I sat shaking with excitement. I tried to look away, partially succeeded, but then had to look back. And now she actually was unhooking her brassiere! She was opening it! Now, at last. She was turning so I could see all in the mirror! I tried to look away. I couldn’t. And the knowledge that I couldn’t was an ecstasy. A triumph. Now! Now! Let me see them, Mother. Let me see your breasts, Mother. The whiteness. The nipples. The hidden nipples. All, Mother! My breath must have been audible as I gasped, trying to see- but all I caught was a suggestion of the swell of her breast as she turned her back again completely to the mirror, and picked up another brassiere from the seat. As she slipped her arms through the straps, she did turn a little towards the mirror, and I peered hard, straining every muscle. For a second she seemed to meet my eye. I couldn’t tell. Her eyes fell. But I had to see.
She hesitated a minute with her arms crossed over her breasts. There was a strange pause for a second. There was a blur of motion. A sense of silk and curves and whiteness. But almost immediately the breasts were snuggled in black, and I hadn’t seen!! But the effect of this almost seeing was so great on me that I just sat there, my heart pounding so as to nearly break me open.
I remember vaguely that another white thing, a slip, I guess, went on over her head, and then the dress which she wiggled into with a motion that any other time would have excited me, but I was so close to saturation that I almost did not notice until she seemed to catch on something. The dress was very tight, and she was trying to pull it on over her head.
She struggled a moment, then called, almost with embarrassment!
“Lars! This thing is caught on me-on my strap, I distinct not of appeal, but also of frustration. “Every think! Oh- would you help me!” This last with a time I’m in a hurry, something has to happen!” she was continuing…
I was terribly embarrassed. My penis, shamefully, had grown hard again, and push as I would, I could not completely conceal it. And I was shaking so. As best I could, I pushed it down, and began to go to the screen, but I could hardly walk, and Mother called again!
“Please come, dear, I’m very late and I’m caught in this tiling!”
I hurried as best I could, and walked around the screen, trying somehow not to look at her exposed body, but more out of fear of what would happen if I did than from any sense of decency.
The dress was over her head and came down as far as her ribs. Her arms were inside, and she had been struggling to get them through the arm holes. One arm had made it, but the other had passed the hole, and in her effort to adjust this, she had hooked the dress on to one of her understraps.
“Ah, Lars, here, dear, behind me-see if you can see where it is caught!”
I felt across her back under the dress, in the warmth, over the sweet flesh! I found where the dress had caught on a shoulder strap. Even so, my eyes could not resist a glance at the curving buttocks there, right where I might touch them. I struggled with the hook a moment, trying not to tear the fine violet fabric, but as I did so, Mother turned her head slightly, dusting her slightly perfumed hair across my face. I almost died!
And then, just as I got it undone, she leaned back towards me. I steadied her somehow, then stepped back, but even the touch of the dress on my hands had them shaking.
But she was still in trouble, for her arm could not find the hole. Her whole body seemed to twist, and even at this point, I found it almost uncontrollably exciting.
“Lars-please, dar-my arm-I can’t get it into the hole! Lift the dress on me a little, and then help me down with it when I tell you!”
I reached up and, taking the dress carefully on each side about where her head was, I began to lift. Mother had to keep twisting even so to help me. The dress was incredibly tight!
But as she did this, she twice rubbed her buttocks against my leg. It was all I could do not to scream.
“There, darling,” she was saying to me. “That’s fine now, but would you just help me pull it down so that I don’t get stuck again?”
“Yes, Mother,” I muttered. “But-uh-how do I…?”
“Just pinch it at the sides and pull… OOOH!-but without pinching me, sweetheart!” She had given a little jump, and leaned on me for a second, and I just couldn’t stand it!
I helped steady her with my palms, and then paused… Her voice came, softer now, and with a tone that made me think she might be near laughing, but I couldn’t tell.
“Don’t be afraid, dear! Just be careful you get just dress between your hands-uh-fingers, and not me!”
“I’m-I’m sorry, Mother… I didn’t mean to,” I stammered, and carefully as I could with my infernal shaking, I took the dress in my fingers and thumbs and tried to pull down on it.
Mother squirmed and twisted, trying to help, and little by little we made progress. Despite my good sense, I looked several times at the flesh of her thighs and buttocks, trembling more and more and more.
Now both her arms were in the holes, and the dress was coming down below her waist when suddenly, it stuck again.
“It’s caught a bit on the right side, dear,” Mother was explaining. “Just pull a little more there!”
I did, and she twisted hard trying to get into it, and in the process, she fell against me. My stiff penis was tight against her leg, and my hands closed on her stomach trying to steady her! Only by fiercely biting my lip so that the blood came, did I manage to keep from coming, all over her. Then I realized that she too was trembling-quivering against me-and did I only imagine it-pressing back hard against my penis and moving on it. The inside of my head was all liquid-and she liquid against me, and somewhere a bong began to toll with louder and louder urgency.
She stayed there a moment shaking till my own shaking threatened to drop her, then her own arms free now, she bent away and helped me quickly move the dress the rest of the way over her, then turned quickly and looked at me, a wildness in her eyes.
“Thank you, dear,” she said. “This thing is so tight and is always a horror to get on. Uh-I’m sorry it was so-so hard on you. But, Lars… you must get used to having a mother, you know!” And she looked at me with those beautiful, wide, blue eyes, and I didn’t know what to say or do… so I just nodded and blushed at her.
Mother moved to the dressing table, and began her makeup. I just stood there and stared at her. Finally she seemed satisfied, and turned to me again:
“Well, Lars, I hope you really liked the things I showed you tonight.” My eyes must have popped, for she lowered hers slightly, flushed a little, and said:
“Uh… I meant your clothes, you know. Do you really think you will enjoy them?”
I guess she saw then that I was beyond speech. I stammered assurances of my appreciation of the clothes, and she accepted them. Finally she said:
“You go to bed now, darling, and please rest well for me. These clothes will do you till we can go to the tailor’s together. And like I told you before, you will get used to having a mother, in time. It is only natural that you-ah- find it embarrassing now. Remember, Lars!” And saying this she came to me, put her arms around my neck, and kissed me full on the mouth! Deep incredible softness!
I was hopelessly in love. I almost fainted. Her soft mouth went away-clinging just a little as it left. I shook, blushed, and stammered: “Thank you, Mother… good night!” And fled.
Chapter Six
I was already in my room when I remembered Gunilla. I looked at the clock on the dresser. It was ten after ten. Almost an hour. I lay down to think. One of my greatest problems in this house was that one strange and unknown experience followed another so quickly that I had no time to reflect nor to digest it. I had the feeling that I was growing and changing rapidly, but I could not be sure how or to what extent because the rush of events rarely left me time to be in touch with myself.