She’d even repaired his torn trousers, but for the virtuoso of the sewing machine that she was it was likely nothing that difficult. And then she was still so blood-curdingly strict when necessary, yet always told him he was good boy later.
He’d just taken a shower after work and was dressing in something cleaner when he heard Momma yell from downstairs.
“Michael! Your tea is ready!”
Yep. His fucking tea. Did Roger or Dave get that? No they didn’t. Mike had been living with Momma for a week, and there hasn’t been a day when he’d eaten leftovers.
“Coming, Momma!”
He stole a glance at the mirror, to make sure he was presentable, and ran down the stairs, to the small dining room with flowery wallpaper and a glass cabinet displaying Momma’s favourite porcelain. She looked at him from above her plate.
“Have you washed your hands?”
“Er… I showered.”
Momma straightened her back and lifted her eyebrows. Mike didn’t need another word of encouragement to run to the bathroom and wash his hands once more. There was shepherd’s pie for dinner, and its scent made Mike salivate before he even tasted the delicious food. Momma was such an amazing cook, and she never took any shortcuts either, buying organic whenever possible. For my boy to grow healthy, she’d said.
“How was your day, honey?” she asked as if she were inquiring about school.
Mike leaned over the food and made sure to swallow before speaking, because he’d got told off for that before. “Dave was being a shi--nuisance. We’re never getting the floorboards done if he can’t measure it right. He didn’t buy enough panels, and we ended up with an extra tea break, doing nothing. They all told me to send their regards for the cookies.”
Momma laughed and leaned over, patting Mike’s stomach playfully. “You need that extra energy. And I love baking anyway.”
Every single scrap of touch he got from her was like a lightning bolt straight to his dick. Mike was sure she knew all about that. “Sometimes the work is like exercise. Good that I’ve got my Momma. Don’t have to pop out for some crap--not so nice meal deal anymore.”
She smirked and smacked his hand. “No ugly words at this table. Or else we’ll have to make a swear jar, sweetie. Do you want for all my friends to see how much my boy is cussing? It would be such an embarrassment.”
Mike bit back a grin, shovelling the meat and potatoes into his mouth. The food was so tasty he couldn’t eat fast enough. “No, Momma, I’m working on it. How was your day?”
She relaxed, elegantly eating her own, much smaller, meal. “I had friends over for lunch. They took their dresses. You know the ones, with a trim of blue lace. I did some shopping, and then I relaxed with a book until it was time to prepare our food.”
“Working so hard, Momma. On your feet all day. I bet you could use a foot rub,” Mike swallowed, dreaming of slipping those stocking-covered feet out of the elegant shoes.
Momma cleaned her lips with a napkin and had a bit of wine before looking up. Each time she considered his offers, Mike felt electricity dancing down his limbs. She wouldn’t have allowed him to stay at her place for a week if she weren’t interested in him. He just needed to try until she deemed him worthy of becoming a bit more than just her kid.
“You’d do that for me, Michael?”
“Momma! Pudding can wait. I need to thank you somehow for this amazing food.” He stuffed his mouth with the last bit of pie, eager to take her pampered foot into his hands.
She smiled, flushing slightly as she downed the rest of her wine in one go. Was she nervous? Was this it?
He dragged his chair a bit closer, watching her remove her heels, hypnotized by the red manicure peeking out from beneath nude stockings. He slowly sank into his seat when the sight of her hands pulling up the many petticoats rendered him completely breathless.
“Maybe I could help, Momma?” he asked in a lower tone, sliding to his knees. He’d have the most perfect view on those slender legs. He’d never seen as much of them before, and yet after a moment’s pause, Momma moved her skirts even higher, revealing the top of the stocking, along with a clasp that attached it to a garter belt. She watched him without a word but in the end rested her hands on the armrests.
The tension was so thick it could’ve been sliced like a pie. Mike reached to her thigh and gently unclasped the stocking from the garter, forcing down a groan. He could hardly believe she was letting him touch her this way. The skin of her leg was so hot when he reached to the back of the thigh.
“You’re so beautiful. Every boy would be proud to have a Momma like you.”
“You know how to tell compliments. Some girl will be very lucky to have you one day,” she said, biting her lip when Mike started rolling the stocking down. She was so incredibly smooth and fair he wished he were allowed to eat his pudding straight off that flesh.
“Only because you brought me up so well.” He winked at her, and as he rolled off the stocking he ran his coarse thumbs over the silky skin. Would she like that? He was pretty sure she would.
Was that a pant that he’d just heard? He briefly met Momma’s gaze, but she was quick to lower her skirt and lift it on the other side, again revealing her stocking and a bit of flesh. Somewhere under all those layers of chiffon, cotton, and whatnot, hid Momma’s dick, and her balls, and her lovely ass. He wished he could just dive in and rub his face against the front of her knickers.
He’d bet his right hand they were lacy.
Once Mike took off the other stocking, he carefully put them on the chair and grabbed Momma’s foot to start a massage that would hopefully tell her everything about his dedication.
“You shouldn’t work so hard, Momma.”
She rested her cheek against her elegant fist and watched him, for once allowing herself to be pampered. “It’s what Mommas do, sweetie. My boy needs to have the best of everything so that he can become a real man.”
“I never want to grow up if that means parting from my Momma.” Mike winked at her, taking his time with every toe, every muscle in the sole of the lovely foot he was so happy to be allowed to touch.
Momma sighed, curling her toes against his touch. “But you can’t stay. Everyone eventually leaves their Momma.”
Mike dared lift the foot to his face and kissed its sole. “Not me, Momma.”
Momma’s gasp want straight to his balls, but she didn’t stop him. She didn’t say anything, just watched him, breathing loud enough for him to hear.
“It’s only fair for me to take care of my Momma too,” Mike whispered into the soft skin and gave the foot another kiss, but dared run his other hand up Momma’s calf.
“Mike…”
He sighed and backed off, sitting on the balls of his feet. She called him ‘Michael’ when they were playing. “Did I do something wrong?”
Momma covered her lips with her hands as she rested her feet on his thighs. “No, not wrong. It’s just that I can’t go that far.”
Mike groaned. “But we like each other very much. Doesn’t that count for something? Why does it have to be a big thing?”
Momma relaxed into the seat, watching him for the longest moment.
“I need to feel the safety of someone’s commitment to go there. And sure, things don’t always work out, like they hadn’t for me and Richard, but I’m no floozy. It’s not just physical for me, and I can’t be investing my emotions in something that is bound not to last.”
Mike nodded slowly, processing word after word. “I’m sorry I pushed you too far, and you’ve been so lovely to me, I have to be honest that I don’t know where this is going yet. So I wouldn’t want to lead you on into heartbreak.” The horny part of him screamed that he was dumb, that he should have promised undying love, but that wouldn’t have been fair, and fairness was something Momma deserved. Honesty and respect.
She briefly shut her eyes. “Thank you. I appreciate your honesty. There’s too little of it in the world today.”
Not wanting to put her on
the spot, Mike put the stockings elsewhere and sat back in the chair no matter how tempted he was to kiss each one of her toes. “Is that why you got into this whole thing? You don’t like the present day?”
Momma poured wine into two glasses and offered one to Mike. She smiled with her eyes still unfocused, as if she were looking into the past. “This house was my grandmother’s. She was the most elegant woman I’ve ever met. She noticed that I was different than all the other boys, but she thought nothing of it. She was the one to teach me sewing. She made me my first dress, because I was obsessed with Dirty Dancing at the time. I really wanted to be Baby. Dance in a pretty dress and have Patrick Swayze lift me into the air. And I wouldn’t be ashamed or afraid, because I would have trusted him.”
Mike could listen to her soft voice singing him lullabies. Momma was such a romantic despite her penchant for discipline. “So you loved all these vintage things? Are some of them your nan’s?”
Momma nodded. “She never redecorated. Many of those trinkets used to be hers, and I liked them. Whenever I visited her, she’d let me dress the way I wanted. It was my own paradise of soft fabrics, stockings, and makeup. She was so special, my nan. I was inconsolable when she died. Richard didn’t understand just how close I’d been with her, and when we moved here, he wanted to change everything. I watched him paint the walls, and I couldn’t stand it. This was my perfect world, where I could be who I wanted to, and where everything was clean, sweet, and polite. He just thought this was old-fashioned. Sad. Dead.”
Mike reached for her hand, but gave her space to make the gesture herself. This time it wasn’t even about how exciting she was. He just wanted to squeeze her fingers, listen to her talk, and take all and any burden off her shoulders.
“This place is so you. Richard can go suck his own dick.”
Momma smirked and squeezed his fingers, this time not chastising him for the foul language. After all, he was now Mike and didn’t need to follow Momma’s strict code of conduct.
“He’s not flexible enough. Spends too much time at his desk,” she said with a laugh, but then she went on, gently holding Mike’s hand. “I used to work at a bank. Each day was the same, and the suits were choking the life out of me. Richard was becoming more and more agitated about me not wanting to change anything in the house, and one day I just thought: ‘Do I want my life to be this?’ I couldn’t stand it. That evening I dressed up in one of my dresses, and for the first time since Nan’s death I felt like myself again.
“Richard always thought my sewing hobby was weird, but it was an additional source of income, so most of the time he didn’t complain, but that was the first time he saw me this way, and he completely flipped. He actually wanted to take me to a doctor, because he thought it was the mourning making me crazy.”
“If you want to do this full time… I mean, you still identify as a man? I’m sorry if the question’s pigheaded, I’m just trying to wrap my mind around it. Did Richard hate it ‘cause he’s gay, and you wanted to present as female?”
Momma chewed on her lip. “That is pretty much it. He wanted to be with a man, which is fine, but he started accusing me of deceiving him, and he said he was embarrassed, because everyone knew we’ve been together for so many years. And yes, I am still a man. But I like being feminine. It makes me feel so free. I can speak softly, and wear cute things, and be that person from my favourite novels. Beautiful. Loving but strict.”
Mike smiled at her and squeezed her hand. “And that’s exactly what you are. I’ve had girlfriends in the past, when I wasn’t yet sure what I liked, who didn’t want to go along with my kinks. As I grew in that direction, they were angry that I’ve ‘changed’, but we’re never the same person who we were ten years ago. Sometimes this stuff happens.”
Momma smiled, her shoulders visibly relaxing. “I used to be a Dom, then things got more complicated. But I’ve made the right decision to go with my gut. I can have this perfect home, and be like the woman of everyone’s dreams.”
Mike couldn’t remember feeling this kind of pull to someone for a long time. For a while, he’d either liked a woman’s personality and body, or had met up with people just for the kink. In Momma, all these things melded into the most perfect human being.
He had to ease his hand away or he’d end up trying to kiss her, and they’d already established that couldn’t happen.
“With the cookies you bake, you’re definitely the woman of Dave and Roger’s dreams.” Mike laughed, wishing to diffuse the intense atmosphere between them, even though he appreciated the kind of touchy-feely sharing he never could have with his mates.
She watched him with the sweetest of smiles, until the silence was broken by the distant sound of thunder. She blinked, as if it had awoken her from a trance. “Oh, my goodness! Another storm. Last time the power went out. I was too afraid to go to the shed at night and deal with it.”
“But Momma…” Mike tugged on her skirt with a smile. “What about pudding?”
Chapter 6
The electricity was bust, just as Momma predicted, but with the rain drumming against the windows and the roof like a marching band intent on making Mike crazy, they decided to rely on torches and candles, since it was late anyway.
Mike opened his eyes to blinding white light pouring through the open curtains, and he sat up just in time to see a glimpse of the lightning spreading its branches through the dark sky. The tall trees growing around the cottage leaned toward the ground, pulled by wind so rapid the gusts made something above Mike’s head creak.
All alone in his weird boy room, he had too much time on his hands to think. Staying with Momma was different than being with any of the girlfriends he’d had, and although it felt like a relationship, it wasn’t even that. Thunder rumbling through the air outside was like the expression of the torment inside of him.
Would it really be so bad to commit to Momma?
It wasn’t like he wanted to sleep around much, so that wouldn’t be an issue, but the responsibility of taking care of someone else was so overwhelming he couldn’t overcome the instinctive fear. Then again, wasn’t it him who was being showered with love, getting his laundry done, eating packed lunches, and having to adhere to a strict code of conduct that never failed to make his dick hard?
He sat cross-legged on the bed and watched the stormy weather, wincing when yet another lightning bolt tore through the sky, turning the night into day, even for the briefest moment. Thunder rumbled down Mike’s back and made him shiver despite it being summer. The night, however, was cold, as if the rain had wrecked not only the electricity but also the heat from the cottage in order to power itself.
Was Momma awake as well?
The illicit nature of their play had been turning Mike on more and more. A strict authority figure, a family member, and yet there they were--flirting sometimes, Momma giving him pleasure under the guise of punishments.
Wouldn’t he be allowed to be frightened of the storm and eager to sleep with his Momma? Just this one night of course, since he was a big boy already.
His feet hit the carpet, and he made the few steps to the door as if he were sleepwalking and had no choice in the matter.
The narrow corridor was like a tunnel that would lead him straight to Momma’s room.
Mike swallowed, and when lightning brightened up the house again, he moved toward the small gap that would allow him a peek inside Momma’s boudoir. Whenever he awoke in the morning, she would always be on her feet already, the entrance to her bedroom firmly shut. Now he’d get to see it for the first time.
The glow coming from outside illuminated a large dressing table filled with all the bottles of makeup and tubs of cream she used to make herself so flawless.
Mike sneaked in to take in the sight of Momma sleeping in the queen-sized bed under a quilted satin duvet.
Her red hair contrasted sharply with the white pillow, the rich long locks creating a halo around Momma’s face.
Mike pushed the door gently a
nd stepped inside, cringing at the noise it made, but Momma remained asleep, her chest rising and falling calmly. He got closer, and then slipped under the duvet when another lightning bolt struck outside.
“Momma?” he whispered, hovering his fingers over her shoulder as he shifted closer.
She stiffened and stopped breathing before very slowly removing her eye mask. Their eyes met in the dark, but for a moment she said nothing, observing Mike in the light seeping through the window.
Thunder rolled over the house and made her start. The lightning was like a high-beam torch pointed straight at Momma’s face. Mike had never seen her like this.
She wasn’t wearing any makeup, and without it her long eyelashes appeared transparent, as did her brows. She had delicate features that would look equally good on either gender, but it was still like seeing her from a completely new perspective.
“Is it okay if I cuddle up to you this one night, Momma?” Mike whispered, as if someone could overhear them. “The storm is so scary.”
She drew a shaky breath and moved her hand over the back of his head, in the end settling her cheek back on the pillow. With a nudge of her fingers, Mike stretched next to her, face buried in her long locks. They smelled of dried flowers, the aroma so sweet it instantly calmed his racing heart, even though she’d never before allowed him this close.
Mike couldn’t see much of her nightclothes, but his knee definitely touched lace under the duvet.
“You need to grow out of this habit, Michael. Big boys don’t sleep in their Mommas’ beds,” she whispered, breathless yet somehow loud despite the drumming rain.
Mike groaned quietly, trying to stifle the excitement going straight to his dick. She called him ‘Michael’. She didn’t say, ‘Mike, go to your own room, and stop bugging me’.
“I will, Momma. Maybe next time.” He whispered and pulled closer until his crotch pressed into her lace covered thigh. With only boxers and a T-shirt for pajamas, there was one less layer between them than usual. Though they didn’t usually touch this much at all.
Under His Stiletto Page 4
