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Dressing My Son
I had been suspicious of Mark’s visits to my panty drawer for quite some time, but it wasn’t until I bought that nanny-cam that I could confirm it. You can imagine my surprise when I began coming home from work and finding video after video of my f******n year-old son dressed in my bras, my knickerss, my dresses and high heels. That was the kind of behavior you might expect from a little girl, not a young boy. What amazed me most was how often you did it, how shameless he was in what he took. Something had to be done, he had to be taught a lesson he would never forget. I thought hard about what to do, and then it came to me. It would take a few days to prepare. I visited some of my favorite stores and spent a lot of money. I went to the salon to get my hair done, and got a manicure at the manicurist.

Then on a Wednesday, I left work early. He was at his class in school. I went up to my bathroom and undressed and took a shower. I blow-dried and brushed my hair. I went into my closet and put on one of my sexiest bedroom outfits: see-through black lace knickers and a matching sheer bra; stockings; a suspender belt; my grandmother’s pearl necklace. I put on makeup and perfume. When I was ready I looked in the mirrors in my closet. All of the grooming that week had paid off – I looked fit, and hot. Then, dressed only in that skimpy lingerie, I went downstairs to the kitchen to make dinner.

That was where he found me when he got home from school. He stood in the doorway and gaped as I moved about the kitchen, my heels clicking on the linoleum.

“Darling,” I said casually, “Would you mind setting the table? Dinner is just about ready.”

I put on some oven mitts and bent down at the waist to pull the roast out of the oven. As I did so I could feel the slight pull of the garters, the thong disappearing deeper between my arse cheeks, the cool air on my bare skin. I have to admit I stayed bent over like that for longer than was strictly necessary, knowing that the sight of his mother’s arse in the air must have been casino siteleri torture for him.

I stood up and placed the pan on the cooker. I was not surprised to see that he hadn’t moved from the doorway.

“Is everything all right?” I asked him. “You look tired. Did something happen at school?”

He was staring at the floor then, blushing a little bit. Every once in a while he would glance up at my body, as though he couldn’t help it, then grimace and look down again.

“Oh,” I said innocently. “Is it my outfit? Is that what’s bothering you?”

He nodded, ever so slightly.

“Well, that’s a surprise, Darling. I thought you would like it. Especially since you seem to like wearing it so much yourself.”

He looked up shocked. He tried to deny it, but there was no point. Even without the nanny-cam videos I would have known for sure in that moment, just from his expression. I am your mother, after all. I then explained everything to him – the months of misplaced underwear, the nanny cam, and that it was time for him to be punished – and he stood there, staring at the patterns on the kitchen floor, turning redder and redder. I walked across the room.

“Come on,” I said. “There’s something I want to show you.”

I led him into the living room. On the coffee table there were several neatly wrapped packages, all light pink, the name of an upscale lingerie and bridal boutique emblazoned on each box.

“They’re gifts,” I said. “And they’re all for you.”

I made him sit and watch as I opened each package, one by one, explaining what everything was. The first box contained a set of lingerie exactly like the one I was wearing, down to the stockings and see-through knickers — but in his size, of course. The other boxes contained more bras and knickers in different colors, a necklace like the one I had on, makeup, perfume, and, last but not least, a pair of patent leather stiletto – just like mine.

“Since you like sneaking into my room and wearing my underwear so much I thought I would you some of your own.” I said. “Now get undressed.”

He canlı casino said he wouldn’t. He begged and pleaded with me to change my mind. But I played my trump card.

“You know,” I said. “The girl at the lingerie store, I think she knows you. Gorgeous little blonde thing. Hayley, her name is. She says she takes a class with you at school.”

His eyes widened. I knew for a fact that he had had a crush on Hayley forever.

I laughed. “Don’t look so scared, Darling. I didn’t tell her all this lingerie was for you, or show her that video of you in my nightie that I saved on my cell phone. And I won’t have to do any of that, I promise, as long as you do everything I say tonight. Ok?”

“Take off your clothes,” I said. “Now.” He began undressing, slowly at first, but faster when I mentioned that Hayley had given me her phone number and that we were meeting for lunch that week. Soon enough he was standing there, pale and naked and scared in front of his lingerie-clad mother. He was so embarrassed. And not only was he naked but he was hard, remember? I almost burst out laughing I was so surprised. I hadn’t expected that. Of course, I didn’t know then just how much of a sissy my little boy was.

“This set matches mine,” I said, holding up the new bra. “I picked it out because I think it’s your favorite, right?” I laughed. “You’re going to look just like Mummy tonight.”

He was quiet and compliant as I dressed him up. I made him hold his arms out as I clasped the bra strap behind his back. The front hung a little loosely on his chest so I stuffed the cups with tissue paper from one of the packages.

I knelt down in front of him and pulled the stockings up his legs, smoothing them out as I did so. “No runs,” I explained.

Then came the suspender belt, and as I pulled it around his waist and started clipping it to the stockings I began making “accidental” contact with his erection bobbing in front of him – my hand would brush it, or my hair. He gasped each time, horrified but aroused by what his mum was doing to him. kaçak casino And to tell you the truth I was starting to feel the same way. For some reason dressing him up was really turning me on. I did the back clips and his little butt was so cute that I had to give it a smack. I laughed when he jumped.

He stepped through the thong panties and I slid them up his legs. His erection strained against the tiny patch of fabric. I smirked. I could tell he was humiliated by how excited he was, which in turn only made him more excited.

“Come here, Cinderella. Let’s see if the shoes fit.”

They did, as I knew they would. He was a bit wobbly, as the heels were very high, probably too high for a beginner. Then I put the necklace on him, a little makeup, a spritz of perfume. I stood back and admired my handiwork. I was impressed. If someone had looked through the window then, and somehow not noticed the obvious bulge in his panties, they would have only seen two beautiful women in skimpy lingerie.

I made him look at himself in the full-length mirror on the wall, turning to see himself from all angles. It hit me suddenly how much I loved what we were doing. And I made a decision then. A decision I got to make because I’m his mother, and he is my son. I decided to buy him lots of bras and knickers, and dresses too, and high heels. I was going to throw out his boy clothes. I would teach him how to put on makeup and keep me company and help me around the house when we are on are own, and all the other things I wanted him to do. I was tired of having a troublesome, perverted little boy. I was going to make him into something else, and if he complained or refused, well, I always had those videos to threaten him with.

I didn’t tell him this then, of course. Instead I hugged him, my bra rubbing against his. “Kiss me,” I said, and he, startled, kissed me on the cheek. “No, Darling. A real kiss. Like this.” I covered his mouth with mine. He resisted at first but gave in quickly. I pulled him into me. I think I knew then that he was really mine, and that he knew it too, that I could do anything with him that I wanted. I grabbed his hand and led him, my baby, up the stairs and down the hall, our matching heels clicking in rhythm on the hardwood all the way to my bedroom.

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