Just Like Mummy Used To Do It

by Rosie

  

"Why, thank you, Erica, I'm glad someone someone thinks that way," my wife responded when my mother complimented her on the biscuits we were eating with tea. My wife baked themit, of course.

"While nothing seems to be good enough for Mr. Perfect over here," she said, pointing at me with her face.

"You know what he said about it yesterday?," she asked, not alltogether feigning her indignation.

My mother looked at her with interest. Mockingly imitating me, my wife pointed her nose upwards, blinked her eyes a few times in an aristocratic manner, raised her right arm to her face so that she was touching her cheek with her index finger, then let it drop at the wrist (in a slightly effete manner).

"Very nice, but not quite like mother used to do it," she said, in a fair imitation of my voice.

"He really said that?" my mother asked with genuine astonishment reflecting in her voice and in her face.

"Well, in that case, Barbara, we'll just have to get together some time so I can tell you how to take care of my baby properly."

They both laughed lightly. I tried to accompany them with my chuckles until my mother winked at me. I froze.

 

"Mummy please, you promised you wouldn't tell anyone," I pleaded with her as I was walking her to her car. Barbara was inside washing the dishes.

"You have't told her yet?" she asked.

"I'm going to, you know I promised," I answered, "but you promised you wouldn't tell in the mean time."

"Of course I'm not going to break my promise," she said, "but you're just asking for it. It was pretty stupid to make a comment like that."

"I was just trying to make a joke," I defended myself, "isn't that what all husbands say?"

"What you did was hurt your wife's feelings," she replied sternly, "I thought I taught you better than that."

"I'm sorry," I said sheepishly.

"It's a little late for that now, isn't it?"

 

She looked me in the eyes and I couldn't help but drop my gaze at my feet.

"You know, I'm thinking that it might actually be better if I just told her everything.," Sshe said.

"Please, mummy, please don't," I almost whispered, fighting tears.

She turned kind again.

"There, there," she said, hugging me comfortingly, "you know I won't tell her everything."

"Couldn't you just tell her something else?" I proposed.

"What, lie to my daughter in law?" she asked, not as kind as a moment before, "you know I'd never do that."

"So what are you going to tell her?" I asked.

"That's just between me and Barbara," she replied smugly, "but tell you what - I'm not going to tell her anything directly revealing. It will be up to how you react to what she hears from me. If you don't do anything too stupid, you just might get away with it. In the mean time, I want you to apologise to Barbara."

 

I had to wash my face with cold water to get rid of the few tear marks of the couple of tears that I shed on my way back. Fortunatelly, Barbara was already in bed.

 

I changed into my pajamas and climbed beside her. She laid her book down and looked me expectantlyexpectingly. I could see she was wearing one of her sexy nightgowns again. This time green silk with lace at the bodice. I cleared my throat.

"Look, honey," I began uneasily, "I'm sorry about that comment I made about the biscuits yesterday. I didn't mean to be insensitive, I was only trying to be funny and instead, I hurt your feelings and I'm sorry for that."

That must have surprised her, as it showed on her my face.

"It's all right dear," she said, "don't worry about it, I'm not mad at you. Let's go to sleep now."

Saying that, she switched the light off and rolled on her side to face me. I slid nearer to her, began kissing her and caressing her breast. She shivered a little and breathed heavily. I kept trying to climb her, but just couldn't muster the initiative. What's more, I knew my penis was totally flaccid. After a while, I just lay beside her. She hugged me comfortingly, then rolled on her back. I knew she was disappointed, again, like so many nights before. I wanted to say I was sorry, but couldn't utter a single word.

 

The promised get-together between mom and Barbara didn't happen just immediately after that evening, so I was even even able to relax a little for a while - at the end. Nnot jumping nervously every time Barbara came home. Fortunatelly for me, it didn't take so long so late that I would have become gotten careless. Then again, maybe careless would have been the proper attitude. Surely she must have noticed the change in my behaviour. No use crying over spillt milk though, I guess.

 

That particular evening, I was just doing the dishes. They were lying around since lunch and I was toying with the idea to leave them to Barbara, but got tired of waiting for her and, still keeping in mind where she might be, I decided to do them. I was about halfway through when she came home. I wiped my hands in a dischcloth and went to the door to greet her with a kiss. She was in an unusualy good mood.

"Still doing the dishes, David?"

I shrugged my shoulders.

"You know, just couldn't get around to do it," I said.

"Never mind. Put on an apron," she said.

Without thinking, I went to the cupboard to search for one. It took maybe a few seconds too long much for the thought to strike me.

"Why?" I asked finally.

"I've talked to your mother," she began.

It seemed that my world was tumbling down. 'She knows everything' I thought. I couldn't think of anything to say or do. Instead, I just kept on searching resignedly for an appropriate apron.

"She told me we should always wear aprons in the kitchen," she countinued.

 

A new hope lit up in me. Mummy really had kept her word. I realised that just in time not to put on the most frilly frilliest one I could find.

"Come to think of it, I really dirtied a lot of clothes in the kitchen," she said.

With a huge wave of relief sweeping over me, I put on a plain, blue apron, tied it around my waist and resumed washing the dishes. When I was done, I took it off, wiped my hands in it and joined Barbara in front of the TV.

"You know, that really makes sense," I said as I sat down next to her.

"Doesn't it?" she replied, "so why didn't you wear them before?"

"I don't know," I shrugged, "too young and too foolish, I guess."

"And you didn't really have much chances wearing them, seeing how you never did anything in the kitchen," she said reproachingly.

"Come to think of it, how come you've been so eager to do the dishes lately?" she asked.

I panicked a little, then shrugged my shoulders again.

"Don't know. Guess I realized realises I should try to help you more."

"Well, it's about time," she said and pulled me in for a kiss. It took me by surprise, as it was not something she usually did. It was a short, mild kiss, over before I could be left breathless in her embrace. She leaned back onto the sofa and so did I. We watched the TV a little, then went to bed.

 

"What else did my mother tell you?" I asked wearily, as we were getting under the coversto bed.

"Nothing much," she said dismissingly, "nothing you don't know, anyway."

For a moment, I wanted to ask her again, but then decided it was better not to dig in it too much. Didn't want her to think there was something I didn't want her to know.

She couldn't keep it in, though.

"Is it true she used to spank you when you were naughty?" she asked, gigglingly.

I gulped. Another thing I was nervous about.

"Sure," I replied, not really sure how much she knew, "didn't you get spanked when you were little?"

"No, not really," she said, "got my ears pulled, but that was about it."

"Well, you must have belonged to one of them modern families, I guess," I said and turned around to sleep.

 

She didn't feel like sleeping, though,

"Hey, where are you going?" she said, "turn back."

Reluctantly, I did so.

"What's the matter?" she asked softly, "are you embarrassed about the spanking?"

"What, me? Nah," I tried to act unaffected.

"Come on, it's all right, nothing to be embarrassed about," she comforted me, "after all, you were just a child, right? Nothing that unusual in that, is there?."

I nodded.

"A child, yeah."

She rose over me to kiss me, but I moved away.

"What's this?" she asked.

"Nothing," I replied.

"Why won't you let me kiss you me?"

I shrugged.

"Don't you want to kiss me?"

"I do," I answered.

"So," she said, "why did you back off?"

"Because... isn't it me that's supposed to be kissing you?"

"Don't give Give me that macho bullshit, huh? will you?" she said, "God, how childish you can be sometimes."

Saying that, a spark lit up in her eyes.

"You know, if you're going to act like a child, I'll just have to treat you like one."

Silently, I stared at her.

"If you continue to be as naughty as you are, I'm going to spank you."

 

My first thought was to beg her not to do it. Luckilly, I was just smart reasonable enough not to do that. Instead, I reached for her face, strained upwards a bit and pulled her lips on mine. As we were kissing, I noticed that I had a raging hard-on. I managed to roll her on her back then clumsily climb on top of her, wiggle into her hot moistness and make love to her, fueling my erection with the thought of her spanking me. The sex was akward and over too quickly for her to achieve climax, still she seemed to be very satisfied that something was happening at all. She hugged me affectionally affectively as I rolled off her, gasping for air.

 

Mummy came to visit us again soon. I was, as usual, washing the dishes after dinner (which Barabara cooked, mind you, I wasn't doing all of the chores), wearing an apron. A frilly one. Barbara had chosen it for me. I figured that refusing it would make her start wondering about me again, so I took it from her hands, acting like I was playing along with her joke. It wasn't that frilly, anyway. It was pink, though, but only had a little ruffles on the shoulder straps and the bodice. Feminine looking, true, but, like I said, between me and my wife, it was all a joke. I'm not sure mummy saw it that way, though.

"Hello, Barbara," mummy said.

"Hello, Erica," Barbara cried excitedly as they kissed hello, "let's go to the living room while David finishes the dishes."

"You go ahead, dear," she said, "I'll follow you in a second, I'd just like to say hello to my son."

"Well, well," she said when she saw me, "looks like you're really walking into it, aren't you? Have you been spanked yet?"

"No, mummy," I replied, "and if you don't break your promise, I won't."

"It's nice to hear that you can take care of yourself," she said mockingly, "but I wouldn't be too sure about it. That is an exceptionally pretty apron you're wearing, considering I never mentioned you wore anything of that kind before."

"It was her idea, some kind of a joke," I explained.

"Of course," she teased, "now it makes perfect sense. Look, I'm going to join your wife now. When you bring us our drinks, I expect you to bring them on a tray and keep wearing your this apron."

"But-"

"No buts," she cut me off, "just do as I said."

 

"I can't believe you haven't told me of your skin condition," Barbara reproached me as I brought the tray with the glasses and bottles.

"What skin condition?" I asked, put down the tray and sat down, my apron spreading around me, like a pink dress.

"Your inclination towards infections of hair roots," my mother explained, "I thought I could at least trust you with your own health, but no. I suppose you like your hairy legs so much, you're willing to risk eczema all over them, just so that no one will think you're not macho."

"But I thought-" I tried to object, but my mother crossed her lips with her indey finger and looked at me conspiringly. I knew it was better for me to shut up.

"Well that's going to change tonight, mister," Barbara said commandigly, "if you could keep your body hairless while you were living with your mother, you can bloody well do it for me now."

Thruth was, I did have something like my mother told Barbara about, but when I was younger, in my puberty and, older now, thought it was over.

 

Later on, when Barbara put on the apron I had been wearing until then and gone in went to the kitchen then, I turned to mummy for some explanations.

"What the hell was that about, skin condition?"

"I just told her how you had that disease when you were young and kept your body hairless ever since," she replied.

"Whatever for?" I asked, "Why are you even talking about my childhood?"

"Because she asked," she replied matter-of-factly, "would you like it better if I talked about your adulthood, or other reasons why you kept your body smooth?"

Defeated, I remained silent. Just about then, Barbara came back, still wearing the apron.

"So nice that you've taken my advice about aprons seriously," mummy said, "and such a pretty apron you're wearing, too. Pity Pitty you only have one."

"We have other aprons," Barbara said, "what makes you thinksay we have only one?"

"The way you took David's," mummy replied, "I thought there were none left for you."

"But why would he wear an apron, if he's not going to work in the kitchen?" Barbarashe asked.

"Because he's the host, dear. He must always be prepared to hop and get me anything I might want. Making me wait for him to put on an apron might be just a bit rude."

She turned to me.

"Well, David, won't you put one on?"

I shrugged my shoulders.

"Do we really need two hosts? Barbara's wearing an apron, if you want anything, I'm sure she can get it for you."

"David!" mummy hissed, "Is that what I taught you? Let your wife do all the work? Now, I want you to bring me a glass of water and make sure the apron you put on is just as pretty as the one Barbara's wearing."

 

Beside the plain ones, there was only one other 'pretty' apron. It wasn't pink, but that didn't help much. A white one, with a rather full skirt, ruffles and lace all over. Blushing, I wore it as I brought mummy her glass of water, on a tray with a lace doily, of course. I sat next to my wife, who was eyeing me curisously. I bunched up the aprons' skirt in my lap to conceal my erection.

 

Mummy didn't stay much longer that evening. After we had said goodbye, me and Barbara cleared up what whas still left on the table. In the kitchen, I brushed past her. She turned to face me and held me. I felt a little uneasy, but couldn't do anything about it as she took hold of me with her other hand, too, and pulled me in for a kiss.

"You look quite cute in this white apron," she said, caressing the lace bodice and kissinged me again. This time, I responded more eagerly. I held her as well, and when we broke the kiss I whispered, "let's go to bed."

She pushed me away, but still kept holding me by my shoulders.

"Oh no you don't, mister," she said, shaking me slightly but firmly. She was about my size and I felt not a little threathened by her, feeling her surprisingly strong grip. I swallowed.

"The hair?" I asked.

"You know what you have to do."

I looked at her, then remembered.

"Just one kiss, then," I pleaded, "you look cute in your apron, too."

"You sweet talker, you," she smiled and pulled me in again.

 

I walked out of the bathroom totally hairless below my neck. I found her sitting on the edge of the bed, instead of lying in it.

"Hey," I said, "what are you doing?"

"Let me get a look at you," she said, ignoring my question, "you look perfectly fine. I don't know why you wanted to grow body hair in the first place. So childish. You've really been acting like a naughty child. And you know what happens to naughty children?"

She smiled roughishly as she looked me in the eyes.

"Oh, please," I said quietly, "there's no need for that."

"Come on," she encouraged me, "don't be such a sissy. Just a few spanks for fun, I'm not really going to hurt you."

 

'Oh what the hell.' I thought, shrugged my shoulders and lay across her knees. She was really gentle and the spanking was merely a series of soft taps on my backside. I let out a plausible 'ow' at each one. By the time she was finished, my penis was fully erect. She didn't say anything, just pushed me backwards on the bed and climbed over me. In a moment of carelessness, I purred "Mmmm, that feels so nice," as I felt the silk of her nightgown sliding over me. She took it of and as she straddled me, and rode me, she rubbed her nightgown across my chest.

"You like that, don't you?" she asked.

"Oh, yes," I breathed, not really sure what she was refering to. Whatever it was, I wasn't lying.

I got out of the bed to put some pyjamas on.

"Putting on your jamies?" she asked.

I nodded.

"Well," she said, "since you enjoy the feel of silk so much, why don't you put some of mine on?"

I was too tired to argue.

"The blue ones OK?" I asked.

"It's your choice, dear," she replied.

I took out and put on her dark blue silk slik pyjamas and went back to bed.

 

Waking up, I found myself snuggled into her embrace. She was lying on her back, seemingly still asleep. I started caressing her belly and later on her breast. Long after her nipples hardened, her face broke into a contented smile. Suddenly she opened her eyes and pushed me on my back, then got on top of me and repeated the actions of the last night.

 

"Maybe you should wear my panties today," she said as she was getting dressed, while I was still in bed, "you can enjoy the feel of silk all day long this way."

"Oh, I don't know about that," I mumbled.moaned.

"Suit yourself," she shrugged her shoulders and left the room.

As I got up, I noticed she had laid out a pair of her silk panties for me. I held them for a while, even rubbed them against my smooth legs, but chickened out and put on a pair of my jockey shorts. When I got to the kitchen, I saw she was wearing the pink apron from the last night.

"Just in time," she said, putting the white one on me, "take care of the toast."

My apron swishing around me, I did what she told me to do and joined her at behind the table.

 

Later that night, she waited until I was wearing the same silk pajamas. She caressed carresed me through them unitl I was gasping with excitement. She took hold of my erect penis, rubbing the silk with her thumb joyfully over the tip.

"You're wearing panties tomorrow," she said, "and that's final."

I reached for her and she kissed me firmly. Then tantalizinlgy slow, she pulled my pajama bottom off and made love to me.

 

The next morning, she watched me as I put on her pale blue panty and camisole set. Naturally, they were made out of silk. The panties were full cut with lots of lace. There was lace on the bodice of the camisole, too.

"Why?" I asked as I put them on.

"Because you want to," she replied, "and if silk has that kind of an effect on you, then I want you to feel sexy all day long."

I couldn't argue with that logic. It just felt a little strange, puting on my male clothes over the sexy lingerie.

 

That day we visited mummy. She had invited us over for tea.

"Not wearing your apron, mummy," I chided her, "what kind of a hostess are you?"

"A busy buisy one," she replied, "would you be a dear and help your poor mother out? Serve the tea?"

Of course, I couldn't decline, although I knew what that meant.

"Make sure you put on the prettiest apron you find," she called after me.

I didn't dig too deep in the cupboard fearing what else I might find, I so settled for what mummy would consider pretty - a ridiculous apron made out of white satin with tiny red hearts printed on it, with a heart shaped bib with lots of red lace around it.

"That certainly is a pretty apron, Erica," Barabra said when she saw me.

"It is, isn't it?," mummy replied, "though I haven't worn it in ages."

"I doubt you ever have," I said stupidly, before I could bite my tongue.

"Then why did you keep it?" Barbara asked, puzzled.

"Oh, mummy keeps all sorts of things, never throws anything away," I said, trying to steer the conversation to safer waters, "I bet she you even kept keep my old clothes."

"I don't know about the throwing away part," mummy replied, "but I have to confess, there still are some boxes of your old stuff in the attic."

"Really?" Barbara said, "I wonder what David used to wear when he was young."

"I could put something on," I offered.

"I don't think Barbara wants to see you wearing those old outfashioned rags," mummy said, looking at me sternly.

Me, I saw an excellent chance to take off that humiliating piece of satin she called an apron.

"I'm sure I'll be able to find at least one timeless classic," I said confidently.

"Fine," mummy resigned, "come with me, I'll show you where they are."

 

I hadn't haven't lost hope until I went through each box. Suddenly, the horror of realization realisation set in.

"But mummy, there's only-"

"I tried to warn you, didn't I?" she reproached me, "you've walked right into this one yourself."

"You could have been more clear," I whined.

"What would you want me to say? 'I'm sorry dear, I've thrown all of your boy's clothes away, there's only-'"

"Okay, okay," I almost cried, "what are we going to do?"

"You mean what are YOU going to do," she replied, "I don't really see what this has got to do with me."

"You could tell Barbara that moths have gotten to the clothes and destroyed all of them," I suggested.

"No dear," mummy answered, "that would be lying. I told you before, I'm not lying to my daughter in law. And you are going to take responsibilityes for your promises. You said you wanted to put on some of your old clothes and you will do that. You would have had to come clean sooner or later."

She picked out some clothes.

"Here, how about this?"

It was her favourite outfit. Favourite in the sense that it was what she liked best for me to wear among the daytime, informal clothes.

"Okay, I guess," I shrugged. I couldn't claim I had any negative feelings toward that outfit either.

"Coud you at least give me some privacy?" I asked her.

"Don't be silly," she refused, "I've seen you naked a million times before. Besides, I want to make sure you're taking care of your skin like you should."

I pulled of my sweater and t-shirt, revealing the camisole.

"Hmmm," mummy said as she saw it, "maybe this won't come as such a shock to her after all."

 

We came back to the living room with linked hands. Well, I was clinging on mummy's right arm, to be totally honest.

"Allright, what the fuck is that?" Barbara asked as she saw us, "this is some kind of a joke, right?"

"I'm sorry Barbara," mummy said apologeticaly, "but no, this is no joke. This is what David used to wear when he was younger."

"And you didn't suppose that was something you should tell me, David dear?" Barbara said to me furiously.

"Don't be to hard on him," mummy tried to protect me, "It's my fault, I trusted him when he said he would tell you. I should have told you at the beginning."

"Even so," Barbara continued, "that's no excuse."

She uncrossed her legs, sat up straight, straightened out her pants.

"Come over here, David," she said, tapping her thighs.

"Please, Barbara," I pleaded, "don't do this here."

"I said come over here," she repeated sternly, "so lift your skirt, pull down your panties and lie over my lap."

With her blue panties around my ankles and the purple satin skirt and white silk slip bunched around my waist, I tried to take my punishment as a man, even though the garters were starting to eat painfuly into my burning flesh. But after ten of her forceful smacks or so, I wept openly like a child. She kept on going for quite some time. When she finally did stop, mummy lifted me off her knees and took me into her embrace.

"There, there," she cooed in my ear, rubbing my aching behind with cool cream, "I'm sorry dear, but you really earned this yourself."

"So, Erica," Barbara said, sounding a little flushed, "anything else you two have to tell me?"

 

I was lying in bed, wearing one of my numerous baby-dolls, waiting for Barbara, anticipating with both fear and excitement what might happen next.

Finally, she entered the bedroom, still wearing the pantsuit from before.

"Aren't you coming to bed?" I asked timidly.

"I am, dear, but not just right away. There's still so much your mummy has to tell me, Nicole," she answered, removing my butt plug.

"In the mean time, here's a little something to keep you amused," she continued, replacing the butt plug with something else.

"Aren't you glad she'syou finally tellingtold me what it was like before we met?" she asked, "so I can take proper care of her little girl?"

I gasped then squirmed happily as I felt the vibrator's gentle buzz in my rectum.

"Isn't this just like mummy used to do it?"

 

The End

  

  

  

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