My Mother, my Lover. Her Satin, my Sin
by: Georgina

 

Chapter 3

 

After that second, cataclysmic, orgasm, I was totally finished. Slowly getting to my feet I tottered on unsteady limbs upstairs to mother’s bedroom. I looked at the clock and saw that it was quite late, the time stood at eleven fifteen. Julie, our maid, because it was Saturday the next day, would not be in till midday and would only be there for two hours, so I decided it would be safe to sleep in mother’s bed tonight. Wearily, I divested myself of all those wonderful feminine garments and tottered into mother’s en-suite bathroom to have a long, hot shower. After the shower I felt extremely refreshed, though still exhausted and I turned towards the bed. I firstly put away all the clothes apart from three new tissue wrapped parcels that I was going to wear in bed, and the nylon stockings I had worn before.

Unwrapping the tissue paper I laid out on the bed three new, scrumptious, articles of glamorous clothing. The first was a lovely satin garter belt, in lustrous, black satin of course. The second was a fantastic pair of lace trimmed, wide legged, satin knickers. I later learned that these were called ‘French Knickers’. Thirdly, and the prize of the whole bundle, was a gorgeously opulent, thoroughly sexy, long, lace trimmed, black satin night-gown, with an opera topped bodice and delicate, cross back, ribbon straps. I sat down on that mink counterpane and, for a few moments, lay down, naked, on the rich, glossy, softly sensuous, fur, writhing, rolling over the surface, enjoying the sensuous feel of that fur on my naked skin. It was enough to give me twinges in my body that caused it to start to erect. I was amazed at my own powers of recuperation, but such is the power of youth.

But, I was still tired and so, wanting to get into bed, I started to dress in my chosen sleep wear. I put back on those lovely nylon stockings, thrilling, as always to the insistent thrill that they gave my body. Then, standing up I put the lovely garter belt around my waist. This was another sexy piece of frippery, six inches in depth, with six suspenders, it was really a waist cincher and it gripped my waist, reducing it by at least an inch. It felt wonderful when I attached the welts of the stockings to the suspenders and felt, once more, the tug of the nylons as I took a few paces around the room. Delighting in that caused my tumescence to rise again, but not with the same urgency as before. It was time now to complete my dressing for the night. The soft knickers were a joy to put on and they tenderly swathed my hardness in their satin embrace. Finally, I slid that sumptuous, sensuous night gown over my head and let its soft fabric drape my body. Mother must have really known what she was about when she bought that garment. It was truly made for me. my titties, swollen with excitement, filled the cups perfectly, and my aroused nipples were highly visible in their hard, excited, state.

For a few minutes I stood in front of the cheval mirror, admiring my image. Without the make up on I still looked, in these sexy garments, like a very pretty girl and I was very pleased with how I looked. Vanity, it seems, is inherent in all of ‘us’. It was even quite a turn on to see my harness tenting out the softly flowing skirt of the gown, certainly the dichotomy was not lost on me. my hands slid up to my tender breasts and, for a few seconds, teased my nipples. My eyes closed for a few more seconds, but I was tired, so I stopped, turned to the bed, and pulled back the counterpane, to stand amazed at what I saw.

The sheets were different, and a wonder to behold. Heavy, smooth, glossy, luscious, deep crimson satin, and laying on the top, another small note from mother!

Sleep well, my sweet daughter!

Pleasant dreams.

I will see you soon.

Many hot kisses!

Mother.

I placed the small card on the pillow and slid between those wonderful sheets. My satin and nylon sheathed body slid sexily into the cool cocoon of those fantastic sheets and I lay down with a sigh of utter disbelief. What more, I wondered, would this adventure bring. My eyes fell shut and, though I was still excited, sleep took over and I dreamed of a swathe of heavenly scenes that whirled through my mind all night.

I awoke, utterly refreshed, in the morning, at the time of eight. I knew that Julie was coming at twelve, so I got up and, with regret, put all the garments, including my night wear, away and tidied up everything. For the next few hours, until she left at two, I would have to suffer my male persona. It would, I knew, be a drag, pun intended. Mother was due back on Sunday evening and the Summer Holidays began this weekend, six glorious weeks away from the public school at which I was a day pupil. What we were going to do was still a secret, so mother had told me. I had a half hope that it might include more dressing up. That remained in the near future, now, specifically today and tomorrow was in my mind.

The time dragged, Julie came, made me my lunch and left me supper and tomorrow's lunch in the fridge. She had a day off on Sundays, but also, due to the school holidays she was having those off as well, she had two children of her own, a boy and a girl who were one and three years younger than me, so this was the last time I would see her for a while. Julie was a pretty thing, she had married young and her son had been born just after the wedding, about three months later. Her husband had beaten her up and was now an absent husband. Still only twenty eight, she looked twenty at the oldest and she and mother seemed to be more than just mistress and maid, although I didn’t know then just how different. That was to come later.

At last, Julie left and I had the whole afternoon, evening, night and morning to myself and my new found games. As it was the afternoon I could not dress in my evening clothes till later. In the fifties, afternoon dress was de-riguer. In the wardrobe I had noticed a very pretty afternoon frock in what looked like real silk. I showered and after that I wandered back into mother’s boudoir. There I took out ‘my’ bag and found the lingerie I would wear this afternoon. Down in the bottom of the bag were tissue wrapped parcels I had glanced at but not taken out as they had not suited the mood of last night, but were perfect for the day. They consisted of a lovely white satin short brassiere, a matching white satin girdle, this one quite high cut that it exposed my body, a pair of lovely beige nylons and gorgeous, slinky, white satin, opera topped slip with matching French knickers.

Dressed in the exquisite lingerie I sat down at the dressing table and started to make myself up. having observed mother many times I started to do it in a more subdued fashion than I did last night. Paler foundations, more pastel eye shadow and a deep coral, rather than the vivid red, lipstick. After I finished my make-up I put back onto my head the lovely blonde wig of the night before. Once more I fancied the image in the mirror. Standing up I went across to the shoe cabinet and took out a pair of mother’s shoes. As it was the afternoon I took out a lovely pair of mid heeled court shoes. I did find that they were far more comfortable to wear but they didn’t feel as sexy, so I changed them back to the lovely shoes I had worn last night.

 

 

I was finally ready to dress in that lovely day dress. It was a treasure and as I took it out it rustled whisperingly in my ears. It was a pastel print, cross over bodiced dress with very tiny sleeves and a full skirt that was held out by a sewn in bouffant petticoat made of several layers of net. I slid it on and felt the masses of net drift over my face and down my body, to settle sensuously in a frilly cloud. All that remained was to draw up the zip at the side and affix the small broach under the left breast. It was, in its way as heavenly as the gown of last night, just as rustly, sensually exciting and thoroughly feminine. Because the corset was high cut at the bottom, I found that my erect body, swathed so slinkily in the satin knickers, brushed extremely softly over the taffeta inner lining of the skirt, setting up a very hot feeling of desire as I rustled and swished about the room. It was almost impossible to stay cool as I decided to descend the stairs, I had to stop every few seconds to calm down. I didn’t want to orgasm just yet.

That afternoon I spent the day in a haze of denied pleasure. Firstly I spent it trying my hand at preparing a proper evening meal, cooking for myself. It was amazing how I gravitated to this and it was a pleasure to actually try to concoct a proper cooked meal. But, as I moved about the kitchen the sensations that my dress and emotions played on me drove my excitement even higher so that I felt the sheer pleasure taking over and guiding my actions. It was weird to suddenly, in the middle of stirring a hot saucepan, to feel the sudden urge to run upstairs and lay down on the bed before the threatened orgasm destroyed my domestic actions. I, luckily, turned the stove off before I ran up to mother’s boudoir.

After that little episode I went back downstairs again, having managed to stop myself from totally staining my new clothes by catching my seed in my bare hands. Funnily, I had this weird urge to taste it and I raised the palm of my hand to my mouth and licked at the glutinous effusion. Amazingly, it tasted salty, slightly pungent and not at all unpleasant. The rest of the afternoon and early evening passed in a haze of pleasure, and fun. By the time that evening started to draw close it was time to dress for evening, but I was too tired and instead elected to do what mother did frequently. I went for a long bath and then dressed in my night gown and matching negligee. I still kept on my nylons and suspender belt, that was lovely, and my high, stiletto heels, of course.

 

 

Once more I was relaxing downstairs. I had, this late afternoon for it was nearly five o clock, decided to have a sweet sherry and I was sipping this whilst Leafing through some of my favourite literature, this time a copy of Tatler magazine. This one issue was my favourite as it featured mother in one of its social spreads and there were two good pictures of her dressed in one of her, and my, favourite gowns, a lovely pale blue, duchesse satin ball gown with a full skirt and strapless bodice. This was matched with a pair of black satin evening gloves and a black taffeta stole. She looked absolutely scrumptious and I never tired of gazing at that picture.

At that moment I wasn’t really that hot, just pleasantly excited, my body hard, but not insistently so and I was idly caressing my left nipple with my hand, teasing it gently, when the rattle of a key in the front door, then the sound of the door opening, froze me totally rigid. With open mouth I turned my head to the door of the drawing room and waited, like a rabbit trapped in the headlights of a car. A figure entered and paused, I gasped as did the woman, as that is who it was.

‘Georgie?’ She whispered. I just nodded, speechless. ‘Georgie, is it really you?’ She moved into the room, elegant and beautiful, as usual and placed the overnight case she was carrying on the floor.I found my voice, well, sort off. ‘Yes,’ I whispered. ‘It’s me, Mother,’ then burst into tears. ‘I’m sorry mother, I’m so. so sorry!’

 

End of chapter 3.

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