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My mom always had a talent for looking elegant without trying too hard. "And you can't really call yourself a slut if you're not fucking a lot of guys, and I don't think you've fucked anybody in over a year. She looked elegant now, sitting to the right of me at a small, round, wrought-iron table under the shade of an elm tree on the patio of a restaurant in the city. No one could hear me but mom, but I could tell she was hanging on every word. "It's been a few days since you've done anything slutty, so how about if I have you do something slutty and we'll see how we both feel about." "You mean today? She covered them hastily as well as she could with her shoes, and then she looked up, obviously to see if anyone had noticed her. I just looked at the fringes of the blue panties peeking out from under mom's shoes under the table. "I hope you are satisfied." "I'm satisfied with that," I said. I've got a lot more in mind than that." I paused and let that sit with her. "The one the other day where you told me about being on the beach with dad? " I kept my voice down, but at the last sentence mom looked up and around her, with a nervous manner, obviously wondering if anyone could hear what I was saying. I was speaking loud enough for her to hear me, but not loudly enough for anyone else to hear me. Mom wriggled her knees and legs, and the panties dropped down her shins to her feet.

"How about if I give you the chance to do what you wanted to do with dad? "I mean, mom, with me you can do what you wanted to do with dad," I said. I'll help you do that." Mom didn't reply immediately, but she arched her brows, and the corners of her mouth twisted in a wry expression. If you do that they're going to see it." She furrowed her brow, and I thought it looked cute. We had done so much already that the shock threshold had moved a lot. "You take the photo with your phone, and text it to me." She opened her mouth slowly as though she was forming the words to refuse, and I interrupted her. I held my phone up to my face, eagerly awaiting mom's text. The soft skin, the delicate petal-like lips, even the hint of dew inside the depths between them -- all were on display in the photo. Just moments later I saw it: a pair of tiny blue panties, emerging from below the hem of mom's elegant dress and stretched between her knees. "I can't forget that conversation, or what happened after it." "Good," I said. Then I saw one hand reach quickly up under the dress. But you also told me dad didn't like it, and after that day you didn't do it any more when you were married." I paused again. " "Mom, "I said, putting on a lascivious grin for her, "Take off your panties. Then she looked over my shoulder, and then to either side of her. Mom exhaled a short, sharp breath of air, and then she put both of her hands under the table on either side of her dress. After what seemed like ages, the familiar ping sounded. I saw the struggle in her face, but her desire won out. " "After the things we've done together, mom," I said, "I can tell it's something you still want to do, but you weren't able to do it married to dad, and you haven't been able to do it until now." She kept staring back at me, trying to maintain an impassive expression. My eyes were fixed on my own phone, waiting for the text to appear. The image on my phone screen was darker than I wished it was, the result of mom not having used a flash when she took the photo. But it was unmistakably a photograph of my hot mom's pussy under her blue skirt.

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