Mom_s on the make
Sitting in the car waiting for her son as he bought a soft drink at the drive-in window, Misty had the most powerful urge to expose herself.
There was a group of teenagers, boys and girls, sifting about twenty feet away at a small table, sipping soft drinks. There was no one else around, and the urge to flash her legs, her crotch, at the boys and girls was almost overpowering.
She looked at her son as he stood leaning into the window. He wore jogging shorts, bright red with a yellow strip up the sides, and was bare chested. His body looked good to her. It was not the first time she had admired his body. She had been admiring it since he had been very little, and more now that he was a teenager. It wasn't that Misty was turned on by teenagers, she was just one hell of a hot woman, a very erotic woman.
This desire to expose herself was something new.
She had never thought of doing it before, although she knew the boys in school would get turned on by her high kicks, and the truth be known, so had she.
As she resisted the urge to expose her crotch to the teenagers, watching her son's back, she cursed her husband, her dead husband. If he had only been more careful in that new sports car, maybe she wouldn't be having these crazy urges, wanting to expose herself, eyeing her son as if she wanted to devour his body. If he was still alive, he would take care of this almost uncontrollable heat between her slim thighs.
But he was dead. Almost a year dead now. She looked down at her body. She wore a sleeveless sweater, and if she held her arms just right, the creamy curves of her naked tits could be seen, maybe even her nipples. The white, pleated skirt was above her knees as she sat under the wheel of the car, her nyloned legs parted just a little. She wondered what the reaction would be from the group of boys and girls if she opened the door and spread her legs wide apart. They wouldn't see much, really. She had on a pair of white bikini panties, but they were very sheer. All they would see would be the darkened outline of her pussy hair, her legs. It wouldn't be as if she was actually showing her cunt to them, she thought.
She turned her attention back to her son, who was scratching at his upper thigh. As she watched him, he lifted his shorts just enough so the cheek of his ass showed, and scratched briefly. It had been enough to tell her that Billy wasn't wearing underwear beneath his shorts, and the idea sent a gentle pulsation through her pussy.
She wondered what Billy would say if she opened the door and spread her legs as he came back to the car. She wondered if he would look at her, or turn his eyes away, blushing because he had seen his mother's panties.
The urge was stronger, and she tried to think of something else, anything not erotic.