It all started when his stepmom came downstairs one evening wearing just her knickers and bra and nothing else. Dad told her to go and put some clothes on. He’d caught her a few times like this, lolling about the house in just her knickers and bra. He didn’t mind it when there was just the two of them in the house but he didn’t think it was right when their son Oliver was there to see it.
“The boy doesn’t want to be looking at that,” he said to her.
“It’s the middle of summer,” said mom in her defence. “It’s too hot to be wearing clothes.”
She plonked herself down on the sofa.
Dad moved up to the other side of the sofa.
“Oliver doesn’t want to see you like that.”
“What do you mean? It’s not as if I’m naked.”
“You may as well be for what you’re wearing.”
Oliver didn’t say anything. He just stayed curled up in his armchair watching the telly.
“And anyway,” continued mom, “it wouldn’t matter if I was naked. You can be such a prude sometimes, Rufus. Honestly.”
Oliver allowed a quick image of his mom naked to enter his head but then he concentrated on the telly to take his mind off it.
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Mom scratched her pussy through her silky panties.
Dad gave a tut.
“Jayne! Stop doing that!”
“Bloody ‘ell, Rufus! It’s itchy. What do you expect me to do?”
“The boy doesn’t want to see his mom messing with her pussy like that.”
“Will you stop turning it into a big issue? The lad probably didn’t even see me.”
“I didn’t,” Oliver said, not taking his eyes from the TV screen.
“You see,” said mom.
“Well I did,” said dad.
“Well you shouldn’t have been looking. And anyway, even if Oliver did see, it wouldn’t bother him. Would it, son?”
“What?”
“It wouldn’t bother you if you saw me scratching my pussy.”
“No.”
This was all getting a bit awkward for Oliver.
“The lad probably does it himself anyway,” said mom. “Isn’t that right, son? You scratch your balls when they get itchy, don’t you?”
“Eh?”
“Your balls. You scratch them when they get itchy.”
“I don’t have itchy balls.”
Dad had had enough of all this talk about itchy pussy and balls.
“Can we change the subject, please?”
“You started it,” said mom.
“No I didn’t,” said dad. “You started it by scratching your pussy.”
Now Oliver had had enough.
“Can we stop talking about mom’s pussy, please?”
“Exactly,” said dad.
Oliver gave a tut and shook his head.
Mom caught dad giving her a disapproving look.
“What have I done now?” mom said.
“Go and put some clothes on, will you?”
“Shut up. I’m staying as I am. It’s too hot and sticky to be wearing clothes, and I’m not talking about my pussy.”
Dad didn’t find that amusing but Oliver laughed out loud.
“Did you like that one, son?” asked mom, feeling pleased with herself.
“Yeah. Good one that, mom.”
Dad gave a tut.
“You’re as bad as each other, you two.”
Dad kissed his wife.
“Right, I’m off. I’ll see you later.”
“Bye, love. Hope you win.”
Dad was off to a darts match at The Red Lion.
“Bye, son. And make her put some bloody clothes on.”
“See you later, dad.”
Dad went off to the pub leaving his wife and son in the house.
“Thank god for that,” mom said, and she scratched her pussy again.
Oliver gave a laugh.
“This is more like it, eh, son?”
Oliver glanced at his mom then quickly looked away.
“It’s too hot to be wearing all those clothes, son. Take them off.”
“What?”
“It’s just us now, son. We don’t have to worry about your dad.”
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