When she did that, the pink sweetness showed, and if she was excited, the tip of her clit would stick forward slightly. She parted her legs wide, then lifted them into the air, pulling them toward her shoulders, giggling lewdly, wondering if her son would squirt now, seeing crotch, her cunt and the spreading of her rounded asscheeks. The lewd, inviting position would certainly make his young cock hard again, that was for sure.

After a while, she stood and went to her room, letting the robe fall from her shoulders. Naked, Misty was a dream, a real hard-on-producing dream. Total nakedness often was not inviting as certain articles of clothing, she knew, but absolute nakedness was delicious, too. She selected a pair of skimpy bikini panties, white, with tiny red hearts on them. They were cut high on her hips, cupping her tight ass perfectly. The crotch puffed outward with her cunt and the lush curls.

She then fit a bra on her tits, a bra that lifted, but kept her tits exposed. She pulled a pink sweater on, and was pleased with the effect. Her nipples pushed at the sweater, molded, pointed. She frowned as she looked through her collection of shorts, and decided on a short skirt. Short skirts were coming back into fashion, and that delighted her. She was the type of woman who could wear short skirts very well, with her exquisitely long legs and lovely body. After putting the skirt on, she slipped her feet into soft leather, knee-high boots with high heels. Her dark hair swirled about her shoulders as she examined herself in a long mirror.

When she returned to the living room, Billy was there. He looked at her, a light starting in his eyes. He had slipped into fresh shorts, with a white T-shirt, and was bare-footed.

"Are you going someplace, Mom?" he asked. "I wasn't thinking about it," she replied, standing at his side and running her hand through his hair.

"Then why dress up?"