Only silence

I've always thought of my mother as a conservative woman—conservative in her manners and clothing. She never uttered foul language herself and wouldn't allow my sister and me to use it either. She went to church every week, rain or shine, for years. Neat and austere, serious and devout—that's been my image of my mother for so long.

However, something happened later that made me start to consider another possibility: perhaps my mother had another side that no one knew about.

It was an afternoon after school, and a few friends and I were huddled in our kitchen, wolfing down snacks. I finished my "battle" first and went to the basement to turn on the game console, intending to invite them down to play online games later.

A few minutes later, I went upstairs to find a power cable. That's when I saw my mother in the kitchen; she had probably just come home from work. I hurried into the living room and started searching for the cable. I didn't make much noise, so they probably didn't notice me. I could hear their conversation from the living room.

Mom greeted my friends, and they all responded, "Hi, Mrs. Baring!"

"Where's Brad?" Mom asked.

"He's downstairs connecting his game console to the internet!" Brian replied.

They chatted for a while longer. Mom asked them how school was, if they needed more snacks and drinks, and so on. My friends answered one by one.

Finally, Mom said, "I got some stains on my clothes at lunch, so I'd better take them off now and wash them properly." Hearing this, I felt a little uneasy, so I turned my head to look.

From my angle, I could see Mom's tall figure and her long, light brown hair. She was facing away from me, wearing ordinary work clothes: a jacket, a sweater, and black trousers.

She slowly took off her jacket, draped it over the back of an empty chair, and then swayed gently as she slowly walked into the adjacent laundry room—our laundry room was connected to the kitchen.

All eyes were fixed on her figure; no one noticed my presence.

Mom seemingly casually closed the laundry room door, leaving a gap at least a foot wide. My friends craned their necks, peering inside.

From my position, I could only see part of Mom's figure, but my friends could see her clearly; they were less than two meters away from her.

I saw Mom grab the edge of her sweater, pull it over her head, and take it off. Then she unbuttoned her black trousers, slowly peeling them off along her shapely, long legs. She stood there gracefully, wearing only a black bra and pink cotton panties.

For the first time in my life, I realized how perfect Mom's figure was! Full breasts, a pert bottom, long legs, a slender waist—her curves were exquisite and alluring; she exuded a mature and sexy aura.

I stared in disbelief at Mom's figure as she picked up the clothes and threw them into the washing machine. My friends, too, stared intently at her body, holding their breath. My

mother, with her back to the door, took a few clothes from the hanger, then bent down and put on some coarse twill cotton trousers. Her movements were unhurried, and everyone's eyes were focused on her round, large buttocks.

Then she turned around, and under the boys' watchful eyes, slowly and deliberately fastened her belt and put on a t-shirt. She seemed oblivious to everyone else, as if she had no idea of the hungry gazes outside the door. Her black bra disappeared beneath the loose t-shirt, her full, firm breasts forming two rounded, alluring outlines.

My mother opened the door and went back into the kitchen. The boys snapped out of their daze and hastily averted their gazes. Everyone remained silent; the atmosphere in the room remained eerily quiet.

I also quickly moved away, hearing my mother say simply, "See you later, boys!"

Then there was a clattering sound as my mother went upstairs.

The moment Mom disappeared, the oppressive atmosphere in the kitchen seemed to suddenly ease. My friends began to groan and breathe heavily, one after another, each seemingly relieved.

"She usually looks as serious as a nun," I heard Zade whisper, "but when Brad isn't around, she acts like a prostitute!" His comment elicited a chorus of snickers.

I felt both angry and embarrassed. Damn it! Mom's behavior was unbelievable! How could she humiliate me like that, letting my friends see her half-naked?! She hadn't even let me see!

Just now, she was only wearing two layers of underwear, posing provocatively in front of my friends, making them talk about her like a prostitute now—it was truly humiliating!

My anger was still boiling over by evening. Finally, after my friends had all left, my sister Susan came home from school. This left me without an opportunity to confront Mom and vent my pent-up frustration.

I felt incredibly frustrated all evening. It was almost bedtime, and Susan was still downstairs watching TV. I saw my mother get up and go upstairs, probably to her room. I quickly tidied myself up and followed her. I wanted to confront her and ask her why she had done that.

I ran upstairs and saw my mother's bedroom door open; she was about to go into the bathroom. I stormed into the room, and my mother turned to look at me. "What's wrong, Brad?"

"Mom, all the guys saw you changing in the laundry room!"

"What? Oh, no, I don't think they saw you."

"Of course they saw you! They were right outside the door! You left the door wide open!"

"Oh, the door wasn't wide open," she denied with a smile, a nonchalant expression on her face, her hands casually on her hips. This made me even angrier.

"Aha! I saw it with my own eyes, the door was wide open! You could have closed it, or even changed in the bathroom, but you deliberately let them see you in your underwear, half-naked! Why did you do that? Do you know how embarrassed I am? I can't even face my friends now!"

"Oh, it's nothing, just underwear."

"Just underwear?! You haven't even shown me what you look like in your underwear!" I was furious and blurted out without thinking, "Fine, I'm going to tell Dad about this and see what he thinks!"

My eyes were blazing with anger, but she didn't seem to care, as if I were being unreasonable. My mother's nonchalant attitude made me feel that she didn't respect my feelings at all.

"Please don't tell your father, okay?" my mother said softly. It seemed my threat had worked, making her take me a little more seriously.

"You want me to keep this a secret and not let Dad know?" I snorted, still angry.

Mom gazed into my eyes, hesitated for a moment, as if weighing the pros and cons. Then she nodded slightly and said softly, "If I let you see me in my underwear, will you promise not to tell your father?"

Huh! Ha! Wait, is Mom proposing a bribe to keep me silent? For a moment, I was at a loss, even unable to believe my ears. Was this real? Could I really do it?

I was both surprised and tempted, and a little guilty. Before I could even respond, I suddenly heard the garage door open downstairs. Mom heard it too. Without a doubt, Dad was home.

"You promise not to tell your father?" Mom asked me again, each word carefully enunciated, her expression calm and composed.

Just then, I heard the door downstairs leading to the garage open, and Dad's distinctive footsteps entered the kitchen.

"Oh, okay! I promise!" I mumbled sleepily.

Mom crossed her arms, grabbed the edge of her t-shirt, and pulled it off over her head, just like I'd seen her that afternoon.

She threw the t-shirt on the floor, reached down, and unbuttoned her jeans, pulling them down to her hips. Then Mom bent down and pulled the jeans off her long legs.

I stared blankly at the large expanse of full, white breasts about to spill out from the top of her black bra, and the mysterious, deep cleavage between her high peaks. I felt my mouth go dry, and though I moved my lips, I couldn't utter a single word.

My God! I'd never realized before how large Mom's breasts were!

Mom stepped lightly out from under her clothes and took two steps closer to me. She gathered her flowing, beautiful long hair with both hands, palms facing upwards, and like a lingerie model facing a camera, she turned to the side, tucked her legs in, and swayed her hips, striking several breathtakingly sexy poses in front of me.

"See, it's nothing special," Mom said calmly. Her attitude was nonchalant, but a hint of ambiguity appeared on her face, as if implying that the truth wasn't quite as she described.

I was speechless, dumbfounded. This was the first time in my life I had ever seen a woman wearing only a bra and panties posing so seductively—just for me. Good heavens! And such a sexy beauty at that! Even though this woman was my mother!

I stared, mouth agape, for a long time, until the sound of Dad's footsteps coming upstairs dispelled this dreamlike scene.

Mom quickly grabbed her pajamas from the bedside table, turned gracefully, and elegantly walked into the bathroom. I felt as if I were nailed to the spot by invisible shackles, unable to move. My gaze involuntarily followed the two swaying buttocks beneath her thin cotton panties as she walked in and closed the door.

I was in a state of shock and trembling. I never imagined I would be so aroused, simply because I saw my mother in her underwear!

I stumbled back to my room, climbed onto my bed, and for the first time in my life, fantasized about my mother ejaculating!

My God, my mother is such a slut!

[The End]

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