Unlike my shy sister who had always dressed rather conservatively, hiding her nice body, mom had always dressed provocatively but classy (if that is a combination that makes sense). She had always been a dress or skirt type of woman and my obsession with nylon legs definitely began with her. I remember sneaking into her room as a teenager and using her pantyhose to masturbate myself, envisioning losing my virginity to her. My head was spinning at the possibility of making my longest running sexual fantasy a reality.Just as the song was nearing completion, I felt Mom's hand on my cock as she whispered in my ear, "Are you hard because of me?"My cock flinched in her hand as all I could do was whimper."I'll take that as a yes, Anthony," she purred."Oh God Mom," I barely got out."I have to cut the cake and dance with your father but I should be able to disappear for a few minutes in about half an hour," Mom explained, looking completely insatiable."Are you serious?" I asked, even though. I was shrinking. I felt my hairbrush the back of my neck and years of confidence melt away. Determinedopposition of Lady Varnham gave way to meek uncertainty."Stop this," I said, my girlish voice cracking. I felt the fabric of mynow-dress hanging strangely off smaller shoulders, my waist suckingitself in. "You know it won't work. You tried."Her smile broadened, and it affected me. I saw love and approval in thatexpression, and I wanted both. I tried to rationalize against it, but myown mind felt alien. I was assaulted by a sudden, confusing andpowerfully hormonal mix of emotions, from curiosity regarding Parisianfashion to a desire to look at boys. A pair of breasts budded and pushedoutward from my chest, but had barely become more than puffy cones whenthey reversed course and retreated back from whence they came. As I keptshrinking I knew they were biding their time until I reached womanhood ina more natural fashion.My penis was gone, but it hardly mattered as the room kept getting.
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