Mother And I Have A Super Bowl Party, Part II free porn video

Mother and I Have A Super Bowl Party, Part II By Sandy Brown Author's Note: I had this chapter filled with some my favorite, fun, feminine and flirty images. Unfortunately I have been advised that many of the images I have selected from the internet, even though widely distributed, are copyrighted. For those who would like to see the story with images, feel free to email me at [email protected]. Mother and I got up a little early and she sat me down with a bag of cotton balls and her nail polish remover. I looked one more time at my nails. I held my hand away from me and spread my fingers, looking at my hands the way a girl would. Then Mother soaked a cotton ball with the nail polish remover and cleaned the polish off my nails. I was amazed at how quickly the polish came off. The whole time, she was joking about how pretty my nails looked and what a shame it was to take the polish off. I was nervous because I worried that if there were any traces left, it might be spotted by someone, and then I would have a lot of explaining to do. In spite of Mother saying it would be totally understandable to say I had lost a Super Bowl bet, I did not think that having to explain why there were traces of polish on my nails would help my popularity in school. We finished and I headed off to school. When she was removing all that polish, it looked like everything had come off. But sitting in my desk at school the next day, I realized that there were some traces of pink polish left on the cuticles. OMG! I was VERY nervous that someone would see. But I was also excited, thinking I had a secret that I was hiding in plain sight. Anyway, I made it through school without incident. What followed was the longest two weeks of my life! There is the old joke about how people in really small towns spend their time - watching the grass grow. Try watching your nails grow! OMG - I must have looked at my nails a thousand times over those two weeks, mentally encouraging them to grow! I wanted the longest possible nails for my bet-payment manicure! During that time, Mother made lots of passing remarks about how she was looking forward to collecting on the bet. She said she was glad that we were waiting two weeks, because as cute as my nails looked that night of the Super Bowl, they would look much more feminine and graceful after letting them grow for two weeks. She asked me if anyone had said anything about their increasing length, and I told her that no one had. I assumed they just thought I was a lazy boy who was not grooming himself properly. She said I should be thinking about what color I wanted. She said she thought that Off the Shoulder had looked great on me, but there were other good choices. She had a color called Watermelon, which was similar, but a slightly deeper pink, which she thought would look "lovely". I had to admit that I loved the idea of my nails looking lovely! Friday night finally arrived. After dinner, Mother said, "Honey, I think it will be fun to have the same color. So I am going to do mine first, ok? I know this is a one-time deal, but why don't you watch anyway. It can't hurt for you to learn how to give a proper manicure. Who knows, if you got good at it, maybe I would start paying you to be my personal 'nail tech'. That's a much easier way to earn money than mowing the lawn!" I had spent two weeks fantasizing about having my nails painted by Mother. What I had not thought about was the idea of me painting hers! Oh, I loved the idea of being her personal manicurist! And getting paid to do it, no less! Maybe she would want me to wear a smock, kind of like the apron I wore when we prepared our hors d' oeuvres for the Super Bowl. Mother said, "What do you think, Honey? Do you think that might be a fun way for you to make some money?" I kind of shrugged but said, yes, that might be good. Then Mother said, "Well, of course, you would have to become proficient first. And that would require lots of practice. Obviously you would have to practice on yourself. Maybe we can set up a system, where I inspect your nails. When you get a passing grade three times in a row, you can graduate to working on mine, and start earning money." I had not thought about that. This seemed a little tricky. Just like Mother had used the seemingly innocent ruse of a Super Bowl bet to paint my nails, this seemed to be a way to get me to KEEP doing my nails. Just for practice of course. So I could make money doing hers. Uh Huh. Mother concluded, "Why don't we see how this weekend goes first? By Sunday night, you may never want to put another stroke of nail polish on your fingers again." Then she added with a mischevious smile, "On the other hand, you may find that you like it!" Mother chattered on a bit. She said, "I mean, I am totally addicted to wearing nail polish. To me, it's almost like mascara. I can't imagine my nails without nail polish, just like I would never think of going out of the house without mascara!" I laughed and said, "Mother, thanks for clearing that up! NOW I know what you mean! Of course I would never think about leaving the house without my mascara!" Mother and I both giggled at that one. Finally the moment arrived. Mother was determined to get the most out of winning her bet, and she made a big ceremony out of the manicure. My nails were so much longer! They went almost half an inch past my nail bed! When she pushed down the cuticles, and shaped the tips into a feminine oval shape, they looked so long and elegant! Even without the polish, my hands already looked completely different! I felt that my senses were quite heightened, and just like two weeks before, when she applied that very first stroke of color to one of my nails, I almost gasped. Once again, the simple act of painting my nails felt like I was being transformed into a girl. I sat there breathlessly while Mother chatted on while she painted my nails, talking about how some women match their nail color to their lipsticks. And how their lipstick should fit in with both their eye makeup and clothing. And before I knew it, I got a whole lecture on makeup and fashion. Even though I paid more attention than most boys to things like fashion and makeup (although I would never admit it) I never really fully understood how carefully fashion-conscious women like my mother made sure that their nail polish was coordinated with their lipstick and other makeup, as well as their clothing. But now that Mother explained it, it made perfect sense. I know that a boy was not supposed to be interested in such things, but I did find the whole thing fascinating! There was this whole world, right in front of us, that we boys and men knew virtually nothing about! And I felt like I had just been given a little peak into that world! I was daydreaming a little, not completely hearing Mother, when she said, "Do you want me to show you what I mean?" I had not heard the previous sentence, so I was not quite sure what she was referring to. So I just said yes. Mother got up and came back a moment later with her purse. She fished around inside it and came up with a Chanel lipstick and a compact. She opened the compact to the mirror, took the cap off the lipstick, and began applying the lipstick. Slowly, carefully, sensually. Mother took a tissue, blotted her lips, and then reapplied. The lipstick did not exactly match the nail polish, but it seemed to perfectly compliment it. My heart was already beating a mile a minute from having Mother paint my nails. Watching her put on her lipstick sent my heart rate through the roof. I thought I was having a heart attack. There was something incredibly erotic about it. I felt like I was watching a performance. A performance just for me. She finished, put the lipstick away, looked at me, batted her eyelashes and flirtatiously said, "What do you think? See how it goes with our nail color?" 'Our' nail color. I could barely talk. I think Mother could see I was in extremis. I said, "Oh Mother. You look..." and the only word I could think of was the one she had used to describe my new nail color. "You look lovely." Mother looked so pleased. She got up, came over to me, and planted a gentle kiss not on my cheek, but on my lips. Oh, my. She said, "Thank you, Honey." Then she said, "Oh, look, I left a little on your lips. And it does go perfectly with that nail color!" I blushed and Mother continued. "And you look lovely too, Honey. I know this is just a silly bet, but your nails look gorgeous! Any girl would love to have hands and nails as pretty as yours. You should be proud of your nails! And by the way, I am also proud of the way you held up your end of the bet!" I was embarrassed, by my beautiful pink nails, and the trace of lipstick on my lips, but also incredibly aroused. At this point I wanted nothing so much as to be alone in my bedroom. While my nails were drying, Mother went and got her jewelry box. She said, "You are going to bed soon, so no need to put jewelry on now, but let's see if we can find some fun accessories for tomorrow. This will transform your hands from those of a girl to those of a pretty young lady!" Mother picked out a few lovely pieces - some gold bangles, a couple of delicate gold and diamond rings, and a young and modern-looking white Chanel ceramic watch. I had never worn jewelry before - this would be interesting! I woke up the next morning and the first thing I did was look at my nails. They really were gorgeous, and they certainly did not look like they belonged to me. It was as if I had borrowed someone else's hands. It reminded me of when Mother had laid her hand over mine. Yes, it was like I had borrowed Mother's hands. When I sat down to breakfast, any hope I had that Mother would let me spend the weekend inside the house was dashed. She started talking about going to the mall, and going out to a local restaurant for lunch. I almost got the feeling that the idea of having people see her son with his pretty painted nails was almost as much fun to her as actually doing my nails. Did she want to embarrass me? I wasn't sure. Mother could see that I was nervous about the prospect of going out with my nails. When I had fantasized about it, it seemed like so much fun. I had loved the idea of being a little outrageous, of having the waitress be a little speechless when she saw my hands. But now that it was about to happen, it did not feel like such a great idea. Once again, it seemed like Mother could read my mind. She decided to throw me a small lifeline. Sort of. She said, "I'll tell you what. How about if we skip the jewelry for today. OK?" That seemed like a small concession. But I thought it might make it easier to hide my hands. I hugged her and said, "Thanks, Mommie." It was the first time I had called her Mommie since I was a toddler. I didn't think about it, it just came out of my mouth. Mother seemed pleased. We headed out to the mall. As we browsed through Nordstrom's, first in Ladies' Shoes and then in Resort Wear, I was a little uncomfortable being the only boy in these departments, but it was easy enough for me to keep my hands in my pockets. I thought, 'This isn't so bad. I can get through a weekend like this.' There were one or two moments that were a little awkward. In the Resort Wear Department, Mother was busy gathering outfits off the racks to try on in the dressing room, and she asked me to hold her purse. I couldn't really say no, and I couldn't really hide my nails if I were carrying her purse. I just prayed that no one would notice. Everything was going ok until a store attendant offered to help Mother by opening up a dressing room for her, and taking the clothes off her hands. When she did that, Mother asked for her purse, which I handed her. The store attendant saw my nails, and her eyes opened wide. It wasn't like she thought I might be a tomboy or something. I mean, I had these gorgeous, long, painted nails, but otherwise looked completely like a boy. She said nothing, and Mother offered no explanations. I was sure she would be talking about me at the dinner table that night! When we went to lunch at PF Chang's in the mall, things got worse. There was just no way to avoid having the waitress see my nails. She was young, and pretty, and not shy. Right away, she said, "Oh My God, your nails are gorgeous!" She looked me up and down and could see that there was nothing else about me that was feminine - I didn't even have my ears pierced! She said, "I hope you don't think I'm rude for saying so, but it umm, doesn't seem to go with the rest of you. You seem like an ordinary boy!" I didn't know what to say. Mother finally said, "Well, he lost a bet to me at the Super Bowl." But the waitress was not so easily convinced. She said, "Oh really? Because, well, his nails are so long! It looks like he has been growing them out!" Mother said, "Yes, that was part of the bet." The waitress said, "Oh, I have to show the other girls!" That was exactly what I did not want to hear. Before I knew it, there was a small crowd of waitresses gathered around me, asking me to display my nails. I thought I was going to die of embarrassment. It got worse as the other restaurant patrons started noticing the commotion and looked over to see what was going on. Some even left their tables to come over. Before I knew it, there must have been ten people standing there looking at me and my nails. Some people were being nice and saying how pretty they were, and others were being a little snarky and saying things like, "How come you don't have matching lipstick?" One little girl said to her mother, "Mommie, how come that boy is wearing nail polish and you told Robbie that he wasn't allowed to do that?" Her mother shushed her and pulled her away by her hand. One woman looked at my mother, shook her head and said, "This is your fault. Why are you embarrassing him like this?" Mother gave her an icy stare and said, "This was his choice. And anyway, why don't you mind your own business?" The crowd gradually started drifting away. When I had fantasized about it, I thought that a scene like this would be so much fun. Me and my pretty nails, the center of attention. But now, I was just mortified. I was on the verge of tears. Finally, lunch was over and we headed home. We were both quiet in the car. That evening, Mother said, "Well, that was an interesting day! I guess we attracted a bit more attention than we thought we would." I nodded in agreement. I knew I had agreed to the whole weekend, and I really wanted to live up to my end of the bet, but I was getting panicked at the thought of going through a replay of lunch. Mother continued. "Honey, I am guessing you had no problem with showing off your pretty nails, but it was embarrassing that people knew you were a boy, right?" I nodded again. I was hoping she would say that she was satisfied that I had lived up to the bet, and that we could take the polish off and cut my nails. Actually, I didn't really want to do that. I loved my nails. But I would have loved to just spend Sunday in the house. If I thought Mother was going to let me off the hook, I was wrong. Still, she clearly had some sympathy for what I had been through that day. Mother said, "Well, I have an idea. You know, if we did a few simple things, we could make it so that it is not clear if you are a boy or a girl. Then when people see those nails, and your jewelry, they will assume you are a girl. Then you will have nothing to be embarrassed about, right?" I asked Mother what kind of "few simple things" she was talking about. She said, "Well, we are roughly the same size. I could lend you some of my clothes. Not a dress or anything, but, say, a pair of my jeans. And my boots. And maybe a blouse or a sweater. I can style your hair with a little mousse. I might even have some clip-on earrings laying around. And with just a little bit of makeup, say some mascara and some blush and a little lipstick, you will have a perfectly feminine but androgynous look. Then, no one will give a second thought to your nails. What do you say? Should we go for it?" I did not speak for a moment. I had to digest what she was saying. Somehow we had gone from a simple bet on the Super Bowl, to me growing and painting my nails, to now talking about me wearing makeup and some of my mother's clothes. And going out that way! Oh, my, how did I get myself into this? As I got ready for bed, Mother came into my room carrying something. It was a floor-length, white flannel nighty with little flowers all over it. She handed it to me and said, "Since you will be wearing some of my clothes tomorrow, I thought you might start tonight with something soft and comfy." I had the uneasy feeling that this was having less and less to do with the bet. Still, the nightie looked very inviting, and the whole thing felt harmless. I took it from Mother and said, "Thank you Mommie." She gave me a hug and said, "You're welcome Honey. Night Night." Mother left my bedroom, and I put the nightgown on over my head. I got in my bed but didn't turn the light out. I snuggled in my nightie, and looked at my beautiful fingernails, wondering what was happening to me.... I woke up the next morning, and Mother told me she had been thinking about what I should wear. She said she laid out some clothes on her bed for me. She said, "Do you want some help, or do you think you can manage on your own?" I told her I would try to manage on my own. She said, "The jeans will be very tight, but that is the way they are supposed to fit. The material is a little stretchy, so even though they are tight, you should be able to get into them. Also, even though no one will see your underwear, it doesn't seem right for you to be wearing boy's underwear with these clothes. So I left you a pair of panties. I don't have a bra that would fit you, but I did leave you a pretty silk camisole that you can wear under the blouse." A bra?? I looked at her like she was crazy. She wanted me to wear a bra so no one would notice my fingers? That didn't make too much sense to me! But since she did not have one for me to wear anyway, I decided not to say anything. She continued, oblivious to my concerns. "Also, I left you some knee- highs. Put those on before the jeans. Just point the seams towards the tips of your toes. They will help you to get the boots on. You may need my help with the boots. The heel is a medium height, but they will probably feel high to you, since you are not used to any heel at all. I know this is a lot of new stuff for you, so if you have any trouble, just holler. I will be right downstairs." Mother shut the door behind her and I just stood there, looking at the bed. Two weeks ago, I had never tried anything feminine. And then, because of a silly bet, I ended up having polish put on my nails. Last night, I went to bed wearing one of Mother's nighties. And now, here I was in her bedroom, about to get dressed with her clothes. And she was acting as if it were the most natural thing in the world! How did all of this happen so fast? And how did I feel about it? Well, I was scared, but I was also excited. I know it was weird for a boy to have long, polished fingernails, and I knew I couldn't keep them, but I loved them. It was true that it was not fun to have everyone staring at me in the restaurant, but some of the people did say nice things, like how pretty my nails were. And sleeping last night in Mommie's nightie, oh, my, it felt so soft and wonderful. I knew that, no matter what else happened, I was never going to go back to sleeping in boy's PJ's again. But putting on Mother's clothes? And not even secretly, but with her encouragement? It didn't even feel real. It felt like I was living in a dream. I kept telling myself that this was because of a bet, and that Mother was giving me her clothes to put on because she was just trying to make it easier for me to go out in public with my long nails. But inside, I knew that none of that really made any sense. If she had wanted to, she could have said I fulfilled the conditions of the bet two weeks earlier, the night of the game, when she painted my nails as a 'preview'. But she didn't, and I didn't object. It was time for me to stop thinking and start getting dressed. I picked up the panties and slipped them on. I had never felt anything like that! They were so smooth and silky! It felt sooo good. And, well, knowing they were Mother's made it even more exciting. I was wearing Mother's panties! That felt like such a naughty secret. Unfortunately, my boy part reacted to my excitement, and I had trouble figuring how to keep it from poking out and looking obvious. Finally I just kind of pushed it down and between my legs, and hoped I would not stay excited for the whole day. Next came the cami. It was like the panties, smooth and silky, with spaghetti straps on the shoulders and a little lace trim around the bodice. I couldn't help looking at myself in Mother's dressing mirror. I looked so girlie! This was not going to help my boy part to relax. The knee-highs gave me the same reaction. All this was so new for me - all these silky feminine sensations. I might have started out secretly hoping I would lose the bet to have my nails painted, but now I felt like I was hooked on ladies' lingerie. It was all so exquisite. The jeans were next. Mother was right; they were very tight. But they were stretchy, and I did manage to get them up my legs. I loved how they hugged my body. I turned this way and that in front of the mirror, and I had the extremely odd sensation of wishing my behind was more round, looking more like Mother's. I looked at my hips and frowned; they were clearly those of a boy. I couldn't help thinking of Beyonce and the Super Bowl performance, and how sexy she looked. Did I really want hips like that? Well, no, but I thought a little bit of curve might be nice. I couldn't really explain why; I mean, I knew boys were not supposed to have curvy bottoms, and I knew they were not supposed to WANT to have curvy bottoms. And it wasn't like I wanted to actually BE a girl. But there WAS this part of me that pictured myself walking down the street, or in the hallway in school, and having the boys involuntarily turn their heads and stare as I walked by. I put these thoughts out of my head and continued getting dressed. I put on the blouse, fumbling a little with the buttons because they were backwards from what I was used to. Next came the boots. Mother was right, the knee-highs definitely helped. I managed to get into them without calling for Mother. I stood up and looked at myself in the mirror. I loved how everything felt and looked, but I knew I still looked like a boy wearing feminine clothes. I did not look like a girl. I called to Mother and she came upstairs. She could see the look of concern on my face. But she did not seem concerned at all. She smiled and said, "Don't worry, Sweetie, we are going to fix that! Come sit down at my vanity." I sat down at Mother's vanity and she went to work on my face. Before she applied any makeup, she took out her tweezers and said she just wanted to make my brows "a little neater." It looked like an awful lot of hairs got plucked just to make it neater. But Mother did not let me look in a mirror, so I had no idea what my brows now looked like. Finally, she took out her makeup. This was just as pleasurable as having her paint my nails, or putting on her lingerie! And what made it even better was how she talked to me while she was putting the makeup on me, explain every little thing she was doing. As if that were information that might come in handy for the future. She put on some mascara and some blush. I loved the way the big blush brush felt as she applied it to my cheeks! She stood back and looked at her handiwork. She said, "You have very pretty eyes, and I would love to highlight them with some eyeliner and some shadow. But for daytime, for a girl your age, it's really not appropriate." I really couldn't help smiling at that one. As if it were appropriate for me to be wearing any makeup at all! I was expecting Mother to finish up my makeup with the same lipstick that she had showed me the night before. But again, she said that she did not think lipstick was appropriate, that a pretty pink lip gloss would be more suitable. And she took out a tube of Chanel lip gloss and applied it to my lips. Oh, my, I could really feel it! She said, "Lip gloss does not wear as long as lipstick, so you will need to take this with you today and frequently reapply. I will find a little purse for you to put that in, along with some other things that a girl should not be without." Finally, Mother took out a little styling gel and played with my short hair, trying to come up with a look that was a little more feminine. After a few minutes, she seemed satisfied with the result. She then told me I could look in the makeup mirror on the vanity. OMG. I was shocked! I was totally transformed! I looked like a very pretty teenaged girl! It would have been pointless to try to hide my expression. Mother smiled and said, "You like?" I started getting very emotional. This was all so new for me. I had not really thought through any of this. But I knew that yes, I did like. I loved. Mother could see the emotion in my face, and tried to lighten the mood a little. She said, "Don't cry, Princess! That's not waterproof mascara! You don't want to look like a raccoon in the restaurant!" I laughed along with Mother, but couldn't help noticing that she called me Princess. That was yet another first in a day full of them. We left the house and headed off to the mall. Mother wanted to go back to PF Chang's. She was hoping to get the same waitress, to see if she would recognize that I was the boy from the day before. I reminded Mother that the whole point of me wearing her clothes and makeup was so that I would NOT be recognized! Mother laughed and acknowledged my point. We went to Caf? SFA, the restaurant at Saks, with all the "ladies who lunch." In order to get to the cafe, you have to walk through the cosmetics department, which is really almost a whole floor. Mother couldn't help browsing. We stopped at the Chanel counter, where she tried on a few things. The woman behind the counter said, "Is this your daughter? She is so pretty, and she looks just like you!" How was that for flattering both of us at once! My mother paused for a moment. I was really, really hoping she would not say I was her son. She said, "Yes, this is my daughter." I breathed a sigh of relief. The woman said, "Is there anything your daughter needs? Her makeup is lovely. I know she is a little young, but it might be fun to try a little eye shadow. Most people don't think of browns with pink lips, but I find that it goes very well. Shall we try a little?" I looked at Mother. She could see that I wanted to. She said, "Sure, why not?" And the woman applied the eye shadow to my eyes. It was a little dramatic, and I loved it! Mother shook her head a little as if to say, "Too much makeup for a girl your age." But she ended up buying the eye shadow anyway. I couldn't help wondering why she was purchasing it, if this was supposed to be a one-time occasion. We headed from Cosmetics to the Caf?. I loved being there with all of these well-dressed, fashionable women. To make it even better, SAKS was having a fashion show! They had models walking through the restaurant, wearing the latest designer creations! Oh, my, they were all so tall and thin and glamorous! I noticed that none of them had bodies that looked anything like Beyonce. They were almost more like me - thin and angular. And I thought....no, I stopped myself. Of course it was silly to imagine that that could be me one day.... The waitress came and took our order. She was pretty and friendly. She said, "Oh, it's so nice to see a mother and daughter out shopping together. Then she looked at me and said, "Although your mom is so pretty and young looking, you two almost look like sisters!" Mother and I were both smiling from ear to ear. After I ordered, I handed the waitress my menu. As she took it from me she said, "Oh, you have the most gorgeous nails! It must take so much work to keep them that way!" And I said, "Well, it's not too bad. Anyway, it's worth it!" As the waitress walked away, Mother held my hand. I loved how our nails looked together. I quietly said to her, "I'm glad I lost the bet." Mother said, "I know." I looked at her in surprise and said, "When did you know?" She laughed and said, "Don't you think I could see you trying not to root for the Ravens? Anyway, I've always known. Even before you did." I was surprised to hear that, but the more I thought about, the more sense it made. After all, who would know me better than me own mother? I said, "What would you have done if I had won the bet?" She said, "We'll, I would have paid you. And then made another bet on something else. The Super Bowl was just a convenient excuse. Sooner or later I would have won!" I was almost overcome with emotion. My mother had done all this for me, because, really, she knew me better than I knew myself. I did not what was going to happen; all I knew was that I wanted to enjoy the moment. I quietly said, "I love you Mommy." And she replied, "I love you too, Princess." The End