Humiliated by Mommy part 3
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Humiliated By Mommy Part 7 free porn video
Humiliated by Mommy by Naughtieboys [email protected]
© Julian Smith and Em-bare-assed Press 1999-2001. Revised 2014.
THIS STORY IS PURE FICTION (or unpure friction) FOR ADULTS ONLY. NO REAL
CHILDREN WERE HARMED IN THE PRODUCTION OF THIS STORY. BY READING FURTHER,
YOU ARE DECLARING THAT YOU ARE A CONSENTING ADULT.
This work is copyright by the author. Commercial use is prohibited
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Humiliated by Mommy by Naughtieboys
CHAPTER 7 "Yes, that was me, but it wasn't Oprah."
One Saturday, my mother was relaxing in her bra and panties, watching TV.
She called me into the living room.
"Justin, mommy has to go out. Go pick out something for mommy to wear."
"Oh mom," I complained. But seeing the serious look on her face, I
acquiesce to her demand.
As I enter her bedroom, the taboo atmosphere clutches at my throat and my
cock. I usually don't go into her sanctuary (at least not with her
knowledge). I sneak in and try on her panties when she isn't home, but
when she's home it is an unspoken rule that I am to stay out. Her bedroom
smells of perfume. I open one of the huge closets she has stuffed with
clothes. I search and pull out a light summery dress. It's short, like
most of her clothes, but not a micro mini. I return to the living room
and present my selection to her.
"No no, Justin, mommy has a very important appearance to make and I can't
wear anything that casual."
I return the summer number and search for something more formal. I find
an elegant black cocktail dress that once again, is short, but tasteful.
I feel proud of my choice and bring it to her.
"I should have explained more," she informs me. "I need to look sexy.
Look in mommy's other closet, the one near her bathroom, and pick out
something you think mommy looks sexy in. OK, honey?"
I blush at the idea of choosing something for my mother to wear that *I*
think she looks *sexy* in, but I trot back to her room. I return the
cocktail dress and open up mommy's special closet. She keeps her modeling
clothes, and some kinky clothes in it. It is a cedar closet and I always
like the aroma it gives off when I open the door. (As a child, it was my
favorite places to poke around, because the clothes so fascinating and
adult).
I rummage around and decide on a red leather micro miniskirt. I also grab
a pair of black thigh-high boots with five inch stiletto heels. I then
select a low-cut blouse. I bring the choices to my mother, who breaks
into a big grin.
"So you like mommy in these, huh?" she teases. "But you didn't pick out
undies for my outfit. I can't wear a plain bra and panties with such a
sexy get-up, can I?"
I hurry off to her undies draw and come back with a matching yellow silk
bra and panty set, a black garter belt, and black fishnet stockings. My
mother is very pleased with my picks, and takes them back to her bedroom
to change. While she's changing, she calls out for me to put on my suit
because I'm coming with her. I start to question her, but she cuts me off
and informs me we don't have much time.
The only suit I own is a sissy velvet navy blue one, so I reluctantly put
it on. Even though I know exactly what she is going to be wearing, I am
still taken aback when I see my mother in the ensemble. She is a fox in
the leather mini, black fishnets, and thigh-high boots.
She drives us downtown to the TV station. I try and pry any information
out of her, but she is tight-lipped, which makes me all the more nervous.
The next thing I know, I'm onstage. The lights are hot and bright. My
mother is somewhere backstage and Maury Povich is shaking my hand and
introducing himself.
The show starts and the theme is mothers who dress too sexy and embarrass
their kids. There are a number of girls and boys sitting onstage, and
Maury starts interviewing them. One by one, he finds out their stories
(the mothers dress like tarts and it is embarrassing for their children to
be seen in public with their mothers dressed so sexy). Then he brings out
the mothers, who are greeted by a resounding chorus of boos from the
studio audience.
Hey, this isn't so bad, I realize. Each mother's narcissism is exposed.
The audience sides with the kids because their mothers don't pay attention
to how their dressing in public makes their child feel. This is my kinda
show. No wonder they're saving Felicia for last. All except one of the
other mothers is fat and uneducated. Their revealing outfits show more
than anyone would want to see.
Finally, Maury turns to me. "Justin Johnson. Your mother's a model.
You're embarrassed by how she dresses in public. Tell me about it."
I'm nervous in front of the cameras, but I say, "She wears really short
skirts, and everywhere we go people turn their heads and gawk at her.
It's embarrassing. She's my mother. And when my friends come over, they
just want to look at her. It's really embarrassing."
Maury: "OK, let's bring out Felicia Johnson. Felicia, come on out."
My mother gracefully walks out on stage. She has a commanding presence
and walks like a model, making a royal entrance. It contrasts with the
slutty entrances the other mothers have made, wriggling their fat asses in
front of the audience. The crowd still boos her, but they're not out for
blood like they were with the other mothers.
Maury greets her, "Felicia, your son is embarrassed by the way you look.
What do you have to say to him?"
My mother turns compassionately to me and softly speaks, "Justin, I didn't
know I was embarrassing you. I thought you liked the way I dress?"
"Well I don't," I tell her. I figure this is my one chance and I better
make the most of it. Besides I can feel her seducing public opinion over
to her side.
"Why do you think Justin likes the way you dress, Felicia?" Maury
questions.
"Well, he did pick out this outfit for me to wear today. Didn't you
Justin?"
Maury quickly asks, "Is that true? Did you pick those clothes out for
your mother to wear?"
"Yeah, but...," I futilely try and defend myself.
"And he didn't know we were coming on this show. I did ask him to pick
out something for me to wear. I figured it would be like an experiment.
I let him dress me. So now we know how he likes to see his mommy dressed.
And it's like this," she stands and flirtatiously does a pirouette to
allow the audience to see the boots, fishnets, and miniskirt.
I feel dizzy. The audience is definitely turning. I feel unable to think
straight to defend myself. I was tricked, I know I was, but I can't think
it through, let alone articulate it on national TV. My chance of a
lifetime to expose what my mother does to me is slipping through my
fingers.
"He even picked out the undies, didn't you Justie?" Felicia continued on.
Any other of the slutty mothers would have blown it right there by
stripping off her clothes and grinding around in their bra and panties,
but my mother is too clever for that. She's got the upper hand and she's
not going to blow it with a trailer-trash display of her underwear.
Maury, in rapid fire, asks me, "Is that true?" and then turns to my mother
and asks what the audience now is dying to know, "And what exactly did he
choose for you to wear underneath?"
I have my head in my hands and as I nod yes. "Yeah, I picked them out,
but..."
Naturally my mother interrupts after my confession, but before the
explaination. She says, "You can see the black fishnet stockings he
wanted me to wear, and they are held up by a black garter belt. And you
should have seen Justin this morning as he skipped out of my bedroom to
present me with the most darling matching lemon yellow bra and panties -
imported silk from Thailand. My Justin may be a bit of a sissy - as you
may have already concluded by the velvet suit he's wearing, but he
certainly has refined tastes in panties."
I was hoping she went too far and the audience would backlash. But they
are stunned. Even Maury is speechless, but he can smell good ratings so,
he's not about to waste the rest of the show on a bunch of make-overs for
the mothers. That's been done dozens of times, and what he's got going
between my mother and me is pure ratings gold. He breaks for a
commercial. When he's off camera, he whispers to my mother, "Dynamite.
Keep it up. Bury the little sissy."
All the other mothers and children are cleared from the stage to make room
for the main event. I feel like the sacrificial lamb. I'm use to being
humiliated, but not on national TV. I want to make a run for it - to just
walk off, but I'm paralyzed. I literally can't move.
Maury's on again, "We're back, and although we promised you make-overs for
the mothers, that'll have to wait for another show. What we have here is
too compelling. Young Justin here came on the show, like the other
children, complaining he is embarrassed by the way his mother, Felicia,
dresses. But, we've since discovered there is something else going on
here. An Oedipal fascination with mommy the model. Justin admitted he
picked out ... how should I put it ... the sexy outfit his mother is wearing."
Maury turns to me, "Justin, isn't it hypocritical of you to criticize your
mother for dressing too sexy, while you encourage it by choosing revealing
outfits for her to wear?"
I am trying to gather my thoughts, when a few men in the audience start
chanting, "Take it off. Take it off."
The Jerry Springer element has evidently invaded Maury's show, and they
aren't content with a description of my mother's unmentionables.
My mother, pulls off some more PR genius. She comes to my defense (of
course, she does so in a way that shames me even more). "Justin is a very
sensitive child."
Maury almost cuts her off, fearing she's going to let me off the hook, but
his TV instincts allow her to continue.
Felicia: "My boy can't help himself. He's always been fascinated with
mommy's silky undies, miniskirts, and other sexy clothes. I'm a model and
I come home from work, and he wants to know all about what I've worn.
It's hard to keep him out of my lingerie drawer. He's always trying to
sneak peeks of mommy changing. What's a mother to do?"
Maury chimes in, "What about it audience. What should she do?"
Maury rushes up into the audience and a woman speaks up, "You have got to
get some control. Discipline him. I'd spank his BE-hind."
"I'm concerned he's getting too old to be spanked over his mother's lap,
but I do still do it. Does that do any good, Justin?" Felicia asks me.
I start to cry. My mother knows she could lose the audience's sympathy to
my tears. It could look like she's bullying me. So she goes right on the
attack, "Oh stop it Justin. We are not going to fall for the 'poor me'
routine. You are a big boy, and you need to speak up and explain yourself
to these people. They deserve that much. They are not going to be taken
in by your tears."
A man in studio audience says, "He's nothing but a big sissy."
A woman says, "I think he should get the make-over. Dress the little
sissy in an outfit like yours."
The audience loves that suggestion, but Maury knows the line between
ratings and abuse. He tries to regain control by asking me, "Justin, you
obviously like women's clothes. Is it seeing your mother in the sexy
outfits, or do you want to wear them? Which is it? I'm just trying to
understand this whole thing."
I'm finally given breathing room to answer a question, although it's
framed along the lines of 'Do you enjoying beating your wife?' How's a
guy suppose to answer that one?
I say, "I don't know. Look at her. She's too sexy to be a mother. I ...."
"That's all the time we have," Maury ends the show.
I sulk out of there and never want to leave the house again. For years
afterwards, I am approached on the street by strangers wanting to know if
I'm that sissy who was on Oprah (They somehow remember me, but think it
was Oprah that I was on).
Kaylin
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