"When the body of the stocking is complete, the weaver lays them on a flat bed, folds them lengthwise and sews them along the back of the stocking, creating a gorgeous seam as they go. Then voila! You have a fully-fashioned nylon stocking."

Hearing my Mom talk about nylons while looking and touching them on her legs was - inspiring. My cock was rock hard now. My little sex brain started to take over, emboldening me to ask a few more questions.

"What about the heel? And the toe? Are they special?"

"Oh yes. I'm so glad you asked! Your father never took an interest."

She bent down and pinched the heel of her nylons. I looked at them with interest.

"This dark brown part of the nylon that encloses my heel and toes is called the Reinforced Heel and Toe. The heel can be made in hundreds of different styles and patterns. See how the dark pattern rises steeply from the full width of my heel, then curves inward several inches up my calf, coming to a rounded peak?"

I nodded and then ran my fingers up and down her nylon heel.

"This pattern is called a 'Cuban Heel'. These are really sexy. Ooops, did I say that?"

"It's OK, Mom." Yeah, it was really OK.

"There are lots and lots of different patterns, from Manhattan Heel, Charleston Heel, Havana Heel. You get the idea. They all have sexy little designs and shapes that draw attention to the foot and lower calf. Combined with the back seam, they're very beautiful. Every nylon is a work of art."

I started caressing her leg with the palm of my hand. The feel of the nylon on my mother's leg was suddenly connected directly to my brain and down to my cock.

Which was so hard now it hurt.

"Mmmm, that's nice. I love having my legs touched. You like the feel of them too, don't you Danny?"

I nodded. I didn't want this lesson to end. I had to think of more questions. "But they're not like pantyhose, right?"

Mom laughed again. "Oh no! For fully-fashioned nylons, you need garters! Here, let me show you. A young man should know how this stuff works, right?"

Mom moved her bum forward on the couch so she could pull her skirt all the way up to her hips, exposing the tops of her nylons and the little straps attached to them.

"These are garters. See here? They hold my nylons in place. I'll take one apart so you can see."

My mouth was suddenly dry. I scanned the full length of her silky legs, completely exposed to me for the first time. They were so long, so lean, so shapely.

With her manicured fingers, Mom pulled apart one of the little clips fastened to her nylons. She held the strap of her garter for me to see.

"See this little rubber nodule? That goes on the inside of the stocking, like this. Then you push it out so you can see the outline in the stocking, almost like you're trying to push it through the nylon. This whole dark part at the top, see it's about four inches wide? That's called the welt. It's stronger to take the stress of the garters."

"See, you push the little rubber nodule as if you were trying to drive it right through the mesh, then you insert the outline of the nylon into this little metal track here on the garter. Then you slide it down, locking it in place. See how that works?"

I couldn't help but look at the full length of my mother's leg encased in the finest nylons. My boner was so hard now, it was literally throbbing.

"Here, Dan. You try."

I reached over and tried my best, but I fumbled it. My position was awkward and it didn't come naturally. I settled with placing my hands around her leg.

"It's easier when you're straight on, I guess," Mom said.

I slipped to the floor and knelt in front of her. My mother's gorgeous, long, lean legs were in front of me, her knees just below me, an inch or two from my chin. I reached up her thighs and taking the rubber nodule in my fingers, I slid it under the top of the welt. The backs of my fingers caressed my mother's inner thigh. I pushed the rubber up into the nylon until it made a distinct outline. With the other hand, I drew the little metal track over the nylon bump and slid it down to the end.

"Excellent!" Mom said. "Now you know how to dress a woman. Maybe you can dress me someday."

She said it with a little mirth in her voice. Maybe she was teasing me, but I think she meant it.

"Sure Mom, I'd love to."

The wet spot in her panties was growing. I was sure of it.

I began to caress her upper thigh with both hands. "I really love the feeling of your nylons, Mom. I never knew how nice they felt."

There was a long pause. I wondered if I had stepped over the line.

My mother took a deep breath. Her voice had turned just a little hoarse. "Maybe you should try them on."

Huh? Did she just say that?

"What? You mean me? You want me to try on your nylons?"

"Sure. Why not? I'll be fun."

This was crazy. I can't wear women's underthings. I can't. It would be effeminate. Weird.

Although.

The feeling of my mother's nylons on her legs was so sexy. The very fact I was feeling my mother's legs so intimately, my hands sliding across the slippery nylon, feeling her supple, smooth skin, the firm lean muscles of her calves.

The dampness of her pussy. The heart-pounding fantasy of her nylon-clad toes wriggling in my mouth. The erotic feeling in my hands of her delicate foot clad in skin-tight nylon.

Nylon was the trigger.

"But Mom, guys don't wear nylons. It's, it's..."

"Effeminate?"

"Well, yeah. Nylons are for girls - women I mean. I can't, I couldn't, I, I, gee Mom, are you sure?"

My stumbling made her laugh. Well, if you don't want to..."

Stop it Dan. Play along. No-one will find out.

"OK," I said quickly. "I'll do it."

Mom clapped her hands together. "This is going to be so much fun!" She took my hand and stood. "Come on. Into my closet we go!"

I'd never actually been in my mother's walk-in closet. It's a little sanctuary for her, I guess. I never wanted to intrude on that.

So when she opened the door and led me inside, I was awestruck.

The room was huge, for a closet I mean. About eight by ten, it was big enough for a small bedroom.

It was lined on one side with double racks of skirts, dresses, tops, and pants. On the other side was an open rack of maybe a hundred pairs of shoes. Some were clunky-heeled; there were a lot styled from the 1940's in Mom's style. Beside those was a large selection of very stylish-looking high heels, very modern. A lot of them were extremely high, with sharp pointed heels. Stilettos, I think they're called.

A large wooden chest stood in the corner, easily four feet long by three feet high. I looked at my mother. She smiled and nodded. I opened the lid cautiously.

The chest was filled almost to the brim with piles and piles of nylon stockings. There was no packaging, no apparent organization - just hundreds and hundreds, maybe a thousand random nylons and pantyhose of various shades, sheen, textures, and type.

I looked at my mother in askance.

"Those are all my castoffs," she said. "I've worn every one of those. They're such works of art; I can't bring myself to throw them out. Every now and then I pull an armload out and just - I just feel them on my body."

There was something about that gigantic trove of filmy nylons, every one of which had graced my mother's gorgeous legs for a day or much more, that tugged on my brain. It was so sexy, seeing them all there. When I buried my hand into that shimmery mass of silk and nylon, my dick immediately grew so hard it hurt.

She saw it.

"When did you get so big, young man?" I looked at Mom. Her eyes were shining and she was smiling. Somehow, that made me less embarrassed.

"This is pretty awesome, Mom," I said, closing the lid and looking around the closet. "You must have a lot of fun in here."

"Not as much as we're about to have. Come on, let's get some nylons on you. I want to see how you like them. I must confess. I've always wanted to have someone with whom to play dress up. Your father never would."

"Is that part of why he left us?"

"Your father found someone else. And to be truthful, I'm better off without him. We weren't compatible. Not in daily life, not sexually. It's OK, you should hear this. He wasn't happy with me. He couldn't - let's say he couldn't keep up. And he hated everything that I truly adore. Like when he sucked on my nylon toes that night. You loved that, right? Me too! But he hated doing that."

"I saw your reaction to my nylon chest. It's OK, I think it's only natural. But his reaction was - indifference. It meant nothing to him. To him, it took up space and represented thousands of dollars wasted on nylons."

"So when I see you immediately wanting to touch it, to put your hand in there, seeing how it affected you so strongly," she looked pointedly at the bulge in my pants, "I knew. You're different. You're not like your father at all."

"You're someone I can have some fun with," she said brightly. "So come on my love. Let's play dress up. I'll start. Do you want to see what the good professor wears in front of her Calculus class?"

"But I do see. I was there. It's what you're wearing right now."

Mom laughed. "Yes and no. What you don't know is what I'm wearing underneath."

Holy fuck.

Mom smiled at my open mouth. "It's time you learned about women's underthings. The right way. From a woman who knows."

Mom sat on the nylon chest and kicked off her clunky shoes. She ran her finger along the stilettos in her collection. Hesitating, she turned to me. "Danny, you pick a pair for me."

In front of me were at least thirty pairs of the sexiest, most beautiful women's footwear I've ever seen. No college girls are wearing these little sex objects. Glossy finishes as deep as car paint, long narrow stilettos coming to a near point at the floor, some four inches, many even five inches high. Long pointed toes, soles molded in impossible curves to fit the slender arch of my mother's sexy feet. Shiny black ones, scarlet ones, bubble gum pink, navy, red metal flake, bubble bee yellow, forest green. Open toe, closed toe, rounded toe, strap, no straps, platform, thin soles. She had it all.

I loved knowing my mother's gorgeous nylon feet were going inside the shoes I choose.

I picked up a black patent leather pair with red bottoms and five-inch heels. Silently, I handed them to her.

"Well," Mom said with a small smile. "You've got a real eye Danny. You've picked a pair of sex on wheels. These are Christian Louboutin "So Kates". Five-inch stiletto heel, made in Italy with the finest calfskin leather, lovely, pointed toe, and a finish so perfect I could do my makeup in them. Very nice choice. Now sit down in that chair and let me do my thing."

She took them from me and crossed her legs, slipping one shoe onto the upper leg. She recrossed her legs the other way and put on the other shoe. Again, the swish of my mother's nylons addled my brain and made my dick hurt even more.

When Mom stood, she towered over me by two or three inches. The Louboutin's had pushed her well north of six feet. I could immediately see the muscles in her calves flex out, defined and shapely in a way I hadn't before noticed.

Still, they did look a bit out of place with her 1940's mid-calf slim skirt and long-sleeve jacket. Her messy bun and librarian spectacles added to the confusion of her style.

She could see it in my gaze. "You're right. These shoes definitely are NOT from the forties. Now have a seat."

I sat in the one chair in the closet. Mom unbuttoned her jacket, dropped her hands to her hips, and let the garment fall to the floor. Beneath was a tight white blouse tucked into the tiny waistband of her skirt. The second and third buttons strained to the breaking point to contain her very full bosom.

I was struck by the curves of her body, from the full round hips to the tiny wasp-like waist, and back to the generous swell of her breasts.

Mom unbuttoned the cuffs of her blouse, then moved to the front buttons. When these were undone, she released the clasp of her skirt and lowered a hidden zipper at her left hip.

I was completely transfixed as my mother went through a little strip tease right in front of me. She showed not a hint of self-consciousness or embarrassment.

With everything released, she gave her skirt a little push down from her waist while at once opening the front of her blouse. The skirt and blouse fell of her body simultaneously, leaving her standing there.

...Holy Fuck.

Seeing my reaction, Mom reached up and extracted a few clasps from her hair and tossed her mousy spectacles onto the little pile of clothes on the floor. Her jet-black hair cascaded in massive curls around her breasts and to her waist.

She wore glossy fully-fashioned nylon stockings fastened with four garters per leg to a skin-tight red and black silk corset, cut so deep the triangle of skin below her breasts came to a point at her navel. Her breasts strained against a series of ribbons and clasps barely preventing the front of her tiny corset from bursting apart. Her breasts massively overflowed the top of the corset, her nipples just hidden below its rim. Without her specs, her green eyes shone like emeralds in the moonlight, captivating me utterly. Her lips were full and glossy (how had I missed that!), her cheeks hollow.

In the five-inch spikes, her legs were crazy long and spectacular. Her fully fashioned stockings glowed in the LED light of the closet. A small triangular space at the top of her legs framed the mound of her swollen sex, clad in light silk panties, a slight discoloration radiating outward from the growing dampness of her pussy.

My mother was the stuff of wet dreams and lingerie ads, and my boner sprang hard in my pants as I struggled to hide my stunned reaction to the incendiary appearance of my mother before me.

"You like?" she said simply, as if my reaction did not betray the sheer unmistakably of my feelings.

"I, I, I don't know what to say, Mom. You're - you may be the hottest thing I've ever seen in the whole world. I don't know Mom, I don't know. I'm, I'm..." I was babbling like a horny idiot. Suddenly I was so nervous in front of my mother.

"So you like," she said, smiling.

"I never knew. Mom, you're a total sexpot. I never knew. I never knew. You're, you're, I mean holy fuck!"

What I really didn't know was 'how the fuck could my father leave this stunning, sexy creature standing before me?'

"There's a lot about me you don't know, Danny. A very great deal."

Mom stepped towards me. I was still sitting on the chair. She bent at the waist and held my face in her hands. She leaned in with her fat, glossy lips and kissed my cheek. The incredible swell of her magnificent cleavage hung before me. Beyond her breasts were her long lean thighs encased in pure European luxury nylons. I was beginning to feel faint. I longed to grab my iron rod and rub one out, but obviously I couldn't do any such thing.

I don't know if she was trying to tease me, to make fun of my reaction, or whether she was flattered at the size of my boner clearly inspired by her form, or if she just didn't care. But I was not prepared for what she did next.

My mother placed one stiletto shoe on the chair between my legs. She pushed the point just under my balls so the long heel had room to rest on the edge of the chair. Her thigh was now parallel with the floor and her knee was inches from my mouth. Beyond her knee and along her thigh, her pussy pulsed and seeped inside her soaking panties.

No question: my mother was horny.

With my raging hard-on and the sexiest woman I'd ever laid eyes on here before me in fetish wear, my little sex brain wondered: what can I do about this?

Call me evil. Call me a terrible son. Call me just plain perverted.

But at that moment, all I could think of was: I wanted desperately to fuck my mother.

Did she feel the same? If I risk making a move, what if she's horrified? Men have disappointed her all her life. My father could not accept her sexuality. I don't know the background of that story, but when I look at the incredible woman before me, all I can think of is: what a loser he was to leave her.

I decided to park my longing for my mother's body until the right moment. In the meantime, I was going to play along with every sexy little game she had in mind.

"Now that you know how a woman dresses under all those business suits and daytime wear Danny, what do you think?"

Every word from here on had to play a part in my getting to slide my cock inside my mother's glorious pussy. "I think, you look absolutely delicious."

She laughed.

Oh man. What an awful line. I was truly fucking this up. I had no idea what I...