As I worked the nylon stocking down her calf, I leaned in and kissed her bare knee.

My mother made little cooing sounds above me. "Mmmm. That's it," she said. "Now you're getting it."

By the time I'd pulled my mother's other nylon off her leg, my dick was absolutely throbbing. Mom's pussy was dripping wet. Her chest had begun to heave. She was staring at the huge bulge in my pants.

My mother is horny. My gorgeous, sexy, stunning mother is horny as hell and I'm the only one here.

"Ok Danny," she was breathing hard. "Put on my nylons. Like I showed you. That's a good boy."

If I was right, Mom would see me in her nylons and be so horny that she'd be the one to come on to me. I scrambled to pull on my mother's nylons so we could get down to the business of serious fucking. At least that was my sexy brain's plan.

After I had bunched up the nylon stockings in my hands, I started to pull them slowly up my leg. But I didn't really know what I was doing.

"Hold on, Danny. You have to get the seam just right. It has to be straight. Here, let me show you."

She dropped down to the floor, her knees bent and her bum resting on the heels of her stilettos. She grabbed the stocking, bunched around my ankle, and gently pulled it up my calf.

"See how I keep the seam nice and straight, right from the beginning? You have to start right; once the nylons are up your legs, it's really, really hard to get them straight." I loved being part of Mom's girl talk. I bet very few men have ever had such a demonstration.

I repeated the process on the other foot. This time I was able to pull the nylon up to my knee and keep the seam fairly straight and true. She smiled and patted my thigh. "Nice," she said simply.

Getting the nylons up the rest of the way was easy. I pulled them up my thigh to the very top. Even though at 5' 11" I'm a couple of inches taller than my Mom, her legs were longer than mine. The nylons extended right to the very top of my legs, with a little bit of material to spare.

My dick throbbed. Mom helped me fasten all the little garters around my legs. A couple of times her knuckles brushed my twitching shaft. She smiled at that but said nothing. Except that she licked her lips.

Twice.

When I was all fastened in, she had me sit back on the chair. "OK, Danny, how does that feel? Are you OK? Do you like it?"

They felt constricting. A little odd, I guess. "It's fine Mom. Yes, I like it I guess."

A cloud of disappointment swept over her face. "You guess? So, this is not your fetish, is it? You could take it or leave it?"

Shit. I needed to be one hundred percent in sync with her if we were going to step over that line of having sex. "No, I love them. Really."

"Really? Let's see. Cross your legs. Swish them together. Get a really good feel for them. They may surprise you."

My mother's nylons were still warm from her skin; the feet were still a little damp from her sweat; the welts wet from her moisture. They bathed me in her sexy pheromones, addling my brain and keeping my cock at full hardness. My connection to her body through her nylons was visceral. My cock throbbed and bounced.

I think she understood. "Put your hands on your thighs. Tell me what you feel."

When I slid my fingers around the skin-nylon, I was shocked. I had expected my touch to be muted. I expected the touch sensitivity on my legs would be vastly reduced due to the nylon material between my fingers and my skin.

Was I ever wrong! Somehow the nylon magnified the touch of my fingers, sending tiny electric impulses up and down my legs and straight to my dick. I couldn't get enough of the feeling of my hands on my legs, and the more I caressed them, the hornier I became.

"Oooo, I see you like that," said Mom. "Now cross your legs. Go on, cross them a few times for me."

As soon as I crossed my legs, the swish of the nylons attacked my brain, adding to the sensation of the slippery, feminine nylon-over-nylon contact between my legs. It was absolutely electric, sex on sex, like soft feminine fingers encircling my brain and squeezing it to horny, mindless mush. I uncrossed and recrossed, uncrossed and recrossed. Holy fuck, holy fuck, it was sexy and sensuous and oh-so beautiful.

Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck. I think she designed this as a test. I think I failed.

I came hard, my cum filling my underwear and spreading like a flood, spurting uncontrollably from my cock and dripping down my crotch and onto the floor. Unrequited and ruined, my orgasm was terrible in so many ways: it wasn't satisfying, and far more importantly: I had just proven to my sexy mother that I could not possibly even begin to satisfy her obvious hunger for cock.

Ashamed, I looked up into my mother's face. She wasn't disgusted. That was good. She was more...thoughtful.

"OK," she said at last. "That was interesting. On the positive side, you clearly love wearing nylons. Your body's reaction was unmistakable. So that's encouraging."

"On the other hand, you can't control yourself, can you?"

There was nothing to say to that. She thought some more. Meanwhile, I stripped off my mother's nylons.

"Here's what we're going to do," she said. "I knew I couldn't make you love my nylons. But as it happens, you do. Clearly! So that's built-in. That's the most important thing."

"I have a very important question for you, Danny. I want you to think carefully before you answer. I want you to be completely truthful with me. Can you do that?"

Humiliated as I was about cumming in front of my mother, I had to make it up to her somehow. If that meant answering her questions, then so be it.

"OK, Mom. Shoot. What do you want to know?"

"Excellent. Now, this is important. When you masturbate, what's your goal?"

What a question. "Uhh. I don't know how to answer that one."

"OK. Let's try this: which do you enjoy more - getting yourself to the brink of orgasm, or actually cumming?"

It was surreal to me that I was having this conversation with my mother. The answer to my mother's riddle seemed obvious.

"Well, cumming of course. That's why someone masturbates. Right?"

"That's why you masturbate Danny. Your only goal is to get that ultimate feeling of joy and ecstasy while your big fat cock is spasming and spurting its milky load into whatever it is you jam it into."

Well, yeah.

"What if I told you there could be a different goal. A better goal. What if I told you that when you do that with a woman, it's the biggest turnoff you can give her. You're just plowing into your girl, maybe trying desperately to last as long as you can because you think that will please her, but all along your dick is completely out of control. You're one careless thrust away from cumming inside her and she doesn't get a blessed thing out of the whole experience. Do you understand that?"

I nodded. It did make sense. But of course, I really don't know what powers a woman in sex. I have no idea how a woman orgasms. I just assumed they get off on huge, hard, thrusting cock. And the bigger the cock, and the longer it can last, the more joy she gets.

Right?

"Danny, what if I told you that, for a woman, if you can learn to love her body more than you love your own cock, if your number one priority is to extract as much pleasure from her body as she can possibly endure before you get your just reward, before you even enter her, if you can do that, you will have women lined up down the block and around the corner."

"Because, my lovely son, women talk. The married ones, the good ones, will pass you around, sharing you like a sexy pair of shoes. The bad ones will hold on to you like gold and give you everything they can possibly give. They will strive desperately to please you to the full extent of their ability, to entice you to keep coming back to their bed again and again and again."

"Wow, Mom. That sounds amazing. How do I do that?"

"You have to change completely how you think about sex, orgasms, and women. You have to take an entirely different attitude about women's bodies, what they need and what they desperately want. You have to learn all you can about a woman's body, where she loves stimulation, how she responds, what she likes, what drives her insane with lust."

She paused to get my full attention. "Do you think you can do that?"

"I don't know, Mom. How do I learn all that?"

"First, I need to know something. How many times a week do you masturbate?"

Fuck. I can't believe I'm having this conversation with my own mother. She's really boring in. "Gee, I don't know Mom. Is it important?"

"It's important to me. How many times?"

I couldn't figure out why such a thing would be so important to my mother. But anyway, what the hell. "OK, Mom. It's kinda weird talking about this. Once a day?"

"Really?"

She didn't believe me. I didn't know what answer she was looking for. Of cours,e it wasn't the truth. Not by a mile. "OK," I said, "twice. twice a day."

"Well, you're closer. Now be honest. One more try. If I don't get the truth, this whole line of conversation is over and I'll walk away as if this afternoon never happened. So tell me honestly: how many times a day do you masturbate?"

Fuck. There was no point in hiding it anymore. Now she'll know I'm some kind of pervert. Better come clean. "All right, Mom. You win. Three times on weekdays. More on weekends. I can't get enough. Sometimes I even jerk off in the bathroom at school. I do that a lot, actually."

"Excellent," Mom said. "Now that's something I can work with."

I didn't see that coming. A very cryptic comment. "Does that mean you'll teach me about women? About sex and women?"

"Luckily, your mother is a woman. In case you hadn't noticed. And, I'm a professor. I teach for a living, remember?"

I stared at her, not believing my ears. "You'd teach me how to be a great lover?"

"And much, much more. But you have to do what I say, when I say it. Nothing more, nothing less. Exactly. Do you understand?"

This was life-changing. The sexiest woman I know, my mother, is offering to be my sex teacher. "I understand, Mom. I want to do this."

"Good. We'll start tomorrow night."

"I can't wait, Mom. I can't wait."

"Me too. And Dan?"

"Yes?"

"From now on, call me Anna."

Final note: We did make love to each other. With Anna's coaching, she taught me to appreciate nylons for what they bring into love-making. The look, the feel, and that unmistakable swish sound.