My arms ached as I dragged the last of my stuff over the threshold. Summer in New York City was in full bloom, and the sweat was never ending. From moment one of my move, I regretted not hiring professionals, but I was determined to not rely on anyone ever again. With one big huff, I dropped the last box on the floor, satisfied with my accomplishment.

"That's it," I bellowed. 

My ratty college t-shirt clung to my sticky body, practically snuffing the life out of me. It was one more miserable reminder of the horror that had become my life over the past month.

"Well, welcome home!" Mom beamed.

"Yay," I sarcastically said as I plopped down onto the couch, exhausted.

Mom sat close to me and attempted to give me a hug. I shrugged her off, not wanting to be touched.

"Come on, Jenny. Moving in with me isn't the worst thing in the world. At least you get to live in the city again," she reminded me.

She wasn't wrong. Soon after getting married, my now ex-husband insisted on taking a job in the boondocks, hoping it would advance his career. However, after discovering that he had been cheating on me with one of his young associates, I relocated back to New York City.

At twenty-eight, I was going to be forced to restart my life. Most of my friends had moved out of the city and into their new lives in the suburbs. The few friends I had left in the city were either busy with their careers or their noses were too full of white powder for my taste. I sank deeper into the couch, ready to give up. 

Mom sensed my unease, but knew pushing the issue wouldn't help. She let me be. I lay on the couch, squirming around in my soaked shirt. It was unbearably hot out, and the thin fabric did nothing to cool me off. With every passing moment, my top felt more confining. I ripped it off, not caring if Mom would reenter the room. My damp bra soon joined my shirt at the base of the couch. My whole body shook with anger as I tried to come to terms with the new reality of my life. 

"I know it's been eighteen years since you lived here, but we wear clothes in this house," Mom chuckled, as she walked back into the room a little while later. 

"Sorry. The shirt was so sweaty and I… Sorry," I apologized while putting my clammy shirt back on.

"Give it time. I've been there. I know it's hard, but you'll find yourself again," Mom declared. 

I sighed, knowing my mother was right. Yet as days became months, I still felt nowhere. I was lost. More and more, I retreated into home life. Mom didn't seem to mind. It had been a long time since I spent any real time with Mom, and it was nice to finally get to know her as an adult. The problem was that Mom was rarely home. She was almost always out with friends. Mom was full of life in a way I never saw growing up. 

The woman my mother was when she was with my father was a shadow of the woman who stood before me now. Yet, I still couldn't bring myself to believe that I had a life ahead of me. It didn't help that another week had passed, and the only plans I had this weekend were to numb myself with some reality TV. 

Mom was a different story altogether. By the time I got home, she was already gone. I wasn't shocked that Mom was going out again, but I was lonely. Here I was on a Friday night, exhausted and watching TV by myself while Mom was with friends, doing God knows what. The truth was that I was too emotionally drained to do much of anything. I was so wiped that I fell asleep on the couch without meaning to. That was until Mom's entrance woke me up.

The clickety clack of Mom's heels reverberated throughout the living room as she stammered in. Lying on the couch, I feigned being asleep, not wanting to deal with my drunk mother. The thud of Mom kicking her shoes across the room made me sigh with relief, hoping that she would head to bed and I would be able to doze off again. However, a new noise flitted through my ears. It was an unfamiliar squeaking and snapping that I couldn't quite parse. Yet, with every movement, the sound echoed throughout the room. I didn't know why then, but the sound sent a shiver down my spine and straight to my crotch. I felt ridiculous that a noise could have that kind of effect on me. Nonetheless, the effect was very real. 

It had been almost a year since I had been intimate with anyone, and my sex drive had plummeted. However, this unfamiliar sound broke a dam, unleashing a flood of sexual energy. 

I slitted my eyes open, not wanting Mom to know I was awake. What I saw Mom wearing shocked me. There she was leaning against the kitchen counter, sipping a glass of water, wearing the tightest and shortest latex dress I had ever seen. My mother, at fifty-two years old, was dressed like a harlot on the prowl, looking to get fucked. I couldn't believe it. Despite not having a perfect view of her, I could tell she looked hot. Mom was pulling it off. While I knew she had gone out with some friends, I couldn't begin to imagine where she would wear such an outfit. Before I knew it, Mom slithered to her room, and I was left there trying to process this new revelation.

I tossed and turned on the couch, unable to fall back to sleep. My mind raced, incapable of grasping what I just witnessed. However, my body knew exactly how it felt about Mom's dress. My pussy buzzed with excitement. I needed to cum in a way I hadn't felt since I discovered my ex's transgressions. Despite being in the living room, I gave in to my urges.

My fingers slithered over my chest. Even with my shirt in the way, I could easily feel my hardening nipples poking through. They ached in a way that screamed for relief. I splayed my hand, allowing the hardened buds to slip between two fingers before clasping my fingers closed. 

"Fuck," I quietly groaned. 

I needed more. I pinched my nipples harder, pulling at them, desperate to feel something. A mix of pleasure and pain rippled through me. The snapping of Mom's dress replayed over and over in my head, making me hornier and hornier. I trailed my right hand down my stomach to the heart of my desire. 

Shoving my hand past my waistband, I felt the heat burning from my crotch. I touched my wet folds, shocked by how slippery they were. I couldn't remember the last time I explored myself, and feeling my wetness flooded me with images of past lovers. I pushed those thoughts aside and refocused my attention on Mom's latex dress. 

I circled my clit, letting the fever build. With each flick, electricity fired through my limbs, making me shudder with delight. My movements became more and more frenetic. I grew frustrated by the restrictions my pants provided, but I was too frightened to pull them down on the off chance Mom returned to the living room. The tips of my fingers grazed my clit over and over again, rubbing it with a speed I didn't know possible. With my other hand, I groped my chest, twisting my sensitive right nipple. My chest rose and fell as my breath became quick and short. Sweat beaded on my brow, while my muscles grew tight. I could feel my orgasm approaching, yet I wasn't ready to let go. I pictured myself in Mom's tight dress. The thought of myself squirming into the shiny latex, as it molded to my hot skin, was just too much.

My body jerked, while my nerves shot fire into every inch of me. I did my best to suppress my moans, but I was certain Mom would be able to hear me if she were still awake. Exhausted by my orgasm, I curled into a ball, and quickly fell back to sleep. 

"Morning, sleepy head," Mom hollered as she poured herself a fresh cup of coffee. 

"Hi," I groaned, barely awake. 

"You must have been pretty tired to pass out on the couch," she observed. 

"It was a long day at work," I lied. "You get home late?" I asked, feigning ignorance. 

"Not too bad. I saw you on the couch, but you looked too cute to move," Mom said. 

"Thanks, I guess," I responded, uncertain what to say. 

"Well, I'm off to meet some friends for a workout and brunch. I'll be back later," Mom told me. 

The moment the door closed, I bolted to Mom's room. Even though I was still half asleep, I was desperate to see if I could find her latex dress. I searched everywhere but found nothing. I almost gave up, yet this voice in my head told me to keep searching. 

The hiss of the heater pumping hot air acted as background noise to my pursuit. Mom's room was unbelievably hot, and my hair soon became damp. I flung my hair out of my face, but without a hair tie, sweat-soaked strands clung to my forehead. My shirt wasn't fairing any better. I clawed it off, allowing the sweat to drip down my heaving breasts. Practically possessed, I moved frantically through the room in an almost manic fashion. I didn't know why, but I needed to find that dress.

In a fit of exhaustion, I collapsed to the floor. 

"Where could it be?" I muttered. 

That was when it hit me. I rushed down the hall and opened the linen closet. A small chest sat behind a stack of folded towels. I threw them to the side and yanked the chest forward. If anyone saw me in that moment, I would have looked crazed. I didn't care. With all the secrets my husband kept from me, I needed to know about this hidden part of Mom's life. 

What I found when I opened the chest shocked me to my core. It wasn't just a latex dress. There was a wide assortment of latex outfits: catsuits, bodysuits, long gloves, thigh highs, a collar and chain, and even a thong/strap-on set. It was clear there was so much more to my mother than I had ever imagined. Yet, despite this new revelation, I wasn't mad at Mom. If anything, I was proud of her for still having a sex life. However, there was something strange about finding this secret trove of sexual outfits. 

I rummaged through the box, savoring the latex outfits' smooth rubbery texture. I became enamored. Not knowing when I would get another chance, I pulled Mom's dress out of the box and walked back into her room. I ran my hands over the surface of the dress, pressing it against my skin. My heart fluttering told me I needed to take the next step and wear this thing.

The dress was tiny, and I had no idea how I was going to get this thing on. Stripping bare, I sat on the edge of the bed and wiggled my ass back and forth, while trying to tug the dress gently up my body. With every tug, the latex snapped and crackled. It almost sounded like I was rolling around in a pile of leaves, yet there was something sensual about the way the latex reverberated through my body that made me tingle down below. I was practically out of breath and drenched to the bone by the time I finally got the dress on.

"There must be an easier way to get this dumb thing on I," huffed. 

I could feel the latex stretching and moving across my skin, almost as if it were alive. The longer I wore the dress, the more I felt myself morphing into a different person. I felt empowered in a way I hadn't in years, yet something was off. The latex was matte and didn't shine the way it did on Mom. I thought maybe I was misremembering how it looked on my mother, after all, the room was poorly lit. That was when I recalled seeing a bottle labeled polish at the base of the chest. 

I grabbed the bottle of latex polish and began to carefully coat the dress. The polish had a unique scent that was intoxicating. I took my time, ensuring that every inch of the latex was covered with the glossy liquid. 

With every brush, the dress came to life. I took my time rubbing the dress down, savoring the feeling of the latex being pressed into my skin. While I had noticed the heat before, suddenly being draped in latex made me sweat in a way I didn't know was possible. Yet, this time I didn't mind. In fact, I savored it. Even once the dress was fully shined, I ran my hands over my body, unable to get over how amazing the latex felt against my perspiring skin. I needed to feel more! 

I hopped onto Mom's bed and just rolled around. I knew I was being ridiculous, but the sensation was almost too much for me, and I worried that this would be my only chance to experience this. I cackled loudly, reveling in the freedom I was feeling. For the first time since my divorce, I finally felt alive. It wasn't just the dress. There was something about taking a chance and being a bit naughty that reminded me of what I had long lost in my marriage. I had given so much of myself over to Michael that I had completely forgotten how to let loose and be silly. 

Eventually, I tired myself out. Between the sweltering heat and the tight latex cinching my chest, I was breathless. I lay back onto Mom's pillow and just stared at the ceiling. The longer I lay there, the more I melded with the latex. I had been so focused on the sound the latex was making that I never fully appreciated the way I felt in the outfit. The dress and I felt like one in a way that no other clothes had fit me before. I wasn't just wearing the dress; the dress and I felt merged. It was as if I was wearing a second skin. 

My hands drifted down the front of the dress, savoring its sleekness. The outer layer was slightly cold to the touch, a stark contrast to the oven burning me alive beneath the surface. I rubbed my fingers over the surface, gliding them along the contours of the dress. I pressed hard on the latex, letting the heat radiate up from me, and bringing it to the top layer. 

I was cocooned in this rubber, being reborn with every passing second. That was when the growing need in my loins took over. I was sex reincarnate, and my new form needed to be let out. My fingers glided over the dress before slipping between my legs. I took my time teasing my sweaty thighs, swirling my fingers around the sensitive skin, before making my way to my wet, swollen folds. There was no time to play around. I lubed my fingers up with my juices before easily plunging them into my dripping hole. With every passing second, I felt my control slipping. I gave in and just focused on the sensations. Images flitted through my mind. Sexual fantasies I never allowed myself to imagine before. Yet, there was one that kept returning. 

With each dip on my fingers, my palm pressed against my engorged clit, and with each pass, a snapshot of my mother in her latex dress filled my thoughts. No matter how much I tried, I couldn't get the image of Mom in this dress out of my mind. I knew I should stop myself and abandon what I was doing, but between the dress and the way my fingers were making me feel, I couldn't stop. 

As my finger ferociously pumped in and out, my latex-covered arms rubbed against the dress. The loud squeal combined with the sloshing noise of my wet pussy made the whole ordeal rather loud, but I didn't care. I was more turned on than I had been in years, and I needed to cum. The longer I went, the more I could feel the sweat building beneath the airtight fabric. My heart thumped as the fire inside me grew. I was on the verge of exploding when I suddenly sensed that I was being watched. 

Reluctantly, I opened my eyes and saw Mom leaning against the doorway. Her eyes were glued to me. 

"Mom!" I yelped. 

"I'm pretty sure I raised you to ask if you want to use someone else's things," Mom jeered. 

“I…I…I can explain," I stammered. 

"I'm pretty sure I could see what you were doing," she pushed back. 

Mom was unrelenting. I was horrified that I was caught, yet, being so close to cumming, I was also furious at my mother's intrusion. 

"Well, do you have something to say for yourself?" Mom asked. 

"I'm not a teenager anymore, mother," I shouted back. 

Mom stared at me and licked her lips before responding. 

"That is for certain," she giggled. 

There was a glint in her eye I had never seen before. I wanted to chalk it up to my lustful mind making something out of nothing, but the way she stood there unconsciously licking her lips like she was about to devour me told me that I wasn't imagining things.

"Well, why do you own all these latex outfits anyway?" I pushed back, putting the focus on her.

"Maybe take your fingers...