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Mom was cooking lunch. Her ass was a great view. I wanted to slap it hard. But for now, the best I can do is hug her. So I did it. She didn’t tell me to stop hugging this time.So I thought she was hesitant because of dad’s presence. Like last night I circled my fingers around her navel. “You did this last night too. I like it, keep doing it,” mom said. There was innocence in her way of speaking and in her face too. So I didn’t try anything dirty and kept doing it. Then I inserted my finger in her navel.“Why did you stop? Keep doing it. I don’t know why, but I love it,” she said“What is the small hole here?” I asked.“Don’t act like you don’t know. That’s my navel, everyone has it,” she said“Yeah, but it looks like yours is a bit different,” I said.“No, it’s not. You want to see it?” she asked“Yeah,” I said. She turned back and pulled her skirt down a bit and lifted her t-shirt just a little to show her navel. It wasn’t so deep, it was just perfect.“What? You see that?” she asked. Instead of appearing shocked, she whispered, "Anything." She re-iterated, "Anything you want, my good Sir." She took her pen, wrote my name in her finest script, and in the space where one would normally put the amount she wrote 'Anything' and then dated it and signed with a flourish. She ripped it from her book and handed it to me. "Absolutely anything," she re-stated. She smiled, and my legs went weak. I had to get a grip of myself. I put my left hand under the table and deliberately nipped my leg. I then folded the cheque up and put it in my waistcoat pocket for later. I wanted to hand it back immediately in exchange for a stroke of her chest. Just to ease those delicious breasts out from their captivity and put my face between them and kiss them and tease her pointy little .... In Harrods? That just wasn't cricket! I pinched my leg harder. I took the cheque back out of my pocket, sighed and handed it back, to a look of pleasant amazement. "Already?" she asked. I.
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