She went back to setting and decorating the table, bending forward in the process and pulling the material up around her ass. The fabric clung tightly to her bottom the whole time, showing off the perfect shape of it. Those exercises she did certainly payed off.
Fuck me, I thought. That's ridiculously hot...
She'd put a red table cloth over the table, then placed white plates and napkins, silver candlesticks and various other decorations on it. The table looked like it was set for a fancy date, with only the two of us attending.
Suddenly, the doorbell rang.
"I'll get it. Could you check on the turkey, Nick?" she asked.
Mom walked out into the hall and opened the door. Whoever it was sure didn't bring about any cries of happiness from Mom.
"Yes? And what do you want?" I heard her ask.
