Sealed with a sixty-nine

The clothes release their embrace, and the outfit bends over in front of you. Your dick perks as you watch the denim tighten. The bouncy ass flexes, and one of the sweater sleeves reaches back. The glove gives a little double slap on the ass, and your mom's jeans simply wiggle at you.

You run your hand over the tight denim, squeezing a massive ass cheek as your dick responds. The jeans hop back a little, and you find yourself reaching for the waist, pulling on a belt loop and drawing the outfit even closer. You rest your cock between the denim cheeks, and suddenly the sweater arches.

The jeans are still bent at the hip, but now the tight red sweater is arcing back toward you. You manage to pull your hand into a front jean pocket. As you ride your plump dick against mommy's magic outfit, it swells with pressure and buckles forward. Humping the outfit, you find yourself falling and grab onto the nearest thing you see--the magically distended collar at the back of the sweater's neck.

Only, when you manage to grab it, something happens. The inflated legs of the jeans beneath you fall forward too, becoming parallel with the floor--but they gain altitude when they do so. You gasp a little when you expect to hit the ground, but instead, you're brought face to face with your own gaze in a full-length mirror.

You're hovering...with most of your weight poised on your hard cock--nestled between basketball-sized denim ass cheeks. The sweater's sleeves reach back and wrap around your thighs. The sleeves lose their emulated joints, stretching and constricting around you like angora pythons. The gloves pull free of the sleeve ends and fly up to your chest, massaging you.

The hovering outfit carries you across the room, pointing you at mom's closet. One of the isotoner gloves playfully tweaked your nipple as the other opened the closet doors--one, then the other. You moan as you start bucking your body against the suspended outfit--broken by this impossible magic visiting you again.

You didn't want it to leave for another week. No. No...you needed it. You needed...

"Mommy's feet..." You whimper into the darkness of the closet. You're a little embarrassed at your own outburst--even given your audience. "Mom-my's-stock-ings-and-mom-my's-shoes," you say with the rhythm of your humping--itself tuned to the bounces of the magically-inflated denim booty.

Something emerges. You aren't disappointed as a ghostly pair of stockings hovers out of the darkness, feet first. The delicate translucent feet extend their toes, and you watch as the legs hover right up to your face. When the haunted nylon feet unflex again, their arches are right over your nose and mouth, forcing you to inhale through them.

You can immediately tell that they're worn. The scent of a day’s sweat and the absolute naughtiness of your actions are both focal points of the thoughts swirling through your head. When one foot thrusts its nylon toes between your lips, the soft prodding--the gentle, coaxing domination--made your dick even harder.

“Mommy’s feet…” You moan, licking and sniffing the animated pantyhose--imagining another pair giving you a footjob. “Holy fuck--you know how many times I jerked off in front of those gloves?” You ask aloud, grabbing the jeans and squeezing their inflated ass. “How many times I looked at mom’s black kitten heels, wondering if you were ever going to make them mess with me again?” A nylon foot seemed to massage your cheek in sympathy as you rode the magic clothes harder and harder--feeling your own body getting ready to come.

“Don’t leave me alone again like that,” you mutter between licks. “Not for a whole week.” You look down at your red, swollen dick, watching as it leaks a drop of precum onto the back of the sweater. The torso seems to roll around, starting to face you as you rise off of the jeans on your own.

“H--holy shit…” You’re levitated without the support of any clothing, and you watch as a single isotoner glove reaches up and milks your suspended cock. Another single drop of pre-cum dribbles, and a milky white leather pointer finger dabs the seminal fluid onto itself.

You can’t believe what you see next. You watch in awe as the white glove paints a glowing rectangle onto the air itself, right before your eyes. The glowing perimeter fills with blinding light, and suddenly you can see a shadowy object appear, first in a sort of negative space--then in full phase as the burst of glowing light dissipates.

And now, held in front of you by the other isotoner glove--is the book. It’s so close that you could reach out and grab it. You’re staring at the book through the translucent feet still mashing gently against your face, but before you can even consider whether you truly want out of this situation, the book opens and begins flipping through pages.

The glove with a spot of your pre-cum on its fingertip? Well--now it’s apparently highlighting text with the same enchanted pointer. You can’t see the words and you can’t tell which spell heading the book is opened to, but now you’re hovering a little higher--and mommy’s outfit has turned to face you.

The isotoner that wasn’t busy with the magic tome had apparently retrieved a tube of dark red lipstick from your mother’s vanity. You watched beneath you as the white glove hovered above the angora collar, painting full red lips onto thin air.

Your mom’s outfit took a step closer, and you watched the ghostly lips curl into a smile as they approached your cock. When they opened and took you inside them, you could feel warm suction all around your dick as the emulated mouth began to blow you.

Your squirm in the air, feeling yourself slowly turn as the room reorients itself. The stockings pull away, and the isotoner with the glowing pointer finger points at you as the pages of the magic tome shimmer nearby. The disembodied lips travel up and down your shaft the whole time you feel yourself rotating, and before long you’re facing the crotch of your mom’s pair of bulging, tight jeans. The button pops open, and the zipper climbs down its track.

The panties you were made to worship before are presented to you again--the denim unwrapping them just enough to allow you access to the satiny black cameltoe. You feel yourself pushed forward, toward the cleft of the black satin. When the lips at your dick seem to ease up, drawing back to to a tease--you find yourself moaning for more attention. Needing it.

“Suck it...please suck my cock. Suck it off. Make me come--please, please make me come.” You felt your head shoved forward by invisible . Something about the glove and book--both glowing brighter now--told you that you should ask questions. Take a second to assess what was happening.

Something about the magical red lips around your cock, though--something about the scent of worn clothes and the impossibility of zero-gravity sex with magical, enchanted closets full of…

You couldn’t help it. You came. And somehow you knew--from the power swirling around the room and the of the cum ejecting itself from your rigid dick--that you’d given the enchantments far, far more power than they’d had before.

Something had happened in the week building up to their return, and you had no idea what it would mean for you, or anyone else in the house.