After that night I pretty much knew when I could ask to wear her clothes. About once a week seemed to satisfy her. It drove me to near madness. I jerked off constantly, filling every scrap of cloth with cum, desperately alert for her next moment of naked availability.
About once a week, mother would strip in front of me and dress me in her clothes. Then she would proceed to act like a little girl who desperately needed love and attention from her mommy.
My own role in these games were so anti-altruistic, they were killing me. I lost no end of sleep frantic to put my hands on her in less than a loving way. It's fair to say I wracked my adolescent brains to discover a way past her innocent sweetness. At the same time, I was gradually responding to her overt show of affection during these events. I had begun to love my mommy/daughter, and sometimes I wondered if I were the little girl playing for attention from my nakedly erotic mother. I doubt the clothes had much effect on my untested masculinity, but our scenarios would have confused Hercules. When Mother acted like a little girl, I knew the feelings of a protective father. When she looked into my eyes and called me, "Mommy", I had to look twice to make sure I hadn't grown breasts overnight.