I started with mementos and framed photos, packing them carefully. The kids would one day appreciate their grandmother’s things. As night fell, I left to grab a bite to eat, then returned. Inside the living room side table I found Mom’s liqueur bottles. She preferred gin tonics in summer, a glass of sherry in colder weather. The bottle of Hiram Walker whiskey was almost full. I poured myself a glass and sipped it as I wandered around.
Her bedroom drew me back. I sat on her bed, turned the bedside lamp on, and let memories flow.
Discovering my mother’s panties had changed my sexual development. Like a drug, I’d returned to her laundry hamper to discover what pairs she’d worn. There was an illicit thrill at touching her panties. Every time I’d get aroused. The second time, I’d discovered panties that brought home my mother’s sexuality.
In the hamper, her bra was on top and I’d picked it up to study it. It was white with three metal hooks on the band. The cups had a metal wire underneath. But what caught my attention was the cups themselves. They were gossamer thin. In my mind, I pictured them on Mom and knew her breasts would be visible through the material. I wondered what Mom’s nipples were like. How big were her areolae? What color were they?
Now horny, I’d replace the bra and fished around in the hamper, finding and pulling out her matching panties. Gossamer thin and white, I held them. When I imagined Mom wearing them and pictured how her thick pubic bush would show through, my erection strained.
The sound of the front door opening made me panic. I shoved her panties in my jean pocket and ran out of her room. There, in my pocket, they were forgotten as dinner was made and we watched TV. It wasn’t until I went to bed that I rediscovered them. A moment of panic that I hadn’t returned them, that Mom would discover my panty theft, was shoved aside when I fondled them and became horny again. Touching them was like touching Mom, intimate, taboo.
I shoved them under my pillow, changed into pajamas, checked that Mom wasn’t around to see the tent of my erection, and rushed to the bathroom to brush my teeth.
Back in my room, excitement mounting, I pulled a Playboy out from under the mattress and got in bed. I browsed the well used magazine until I came to the Playboy of the Month, a sexy brunette with full breasts and a thick pubic bush. Pushing the covers down, I fished my erection out of my pajamas and reached under the pillow, bringing Mom’s white, gossamer panties out. I inspected the cotton crotch and noticed a slight discoloration, brought the gusset to my nose and sniffed. Was there a slight hint of something?
Excited, aroused, and horny, I carefully positioned her panties over my cock, my tip touching the cotton gusset where Mom’s pussy had been, wrapping the panties around my shaft, I looked at Miss April, pretended it was Mom, and stroked my erection with her panties. It was a new sensation, more intense, seeing a naked woman while masturbating with panties. It felt wonderful. It was exciting. And it didn’t take long for my cock to strain and pulse. Stroking my cock, the panties shifted and the tip of my cock slipped up the cotton gusset to appear pressed against the gossamer material. I loved the sight of my cock in her panties. Precum leaked, dampening the gossamer material and I was too far gone to care. Stroking my cock with Mom’s panties excited me so damn much. When the pressure of an incipient climax arrived, I stared at my cock, ignored the Playboy, and groaned quietly as my orgasm arrived. My cock swelled, pleasure burst, and I came in her panties, thick semen spurting and oozing through the material. I pulsed and spurted again, hot cum surrounding my tip, a wet stain spreading. I was cumming in Mom’s panties and, God was it exciting! Stroking myself faster, I came hard, pleasure washing through me.
As my orgasm passed and cock waned, guilt had arrived. Seeing the mess I’d made of my mother’s panties brought on temporary panic. Folding them up, I’d shoved them under the mattress with the Playboy, determined to wash them out the next day and return them to her hamper.
Sipping whiskey, I smiled to myself at the memory. It was still so strong, I had a partial erection just from remembering the event. My fourteenth year had been one of exploration and discovery. Females became an obsession, all females, including Mom.
I’d made a point of trying to peek at Mom dressing. One occasion popped to mind. Standing, I opened her panty drawer and hunted through her intimates. There it was. I pulled out the pastel yellow panties and sat back on the bed, sipping whiskey and studying them. These were cotton hip-huggers, the sides narrow but not quite bikini style.
I laid them out on my knee and let my mind drift back to when I first saw them.
It was the tenth or twentieth time I’d tried to peek into Mom’s room to catch her dressing. This time I’d timed it perfectly. While I’d hoped to see Mom naked – I wanted to know what her breasts looked like – she was already wearing her bra and panties. Somewhat disappointed, I’d watched her from the hall. Mom’s breasts were full but not overly large (at least not as large as those of Playboy bunnies). She was wearing a pastel yellow bra, the cups of delicate lace. The bra gave shape to her breasts, full and suggestive. But it was her panties that caught my attention. Low cut, they revealed little at first.
But then, Mom turned to pick up pantyhose from the bed and I saw the top of her butt crack above the waist of her panties and my mind fired up, picturing Mom’s ass, enjoying its sensual pear shape, how those panties hugged the bottom of her buttocks, and I got an erection, excited by the illicit sight.
Mom turned back to the mirror and started collecting the pantyhose, rolling one leg up. She moved back and sat on the bed, her near leg rising, and that’s when I saw it. Pastel yellow panties stretched tightly to her pussy, shaping it, and at the waist, I caught sight of a few dark pubic hairs escaping. I rubbed my crotch, stared, and held my breath when her knee reached her chest, her hands holding the pantyhose at her toes. There, at her crotch, her vulva full and pouty, dark brown pubic hairs had escaped at the elastic leg.
I rubbed my erection inside my pants faster and watched Mom slip pantyhose up her leg. She pulled it up her other leg and, with the pantyhose at her thighs, she stood and almost wiggled into them, pulling them up to her waist. The pantyhose pressed tight to her, shaping her, and it seemed like her pussy pressed out, lush, ripe, a sensual mound.
Standing, peeking in, I’d rubbed my crotch, so turned on by the sight of honest-to-goodness real pubes, my mother’s pubes, and, seeing her in her pantyhose, small panties, and bra, I came in my pants, erection pulsing and spurting hot, wet cum. Pleasure coursed through me, my cock swelling, bliss hitting with each rapid spurt. Wetness spread in my underwear. I rubbed myself, cumming hard, heart racing, and as my climax passed, I backed away and returned to my room.
I’d made a real mess in my underwear, but my mind was on fire. It was the first time I hadn’t felt guilt.
Looking down at her panties on my lap, I smiled to myself and sipped whiskey again. That event had emboldened me. I now wanted to see Mom naked, planned on how to spy on her when she’d take a bath, and wondered what she’d look like. Playboy magazines were no longer as exciting. I had a real female in my house and I used her panties to find pleasure.
Standing, I returned the pastel yellow panties to the drawer and brushed my hands through the others, looking for one pair – another first for me. I found them at the bottom and pulled them out. Just holding them brought on tumescence.
They were full-cut, pure white, silk, with thin elastic at the waist and legs. Inside, the gusset was cotton-lined. I felt the stir of excitement just like I had three decades ago. These panties were the first in so many ways.
They were the first panties I actually stole from Mom’s panty drawer, excited and nervous. I’d stuffed them into my jean pocket, saving them for later. And throughout the day I’d get horny just thinking about them. I’d put my hand in my pocket and fondle them, their silkiness so exciting, and get an erection. It was Saturday. I was out with Jimmy and a couple of other friends, riding our bikes, exploring and having fun in the spring weather.
It was a new experience. I had a secret, erotic and exciting, and plans that made me ache with pent up need. The day couldn’t go fast enough. Dinner took too long. Television shows weren’t interesting. I had a pocketful of pleasure.
Mom noticed, commenting on how I fidgeted, my restlessness, asking if I was worried about anything. I was careful to hide my erection.
Finally, it was time for bed. I couldn’t brush my teeth fast enough. Waiting for Mom to go to bed was agonizing. And finally, the house was quiet. Heart thumping, I got out of bed, checked the hallway to make sure Mom’s door was closed, her light out, then closed my bedroom door.
I switched the side lamp on, bent, picked up my jeans from the floor, and slowly pulled those silky panties from the pocket. They shimmered in the light. My erection throbbed. Excitement mounted. Placing Mom’s panties on the bed, I stripped off my pajama bottoms and underwear. My cock stood out, high and proud. Excitement built, anticipation making my erection bob.
Holding Mom’s panties up, I admired their shape, full, the line of the cotton gusset showing. She’d worn these panties. Turned on beyond anything before, I bent and slipped one foot into a leg opening, then the other, my pulse racing. Slowly, very slowly, I drew Mom’s panties up. Soft silk caressed my legs. My cock strained as I pulled them up and over it. It was the first time wearing Mom’s panties and it thrilled me. Silk caressed my ass. Her cotton gusset felt soft against my balls, and my erection tented the front.
Almost shaking with excitement, I touched myself, pressing my cock up against my stomach, soft, cool silk against me. Then I caressed my erection. It was so damn good, so damn erotic. Mom’s panties felt like nothing else I’d experienced before.
I got back in bed, on my back, and rubbed my cock slowly, looking at myself, admiring how her panties shimmered on me, how sensual they felt, so completely different from underwear. My cock ached. Feeling lower, I pressed the crotch to my balls and rubbed, the cotton gusset soft, sensual. That’s where Mom’s pussy had been! My cock strained up. Too excited, lost in taboo act of wearing my mother’s panties, I rolled onto my front. The first hump was amazing, my erection sliding over silk, her panties caressing my ass. Cock straining, I lifted my hips and rubbed just the tip, sliding it over smooth silk, and I groaned silently, so turned on, so excited. Need to cum took over. Pressing against the bed, I humped Mom’s panties, cock sliding inside them, erection straining. Suddenly precum leaked and my tip slipped easily, damp, stimulating me. Lost in the erotic sensations, I humped the bed in her panties, pressure growing, my balls tightening and, with a grunt, ecstasy blossomed, my cock swelled, semen burned up and I came in her panties, spurting hot, slippery semen. Panting, I humped and came, spurting, cum wet and spreading. I humped and spurted, humped and spurted to an incredible climax, peaking and slowing, panting, heart racing, and eventually slowed to a stop.
For a few moments I luxuriated in the warm wetness, my erection fading, and the special peace that comes with release. It had been the most intense erotic experience of my life. When I finally got out of bed, I saw the wet stain on the sheet and the front of Mom’s panties darkened with semen.
Taking another sip of whiskey, I played with Mom’s silk panties in my hand and smiled at the memory. That event had solidified my fetish for panties and I still carried it today.
Tossing the last of the whiskey back, I stood and replaced Mom’s panties in her drawer, closed it, and headed to my childhood bed. I enjoyed my soft erection. It brought back such strong memories. I remembered the time fondly, now without shame.