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further early memories . . .
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Recalling my erotic awakenings further . . .
Throughout that winter, my home life settled into a dull routine of school and homework. Looking back, I guess you
could describe me as a shy soul, not one to have the courage to pluck up and persue girls. Not that I wasn't interested, but in our
neck of the woods, away from the city, the opportunities were few and far between anyway. But I had a vivid imagination, and the
consolation that it was simply a case of finding a quiet spot to furn it on and dream.
My masterbatory skills improved. I learned to be gentle and kind to my cock; not to be rough and beat it to death. My abilitry to
bring myself to the brink and keep it there, and the pleasure derived through delaying ejaculation made me a keen practioner of self-pleasure.
My 'sex-life' was also brightened by the occassional discovery of some of my Mom's soiled underwear in the laundry hamper in the bathroom.
By rummaging through the laundry hamper in the privacy of the bathroom, I had the time and privacy to examine garments at my leisure, and
begin to understand their functions, buildilding a picture of my Mom's taste in lingerie. What I failed to recognize at the time was how much I
was being hooked by the allure of lingerie.
As I grew into my teens, and became more aware of my carnal needs, I'd not really thought of Mom as a sexual creature - indeed, the though
of Mom and Dad 'doing it' was an anethma to me.
In linking her underwear to my own growing sexual self-awareness, it slowly dawned on me she must also have a carnal life of her own.
My own needs were more immediate though, and as the weeks and months passed, my totally unhindered exploration of my Mom's panties,
garters, stocking, slips and bras began to develop into an obsessive appreciation.
I loved her stockings ! The delicate feel of the nylon, the reinforced top, the pale flesh colours and the transparent lightness. I'd run them
between my legs, against my balls - the elasticity pressing them into my scrotum. I'd drape them across my stiffened cock, their coolness
bring a surge to my knob, oozing clear pre-cum from the end and leaving a slick trail along the fabric. And then wearing them - learning to
carefully roll them before putting them on so as not to damage or ladder them. Savouring the increasing firmness of their grip as I drew them
up over my thighs . . . it never failed to stimulate my penis to greater stiffness, and generate more goo to palm over the exposed ridge of my cock.
I'd ultimately ejaculate into the hand basin, watching my stockinged image in the mirror as I leaned my crotch into the counter top, my last
handstroke pulling my foreskin back as far as it would go and holding it there, exposing the raw end of my knob, straining to the pleasure
of the throbbing deep inside me, cum shooting in three or four great spouts from the end of my cock before subsiding to a trickle.
Mom's bras presented a challenge to me. As garments they were clearly good quality. Mom was not exactly a full figured lady, and I certainly
had no clue about the mysteries of bra sizes. But thinking about the shape and size of her bosom in relation to the garment I held in my hands,
it appeared she did not require much support. The bras I fingered were really quite brief, wired with a minimal frame holding a satin material
cup which would do nothing to enhance the size of her breasts. So I made an early mental note to study my Mom's breasts more closely,
thinking ner nipples surely must show through the fabric. Oh, why had I not noticed that before, and why was there so much good stuff
to be aware of ?
My 12 going on 18 year old brain boggled at all these wonders.
But it was Mom's panties that really turned me on.
White or sometimes black, well made, wide panels both front and rear, some trimmed discretely with lace, Mom's panties were kind on
matronly-looking to imagin on her, but made from fabric to die for. A silk blend, and so soft to the touch you just wanted to eat them.
No matter what I did with them, crush them against my face, wedge them into the crack of my ass as I stroked off, wrapped them around
my penis and masturbated - they just felt so good.
And the aroma trapped in them ! By this time I was well aware of the general anatomy of a female, and holding the gusset of Mom's panties
to my nose, drank in the faint residue from between her thighs. I didn't have enough hands to do all I wanted to myself, and play with her
panties at the same time. With a pair balled up and wedged tight up against my crotch, I'd wrap another pair loosely around my shaft, and
yet a third pair held closely against my nostrils inhaling her personal perfume, all the while coating my exposed bulbous knob with the
pre-cum that seemed to flow constantly from my prick, massaging the end of my prick until I could rfeel the release starting to spasm deep
inside my loins. I was careful to try not get any cum on her panties, but with the quantities I was unloading on a regular basis, it was
sometime too tempting. So the moment before explosion, I'd wrap the end of my cock completely in the silkiness of her knickers, and soak them
with my own emmissions whilst milking the last drops of sperm. Burying her wet panties deep in the laundry hamper, I imagined they'd
get tossed into the washing machine along with everything else, and she wouldn't notice my dried cum encrusting them.
It was really one short step from there to actually wearing them, and over that summer, through my 13th birthday, I spent longer and longer in the
bathroom each morning, trying on a combination of Mom's panties, stockings and slips, and grappling with the mechanics of garter belts.
Never once did I believe that Mom noticed my cum on her undies. The last thing I wanted was her catching on to what I was up to.
But of course, she must have had her suspisions - she was no fool. I was spending longer and longer at my morning ablutions, when one day,
towards the end of that summer, all of my fun and fantasies came crashing down upon my head.
It was not so long after my Pa finally left home, never to return. He and Mom had not exactly been seeing eye to eye for some years, and
although neither of them was yet 50, they must both have realized that if they had any chance at a sane and happy life, it was best they
parted and went their own separate ways. It was not acrimonious, and indeed Pa kept in touch with us both. But I suppose with my own
teenage preoccupations and the little time he was at home anyways those last years, I hardly noticed he was no longer permantly there.
Although I did notice I seemed to be doing more chors around the house than ever before. The new 'man of the house'.
So it was, that late summer morning, closeted in the bathroom upstairs for my morning shower. I selected a pair on Mom's stockings, a garter
belt and pair of white panties from the hamper, and carefully put them on. Never at a loss, my knob swelled to epic proportions, and looking at
myself in the bathroom mirror I admired the sheen of the nylons, the delicate lace of the garters, and the way in which my erection was held
firmly against my stomach by the diapherous silk of her panties. The outline of my engorged shaft was clearly visible under the fabric, and where
the end of my prick had oozed and soaked the material, the contoured ridge of the underside of my knob showed in bright pink, starkly detailed
against the white sheen of her panties. Feet astride, one hand cupping my silk encased balls, the other wedged firmly inside the crack of my ass
pulling Mom's panties taught against my cock, I was total engrossed in the spectacle of myself in the mirror.
The bathroom door opened. I never stood a chance !
Mom was framed inside the doorway, slack jawed and staring at me. So immersed in my own erotic ambitions, I'd totally forgotten it was her
day off work, and she usually took advantage to sleep in. Now there she was, still warm and rumpled from bed, clad only in her nightie, gawking
at the sight of me in her lingerie.
My erection died.
Totally ignoring her own semi nakedness, Mom marched two steps forward, grasped me firmly by the arm, and dragging me backwards,
and frogmarched me along the hall way to her bedroom. Not a word was spoken, and I was too much in a state of shock to offer any resistance
at all. Weak at the knees, I stumbled after her as she dragged me into her bedroom. Releasing her grip, she left me standing at the foot of her
bed, and moving to her dresser, picked up a large wooden-backed hair brush.
Before I realized what was happening, she had sat herself down at the end of the bed, and yanked me down across her knees, my bottom up !
It was only then that she spoke . . . .
"you're not too old to be spanked young man . . . . "
and with that she began to lay into my ass with her hairbrush, each blow accenting the admonishment "don't . . . you . . . ever . . . ever . . .
let . . . me . . . catch . . . you . . . wearing . . . my . . . underwear . . . without . . . permission . . . again"
Now - there I was, pinned down across my Mom's lap, dressed in her undies, ass being spanked without restraint (wow - it hurt), my crotch
pressed hard up against her warm thighs. The flimsiness of her nightie billowed around us as she raised her arm each time to strike, providing
me a clear view through the armhole of her nightie of her firm round breast - and enormous nipple as she continued spanking . . .
Well, was it any wonder that my erection returned with a vengance?
With the friction between my cock, her panties, the nylon of her nightie, and her warm thighs as she worked on my ass, cum erupted from
my knob like there was no tomorrow. Temporarily contained by my mom's panties, the hot flow pumped and spread across my belly, then began
soaking through the the fabric, through the nylon of Mom's nightie, and across her thighs.
She stopped rigid in mid strike, and slowly pushed me from her lap onto the floor where I lay on my back, looking up at her, my cum transforming
the front of her panties I wore into a wet, transpatent window, framing the last ebbing throbs of my stiff dick.
Dropping the hair brush, she lifted the wet nightie from her lap, and holding it in front of her, stared quizically at it, totally oblivious to the fact she
was baring her belly, thighs and crotch to my unfettered gaze. I had sufficient time to take in a clear picture of her cunt, large swollen lips nestled
in a bed of dark pubic hair, before she dropped her nightie back in place, threw herself back on the bed and laughed until it shook.
I picked myself up off the floor, and slunk away to my room.
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Posted on : Jun 7, 2010
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