It all started out like a typical Saturday. I was able to sleep a little later than usual and, since it was so pretty outside, decided to enjoy my morning coffee out by the pool. It had been terribly hot all summer, but we had a nice rain the previous evening and the morning air was not only somewhat cool, it made all of the colors in the backyard more vibrant and the smell of all of the flowers around our patio sweeter. There were hardly any clouds in the sky that morning, so I knew it was just a Mathewser of time before we had another hundred-degree day, but this morning felt like a small oasis in the middle of the heat wave.
My son, Mathews, and I live a very comfortable life in a quiet suburb of a large city. We have a large home that is mortgage free with the obligatory pool to fend off the aforementioned heat in the summer. I had put aside enough money to pay for his college education. We both drive cars that are nice, but not in the luxury class. In short – we may have some things to worry about, but money isn't one of them.
Mathews is twenty and was home for the summer, having finished his first year at the state university a few hours south. He had taken mostly core courses but was planning on becoming an attorney like his dad. Sometimes when I look at him now, it seems like he is a clone of his father at that age. He is just shy of six feet, still has the athletic body that helped him win all-district honors in football and baseball in high school, and these blue eyes that apparently make girls weak-kneed if he locks in on them.
Now that he was back for the summer, I loved taking care of him again, making him breakfast every morning and dinner every night, doing his laundry, and basically spoiling him for the simple reason that I could. While he was away at school, I joined a yoga class and would attend spin classes three to four times a week. I'm proud that I have been able to keep my figure and have no shortage of offers to date. I suppose the fact that I am petite (5'4"), have nice boobs (32C), and can hold my own in a conversation about sports doesn't hurt when it comes to attracting guys.
I was thinking about him that morning when he walked out on the patio with his own cup of coffee in hand.
"Morning Mom," I heard him say as he came over and gave me a kiss on the top of my head.
"Hi Honey. I didn't think you would be up so soon," I smiled.
He laughed. "I promised some of my bud's that I haven't seen all summer that we would hang out today."
Mathews sat next to me in our deck chairs and, for a moment, we took in all of the sounds, the sights, and the smells that this beautiful morning offered. He was wearing only his boxers and I caught myself looking at him, thinking how grown up he had become in the last year. I briefly wondered if he ever looked at me in my panties and old, tattered t-shirt and admired my body like I was his. But I quickly dismissed the thought. We chatted a bit about our plans for the day.
We finished our coffee and went inside. I made us both some breakfast while he went upstairs to shower and change. After he finished eating, he gave me a quick peck on the cheek and said he would be back late in the day. I started in on my usual Saturday morning routine of cleaning the house and doing laundry.
As I was sorting the laundry, I noticed that a pair of panties that I had worn just a few days before didn't seem to be in the pile of laundry. Normally I don't think I would have noticed, except that they were part of three matching sets of bras and panties that I had purchased recently. I went back to the hamper to make sure I had gotten all of the clothes, but it was empty. I went through the pile again and matched up the new bras and panties, except that one missing pair. They were black, sheer, nylon bikini style with a cute little pink bow at the top surrounded by lace. After a bit, I assumed they must be somewhere in my closet and went on with the wash, figuring they would turn up later.
On Sunday night as I was getting ready for bed, I opened the hamper to put my dirty clothes, I looked down and there were the panties I had been wondering about the previous morning. At first, I kind of stared at them, thinking I must be losing my mind; but as I came out of my daze, I began to theorize what might have happened. Since it was only Mathews and I in the house, the only possible explanation was that he had put them there. Did I leave them someplace and he found them and put them in the hamper? Had he taken them deliberately? Had he taken them accidently, discovered his error and returned them?
On Friday we often have a happy hour after work which I decided to attend. Mathews only works a half day on Friday so I called him at home to tell him I would be maybe an hour or so late getting home, but I would make him dinner when I got there. He told me there was no hurry since he was planning to go to a baseball game with one of his friends and they would just eat at the game. When I got home, he had already left. I went to change and as I opened the hamper to drop my clothes in from the day, my heart skipped a beat. The pink panties that I had worn the previous day were definitely not where I had put them. And there was only one person that could have moved them.
I took off my bra, threw on a t-shirt and shorts, went in and made myself a salad, and sat in silence while I ate. Why was he taking them? What was he doing with them? I think I knew – even then – but I was still trying to wrap my head around it all at the moment. I finished eating and poured myself a glass of wine and went outside to the patio to get some fresh air. The wine, combined with the two I had at happy hour, started to make me feel a little light headed. As I began to allow myself to accept that he was using my lingerie when he masturbated, I started to ask myself other questions. Why my PANTIES? Why MY panties? Did he smell them? Taste them? Wrap them around his cock while he played with them? Oh my god, was he wearing them?
I suddenly got up and went inside and pulled them from the hamper and took them back outside with me. As I looked at them, I could see no evidence that he had worn them and stretched them out or cum in them. I held them to my face and could still smell myself on them. Oh, God. If I could still smell myself, of course he could too. A tingling coursed through me and my nipples hardened. I started to visualize him with my panties as close to his face as they were to mine at the moment.
As if it was disconnected from me and had a mind of its own, my hand holding the panties reached under my shirt and I began to rub them against my breasts. Had these panties been rubbing his cock and now the same panties were rubbing my nipples? I began to rub harder and used my fingers to pull on my nipples, tugging at them, pinching them. I lowered myself in the chair and – as if it were some other person making the noise – began to moan.
I put my wine down and reached inside my shorts, running a finger over the underwear I was wearing. I was soaking wet. I knew it was wrong, but I couldn't help myself. I was fantasizing about my own son tasting my panties while he jerked himself off. And now, as I tasted them, I put a finger in my own pussy. I rubbed my dirty panties around my lips, believing that maybe I could taste his juices on them like he had with mine. The smell of my womanly scent was thick in my nostrils and it made me even hornier, as if the smell of sex was truly in the air. My finger now rubbing my clit furiously, I pulled my other hand away from my face and grabbed my nipple and pulled and twisted. I began to plunge a finger, then two in and out of my soaking pussy. Geez, I was already about to cum. Every muscle in my legs tightened, my back arched, I heard myself moan Mathews's name, and I came. Oh my god – I just had an orgasm while thinking about my own son! I had even called out his name!