All the Things We Left Unsaid

***All characters in sexual situations are 18 years of age. This is a panty fetish story involving a mother and son but not an incest story***

It was only when I became a father that I really realized how incredibly difficult raising me must have been on my mom. She had me when she was still in high school which meant that she never graduated. My dad was never around, and she had to work two pretty shitty jobs just to have enough to pay the rent on some equally shitty apartments.

You've probably heard a lot of people raised in my situation say something along the lines of 'somehow my mom always managed to..." followed by the string of miraculous things these super parents did despite being destitute. It wasn't like that for me, however. There were no surprise Christmas presents, regular trips, or money produced from the ether for stuff like guitar lessons.

It's not like Mom didn't try. As I said, she worked two jobs pretty much my entire life. She sought out and took all the help she could get, but the odds were really against her from the second she found out she was pregnant with me and was talked out taking care of it or putting me up for adoption. Her parents kicked her out of the house when they found out she got pregnant, and she spent some time living with my father's family.

I should stress that I consider her to have been a great mom, considering our circumstances. We moved around a lot, and she spent so much time working that my grades were never great. Because of that I ended up being held back to repeat 6th grade, but she told me how important it was that I at least get a high school diploma.

Right before high school started she moved us again, this time to a slightly nicer part of the misery that was northern Pennsylvania in the late 90's. She got us a 1-bedroom apartment in a building on Main St. in Towanda, which had the added benefits of being walking distance to the High School as well as being between the WIC office and a restaurant where she waited tables in the evening.

As had been the case in most of our apartments throughout my life, having one bedroom meant a little bit of sleight of hand was needed. She had been investigated by the Office of Children Families and Youth once because of our living arrangements so ever since then the bedroom was "my room" and she was supposed to be sleeping on the couch. But that was only for when a caseworker came around. She worked so hard that even as child I couldn't deny her the right to sleep in a bed in her own home.

So, in Towanda, just as it had been in the shitty apartment in Williamsport and the trailer in New Albany and so many other places, the dresser and closet in the bedroom held my clothes. The walls sported my Eagles and Phillies posters, but I never actually slept in there.

When I was younger, we did sleep in the same bed for a few years, but when the first caseworker came around that ended. She never touched me in a sexual way, despite what you may think I'm here to tell you about, but that didn't mean we didn't have an unspoken erotic connection... eventually.

By the time we moved into the Towanda apartment I was 18 and she was 34. We were both bound to need to get off every once-in-a-while despite the challenges of our shared living area. She'd go into "my room" at night and I'd be able to hear the low buzz of her toy and an occasional whelp or moan. And I'm sure that she had to have heard me on occasion as well, either in the bathroom or out on the couch at night. We had always lived in close quarters, and it didn't seem all that odd to me that one of us might overhear the other's intimate time.

Except for one summer when I was 8, she never had a boyfriend. Looking back now I realize that it must have been quite a sacrifice for her. She wasn't a natural beauty or anything, but I'm sure she would have had plenty of takers. Shortly after I moved out, she moved in with a guy she worked with at the Jeld-Wen plant.

She was tall and lanky with mousy brown hair, plain facial features and a pale complexation. She had a truly radiant smile that was almost paradoxically more alluring because she would always try to repress it to cover up the crookedness that twenty years of not having dental care causes. But her irrepressible nature was such that no matter how hard she tried, the smile would always come back. When this happened it would cause her to look away from the person that was causing her to smile, out of shyness. It was totally charming, and I wasn't the only one who thought so.

Although naturally shy, she could also be very direct, quite assertive, and very open-minded. She had an innate sense of right and wrong that didn't always comply with society's at large. When she found weed in my bag when I was 16, all she said was to be careful and keep in mind that most jobs I was likely to get required a drug test. When I got my first girlfriend in junior year, she kept telling me she would go out for a few hours if I wanted to bring her home for a bit.

I didn't have the heart to tell Mom that the reason I didn't bring my girlfriend around wasn't because she might be there when we wanted alone time, but rather because I was ashamed of where we lived. That relationship ended the summer before my senior year when she went off to college.

And it was in those circumstances that our odd little sordid dance started. Shortly after Melanie and I broke up I found myself endlessly horny. I asked a few other girls out, but things were moving slowly so it didn't seem like I stood any chance of fooling around with anyone anytime soon. I exercised one of my rights as a newly minted 18-year-old and decided to buy some porn. It was literally the only hardcore option available to a guy in 1999 with no cable.

I had gotten a pretty good job for a high school kid working at the Golf Club across the river which was just about a ten-minute bike ride from home. Along the way there was a place called Dandy Mini Mart that always had porn mags behind the counter with just their logo sticking out above black protective screens. One day I mustered the courage to stop in and get some, despite the fact that the guy behind the counter had been a senior at the high school when I was a freshman. I pointed at a copy of Hustler and what I thought was Penthouse and forked over a $20.

I was so excited as I peddled home with the two mags under my arm. I was a bit disappointed when what I thought was Penthouse turned out to be Penthouse Letters (which was basically the 90's version of Literotica) but the Hustler definitely got the job done for me.

Shortly after I came, Mom came home to find me unusually relaxed on the couch. She ran into the bathroom to grab a quick shower and change for her evening shift at the restaurant and in about 25 total minutes she was off again.

I made myself something to eat and plopped down on the couch for the evening with time to kill and the whole apartment to myself. Even though I had just come an hour before I was horny again (good to be 18!) so I started thumbing through the Penthouse Letters. I read some of the stories and was surprised to find that they were getting me pretty hard despite so few nude pictures. I didn't know what time Mom's shift would be over, so I headed to the bathroom to jerk off again. As I sat stroking on the toilet I read a story about a college panty raid that reminded me of a scene from the movie "Revenge of the Nerds."

The big difference between the Penthouse Letter and the movie was that in the letter the frat guys were stealing dirty panties rather than clean ones out of drawers as the Nerds had done. The letter writer talked about enjoying all the different scents of the different girls. Some were more musky, some were almost sweet, while others were sweaty or smelled of piss. The letter writer said that they all drove him crazy in different ways.

I had never thought about panties in a sexual context until that time, but I was suddenly very interested. And that's when I saw them.

Mom's jeans and panties were laying in a ball on the bathroom floor no more than three feet from me. Since all my clothes were in the only bedroom, she kept her clothes and dirty laundry in the bathroom closet. I had seen her dirty clothes hundreds of times and never really paid them much mind, but tonight my eyes were drawn to them.

As I sat stroking on the toilet, I kept peeking over the top of the magazine at her dirty pants and panties getting more and more turned on. I kept thinking how much I wanted to see what they smelled like, but they didn't belong to some sorority girl, they were my own mother's! Eventually, after rereading the line about how he loved all the different types of scents, I dropped the mag on the counter and grabbed Mom's panties from inside her jeans.

I stood there with my hard cock twitching as I rubbed the cotton between my thumb and fingers. I looked closer at the crotch and saw some discoloration like the letter writer had talked about. After only a few seconds, I held them up to my nose and took a deep breath. The reaction was instant. The combination of smells sent electric shocks to both my brain and my cock spurring me start stroking even faster as I used my other hand to hold the fabric close to my nose. After just a few minutes I blasted my second load of the night all over the closet door.

I staggered back to the toilet and, still clutching Mom's panties, grabbed some TP to clean my mess. After that I cleaned myself and walked out of the bathroom, still holding the panties like a kid with a security blanket. I realized I couldn't just keep them, so after sniffing them some more to try and figure out what I liked so much about them, I returned them to where I found them.

One time was all it took. I was absolutely 100% hooked. The next day at school I noticed the panty line of one of my classmates through her gym shorts. It was like the panty creep equivalent of the Baader-Meinhof effect where my life was divided into two sections: Before I realized that I had a thing for panties, and after.

All throughout that fall I would grab Mom's panties off the floor or out of her hamper and jerk off with them pretty much every day. Most of her collection were Haynes cotton bikini style with a full back in various color patterns. They were great for retaining her scent, but otherwise kind of boring. She had two pairs of black nylon ones which were softer and cut higher on the leg, but I only ever found those in her drawers, never worn.

While unclogging a toilet in the ladies changing rooms at the golf club it occurred to me that that would be a good place to get my hands on some panties that didn't belong to my mom, but I was never able to work that out. Any time I had a reason to be in there, a female member of staff would go in first to make sure it was empty. If something were to go missing, they'd know for sure who did it.

So, it was just me and Mom's panties almost every chance I got throughout the fall and into winter. Then I fucked it up. One night she said she was going out to work, but she spent a lot more time getting ready than usual. She left wearing jeans and a sweater, just like she would to wait tables, but she did her hair and wore perfume which was unusual.

I was asleep on the couch when she got home well past midnight, but the sound of the door woke me. I pretended to still be asleep as she tiptoed past me into the bedroom and closed the door. A few minutes later the bedroom door opened, and she came out in just her bra and panties to walk into the bathroom. It wasn't all that unusual, and I had enjoyed catching glimpses of her like this over the proceeding months since my panty obsession started.

The shower started and stopped, and the toilet flushed before she emerged from the bathroom with a towel wrapped around her and clean clothes under her arm. I lay there totally unable to sleep, not because I had seen her walk by in her bra and panties, but because I could tell that they were the black nylon ones, and I had never clocked her wearing them before.

In the morning she asked me if I wanted a ride to school, but I said I was fine to bike there. As soon as the door closed I jumped up and ran to the bathroom. There was nothing on the floor, so I opened the closet and peeked in her hamper where I found the bra and panties from the night before. I grabbed the panties and held them to my nose straight away. The smell was familiar but noticeably different and it made my head swim.

With the benefit of hindsight, I realized that the specific odor I was experiencing in that moment was almost entirely arousal. I had experienced quite a few of her sweaty, musky "every day" panties and I did enjoy them. Sometimes I got lucky and got a pair that had a particular tang that seemed to be from when she masturbated. But those were always mixed with her regular odor, and while they had been my favorite before, nothing topped this pair that were worn only before, during, and after her rendezvous.

I took the black nylon panties and the black bra into the bedroom and took all my clothes off before flopping down on the bed. I deeply inhaled not only the crotch of her panties, but also the inside of the tiny cups of her bra. Long before I knew what edging was, that was what I ended up doing. I would stroke for ten or twenty minutes and then stop to focus on the panties.

The differing smells were driving me crazy, and I wanted more, so I grabbed her crappy sweatshirt that she wore around the apartment and deeply inhaled the odor in the armpits. I was fully lost in the moment and I before long I was using the seat of the panties to sheath my cock so I could stroke into their softness.

I writhed and bucked my hips as I fucked up into this little pocked of nylon that my mother had worn on a date, or to a hook up, I didn't know. By the time I realized that I was parched I caught a glimpse of the clock and it said 9:18. I had been jerking off for over two hours! While I had my head turned to observe the clock, I caught the scent of her shampoo on her pillowcase, and that was what put me over the edge. I exploded into her panties. My body shook as the biggest orgasm of my life tore through me.

Once I had calmed down and caught my breath I looked down at the scene of the crime. My come seeped through the nylon and glooped out from underneath where it collected on my balls, thighs, and pubic hair. I instinctively mopped it up with the panties and stumbled to the bathroom to fully clean myself. It was pretty obvious that I wasn't going to school today!

I tried my best to rinse the panties out in the sink to get my come off them, but as it turned out I didn't do a very good job. I went to the bedroom to retrieve the bra and put the sweatshirt back on the chair. I also straightened out the bedspread before grabbing my own clothes and exiting.

After returning the bra to the hamper I bent my head to the bathroom sink and drank what seemed like gallons of water right from the tap. I raised the toilet seat to take a leek and found that I had stimulated myself to such a level that even the feeling of pissing caused shivers up and down my spine and flutters in my stomach.

I laid on the couch quite pleased with myself and fell deeply asleep.

Then I was awoken by the bedroom door slamming. I looked around trying to figure out what was going on. It was noon, and apparently, she had come home for lunch. I panicked, not because she'd be mad that I cut school, but because she was not one to slam doors. She emerged from the bedroom and just glanced at me as she walked past on her way to the front door. She slammed that too.

When I got up, I walked around trying to piece together what had happened. My worst fears were confirmed when I walked into the bathroom and saw the black nylon panties draped over the shower bar. I guess I didn't do a very good job cleaning them. Next, I peeked my head in the bedroom and saw that there were only sheets on the bed and the bedspread was balled up and thrown on the chair. I hadn't paid close enough attention to the mess I had apparently made there.

The rest of the day was like torture as I waited for her to get home. 5 O'clock came and went and she didn't arrive. Finally, at 10:15 she came in from her shift waiting tables next door.

She looked at me and I could feel the color draining out of my face. She opened her mouth to speak, and then closed it, squinting as she observed the utter terror on my face. We just stared at each other for what felt like hours but was probably only a few seconds before she finally spoke.

"Andy... do you remember when I talked to you about your private time? How I said its best to clean up with tissues or a paper towel rather than a tee shirt, or socks?"

Color returned to my face, but it was about 5 shades redder than usual. When I had first started to masturbate, I used laundry to clean up like a lot of guys, but she told me not to. It had embarrassed me then, but I got over it quickly because she hadn't chastised me for jerking off, just for my clean up method. In fact, after we had that talk, she started telling me when she was going to read in her room for a few hours, giving me a clear window to rub one out.

But now though, things were different. I hadn't just come in one of my gym socks. I had come in her panties and on her bed. I was already thinking about who at school would let me move in with them.

"Listen... I get it. I'm not mad. Just stick to tissues or a paper towel and stay out of my hamper and my room, ok?" And with that she turned in for the night leaving me somewhat comforted but still unsteady.

I slept poorly that night as I tossed and turned on the couch trying to figure out if I was a bad person. But in the morning, all my fears were put to rest. Mom woke me up telling me it was best not to miss two days of school in a row. She made me an english muffin and poured me juice as she regaled me with a story about one of the teachers from my school coming into the restaurant with someone other than her husband.

We left at the same time, and she offered me a ride to school, since we were a bit early, and it was really cold out. Just before I got out of the car, she grabbed my arm and said "Hey. I'm sorry that things've been hard on you growing up. I know aiin't been able to give you too good a life, but you gotta know if I coulda done more I woulda."

It almost made me cry. In that moment I couldn't believe I had done such a terrible thing to the one and only person who ever looked out for me. I opened my mouth to respond but she just waived me off, patted me on the knee and told me to have a good day.

I felt like total shit the whole day at school, and I couldn't find anyone to give me a ride home. I didn't have my bike so that meant a cold walk which gave me even more time to feel bad. As I got to the front door of the apartment, I saw a note taped to the door. My hands shook as I opened it and read: 'A: I'm going right from the plant to the restaurant. See you at 10ish. Mom.'

I breathed a huge sigh of relief as I opened the door. She must have put it up when she came home at lunch. As I walked to the couch to drop my bookbag I was shocked to see a few items laid out on the coffee table. The first thing that grabbed my eye was a pair of red satin panties that I had never seen in her drawer before. They were folded up on top of two squares of paper towels along with a note written on the other half of the piece of paper from the front door.

The note read: 'One cap full of Woolite in cold water in the bathroom sink. Rince with clean water and hang on the shower bar to dry.' I was totally lost.

At first, I thought she had gone out and bought a pair of panties for me to use to jerk off into, which while way more than most moms would do, wasn't exactly what I was after. But when I picked the red panties up, I saw the telltale stains in the crotch. I held them to my nose and breathed deeply to find that they smelled just like her date night panties: pure arousal.