Mom's Errant Panties

After a few more breaths, she finally said, "We-uh... We should probably call it a night."

It was barely 8:00PM but I didn't argue.

"You okay, Mom?" I asked, irritated with her but also sympathetic to what she must be going through, emotionally. She started to turn and face me, stopping halfway as though she wasn't sure if she could look at me.

"I really wanted... I--Oh Greg... uh I need to tell you some things that have been on my mind, but I'm not sure how I feel about that right now and I don't trust my-- I just... liked that a bit too... and need to process before--"

She stood and tried to look over at me, but her eyes went back to her feet, and she suddenly leaned forward, her hands going to her thighs as her whole body shuddered.

She took a deep breath and then forced herself to stand up straight, her fists clenching as she took a step that seemed to cause another shudder.

After another slow breath, she took two steps around the corner of her bed, then stopped, took another deep breath, looked at me, and said, "I'm not ready-- but I want--"

"Mom, are you okay? You're not making any sense," I said, getting more concerned by the second.

Her behavior was so hard to read. She seemed to be looking at me and seeing through me at the same time. There was also something wild behind her eyes, almost like a vibration she was trying to quiet.

"I just want to feel-- Oh. OH!" she said, her eyes going wider as she stared at her armoire.

She continued to stare at the piece of furniture for another four or five seconds and then turned to look at me, this time making solid eye contact and after a couple breaths, she bit her lip and smiled.

"What's happening right now?" I asked, getting to my feet.

"Just trust me," she said.

"With what?" I asked.

I could see the wheels in motion, but I couldn't guess what she was thinking.

She kind of just kept looking at me, then her attention shifted to the armoire, then back to me. Her eyes lingered on the tent I was pitching for a moment, and she took a half step towards me, then she stopped, blinked several times and looked at the floor.

She then walked over to the armoire and stopped in front of it, saying, "I'm going to take a quick shower, I think."

There was a black scarf hanging from the top of the ornately decorated piece of furniture, and she reached up and tugged on it.

I half expected the armoire to slide back into the wall and reveal a hidden passage, with the odd way she was acting about it.

It didn't move, of course, and while I couldn't see what was holding the scarf in place, I heard an object roll away as the scarf fell free, crumpling to the ground by her foot.

She gave me another glance, this time from the side of her eye, without turning her head. I saw her smirk. Then, she pulled her T-shirt over her head, giving me an unforgettable glimpse at her body in nothing but her underwear as she said, "Night, Greg."

"Okay. Night," I replied, feeling confused as she gave me another little smile and then I watched her walk across the room, an obvious, pronounced sway in her hips that couldn't have been her natural gate. Then, she disappeared into her bathroom, closing the door behind her.

I left her room, eyeing the crumpled black scarf on the floor as I passed it.

In the time it took me to walk the fifteen or twenty steps from her bedroom door to the kitchen, I'd transitioned through at least seven different emotional states as my brain crunched data and spat out possible conclusions, ultimately favoring one that seemed so impossible, so monumentally exciting, dangerous, and problematic, that I couldn't accept it.

My math had to be wrong.

The scarf had been the object blocking the camera I'd hidden in her armoire. That much had become clear before I even left the room. I'd half-expected her to ask me about the camera as she'd stood by the crumpled scarf, but she didn't even acknowledge it.

I was subsequently left with a series of variables and an equation with a singular conclusion that had to be wrong. I rechecked my math over and over and the repeating result had me positively flabbergasted.

It went roughly like this:

A = God knows when, but she'd found the hidden camera pointing at her bed.

B = She either hadn't been, or no longer was, mad about it being there.

C = She wanted me to know that she'd blocked it with the scarf.

D = Before dismissing me, she'd wanted me to see that she was unblocking it.

A + B + C + D = Holy fucking shit!

I downed a bottle

of water I'd retrieved from the pantry in one thirsty chug as I walked down the stairs, my mind now a maelstrom of competing excitement, trepidation, hope, and doubt.

I made a beeline for my computer, snapping my fingers twice and saying, "bric-à-brac" in a clear tone, which was the auditory combination that unlocked my facial recognition. My camera verified I was me and my screens lit up in a 160-degree arc in front of me.

My login process was unnecessarily elaborate for a home computer, but I liked my privacy, and the process made me feel a bit like Tony Stark when entering my "lab".

Tonight's highly technical lab work (if I'd done the math correctly, and I really hoped I had) was a rather cheeky experiment involving my stunning mother's debut performance as a cam girl.

I already had three wank sessions under my belt for the day, so I knew it would take something particularly titillating to coax out a fourth, but I was still at half-mast from the ass fondling and didn't think there would be any issue in that regard.

I could still hear the water running through the pipes above me, so I didn't expect to see anything just yet, but I opened the interface that controlled my network of home surveillance equipment in preparation.

Most of the little squares in a grid of twenty plus equally sized boxes, were showing live images of what that camera was pointing at inside or outside the house. Only three of the little boxes were currently black, identified by the names I'd given the corresponding cameras: [H. Bath] [M. Bath] & [M. Bed]

[H. Bath] was the hallway bathroom's camera, and I'd turned it off earlier while erasing the recording of my mother's naked ass from when she'd been throwing up.

It was too complicated and distracting to just leave the footage that camera had recorded in my redundant storage. The fact that she was throwing up was definitely part of my decision, but I did not trust myself with the option of objectifying her in secret.

I reenabled that camera, having forgotten to do so earlier.

I then hovered my mouse over the black square labeled: [M. Bed] and double-clicked, enlarging it to fill the bulk of my main monitor. I right clicked inside the box, bringing up a sub-menu and I hovered over the Activate Camera option.

I hesitated, suddenly too nervous to click it.

I don't know if I was more afraid of being right or being wrong, but both felt dangerous, and I was having a hard time committing to the discovery.

I let go of the mouse and sat back, bringing my feet up so that I was staring through my knees at my computer screen, my heels digging into the edge of my chair as I slowly rocked back and forth.

The swath of black pixels inside the camera's coverage area was simultaneously foreboding and alluring.

I continued to rock faster in place as the competing ideas that I might be missing something, and that I might have misinterpreted her intentions, began to exacerbate my ability to reason.

"Fuck it," I said, intending to reach for the mouse, but my arm didn't move.

"Right? Just do it, right?" I asked the basement.

I rocked faster, thinking... thinking...

I reached forward and in a gesture that felt like ripping off a band aid, clicked Activate Camera.

The scarf had definitely been the object blocking the camera as I could now see the bed clearly. I'd been fairly certain that was the case, but I'd been having such a hard time believing everything that was happening, I'd given myself a doubt about where I'd installed the camera in the first place.

The lighting in the room was dimmed slightly, but not so much that I needed to adjust the contrast to compensate. I was having no trouble seeing everything within the camera's aspect ratio. Nobody was in the shot at the moment, but I could clearly make out some objects on the bed that hadn't been there when I'd left.

The personal massager I sometimes checked, uncomfortably, for contraband was propped up on her pillow and next to it was a legal pad of paper with a purple object sitting on it that looked like one of those swan-shaped G-spot stimulators I'd seen in porn.

Sex toys like this one were typically inserted just inside the vagina and had a little skinny neck that was used to position and extract them.

The ones I was familiar with had been used in a series of videos featuring a certain amateur porn starlet I liked... who happens to look a lot like my mother, now that I think about it.

In those videos, the girl put the toy in her vagina and got dressed. The boyfriend-type followed her around as she attempted to embark on routine, normal activities, like grocery shopping, going into the bank, or eating at a restaurant. The control for the G-spot stimulator was entirely up to the guy following her, and the girl's job was to keep a straight face while the toy buzzed inside her cunt at variable intensities she couldn't control.

I'd found the concept strangely hot, and it could be kind of funny too.

I think I liked it because it appealed to my desire to see women experiencing sexual pleasure. I don't think that's particularly uncommon, but it was the thing that usually got me off and influenced my consumption of porn, causing it to skew towards actors that genuinely appeared to enjoy the sex they were having.

That was probably the reason Kikko had been such a disappointment for me; I always had a hard time suspending disbelief with her dead, unshifting eyes.

As my conscience poked at my growing excitement, I noticed something written on the legal pad, underneath the purple sex toy sitting on it, but I couldn't read it. I zoomed in to magnify but the toy was covering too much of the writing to guess what it said.

I heard a noise coming from my headphones then, and I retrieved them from their charging cradle, placing them over my ears just in time to hear the final click of a door closing and then she walked into frame and my breath caught in my throat.

Mom was wearing the maroon robe and had a towel wrapped around her hair like a turban. She wasn't looking towards or acknowledging the camera in the armoire, nor did I pick up any indication that she knew or suspected I was watching her.

My hand gripped the mouse, and I realized my palm had been sweating.

"My God!" I said to the monitor, marveling at her shape and the way her back arced out gradually like a little ski jump, rolling into those perfectly shaped pillows of booty meat I'd been allowed to caress and fondle only moments before.

My cock stiffened against the fabric of my shorts, the button of my boxers straining to keep things properly corralled, and I made a mental note to try some different underwear.

I saw her lean to her right and thumb a squirt of lotion from the bottle she kept on her nightstand. She then lifted her right foot onto the bed and began rubbing the moisturizer into it, then into her calf and up past her knee, exposing her inner thigh slowly as the robe fell away with the progress she was making.

She was taking her time to get an even distribution and I was glad she was.

I closed my mouth to restore the moisture that had evaporated with my heavy breathing.

She switched legs, bringing her left up and pointing her toes down into the mattress so she could rub her heal, working her way up every inch of her long, toned stem. The skin looked soft and supple under her delicate but deliberate pressure.

The robe slid back as she neared the middle of her left thigh, revealing most of her hip and a thin strip of material just over her hip bone.

She was clearly wearing panties, but they were no longer the satin bikini cut she'd been wearing in front of me. These were frilly, lacy jobs that looked like they were designed to be peeled off slowly.

"Fucking, fuckity-fuck," I mumbled.

She was so insanely gorgeous it almost hurt to watch without being able to touch. I was 99.99% certain that what I was seeing was a show and that I was the intended audience, but there was still a smidgen of doubt pinging around my skull that would not let me fully enjoy it.

If I was misinterpreting things and effectively spying on someone, I cared a great deal for...

I absolutely didn't want to be that guy and I realized I was going to need a concrete sign that I wasn't that guy, or I was going to have to turn this off......... eventually.

In a minute, I thought, I would probably turn it off if I didn't know for sure.

Yeah, giving it a minute was the way to go... and then for sure, I'd turn it off if I didn't know it was for me... for sure.

The robe fluttered back into position and swallowed her thigh again as her foot came off the bed. Then, she began untying the little knot holding it all together. I saw her eyeing the objects on the bed briefly and then the robe came off her shoulders as she shrugged, letting silky fabric crumple to the floor around her.

She stood like that, just breathing and possibly even posing for the camera. I had no way of knowing if that was her actual intention, but it sure looked that way.

She was a goddess revealed. Every curve was a discovery, and every shadow teased me. I was seeing her like a vision, an amalgamation of every desire I'd ever had.

My dick popped through the bottom half of the slit in my boxers and began straining against the material and oppressive button in an uncomfortable way.

I wedged a thumb into my shorts and underwear, lifted my ass off the chair, and with the deftness of a chronic masturbator, slid both garments to the floor in one motion.

My cock, liberated from its cloth prison, pointed

at the ceiling, a fresh bead of precum already pooling at the tip and magnifying the opening of my urethra when I looked down.

She moved with a smooth feminine grace that almost looked rehearsed, but I still couldn't tell if any of it was for me or if she was just reacting to a general arousal that had possessed her as she'd prepared for bed.

She picked up the legal pad, letting the purple sex toy slide onto the comforter. She then took a step towards the armoire and set the legal pad on the end of her bed, directly in front of the no-longer-hidden camera.

Without the toy blocking it, the strange sequence of characters was clearly legible, but it still took some effort to read, as my eyes continually tried to drift up and watch her body, not wanting to miss a single move she made.

"Wait, what the fuck!" I said out loud, surprising myself with the outburst as what I'd been reading suddenly solidified into coherence.

Mom giggled then, but quickly composed herself, restoring the sexy, determined look she'd had.

Did she hear me? How?

Then, I remembered I had my headphones on and probably shouted much louder than I thought I had. I looked up and realized that she'd probably heard me through the vents.

I blinked rapidly, re-reading the legal pad several times as my brain screamed, 'Bluetooth Pairing Information!' 'Bluetooth Pairing Information!'

I was suddenly hyperventilating, my eyes darting all around me as my body locked up, unable to remember how movement worked. My dick was suddenly the smartest part of my body, shouting at me to get my fucking phone!

I watched as she picked up the purple sex toy with the skinny neck and squeezed the thick oval base. A light under the silicon coating began to flash blue in a steady, rapid pattern as she sat it down near the legal pad.

"My phone! Where the fuck is my goddamn, son-of-a-bitchen phone," I asked the empty basement in a voice that was just above a whisper.

Charger!

The word popped into my head as I jumped up from my desk, rock-hard erection catching the edge of my keyboard, forcing it up and then back onto my desk with a clatter as I got to my feet. It kind of hurt but there was no time for such things.

I barreled across the room towards the hall that led to my bedroom, passing the row of restored arcade cabinets that continuously looped their muted idle sequences.

My dick slapped aggressively against my legs and stomach as I continued to jog down the hall towards my room, bringing a hand up to secure the headphones that were about to slip off.

I threw open my bedroom door and grabbed my cell phone from the nightstand, not bothering to untether it and hearing something crash in my wake as my bouncing dick and I rounded the corner on our return trip, sprinting across the basement living room in nothing but socks and a T-shirt.

In hindsight, I imagine I looked like quite a sight, perhaps some kind of pervy cartoon character, but I'd temporarily checked out of giving a shit about anything outside of getting back to my desk and connecting my phone to a sex toy that would, in all probability, soon be inside a woman's vagina.

The fact that it was my mother's sweet peach of a pussy, wasn't lost on me at all; on the contrary, it was exciting me in a perverted and potentially regretful way, but I was becoming less concerned with that by the second.

I opened the app store on my phone as I was dropping back into my chair, checking the monitor to make sure things were still progressing.

The only change was that Mom had removed the towel from her head and had pulled her hair back into some kind of loose ponytail. She'd secured it with a scrunchy I vaguely recalled seeing on her wrist before.

I keyed in the device name that she'd written at the very top of the legal pad, backspaced over it... retyped it... backspaced... retyped...

My thumb was shaking, and I took a breath before slowly trying again, managing to key in the name correctly this time. The results came back and the first app in the list appeared to be correct.

I clicked install.

As I waited for the app to download, I watched my mother retrieve a small cylindrical tube from the same drawer she'd kept the ashtray in.

The app finished installing and I clicked Open, my eyes darting back and forth between monitor and phone.

I skipped past several introductory slides that came up before I could actually interface with the app and then I touched an oval button in the center that said (Pair New Device).

A sound file played with the button I'd tapped, something that sounded like an erotic female moan but could have just been a chime my overstimulated brain had made sound sexy.

I was completely keyed up as I continued to watch her while attempting to monitor the progress of the app.

It finally finished spinning and returned a list of potential pairing results. I recognized several of the devices as electronics that were always in the house, but there was one new one. It had alphanumeric characters next to it that matched what had been written on the legal pad; characters that, presumably matched the Bluetooth pairing information of a little purple sex toy sitting on a bed one floor above me.

My whole body shook as I selected the information that matched the G-spot stimulator. It asked for the pairing code, which I managed to type in correctly on the second, shaky attempt.

I looked up and saw the flashing blue light on the purple toy change to a single green pulse and then I heard a single low vibration sound through my headphones, which also drew Mom's attention.

I saw a slight uptick in the corner of her mouth as she reached for the toy.