Son Steals Mom from Dad

Author's Note: A long time ago I read a story about a son who keeps stealing his mothers panties and the dad just lets it happen. Thing is, I can't find it. So I decided to write my own take on it. This is a pretty trashy story, but one I wanted to try.

Part 4 of Bully's Mom Has Got It Going On is also still in the early planning stage. There's a lot of expectations around it and I want to make sure I deliver something good.

ALL CHARACTERS IN THIS STORY ARE OVER EIGHTEEN.

***

My wife, Aubrey, marched into the lounge, where I watched TV.

"Phil, he's done it again, look!"

I looked at my wife's hand and noticed she was holding a pair of her black lacy panties.

"I found these in our son's room AGAIN! Look, you can even see the spunk stains!" Aubrey exclaimed, showing me the seat of the underwear that was stained yellow.

"What do you expect me to do?" I asked her, turning back to the TV. "I've told him to stop, but he won't listen."

"Well, make him listen!" she replied angrily. "You need to have a word with him."

"Alright, alright, I will," I said, annoyed at her for nagging me while I was trying to watch my show. She sighed and marched out of the room in a huff.

Some time later, my son arrived home from school. Patrick was taller than me by nearly a whole foot, so I didn't even bother getting out of my chair.

"Hey dad," he said, greeting me with a nod as he walked by the lounge.

"Hey champ, can we talk for a second? I need to have a word with you." I asked, turning off the TV and turning towards him.

"What is it?" he asked, looking down at me. I took a deep breath.

"Patrick... you should stop stealing your mother's underwear," I asked, my voice a bit shaky from the awkwardness.

"I dunno, she's got really nice panties," Patrick replied, shrugging his shoulders.

"She's noticed you've been taking them," I told him, sighing. "She keeps coming to me and complaining, and it's getting out of hand."

Patrick just smirked and rolled his eyes. "Whatever."

I slumped back in my chair as Patrick walked away, unmoved. I turned the TV back on and folded my arms, certain I had not really changed anything. I started to think back as to where the hell I went so wrong.

Since we had Patrick, our marriage has become one of necessity. Aubrey and I seldom slept with each other, and when we did, it would hardly be anything passionate. Even our sex felt mechanical and routine. What didn't help was that I could rarely last longer than a minute or so unless things progressed at a snail's pace.

During a clean one day, I found a vibrator Aubrey had stashed away in a shoe box. It made sense that if she wasn't satisfied with me, she would rely on such a thing. Rather than confront her about it, I did what I always do. Keep my head down and say nothing.

It's not like I could even criticise her either. Early into our marriage, when I realised the sex wasn't fulfilling us, I found myself looking at internet porn way more often. What's worse is that I never really felt guilty for it either, considering my own wife had a plastic replacement for me.

Now our son is eighteen and all grown up. Not much has changed over the last decade. I sleep with my wife maybe once every few months, and I jack off to porn on my phone. And now, to make things worse, my own son has taken an interest in his own mother.

I get why he would, really. Aubrey's always been a health nut. Even approaching fifty, she keeps herself in shape. She's no linebacker, but she's done a lot better than me. I like to think all my fat makes me strong, but the truth is, I'm overweight and lazy.

It's clear Patrick takes more after her in every way. He's way taller than me, with broad shoulders and a really good physique. Even I wasn't at his level in my prime years. And he's only getting stronger.

So with all this in mind, I shouldn't have been too surprised when Patrick stopped coming to me for advice as he got older. It's not like he had much to look up to.

I proceeded to flick through the channels, trying to take my mind off things. I could hear Aubrey in the other room complaining to her friend on the phone about me. All things considered, it was a pretty typical Friday night.

***

A week or so later, I heard my wife march down the stairs with the same pissed off look in her eyes.

"You need to go talk to him - right now!" she barked, not even making eye contact as she stomped by.

I was confused and sat up. "About what?"

"He's not even trying to hide it!" she shouted from the other room.

I begrudgingly got up and walked up the stairs towards Patrick's room. I noticed the door was wide open and peaked my head inside. Patrick was lying down in his bed, with his boxers around his ankles, masturbating feverishly with a pair of her used panties. In his spare hand, he was holding a photo of Aubrey and me from our honeymoon, except he was covering my face with his thumb.

I was in a state of shock. Knowing your son was doing this sort of stuff was one thing, but seeing it was another entirely. I felt like I was frozen, staring at him, wondering if he was even aware that I was standing there.

"Patrick," I said quietly.

"What is it, Dad?" he replied casually, still pumping his fist.

I didn't know how to respond. Any normal father would have belted their son by now. Or at the very least, throw him out of the house by the scruff of his shirt. So why did I stand there dumbfounded? I think a part of it was the sheer size of Patrick's dick. It's clear he didn't inherit that from me. I was just a few meager inches on a good day. Patrick, on the other hand, looked like he had a baseball bat between his legs.

"I-I..." was all I managed to whisper before being cut off.

"Hey Dad, what color are mom's tits? Does she shave down there too?"

I was at a loss for words. Instead of being angry, I found myself being drawn to answer his questions instead.

"S-Sometimes. And they're kind of dark."

Patrick moaned, closing his eyes and continuing to stroke his dick, still gripping Aubrey's dirty panties. Out of nowhere, he thrust his hips up into the air and shot out a typhoon of boy spunk into the underwear. The sheer force alone pierced through the thin fabric and splattered across his hand and chest.

My heart felt like it was about to jump out of my chest. I felt a wave of emotions hit me. All of them foreign to me. It was as if seeing my son lust over my wife was turning me on somehow.

I didn't understand how any of this could even be arousing. Yet there I was, standing in his doorway with a boner that barely poked out through my tracksuit.

Patrick lay there motionless for a moment. He let go of the photo and Aubrey's panties and let them flop onto his stomach. Then he turned to me.

"Here, dad," he said, tossing the ruined undies towards me. "I'm done with these."

The underwear fell at my feet with a thud, as if the weight of his jizz had added a metric ton to it.

I bent down and picked up the used underwear with my thumb and forefinger. The scent of it made my stomach do a little flip.

"Can you close the door on your way out?"

"R-Right.." I stammered, shutting the door behind me and heading back downstairs, dirty panties in hand.

I quickly made my way to the laundry, threw them in the hamper, and washed my hands thoroughly. I then headed into the kitchen, grabbed a beer, and sat down at the table, thinking to myself about what the hell I had just witnessed and been a part of.

Aubrey walked in shortly after.

"So? Did you tell him off?" she asked, crossing her arms sternly at me.

"Uh, yeah. He shut his door, and I got your underwear back," I replied, distorting the truth of what had occurred. She lit up a bit hearing this.

"Good, it's about time you laid down the law with him," she said, patting me on the shoulder and walking away.

Later that night, Aubrey and I were preparing to go to bed. She had almost finished drying her hair, and I was already under the covers reading one of my books. She walked around the room naked, still brushing her hair and preparing her things for tomorrow. I couldn't help but watch her out of the corner of my eye.

Any other night, I would have just not bothered. But tonight, something felt different. As she turned her back to me, I noticed how fat her behind had gotten over the past few years. Having a child meant some weight gain, and she was no exception. Her breasts had a little sag but were beyond DD's. I was starting to maybe understand why my son had such a fascination with his own mother.

Aubrey put the brush down on her dresser and looked at herself in the mirror. She lifted her hair up and ran her hands down her body, admiring herself.

"Lord, I need to get back to the gym. I feel so fucking big," she said, frowning and sucking in her gut. She didn't have that much fat on her, but she was always very self-critical of her appearance.

"You look fine, dear. You're as beautiful as the day I married you," I replied.

She turned and feigned a smile at me before turning back.

"And our son would also vouch that you're a total fox," I said, grinning a bit.

Aubrey put her hands on her hips and turned back at me. "Phil, that's fucked up. He's our son," Aubrey replied fairly coldly.

"Oh, come on, you're not even a little flattered by it? He's surrounded by high school girls, and he still picked you over them."

I saw Aubrey's face twist up as she contemplated what I said. It was like she was denying herself from feeling anything but disgust at the situation, regardless of how she may have really felt.

"Hey Phil, are you tired?"

"Not really, why?"

Aubrey didn't reply. She walked over to the door and locked it, then flicked off the lights. She climbed into bed and wasted no time at all, passionately kissing me. I was shocked, but certainly not upset. It was a rare occasion for us to even have a proper snuggle, let alone do something sexual.

In just under a minute, we were both undressed. I lay there holding onto Aubrey's hips as she bounced on my cock like a spring. We didn't say anything at all during it, as if we were both pent-up animals trying to relieve ourselves.

After just a few minutes, I felt my orgasm on the horizon. I was about to warn her, but my quickshot cock exploded before I was able to. I groaned and bucked my hips, jetting out a meagre few spurts of cum. None of which fell inside her, as my cock slipped out and shot onto my hairy stomach.

Aubrey rolled off and sat next to me on the edge of the bed, still catching her breath.

"Did you...?" I asked her.

"Yeah, sorry."

Aubrey mumbled something under her breath. She was no stranger to my PE problem, but it seemed tonight she especially wasn't satisfied. I couldn't blame her.

She got up from the bed and went to her walk-in closet. I was still in a haze from my orgasm, but I watched as she came out, holding what was clearly her vibrator. She marched into the en-suite bathroom and locked the door behind her.

I could only listen and guess as to what she was doing at that point. I heard the toilet lid go down and the seat creak as she planted herself on it. Then I heard the soft buzz of her toy faintly come in and out of audible range. This lasted for a few minutes until finally I heard her mumbling to herself. I was too tired to really pay full attention, so I could only make out a few words. Words like "big", "dirty", and, strangely enough, "mommy."

Near the end, what I definitely heard was a series of expletives followed by a long, sharp moan.

Aubrey eventually unlocked the bathroom door and returned to bed, lying down next to me. I pretended to be fast asleep, so she followed suit.

***

One evening later that week, Aubrey and I found ourselves sitting together on the couch watching some movie she suggested. While we weren't exactly cuddling up on the couch, we sat comfortably close. What I didn't realise was that Patrick was upstairs, desperately trying to find a used pair of his mother's underwear to soil.

Soon, he stormed down the stairs in a huff to confront us. Wearing nothing but his boxers, with half a boner pointing out.

"Mom! Where are your panties? I need a pair!" he exclaimed.

I could only stare in disbelief at our son. Aubrey, however, whipped her head back towards me.

"You told me you made him stop! Why is he doing it again!?" she shouted at me. I could only gaze back in bewilderment. Defeated, she turned back to Patrick.

"Patrick, I've had to start hiding them because I need you to stop. This isn't healthy!"

Patrick frowned and crossed his arms. "Is that yours?" he asked, pointing towards Aubrey's cardigan that was folded up next to us. She had taken it off because she was getting too warm.

"Yeah, why?"

Patrick lunged forward and grabbed the cardigan. He then dropped his boxers and started jacking off right in front of us while pushing the cardigan against his nose.

"Patrick!" Aubrey shrieked. "Stop!"

Patrick completely ignored his mother and continued stroking. Aubrey turned to me as if pleading with me to do something, but I couldn't move an inch.

"Phil, please... he's going to ruin it!"

He looked me dead in the eye and smiled. He was taunting me. He knew I wasn't going to do anything. Patrick closed his eyes and let out a low moan.

"Mom, I think dad's okay with me blowing a load on your top. Aren't you?" Patrick asked, smiling at me.

"W-What? No, of course not!" I exclaimed back, unsure if I was even telling the truth.

"Hey mom, who's dick is bigger? Mine or his?"

I could feel myself go red in the face. My palms were sweating, and my heart was racing. Why was I letting my son speak to me like this? Aubrey was at a complete loss. She was trying to find the right thing to say, but nothing came out. So Aubrey and I just sat there. Watching our eighteen-year-old son jerk off in front of us as he sniffed his mother's cardigan. The movie was paused, so the only sounds in the room were his fist rapidly stroking his huge cock.

When I was able to pry my eyes away momentarily from what was happening, I noticed Aubrey's eyes were glued to his thing. Her hand was also on my thigh, her nails digging into me.

It wasn't long until Patrick started bucking his hips and moaning louder and louder.

"F-Fuck, I'm gonna blow, mom! Watch!" he shouted, lowering the top towards the tip of his dick. He bellowed out a moan and began shooting out ropes of his creamy seed into Aubrey's top. I could smell it the moment it erupted, even being a few meters away.

Once Patrick was finished, he wiped his tip on the front of the cardigan and threw it on Aubrey's lap. She jumped as it landed, holding up both her hands away from the soiled rags.

"I'm gonna go take a shower," he announced, proudly striding past us. Aubrey gently lifted it off her lap and placed it on the floor before turning towards me.

"Phil... why didn't you do anything?" she asked, looking more hurt than angry.

"I-I don't know," was all I could mutter. She sighed and got up off the couch, leaving the room. I sat there motionless for a few minutes before I eventually got up and headed upstairs to bed.

Strangely enough, Aubrey wasn't in there. I laid there for at least an hour, pretending to be asleep, waiting for her to join me. I heard her walk past our bedroom and down towards Patrick's room. I could only hear very faint talking. Then silence for what felt like eternity.

Eventually, she came back into our bedroom. She didn't lay down straight away, however, instead opting to wash her hands for a few minutes. I opened my eyes slightly, and it looked like she had sneezed into her hands because they were all sticky and runny with something. I thought nothing of it and drifted off to sleep.

***

A few days later, Aubrey and I were back on the couch watching the news. We had hardly spoken about what had happened since that night. We had stopped talking in general, really. Outside of small, nonverbal requests, we became ghosts to one another.

Patrick pranced down the stairs. Thankfully, he was fully clothed this time.

"Hey mom, I need a pair of your panties."

Aubrey let out a drawn-out sigh.

"Honey... we talked about this, remember?" Aubrey replied, raising her eyebrows as if suggesting at something. I had no idea what, though.

Patrick folded his arms and smirked.

"Yeah, well, I'm horny now, and you're busy. So either take your panties off or I'll tell dad that-"

"Okay!" Aubrey interrupted. She jumped up off the couch, holding up her hands towards him as if she were pleading. After a few seconds, she lowered her head and went to walk to the bathroom, presumably to take them off.

Patrick, however, cut her off.

"Where are you going? Just take them off here."

Aubrey's face dropped, and she froze.

"Here? But..."

Patrick grinned at her. She knew there was no reasoning with him. She was wearing a dress, so thankfully it would be easier for her to take them off.

She looked back at me one last time before shutting her eyes and reaching down to the skirt of her dress. She lifted it up to her waist so it bunched up, giving her easier access to her underwear. She hooked her thumbs into both sides and proceeded to slide them off. I could hear the fabric stretch and slide over her butt as she pulled them down until they were at her ankles. Thankfully for her, the dress obscured her pussy, but only just.

She dropped the skirt of her dress and lifted up her panties, which Patrick immediately snatched away.

"Thanks, mom," he said with a wink before walking off towards his room. He was glancing at me one last time as he went up the stairs.

Aubrey walked back to me and sat down in silence. After some time, my wife finally spoke up.

"Phil, are you getting off to this?"

My heart skipped a beat.

"What?! N-No, of course not." I stammered back.

She then planted her hand softly on my crotch and squeezed. As small as I was, I was still noticeably hard.

"Your little dick says otherwise," she barked back. My wife knew I was sensitive about my size, and hearing her say that cut deep.

"I'll ask again. Are you enjoying him treating me like this?"

I couldn't bring myself to respond. But my cock twitched as she said it, revealing the truth. I let out a stifled moan.

Aubrey's tone shifted. She sounded angry but almost excited at the same time.

"How does it feel, Phil? Knowing our son is using your wife's dirty undies to jack off with?"

With that, I bucked my hips and came in my underwear. Her hand clamped down hard on my dick as I ejaculated my own admission of guilt.

Once it was all over, I was left with a giant mess in my pants, and a wife who had lost all respect for me.

As fate would have it, Patrick came waltzing down the stairs, dirty panties in hand.

"Hey mom, I'm all done with these."

Patrick handed Aubrey her now-soiled underwear. She looked at me and then back at Patrick.

"Thanks sweetheart. I want you to wait for me in my room, okay? I'll be up in a few minutes," Aubrey replied to him, an unusual tenderness in her voice.

Patrick's eyes lit up, and he ran upstairs. Aubrey turned to me.

"Look, Phil. You're a good provider. But that's all you are. And I need a man. Patrick... Patrick is more than you will ever be." She gave me a weak smile and put her hand on my shoulder.

"I'll still cook and clean for you. But I think it's best if we don't have sex anymore." She stood up straight and stepped back.

"Instead, I'm going to go have sex with our son. We're going to be pretty loud, so you should stay downstairs tonight."

With that, she marched upstairs towards our room. Within minutes, I heard thumping and voices coming from above. Like a moth drawn to a flame, I went upstairs and stood outside my own bedroom like a vagrant. I could hear Aubrey making noises I had never drawn out of her.