I looked up at her and we both smiled. "Thanks," I said and gave her a hug. "This has been a big help."
After she left, I knew that I was going to say nothing to Mark. If he liked using my panties as a source of fantasy while he masturbated, I was now okay with it. He certainly didn't act like he was embarrassed of ashamed of his fantasies and I didn't feel the need to make him feel any different. Besides, he had probably been doing it for years and – since he was leaving for school the following week – I only had a few more days to have to hide the secret that I knew what he was doing even though he thought he was getting away with it.
The next few days flew by. Between work and getting him ready to go back to school, I didn't have a lot of down time to think about what he might be doing with my panties behind his bedroom door at night.
That's not to say that I didn't cum when I did have time to think about it. Over the next week I noticed that my panties had been moved four times and each time I would take those same panties and rub them over my body when I went to bed dreaming about Mark's cock having been so near. Each time I would rub myself to a nice hard orgasm with my panties still on, leaving a strong scent for Mark to enjoy if he decided to look in the hamper the next day. Maybe that's why the frequency seemed to increase that last week. But what did I know? Maybe four to five times a week was the norm and I was just now catching on.
When he left for school the following Saturday I felt a new level of closeness to him even though he wouldn't know why. I also felt a renewed level of loneliness as it was just me in the house by myself again. I looked forward to his promise that he would come home in a couple of weeks to get some more of his things that he didn't have room to pack in this trip.
The Wednesday before he was supposed to come home, I got a call from Mark telling me he wasn't going to be able to make it. He had pledged a fraternity and there was a party that Saturday night that he had to attend. I was crestfallen but tried not to let him hear it in my voice. While we were talking on the phone I offered to bring his things to him on Saturday. It was only a few hours by car and I didn't have anything planned I told him. He seemed to perk up and said that would be great. He told me what he needed (mostly clothes, a nightstand, and a few of his DVD's) and we agreed that I would be there by lunch, drop the stuff off, get to spend a little time together, and then I would go back so he could enjoy his party. We both hung up excited about seeing each other.
The next day I decided to work from home. About 9:30 I got a call from Anne.
"Are you okay?" she asked. "I still see your car in the driveway."
"Oh. Yes." I told her. "I just decided to work out of the house today. I am going to see Mark this Saturday and bring him some things he left behind so I am going to do some laundry and house stuff today in between calls."
"Going to see Mark, huh?" she said with a wry smile in her voice. "Missing your baby, Linda?" she laughed.
I laughed too. "Well, yes, I do miss seeing him. But it's not like that. It's just a down and back trip for the day."
"Did he ask you to pack a pair of your panties in with his stuff that he wants you to bring?" she kidded.
I laughed too. "No. He didn't mention that. But I'm sure he wouldn't mind. As far as I can tell all of my lingerie is still here so he is either going through withdrawal or has a new source of panties that he taps into when he is at school."
"You know what you should do," Anne said, suddenly with an excited, naughty tone in her voice, "you should 'accidently' include a pair of your panties in with his stuff."
"Oh no," I said, suddenly feeling flushed. "I couldn't do that. That would be too over the top."
"How would he know it wasn't an accident?" she asked. "It's perfect. You have deniability and your own little secret that you know what he's going to do with them. Besides, you know he will love it, 'accident' or not."
"I don't think so," I said. "That seems to be crossing some line. Anyway, I have a lot to do," I offered, trying to change the subject. "I need to run."
After we hung up I couldn't get Anne's idea out of my head. The next morning I knew I was going to do it. Hell, I probably knew it as soon as she said it – but couldn't work up the courage to admit it to myself until the next day.
Friday night, as I was going to bed, I put on the same black, sheer panties that I had originally noticed were missing from the laundry weeks before.
As I crawled into bed my hands began to run over my body. Around my tits, down the center to my stomach, then back up. My hands came closer and closer to my nipples as I repeated this motion and I knew – even though I hadn't touched my pussy yet – that I was wet. I was thinking of Mark. I was thinking about him having these panties... smelling my pussy on them... seeing how wet his mommy had gotten wearing them... tasting them... then wrapping them around his big cock and cumming in a torrent.
"Oh, Mark, I want you to taste me for real, baby," I said out loud to no one. "Mommy wants her baby to eat her, to make mommy cum."
By now, I had adjusted to my new reality. I was fantasizing about my own son fucking me without guilt. It was only a fantasy, right? There was no harm in fantasizing.
I reached down and began to run my finger over the outside of my panties, at the clit. They were soaking wet. I put my whole hand over my pussy and rubbed it. I wanted the wetness to permeate the thin fabric. I wanted him to be able to vicariously smell me and taste me through my panties. I couldn't take it anymore. I had to cum. My hand went inside my panties and I began to rub my clit furiously. My other hand pulled hard on my nipple.
"Fuck mommy, Mark," I almost screamed. "Fuck mommy now."
With that I plunged my finger in my pussy and then added another finger, simulating what his hard dick would feel like and I came. But this time I didn't stop. I kept plunging in and out, pulling on my nipple even harder, fucking myself with my fingers. I wanted my son to fuck me and, in my mind, he was doing just that. I could see him above me... his muscular chest, his blue eyes looking into mine, his arms straight so that I could look down and see his hard cock sliding in and out of my wet pussy. God, how I came.
When I couldn't cum any more, I lay exhausted on the bed. As I came back to reality, instead of feeling guilty, I smiled.
"I think Mark is going to have some fun with these panties," I thought, and then drifted off to sleep.
The next morning I packed up all of the things and headed out. I had put the panties I had slept in between several shirts that he had asked me to pack in a travel bag along with his other things. I thought he might open the bag when I was standing there, but I didn't think he would unpack it until I left. If he did open the bag, I didn't want my ruse to be discovered until after I had left. So I didn't put them on top. Besides, that would have seemed too obvious, I thought.
When I got to his apartment it was just before lunch. He met me outside. I carried his bag and he carried the nightstand in to his apartment. I dropped the bag on his bed and he made no move to open it. I did a good job of hiding how nervous and excited I was standing in his bedroom with him and a pair of cum soaked panties that I knew was less than three feet away for him to find. We went to lunch and he walked me around campus to show me where his classes were. We had a wonderful couple of hours together and, at one point, he put his arm around me as we walked. I felt like a school girl again with a crush on the captain of the football team.
When it was time to go he gave me a big hug and I could feel his strong arms around me, holding me tight.
"I've missed you, mom," he said sincerely. "I'm really glad you came."
"Me too, honey. This has been a wonderful day for me. Have fun tonight and be careful."
He kissed me on the cheek and I held his face close to mine for longer than I usually do. I wanted desperately to kiss him on the lips... to feel him hold me close and feel his hands run all over my body. But, of course, I didn't.
"I love you, baby."
"I love you too, mom."
With that I was off. Driving back I was both nervous and incredibly turned on. It felt so naughty but – since he would never know that I had done it on purpose – it couldn't really be naughty... could it?
I didn't hear from him until the following night. When I heard the phone ring, I knew it was him before even seeing the caller I.D. and my heart skipped a beat.
"Hi baby," I answered, trying to hide the excitement in my voice.
"Is that always the way you answer the phone?" he laughed.
"Only when I know it is you," I laughed back at him. "So – how was the party?"
He told me about the party and a few other mundane things that I would never be able to recall since the whole time I was wondering if he had unpacked his bag yet and seen the panties that I had hidden. We chatted for about 15 minutes and I was convinced – since he hadn't said anything – that he must not have opened his bag.
As the conversation finally wound down he said "Uh, mom, I don't know if you know this, but there was a pair of your panties in the things you brought me."
"What?!?" I said, trying to sound surprised and alarmed. "What are you talking about?"
"It's okay," he laughed. "I just didn't know if you even knew you were missing a pair and, if you had noticed, thought you might like to know that they weren't lost."
"Oh gosh," I breathed, my face flushing. My plan was working even though he had no idea. "I guess I must have gotten them mixed up when I was washing your shirts to bring to you."
"No problem," he laughed again. "I didn't know if you were trying to leave me a present or if it was an accident. I'll just hang on to them until I come home."
"Okay. Thanks," I said, maybe a little too quickly. I could feel myself blushing furiously at what I had done and didn't want him to catch on to my nervousness. "I'll talk to you soon honey."
We didn't talk again for two days. I thought about him and my panties in every spare moment I had. I knew that he had to have smelled them, and tasted them. I so wish that I had the nerve to really talk to him about it. But maybe it was better this way – me knowing his secret and "innocently" helping him out.
When he called that Tuesday night the conversation again was about the ordinary events of our days. As we chatted I wondered to myself if he was holding the panties that I had left for him. Was it my imagination or was his breathing sounding somewhat ragged? Could it be that he was stroking himself with them while we chatted? I felt myself flush as we talked. Whether he was jerking off or not, the image was now in my head, and I was getting turned on.
"Is your roommate home tonight," I asked, trying to control my breathing also.
"No, he went to the library for a couple of hours to study," Mark said. It sounded like the phone was unusually close to his mouth. I could hear him breathing and it was having an effect on me.
"Um, baby, about those panties that I accidently put in your bag," I started, hoping I didn't sound guilty when I said the word 'accidently.' "I hope you didn't show your roommate."
"Gosh mom no," he said, very sincerely. "Like I said, I just figured that it was either an accident or you were trying to give me a little present. Either way, it's none of his business."
I laughed. "Thank you, baby. It was an accident, but I'm not sure what you mean by a present. Would you think it was a present if I had done that on purpose?"
I started to unbutton my blouse and my shorts as I was asking. If he was going to jerk off while we talked, I didn't see why I shouldn't take care of myself at the same time.
"Well, you know..." Mark stammered. "Sometimes a girl will leave a pair of her panties for a guy as kind of a trophy or to... you know."
"Masturbate with?" I couldn't believe I had just said that to my own son – but I had, even as I stepped out of my shorts.
"Gosh mom," Mark breathed into the phone. "Um, yeah... some guys like to have a girl's underwear when they, you know, do that."
I laid down on the couch now. I was naked except for the white thong that I had on. As I looked down to see my hand glide over them, I could see my flesh tones through the sheer material.
"I see," I breathed back at him. "So... I am guessing you are one of those guys? That's why you thought they might be a present."
My hands were all over my body now. I didn't even care if Mark could hear my ragged breathing over the phone – which I was still trying to control – but not having much success.
"Well, yeah, I guess. I do like it when a girl gives me her panties," he said. Mark was having a hard time controlling his breathing now too.
"But what if it's your mom that leaves them for you, baby? That doesn't bother you?" I ran my hand over my own panties and could feel how wet they were.
"Hell no, mom," Mark answered, his mouth closer to the phone now. "In fact, even better. There is no one that I am closer to. I love looking at them and touching them and..." His voice trailed off.
"And what baby? It's okay. Tell me what you like about my – I mean a woman's panties. You're holding them right now, aren't you? Tell me what you like about them," I breathily said into the phone. God, I was hoping I wouldn't scream into the phone in the midst of an orgasm while we were talking.
"I can't mom," he pleaded. "I don't think it would be right."
"Honey, you can tell me," I said. Then, with a small laugh I said "There is nothing you're going to tell me that I haven't probably already done... or maybe doing right now," I added in almost a whisper.
"I like smelling them. I actually love the way they smell. I can tell you were excited when you were wearing these, weren't you mom?"
"Um, yes baby, I guess that I was. Sometimes even your old mom gets images in her head that turn her on." Somehow speaking about myself to my son in the second person seemed to be less nasty. But my hands were inside my panties now rubbing my clit, my breathing increasingly choppy.
"I could tell," he said. "I could see where you had gotten them wet with your pus... er... juices."
"It's okay honey," I soothed. "I know you aren't a virgin anymore and know about a girl's pussy. It's okay if you say it." God – I was on fire. "You're masturbating right now, aren't you Mark? I can tell from your breathing... that you're... jerking off."
Then, in a whisper, "yes."
"I'm glad you are enjoying them baby," I whispered back.
As much as I wanted to hear him cum with my panties, I wasn't sure if I was ready for him to hear me cum yet and I reluctantly thought that I had pushed it about as far as I ever would have thought possible even hours before.
"Mommy's going to let you take care of yourself now baby," I said soothingly. "We'll talk again soon."
With that I hung up and treated myself to the most intense orgasm of my life.
"Oh, my god," I thought. "What am I doing?"
It had been three days since Mark and I had spoken and I had listened to him tell me he was masturbating with my panties while we talked. Needless to say, it was a conversation and memory that rarely left my consciousness in that time. It's not like I hadn't enjoyed it. In fact, that was part of the issue I was grappling with. I had enjoyed it. Further, as soon as we hung up, I had fingered myself to an incredible orgasm.
Up until that point, I had been okay with masturbating while fantasizing about my son – because it was just that – a very naughty fantasy that only I (well, and my best friend, Anne) knew about.
But now I had let it progress to a new level. Shit, I had even encouraged it. It was one thing to tacitly know that Mark was masturbating thinking about me, but another to listen to him while he did it. To make it worse, I felt sure he knew that I was doing the same thing while we were talking. I was wracked with guilt. The only saving grace was that I had hung up before either one of us had cum. At least I had SOME sense of decency, I rationalized.
When Mark called that night I was still feeling guilty – but had resolved to address it with him and put a stop to any further inappropriate conversations between the two of us.
"Hi honey," I answered, trying to set a somewhat serious tone off the bat.
"Hey gorgeous," he said cheerfully. "Long time, no chat."
"Mark, before we chat anymore, I want to talk about the other night," I said sternly. "I love you and love that you and I can talk about anything – but our conversation last Tuesday was not the kind of conversation any mother should have with her son. I just want you to know that I'm sorry that I encouraged it and it won't happen again."
There was a brief silence on the other end of the line. I hoped I hadn't come across as judgmental of him.
"Mark? Baby? Are you there?" I asked, this time my tone was softer.
"Yeah mom, I'm here," he said. I tried to read into his voice what he was thinking but I couldn't.
"Geez mom, I hear what you are saying. But I guess I have a different take on it," he explained. "I loved that we were able to talk like that to each other. I can't tell you how hot it was for me and how much I ca--, um, enjoyed it after we hung up."
"Honey, that's not what I'm saying..." I interrupted.
"I know mom," he said before I could go on. "I know it may seem weird for most mom and sons, but it seemed okay for us is all I am trying to say. I love you mom. And I want to be able to talk to you about anything, even if it is about sex. Actually, especially if it is about sex. Who better to talk to when I have questions about things like that than your mom or dad?" he reasoned.
I knew he was rationalizing, at least somewhat, but he was also hitting a soft spot with me. Since his dad had left, it was just him and me. I knew that I was probably over-protective, but I also knew that I had to fill the role of both mom and dad in his life, since his own dad spent less and less time with him as the years went by.
"But honey," I said, trying to gain control of the conversation again, "it's one thing for us to talk about things like sex and masturbation, and it's another for us to listen to each other as we do it."
"Gosh mom, you were playing with yourself too?" he asked, obviously excited.
Uh oh, I thought. I knew that I had accidently confirmed what I thought he already knew. How was I going to get out of this? I quickly decided to try the clinical, honest approach.
"Well, yes," I offered, somewhat unsteadily. "Guys aren't the only ones that masturbate. We all do from time to time."
"See mom?" he said kind of laughing, "That's the kind of thing I am talking about. I know that everyone does it, but I guess I never actually thought that you did it too. I mean I guess I never thought of you in that way and it's kind of nice that now I know you weren't mad at me."
I could feel whatever upper hand that I was trying to achieve was quickly disappearing. But I also needed him to know that I loved him no matter how I felt about what we had done just a few days before.
"Honey, I think you are missing what I am trying to say," I said. "Of course I wasn't mad. And you know that there is nothing that you could do that would ever change my love for you. It's just that I thought the other night crossed some imaginary line in my mind that a mom shouldn't cross with her son. Does that make sense?"
There was silence on the other end of the line for what seemed like a long time – but it was probably only a few seconds.