Preface – This is my first attempt at writing a story like this. I am a professional, single mom with a son that attends college. What follows is based on real life events and my imagination. I hope you enjoy and look forward to feedback. Everyone in the story is over 18.

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 matter of time before we had another hundred degree day, but this morning felt like a small oasis in the middle of the heat wave. As I sat there, listening to the mix of birds chattering and the fountain running in the pool, my senses were flooded and I thought how fortunate I was.

My ex and I had divorced about seven years before, after a one year separation. It was devastating at the time, but I had moved on. Both of us were quite successful in our respective fields and, after discovering he was having an affair with a woman in his office, I had received the lion’s share of our assets. By a lot of people’s standards I suppose that I appeared to be rich, but I never thought of it that way. My son, Mark, 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.

Mark 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. When my ex and I divorced, I got custody of Mark. At first his dad made an effort to spend time with him, but as time went on, he seemed to be less and less interested in being there for Mark. I did the best that I could raising him alone, but it wasn’t always easy. In fact, as I look back on it now, I’m not sure it was ever easy. Now he had grown into not only a handsome young man, but the kind of son that any mother would be proud of. He was smart and hard working, choosing to get a job as an intern at a fairly large law firm for the summer instead of lying around the pool like a lot of his friends. To say I am proud of him would be an understatement.

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 big boobs (32D), and can hold my own in a conversation about sports doesn’t hurt when it comes to attracting guys. When Mark left for college I did begin to go out more and met some really sweet guys, but since he had been home I had cut back on my social life again so that I could enjoy more time with him.

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. “Guess I’m growing up. Besides, I promised some of my bud’s that I haven’t seen all summer that we would hang out today.”

Mark 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. These were just the type of clothes that we always slept in and were used to seeing each other like this. We chatted a bit about our plans for the day. Since he had completed his first year of college it seemed like he had matured ten-fold. He was easy to talk to, funny, and made me feel young again. I was still his mom and we never crossed any of society’s boundaries, but it was a more adult relationship now. We could talk about careers, politics, dating, movies we liked, and pretty much anything that I might find myself talking to a guy with if I was out on a date. I learned earlier in the summer that he wasn’t a virgin and – while that is something that any mom has a bit of a hard time hearing from “her baby” – he didn’t seem to be promiscuous. And anyway, he was old enough now to make those kinds of decisions for himself. In my most honest moments I knew that, with all of the cute girls that apparently adored him, I probably would have been a little worried if he hadn’t already lost his virginity.

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 for some reason 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 fairly recently. I went back to the hamper to make sure I had gotten all of the clothes but it was empty. It’s not like these were everyday white cotton underwear that would be easy to overlook. I had specifically decided to dress up my lingerie collection a week or two before and bought some expensive, sheer, sexy bras and panties. The kind we like to wear when we are either expecting to hook up or just want to feel sexy under our work clothes without anyone else knowing. 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 I was getting ready for bed and went to put the clothes that I had been wearing in the hamper. When I opened it, 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 Mark 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?

I was confused, but not overly concerned. However, I began to take note of which underwear I wore and even where I placed them in the hamper at night. I would make a mental note that I would place them on the right or the left side of the hamper before I took a shower. For the next four days, they were always in the same location that I had placed them. “Who knows?” I thought. Maybe I had just had a mental lapse and they were there all along.

On Friday we often have a happy hour after work which I decided to attend. Mark 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. They were on the right hand side of the hamper and I specifically remembered putting them on top of the shorts I had worn the previous night on the left hand side. The shorts were in the same place – but the panties had been moved. 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. I then stuck my tongue out and flicked it across the crotch like I imagined he might have done. When I did, I knew there was the faintest taste of my pussy on them. 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. What the hell was I doing thinking about this? My own son? His cock? But I was too far gone to stop now. 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 Mark’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!

As I slowly came back to earth I began to ponder what I was going to say… or do. Do I confront him? Do I ignore it? Maybe all boys go through this. At the moment I was too spent to think rationally. I decided to think about it the next day when I wasn’t thinking in the afterglow of one of the most intense orgasms I had experienced in quite a while. I had another glass of wine (this is way more than I usually drink – but I thought it was justified that night) and went to bed before he came home.

As I went to sleep that night I could feel that the panties I had been wearing were still a little wet from my earlier actions, but now I didn’t care. Tomorrow would be another day and I would figure it out.


The next day was another glorious Saturday. I was a little groggy from the previous evenings wine but pulled myself out of bed and started the coffee again. As my head began to clear, I remembered why I had felt compelled to drink more than usual that night and began to think again about how to handle the fact that Mark was taking my panties. Before I could come up with a plan he came bounding down the stairs.

“Well good morning gorgeous,” he chirped as he came over and hugged me from behind. Was I imagining that I could feel his forearm brush against the underside of my breasts as he gave me a quick but firm hug?

“Hi honey. You are certainly in a good mood this morning,” I smiled.

As I turned around he still held me in his arms but I could now see that he was shirtless and had on only his bathing suit. I was hoping he didn’t notice my nipples getting hard under my t-shirt as I stared at his muscular chest.

“Are you going to lay out by the pool today?” I wondered as I moved out of his embrace before he could catch me blushing.

“Nah. Tom and I decided last night that we are going to take his dad’s boat out on the lake today. You know, one more fling before I have to head back to school next week,” he replied. “Sorry. No time for breakfast this morning. Gotta run.”

He gave me a quick kiss on the cheek, grabbed his flip flops, shirt, and keys and with that he was out the door for the day.

I made myself some toast and pulled a yogurt cup from the refrigerator and took it outside to enjoy in the morning air. It was there that the light bulb went on. I quickly came inside, threw on a pair of shorts, a bra, and a nicer t-shirt and called Tom’s mother, Anne.

Anne (sometimes I called her Annie) was one of my nearby neighbors and best friends. We had gotten to know each other when the boys were in grade school and we would do volunteer work at the school together. We were both single moms now and – while the boys had gone off to different schools – both she and I as well as Tom and Mark had remained very close. I could confide in her – and she in me without any judgment or hidden agendas.

“You’re up early for a Saturday,” she answered the phone without bothering to say hello.

“Yeah. Had a little too much wine last night and fell asleep early,” I answered. “Are you busy? Why don’t you pop over and have a cup of coffee with me?”

“That sounds good. Be right there,” she chirped. Anne and Tom lived across the street one house down from us and within 5 minutes she was walking through the back door with her mug in hand.

“Sounds like the boys have a big day planned,” she said as she poured herself a cup of coffee. “Did Mark tell you that they met some girls at the game last night that they were taking to the lake?”

I laughed. “No. I guess he was in too big of a hurry to mention that.”

She laughed too. “Tom didn’t tell me much about them, except that they were older and that they were ‘hot’. I’m guessing that the lake was their idea so that they could see them in their bikinis,” she smiled.

“Speaking of bikinis,” I started, “I think I discovered something that I’m a little confused about. Our boys are so much alike, I thought that maybe you could give me some advice.”

Anne looked up from the newspaper she was casually eyeing while I was talking and put her mug down. “Sure. What’s up?”

“Well, I think Mark has been taking my panties from the hamper and… well… ‘using’ them,” I blushed. “Have you ever noticed Tom doing anything like that?”

Anne smiled and gave a short laugh. Not in a mean way – but rather, in a way that said she knew exactly what I was talking about.

“You’re just now figuring this out?” she asked. “I know Tom has been doing it since he was in high school and I would bet that Mark has been doing it for just as long. You know how close the two of them are. If one of them is doing anything, I usually assume the other is in on it as well.”

I was a little taken back by her casualness. “So… when you figured it out… what did you say? Or do?”

Anne gave that same short laugh again. “Nothing. I mean I guess I don’t see the harm. If he’s like Tom, all he is doing is ‘borrowing’ them from the hamper, masturbating, and returning them,” she calmly stated. “It’s not like he is stealing them and I have to go buy more underwear. And, I don’t know about Mark, but Tom doesn’t get them messy, if you know what I mean,” she smiled. “Ted (her ex) used to love it when I wore sexy lingerie and wanted me to keep it on when we started to have sex. I think it’s just a guy thing.”

As she was telling me this, I remembered that my ex loved sexy lingerie as well. He was always buying it for me (and his tramp girlfriend too I am sure) and loved it when I wore it to bed. He loved making me wet while I still had them on and would position himself between my legs so that he could taste my wetness through my panties. Maybe it was “just a guy thing.”

“Okay. I guess I can see that,” I said. “But, I mean, do you think it’s the panties in general? Or is it OUR panties that they are attracted to?”

At this point Anne looked at me squarely in the eye, this time there wasn’t the same light hearted response. “I’m not sure about that… and I have thought about it,” she said seriously. “But I guess my response is that they both seem to be really good kids that are pretty well adjusted so I don’t worry too much about it.”

“Also,” she added, now laughing again, “I haven’t noticed him hitting on me. So, maybe I am being naïve but I think it is just the smell and the feel and maybe the taste of the panties that they are attracted to.”

When she mentioned that Mark might be smelling and tasting my panties I blushed again.

“So… I can tell you’ve thought about that too… but I get the impression that you have a different thought?” she said when she noticed how flushed I had become.

“Yeah,” I said softly. “I was thinking that Mark liked smelling ME on those panties,” I continued, looking down, unable to look at her in the eye. “I don’t know… I guess I just wondered what you thought…”

“I can relate to that,” Anne said quietly. “And from the way you are flushed, I get the sense that when you considered that you may be the object of your son’s fantasies, it turned you on? Maybe he became an object of your fantasy life?”

I was so embarrassed that all I could do was nod.

Anne got up from her chair and came over to where I was standing. She gave me a sweet, gentle hug and said “Linda, it’s okay with me if you played with yourself while fantasizing about your son. He’s a good looking young man. And, if it makes you feel any better, you’re not alone. It’s just fantasy. I don’t feel guilty, and I don’t think you should either.”

There it was. Our deepest secret that we had ever shared was out there for us to now know about each other. Without saying it, I knew that Anne had cum fantasizing about her son and she knew that I had done the same. Since she didn’t feel any guilt over it, I felt a weight had been lifted off of me and I let my guilt go as well. In fact, inside, I felt liberated that I had a new, powerful, fantasy that I could call on whenever the urge struck.

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