NO ONE IS UNDER EIGHTEEN IN THIS STORY!!!
"BILLY β SUPPERS READY!" Barbara hollered at the open kitchen door that led to the basement where her son lived.
The boy, sitting in front of his computer, leapt from the chair and bounded up the stairs.
He sat down at the kitchen table and immediately began devouring the big salad his mother had made for him.
"Are you sure you don't mind if your sister and I go out for a few hours? I can stay home if you want me to....," she asked with genuine concern in her voice.
"No, I'll be just fine, mom β you guys go out and have a good time!" he said. He hoped his voice didn't give away his excitement and anticipation of being home alone for several hours.
Then she said: "I wish you'd go out more β all you do is sit and stare at your computer β you need to go out and have some fun in your life! Why don't you call some friends and go out and do whatever-it-is teenage boys do?"
"I'm happy 'staring' at my computer, mother...I'm searching for a summer job..." he answered, changing the subject. "I'd like to save some money before college starts."
"On the computer?" she slowly shook her head. "When I was growing-up we had to actually get off our butts and go have a face-to-face interview with a real live person β it was very nerve-wracking!"
"Well, a lot of things have changed in fifty-years, mother," he chuckled.
She playfully swatted her son with a dish towel and said, "Yes β I really miss our old horse and buggy too...."
"Does this look all right, mother? I can't find anything else to wear!" asked twenty-one-year-old Bonnie as she entered the kitchen; she was three-years older than her brother.
Billy stopped chewing and furtively glanced at his sister. She was wearing her bright yellow sundress; his favorite - the dress that showed an eyeful of cleavage; her 34C breasts proudly pushing upward.
Barbara looked at her daughter with mock disapproval and said, "Dear, we're going to dinner and a movie β we're not trolling for men! But if that's what you want to wear in public β fine β you're a grown woman and if you want to look like a desperate tramp that's okay with me."
The girl laughed and said, "I AM a desperate tramp, mother β my divorce has been final for two-months and it's been a long, long time since β," she remembered her younger brother was present then said, "...well, you know!"
"Very subtle, dear..." Barbara said shaking her head. "Oh, before I forget, I want to give you this."
Barbara handed her daughter her diamond necklace. It sparkled in the light of the room.
"Mother β you love this necklace β I can't take this from you!" she argued.
"Dear, I want you to have it β it brought me good luck and maybe it'll do the same for you!" she said. End of argument.
As the women talked about the necklace, Billy's eyes darted back-and-forth between the two beautiful women standing nearby. He tried to be discrete - he didn't want them to catch him staring.
He marveled at how similar they looked: Both had shoulder length strawberry-blonde hair, they were both 5'7" and 120 pounds, their bodies were supple, smooth and curvy in all the right places; his sister looked like a younger version of his mother.
Also, they wore the same size clothes for which he was very grateful.
Billy finished the salad and washed his plate. His mother was hesitating; it seemed like something was on her mind but she didn't know how to say it.
"Are you all right, mother?" the boy asked her.
"Yes, dear β everything is fine...okay, I guess we better get going," she said to her daughter.
Billy was done cleaning-up; he watched out the back window as the two women climbed into the family car. He walked into the living room, pushed the curtain open just enough to see the car back out of the driveway then go down the street towards the corner. When the car turned the corner and disappeared from his view he hurried downstairs.
The basement consisted of his 'room', a bathroom and a laundry area with a washer and dryer. His 'room' was a large sofa-bed, a tv, a bureau for his clothes, and his computer table.
He immediately walked to the laundry basket. His heart leapt with joy and his pulse began racing when he saw not one, and not two, but three pairs of panties on the very top of the laundry basket.
WOW β I hit the jackpot today, he said to himself. It was like finding a secret treasure chest. He smiled and snatched-up the panties and walked the twenty feet to his bed.
He wasted no time stripping off his clothes.
Barbara and Bonnie parked the car around the corner out of sight from the house. They walked fast back to the house. They found the basement window that they'd left the curtain open enough for them to see in, but not far enough for Billy to notice.
The two women had concocted this plan a couple weeks earlier after a long talk about what to do about Billy's 'odd hobby'.
Barbara had known for some time that her son was using hers and her daughter's panties to pleasure himself, but she didn't know how to approach him about his behavior.
She wasn't sure how long it had been going on. Billy had gotten into the habit of doing everyone's laundry a couple years ago; it had surprised both her and Bonnie, but they took it as a sign that he was maturing, and wanted to help out around the house.
Then one day by accident she found a pair of her underwear buried in the laundry basket, and when she felt a crusty stain on them it puzzled her. She couldn't think what the stain could possibly be.
One day while she was browsing the internet, she came across an article about how some men get sexually aroused by dressing in women's clothes; even going as far as masturbating with women's panties.
For several days thereafter, she searched the laundry basket until one day she found a pair of her daughter's panties with the same large crusty stain. Her suspicions were confirmed β her son was using their panties to pleasure himself.
Barbara understood that Billy's 'helpfulness' was a ruse; a deception aimed at preventing the women from discovering semen stains on their underwear in the laundry basket.
Pretty clever of the boy to take on the 'responsibility' of laundry when all he was doing was covering-up his strange behavior, she thought.
"He's a pervert, mother," Bonnie had argued, "...you need to send him to a psychiatrist!"
"Dear, he's a teenage boy...from what I understand they masturbate all the time β it's very normal."
"Is it normal to jerk-off in their mothers and sisters panties? I don't think so, mother. I say we tell him we know he's a degenerate β maybe that'll stop him."
"We are not going to traumatize the boy...I want to catch him in the act, and when he, ah...does that thing, I'm going to peacefully and rationally confront him and have a talk with him...I don't want him to think he's doing something wrong or abnormal."
"A guy shooting his load into women's panties instead of inside real women isn't wrong or abnormal, mother?"
"Don't be so crude, dear."