"For fuck sake Mike hurry up! We've gotta get going!" my mother yelled up the stairs.
She'd been drinking again. Mom was not a lush by any standard but 'she did like a cold drink on a warm day,' as my now deceased dad was want to say.
I finished wiping my cock with my mother's panties. At twenty six years of age I had returned home to attend my Aunt's wedding and was only staying for a few days. Whenever I return home, I like to masturbate with my mother's and sister's panties, luxuriating in the sensation of their nylon and satin undergarments against my turgid member. I was also not averse to sniffing the crotch of said garments whilst wanking into another pair.
Neither of them have ever said anything and I an always careful to clean up my mess, but they must be suspicious, especially mom because sometimes I can't resist pulling a leg of her sheer pantyhose over my cock and shooting my load into the diaphanous nylon. I am as careful as any horny man can be but I must have left traces of my indiscretions in their panties and hosiery.
I wiped away the creamy mess that I had made in my mother's panties with a facecloth and buried the item deep in the laundry basket, just as I had done so many times all those years ago. My fingers encountered a garment that felt very sensuous and I pulled it free of the tangle of dirty washing.
It was a pair of footless tights, black but very sheer. I had noticed that a lot of women were getting around in tights or leggings as they called them, they were quite the fashion trend at the moment. As a 'leg and ass man' I was hardly likely not to notice. But these tights seemed very sheer; almost as sheer as pantyhose.
A rather large label was attached to the waistband and I read it as I pushed my cock back inside my briefs and zipped up the fly of my shorts.
'Venosan Ultima Leggings. 70% Nylon 30% LycraΒ© Spandex . Hand wash separately and hang in shade to dry. Do not machine wash. Do not tumble dry. It is highly recommended that foundation apparel be worn underneath this garment.'
"MMMmmm; bet these would be nice to wank off into," I said to myself.
I scraped at some of the crusty stain in the crotch of the leggings and bought the sticky coagulate to my nose; my sense of smell was immediately assaulted by the pungent aroma of cunt.
'Someone is not wearing foundation apparel under their lycra/nylon leggings,' I smiled to myself and threw them back into the laundry basket just as my sister joined my mother's pleas to get going.
"Come on baby brother, watcha doing up there; having a wank?" she yelled.
I blushed as I opened the bathroom door but I was also smiling. If my sister only knew how close to the truth she was!
"Having a piss before we hit the road. It's three bloody hours to Aunt Megan's place!" I replied as I rushed down the stairs.
My mother and sister were outside waiting impatiently so I slammed the door to mom's house behind me, skittered down the porch steps and sauntered over to where my sister's compact car was parked in the driveway.
A rather nice ass clad in what I presumed to be Venosan Ultima brand Leggings was protruding from the rear passenger door. The ample but well-proportioned heine belonged to my mother and it was obvious she had also not taken the manufacturers advice regarding wearing foundation apparel underneath her leggings.
The leggings shimmered in the afternoon sun, displaying mom's lovely long legs to advantage. She was reaching deep into the vehicle and her legs were slightly parted, the fabric clung to her buttocks and more alarmingly to the swell of her mons. The sheer, shimmering fabric clung to the cleft of her sex; it was almost like she was wearing nothing but opaque pantyhose, which in a way she was. Typical mom; she had dressed down for the long journey ahead but insisted on wearing her four-inch high heels.
I couldn't help but stare and my recently drained penis began to thicken. I shook my head to clear the licentious vision from my mind and walked over to the car.
"Mom? What are you doing there; let me help," I offered.
Mom eased herself out of the confines of the rear seat and turned around. As usual she was wearing full makeup, mom always wore full makeup, even if she was just heading down to the store for a few grocery items. She came from a generation of women who believed they were not properly attired if they weren't wearing makeup and heels.
She smiled and then stepped forward and gave me hug.
"Don't worry Mike. As usual, the women of the family have got us all organised," she smiled.
She was wearing a loose-fitting satin blouse with the tan leggings and when she hugged me her ample bosom was crushed between us. The scent of her perfume could not overcome the miasma of bourbon and cigarettes on her breath. Our crotches briefly rubbed and I felt quiet uncomfortable; it felt like mom wasn't wearing anything below her waist. It was vaguely erotic but very disconcerting.
My sister Michele, known as Shelly to family and friends, appeared from the driver's-side door and gave me 'that look'; implying hurry up and get in, mom's been drinking and we have a three hour drive to get through.
"Sorry Mike, but the trunk is full and the front passenger seat is taken up with the garment bags holding my bridesmaid dress and mom's best suit. I had to squeeze your suitcase onto the back seat," she smiled wickedly at me.
My sister and I had a love/hate relationship. We loved each other dearly but we never missed an opportunity to piss each other off if we could get the chance; especially when it came to inflicting mom and her eccentricities on each other.
"Fuck me Shelly! When are you going to buy a decent car instead of this tree-hugging, fern-sniffing, eco-friendly, midget-mobile?" I chided her.
Shelly was a greenie. Not a hairy-legged, khaki-wearing, femmo dyke. (Far from it! She liked to dress in mini-skirts, killer heels, hosiery and makeup and tease every man in the room at any party she attended.) But she was an 'environmental activist' and insisted on driving a low emission hybrid compact.
"Well brother of mine, who currently has a piece of shit clunker that barely made it to his mother's house, because his tight-assed, business-savvy, bitch of a wife cleaned him out in the divorce settlement, and he can't afford a decent car. You can either get in my midget-mobile or find your own way to Aunt Megan's wedding," she smiled sarcastically at me.
"Fuck you Shelly!" I smiled sweetly at my sister.
"As much as you would like to; I'm afraid that would be incest," she said flippantly and gave me the finger as she squeezed into the driver's seat.
"Stop it you two!" mom snapped; then she smiled.
"I bought beer!"
"Surprise, surprise!" Shelly grumbled and closed her door.
I looked into the rear of the car. One side of the bench seat was taken up with my large suitcase; a small cooler sat on the floor.