When I woke up Saturday morning, it was already 10:30 am and my mother had already left for her morning errands which no doubt will take all day. Wiping the sleep out of my eyes, adjusting my boxers, I went downstairs to make my breakfast.
Sitting in the kitchen, I looked at the boxes left unopened after my mother and I moved to the Seacoast of New Hampshire after her divorce. One box was labeled "Old Memories" putting my tongue in my cheek I got up and went to the box, I truly had no clue what was put in the box. Opening the box, there was a book on top, wrapped in blue leather with purple etching the word "Boudoir" on it. Rubbing the dust off the top I walked over to the couch and opened the cover. Inside was a note, in cursive in my mother's handwriting:
"I pray Daddy doesn't see this, but I had to do something to earn a little money in college. At least I'll have the memories."
What was she talking about I wondered, her family was wealthy, why would she have to some extra work? Turning the page I would soon find out. The first photo was my mother, laying on a bed, flashing her bright smile, flawless blue eyes, small diamond studs in her ears, and bright blonde hair pulled back into a tight ponytail save for a few strands over her right eye. She was wearing a baby blue t-shirt, that had a plunging neck line with a bow on the top, further down wearing a sheer white thong, hugging her perfect hips and disappeared between her plump ass cheeks leading to her perfect legs with her feet crossed at her ankle, wearing fresh white slouch socks. I felt my boxers tighten in my groin, the book sitting on my lap, pulsed up lightly, my mother was always absolutely beautiful in my mind, but clearly she can't or doesn't age. These photos were taken in 1988, 8 years before I was born when she was 20 years old. Continuing to look through the book, I found more and more photos and short little captions that drove my mind crazy. Lifting up slightly, I pulled my boxers down my legs, letting my cock spring free. Wrapping my free hand around my base, I slowly stroked myself to the images of my mother. Instinct should tell me to stop, and really, I did not plan to find these images, but how could something expressly forbidden feel so intoxicatingly good?
Another thought went through my hormone raging mind, does my mom still wear panties like that? Well there's only one way to find out, taking the book with me, I walked to my mothers room, and I was pleasantly surprised. Not only does my mother wear sexy little high waisted panties like the photos, she keeps with the time, and wears thongs still today. Looking on her carpeted floor, I saw a little lace purple thong. Picking up the fabric, it was still warm, worn from the day before. My hard cock, throbbing incessantly, I brought the thong up to my face while flipping to the first photo of my mother and inhaled lightly of her forbidden sex. My feeling of ecstasy fueled excitement was short lived, hearing a familiar stunned and annoyed voice behind me.
"Tyler Matthews! What on earth do you think you are doing!" I jumped, realizing what I was doing and there was no way to hide it. I tried to drop her thong to the book, but I turned around, her worn thong was still in my hand, her stature shifted as she walked towards me, clearly agitated.
"Are those my panties?" She asked me, with a tone of disgust and curiosity.
I nodded weakly, unsure of what was to follow. Now within steps of me, I looked at her again as I have before, but the images of her photos behind me flooded my mind. I felt her eyes tracing my body, from locking her eyes into mine, the darted over my body. I watched her bite her lips softly, and tried to break her sly grin. Her hand reached mine, taking her thong out of my hand, wrapping them around her finger.
"What were you doing with these?" She asked me curiously.
