Of course I'd be lying if I said I hadn't noticed the way my sons had grown into strapping young men, towering five or six inches taller than me, their broad black shoulders packed with muscles. I would even have to admit to noticing how eighteen year old Keenan and twenty year old Antoine made me feel less of a man in other departments too. Even if I didn't try to look, I could tell from a quick glance that their pants showed the outline of a thick, long piece of meat that put mine totally to shame, but of course I had occasionally caught a glimpse of my offspring's fully developed packages at the urinal in the bathroom or in the locker room at the gym and they almost made my eyes pop. My little dick was less than four inches fully hard and barely wider than my thumb, but each of my muscular black sons had an ebony manhood over twice the length of mine even when soft and almost as wide as my wrist.
How had I ended up so dwarfed by my sons' masculinity in every sense? Well, I guess it's just genetics. I was a little white guy and they were blessed with all the gifts of black manhood. Yes, Antoine and Keenan weren't my sons in the traditional biological sense. Me and my wife had discovered years ago that I was infertile and that we could never have kids of our own, so we decided to adopt.
We thought it would be generous to take these two young black boys from an orphanage in a tough neighbourhood and give them a new start in our comfortably well off middle class suburb, give them all the chances that white kids normally get. And, with all the economic advantages of a white kid and all the obvious physical superiority of a black one, our two sons had done very well for themselves. Antoine was studying law at an elite East Coast college and Keenan had just graduated top of his class in high school. More than that, though, there was the thing that I couldn't help noticing, the fact that a skinny, unmanly man like me had raised two black adonises, two paragons of the beautiful male form, one of whom I was about to discover with his massive black dick out and his mom's red lace panties in his hand.
"Oh, er, Dad... I thought you were at work," Keenan turned guiltily to me, quivering, semi-hard black dick thick and veiny in his left hand, his mom's used panties straight from the laundry basket in his right, held up to be sniffed, "I... I don't know what to say."
"Don't worry son," I said, taking from my big black son the sexy lacy boyshorts that I had once bought for Lou, my wife, one Valentine's Day, "I remember being eighteen. We all get urges that are hard to resist. These sure are some sexy panties, right?"
"It's not that, Dad," my adopted black son went on, his dick no longer in his hand, but still intimidatingly huge and dark, closer up than I'd seen it before, "It's not just these panties. It's the fact that they belong to Mom. Now I'm all grown up and started noticing all these older white MILFs and the way that they act around my toned black body I've started thinking differently about her. I know she's kind of my mom, but not really, not biologically. And she's also just this knock-out older white babe with this real sexy lingerie. I just can't stop thinking about her this way."
I was shocked to hear such a confession from my son, but my mind was going a mile a minute with images and ideas. I suppose in some ways it shouldn't be too much of a surprise to discover that a testosterone filled ultra-masculine black teenager living under the same roof as a still hot forty-something blonde MILF who still liked to dress pretty sexy and wasn't, after all, a blood relative of his, would be having feelings and desires like this. The real question, once I'd accepted how natural my adopted son's fantasies were, was how to act next.
"Look, son, I can keep this quiet from your mother, she never needs to know," I reassured Keenan, "But maybe there's something else that we can do to help you with these feelings you're having."
"Like what?" he said, his big black dick now soft and dangling half way down his thigh.
"Just wait in the living room for me and I'll show you."
He left and I went into the bedroom, my wife's lace panties still in my hand. I was taking a big risk here, but my adopted black son's confession of his sort of incestuous fantasies about his mom had given me an idea and the confidence to try it.
In the bedroom, I stripped out of my work suit, casting aside the boring gray slacks and jacket, shirt and tie of my normal office day. I took off my underpants too and then, body quivering a little at the wrongness of it, slid the pair of red lace panties that I had taken off Keenan up my smooth hairless legs, tucking my little dick neatly into them.
Wearing nothing but my wife's sexy panties, I opened the closet and started pulling out her clothes. With a certain amount of skill that showed this was not my first time doing this, I soon found the matching red lace bra that I had bought her for Valentine's Day and soon it sat on my flat chest, filled out with some rolled up skin colored pantyhose to give me the shape of my wife's C-cups. I licked my lips with pleasure at the soft feel of the red stockings with lace tops that I rolled up my legs and fastened to a garter belt, wondering what on earth the big black stud that I had once adopted as my son would think to see me like this.
Making sure that Keenan was still sitting quietly downstairs waiting for me, not wanting to be seen just yet, I snuck back over the laundry basket and found inside the red and white flower pattern sun dress that my wife had been wearing the day before. Thinking back now to her wearing the dress with its skirt brushing around her knees and her large chest threatening to spill out as she bent over to kiss our son on the cheek before he went out for his weekend job, I could now picture something in Keenan's eyes. I could now recall the hungry look as he eyed his adoptive mother up and down. I could even imagine the bulge as his big black dick strained against his pants and he awkwardly tried to cover it from his mother. It was a thought that got me unnaturally excited as I slipped the dress over my head and zipped it up.
Back in the bedroom, I slid my feet into a pair of my wife's red patent leather pumps, thinking (not for the first time) how lucky it was that my little pecker was indeed matched by little feet that allowed me to fit my wife's shoes pretty well. Plenty of nights alone while my wife was on one of her business trips and my black sons had been tucked up in bed, I'd tried these clothes on and practiced walking in her four inch heels and now I was pretty expert at the hip swaying walk that made all the guys stare at her ass.
Finally, and becoming increasingly aware that my adopted son would not wait quietly forever for what I had promised him, I sat in front of the mirror and began to apply eyeshadow, mascara and shining scarlet lipstick to my full, feminine lips, topping the whole look off with a blonde Halloween wig. From a momentary glance in the floor length mirror in my wife's closet door I could almost have been mistaken for her. It would only be by looking closer that anyone would realize that the hot babe in the reflection was really her dolled up husband.
With butterflies in my stomach, feeling tense, nervous but an excited anticipation, I stepped out of the bedroom and downstairs, walking heel-toe, clicking my shiny red heels on the stairs. I had been dressing in my wife's clothes for years, but never before revealed it to anyone. Now my eighteen year-old son, the big black stud all the high school girls wanted, was going to be the first to see. How would he react? I guess I was about to find out.
"Mom? I thought you were at work too..." Keenan began as I sashayed through the living room door in my wife's red and white floral print dress, "Oh... Oh God... Dad, it's you. What the hell?"
Realization dawned as I stepped closer. My heart skipped a beat with excitement as I realized that, at least momentarily, I had fooled my son into thinking that I was the hot MILF adoptive mother he lusted over. But now, as I stepped towards him, I could see him desperately trying to figure out just what was going on.
