Jacob lay back on his bed, holding his prize up before his face: his mother's pantyhose, stolen from her laundry basket. He reached into his briefs and eased out his swelling, thickening cock. He was going to take it slow and savour this rarity: the still-warm, freshly-soiled sheer black nylon treasure. He began with the feet, inhaling the scent of where her sweaty soles had been trapped inside her shoes all day at work. Jacob was by no means a "foot-guy" but just the intense intimacy was enough to stiffen his cock to its full size. He was stroking its length as he gently pulled the soft smooth material over his face, his wide nostrils drawing in his mother's secret scents.
When he reached her damp sticky gusset he felt his heart rate increase and his cock throb in his fingers. He had a date with Melanie (one of his mother's friends) tomorrow night and he was thinking, ungallantly some might say, of how hard he was going fuck her... use her body while he imagined the body of his curvy, cheeky, gorgeous Mom. Wanking harder, Jacob stretched out his tongue and tasted the hot spicy juices soaked into the fabric...
Down the hall Jacob's mother lay on her own bed, next the snoring bloated hulk of her loveable but unexciting husband, and let her fingers trail just inside her sloppy pussy-lips; she was not, definitely not, imagining her fingertips were the tongue of her young beautiful son. True, he had described in excruciatingly arousing detail his pussy-eating technique but... to think about his mouth and tongue and lips pressing on her dirty cunt... well that? That would be wrong. So wrong! So she couldn't possibly be thinking that.
She forced her mind elsewhere as two of her fingers began to pump in and out of her pulsating slit: her so-called friend, Mel! That cow! How dare she sneak around screwing her boy like that, getting her rocks off with his tight young body, kissing him, touching him, spreading her skinny, ugly legs and making him feed on her straggly minge, the bitch! Why does she get to come... Janey climaxed in a fury of jealousy and horny anger.
She lay gasping, her mind racing, her wet hair sticking to her forehead. Her juices soaking a damp spot under her ass. She was ashamed and unashamed. She sniffed her sexy scent on her fingers. She felt guilty and scared at her own deviant desires. Janey licked her fingers clean and decided to fall asleep, allowing her unrestricted dream-self to roam free in the darkest corners of her imagination.
The next evening Janey was pottering around in the kitchen, playing the good housewife after her pervy mind had betrayed all her wholesome ethics, morals she previously believed were embedded in concrete. Her world was turning upside-down and she was baking a pie, hoping something so normal, so mum-sy, would reinforce her stable position in the family, in society, in the world.
Her husband had already gone off to bed so she was sitting alone, sipping tea as the baked pie cooled next to her, when Jacob returned home. She forced her brain NOT to think about where he'd been (with her friend of many years) and what they'd been doing... she watched him as he walked in and thought, "Of course I don't fancy my own son, it was just a ridiculous, fleeting, mad moment of fantasy. Perfectly normal and perfectly stupid. It would be silly to dwell on it. Pay no attention to-" Jacob leaned in close and hugged her and the smell of pussy on his face hit Janey like a sledgehammer. In an instant her tummy was turning somersaults, her panties were dampening.
"Shit." she whispered.
"What, Mom?"
"Nothing. Nice night?"
"Yeah sure. Ooooh can I eat some pie?"
"Huh? Of course. Check it's not too hot first." Janey pretended to yawn, said she was going to bed and left in a daze.
Later,just before drifting off to sleep, Jacob lay in bed and reflected happily on his glorious life. Yet to begin college and all that pressure. A sexy older woman to fuck with none of the bullshit drama that girls of his age bring. Secret masturbation sessions his mother's dirty undies. No rent, no problems, no worries. He had it pretty sweet. There was a soft knock at his door. He opened his eyes. Had he imagined it? His door opened slowly. A shadowy figure entered and asked, "Jakey-boy, you awake?"
"Mom? Are you okay?"
"No. Actually.I'm not." Janey closed the door and crossed the room to stand by his bed. From his horizontal position he imagined he could see, just below the long tee-shirt Janey wore as a nightie, that she was knicker-less. He leaned over and switched on his lamp and was rewarded with the wondrous image of his mother's dark brown bush peeking out from under the blue cotton hem, and just below her fluffy pubes, her pussy lips glistened. Then he became aware of the smell, the residual fragrance left upon the material of her underwear was nothing compared to the primal, fresh, incredible scent now turning his mind to blancmange.
