Chapter Two – Meeting Mother’s Friends
Richard Carter awoke with a raging hardon which had been the case ever since puberty. He reached under the pillow and took out his mother’s panties and pantyhose that he had filched from the laundry basket yesterday. After her friends had left last night he was going to blow his load into them while watching his mother through the peephole in the connecting wall. He would watch her undress and hopefully use the vibrator but he’d gone to bed angry instead.
He draped the gauzy nylon over his cock and inhaled the scent of his mother’s vaginal juices in the crotch of her panties and gave his cock a gentle rub. The slippery smooth nylons felt delightful against the sensitive flesh of his penis.
He suddenly had an idea and leapt from his bed, the pantyhose dangling from his cock like a limp diaphanous flag and opened the wardrobe and removed the knot in the back wall and pressed his eye to it.
Richard was too late. Emily was fully dressed and was smoothing the wrinkles out of her nylons, placing one foot up the chair then the other to facilitate the act. As much as Richard liked watching his mother fiddle with her stockings it was hardly a masturbatory gem. He gave his cock a couple of desultory strokes and lost interest when his mother walked out the door. The nylons and panties went into the cache in the hidey-hole.
He arrived at the breakfast table freshly showered and wearing casual clothes which earned him a reproachful grimace.
“How long are you going to hang around my house moping Richard? I told you what to do. Take that pouting, spoiled, limpet of a wife of yours to a marriage councillor or just knock some sense into her. In my day women did not disobey their husbands,” Emily looked up at her son over the brim of her coffee cup.
“Well daddy didn’t stick around long enough to teach me that did he. He died when I was ten. Did daddy knock sense into you mom? You certainly recovered well enough after he died,” Richard regretted saying it as soon as the words left his mouth.
“You don’t know what your daddy did to me and never will. I was a good wife and a good mom and I’ve done the best I could for you since your father died,” Emily replied, tears forming in the corners of her eyes.
This was always his mother’s defence. She had done the best she could, which was a lot. Richard owed his existence, his education and his livelihood to her and she always found subtle ways to remind him. The apron strings were never far away.
“Another thing mother. What was Susan Connaught’s snide remark about me taking her pantyhose all about? What have you told your friends about me?” Richard barked.
“Women gossip, Richard. When you were a boy we gossiped about our husbands and our children and about each other,” Emily sipped her coffee and then continued.
“Women our age had nothing else to gossip about back then. There was no internet or twenty-four hour news cycle or Real Housewives. We tended to the house, tended to our children and made our husband’s happy. The lucky ones had a few spare minutes during the day to watch soaps,” Emily carefully put her cup down in the saucer and turned the handle to the precise angle that decorum dictated.
“Of course when we’d had a few too many libations we spoke about things that we considered a little spicy. Bedroom things. You know what I mean,” Richard watched his mother blush.
“Your father and I held pool parties regularly back when your father was alive. Do you remember them?” Emily brightened suddenly as she recalled ‘the good old days’.
Richard nodded.
“The men stood around the barbeque drinking and telling jokes. We wives knew the jokes were lewd. We wore tight bathing suits; the more adventurous wore bikinis and we knew the men were looking at us and comparing notes so we did the same and compared our husbands’ performances,” the colour returned to Emily’s face.
“Then when your father was gone, I had no stories to tell,” Emily sighed.
The truth was Emily would never tell anyone about what really went on in their bedroom on Fridays nights. She moderated her stories accordingly and of course she would tell none of her friends that their husbands used to sit in Buddy’s study watching videos of her and Buddy fucking.
“What has that got to with Susan Connaught bringing up the story of me supposedly stealing her pantyhose?” Richard sulked.
“Well I no longer had spicy stories to tell the girls about your father and me. By then you were in college and us girls were talking about our sons and daughters. Susan Connaught told us she had walked into her son’s bedroom one day and found him masturbating whilst sniffing a pair of her panties,” Emily’s face reddened.
“We all laughed. We’d been drinking and I blurted out that I knew that you had a thing for my nylons. That I’d found semen stains in them and as you were the only man in the house that it must have been yours,” Emily said steadfastly.
It was Richard’s turn to blush.
“All of our sons and daughters were grown up, and as mothers are want to do, we were curious about our children’s sex lives. Steven Longmire had knocked up his girlfriend and they had to get married. Elspeth was furious because Steven was only nineteen and she blamed Willy for not teaching him properly about the birds and the bees. Silvia Swanson suspected that her daughter was gay because she caught her kissing another girl,” Emily poured herself a second cup of coffee.
“So you old women sit around reminiscing about your sex lives and when that becomes boring you talk about your offspring’s sex lives,” Richard said in an accusatory tone.
“I will not be spoken to that way in my own home Richard,” Emily pushed back her chair, stood up and smoothed her skirt.
“And as you obviously do not intend to go to work again today you can find something useful to do around the house,” she sniffed.
“Robert Stevenson is looking after the Mirfield Ford dealerships while I try to get my life sorted out. He’s more than competent,” Richard retorted.
“He’s likely doing a better job,” Emily sniped back as she snatched up her handbag.
“By the way Richard, please return the pantyhose and panties you stole from the laundry yesterday. I thought you were done with that now that you have a wife,” Emily gave her son a gracious smile and left him sitting speechless with his mouth open.
Richard was so dumbfounded that he forgot to watch his mother’s rounded ass shimmy from side to side in her tight skirt or take in the grandeur of her long legs sheathed in shimmering tan nylons as she strode out of the kitchen on her four-inch Louboutin's.
“Fuck!” Richard shouted into the empty house.
