I was convinced back then in my teens that nobody jerked off as much as I did. Once I learned how to do it I was a madman. Three, four, even a personal best seven times in one day. In the 70’s there wasn’t the internet and porn mags were not easy to get. Basically, jerk-off material was hard to find. Believe me, I jacked off to anything even remotely arousing. Thank goodness for the Sears catalog women’s underwear section!

I had my own room next to mom’s in our small apartment but would usually pleasure myself in the bathroom after mom was in bed. It was more private as it was down the hall and away from her bedroom. Although mom was a reliable office worker during the day, the first thing she did upon returning home would be to make a vodka martini. That’s what she called it but I never saw a bottle of vermouth. It was pretty much a glass of cheap vodka and ice, one after the other. My mother was never a mean or nasty drunk. If anything she was overly sweet. Another middle-aged woman self-medicating in her painful and private world. Unlike some other things I’ve read, mom was never flirty when she was drunk, just talked slowly and sweet while slurring her words. Around 9pm she was usually out cold on the couch or would just stumble into her room and pass out on the bed, mumbling a “Goodnight Sweetie” on her way. Amazingly enough, despite the long days at work and all the drinking, she was always up and ready for work the next day. 

Just as mom had her routine, I had mine. When she was asleep it was my time to gather whatever cum stiffened erotic material I had and head for the bathroom to relieve some pressure. This particular night was like any other. My underwear was around my ankles and I was sitting on the closed lid of the toilet with my dick in my hand, leaning back, fervently stroking myself to the point of orgasm then backing off before I shot my load. This made me super horny and if I did this a few times, I would cum in huge spurts. Sometimes cum would shoot over my head and onto the wall behind me. (Those were the days!) However, on this particular night, I happened to catch a glimpse of the overflowing wicker laundry basket under the bathroom sink. Mom did laundry regularly but sometimes let it go an extra day. Through the mesh of the basket and under the pile of towels and the work clothes I saw her wearing that day was a pair of light pink panties. I sat there for a second staring at them. “Holy shit.” Suddenly, a rush of arousal and lust I had never experienced came upon me in a wave that couldn’t possibly be resisted. I was in no position to negotiate with my rational mind. There were no boundaries on this night.

At that time, mom was in her forties, 5’5”, dark brown eyes, rail thin like she was in her youth and a pleasant but serious demeanor. Her small breasts, square shoulders and nice hips suited her frame. There was some European blood in our family and her shoulder-length hair was shiny and black. A few stray grays were always her nemesis. A stranger would consider her attractive but not stunning. Some men were interested but mom never brought them home if she dated. Maybe she never quite got over my father leaving us when I was just three or maybe it was just indifference. I will never know. To me she was lovely and was glad there wasn’t a man in her life. In my young heart mom was all mine.

As most sons do, I thoroughly checked out my mom from top to bottom while growing up. I loved her dearly. Rarely but not entirely by accident, I would sneak a glimpse of her boobs while she changed out of her work clothes and into her duster after she got home. Mom would be talking casually to me as she did this in a loud voice assuming that I was on the couch watching tv but I never was. I was standing out of view outside her door being more curious than devious. I missed her and wanted to be near her when she got home. However, my hormones would prod me to peek around the open door. Sometimes I saw her in her panties while she changed. I remember the stolen glances of her black bush through the sheer nylon material and of her small breasts and dark nipples. Eventually, she became more shy as I got older and began to close the door. Mom probably knew I was looking a little too much.

So there I was in the bathroom, my hard cock in hand and a pair of worn pink panties a few feet away. It really didn’t take long to give in to my raging hormones. Thinking about what I was about to do, my heart pounded. With my shorts around my ankles, I shuffled over and hastily dug down into the pile of dirty clothes, and there they were. I paused for a second and exhaled. “Holy shit.” Slowly and with sudden reverence, I pulled them out with two fingers and sat back down on the closed seat of the toilet.

With my two hands literally shaking in excitement, I held them up in front of me for inspection. I was so turned on by how naughty this was. Mom was not a big woman but her panties seemed small for her. They were stretchy nylon material in a pale pink. In the crotch, there was a sliver of white cotton material. “This is where mom’s pussy was all day,” I remember thinking. When she walked or sat her pussy and ass were right there pressing on the very fabric I had in my hands. Oh, how I envied that cotton panel. My cock was so hard that when I brought that cotton crotch to my nose I nearly came right then. Closing my eyes I inhaled deeply. This was my mother's most intimate smell. Powdery but with a faint, intense, underlying bouquet. I sniffed where her ass pressed against the nylon. It smelled deeper and more intense than where her pussy rested. An aroma a son was never supposed to know. I even licked the dried salty white stain in the crotch. It became soaking wet with my saliva and released an intimate potion on my tongue. This was sensory overload. I stroked myself into an intoxicating orgasm rivaled by no other.

I was drunk in fantasy while I sucked and smelled the crotch of my own mother’s panties. Convulsing in a deep orgasm in rhythm with my stroking hand, cum sprayed on and over my shoulder, onto my chest, my face, my thighs, and splashed on her panties. My mind was swimming in a burst of endorphins and hormones. When I came back to reality a minute later, I opened my eyes and surveyed the situation. “Oh my God,” I said aloud softly and out of breath. I wasn’t concerned about the cum on the wall or on me. What freaked me out was that mom’s panties were soaking wet in the crotch from my saliva and splashed with my cum. Now what! 

I went into damage control mode, or so I thought. A million ideas came to mind but I just wiped her panties off with my bath towel and put them back in the same spot midway in the laundry basket. Mom did laundry after work so I figured she would be bit tipsy and hopefully not notice their condition. That’s what I was hoping for anyway. She couldn’t know what I did. How could I ever explain this if she asked me about it? Resigning myself to a few days of anxiety, I cleaned up the bathroom like a criminal hiding a crime scene. After a shower, I surveyed my cleaning job and turned to leave the room. Before I shut the bathroom light off, I paused and with a wry grin glanced once again towards the laundry pile. I wondered what would be waiting for me there in the future. I would be sure to check.

(To be continued….)