The Laundry Room

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In my overheated hormonal state of tumescence, arousal and just plain horniness I totally missed all the noises that signaled the arrival of someone in the house.

It was my mother. Now, normally that is no big deal. Normally. But today was anything but normal. I was in the laundry room wearing her bra and panties, a garter belt and stockings. Prancing around, acting like a girl in my imagination, and just plain enjoying the feeling of intense sexual arousal that flooded my senses when dressed this way. I had been doing this for about six months now and at nineteen was able to masturbate and spurt five or six times in the afternoon and early evening.

I used these times being dressed to fuel my imagination when I was in bed to get off another time or two. I often imagined my mother watching me and giving me a pair of her panties to sniff while she sat in a chair across from where I stood masturbating. Her legs were spread apart and I could see her panty crotch pulled tight across her pussy, a slight area of wetness showing and highlighted by the camel toe appearance of her panties.

What a turn on. As I thought of this, standing looking in the full length mirror hung on the back of the door mersin escort and aided by the small wall mirror that I had placed on the floor so I could look up between my legs for extra effect, a pair of panties on my head so I could smell and lick the crotch of my mothers panties and another pair wrapped around my pink steel the door behind me swings open. I see in the mirror, my mother, a look of complete surprise, confusion and concern on her beautiful face.

I didn’t get all this right then, but on retrospect as I write this story, I now understand.

I am in complete shock. As is my mother. We are both too stunned to say anything. She opens her mouth and says.” Oh, Vinny,” and just then I start to spurt, moaning and jerking as my balls force great globs of semen into her panties. I am horrified, mortified and just plain beyond any physical control of what is happening. You all know what I am talking about. Once started it does not stop until done. I must say that her standing there watching me added to the thrill. The illicit nature of the act of wearing her clothes adds so much to the experience and to have her standing there comes so very close kocaeli escort to fulfilling my masturbatory fantasies ….. Well, what can I say? She is stunned, I am falling against the washer and drier, barely able to stand, holding my cock in one hand and pressing her panties against my face with the other.

As my orgasm trails off my sense of embarrassment begins to return, a modicum of control begins to assert itself somewhere in my brain and the humiliation of being caught causes my already shaky knees to start to collapse. I’m afraid I may fall. My mother sees this and rushes over to catch me, throwing her arms around me, pressing her breasts against me, pulling the now soaked panties to her body and putting my panty covered face next to hers.

“Oh, my Vinny”, she says, in an almost normal voice.

I don’t know what to do. I am stopped from collapsing, and now only want to disappear into the floor or the machines or anyplace except here. I am absolutely mortified and trapped in my mother’s arms, both exhilarated and scared and embarrassed, and strangely sexually aroused again.

“Oh, Vinny” she says again. “Its all right honey, samsun escort don’t worry”, she almost croons, “mommy is here, and it’s all right, don’t worry”.

To say that at this point I am dumbfounded would be an understatement. Here I am, dressed in my mother’s bra, panties and garter belt with stockings, wearing her panties on my head, which is now being pressed against hers, my hand caught between us in the embrace still holding my growing cock inside her cum soaked panties, I don’t’ know what to do. Obviously there is no place to hide, nor is there any need to hide. Besides, how do I free myself form my mothers loving and comforting hug, and not seem churlish and rejecting of my mothers love. This is much better than screams of horror that I would have expected in this circumstance.

My back is against the machines as my mother takes her hands and places them on my shoulders backing away and looking at me. Shame and guilt and humiliation again flood my senses. She reaches over the gap between the laundry table behind her and picks up one of her housecoats. Since we are about the same size her clothes fit rather well.

“Here, put this on and come in to the kitchen. I’ll make some tea and we’ll talk, OK?”

Like I have a choice, but I ask, “Dressed like this?”

“Of course, honey, just like that it’s OK, don’t worry, it’s OK.”

“Well, take the panties off your head, but nothing else.”

I follow her to the kitchen and sit down. What follows is another tale.

Vinny in pantiesl13.07

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