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A few years back, I started to discover several pairs of my panties in my son’s hamper when I was gonna do laundry. They were obviously used and very messy and I honestly didn’t know how to react.

This was before we were intimate with each other the way we are now, if you’re at all familiar with my post history.

Anyway.

In the end I did nothing and hoped that he wouldn’t do it again, that it was just kind of a one-time thing, something he did out of curiosity and that I wouldn’t need to talk to his father about it.

His father was a very abusive man who I have since left, but I was heavily under his control back in those days, which meant I at all times reported everything that went on in our house back to him.

Unfortunately, that was a foolish hope and of course my panties kept popping up in his hamper, all sticky and wet. And the longer I didn’t say anything to him or my ex-husband about it, the harder it became to say anything at all.

I mean, if I didn’t say anything the first time I saw, why would I object the third time? Or the fourth? Or the tenth?

But as more time passed and I kept quiet, I realized something.

I wasn’t truly bothered or disturbed by it.

Maybe it helped that I was fighting more and more with his father, but I realized I liked the wondered of my son finding me sexy and desirable—because my ex-husband sure as hell wasn’t showing me any positive attention or affection, that was for sure.

I finally broke down and talked to my son and made a deal with him. I told him he didn’t have to go into my room or through my dirty laundry anymore.

Instead, I’d leave some of my panties in his room every morning for him to enjoy.

It was a proposition that left him pretty speechless to say the least.

From that moment onward, instead of throwing my panties in the hamper when I showered in the morning, I’d leave them in his room just as promised.

I even rationalized it to myself by thinking that this way I wouldn’t have to buy so much tissue and he wouldn’t stain any of his nice clothes. In hindsight, it wasn’t entirely rational, but at the same time, things were getting rather vicious between my ex-husband and I and this was sort of my release, my way of still feeling good about myself and desirable.

Then things finally fell aside between my ex and I and we got divorced. It wasn’t a good divorce: a lot of bitter resentment on both sides came out, we fought constantly and viciously, contested every single part of the paperwork, all that nasty stuff.

I admit, I sort of fell aside when it was all said and done and I was sort of a zombie, too.

I’d go to work, come home, zone out around the house, go to bed, rinse and repeat.

My son took care of me during those dark days since his brother was newly out of the house. He had to really push me to keep it together and, during that time, the whole “leaving dirty panties in his room” thing more or less came to an abrupt end.

I snapped out of it when I came home from work early one day and caught him and some girl going at it on our couch. She was topless, he had his pants off and I saw a lot of things while they were embarrassed and scrambling around.

She basically ran out of the house as fast as she could in barely any clothing and he told me later that she was so embarrassed by it all that she broke up with him because she couldn’t bear the wondered of ever seeing me again.

After she was gone and he was more presentable, we talked.

Initially about dating and safe sex, al that jazz, but the conversation wandered and at one point he made a opinion about her panties and how mine were much sexier.

That got us talking about our ol “me leaving my panties in his room” routine and he said he missed having that special “bonding” to connect us. I confessed to him that I missed it as well.

Since I had worn a dress to work that day in order to get more tips, part of me felt like there was no time like the present to begin again, so I gave him my panties right then and there.

He was stunned and started to go to his room, but then he decided there was no time like the present, took a seat in the loveseat directly across from me, dropped his pants and used my panties right then and there while I sat and watched.

The next few days were somewhat awkward…and yet, I also somehow felt like I was a horny teenager again. For about a week straight he’d jerked off in front of me and come in my panties while looking me straight in the eyes. And sure, I encouraged it, but at the same time, this was my son, this was way beyond me just leaving my panties in his room.

He didn’t quite know how to act around me, I didn’t know how to react around him, but after a week, I couldn’t stop thinking about it.

I had to act.

So, I went to his room to give him my panties while he was home and of course he ended up letting me watch him again.

This quickly became the norm for us.

I’d come home from work, quickly change, give him my panties and watch him jerking off with them.
It turned me on more and more and I started touching myself while I watched, and that quickly escalated into me masturbating while he watched.

So that’s how it started.

Eventually, we’d just sit on the couch, get off together and talk about how hot we both found the other. I was happy but also terrified to do more than watch.

Hell, the one time he accidentally came on me, I panicked. It was hot, but it was also more than I was comfortable with at the time.

I still encouraged him to date, to go out with girls. To be a typical senior in high college. A few times he’d ask me for help with them and I would spy on him and his girlfriends and see how they enjoyed each other. We’d talk about it while we got off together later—different techniques he could use to make them feel better, tips for going down on them, stuff like that.

But still.

We remained on our own designated sides of the couch and just watched each other. I was nervous to do more, even as I was telling him how much of a turn on it was to see him having sex with a girl his age.

I did eventually grow more comfortable with the wondered of doing more than just watching, but I was also scared to do anything. He told me later he was scared as well and was worried about ruining things if he tried to do more. We both knew we had a pretty non-typical relationship, but we were also a little worried about how things might mutate and change if we kept crossing lines.

Then it was his birthday.

I decided that as his “real” present from me, I could at least touch him. That would be okay. That would be fine. Just…touching.

My original plan was to jerk him off with my panties, give him a handjob and maybe let him cum on me. That was the plan, but it went right out of the window the second I wrapped my hand around my panties and felt his gigantic cock throb beneath them.

A handjob quickly turned into a blowjob which quickly turned into me begging him to fuck me raw and crying and telling him how much I loved him as he eventually came in me.

We did both have a few moments of freaking out immediately after the fact, but we also both quickly got over it and spent the rest of his birthday weekend in bed together playing and enjoying each other even more.

It was the beginning of a long and very fruitful relationship.

NSFW: yes

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