Linda’s discovery – part 1b ( Incest stories for Adults only)
I didn’t hear from him until the following night. When I heard the phone ring, I knew it was him before even seeing the caller I.D. and my heart skipped a beat.
“Hi baby,” I answered, trying to hide the excitement in my voice.
“Is that always the way you answer the phone?” he laughed.
“Only when I know it is you,” I laughed back at him. “So – how was the party?”
He told me about the party and a few other mundane things that I would never be able to recall since the whole time I was wondering if he had unpacked his bag yet and seen the panties that I had hidden. We chatted for about 15 minutes and I was convinced – since he hadn’t said anything – that he must not have opened his bag.
As the conversation finally wound down he said “Uh, mom, I don’t know if you know this, but there was a pair of your panties in the things you brought me.”
“What?!?” I said, trying to sound surprised and alarmed. “What are you talking about?”
“It’s okay,” he laughed. “I just didn’t know if you even knew you were missing a pair and, if you had noticed, thought you might like to know that they weren’t lost.”
“Oh gosh,” I breathed, my face flushing. My plan was working even though he had no idea. “I guess I must have gotten them mixed up when I was washing your shirts to bring to you.”
“No problem,” he laughed again. “I didn’t know if you were trying to leave me a present or if it was an accident. I’ll just hang on to them until I come home.”
“Okay. Thanks,” I said, maybe a little too quickly. I could feel myself blushing furiously at what I had done and didn’t want him to catch on to my nervousness. “I’ll talk to you soon honey.”
We didn’t talk again for two days. I thought about him and my panties in every spare moment I had. I knew that he had to have smelled them, and tasted them. I so wish that I had the nerve to really talk to him about it. But maybe it was better this way – me knowing his secret and “innocently” helping him out.
When he called that Tuesday night the conversation again was about the ordinary events of our days. As we chatted I wondered to myself if he was holding the panties that I had left for him. Was it my imagination or was his breathing sounding somewhat ragged? Could it be that he was stroking himself with them while we chatted? I felt myself flush as we talked. Whether he was jerking off or not, the image was now in my head, and I was getting turned on.
“Is your roommate home tonight,” I asked, trying to control my breathing also.
“No, he went to the library for a couple of hours to study,” Mark said. It sounded like the phone was unusually close to his mouth. I could hear him breathing and it was having an effect on me.
“Um, baby, about those panties that I accidently put in your bag,” I started, hoping I didn’t sound guilty when I said the word ‘accidently.’ “I hope you didn’t show your roommate.”
“Gosh mom no,” he said, very sincerely. “Like I said, I just figured that it was either an accident or you were trying to give me a little present. Either way, it’s none of his business.”
I laughed. “Thank you, baby. It was an accident, but I’m not sure what you mean by a present. Would you think it was a present if I had done that on purpose?”
I started to unbutton my blouse and my shorts as I was asking. If he was going to jerk off while we talked, I didn’t see why I shouldn’t take care of myself at the same time.
“Well, you know…” Mark stammered. “Sometimes a girl will leave a pair of her panties for a guy as kind of a trophy or to… you know.”
“Masturbate with?” I couldn’t believe I had just said that to my own son – but I had, even as I stepped out of my shorts.
“Gosh mom,” Mark breathed into the phone. “Um, yeah… some guys like to have a girl’s underwear when they, you know, do that.”
I laid down on the couch now. I was naked except for the white thong that I had on. As I looked down to see my hand glide over them, I could see my flesh tones through the sheer material.
“I see,” I breathed back at him. “So… I am guessing you are one of those guys? That’s why you thought they might be a present.”
My hands were all over my body now. I didn’t even care if Mark could hear my ragged breathing over the phone – which I was still trying to control – but not having much success.
“Well, yeah, I guess. I do like it when a girl gives me her panties,” he said. Mark was having a hard time controlling his breathing now too.
“But what if it’s your mom that leaves them for you, baby? That doesn’t bother you?” I ran my hand over my own panties and could feel how wet they were.
“Hell no, mom,” Mark answered, his mouth closer to the phone now. “In fact, even better. There is no one that I am closer to. I love looking at them and touching them and…” His voice trailed off.
“And what baby? It’s okay. Tell me what you like about my – I mean a woman’s panties. You’re holding them right now, aren’t you? Tell me what you like about them,” I breathily said into the phone. God, I was hoping I wouldn’t scream into the phone in the midst of an orgasm while we were talking.
“I can’t mom,” he pleaded. “I don’t think it would be right.”
“Honey, you can tell me,” I said. Then, with a small laugh I said “There is nothing you’re going to tell me that I haven’t probably already done… or maybe doing right now,” I added in almost a whisper.
“I like smelling them. I actually love the way they smell. I can tell you were excited when you were wearing these, weren’t you mom?”
“Um, yes baby, I guess that I was. Sometimes even your old mom gets images in her head that turn her on.” Somehow speaking about myself to my son in the second person seemed to be less nasty. But my hands were inside my panties now rubbing my clit, my breathing increasingly choppy.
“I could tell,” he said. “I could see where you had gotten them wet with your pus… er… juices.”
“It’s okay honey,” I soothed. “I know you aren’t a virgin anymore and know about a girl’s pussy. It’s okay if you say it.” God – I was on fire. “You’re masturbating right now, aren’t you Mark? I can tell from your breathing… that you’re… jerking off.”
Then, in a whisper, “yes.”
“I’m glad you are enjoying them baby,” I whispered back.
As much as I wanted to hear him cum with my panties, I wasn’t sure if I was ready for him to hear me cum yet and I reluctantly thought that I had pushed it about as far as I ever would have thought possible even hours before.
“Mommy’s going to let you take care of yourself now baby,” I said soothingly. “We’ll talk again soon.”
With that I hung up and treated myself to the most intense orgasm of my life.
“Oh, my god,” I thought. “What am I doing?”
It had been three days since Mark and I had spoken and I had listened to him tell me he was masturbating with my panties while we talked. Needless to say, it was a conversation and memory that rarely left my consciousness in that time. It’s not like I hadn’t enjoyed it. In fact, that was part of the issue I was grappling with. I had enjoyed it. Further, as soon as we hung up, I had fingered myself to an incredible orgasm. Mom: imgur.com/v6lUvYO.jpg
Up until that point, I had been okay with masturbating while fantasizing about my son – because it was just that – a very naughty fantasy that only I (well, and my best friend, Anne) knew about.
But now I had let it progress to a new level. Shit, I had even encouraged it. It was one thing to tacitly know that Mark was masturbating thinking about me, but another to listen to him while he did it. To make it worse, I felt sure he knew that I was doing the same thing while we were talking. I was wracked with guilt. The only saving grace was that I had hung up before either one of us had cum. At least I had SOME sense of decency, I rationalized.
When Mark called that night I was still feeling guilty – but had resolved to address it with him and put a stop to any further inappropriate conversations between the two of us.
“Hi honey,” I answered, trying to set a somewhat serious tone off the bat.
“Hey gorgeous,” he said cheerfully. “Long time, no chat.”
“Mark, before we chat anymore, I want to talk about the other night,” I said sternly. “I love you and love that you and I can talk about anything – but our conversation last Tuesday was not the kind of conversation any mother should have with her son. I just want you to know that I’m sorry that I encouraged it and it won’t happen again.”
There was a brief silence on the other end of the line. I hoped I hadn’t come across as judgmental of him.
“Mark? Baby? Are you there?” I asked, this time my tone was softer.
“Yeah mom, I’m here,” he said. I tried to read into his voice what he was thinking but I couldn’t.
“Geez mom, I hear what you are saying. But I guess I have a different take on it,” he explained. “I loved that we were able to talk like that to each other. I can’t tell you how hot it was for me and how much I ca–, um, enjoyed it after we hung up.”
“Honey, that’s not what I’m saying…” I interrupted.
“I know mom,” he said before I could go on. “I know it may seem weird for most mom and sons, but it seemed okay for us is all I am trying to say. I love you mom. And I want to be able to talk to you about anything, even if it is about sex. Actually, especially if it is about sex. Who better to talk to when I have questions about things like that than your mom or dad?” he reasoned.
I knew he was rationalizing, at least somewhat, but he was also hitting a soft spot with me. Since his dad had left, it was just him and me. I knew that I was probably over-protective, but I also knew that I had to fill the role of both mom and dad in his life, since his own dad spent less and less time with him as the years went by.
“But honey,” I said, trying to gain control of the conversation again, “it’s one thing for us to talk about things like sex and masturbation, and it’s another for us to listen to each other as we do it.”
“Gosh mom, you were playing with yourself too?” he asked, obviously excited.
Uh oh, I thought. I knew that I had accidently confirmed what I thought he already knew. How was I going to get out of this? I quickly decided to try the clinical, honest approach.
“Well, yes,” I offered, somewhat unsteadily. “Guys aren’t the only ones that masturbate. We all do from time to time.”
“See mom?” he said kind of laughing, “That’s the kind of thing I am talking about. I know that everyone does it, but I guess I never actually thought that you did it too. I mean I guess I never thought of you in that way and it’s kind of nice that now I know you weren’t mad at me.”
I could feel whatever upper hand that I was trying to achieve was quickly disappearing. But I also needed him to know that I loved him no matter how I felt about what we had done just a few days before.
“Honey, I think you are missing what I am trying to say,” I said. “Of course I wasn’t mad. And you know that there is nothing that you could do that would ever change my love for you. It’s just that I thought the other night crossed some imaginary line in my mind that a mom shouldn’t cross with her son. Does that make sense?”
There was silence on the other end of the line for what seemed like a long time – but it was probably only a few seconds.
“I guess,” Mark finally said. “But does that mean you don’t want me to ask you about things I wonder about when it comes to sex?”
“No. Of course not,” I said, trying to sound motherly. “You know that I will always be just a phone call away if you need me.” And then, trying to lighten the mood, I laughed “But maybe you can try and keep your hands off yourself while we are talking.”
Mark laughed too. “Okay,” he said. “I’ll try.”
We began to chat about his classes, his fraternity, and his friends. I filled him in on some of the neighborhood gossip and it felt like I had my friend back again. He was funny and charming. Before we hung up, he asked me if he could ask one more question about sex that he had been thinking about since our last conversation. I told him I would be glad to answer if I could.
“Well,” he started, seeming as if he was searching for the right words, “now that I’ve told you that I like playing with your panties when I… well, you know…”
I smiled at his struggle to try to not cross over the line. “It’s okay honey, you can say ‘masturbate’,” I laughed.
Mark kind of laughed too. “Okay, when I masturbate. But is that weird? That I like to do it with my own mom’s panties? I mean I know that Tom does it too. He and I have talked about it. But I wondered if you thought I was some sort of freak or something?”
“Honey, I didn’t think you were ‘a freak’ when we were talking the other night, and I still don’t. In fact, the more I thought about it, the more I could understand how that might feel good to a guy. Does that answer your question?”
“Yeah, it does. But I thought of one more,” he laughed.
“Okay, one more,” I laughed too.
“Well, you said earlier that you were… um… masturbating too. I mean when we were talking the other night,” he said. “Does that mean that it turned you on to think of me… you know… jerking off with your panties?”
Oh god, I thought. How do I answer this? If I said no, he would know I was lying. But if I said yes, well, that didn’t seem like the kind of thing a mother should say to her son. So I tried to be evasive.
“I’ll just say that you caught me at a vulnerable moment,” I tried.
“Come on mom,” Mark begged. “Be honest.”
I was stuck and didn’t know what to say so I said nothing for a few seconds, trying to figure out how to answer.
Mark filled in the silence. “If I told you that I was holding your panties right now and every now and then while we have been talking, that I had smelled them, would that make you… you know, ‘vulnerable’ again?”
Again, I could feel my nipples harden. And I squirmed in my chair. I didn’t say anything, but I knew Mark could hear my breathing quicken, despite my trying to control it.
“Do you think it’s weird that I love to hold my own mom’s panties to my face and smell them? And taste them?” he asked, his breathing more shallow now too. “Does that bother you mom? Knowing how much I love holding them while I am jerking off?”
I could only think of one thing to say. “No,” I whispered.
“I’m glad mom,” he breathed into the phone. “I want you to know how much I love holding them while we talk. It makes me feel closer to you, like you are sharing something very intimate with me.”
Even though I knew it was wrong, I couldn’t help my own body’s reaction to hearing my son describe how my lingerie excited him. My hand involuntarily ran over my breast. I could feel how hard my nipples were through my t-shirt. Then my hand traveled down my stomach toward my shorts. I wanted to stop, but couldn’t help myself. I knew that he was masturbating with the panties that I had purposely put into his bag. I knew that the thought of him smelling my scent on them was the source of endless fantasies that I had been living with for weeks now. Hearing his voice while we both played out the fantasy in our heads did seem intimate… and even more powerful than when I was in bed alone at night. All pictures: http://bit.ly/H0tmOm
“I’m… I’m glad that you feel that way, baby,” I finally said. “If they make you feel closer to me, then I am glad that you have them. Maybe we better hang up now.”
“Please don’t hang up mom,” he pleaded. “I want to talk to you… to hear you while I… while I jerk off.”
“But baby, we just talked about this. I don’t know if this is right,” I tried, sounding unconvincing even to myself.
“Please mom, you know that what I am doing with your panties right now, don’t you,” he asked.
“Yes,” I whispered, my hand unsnapping my shorts and taking the zipper down.
“Are you ‘vulnerable’ tonight mom?” he said in a low tone, speaking closely into the phone. “I want you to tell me this time. Are you touching yourself?”
My mind raced. I could picture him with his hard cock out, working his hand up and down, holding my panties around it. I wanted to hang up and end this conversation… but I couldn’t. I was too turned on. My hand reached my pussy and it was on fire. My clit was hard and I rubbed my middle finger over it in a circle. I cradled the phone against my shoulder and with my other hand pulled on my nipple.
I answered slowly, suddenly finding it difficult to breathe. “Is that what you want? Do you want me to touch my pussy while you talk to me? While you… jerk off?”
I didn’t know who this person was that was talking to her own son like this, but – at the moment – I didn’t care. I was so wet that I knew it would only be moments before I would cum. And to make it even worse, I didn’t even care if Mark was going to hear me.
“Oh god,” Mark moaned. “Yes, I would love it if you were doing it with me mom. God, I am so hard thinking about you touching your pussy. Is it wet mom? Is it as wet as it was when you were wearing these panties?”
“Mmmm,” I moaned. “Yes baby, mommy is wet. Very wet. And my clit is hard right now too. I could cum any time now. Do you want to hear mommy cum, baby? Would you like that?”
I could hear Mark breathing in shorter and shallower gasps now and I knew he was close to cumming too.
“Yes mommy, cum for me,” he gasped.
My eyes closed I pictured Mark with my panties near his face, inhaling my scent, and then sticking his tongue out and taking the crotch of the panties into his mouth, trying to taste me through them. My finger worked my clit furiously now and I felt it get even bigger. I arched my back and plunged a finger in, then another, ramming them in and out.
“Aaaahhh,” I gasped, as my head flew back and the phone dropped to the carpet below. I was lost in my own orgasm and didn’t even notice the phone on the floor until I started returning to a state of consciousness. I quickly picked it up.
“I’m sorry, baby, are you still there? I dropped the phone,” I said, my breathing ragged.
“God mom, that was so hot,” he said. “I don’t think I have ever cum that hard.”
“Me, neither baby,” I said, still struggling to gain my breath and composure. “I think we better hang up now. I need to get ready for bed.”
“Okay mom, and thanks,” he said, also obviously out of breath, “I hope we can do this again.”
“We’ll see,” I blushed. “Goodnight honey.”
Parent Post: Linda’s discovery – part 1
- Linda's discovery - part 1b
- Linda's discovery - part 2a
- Linda's discovery - part 2b
- Linda's discovery - part 3a
- Linda's discovery - part 3b