Heike Frame was sorting through the laundry basket and loading the washing machine when she suddenly paused. She held up a pair of her panties and gazed at them curiously. The last time she recalled seeing them was when she had removed them and dropped them into the laundry basket a couple of weeks back. When she came to do the wash they were missing, so how did they come to be in the basket now?
She shrugged and was about to drop them into the machine when something caught her eye. There were several whitish dried stains on the panties, and puzzled she sniffed one of the stains. She didn't need to be an Einstein to work out what they were, she'd smelt that smell long ago.
"How is it possible for sperm to have got onto the panties?" she pondered. She hadn't had sex for -- well she couldn't remember for how long because the last time had been so long ago. In any case it had been her habit not to put her panties on immediately after sexual intercourse; she had always waited until she was sure she had removed all the sperm from her vagina and surrounds; "so how?"
Enlightenment came. Of course it was obvious: there was only one other person in the household; only one who could have filched a pair of her panties; only one person who could have given them the sperm stains; her son Roderick. He'd been sniffing her panties and ejaculating into them, "The randy young devil!" she muttered.
She stood wondering what she should do about it, if anything. After all, pantry sniffing was not uncommon and often served as an aphrodisiac, inspiring further action on the part of the sniffer, even if it was only ejaculating into them.
Heike suddenly smiled. It was something of a compliment that a son wanted to sniff his mother's panties and spurt his come on them. Obviously the panties were a substitute for the mother, thus indicating that the sniffer really wanted to fuck the owner of the panties.
Heike recalled an article on psychology she had once read; "Displacement, that's what it's called, now what did the article say?" She thought for a moment; ah yes, "A defence mechanism that transfers affect or reaction from the original object to some more acceptable one."
She was the "original object" and the panties were the "more acceptable one."
She was puzzled. Why hadn't she detected this in Rod? If he was really sexually attracted to her it surely must have shown. "Perhaps," she thought, "we see what we expect to see and not what is really there." After all she had brought him up from birth and suffered his irritability during puberty, and of course she had seen the erections that seem to come unbidden, they were to be expected in a boy passing through that stage, but she hadn't connected those erections with a desire for her.
Her thoughts gave her own conscience a nudge. Hadn't she frequently wished she was nineteen years younger and not his mother? He was just the sort of guy she would have liked to have a relationship with and perhaps even marry. As it was she had made a disastrous mistake letting that slob Lenny fuck her B.R. (Before Roderick).
It had been fine until she announced her pregnancy, and the bastard had disappeared, dissolved like a puff of smoke, never to be heard of again. The result was that she and Rod had managed without a man in their lives.
That was not completely true. There had been a few one night stands for Heike but they had come to nothing because Rod had kicked up such a fuss the guys wouldn't stay.
That was another point; the fuss that Rod kicked up every time it looked as if some man might take a long term interest in his mother should have told her something. It was jealousy; Rod couldn't bear having to share her with someone else.
Heike sighed, wishing she had been more alert, more sensitive, but she hadn't expected her son to be sexually attracted to her.
Having berated herself for her lack of insight she went on to silently berate Rod. Why hadn't he made it more obvious that he was sexually attracted to her? She felt frustrated and angry. If he had made it clear what he wanted they might have...but no; mother and son, it might get too complicated and she'd had enough of sexual complications.
On the other hand she did not feel averse to at least a sexual encounter with Rod. She was almost twice his age but that didn't seem to matter these days. Young guys were now appreciating the giving nature of older women, and the older women enjoyed the potency of youth. Some were even getting married.
She thought about herself. Was she still attractive enough to hold a young guy?
She was thirty eight; her breasts were still in good shape, her legs had always been one of her best features, and if she was a little plump around the waistline a lot of guys like their women that way. Her hair...yes...too soon for the grey to appear and if there were early indications of lines, well, that was a sign of maturity.
With all this she came back to where she had started. Rod had been sniffing her panties and coming into them, and that was a sign he was attracted to her, otherwise it would have been some other woman's panties he sniffed.
Caught between confronting him or letting the matter drop she finally decided she must say something to Rod. He was home, and there was no time like the present. She made her way to his room.
* * * * * * * *
Outside the door to his room Heike hesitated. If she'd made an error of judgement about the panties and what they seemed to imply, she might cause a rift between her and Rod, a rift that might not be easily bridged. Then with sudden resolve she knocked on the door, and without waiting for a reply she entered.
Rod was lounging on his bed reading a book. Surprised by his mother's sudden entry he looked up and said, "Mum what..."
Heike had been holding the panties behind her back, and now she displayed them to Rod without saying a word. No word was needed because the flush that diffused Rod's face told the story.
Heike gently swung the panties and after a long pause said,, "These have been missing for a couple of weeks and just now I found them in the laundry basket, and I was wondering how they got there.
