I never knew my father. He and my mother were neither married nor lived together during their six months relationship. When he found out she was pregnant he refuse to have anything more to do with her. For as long as I can remember I've always loved my mother, it was not just something a son says, I was deeply conscious of my love for her. She sacrificed her life for me, ensuring I had a decent education and brought up being kind, and respecting my fellow man, a pillar of society she called it. I suppose in one way I was a mommy's boy, not that I was an under developed weakling, quite the opposite I was taller and stronger than the average kid well built, and represented my schools in swimming and athletics, and had lots of girlfriends. Mom always said I was good looking, which I always replied that I got my looks from her.
I suppose that you could say things began to get a little weird during the summer break, between graduating from high school, and waiting to go to college. One weekend mom was sitting opposite me reading a book, her legs were crossed in a strangely different pose to how she normally sat crossed legged. She was sitting more like a man allowing me to see right up her skirt, in fact I could see everything. I wondered if she was doing it on purpose giving me the old come-on. She looked up and caught me looking up her skirt, she just smiled and returned to her book. I considered going across to her and kiss her on the lips and put my hand up her skirt, but I failed to follow through, thinking the whole thing may have been a coincidence.
While mom worked I was home doing the odd job for her. The following Monday morning while I was still in bed there was a knock on my bedroom door.
"Mike can I come in?"
"Sure, come in."
"Darling I'm late for work would you make my bed and tidy up around the house for me?"
"Sure mom."
"Thank you darling."
Later that morning when I went into her bedroom to make the bed, one of her bras was hanging on a chair; it looked and felt like black silk covered in lace. In the past I had never taken much notice of her lingerie, of course I had seen it before, but this was different I was actually attracted to it. I picked it up and handled the silky garment, rubbed it against my face and across my lips enjoying the lingering fragrance of her perfume. I looked for the label to check her size, 38E, I always knew she was a handful.
Suddenly I noticed my reflection in the mirror, imagine my surprise about how gentle I was handling her bra, almost with reverence, until I noticed the bulge in my pants. The consequences were unavoidable, after removing my pants and undershorts I wrapped her bra around my manhood and laid on her bed, fantasizing that mom was wearing the bra and had deliberately guided me inside so that I could us her breasts to pleasure myself. It was almost too late before I realized what was happening, if it wasn't for nature's indicator I think I would have cum all over her bra and the bed. Instead I caught most of the semen in my hand with only a few light spots splashing onto the bra. Even then I panicked knowing that it would dry leaving whitish spots on the black fabric.
Ignoring my pants and undershorts, which had fallen on the floor, I went to the bathroom, first to wash my hands, then to remove those drops which had landed on my body. Taking a damp cloth I successfully removed those spots which had dropped onto her bra, only now it was damp. Mom keeps her hairdryer on her nightstand, permanently plugged into the socket above it, so she can either sit on the bed, or stand to dry her hair in front of the mirror. I used it to dry her bra then had the quandary whether to hang it back on the chair, or drop it in the laundry basket. I decided to drop it in the laundry basket, for two reasons, first she asked me to tidy the house, secondly, she would know that I had been handling her bra, and seeing her lingerie in the laundry basket. Whether it would mean anything to her I may never know, but first I decided to put my undershorts and pants back on.
When I opened the laundry basket, on the top of the pile was a pair of matching panties, which obviously was a part of the same set as her bra. After rummaging around I found that beneath the panties was a damp towel from her morning shower, which meant I needn't have dried her bra, if she said anything all I had to say, was there anything else in the basket that was damp. Beneath the towel was her skirt and blouse from the previous day. I made sure that everything was returned in the correct order and look as if nothing had been disturbed then just dropped her bra on top of everything.
While making her bed I checked for any signs of staining, and I don't mean something that may have been caused by me, but there was nothing obvious. Having made both beds and tidied the house then completed several other small tasks I made myself some lunch and spent the afternoon watching TV, but thinking more about mom. It's not often that I have spent time in her bedroom and I can never remember her asking me to go in there. I have never seen her just wearing underclothes or a nightdress, unless she's wearing a robe. Whether she is just shy or doesn't want to encourage me to look at her in a sexual way I couldn't say.
To the best of my knowledge she has never been on a date, although with her figure and looks she must have been asked out numerous times. Whether the experience with my father put her off men completely was certainly a point to consider. The more I thought about her and my time spent in her bedroom the more I fantasized about making love to her, convincing myself that she would accept my advances. But how to go about it without frightening her, it would have to be a slow process, but I didn't have that much time before I left for college.
When mom arrived home from work she asked me if I made the beds and tidied up.
"Yes I did everything you asked plus a couple of other bits."
"Thank you darling I'm going up to change."
I thought to myself perhaps you would like me to come up and undress you.
Fifteen minutes later she came back into the sitting room.
"Mike have you moved a bra from the chair in my bedroom?"
"Yes mom I put it in the laundry basket."
"Why would you do that?"
"Because you asked me to tidy the house and I thought you had worn it and left it out for washing. Why hadn't you worn it, was you going to wear it tonight, shall I go up and retrieve it for you?"
I could see that my questions had shaken her a little, the way she stumbled over her words.
"No that's alright darling you did the right thing."
"Would you like me to bring the laundry basket down for you?"
"No thank you, I won't be doing any washing tonight."