Mommy’s Panties

Every woman knows what it is to be shocked by her family – her husband and her children. I'm no stranger to being shocked, that's for sure.

Like when I was eavesdropping on the phone, listening to my daughter tell her friend how she'd lost her virginity the previous night to a dreadful boy who I absolutely disliked. Or, when I accidentally discovered the 'Life Like' penis shaped vibrator that was shrewdly hidden in the back of one of her drawers. Of course, I never said anything to her, but, they were shocking, none the less.

But, nothing could have prepared me for this. Not even when my husband of twenty years decided to leave me for a much younger woman in his office. Nothing over took me and affected me the way this had.

Danny was always a good boy – a model child that never got into trouble. From the pregnancy all the way up to the time he graduated from college, found a job and got married, Danny was the absolute perfect son. Family, friends and neighbors all told me what a delight he was, and how lucky I was to have such an adorable son.

He was thoughtful and kind; always excited to help me around the house, and was the first one to volunteer to help me do whatever I needed to do - even sometimes asking me to make a list of chores he could do for me. I could take him shopping with me for hours and he'd never complain while I went into every shoe store in the mall to find that perfect pair of shoes, or a new outfit. We held hands when we were out together, hugged at home every morning, and he even kissed me good night until he was in his twenties.

When his father left me, Danny came over almost every day to see me. On the days that he couldn't come by, he'd always call – even when he was on a business trip. He took me grocery shopping, out for dinner and we'd go to brunch almost every Sunday. I'm not sure how I would have gotten through those days and weeks without him.

I was happy when Danny finally found a nice girl and married her. They bought a house fifteen minutes away from mine, and it was nice seeing my son grow into a man I could be so proud of. He was a devoted husband to her, but, just a year into their marriage, they were divorced, sighting irreconcilable differences. I talked to both of them when Danny told me the news, but neither would go into any detail on what was going on between them, so I sat back and watched, helping him when I could, and played the part of a supportive mother.

Their divorce was the epitome of 'friendly'. I never heard Danny bad talk his wife and during the time of their divorce proceedings, they pleasantly talked together and I even saw them smile and laugh with each other. Soon, their divorce was final and Danny was on his own again. He kept the house, knuckled down at his job and within a few months, you couldn't even tell he'd been married, or, gone through a divorce.

But still, I wasn't prepared to be shocked like this. Not in a million years. Not in two million years. The revelations about my daughter's sexual experiences, my own divorce, Danny's divorce – none of it came anywhere close to the way this knocked me down and sucked the air out of my lungs.

It all started late last summer.

A weather front swept through our area spawning severe thunderstorms and tornadoes. Living in the mid-west of the US meant dealing with that pretty regularly, but this storm system was especially bad. I didn't have any home damage, but, Danny called me from his business trip in Phoenix and asked me if I could drive by his house to see if it was okay. Of course, I was happy to do it.

After he called, I remembered his ex-wife had once given me a set of their house keys in case of an emergency. So, once I found them, I drove to his neighborhood and fortunately, found his house was completely untouched. There were a few branches and limbs down in their neighborhood, but, everything looked fine at his house. I parked in his driveway and looked around the sides of the yard, and through the fence boards into the back yard – everything looked good.

As I headed back to my car, I felt the need to use the restroom. Since I had his keys and I knew he wouldn't mind, I didn't think twice about unlocking the door and using his bathroom. What I found when I opened the door was a bit of a surprise – his house was a mess. His kitchen looked like a collection of trash bags and empty frozen dinner trays. The refrigerator was bare except for a case of beer and an old jug of milk, and as I stood in the middle of his kitchen shaking my head, I got the feeling he could use some help..... maybe I'd surprise him by cleaning up his kitchen, vacuuming the house and doing some dusting. He wouldn't be back from Phoenix for another two days, and I didn't have anything better to do.

So, smiling to myself at my great idea, I locked his house and got back in my car. I made a mental note of the cleaning supplies I'd gather at my house – rubber gloves, a bucket, a broom, mop, and so on, and then I'd come back and clean his house from top to bottom and he'd be surprised, and grateful, when he got home from his business trip.

On the way home, I called him on my cell phone and told him his house was fine – no damage and no broken glass as far as I could tell.

"You didn't go in, did you?" Danny asked.

"No." I said, smiling to myself knowing he was probably ashamed of his housekeeping, and I surely didn't want to spoil my surprise. "I didn't have time." I replied. "It looks fine from the outside, though."

He thanked me and told me his trip was going good. He was pretty sure he'd be home late Thursday night, which would give me all of today and tomorrow to get his house in order – plenty of time.

I snickered to myself once we hung up. I couldn't believe how clever I was. And, I felt good about what I was doing for him – after all the things he'd done for me, I was going to get a chance to do something nice for him, and I was excited about tearing into his house and going through it like a cleaning whirlwind.

I spent a couple of hours at my house getting everything I needed and changing into clothes I could clean in. I even grabbed an extra set of clothes and some personal items so I could shower, or even stay the night, depending on what I found upstairs and in his bathrooms. I could just see myself stripped down to my underwear, sweating like a pig as I cleaned mold and grime out of his showers, and I was mentally prepared for it. The trunk of my car was filled with everything I needed to totally attack his home, and when I was done, it would sparkle and shine just like it did when he was married. Most importantly, my son's house would be clean again.

So, arriving back at Danny's house, I backed my car into the driveway and started to unload all my cleaning goodies into a pile on the floor of his kitchen. Flipping on some lights, I went up the stairs and looked into the hall bathroom and it didn't look so bad. Peering into his home office, I shook my head in disgust, accepting the fact I'd be spending some time in there. Walking into his bedroom, though, I almost totally lost it.

I'd never seen such a mess. The sheets on the bed were tussled up in a ball, there were clothes all over the floor, the drawers of the dresser were half closed – it was a serious mess. Looking into his bathroom, it wasn't horrible, but it wasn't clean, either.

I realized the gravity of the task in front of me. This wasn't a one day job. I'd be lucky to get it done by tomorrow night.

With a grimacing face, I looked around his bedroom. His laundry hamper was overflowing and there was a second pile of clothes next to it, all needing to be washed. So, thinking I could get some laundry going while I started in his kitchen, I picked up the laundry hamper and dumped it out on the middle of the hallway where I'd have some room to sort out the colors and make piles to go into the washer. As I did this, though, that's when I received my first, honest to goodness shock.

There, amongst his clothes were several pairs of panties. At first, I though they were his ex-wife's, but they'd been divorced for over a year and that didn't seem right. Then, leaning down to pick one of the panties up, I realized they were too big to be Emily's. She was very petite and these were much bigger, they couldn't be hers.

Finally, it hit me he must have a girlfriend, and I smiled at the thought he was having a secret romance with some gal, but that thought went away when I looked down and saw a pair of my own underwear in the pile – a pair I thought I'd lost or thrown away. I knew they were mine, there was no doubt about it. I'd bought them in Mexico several years ago on vacation before my divorce. They were slinky, sexy things that I thought my husband would like, and I specifically remember them.

What were my panties doing in Danny's laundry hamper?

I knelt down next to the pile and started sorting through everything, and found several more panties. I found three more that were mine and a few I didn't recognize. His overflow pile was the same – several more pairs of panties and at least one was mine. Before long, I had everything sorted out, and as I looked at what I found, it began to tell a story.

There was one pair of men's boxers, several assorted t-shirts, pants, jeans, socks, shorts and work shirts...... and twelve pairs of panties. Twelve pairs of panties?

"Where's all my son's underwear?" I wondered. The answer to that question became painfully obvious to me once I looked at the panties from his hamper and saw how they were stretched out and had obviously been worn.

I was shaken; completely taken by surprise and unwilling to accept what I was seeing. Unless I was missing something, my son was wearing panties, and not his normal boxers.

I stood up, unwilling to believe the evidence, and went into his bathroom and took the towels and threw them into the hall. Then, I picked up everything off the floor and threw that into the hall, too, including his bed sheets, pillow cases and bed spread. Once everything was off the floor, I looked under the bed and through his drawers for his boxer shorts, hoping to convince myself that Danny wasn't wearing female underwear. For a few minutes, I was encouraged with what I found – a pretty good supply of normal men's clothes in all his drawers, but still, no boxer shorts, and no male briefs.

There were two closets in his bedroom, and opening the one I knew was his, I looked though all his hanging clothes. Everything was normal there, but, when I opened the other closet, the one that used to be Emily's, his wife's, there were no clothes in there at all. There was only what appeared to be an obvious lingerie chest, and shelves filled with plastic bins and DVDs.

With a shaking hand, I reached out to open the lingerie chest, hoping it was empty. But, my hopes were dashed when I found each drawer full of panties, slips, and camisoles – all neatly folded and laid perfectly inside the drawers. I had to hold myself up as I looked in those drawers – seeing some of my old panties I'd gathered up after my divorce, threw in a box and put out in the garage for the trash. Now they were here – in my son's house – in his room..... in his lingerie chest.

Glancing to my right, I saw a clear plastic bin with what looked like more panties, and pulling it down from the shelf, that's when I got another shock. They were my panties, too, but these were my dirty panties – panties I'd worn and hadn't been washed. He must have taken them from my laundry hamper, one at a time, when he was over at my house.

Just looking at them in the bin, I could see the remnants of my natural female secretions on the cotton crotches, and I immediately felt embarrassed and violated. Fishing through them, I found a pair I knew I'd worn just last week and didn't even realize they were gone. He must have taken these in the last few days.

But, the shocks kept coming as I looked through the rest of the bins and found other things that disturbed me. My jaw dropped when I looked through the titles of the DVDs in a bin on the floor of the closet – titles like, "Hot Mother", "Panty Training", "Cum Slut Mommy", and "Momma's Panty Boy." There were more than twenty nasty, filthy DVDs there – all having to do with mothers and sons – all incest related, and every one of them claimed to contain explicit sexual scenes between mothers and sons.

Looking around his room, I saw stack of DVDs on his TV stand – ones I guessed he'd been watching recently, and they were more of the same kind of filth. The one on top was a boxed set of three dirty movies: "Mommy's Panties", disk one, two and three. They were obviously well played, with smudges and fingerprints on the back of each one. Carefully, I picked up the box and read about the disks.

Each disk contained "Two action packed hours of actual mothers and sons playing panty games together." the box said.

"Yeah, right!" I moaned to myself. "That's a load of crap! This is just porn."

Then as I read more, it was clear each DVD contained seven or eight little stories, all lasting between ten and twenty minutes where the mother catches the son wearing her panties, or catches him masturbating with her panties, or dresses him in her panties, or buys him panties – a number of things all having to do with mothers and panties. In total, the box said the three disks contained thirty "Cum soaking, cock stroking stories of mothers and sons guaranteed to keep you hard."

I almost felt sick to my stomach.

Setting the box down on the TV stand, though, I wondered how it came to this. What happened to Danny along the way to make him so fascinated with panties – my panties, and with all this incest pornography? There hadn't been any warning signs, as far as I knew...... and I racked my brain trying to put it all together and sort it out.

For the next three hours, I literally tore apart his bedroom, looking for anything that would help me understand. I went through every one of his drawers, dumping them all out on the bed in case he'd hidden anything in there. I went through every bin, every box, and turned that room inside out looking for clues. I even watched parts from the "Mommy's Panties" disks #3 to see what it was like.

Sitting on his bed, I watched in disgust as the so called 'Mothers' stripped, dressed, bathed, spanked, exposed, humiliated, masturbated and even had sex with their sons. The depravity on the disk was more than I could bear, and more than once, I felt a lump in my throat thinking about my own son watching this stuff, and perhaps enjoying it. I couldn't accept the thought that he might be getting pleasure from it – masturbating himself while he watched it – but, deep in my heart, I knew he probably was.

One of the things I found in his room was very disturbing, and confirmed one of my fears. And, that was: a small collection of my panties, stuck together by what I assumed was his dried semen. I might not be a sexual dynamo, but, I spent twenty years being married and I know what dried sperm looks and feels like. There was no doubt about it, either - these wadded up panties contained his spent sperm. My own son's sperm on my panties!

So, finally realizing and accepting the truth about my son, I sat on the bed in his room in total shock – the worst shock of my life - and the shock that broke me all the way to the core of my being.

I wasn't sure what to do. Should I put it all back like I found it? Just leave and go home? Pretend it never happened?

"Shit!" I grumbled to myself. "There's no way I can get all this back like it was. He's going to know I was here. What am I going to do?"

After several minutes of trying to figure a way out of this mess, I hunched my shoulders and decided I'd just ignore the panties and the pornography, and I'd do exactly what I came over to do - I'd scrub his house, clean his bathrooms, wash his clothes and make everything clean and perfect before he got home..... and, I'd pray he wasn't mad at me.

After all, I didn't have much choice – I couldn't unsee what I'd seen, and, I couldn't unthink what I'd thought. I knew he'd blow his top once he got home from his trip and realized I went through his room – he was a grown man and these were his private things. He was going to be hopping mad with me.

But, I justified my actions to myself because he was my son...... and he was alone now. He didn't have a wife to look after him – he only had me, his mother. And, although he obviously had some kind of sexual problem involving panties and incest, he was still my little boy and I wasn't about to let this, or anything else come between us.

We'd just have to handle it like adults, and I'd simply keep quiet about what I found and pretend it didn't bother me.

I worked late into the night running load, after load, after load of laundry – and I washed everything from his bedroom, except the soiled panties I found in the plastic bin in the closet.

I worked in the kitchen as I did the laundry, first scrubbing the counters and his breakfast table to make room for the laundry to be folded once they were done in the dryer. I washed towels and sheets and the rest of his clothes. I washed everything that could possibly go in the washer, and by the time his kitchen was done and everything was shining, I had numerous piles of things to put away, including well over twenty pairs of panties.

It was close to midnight when I got so tired I had to call it a day. I'd eaten a frozen pizza I found in his freezer for dinner, and, even drank two of his beers while I worked. Deciding I might as well stay the night and finish the rest in the morning, I made my way upstairs to his bedroom, put some clean sheets on his bed, and then went into his bathroom to take a shower because I was horribly sweaty and stinky. My knees were hurting from being on my hands and knees, scrubbing the marks off his kitchen floor, and I was completely worn out. All I wanted was a hot shower and some sleep.

All day, as I worked, I'd been thinking about what I'd found in his room – all the panties, his dried sperm and the incest pornography, and what I'd say to him when he realized I knew about his problem. I shrugged it all off as I reached in to turn the water on in the shower, letting the hot water run before I got in.

Stripping my clothes off, I looked at myself in the mirror. Thankfully, the years had been kind to me. My breasts weren't that bad – a little sag, but not bad for a woman in her 40's who's had two children, I thought. I tried to take care of myself, and with the exception of the overgrown patch of pubic hair emanating from my crotch, I didn't look that bad.

Stepping into the shower and hoping to just relax and let the hot water beat down on me, I was treated to one more horrific shock. There on the wall of the shower was a realistic looking silicone penis, stuck to the shower wall by a suction cup.

It stuck out lewdly from the wall, as if the shower itself sprouted an erection. It looked ominous; almost a perfect replica of a man's erection with its life like head and veins running up the side. My heart took a dive as I looked at it and considered why it might be in his shower, and then I came to the only possible conclusion – he was using it as a toy...... he was impaling himself on it in the shower, sticking it up his...... oh, please no.

I tried to turn my attention away from the thing, but, I couldn't. I adjusted the shower head and started to wash myself, but, I kept staring at it, unable to shake the idea of my son backing up against the silicone penis and pushing his butt down on it. I wasn't naïve about anal sex; after all, I was married for twenty years and I read in magazines about men being quite sensitive inside their butts. But, I couldn't believe Danny would be humping himself in the shower with this thing. However, once I saw the squirt bottle of 'Personal Lubricant' and the bottle of antibacterial soap next to his shampoo, I realized it was probably true. Danny put this here for a reason and it was obvious to me what the reason was.