Mommy You've Been Naughty

Author's Note:

I've been away for quite a while on an extended overseas holiday and I'm working on what I think is my best story ever but it's taking time. So here is some wank fodder out of my archive of uncompleted stories to keep my fans happy and to let you all know I'm still alive lol.

Chapter One – The Beginning

Brendan's mother came into his bedroom unannounced and she was very lucky that she hadn’t come in five minutes earlier otherwise she would have found her son masturbating whilst sniffing a pair of her panties that he had fished from the laundry hamper the day before.

“I’m off to work now Brendan, don’t you go spending all day in bed,” she leaned in and tousled his hair, enveloping him in a cloud of exotic perfume as she kissed his cheek.

Susan Montclair turned on her high heels and left the room. Under the coverlet his hard cock twitched. It grew to full tumescence as he stared at his mother’s big ass swinging from side to side in that tight skirt and her long legs encased in her sheer shiny nude pantyhose.

Susan Montclair and her sister Veronica were the CEOs and sole operators of the Women’s Savings Bank, a charity that helped women of modest means find affordable housing and assisted living. The two sisters operated the business from an office downtown and they were practitioners of the edict: ‘you don’t have to spend a fortune to look fabulous’. In fact they promoted moderation in all things materialistic and espoused that a sound investment in the future was the means for women to achieve financial independence.

They had a penchant for form-fitting power suits, big hair and high heels and even though they both carried a few extra pounds they did it well. The two thirty-something businesswomen didn't conventionally advertise, they relied on referrals and word of mouth to run their successful business and looking the part was important when snaring clients and dealing with investors. Women were very critical of other women.

Veronica was had borne two sons who were now fully-grown and had left home and she was divorced from their father and Susan had only Brendan who was eighteen and was waiting to go to college.

Brendan leapt out of bed and opened the curtain just enough to see his mother back out of the driveway in her one year old Prius. He picked up his tablet and padded naked down the hallway to his mother’s bedroom, his long thick cock now flaccid and swinging between his legs. He opened the door to his mother’s bedroom and was assaulted by the scent of Dior Poison, his mother’s favourite perfume. His cock began to swell in anticipation.

He made his way to his mother’s armoire and opened up the doors. It was one of the few pieces of furniture in the house that wasn’t store-bought. He opened the top drawer and delighted in the sight of a colourful array of teddies, chemises, negligées, petticoats, camisoles and slips. They were all satin, charmeuse and nylon and exuded slippery coolness. Brendan lightly ran his fingertips across them being careful not to disturb them.

The next drawer contained his mother’s panties, brassieres and hosiery. Like her undergarments, Susan's panties and bras were an assortment of colours and also manufactured from silky materials. There were no thongs, tangas or G-strings, his mother favoured control briefs for work and full-cut and hipster briefs for leisure. There were also a few precious pairs of French knickers. The panties were arranged by style with the matching brassieres adjacent.

His mother preferred Wolford control top pantyhose with reinforced toes. He had heard his mother and his aunt discussing hosiery and Susan had expressed that her Wolford control tops struck the ideal balance between sheerness and durability. Although noticeably darker than the lower deniers, they were still very translucent but importantly, less likely to snag if you so much as breathed on them.

One might wonder why an eighteen year old boy would have such an acute interest in hosiery and the answer was simple. Brendan had an intense nylons and lingerie fetish which had become a compulsion. It was not just that. His fetish was focussed primarily on his mother. Being an only child and fatherless Brendan had become fixated by his mother, very possessive of her and jealous of any man who he saw as a rival.

His fondest memories were of being cuddled by his mother and the scent of her perfume or the touch of her garments was enough to excite him sexually. As his mother had always been a business professional and had always dressed accordingly, he also transferred his incestual fetish onto her clothing, particularly her undergarments, hosiery and shoes.

Susan’s high heels were lined up at the bottom of the armoire and she had quite a collection. None of them were Vuitton, Blahnik, Gucci, Louboutin or Choo. They were all chain store brands but the heels were all four inches or higher. Susan might wear cheaper brand high heels but it was one area of her life where she sacrificed comfort for style and one of Brendan’s favourite pastimes was watching his mother take off a shoe and massage her toes through the reinforced nylon of her pantyhose feet or dangle a high heel from her perfectly formed foot encased in sheer nylon.

Besides a featherlight brushing with his fingertips, Brendan was careful not to disturb any of the garments or footwear. He’d had too many uncomfortable conversations with his mother about his fascination with her clothing.

He closed the armoire and went to her walk-in robe where her business suits were lined up hanging on one side of the space and her dresses, skirts and blouses were hung on the other side. Leggings and tights and other leisure and active wear were arranged in wire baskets. There was one pantsuit and one pair of skinny-jeans. Susan Montclair was not one for trousers.

Brendan walked into his mother’s ensuite bathroom and went directly to her laundry hamper to find what he was looking for: yesterday’s panties and pantyhose. He fished them out and brought them to his nose and inhaled his mother’s scent. Her perfume was the most powerful odour, but he could also smell her perspiration, and in the crotch of the panties and pantyhose he could smell her cunt.

His cock was now fully tumescent a silvery strand of pre-ejaculate hung from the glans. Brendan put the crotch insert of his mother’s panties on his cock to absorb the viscous fluid. The feel of the satiny garment on genitals caused his cock to twitch.

Brendan dropped the panties he had stolen yesterday back into the hamper and went back into the bedroom and lay on the bed. The same bed that his mother’s body had warmed not that long ago. He could feel her presence. He put the panties and pantyhose down on the coverlet and fired up the tablet and found the file he was looking for and opened it.

On the screen his mother was walking around her bedroom dressed in her brassiere, panties, pantyhose and heels. She was wearing full makeup and her red hair was coiffed, a satin full-slip and her business suit lay on the bed ready to wear but she had been disturbed by an important business call on her mobile while she was dressing.

This was one of Brendan’s favourite videos of him mother. He liked watching her pace the room talking animatedly on her cell-phone, her red lipsticked lips close to the phone, her free hand playing with her jewellery or stroking her hair. His favourite part was coming up where his mother put the phone on speaker and put it on the coverlet while she bent over and ran her hands up her legs to smooth the wrinkles out of her nylons.

Susan was the kinda gal who wore her panties over her pantyhose. The aesthetic pleased her and she found it more comfortable and although she would never tell anyone except her sister, she figured that as she preferred her skirts on the short side there was always going to be the accidental panty-peek and if that was going to be the case why hide her pretty panties under her control tops?

Brendan was lying on the bed, his mother’s pink satin panties draped over his face so that he could smell and lick the crotch and see through the legholes. He’d carefully rolled the pantyhose onto his cock so that the reinforced toe encased his rock-hard penis. The feel of that delicate garment on his sensitive organ and knowing that his mother’s toes had sweated in them whilst he inhaled the scent of her cunt was enough to invoke an orgasm but he waited for the best part of the video before he allowed himself release.

On the screen his mother ran her hands up her legs, pulling her nylons tight, easing the little wrinkles up past her knees, up her thighs to the dark bands of her control tops. Bent over as she was, her white spandex panties clung to her pudenda, the shape of her cunt clearly outlined in layers of lycra and nylon.

Brandan breathed deep, inhaling his mother’s perfume and the stench of her cunt and released a flood of semen into the toe of her pantyhose, the diaphanous nylon rasping gently on his cock as it juddered and the toe of the nylon turned dark brown as it dampened with his fluids and then a bubble of semen burst through the nylon, clinging to it.

Despite the rapture he was feeling Brendan was careful to make sure that none of his semen got onto the bedspread. He lay there letting his orgasm peak and subside before he moved. He imagined that he looked quite comical walking into his mother’s bathroom with her pantyhose dangling from his hard cock and her panties on his head but this is where he needed to be particularly careful. He’d made the mistake of leaving trace evidence of his perversions in the past and that conversation and the consequences had been very uncomfortable.

Brendan removed the panties from his head and put them on the vanity and then unrolled a handful of toilet paper and carefully dabbed at the semen clinging to the pantyhose. He dried the toe as best he could without leaving any evidence of the toilet tissue then he carefully laid the pantyhose in the hamper and put the pantyhose over them exactly as he had found them.

By the time his mother did the laundry and dropped her pantyhose and panties into a lingerie washing bag his semen would have dried and as he had ejaculated into the reinforced toe, the stain would not be noticeable. Brendan flushed the toilet and went back into the bedroom and looked up at the top of the armoire where his 8mm minicam was hidden amongst the dust-collectors that Susan had accumulated over the years. It was motion activated and linked by Bluetooth to the computer in his bedroom. He waved at the camera stupidly before making a final check that the bedclothes were smooth and everything was how he found it and then he left the room.

*****

Veronica Montclair’s Volvo was already parked in her space when Susan parked her Prius beside it. Susan’s sister had arrived at work before her but this was not unusual. The office of the Women’s Savings Bank was unpretentiously located in a strip mall downtown just outside the city. It was very nice strip mall but a strip mall none the less which reflected the bank’s maxim of maximising the bank’s profits for the benefits of its benefactors and the needy women it served. Profits were split equally between the investors and those women who desperately needed affordable housing and assisted living.

Susan’s heels click-clacked on the concrete parking lot as she walked purposely towards the office. She stopped suddenly when she saw a black Mercedes parked in one of the visitor’s car parks. The car belonged to Vlad Holstein and that did not bode well. Vlad had never visited the women’s only charity office before; business with him was always conducted off premises.

The Women’s Savings Bank accepted deposits only from women and prided itself on being a women-only financial institution that helped other women. In the days when #Me Too and women's empowerment were de rigueur, women of substance were flocking to invest in organisations such as this.

The bank told depositors that it worked with a registered charitable organisation charity that wanted to help women of modest means. The bank promised a very high interest rate on deposits and financial security on money invested. In fact there was no such charity and The Women’s Savings Bank relied on new deposits to pay the interest on older ones. It was for all intents and purposes a Ponzi scheme with Susan and Veronica skimming the cream.

Susana and Veronica’s scheme had worked perfectly until the markets became volatile when some of their biggest depositors wanted to pull out their investments. Susan and Veronica had scrambled to pay them out with their accrued interest in order to convince the other investors that their money was safe and secure.

That was when they had no choice but to approach the likes of Vlad Holstein and take out a loan. Vlad Holstein presented as a handsome, astute businessman who wore fashion label suits and cruised the edges of high society like a shark looking for prey. The women knew that Vlad was the frontman for some very shady people but needs must when the Devil drives.

The offices of The Women’s Savings Bank consisted of a reception area, a small conference room, an office each for Susan and Veronica and a small kitchenette. It was tastefully furnished but not extravagant, reflecting frugality not austerity. This was also reflected in cars the sisters drove, the clothes they wore, and the houses they lived in. The women did not display their hidden wealth.

Susan entered the offices and closed and locked the front door behind her. If they were doing business with Vlad Holstein it was best they not be seen to be doing so by the bank’s investors. She could hear a muffled conversation coming from Veronica’s office and she went straight there.

Veronica was pacing the floor of her office wearing a furrow in the carpet with her spiky high heels. She too had a disposition for tight-fitting, short-skirted power suits, big hair and heavy makeup. She wore so much costume jewellery that it rattled as she paced back and forth. Her blonde hair was teased out, her blouse buttoned low, her legs clad in shimmering hosiery and her heels were four inches: think Fran Drescher circa The Nanny only with blonde hair.

Vlad was sitting behind Veronica’s desk, feet on the desktop and his hands behind his head exhibiting a classic power pose.

“Ah! And we are joined by the lovely Susan. I was just explaining to your sister here that the people I represent are a little disappointed in the returns on their investments,” Vlad’s eyes openly roaming over Susan’s body with the ‘male gaze’.

“And I’m sure Veronica has explained to you that we will soon be providing the people you represent with balloon payments to catch up on the overdue returns. As you know we went through some difficult times and that is why we came to you for help in the first place but now things are returning to normal,” Susan explained sweetly but Veronica still looked worried.

Vlad got out of his chair and came around the front of the desk.

“Oh, well I see. That’s all you had to say. Things are looking up. Things are hunky dory. We are entering the days of wine and roses,” Vlad smiled at them both.

Both Susan and Veronica nodded their heads vigorously.

“Well in that case I will scurry away and tell my superiors not to worry,” Vlad’s smile became a sarcastic grin.

“But would you mind if I spoke to your sister alone? I know that she is younger than you but I have a better rapport with her,” Vlad put his hand in the small of Veronica’s back and guided her to the door.

“But this is

my

office,” Veronica squeaked.

Vlad just eased Veronica out of the door and clicked the lock. Susan felt a shiver run down her back.

“Look Vlad I…” Susan was about to speak when Vlad pushed her against the wall.

“You make a sound and I will bring your sister in and make her watch,” Vlad hissed as he wrenched open Susan's blouse.

He pressed his face to hers and began to kiss her whilst his hands pawed her breasts, squeezing her tits and tweaking her nipples. To Susan’s shame her nipples hardened and rings of pleasure radiated from them as Vlad’s tongue jittered in her mouth. He was a handsome man with a lean, muscled body and in different circumstances she may have been a willing participant but Vlad didn’t give her the option.

Vlad broke the kiss and dragged Susan over to Veronica's desk by her hair and bent her over it, pinning her to it with the weight of his body while he fumbled with his flies.

Susan wanted to scream but she knew the consequences. She felt Vlad’s hard cock rubbing on her thighs and god help her, her moist cunny began to become fully wet.

“Please don’t Vlad,” Susan begged as Vlad stroked her vulva through her panties and pantyhose.

He could feel the heat of it, the moisture soaking through the layers of spandex and nylon. He rubbed his cock on her crack and enjoyed the feel of the silky fabric on his manhood. Susan felt the shape of Vlad’s cock through her panties, it nestled in the crease of her labia and pressed on her aching clitoris and she bit down to stifle a groan.

Vlad eased aside the gusset of her panties and tore a little hole in her pantyhose and slid his cock all the way inside her. It slid into her easily, her vagina slick with secretions. He quickly unbuckled his belt and allowed his pants to fall around his ankles.

“Oh my!” Susan yelped; a cry that was half distress and half delight.

Vlad fucked her hard, her cunt clinging to his hard cock, her labia dripping with vaginal secretions. He grinned. The bitch liked it! He lifted her off the desk and mauled her tits while he slammed his cock in and out of her tight clunge, her big ass sheathed in the slinky pantyhose felt delightful against his thighs as he fucked her from behind.

Susan had not had sex for so long she had forgotten how wonderful it felt and she was quivering with delight as Vlad’s cock opened her tight slick vagina, pressed on her g-spot and rubbed her clitoris, creating waves of rapture that coursed through her body.

She bit her lip to suppress a scream as she orgasmed when she felt Vlad’s cock bloat and quiver as he ejaculated deep inside her cunt. She began to shake and shimmy with the force of it and Vlad smiled as he felt her cunt milk his cock of every drop of his spend.

When he had finished coming he pushed her off him and she fell against the desk, hanging on to it for support. She was gasping and moaning and maybe even crying a little but Vlad didn’t care. He stood close behind her, inhaling her perfume and the scent of her sex. He caught a tail of Susan’s blouse and wiped his cock on it and then pulled up his pants and zipped.

He leaned over her and whispered in her ear.

“I can do anything I want to you two bitches any time I want. Get me my fucking money!” he hissed.

Veronica could smell the sex as soon as she came back in her office. Susan was tucking in her blouse, her lipstick was smeared and her clothing dishevelled. Veronica looked away while Susan straightened her skirt, blouse and jacket.

“What did he do to you Susan?” Veronica whispered.

“Nothing I can’t handle. We need to get him his money,” Susan changed the subject.

“I have to see clients all day today and I have the women’s rights fund-raiser to attend this afternoon,” Veronica went around to her desk and fished her cigarettes from the drawer.

“Come to my place for dinner tonight and we’ll talk it over. Maybe it’s time to blow,” Susan took a cigarette from her sister and they walked together through the kitchenette and out into the side alley to smoke.

“Don’t you think Vlad won’t find us if we take the money and run? Besides you have Brendan,” Veronica said through a plume of smoke.