Mommy's Panty Party

"Mom!"

Mrs. Henderson smiled. Her boys had discovered the surprise she'd left them.

She heard Thomas curse somewhere inside the house.

She didn't answer. They'd find her soon enough. She wanted to savour it—the excruciating moment of anticipation before it would all begin. She rolled over, adjusted her bikini, and waited, the sun gleaming off her oiled body where she lay next to the pool.

She heard a rumble of sneakers descend the stairs. The screen door rattled, and Thomas stepped onto the patio, incredulous. Timothy followed, lurking a reticent step behind his twin brother.

"What are these?" Thomas waved a ration of pink satin at her.

"They're underwear, dear."

"They're girl's underwear. What are they doing in my drawer?"

"They're not girl's underwear." They were indeed girl's underwear. "They're a product your doctor recommended."

She observed with some delight as Thomas registered her near nudity and his eyes performed a little dance about her bare curves, her large breasts. Her boys, she knew, were not accustomed to seeing their busty mother so exposed.

Thomas faltered. "But where are my boxers?"

"Dr. Kim was concerned about you. She suggested you wear these. Besides, your boxers were all ratty anyway, honey. It's time you had something new."

"You threw away my boxers? All of them?"

Timothy was silent, sullen. He stood drawing the thin satin through his fingers, stealing furtive glances at the sudden, sensuous spectacle his mother had made of herself, a smaller concern amidst the greater emergency of his new underpants. He hated confrontation, Mrs. Henderson knew. He'd be the easy one. It was Thomas that would require more work. But he'd get there. She had a few tricks in mind.

"You don't need them, dear. You've got these now."

"I am not wearing these."

"Right." Mrs. Henderson sat up and wedged her manicured toes into her sandals. "Inside. Both of you. Family meeting."

She streamed past her sons into the house. The boys followed, Thomas muttering inaudibly to himself.

And so the fun had really begun. Of course, Dr. Kim had made no such recommendation. There had been no conversation. The women's undergarments were a necessary cog in a much larger machine—a greater, devious ambition.

For as her sons had grown these past few years, stretching long and lean, their boisterous energy unsettling her formerly quiet house, Mrs. Henderson had become increasingly absorbed by a single persistent thought—her young boys had become handsome young men. Moreover, as they had continued to clamor through high school—trampling in and out of rooms, up and down stairs—she had developed an acute fascination with their changing genitalia. She most savored the sight of the generous weight of their developing manhood operating freely inside the loose, thin roomwear they favored as they bounded unselfconsciously about her house.

Mrs. Henderson began to fantasize about her two young sons while she masturbated, her head swimming with taboo desire. She dreamed of worshipping her sons' young cocks, of their satisfying weight in her hands. And she dreamed they would worship her, too. She imagined using her sexy body to slowly taunt and tease her twins into a state of sexual insanity. She wanted to watch her boys melt in her hands, writhing in incestuous pleasure as they baptized themselves in their own warm emissions.

Her sons, she suspected, did not share her secret appetites, preoccupied as they were with younger girls, sports, and all the other manifold diversions of early adulthood. They remained tragically unaware of the pleasure she believed she could offer them. And, for a long time, her fantasy had remained just that.

Until, recently, she had discovered a blog post that had filled her with a renewed sense of opportunity. The anonymous author, a professed middle-aged mother, candidly described the seduction of her own son. The report described the acquisition of her son's initially reluctant sexual interest and the systematic undoing of his reservations. Adhering to the principals to which Mrs. Henderson would now subscribe, the woman had converted her circumspect son into an obedient, appreciative young fuck puppy. At her computer that night, with her oblivious sons sequestered to their respective bedrooms, immersed in the sound sleep of growing teenagers, Mrs. Henderson had feverishly scribbled detailed notes from which to enact her scheme, her hands trembling with the excitement of it all.

***

In the living room, Mrs. Henderson pointed at the sofa, and the boys sat in unison.

"I had a call from Dr. Kim after your appointment last month. She's worried about your development. She says the boxer shorts that you boys have been wearing are terrible for your genitals."

Timothy shifted uncomfortably.

"Infertility is a real concern for young men, and Dr. Kim says that boxer shorts are a big part of the problem.They offer no support. Zero." Mrs Henderson held out her hand, and Timothy handed her his panties.

"Yes, they're technically women's underwear—"

"I knew it!" Thomas declared.

"But they're not too restrictive," Natalie held up the pink briefs and began to quote from the literature she'd found online. "They're designed to gently cradle your testicles—"

"Mom!" Timothy squirmed in embarrassment.

"They will gently cradle your testicles," Mrs Henderson repeated over her son's objection. "And the satin will stimulate your penis. To ensure everything is working down there. Dr. Kim wants to follow up next month, and until then she wants you to wear these. Only these—"

"I'm not wearing them," Thomas repeated.

Mrs. Henderson sighed. "You boys are eighteen now. You're adults. You'll be finished school in a few weeks. You're free to do whatever you like. You don't want to wear women's underwear? Fine. I can't make you."

The twins remained silent. They were astute enough to know there'd be more.

"But this is my house. And as long as you are living in my house, you will follow my rules. If you don't like the rules, you're free to leave. You can get jobs and pay for an apartment. You can go live with your father, for all I care. But as long as you're under this roof, what I say goes. Understood?"

Her sons were quiet, a smoldering air of indignation between them.

"Good. So if there are no more objections—" She dropped the panties into Timothy's lap. "Suit up."

Neither boy moved.

"Let's go! Quickly now."

The boys looked at one another.

"Here?" Thomas balked.

"Yes, here. I need to be sure they fit."

"You've gotta be kidding me," he laughed.

Timothy lurched to his feet, his height suddenly exaggerating his mother's diminutive form. He looked to his brother who only shrugged.

Timothy undid his jeans and paused. "Can you at least turn around, Mom?"

"Stop fooling around. Come on, Thomas. Get up."

Thomas didn't move.

When Timothy was nude, his mother knelt and stretched the dreaded article open at his feet, affording Timothy an elevated view of her large, shifting breasts. "In you go."

Timothy placed a hand on his mother's bare shoulder, her long hair brushing his prick, and stepped unsteadily into the panties.

He couldn't remember ever having seen his mother in any kind of swimsuit, let alone such a revealing bikini. She looked good for forty. Hell, he thought, she looked good for thirty.

He'd been surprised by her taut abdomen, the pert, gym-toned swell of her ass. But most of all, he was amazed at her inordinately large breasts. Her petite frame served to make them seem even larger than they were. He'd known she was busty. That had always been clear, impossible to hide beneath the thin sweaters and blouses she wore. But her obvious curvaceousness, so modestly hidden, had always been accompanied by an air of maternal propriety. He'd never imagined that, suddenly revealed, she'd look so alluring.

It had been one thing on the patio, admiring her sleek form in the context of the backyard, but another thing entirely now that she was kneeling before him, scarcely a foot from where he stood, smelling like coconuts.

The intimate proximity of his glamorous mother made Timothy more self-conscious of his own nudity. And, shamefully, he felt his prick begin to stir.

Mrs. Henderson slid the smooth satin up his legs and over his exposed genitals. They hugged him gently, enveloping him like a cool, soft hand.

"There. Not so bad, right?"

Thomas sat with his eyes averted. He would not look at his brother.

"How do they feel?" Mrs Henderson tugged at the scalloped waist, pulling the panties higher on Timothy's hips and accentuating the bulge beneath the thin cloth.

Timothy would not admit it, but they were surprisingly comfortable.

"Are they too tight?" Mrs. Henderson stepped close to her son and palmed him, hefting his covered package as though measuring the weight of him. She gazed up inquisitively into his embarrassed face. She gave him a light squeeze and felt the modest inflation there. "Aren't they just so soft?"

Timothy swallowed hard. His mother's touch through the satin sent waves of warm pleasure threw him.

"Looks like they fit perfectly." She winked coyly at her blushing son.

"Alright, Mister." She turned to Thomas. "Your turn."

Thomas didn't budge.

Mrs. Henderson sighed and looked at Timothy. "Go fill the bathtub, dear. I need to have a private word with your brother."

"The bathtub?"

"Yes, dear. We'll be up in a minute."

***

Timothy held his hand under the running faucet, the gushing water thunderous in the small bathroom.

Unbelievable. He shook his head to himself. He had been mortified to stand nude in front of his mother as he had, an erection threatening to blossom in her hand, but the moment had been undeniably thrilling. Despite himself, he had enjoyed his mother's warm attentions.

With the bathtub filling, he crept out to the stairs and listened. He could hear the low, insistent murmur of his mother's voice, but her words were swallowed by the noise from the bathroom.

When the bathtub was nearly full, Thomas came meekly up the stairs and into the bathroom. Timothy had no idea what magic his mother had enacted upon his brother, but he was flushed and undressed, apparently cowed. Mrs. Henderson followed, smirking. Timothy was flustered by the sudden intrusion of his family into the small space of the bathroom, the twins looming, nude, over their tiny, bikini-clad mother.

The boys squeezed into the bathtub, their wet skin squelching as they moved against one another in the small space, and Mrs. Henderson knelt on the bath mat before them.

"The doctor said the satin needs to be in direct contact with your skin. To stimulate you fully. So—" she brandished a large bottle. "Time for haircuts."

Mrs. Henderson dipped her hand into the rising bathwater and began to douse each boy in turn.

"Shaving is hard on your skin," she explained. "This is a special foam Dr. Kim has prescribed. It will gently remove all your hair but leave your skin smooth and healthy."

Timothy felt like a child, wedged into the bathtub next to his brother, his mother bathing him as she had when he was a child. As she moved about, he watched the soft bustle of her breasts, and he felt his cock begin to stir once more.

With the boys suitably moistened, Mrs. Henderson held the bottle and pumped a handful of thick foam into her palm. She reached first for Timothy. "Stand up, dear."

She began to apply the cream to the area around his groin. The coated fingers of one hand slid through the hair on his mons as those of the other began to massage his testicles, his protruding prick framed between her busy palms. Her face was mere inches from his quickening erection, her warm breath tickling his thighs, and he was moved by an illicit desire for his mother's touch. He quietly yearned for her dexterous fingers to come together around his galvanized cock.

"Look Thomas. I think Timothy likes the feel of mommy's messy hands."

Thomas glanced at Timothy, and his eyes bulged at the sight of his brother's erection in his mother's hands.

Mrs. Henderson was distressed by the agonizing immediacy of her son's cock. She was seized by a nearly irresistible urge to envelop the boy in the warm receptacle of her mouth. Not yet, she insisted. The boys would have to beg for it first.

"It's okay, dear," she murmured. "Don't be embarrassed. It's perfectly natural for a boy your age to become aroused when a beautiful woman handles your penis. Even if she is your sexy mommy." She turned and winked at Thomas.

Despite himself, as he watched his mother fondle his brother's testicles, Thomas too began to stiffen beneath the water.

"In fact, your arousal is an important part of the treatment," his mother was saying. "A responsive erection is a great indication of your sexual health."

Done, she settled back on her heels and reached again for the bottle.

"Thomas." Mrs. Henderson filled her hand with more foam.

Thomas stood reluctantly, and as she began to tenderly treat his genitals, he caught a glimpse of the sordid tableau in the mirror—the two boys standing before their kneeling mother who held each of her anointed sons in her slick hands— and his cock swelled quickly in her animated grasp.

"Look who's decided to join the party," Mrs. Henderson purred. She pursed her plump lips and blew gently on the underside of Thomas's erection.

"Doesn't that feel nice? You know I used to bathe you two like this every day. You were such sweet obedient boys."

His mother's reference to their shared history impressed Thomas with the deviancy of their current arrangement—a taboo twist on what had once been a conventional domestic ritual. And Thomas suddenly found himself aroused, not despite his mother but because of her.

"That ought to do it." She stood, reached for the shower head, and leveled it at her boys. Their erections danced delightfully under the pressure of the blast as the hair came away with the foam and cascading water, leaving them smooth and clean.

"Oh, isn't that lovely?" she exclaimed. "You look so beautiful. Why have you been hiding your pretty cocks beneath all that hair?" She stepped aside in order to give the twins a better view of themselves in the mirror. "Don't you boys look sweet?"

Timothy imagined he looked bigger. His cock protruded distinctly from his body, emphasized by the loss of hair. It wasn't a bad look, he decided.

She helped her boys out of the bathtub, and they stood dripping on the bath mat before her. The family formed an intimate triangle, the boys' bare shoulders touching, the distance from their mother's warm, exposed skin reduced further in the limited space.

Using a towel, she patted the boys dry, nestling them each in velvety warmth.

"There, doesn't that feel nice? So smooth and soft?"

She leaned back to admire her handiwork. "Oh, the ladies will adore this. A woman loves to feel her man's smooth skin against her pussy. Trust me."

With her sons dried, she reached for their discarded underwear and helped her boys back into their panties, giving each of her sons a loving pat on his backside.

Timothy gasped softly at the sensation of the material against his bare skin.

"There, doesn't that feel so much better?"

In fact, it did. Timothy couldn't deny it. With each minute movement, he could feel the shiny satin shift and slip against his smooth genitals sending waves of gentle pleasure through his body.

"And you look like such perfect little gentlemen."

She stood then and turned, wagging her enticing rump at her thoroughly aroused boys.

"Follow me."

***

Mrs. Henderson returned her sons to the living room sofa, retrieved a black paper shopping bag from the kitchen, and lowered herself into the armchair opposite them. The boys sat, a generous gap between them, with their hands in their laps, an ineffective attempt to conceal the hardons that distended their panties. Their mother delighted in their sudden embarrassment and indulged in a lingering examination of each boy's amusing anxiety.

"I realize you're feeling a little uncomfortable," she said. "I know this is all a bit unusual, but you must try to relax, boys. Don't be shy. Your doctor has asked me to keep you in as persistent a state of arousal as possible. And so I know it's maybe a little awkward, but I need to be able to see your erections." She gestured at the twins to move their hands. Timothy reluctantly revealed himself to his mother. His penis was gratifyingly stiff, the silhouette of his cock discernible through the thin covering of satin, and his mother began to salivate.

"To that end—" she endeavoured to continue. "You are to wear nothing but your new panties while at home. I have to regularly monitor your arousal. That means your genitals must be displayed and easily accessible to me at all times."

Thomas shifted uncomfortably. He was not accustomed to being so exposed. The shared bath had been strange. But the experience of sitting, visibly aroused, in the middle of the living room in a pair of women's underwear was outrageous. The combination of the unlikely scenario and his mother's seeming preoccupation with his dick served to lend the whole experience an air of unreality.

"Now, here's the fun part. Dr. Kim has prescribed a daily pattern of prolonged arousal and eventual orgasm. I've got some sexy activities planned for you, but your constant stimulation will accomplish nothing if you run off to your bedrooms and tug yourselves off the moment you get excited. Instead, you will have a regular ejaculatory schedule. You will be allowed to masturbate once a day. But I'll have to observe you. To monitor your progress—your state of arousal, the volume of your ejaculate, things like that."

Timothy groaned. "Jesus."

"I hope we can all manage to have some fun together. But no matter how excited you may feel, how urgently you may be tempted to satisfy yourselves, you are to keep your hands at your sides until I say so. Like polite young gentlemen. Understood?"

"Understood," the boys murmured in unison.

"Good." She reached for the TV remote and turned on the television. "I've prepared a couple of things, and I'd like to see how they affect your excitement." She tapped her phone a couple of times, and the screen sprang to life.

With some embarrassment, Timothy immediately recognized the video.

"Thomas, I believe this is one of your brother's favorites. I'll be curious to hear your thoughts."

It was a scene Timothy had found online and enjoyed so much he'd saved it to his computer, where his mother had presumably found it.

It was a kind of music video that had been edited together from other popular sex scenes. It was a fast-paced, frenetic survey of contemporary porn, a chorus of female ecstasy whose featured starlets all had one thing in common.

"Timothy likes busty women, don't you dear?"

The compilation seemed to emphasize the exaggerated busts of its subjects. There were short clips of oil-drizzled breasts, breasts that were aggressively massaged through the thin cover of a bikini top. Another woman's breasts bounced provocatively as she enthusiastically slammed herself against her prone companion. A Japanese woman who, taken on her back, forced her breasts together and allowed them to rock up and down in time with her partner's thrusts.

"Oh my, Timothy. This is very sexy, isn't it? Is this the kind of woman you fantasize about?"

Timothy couldn't answer. He was petrified by the excitement of their sordid arrangement—his half-nude mother admiring his erection as he watched pornography.

"I can see why you like her?" Mrs. Henderson said of the asian pornstar. "Most asian women are very petite. But she has lovely, big titties, doesn't she? Look at the way they move."

Timothy had difficulty keeping his eyes off his mother, her own enormous breasts.