This is a work of fiction.
It was my senior year of high school, and I was just finishing what most would consider the awkward high school stage of my life. I had just turned 18, was getting ready to go off for college, and I was starting to get a better idea about who I was and what I wanted to do with my life.
My mom was a business woman and was always dressed accordingly. She wore suits with skirts, pantyhose, and heels almost daily. I was still figuring out exactly what I liked in girls, and more often than not, my eyes were constantly drawn to long legs and nice asses. The summer was heaven, seeing as how all the girls would wear flip flops or no shoes at all. More so than my love of nice legs, was my love of feet. They were the most sexually arousing weapons that girls were armed with if they had a cute pair of feet.
Living in a house with just my mother, we had established a comfort zone around one another. There were unwritten agreements about what was appropriate to see, and what was not. In accordance, I never bothered my mother when she was showering or changing, and she never bothered me either. I had never seen my mother naked, but we had a pool, and with the bikinis she wore,
I got a pretty good idea of what she would have looked like. 34 C tits, legs that went on for days and were absolutely gorgeous, but it was her feet that were the constant catchers of my eyes. They were the cutest, most perfect pair of feet I had ever laid eyes upon.
My curiousity got the better of me at the beginning of my senior year. I had just gotten home from school, my mom wouldn't be home for another few hours, and I had the house to myself. I went snooping. Into her room, and straight to the dresser I went. I opened the top drawer to find that it was almost clompletely full of different colors of pantyhose and tights from pink and red, to blue, black, beige, and purple. You name it, she had it. All different opacities, and sheerness. It was like opening a treasure chest. I started looking through, pulling out pairs that I had seen her wear, others that I would like to see her wear more often.
The feeling of the nylon material was very pleasurable. I would carress it in my hands and stretch it. Then, I noticed that I had started getting a bit hard. This was no surprise to me. I had spent the last few years or so since puberty exploring my body and making myself moan into pillows at night, or leaving myself breathless in the shower. I couldn't help it. Sexual pleasure
was something I had found and continuously wanted more of. I was never satisfied. So, when I noticed that I was erect, for the fourth time today, I didn't even need to think twice. I pulled my pants off and started stroking my cock right there in the closet. I started reaching my peak, and a thought occured to me to put one of my mom's thigh high stockings on my cock and cum
into it. So that's exactly what I did. The orgasm was amazing, and left me craving for more, but I couldn't push my luck.
I grabbed the cum soaked thigh high I had just used, put all the pantyhose back into her drawer with no particular care on putting them back the way that I had found them, and left my mom's room. She came home from work, changed clothes, and didn't notice a thing. So I had continued that ritual for a few months by now. Regularly coming home, jerking off into one of her many pairs of pantyhose and then going on about my business. I always remembered to wash the used pantyhose with my own clothes and put them back whenever I had a chance. I was a genius. Not only that, although inadvertant, the clumsy way I had of putting her pantyhose back, with my favorite pairs on the top, had lead to her wearing the pairs of pantyhose I liked more often. I thought this was a coincidence. But I would soon find out that I was wrong.
