I'm an 18 year old guy who loves women's lingerie. I don't like to dress up in them, but it turns me on to see a woman in stockings, bras, negligees...and especially panties and/or pantyhose. Who knows why? I'm sure a shrink could explain to me, but I'm not hurting anyone. I don't peek at women, don't force any to indulge my fetish. I like what I like. I'm not apologizing for it.
I'm Gary, and I'm a senior in high school, starting college in a few months. I'll be staying home for school because it's not only very inexpensive, but it also has a killer chemical engineering program, 5 years for a full Masters degree. It's a steal.
I live alone with my mom, Janice. Dad left when I was 6, said he didn't want to be married or raise a kid, so he took off, and good riddance. We've never heard from him since and we don't care where he is. My mom is a tax lawyer, which was part of the problem because during tax season, she had to work long hours, and as dad said "he didn't get married to be left with a brat to raise." He told her either quit or goodbye. So, goodbye.
Mom, thankfully makes a good living, but we're not rich. She could have afforded to send me to a major university, but I figured I could still get a great education and save her a significant part of her savings. Before I get into my story, some details about us.
I'm dedicated to mom, but not a momma's boy. I date, sometimes get lucky with a girl, sometimes not so much. I'm 5'11", brown hair, hair on my chest, nice body from playing soccer and swimming when I can, and a healthy 7 inch and thick cock. I won't be in porn movies (like I would!) but I've got nothing to be ashamed of. Not shaved, no tats, no piercings.
Now mom. She's 5'5", brunette hair that's cut short and cute. She's 40, nice curves but not fat, with nice legs, 38C breasts and 38 inch hips. Her face is lovely, nice fair skin. Most men think she's sexy and I know she could be dating a lot more than she does.
We're very open with each other. She let me know from puberty that I could always, no matter what, come to her if I had a problem, got in trouble, questions about anything (including sex), and if she couldn't answer, she'd find out the answer or find someone who could help. She taught me the facts of life when I was 11 and taught me the importance of respecting women and respecting myself.
We share a nice condo together and share the chores as well. I've even learned how to cook some things. Like most boys, I'd thought I'd never want to cook ("women's work") until mom told me once that someday I'd be living on my own, possibly on a tight budget, and it's a lot cheaper to eat well if you cook it than it is to order from restaurants every night. It stuck with me, and over the years I've picked up some things here and there, like roasting a chicken or a pot roast, grilling steaks and fish etc. I'm getting pretty good at it. And it helps mom when she has to work late or from home at night, which is pretty much every night from January through April.
Anyway, the condo is nice but not huge, and there have been times over the years I've seen mom getting ready to go to work or to go out, seeing her partially dressed in her bra, panties and pantyhose. Mom or not, she's a very attractive woman and teenage boys can get a boner when the wind blows. Seeing her like that, with her almost flat tummy and very womanly curves filling out her underwear, with some makeup on her pretty face, would inevitably get to me. If she left before I did, I'd furiously beat off to relieve the pressure in my balls before heading out to school or whatever I was doing.
I got to the point where, when I had a girlfriend or a date that ended in sex, I'd sometimes ask the girl to show me her panties, let me fuck her in them, maybe rub my swollen dick on her pantyhose for a bit. The reactions were varied, from being very interested in playing along down to "what are you, some kind of pervert?" Those reactions made for bad nights, coming home with blue balls and the fear the girl might tell everyone in school.
One such night, I came home really aching in my groin. I could barely walk upright when I came in the door. Mom was sitting on the couch, enjoying a rare quiet evening, just vegging out watching a movie. She hadn't expected me to come home so early, knowing I was on a date. She also noticed I wasn't walking quite right.
"Gary? What's wrong? Why are you home so early? And why are you walking funny?"
Being open about things with your mother is one thing; telling her your date ended in a little humiliation and blue balls is another.
"I'm ok, mom, we just didn't have a good time together, so I came home early, ok?"
"Really? You've been out with Linda a few times; I thought you two were hitting it off."
"Well, we didn't tonight. If you don't mind, I'm just going to my room. Goodnight mom. Love you."
"Wait a minute there. Freeze." She could have such a commanding voice when she needed. "That doesn't explain to me why you're walking bent over like that. Did she...hit you, there, in your testicles?"
"No mom! Nothing like that! I swear! Can I just go to my room, please?"
She was quiet for a moment, eyeing me closely, and said "Fine. Go ahead, and just look after your "problem". She was definitely no dummy, and she probably suspected what my "problem" was though not the cause.
Half an hour later, my "problem" dealt with, I was stretched out on my bed, proofreading a history paper I was working on on my laptop, when there was a soft knock on my door. "Gary, can I come in for a minute?"
"Sure mom, come on in."
She opened the door slowly, peeking around the door, as if to make sure the coast was clear, that she wasn't interrupting "something". She then walked in smoothly. "May I sit down, honey?"
"Sure mom, what's on your mind?"
She sat at my desk, facing me, and said "Gary, honey, I'm pretty sure I know why you were walking funny when you came home. I'm not exactly unfamiliar with men and their biological functions" she said with a wry expression.
I turned maybe three shades of red. "Mom, do we really have to go there?"
"I just want to make sure that you're not hurt. I've always told you that you can talk to me about anything. However unusual or however embarrassing, I promise you I've heard or read about or experienced it all before. It's not like your generation invented sex, Gary."
I was still blushing, but objectively, I knew she was right. I just had to decide whether I really wanted to talk about this with her. I thought, she's always been straight with me before, never judgmental about these kind of things. Fuck it.
"Ok, mom. You know I'm not a virgin, right?"
"I assumed as much. We've talked about sex. You do use protection, don't you? You're too young for fatherhood!"
I cringed a little. "Yes mom, always. I promise! But anyway, tonight didn't go so well. I mean, it started out great, we were at her house, her parents weren't home, one thing led to another..." I paused.
"All right. So? What's the problem?"
