Author's Note: A long time ago I read a story about a son who keeps stealing his mothers panties and the dad just lets it happen. Thing is, I can't find it. So I decided to write my own take on it. This is a pretty trashy story, but one I wanted to try.
Part 4 of Bully's Mom Has Got It Going On is also still in the early planning stage. There's a lot of expectations around it and I want to make sure I deliver something good.
ALL CHARACTERS IN THIS STORY ARE OVER EIGHTEEN.
***
My wife, Aubrey, marched into the lounge, where I watched TV.
"Phil, he's done it again, look!"
I looked at my wife's hand and noticed she was holding a pair of her black lacy panties.
"I found these in our son's room AGAIN! Look, you can even see the spunk stains!" Aubrey exclaimed, showing me the seat of the underwear that was stained yellow.
"What do you expect me to do?" I asked her, turning back to the TV. "I've told him to stop, but he won't listen."
"Well, make him listen!" she replied angrily. "You need to have a word with him."
"Alright, alright, I will," I said, annoyed at her for nagging me while I was trying to watch my show. She sighed and marched out of the room in a huff.
Some time later, my son arrived home from school. Patrick was taller than me by nearly a whole foot, so I didn't even bother getting out of my chair.
"Hey dad," he said, greeting me with a nod as he walked by the lounge.
"Hey champ, can we talk for a second? I need to have a word with you." I asked, turning off the TV and turning towards him.
"What is it?" he asked, looking down at me. I took a deep breath.
"Patrick... you should stop stealing your mother's underwear," I asked, my voice a bit shaky from the awkwardness.
"I dunno, she's got really nice panties," Patrick replied, shrugging his shoulders.
"She's noticed you've been taking them," I told him, sighing. "She keeps coming to me and complaining, and it's getting out of hand."
Patrick just smirked and rolled his eyes. "Whatever."
I slumped back in my chair as Patrick walked away, unmoved. I turned the TV back on and folded my arms, certain I had not really changed anything. I started to think back as to where the hell I went so wrong.
Since we had Patrick, our marriage has become one of necessity. Aubrey and I seldom slept with each other, and when we did, it would hardly be anything passionate. Even our sex felt mechanical and routine. What didn't help was that I could rarely last longer than a minute or so unless things progressed at a snail's pace.
During a clean one day, I found a vibrator Aubrey had stashed away in a shoe box. It made sense that if she wasn't satisfied with me, she would rely on such a thing. Rather than confront her about it, I did what I always do. Keep my head down and say nothing.
It's not like I could even criticise her either. Early into our marriage, when I realised the sex wasn't fulfilling us, I found myself looking at internet porn way more often. What's worse is that I never really felt guilty for it either, considering my own wife had a plastic replacement for me.
Now our son is eighteen and all grown up. Not much has changed over the last decade. I sleep with my wife maybe once every few months, and I jack off to porn on my phone. And now, to make things worse, my own son has taken an interest in his own mother.
I get why he would, really. Aubrey's always been a health nut. Even approaching fifty, she keeps herself in shape. She's no linebacker, but she's done a lot better than me. I like to think all my fat makes me strong, but the truth is, I'm overweight and lazy.
It's clear Patrick takes more after her in every way. He's way taller than me, with broad shoulders and a really good physique. Even I wasn't at his level in my prime years. And he's only getting stronger.
So with all this in mind, I shouldn't have been too surprised when Patrick stopped coming to me for advice as he got older. It's not like he had much to look up to.
I proceeded to flick through the channels, trying to take my mind off things. I could hear Aubrey in the other room complaining to her friend on the phone about me. All things considered, it was a pretty typical Friday night.
***
A week or so later, I heard my wife march down the stairs with the same pissed off look in her eyes.
"You need to go talk to him - right now!" she barked, not even making eye contact as she stomped by.
I was confused and sat up. "About what?"
"He's not even trying to hide it!" she shouted from the other room.
I begrudgingly got up and walked up the stairs towards Patrick's room. I noticed the door was wide open and peaked my head inside. Patrick was lying down in his bed, with his boxers around his ankles, masturbating feverishly with a pair of her used panties. In his spare hand, he was holding a photo of Aubrey and me from our honeymoon, except he was covering my face with his thumb.
I was in a state of shock. Knowing your son was doing this sort of stuff was one thing, but seeing it was another entirely. I felt like I was frozen, staring at him, wondering if he was even aware that I was standing there.
"Patrick," I said quietly.
"What is it, Dad?" he replied casually, still pumping his fist.
I didn't know how to respond. Any normal father would have belted their son by now. Or at the very least, throw him out of the house by the scruff of his shirt. So why did I stand there dumbfounded? I think a part of it was the sheer size of Patrick's dick. It's clear he didn't inherit that from me. I was just a few meager inches on a good day. Patrick, on the other hand, looked like he had a baseball bat between his legs.
"I-I..." was all I managed to whisper before being cut off.
"Hey Dad, what color are mom's tits? Does she shave down there too?"
I was at a loss for words. Instead of being angry, I found myself being drawn to answer his questions instead.
"S-Sometimes. And they're kind of dark."
Patrick moaned, closing his eyes and continuing to stroke his dick, still gripping Aubrey's dirty panties. Out of nowhere, he thrust his hips up into the air and shot out a typhoon of boy spunk into the underwear. The sheer force alone pierced through the thin fabric and splattered across his hand and chest.
My heart felt like it was about to jump out of my chest. I felt a wave of emotions hit me. All of them foreign to me. It was as if seeing my son lust over my wife was turning me on somehow.
I didn't understand how any of this could even be arousing. Yet there I was, standing in his doorway with a boner that barely poked out through my tracksuit.
Patrick lay there motionless for a moment. He let go of the photo and Aubrey's panties and let them flop onto his stomach. Then he turned to me.
"Here, dad," he said, tossing the ruined undies towards me. "I'm done with these."
The underwear fell at my feet with a thud, as if the weight of his jizz had added a metric ton to it.
I bent down and picked up the used underwear with my thumb and forefinger. The scent of it made my stomach do a little flip.
"Can you close the door on your way out?"
"R-Right.." I stammered, shutting the door behind me and heading back downstairs, dirty panties in hand.
I quickly made my way to the laundry, threw them in the hamper, and washed my hands thoroughly. I then headed into the kitchen, grabbed a beer, and sat down at the table, thinking to myself about what the hell I had just witnessed and been a part of.
Aubrey walked in shortly after.
"So? Did you tell him off?" she asked, crossing her arms sternly at me.
"Uh, yeah. He shut his door, and I got your underwear back," I replied, distorting the truth of what had occurred. She lit up a bit hearing this.
"Good, it's about time you laid down the law with him," she said, patting me on the shoulder and walking away.
Later that night, Aubrey and I were preparing to go to bed. She had almost finished drying her hair, and I was already under the covers reading one of my books. She walked around the room naked, still brushing her hair and preparing her things for tomorrow. I couldn't help but watch her out of the corner of my eye.
Any other night, I would have just not bothered. But tonight, something felt different. As she turned her back to me, I noticed how fat her behind had gotten over the past few years. Having a child meant some weight gain, and she was no exception. Her breasts had a little sag but were beyond DD's. I was starting to maybe understand why my son had such a fascination with his own mother.
Aubrey put the brush down on her dresser and looked at herself in the mirror. She lifted her hair up and ran her hands down her body, admiring herself.
"Lord, I need to get back to the gym. I feel so fucking big," she said, frowning and sucking in her gut. She didn't have that much fat on her, but she was always very self-critical of her appearance.
"You look fine, dear. You're as beautiful as the day I married you," I replied.
She turned and feigned a smile at me before turning back.
"And our son would also vouch that you're a total fox," I said, grinning a bit.
Aubrey put her hands on her hips and turned back at me. "Phil, that's fucked up. He's our son," Aubrey replied fairly coldly.
"Oh, come on, you're not even a little flattered by it? He's surrounded by high school girls, and he still picked you over them."
I saw Aubrey's face twist up as she contemplated what I said. It was like she was denying herself from feeling anything but disgust at the situation, regardless of how she may have really felt.
"Hey Phil, are you tired?"
"Not really, why?"
Aubrey didn't reply. She walked over to the door and locked it, then flicked off the lights. She climbed into bed and wasted no time at all, passionately kissing me. I was shocked, but certainly not upset. It was a rare occasion for us to even have a proper snuggle, let alone do something sexual.
In just under a minute, we were both undressed. I lay there holding onto Aubrey's hips as she bounced on my cock like a spring. We didn't say anything at all during it, as if we were both pent-up animals trying to relieve ourselves.
After just a few minutes, I felt my orgasm on the horizon. I was about to warn her, but my quickshot cock exploded before I was able to. I groaned and bucked my hips, jetting out a meagre few spurts of cum. None of which fell inside her, as my cock slipped out and shot onto my hairy stomach.
Aubrey rolled off and sat next to me on the edge of the bed, still catching her breath.
