Hubby's Golfing Group Text

You'd think my husband would've told me he was having a few of his golfing buddies over before I went to bed.

Let me share a few intimate details about myself. I enjoy sleeping commando--naked, no panties, no bra. I have a beautiful set of 38Ds, a cute face, strawberry blonde hair, blue eyes, and very sexy legs, as I was once an amateur hosiery model. I also sport a 70s-style retro bush.

More often than not, I enjoy falling asleep in hosiery--pantyhose, to be specific. I've grown accustomed to the silky, sensual feeling they add under the cool sheets, plus the added warmth in colder months or during summer when the AC is on.

I enjoy my red wine--who am I kidding? I enjoy any wine or alcohol, for that matter. After work, I like to slip off my heels, stretch my toes, pour some wine, and indulge in a cigarette or two.

My after-work attire is a pair of yoga pants and an oversized sweatshirt because I like to feel comfy. Needless to say, my silky, nylon-encased feet are breathing, walking around barefoot after suffocating in heels all day.

Being in a house with two males and being the only female can, at times, be a challenge. Our son is 19 now, taking a gap year to decide what he wishes to do. Over the last few years, I've noticed some changes. He's expressed an eagerness to do laundry, which came as a huge surprise. He's always showering at all hours of the night, he's been attentive to my feelings, and has expressed wanting to help me when he finds I'm alone. More recently, I discovered that he may have a nylon hosiery fetish like his father.

Last week, after returning home from work earlier than usual, I decided to give my son a break and do the laundry. I stopped by his room and grabbed his clothes. As I was sorting, I noticed what I thought was an inside-out pocket. When I went to tuck it back in, I realized it was soft and silky--it was sheer nylon. I pulled it out, and it turned out to be a thigh-high stocking. It could've been one of mine, but it wasn't familiar.

Examining it closer, I noticed it had several white stains that were visibly prominent against the suntan shade and crusty in spots. OMG! I just found my son's cum rag!

That explains it--now it's clear why he wants to do the laundry. Who does that stocking belong to? Where did he get it? Does he wear them? All these thoughts ran through my head. That's a battle for another day, I thought as I gulped a huge swig of my wine.

It was about 8:00 when I decided to call it a night. I was feeling the wine, and my mind was in a total fog. I went to say goodnight to my son, who was playing some game with his headphones on. I called out his name and walked in, but he didn't hear me come in. I leaned in to kiss his neck, and he jumped. "Goodnight," I said. "Oh, you scared me," he said. "Goodnight, Mom." I wanted so desperately to discuss finding his cum rag, but I just didn't have enough liquid courage in me.

I said goodnight to my husband and told him I was going to bed. He looked up just enough from his phone to say, "Goodnight."

I undressed and slipped into bed. I didn't even put the TV on. I don't remember falling asleep--it felt like I slept for hours. Still mentally exhausted, I groggily looked at the clock, and it was only 10:45. If I didn't have to pee, I would've kept sleeping.

Putting on my robe and loosely tying it, I walked out of our bedroom, down the hall, and downstairs to the guest bathroom. Walking down the stairs loosened my robe, leaving it fully open by the last step.

Startled by catcalls, whistles, and flashing lights, my squinted eyes opened in disbelief. There, in our family living room, were over half a dozen of my husband's golfing buddies.

I froze, realizing my robe was totally open. I immediately tried to close it--not a moment too soon, for my huge tits were hanging free, and my dark, overgrown retro bush between my legs, tightly encased in silky, sheer suntan nylon pantyhose, left nothing to the imagination.

Flushed, I turned and ran up the stairs into my bedroom, slamming the door behind me.

OMG! What the fuck! I screamed. Taking the last gulp of wine, I wished I had another bottle. Ugh! Lying down, I put myself to sleep in the fetal position.

I woke up to my husband slamming drawers and doors. "What's the matter?" I asked. "This," my husband said, showing me his cell phone. Apparently, he wasn't aware of what happened last night. There were multiple full-frontal nude photos of me. It's obvious that several had been edited so the moment was truly captured.

I slapped his phone away from my face, blaming him for not telling me he was going to have his friends over, no less at that hour of the night. "It's my fucking house!" I screamed.

My husband started saying something when I immediately cut him off, screaming in his face that it was all his fault. "Where were you, anyway?" I asked. "I was in the kitchen, getting some drinks for my guests," he said.

"Expecting people in my living room at that hour was the absolute last thing I could've ever imagined," I said as I got out of bed, naked except for the suntan pantyhose I slept in--evidence from last night's fiasco.

Putting on my robe and tying it tightly around my waist to ensure it wouldn't come loose again, I slipped into a pair of open-toe slippers and headed downstairs.

By the third step, the strong smell of freshly brewed coffee hit my nose. Both my husband and son were sitting at the table. Pouring myself a cup, I turned around, leaning against the counter, appreciating the aroma and taking a sip. While rehashing last evening's events, I noticed an awkwardness and figured it had to do with last night.

After a few sips, I pulled out a chair and sat across from them. With my legs crossed, dangling my slipper off my toes, I asked them, "What're the plans for today?" My husband said he was going for a noon tee time, and my son interjected, saying he was joining as well. "I guess I'll be home alone today," I said as I let the slipper fall from my toes, exposing my silky nylon foot for both to ogle.

The tension between them was weird. I noticed my son seemed distant and ignored my silky nylon foot, which is uncommon for him. Normally, his attention is solely focused on my legs and feet, which my husband seems oblivious to. He didn't even make eye contact with me. Did my husband say something to him? I wondered.

"Better get going," my husband said as they both got up and headed out of the kitchen. Picking up the coffee cups and putting them into the sink, my phone buzzed. It was a text from an unknown number.

**Caller Text:** "Your husband is a very lucky man."

**Me:** Who is this?

Silence.

Waiting...

Nothing. Hmm. Well, whoever it was will just need to text back or forget it, for it's an unknown number.

I walked into my bedroom and started to disrobe when my husband stepped from behind the closet door. He sidestepped me, closing our bedroom door, and said, "We need to talk."

Sitting back on the side of the bed, naked except for the pantyhose I was wearing, I asked, "What's up?"

"All morning long, the guys have been breaking my balls, saying stuff, and, you know."

"Know what?" I asked.

"Saying shit about how you look, that you have such big, fuckable tits. They all said they were in shock that you have such a hairy bush and what a body you have, and that they'd all fuck you if they had the chance."

Making lemonade from lemons, I said, "Well, you should be proud that all your buddies feel that way about your wife, right? Is that all they said? C'mon, you can tell me anything--you know that!"

"De said that your bush looks fucking amazing, like a woman of the Amazon, and--"

"And what? And who's De?" I asked.

"De, short for Dejon, and--"

"And what?"

"He said he'd let his anaconda go into your thick bush anytime."

"OMG!" escaped my mouth.

"Which one is Dejon?" I asked, knowing fully he's the only Black friend my husband has.

"He's the big guy, the one that looks like a football player," he said.

Not gonna lie--as soon as my husband said De, an electric pulse shot directly to my pussy. "It's okay, honey," I said. "I'm flattered."

"Well, there's one more guy who's seen your photos and had the balls to comment," he said.

"And who might that be?" I asked.

"Jacob," he said.

"And what did Jacob say?" I asked.

"He said that I'm a very lucky man to have such a beautiful wife with such big, beautiful breasts, a gorgeous hairy mound, and the sexiest legs ever seen, especially in pantyhose."

"Wow," I said. "That wasn't that bad--actually respectfully put and quite flattering. So, which one is Jacob?" I asked.

"Your fucking son!" my husband cried out.

The silence that filled the room was broken only by the sound of a mower a few houses down cutting the lawn. "What did you do?" I asked. "I can't believe you let our son see those pictures," I said, shaking.

"He's in the golf chat. He's in the chat," my husband kept sputtering.

It just dawned on me, still processing that our son has been masturbating with my panties and nylons, and now he has a vivid visualization of what I look like naked.

"OMG! Agh!" I shouted at my husband. "I can't believe you let this happen."

"Get the fuck out! Go play your game! Get out!" I said as I pushed my husband out of our room, my silky nylon feet sliding as I tried forcefully to push him out, my boobs jumping with each push and shove.

Slamming the door behind him, my back to the door, I took a deep breath. I realized my breasts had swelled, my nipples were hard, and I was flushed with fever. This was just too much to take in.

Everything was running through my head: my husband's friends witnessed me almost naked, the comments from his buddies saying they'd fuck me, then his only Black friend wanting to let his anaconda loose in my bush, and that our very own son had been masturbating and now has seen--and has pictures of--me naked. How much more could I possibly take?

Hearing the doors slam and the car starting, I knew I'd have some time to myself. I walked downstairs, talking to myself, went to the kitchen bar, grabbed a bottle of Merlot and a glass, and turned to go upstairs to take a relaxing bath.

While lying in the bath on my second glass of wine, the comments my husband shared that he received from our son kept playing in my head on a loop:

"You're a very lucky man to have such a beautiful wife with such big, beautiful breasts, a gorgeous hairy mound, and the sexiest legs ever seen, especially in pantyhose."

By now, I was on my fourth glass of wine or so, talking to myself that he's commenting about my tits, my hairy bush, and my legs in pantyhose. He fucking knows about my pantyhose. He's been playing with them, cumming in them--who knows, probably even smelling and licking them. I wanted so badly to blame it all on his being a pervert, yet he's a smart, handsome, strapping man who inherited his father's fetish for silky, sheer nylon pantyhose.

OMG, I said to myself, I can't believe my son actually said such things! I can't believe he has pictures of me. I can't believe that Dejon wants to fuck me with his long, Black anaconda cock! FUCK! I finished off the bottle, this time skipping the glass and sipping from the bottle. On the last sip, I swallowed with the thought of all these cocks wanting to fuck me, including my very own son.

I rubbed the neck of the empty bottle over my lips, then into my mouth as if it were a cock. Unfulfilled by the feeling, I had a desire to feel penetrated. Stepping from the bath, I carefully dried off and made my way to my bed, with the wine bottle in one hand and the pantyhose I was wearing in the other. I lay in bed.

Bringing the freshly worn pantyhose to my nose, I inhaled. I found them satisfying, having captured the scent of my pussy. I poked my tongue at the tiny cotton panel crotch, tasting the salty secretions that had escaped between yesterday's and today's wear.

I tied the pair of pantyhose around my head, lining the tiny crotch with my nose. I then explored my pussy with the neck of the wine bottle. It felt cool and smooth as it found my lips. I was already wet--and not from the bath. I gently pushed it in. While breathing in the scent of my own pussy, I pushed the bottle in. It felt okay but not satisfying. Thoughts of both Dejon, who I can only imagine has a long, thick, Black fucking snake, and our son, who has been satisfying himself sexually with my intimates--I'm sure he's at most average size.

Under the spell of several glasses of wine and feeling desirable, I desperately needed to fuck or get fucked. In spite of being married, my pussy has felt neglected for the last several years, and truthfully, at this point, I don't care who takes care of my needs, for I need to get fucked. I'm not ruling out hubby's big Black friend or--please help me for saying this--my son.

I sprung from bed to my closet and rummaged through an old, oversized pocketbook that housed one of my favorite, larger-sized rubber dildos. Taking it out and holding it in my hands brought me back to a time when my husband and I fucked multiple times a day, weekly, pausing only when my Aunt Flo was visiting. By the time the honeymoon phase settled and I'd given birth to our son, sex was almost nonexistent. Needing to save our marriage for the sake of our son, I went to a store several towns over to purchase a surrogate cock.

For those of you who've purchased before, you know the kind of store I'm talking about and the type of selection they have. I'm not gonna lie--I love sex, love cock, and if I was choosing a surrogate, I sure as fuck wasn't going to get one comparable to my husband. I went for one much larger and thicker. Timid at first with my decision-making, I rationalized that I was a new mom, still healing after giving birth, and that I could handle a larger one.

Truth be told, years earlier, I was diagnosed in medical terms with a "deep and tilted cervix." In simple words, I'm made deep with a slight tilt. Medically and sexually, I'm made for an above-average, long, thick dick--porn star-like--without causing any pain or discomfort, allowing for deep, maximum penetration.

Wanting maximum sensation, I hand-washed the oversized phallus with hot water, bringing the feel to a warm, lifelike temperature. I used a blend of coconut and grapeseed oil as a lube as I stroked and massaged it in.

Climbing into bed, and... my phone buzzed.

**Caller Text:** "Your body is amazing. What I wouldn't do to you."

**Me:** Who is this? How did you get my number? How do you know what I look like?

Silence.

Waiting...

**Caller Text:** Your warm smile, those big, beautiful breasts, your hairy mound encased in sheer nylon, and those sexy, nylon-encased legs and feet.

**Me:** Who is this?

Silence.

Waiting...

Putting my phone down, I pulled the pair of pantyhose over my head, resembling a robber. I then found a position and spread my legs. OMG, I was so wet and ready for this. I brought the large, thick dildo to my wet lips and gently rubbed them. The warmth from the phallus and the friction enhanced the sensation. The more I rubbed the head over my lips, the wetter I became. My pussy succumbed to the sensation, lips falling open, exposing my tight, wet, neglected vagina. The pressure of the plum-like pink head pushing its way into my tight opening made me gasp.

Taking a deep breath, I pushed a little deeper, and with a pop, the thick head entered. Pushing a little deeper, then replicating the in-and-out stroke of an actual cock fucking me. With my free hand, I explored, pinching and pulling on my nipples. My breathing grew rapid, as did the anticipation of taking more between my legs.

I arched my back, raised my hips to meet a deeper thrust. In my head, I replayed the comment about Dejon fucking me with his big anaconda cock. "Oh, yes!"

"Oh, fuck me!" I moaned as I pushed in deeper, pretending it was Dejon, replicating the stroking sensation that I imagined he'd be using. Spreading my legs wide, knees bent as if trying to get all of himself in me.

**Buzz, buzz.**

**Caller:** I bet you're a very giving woman. I would worship you from your silky nylon toes to those beautiful lips.

**Me:** Yeah, okay! You're not even man enough to tell me who you are!

**Caller:** Oh, I would.

Waiting...

**Caller:** Bet you haven't had a foot massage and your toes...

"Ahh, yeah, that's it--fuck my pussy. Fuck me!" I was now going harder and deeper. "Fuck, I'm so wet, and it feels amazing." I started bucking my hips to meet each thrust. Who the fuck is this texting me? It's obvious he wants to fuck me, I imagined. This guy, though, hasn't been rude or abusive--he just may be a nice guy.

Sweating and breathing heavily, the dildo was almost flush with my pubic mound. Shoving it in and out, I tried to think of Dejon, and it just wasn't doing it. With a strong pull, breaking the suction, a loud, fart-like sound escaped as the bulbous head came out.

Frustrated, I got up, legs shaking, to get some more lube. As I went to the table, my phone buzzed again. Fucking text, I said.

**Caller:** Bet you haven't had a foot massage and your toes...

**Me:** Toes, what?

Waiting...

Lubing up my surrogate cock--all 12 inches of it--looking forward to a much-needed cum. Lying down on the bed, I spread my legs, brought the head of the dildo to my puffy, wet opening, and the head found its way in easily.

I closed my eyes and slowly began to penetrate. Damn, it feels amazing.

**Buzz.**

**Caller:** Bet you haven't had a foot massage and your toes...

**Me:** Toes, what?

**Caller:** Your pretty, painted nylon toes sucked on.

Working the dildo in, I started to get into a rhythm. For some reason, the thought of my son masturbating with my panties and hose--and now he's seen me as a woman and not as his mom--came to mind. I didn't realize that while thinking about him stroking his cock, holding my soiled intimates, sniffing, smelling, licking, tasting, I was furiously shoving the dildo in and out, and I actually took it to its base.

OMG, augh! Oh my fuck, YES! My poor, neglected pussy flooded, cumming all around the thick rubber base of that miraculous cock! OMG, the thought of my son brought me off. I'm a horrible mother.

Coming off that unbelievable orgasm, my legs weak and shaking, I removed the dildo, leaving a gap between my legs and a puddle of wetness beneath me. OMG, that was fucking amazing. Staring at the sheets, the puddle of wetness was a result of thinking about my son masturbating. I didn't even think of him wanting to fuck me like the rest of the guys in the golf chat. I'm so terrible.

Needing desperately to take a shower and dress before my husband and son returned home, I looked at my phone:

**Caller:** Bet you haven't had a foot massage and your toes...

**Me:** Toes, what?

**Caller:** Your pretty, painted nylon toes sucked on.

**Me:** That sounds pretty kinky. May not want to, for my feet may smell.

**Caller:** Even better. I'm sure all your covered parts smell and taste divine.

**Me:** OMG!

**Caller:** OMG, what?

**Me:** OMG! Excuse me...

**Caller:** Excuse what?

**Me:** "COVERED PARTS"!!!

While waiting for this tit-for-tat back-and-forth texting with this stranger, I went into the shower. The hot water felt so good on my body. My poor pussy, sore and gaped open, seeing the reflection in the mirror--the lips swollen and red all around. I gently soaped and rinsed.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, I curled my fingers into the pantyhose, sliding my toes in and working them up over my naked body. Yes, they're the same pair that I wore over my face and for the last few days. Part of my fetish comes from the sensual exoticness of a naughty, dirty, taboo kind of way.

**Buzz.**

**Caller:** Excuse what?

**Me:** "COVERED PARTS"!!!

**Caller:** Yes, your hairy mound, that ripe ass, and delicious toes.

**Me:** Well, I never!!!

**Caller:** Well, maybe you should...

Having no idea who the hell is texting me, I don't dare tell my husband, and anyway, the messages haven't turned vulgar. Honestly, who's it hurting? I'm a bit intrigued to see where this goes.

**Buzz.**

What the fuck? Oh, okay.

**Jacob:** Hey, Mom, we're on our way home. Dad asked if you wanted pizza?

**Me:** Sounds lovely, sweetie.

**Buzz.**

**Caller:** I'd love to be the one tasting you while playing with your breasts.

**Buzz.**

**Jacob:** Cheese or pepperoni?

**Me:** I'll take your pepperoni.

FUCK! OMG, that wasn't meant to be said--I just thought it. Oh, fuck...

**Buzz.**

**Caller:** I would lick and suck those toes for hours.

**Me:** This is enough. Please don't text anymore!

**Buzz.**

**Jacob:** What?

Fuck me.

**Me:** Sorry, sweetie. Mommy didn't mean it like that. Pepperoni, please.

**Jacob:** K.

Losing track of time between changing the sheets, doing the morning dishes, and putting my face on, I heard the car doors slam.

"We're home!" my son yelled.

"Be right down!" I yelled. In only a pair of black, sheer yoga pants and a sweatshirt, I hurried down the stairs. "Smells good," I said as I met my son at the bottom of the stairs. He walked by with the pizza, almost banging himself into a chair at the dining room table because he was looking at his mother's nylon feet. That's my boy, I thought to myself.

Grabbing some paper plates and napkins, I put them on the table. Opening the box, I caught a whiff of hot, steamy, cheesy pizza with pepperoni. I immediately remembered the pepperoni comment I made to my son.

I took a slice, sat on the recliner, and flipped on Netflix, going to *Highlander*, picking up where we last left off. Crossing my legs, I played footsie with myself while eating and watching. I could feel the eyes of both my husband and my son.

Looking up, catching both looking at my silky nylon feet, I asked how their day was playing golf. "Okay," was echoed by both.

On the program, there was a scene where one of the younger women was being held down, forced to have sex. The distinguished gentleman, much older, lifted her dress and petticoat, parting her legs where she was wearing white thigh-high wool stockings, and he inserted himself. The scene lasted maybe two minutes, long enough to cause a silence, which was broken when the scene switched, and my son got up, saying he was going to take a shower. My husband excused himself as well.

Sitting on the recliner, looking at my nylon feet, wiggling my sexy, painted toes, I laid my head back, closed my eyes, and thought of the fucking I gave myself earlier.

**Buzz.**

**Caller:** Did you get wet?

**Me:** What? Excuse me.

**Caller:** Did the crotch of your pantyhose get wet?

Who the fuck is this? Which one of his friends would have the balls? I thought to myself.

**Caller:** Did me saying that I'd lick your mound, ass, and toes "excite you"?

**Me:** Who's this? Who the hell is this?

**Caller:** I'm just a man who would feast on you!

**Me:** What do you mean?

Feeling a bit frisky, I hopped off the recliner and went to see what my husband was up to. On the way to our room, I heard the shower running and thought I'd pop in to say hi to hubby. I tiptoed to the shower and peeked behind the shower curtain. I was going to fully open it and yell, "Boo!" when I was shocked to see my son soaping his fucking huge cock. OMG! I did all I could do but scream. I turned and practically ran out. I went into our room, where my husband was asleep in bed.

I felt a sickening feeling come over me as I walked out, closing the door behind me, not wanting to wake my husband. I just witnessed my very own son soaping a very large dick. Wait a minute, rationalizing with myself--I didn't do anything intentionally; it was by mistake. He's of legal age, he's been masturbating with my panties and hosiery, and he's just seen nude photos of me, so maybe we're even.

I went downstairs, poured myself a glass of red wine, and sat on the recliner. Not gonna lie, I said to myself that I have some very sexy feet, and my toes, painted crimson red, accentuated by the suntan, sheer pantyhose I'm wearing--how could any man resist? I said to myself, lol.

**Buzz.**

**Caller:** It means I would satisfy all of you with my tongue.

How do I answer that? I thought to myself. I have no idea who's on the other end.

Getting up, I poured another glass of wine, this time bringing the bottle with me. I answered my anonymous texter:

**Me:** Well, you happen to have caught me in a kinky, playful mood. I'll play along. I bet your tongue wouldn't know what to do with me!

**Caller:** Oh, you'd be surprised. What are you doing now?

**Me:** I'm sitting on a recliner, sipping some wine, and you?

**Caller:** I'm wishing I was on my knees at your pretty feet.

**Me:** That sounds pretty kinky! So you like feet?

**Caller:** I like any part of your body in nylon.

**Me:** Any part?

While waiting... guess I scared him away. Pouring myself another glass of wine and stretching out my legs, looking at my sexy nylon feet. I could see the attraction.

**Me:** What part?

**Caller:** All your lady parts.

That comment caused an electric surge between my legs. Hearing that a total stranger would worship my feet, toes, ass, and pussy is strangely erotic.

I never, ever--and I mean never, ever--wear panties under pantyhose. More often than not, a daily wear leaves the cotton crotch very well scented and crusty from my leaky pussy.

**Me:** Careful what you wish for, I stated to the Caller. I get quite wet!

Why did I say that? I wondered to myself.

"Hey, Mom," my son said, as I was lost in thought. "MOM," he said again, this time touching my shoulder. Startled, I turned quickly, looking up over my shoulder. Oh, sorry, hon, I was zoned out. "Okay," he said, "just wanted to say I'm going to sleep."

Taking a big gulp of wine, building up some liquid courage, I said, "Please sit down for a minute. I need to talk to you about something."

Sure, Mom, what is it?

Well, I know you're a man now, and as a healthy one at that. For the last several months, I've noticed several pairs of my pantyhose missing, and when I did the laundry, I found several pairs damp, sticky, crusty, and stained from what I can assume is your cum. "WAIT," before you try to say it wasn't you, that you don't know how or who, it's perfectly normal. I know it's you! And not your father; he gets the real thing. He doesn't need to abuse my nylons.

I also know you were one of the guys in your father's golf chat that had seen the photos taken of me while I was under the influence last night. Please don't tell me you didn't see anything or that you don't know what I'm talking about, for that ship has sailed.

And what is it about my wearing nylons that excites you enough that you look at me while I'm always wearing them and makes you masturbate in my worn hosiery?

Taking the last gulp of wine before getting up to pop another bottle. Fuck it, I thought, I'm gonna need this to handle the rest of this conversation.

Sitting back down, "Look at me," I said, "my eyes are up here. What is it about my feet that you're constantly staring at?"

"Answer me," I raised my voice, more assertive this time.

Mom, can I speak, please? Please go ahead, as I twisted the screw into the cork, popping it. Go on, I'm listening.

Okay, yes, yes, okay. It's been me. I'm the one who's been using your pantyhose to jerk off, I mean masturbate in. "Why?" I asked, taking a huge sip, hoping to dull the reality of his answers.

Ever since I was young, I found your legs and feet super sexy in hosiery. You're always walking around here in skirts, dresses, pants, even pajamas, and your nylon legs and feet are on display. It's, it's kinda your fault.

"But why masturbate in them? My fault?" I asked him, dreading his answer.

I've always noticed how smooth and sexy your legs looked, then looking at your feet, they're just perfect. Those sexy toes love all the shades--white, French, and red, my favorite on you--and that you wear silky, sheer nylon pantyhose all the time can bring the strongest man to his knees.

As far as masturbating in them, yes! I enjoy it. I envision you in them. I see you walking, sitting, bending, relaxing, driving, and being sexual in them. I've inhaled the nylon tips that encased your sexy toes. Yes, I've brought them to my nose more times than I can count to inhale that very intimate sexual scent that only you left behind, and...

"And what?" Go on.

And if inhaling your very intimate, sexual scent wasn't enough, yes, I've licked the cotton panel. I've put them over my nose so I could smell you, taste you, leaving my hands free to jerk off in another pair.

"ARE YOU HAPPY NOW?" he asked.

"NO! We're not finished here," I said, as I poured myself another glass of wine. If he wasn't here, I'd drink from the bottle.

I get all that, I said, and men will be men. Even though I'm your mother, I'm a woman second, and I'm sorry for not considering your feelings and for, unbeknownst to me, teasing you.

I'm sure the photos in the chat displayed me as a voluptuous woman, half-naked, dressed only in sheer, silky pantyhose and a short silk robe. I'm your mother and will always be your mother first. Do you understand me, young man?

Yes, of course, he answered.

Have you masturbated since looking at my pictures? I asked after taking another big sip of wine.

Be honest, please.

YES, he said reluctantly.

What did you find attractive about them? I asked.

Not wanting him to feel on the spot, why I said this I don't know, I'm blaming it on the almost three bottles of wine I've drunk throughout the course of today, having a sore, recently fucked pussy that I fucked with a large dildo, and being extremely horny.

Well, if it makes you feel any better, I said, I walked into the bathroom today while you were in the shower, and I saw something I wasn't expecting. And that was my baby boy, soaping a pepperoni stick-sized cock! There, I said it...

His face turned pale, and he looked like he saw a ghost. Oh, grow up, I said. Now you want to play shy?

So, tell me, what did you like about my pictures?

You saw me? Yes, I responded. And you saw me!!! So, big boy, we're even.

Now tell your mother what you liked about her pictures, I said as I stretched out my legs and fanned my nylon toes, and then rubbed both feet together. The sound of silky nylon caught his full attention.

Please, pretty please, I whimpered in a soft, sexy voice. Mommy really wants to know. He said, If I tell you, then you have to tell me what you thought about me.

This conversation may go beyond my wildest expectations. Okay, I blurted out.

Each and every photo is absolutely beautiful: you walking down the stairs, your hair disheveled, your short robe opened, your beautiful breasts swinging, and your lower half encased in sheer, silky, nylon, suntan pantyhose, not hiding your beautiful, mature, retro bush.

I think that and your feet had me stroking and cumming in an older pair of your pantyhose that I had hidden. Believe me, I looked all over for the pair you came down the stairs in and couldn't find them anywhere.

Ha, I'm still wearing that pair. LOL.

Well, that's so sweet of you to say. I never knew you felt that way. And your words, so sweet and sensitive, not vulgar nor harsh. I hope you seeing my photos doesn't change the way you look at me as your mother.

No, Mom... I look at you even deeper. I love and know you as a mother, and I'm crushing on you as a woman. I've masturbated my "pepperoni stick," as you called it, to the thought of just looking at you, kissing you, touching you, making love, and fucking you as a woman, not as my mother. The added benefit of you being my mother is that we'd never have to worry about either one of us sharing our secret, for it would be ours forever. We could kiss when alone. We'd not have to travel; we live under the same roof. When you or I want to share a sexual moment, we could when alone.

OMG! What the fuck are you saying or suggesting? I replied.

My pussy started pulsating while he was talking, explaining that he would worship me, massage my feet every single day, lick and suck my nylon toes. I felt my pussy leak hearing him say that he would go down on his knees and tongue fuck me. He said he loves my scent and taste. He said he's always wondered if his long, thick dick would fit in me and if he could make me cum.

We shouldn't be discussing this, I slurred. Go to bed. We'll talk about this some other time.

My son started tearing up as he confessed his love for me, almost begging for his mother's hand as his girl. We could be so happy. I could just imagine you coming into my room, slipping off your short robe, climbing into bed with me, only wearing pantyhose. We kiss like lovers and explore each other, feeling your beautiful breasts, rubbing you through the silky, sheer crotch of your pantyhose as our tongues explore each other.

When you're ready, we...

I'm, I'm not saying anything or suggesting anything, I'm just saying...

What are you saying?

And when you're ready, what?

And when you're ready, I will make love to you. I will slip my long, fat dick into you and make you cum several times before I fill you deep with my warm cum.

OMG! I can't believe you're saying this shit! I screamed, loud enough to wake my husband.

My son put his hand to my mouth to "shush me." His strong hand overpowered my next screams, as they became muffled. While I struggled to avoid being contained, with his other arm across my chest, grabbing at my hands, he grabbed my left breast. "You fucker," I slurred.

I think he took my having been inebriated as a signal to manhandle me. I tried to get up and off the recliner when he climbed on top and pinned me. Almost as if this assault was premeditated, he made the TV volume louder. He knows my husband sleeps through anything. He held my hands together with one of his hands, and the other went up under my oversized sweatshirt. The feeling of his warm, sweaty, clammy hand found my breast and then my nipple. With all my might, I tried to buck my hips to get him off me. I think that only caused him to get excited. I felt his bulge just below my tits.

I couldn't believe he had his hand under my sweater and was palming my breast. In between humping my hips to get him off me, he pinned my arms down to my side, between the arm cushions, which left both hands free.

He brought his left hand to cover my mouth while his right went behind him and between my legs. His weight on my chest was causing me to feel lightheaded, like I was going to pass out. Pushing his hand between my legs, his hand started forcefully rubbing my crotch through my yoga pants.

I kept trying to move my legs, my nylon feet slipping off the foot of the recliner. I was now becoming discouraged, for I was falling to his efforts.

Leaning forward, his nose almost touching mine, he leaned in, and his lips touched mine. Turning my head away, he whispered, "You know you want this."

Fighting him and my urges to give in, I made a last attempt to get out from under him. His lips met mine, and his tongue entered my mouth as I tried to tell him to stop. His tongue, soft and salty, plunged in, looking for mine. An electric-like pulse shocked me as his tongue met mine; it felt very strange. I tried to move my tongue away within my mouth to avoid his touching mine.

As his tongue continued to dart into my mouth, his hand slid under my yoga pants and immediately found the wet nylon crotch between my legs. His hand slid all over the silky nylon crotch, trying to find access to my pussy. I bucked my hips and screamed into his mouth. I think that only excited him further.

Adjusting himself further, re-pinning my arms, his bulge visible through the grey sweatpants he was wearing. I felt the warmth of his hand on my stomach, just below my belly button, then it disappeared, sliding under the silky nylon waistband of my pantyhose.

Struggling to avoid his tongue finding mine, I froze as his fingers wrapped around my vagina, one by one, each finger taking turns fucking me, sometimes two at a time. In a delusional state, while the finger-fucking assault was happening, I found my tongue dancing with his.

With my eyes closed, I imagined what I could to pass the time. His fingers probed and prodded; the finger-fucking assault had brought me very close to an orgasm. He broke our kiss only to lift my sweater up over my head, where his mouth immediately found a breast and a nipple. My nipples are extremely sensitive, and any stimulation gets me extremely wet and horny.

His mouth latched onto my breast like when he breastfed. I found my hips humping his fingers. With all the movement, my yoga pants had slid further down, and one leg was out. What a sight it may have been, watching a son on top of his mother, who was spread-eagle, with his mouth on her breast and sitting on her chest with a hand under her pantyhose, finger-fucking her.

I'm not going to lie--while under the influence, having my breast played with and my pussy fingered all felt amazing. I was suffering with the fact that my son had been masturbating in my worn hosiery, had recently seen me naked, I saw him soaping his long dick in the shower, the fact that my husband's golf buddies have seen me naked and have talked about fucking me, and I came using my dildo only hours earlier today, and now this!!!

This was all too much for me to handle. I tried to close my legs as his fingers brought me to a creamy orgasm, his mouth swapping between my breasts, while kissing and licking each nipple. I felt flushed, my breasts became tender, and I was in need of a fucking--a real fucking.

Looking down at his face as he was smothered in my breasts, I whispered, "Let's go to your room." Pulling his fingers out from between my legs, his hand from beneath the pantyhose I was wearing, he released his knees on my arms and sat up.

Pulling my sweatshirt down, covering up, it fell like a short dress. I took my leg out from the yoga pants, kicking them fully off, took two large gulps of wine, and followed behind my son to his bedroom, tossing the yoga pants in the hamper along the way.

In his room, I climbed onto his bed and, with bedroom eyes, asked if he was sure he wanted this to happen. Before I knew it, he had his t-shirt off, revealing his skinny, hard chest, kicked off his flip-flops, and began pulling down his sweats. Unfortunately for him, he was so hard that he needed to pull the sweats along the front to slip over his long, thick, hard dick.

He looked at me as I stared at him, naked as the day he was born, and he said that "he's never wanted for anything more than this moment in his entire life that he could ever remember."

Starting at my feet, he kissed them, licked them, sucked my nylon toes--it felt absolutely amazing. Without needing approval, I brought my other foot to his face. The one he just worshipped, I put on his face, and the other received the identical love that he gave the other. If you've never had your feet and toes worshipped, I suggest highly you try it at least once.

I felt so desired as he made love to my feet. I slid my sweater up and over my head, leaving me now fully naked except for the sheer, silky nylon pantyhose I was wearing. I started massaging my breasts, gently pinching and pulling at my nipples; it was pure bliss.

I felt the hands of my son sliding up my nylon legs, stopping on my thighs, where he pushed my legs apart. I wasn't ready for what he did next. I felt him between my thighs, putting my legs and feet over each shoulder as he brought his face between my legs. Within an instant, he had my pantyhose pulled down, and I was now fully exposed. If he ever wanted to truly smell or taste me, this was his chance. I felt his hands explore as he licked my puffy, sticky lips; they opened as if to give their consent for whatever he wished to do.

His tongue found the opening from where he came from; he poked, pushed, twisted, and twirled his tongue in and out of it. Slipping a few fingers in, he let them explore my insides until he brought his tongue to my clit.

Immediately stopping him, I pushed his face away, lifted my ass, and pulled my pantyhose up. The look on his face was as if his favorite toy had broken. I poked my fingernails through the sheer nylon alongside the crotch, making a hole and tearing them open, exposing myself fully.

A smile came across his face. He assumed position and continued tongue-fucking me. Between his saliva and my wetness, his face was covered in juices. His fingers once again found my hole, and his tongue my clit. I knew it was any minute that I would be cumming.

With his face buried between my legs, bathing in my juices, licking my clit with pinpoint accuracy, his hands explored my silky legs.

Uhhhhhh, ahhhh, f'uckkkkk, I moaned as my nylon legs clamped tight against his head. I shook, thrashed, humped his face as I came. My hands in his hair, nails in his scalp as I fucked his face. Mommy is humping your face. YESsssssss, I cried out. Yesssssss, eat Mommy's cunt, fucking eat me.

Looking up from between my legs, his face red and glazed like a doughnut, seeking my approval, I immediately blew him a kiss and said that it was "fucking wonderful." Where did you learn to eat pussy like that? I asked, which I can't believe that I just asked my son where he learned to eat pussy.

Standing up from between my legs, his cock looked like it grew another inch or so since he dropped his sweats. Bring that fucking monster here, I said. Coming closer, he kneeled on the bed with one knee, and his cock fell on the bed in front of me.

Looking and admiring it, from its long length to the large, plum-like head, to the prominent veins, and the thickness--ohhh, the thickness--left me giddy like a schoolgirl.

I touched it, and it twitched. I grabbed it, holding it in my hand, and it jumped. When I brought the head to my lips, it glistened with pre-cum. Touching the tip with my tongue, I swirled it around, and this fucking cock lifted on its own. I grabbed and held it with one hand and then my other. Its weight, length, and girth were like nothing I've ever experienced. The soft, silky flesh glided in my palms as I opened my mouth to welcome its head. I opened my mouth as much as I could, only enough to engulf the head and take a few inches of the shaft.

Call me greedy, a bitch, one way--yes, that's me. I don't want to suck his dick; I just want to have it fuck me. Yes, it's about me. Letting his cock slip from my mouth, I asked if he was ready to "make love to me" like he said he's always wanted. Truly, I wasn't looking for him to make love to me, for that's what my husband and I do. I wanted him to fuck me!

"Fuck me," I said. I want you to fuck me, yes, fuck me like the slut your father married, fuck me like I'm your pantyhose-wearing slut. Sliding myself into the middle of the bed, I spread my legs, welcoming this fuck.

I watched in awe as my son climbed onto his bed, positioning himself between my silky, hosed nylon legs. His long, thick dick kept poking at my nylon thigh. The remnants of ripped pantyhose, wet and sticky from his eating my pussy minutes ago.

With a glistening look in his eyes, unexplainable in words, he backed up and directed the plum-like head of his long, thick dick to my neglected, cock-starving pussy. The torn pantyhose crotch framed my dark, hairy bush, just exposing enough of my open pussy, like a retro porn scene. Having an IUD in and knowing my son is sexually safe, this is going to happen without a condom.

Ever so slowly, he rubbed his cock head over the lips and opening of my wet pussy, engorged from the tongue fuck he previously gave. I felt the head of his dick at the opening of my vagina. The pressure of the head pushing its way in, wanting to penetrate, was unlike anything I've ever felt.

With a "popping" sound, the head forced itself into my tight opening. This is really going to happen, I thought to myself, possibly saying it out loud.

Playing with both breasts, his fingers gently pinched and pulled at my nipples, the sensation both sensual and erotic, which certainly helped with my needed wetness. He pushed more of his long, thick dick into me, in and out, in and out.

With great rhythm, he maintained a steady pace of gently pushing in and withdrawing. With each and every push, he fed my pussy more of his long dick. I tried my hardest to maintain a persona that he couldn't break me. I didn't want him feeling he conquered his mother and that I wasn't able to resist his fucking me.

Taking his hands off my breasts, he leaned forward, resting on my chest, bringing his lips to mine. He ever so gently entered my mouth, and our tongues met. His kisses were soft, wet, and extremely sensual. As our tongues danced, I felt both hands slide under my nylon-covered ass. Instantly, I moaned, almost biting his tongue, for he fully penetrated me. It was both pleasure and pain. All I was thankful for is that I used my rubber dildo earlier that day, which certainly helped with my pussy accepting his long, thick dick.

My pussy lips moved with each of his strokes. I watched as they clung tightly to his cock, not wanting to let it go on every stroke. His strong hands kneaded my ass as he began his assault on my poor pussy.

I don't remember a time in my life that my pussy took such a battering. His fingers moved very close to my virgin asshole, touching it at times. During such times when his fingers touched and poked, it excited the ever-loving fuck out of me. I can't believe my legs are spread, taking all of his long, thick dick, hands squeezing my ass, fingers exploring a tight, virgin rosebud.

All 9 1/2 inches of his long, thick dick bottomed out in me. His rhythm met my lifting hips. I couldn't get him deep enough; my body wanted more of him, deeper and deeper, almost like an itch needing to be scratched.

With all his weight down on me, his body moving like a piston, my legs totally spread, taking all he had to give. Having no mercy on me or my pussy, even though I gave birth to him, he relentlessly plunged into me.

He must have sensed that I was about to have an orgasm, for he poked a finger into my ass as he pounded my now very wet pussy. My legs stiffened, I felt flushed, and with one last deep stroke, my hips raised to his stroke as I exploded into a wet, thrashing orgasm. Never, ever have I had an orgasm vaginally from having sex, nor have I ever squirted, for I thought for a minute that I had peed.

As soon as I caught my breath, another wave hit. Hugging him with my silky legs, locking my nylon-encased feet, I bucked my hips to meet his thrust. I started to cum again. This time, I felt his long, thick shaft swell and, with a heartbeat, unload several long, heavy spurts of his warm cum deep into me. I'm not going to belittle his fucking nor the amount of his ejaculation, for I believe I felt it deep in my womb.

Sitting up, his long, thick dick slid from my wet, cum-filled pussy, gaped open, resembling that of an open, willing mouth. His cum-covered cock slid along my silky nylon thigh, leaving slimy streaks of our fuck juices.

Laying in a puddle of sweat, cum, and sex juices, I looked at my son with wanton eyes. I couldn't believe my own flesh and blood had just made me feel that way. Watching my son get up from between my legs, I appreciated his hard, sweaty body and his wet, floppy cock as he stood up.

Jacob leaned in to kiss me. Our lips met, and his tongue found mine. This wasn't an ordinary mom/son peck on the lips; we kissed like lovers. His kiss was so intense that I reached out, taking hold of his cock, tugging on it. His hand found my wet, sore, stretched pussy, tapping my sensitive clit and inserting a few fingers.

If I didn't break our kiss, I would've leaned over, pulled him close, and sucked his cock. Go on, I said, your father will surely be up and about soon. Making eye contact, I shared with all sincerity, "You were amazing, and I'm so very proud that we raised such a fine young man and a fantastic fucking lover. You're going to make some woman very happy one day." I think I just did, he said, looking over his shoulder.

**Buzz.**

**Caller:** I'm wishing I was on my knees at your pretty feet.

**Me:** Who is this?

**Caller:** A very secret admirer...

**Me:** Well, you know who I am. I should know who you are?

**Caller:** (PICTURE) A picture of a nice-looking cock under a pair of sheer pantyhose.

**Me:** OMG! WOW, wow, very hot, I exclaimed!

**Caller:** Send me one of you.

I can't believe this. I have cum leaking from between my legs, and now I have an anonymous suitor sexting me, wanting a picture of me. What the fuck, the slut in me said! Taking my phone, I took a selfie capturing my tits to my nylon toes.

The photo was actually pretty elegant in a hard "R" sort of way: both breasts, my tummy, a tuft of black bush, a glistening blend of torn suntan nylon, silky thighs, knees, and feet, no pink, lol.

**Caller:** FUCKING Aaaaaaaa, what I wouldn't do for a chance to be with you.

Glancing at my phone, I realized the time and hopped up to take a shower, desperately needing to wash the sex off me and out of me, for it being a weekend, my husband will expect some love.

More to cum...