close and my view was so clear, I could see the lacy edges and the
stitching. As well, I could see her auburn pubic curls through the near-
transparent material. No panty gusset here.
Squiggling, she groaned in obvious anticipation, “Billy, you’re
saving this day from being a total bust. Thanks.”
Bending to my task, I started a slow rubbing, more a caress really,
that ran the length of the sole of her foot. Initially, softly with a slow build
up and then slowly kneading deeper, causing her toes to curl.
Accompanied by appreciative groans, I attempted to establish a level of
pleasure that might allow me to go farther.
With my head down, looking up through my eye lashes, I was
trying to drink in the vision of her exposed private place. I knew it was
risky, but at that moment, I was out of my head. I’d suddenly become a
sexually-aware and turned-on young man and the erotic thrill of that sight
had a much greater pull than the fear of getting caught.
I scooted closer and slipped under her legs, placing one stockinged
foot on my chest as I ran my hands over her calf from knee to ankle, still
staring at the darker shadow of her pussy seen inside the taut and stretched
crotch of her panties. With one thigh pulled aside, her tendon stood out,
tenting the leg of her panties a bit and exposing a rich forest of pubic curls
peeking from under the edge.
At that moment, perhaps alerted by my prolonged silence, she
suddenly looked up and saw where my eyes were looking. I expected an
explosion. Since I’d been caught red-handed, I made no attempt to look
away. Instead, I just continued to massage her calf as I looked into her
eyes. In the periphery of my vision, I could see her dress almost in her lap.
Jesus, what a moment! What was going to happen?
My mother pulled back a little and said, “There’s a problem here,
Billy.”
“Oh, shit,” I thought. “Here it comes!”
“Let me remove my hose. You can’t give me a proper massage
while I’m wearing them.”
She didn’t wait for a discussion. Instead she suddenly got up and
went into the nearby hall powder room, returning minutes later with her
hose bunched in her hand. She tossed them on the couch and sat again. I
noted that the garter belt was with the hose as it fell out in plain view. I
suppose that she didn’t give it a thought. In contrast, I was acutely aware
of her intimate undergarments lying there. My mind was whirling. Why
hadn’t she protested when she caught me so flagrantly looking under her
dress? Was she collecting her thoughts that she might upbraid me the
better?
Instead, she just smiled and said, “There! I feel better. Back to the
massage, if you please . . . and quit looking under my dress!” Her warm
smile took away any sting her words might have had.
She sat directly opposite me and demurely placed her foot back in
my lap, offering me no more than her knees and lower thighs to see. I
worked for another 30 minutes, kneading and massaging, and while I was
able to get fleeting glimpses of her thighs, I was not again able to see again
what I so desired, a close-up and unobstructed view of the crotch of her
panties.
—————————————————
From that day on, I remained aware that my mother was a very
attractive and sexy woman. And, as a consequence of that awareness, I
became increasingly familiar with all her clothes, both from the perspective
of what was stylish as well as what was revealing. I became intimately
aware of her various undergarments, not that I had many opportunities to
see her in them, but more that I couldn’t resist snooping in her lingerie
drawers.
Mother was a striking woman, tall – about 5′ 10″ – mostly legs it
…End of the part3. To be continued..
