It was probably among the strangest things that many of us have experienced. Everything seemed fine and normal all throughout the beginning of 2020. The first couple months, at least. Then March came around, and April, and into May, and it seemed like the whole world had gone silent. Everything changed. A pandemic. Lockdowns. A seemingly brain-dead election. For most of us, trapped within the walls of the place we call home, it gave us time to think. It gave us time to experience an everlasting boredom known only to the people of the free world; and with that boredom, the raging hormones of socially and sexually deprived people. And as the old saying goes: Idle hands are the devil’s playthings.

While some turned to the depraved deeds of pornography, and others to the romantic narration of erotic literature, there were a few that so furiously drowned in waves of testosterone or swam in rivers of estrogen that even the flesh tied to the blood of their ancestors was enough to trigger a merciless impulse, and fuel the cardinal sins.

What you’re about to read contains uncensored scenes of obscene lewdness, needless debauchery, and tainted pleasure. Reader discretion is advised.

I remember it like yesterday, one solemn afternoon a week or two before the lockdowns began. It was raining, I think. Well, maybe I don’t remember it like yesterday. All I can say for sure is that I was fresh out of high school, graduated and all. My mom, Sarah is her name, had just got home from work and went into the shower to refresh herself for the evening. It was among her many rituals and patterns that I had grown up with.

We lived in a small, two-bedroom, and one-bathroom house. Ever since my dad left when I was only five years old, my mother struggled on as any good parent would, sacrificing many aspects of her social life to ensure that I received everything I needed. I always respected her for that, and I made sure I would find a job after high school to help pay the bills.

Unfortunately, that hadn’t happened yet.

She had asked me to put a load of darks in the washer while she was in the shower, and I obliged shortly after she got in. The hamper had been placed in the hallway, filled to the brim even with the clothes she wore to work earlier that day. I carried it to the utility room where the washer and dryer was stored, and began to load up the washer with the clothes. Her outfit of the day went in first: A blouse, tank top, socks, pants, and then… panties. Black, lacy panties.

I paused as I held them in my hand, my boyish, teenage brain swimming lavishly in an orgy of thoughts that clouded my mind and weighted my heart. They’re still warm, I thought. Warm and welcoming. That was the first time I imagined her in nothing but those panties. No shirt, no pants, not even a bra. I imagined her just standing there, allowing me to gaze upon her nearly nude body, as slim fingers pressed between the lace and ivory flesh, slowly exposing more and more so that I might catch a glimpse of the vessel that delivered me into the world, but now delivered nothing but temptation.

My mother was on the taller side when it came to women, with long, light brown hair that she usually straightened every morning. Her eyes were a pale blue, much like the sky before the onset of a rainstorm. While she certainly wasn’t skinny, her motherly body held wide hips and prominent breasts that spoke of unnaturally diligent fertility.

I brought those panties up to my mouth, and while every nerve in my body wished to taste the lacy fabric, I resisted the urge. Instead, I simply smelled them. Absorbing deep the sweet scent of her womanly passage.

That was the first time I wanted to fuck my mother.

I couldn’t hold it back anymore; the demons within me, those millions of little monsters needed an escape after all that I had thought and felt within those few minutes, and I would indulge in the fantasies of my mind. It was then that I unzipped my shorts, and exposed the throbbing mass that was on the verge of exploding from the delicate touch of those lacy panties. I wrapped the ass of those panties around the length of my shaft, those soft fabrics tickling every little nerve in my flesh.

I stroked myself gently, allowing the pleasures of her panties to build ever so slightly. I imagined her down on all fours, willingly giving herself up to my cock. I slid into her, her gasps filling my ears and edging me closer to the point of no return.

But then I paused. If I was going to cum in her panties, I wanted my sperm to drench the fabrics that had touched her pussy. I repositioned the lacy panties so that the tip of my cock would explode into the cotton that once housed her delicious orifice, and again wrapped the rest of it around the length of my shaft. This time I imagined her spread eagle on her bed, ready to receive the cum I desperately wanted to give her. It only took three, or maybe four strokes before I tipped myself over the edge. Once it began, I could help but lose my balance, having to hold on to the washer as I unleashed my everything into my mom’s black panties. I threw my head back, letting out a loud grunt as I exhausted myself, my mind spinning with the pleasure unleashed by such luscious sin.

Just as I finished drenching her panties in warm cum, I heard the clang of pipes, and the flow of water rushing through them ceased. My heart dropped, and reality set in, as I quickly stuffed those soaked panties into my pocket and pulled my cock back into my shorts.