During the day, I watched my mother like a hawk trying to see if anything was amiss. She didn't appear to be anything but her cheerful, old self. Well... not exactly cheerful since she had a doozy of a hangover.Later that night, I jerked-off to the images of my mother having her pussy hammered by Kevin. I knew it was wrong because a son should never think of his mother in that way, but I couldn't stop the arousal I felt growing in my body. I must've shot a quarter cup of my cum that night.It was. “Oh… what? You have already taken a pair of your mother’s stockings?” I replied “yes, they were cinnamon stockings with runs and I wore them for a long time.” “So you fished those out of the trash? Michael!” Dad began shaking his head while half laughing.Dad said “I don’t care if you want to play with them. But your mother does, so that’s the problem. Just don’t steal any pantyhose from your mother. She is now wearing pantyhose.” I dared ask “can I take her pantyhose when they get a run?”. More

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