Moving back in with Mom (true)
After my divorce I lived alone for the next 11 years. It was absolute heaven to dress whenever I wanted at home and be able to store my lingerie in my drawers. I definitely made the most of it, doubling my panty collection from around 100 to 200 panties. A routine part of my life was to search the newspaper for lingerie sales at a couple of my favorite stores.
In 1995 I moved back in with Mom. From the very start I had one goal in mind and that was to dress in lingerie openly. I knew I would get to this point, the only question was how fast to go. While I wanted to dress openly as soon as possible going slowly had its distinct advantages, too.
If I took my time I could orchestrate every step carefully, nudge things along and do things ‘right.’ I could also savor the experience. Once I got to the point of wearing women’s underwear openly the cat was out of the bag. How could I drag things out and milk the experience for all I could?
Of course, the ideal goal was to involve Mom at every step and hopefully get a response from her as unlikely as this was. I would leave clues, such as leaving panties in my drawers or on the floor or in bed for her to find.
Sometimes she would pretend like she didn’t see them and leave everything in place. Other times she would make the bed and be somewhat forced to make a choice. Sometimes she would leave panties where they were. Other times she would fold them and put them in my drawer, her drawer, or on even on the bed. I loved this because it meant she took the time to fondle and fold them, which always excited me.
We played this silent game for months with increasing frequency. I lived for the moments Mom touched or folded my panties. The first thing I did when I got home was to walk into the bedroom and see if she made the bed, meaning she had to have encountered my panties that I left for her to find. When I saw the bed made I would get excited and try to find what she did with them.
Sometimes I would find them folded neatly and placed in my drawer. Sometimes Mom would leave them as they were in bed. A few times I got a bit of a start when I couldn’t find them in my drawer and flew into a panic. Usually my panties turned up in Mom’s drawer, which I found rather cute. Once or twice I found them hidden in the closet or under the seat cushion in the wicker chair she had in her bedroom.
Once or twice she put my Henson 38-D beige padded bra in the garbage! While I feared she might one day throw out something of mine I kept close tabs on my things. There were a few times I had to look all over the apartment and loved doing so in front of Mom. She’d ask what I was looking for and I would always say I was missing some ‘clothing’ and had she seen it. I would lead her on as long as I could before mentioning what I was looking for. Mom would claim she hadn’t seen it and it would always turn up somewhere. While she seemed to accept my fetish for panties and slips I get the feeling she didn’t particularly care for me wearing bras- or brassieres as Mom called them.
I always wore panties underneath at home and at work as well and made a point to leave a pair of two around my bedroom for Mom to find while I was out. I wore panties and a slip or satin pj bottoms to bed and would often masturbate. On the mornings I made it thru the night without cumming I woke up especially horny- and rather devious.
I began wearing my black Vanity Fair pants liner to breakfast. They had lace at the bottom of the legs so I tried to sneak quickly in and out of my seat across from Mom in the morning. Nothing was ever said but it was quite exciting sitting across from her in silky nylon panties and pants liners.
After a couple weeks of that routine I began wearing my white Vanity Fair pants liners which were rather glossy. It took several attempts before I had the nerve to walk out in the morning wearing them for morning coffee. Again, Mom said nothing. I followed this routine before stepping it up a notch.
Finally, I began wearing my champagne poly satin pj bottoms I had pilfered years before. As I sat on the couch across from Mom she actually made a point to notice and ask what I was wearing. She was curious about the material and even put her hand on my knee. I replied that I was wearing ‘my pajamas’ but didn’t have any idea how to continue talking about my choice of clothing.
Deep down I hoped each incident might spark that much needed conversation I always hoped for. Somehow over the years I had built The Talk up to be the answer to all my dreams and questions. I guess because it was an impossible fantasy I could make it as perfect as I wanted. With each and every ‘step’ in my plan I prayed for Mom to dig deep and have a good talk with me about my fetish. I needed to talk to someone about it. The most likely spark would be the first time I wore something new, such as the black pants liners, then the white and finally the satin pj bottoms. After walking out in for several days with no response I knew that step ‘failed’ to bring about the desired result and could move onto the next one.
The next biggest step was wearing a camisole with my panties and satin pjs. I thought for sure Mom would say something about this. Looking back, I can’t recall her saying anything about it so if she did it wasn’t much. Finally, I worked my way up to wearing a full slip to breakfast. It wasn’t easy and was the boldest step but if Mom wasn’t saying anything about me by now I doubted she would open up about me wearing a full slip.
Often I would get so worked up in the morning that I would masturbate into my silky panties. At this point I would ‘come to my senses,’ shower and start me day without incident. After cumming I would be far too embarrassed to walk out in front of Mom in lingerie.
Many other times I would lie in bed and touch myself for hours before getting up. I would get on the peek of an orgasm and freeze in my tracks. My fantasies revolved around walking out in lingerie and how bold and exciting it was to see myself turning the corner into the kitchen and have Mom look up at me in lingerie. The more I worked myself up the bolder I felt. Even still, I would often get up, walk down the hallway and peer around the corner to locate where Mom was sitting, too afraid to walk out like I was. I’d go back to bed and work myself for another attempt. By the time I finally did walk out I was hard in my panties and too aroused to care about my shame and humiliation.
Even though Mom rarely said anything I found walking out each morning in lingerie a very arousing experience. Each time felt like the first and I often had to make several attempts before I would finally walked out in front of Mom dressed as I was. It was the highlight of my day and the spark that fueled many masturbation sessions in Mom’s back bedroom.
In 1995 I moved back in with Mom. From the very start I had one goal in mind and that was to dress in lingerie openly. I knew I would get to this point, the only question was how fast to go. While I wanted to dress openly as soon as possible going slowly had its distinct advantages, too.
If I took my time I could orchestrate every step carefully, nudge things along and do things ‘right.’ I could also savor the experience. Once I got to the point of wearing women’s underwear openly the cat was out of the bag. How could I drag things out and milk the experience for all I could?
Of course, the ideal goal was to involve Mom at every step and hopefully get a response from her as unlikely as this was. I would leave clues, such as leaving panties in my drawers or on the floor or in bed for her to find.
Sometimes she would pretend like she didn’t see them and leave everything in place. Other times she would make the bed and be somewhat forced to make a choice. Sometimes she would leave panties where they were. Other times she would fold them and put them in my drawer, her drawer, or on even on the bed. I loved this because it meant she took the time to fondle and fold them, which always excited me.
We played this silent game for months with increasing frequency. I lived for the moments Mom touched or folded my panties. The first thing I did when I got home was to walk into the bedroom and see if she made the bed, meaning she had to have encountered my panties that I left for her to find. When I saw the bed made I would get excited and try to find what she did with them.
Sometimes I would find them folded neatly and placed in my drawer. Sometimes Mom would leave them as they were in bed. A few times I got a bit of a start when I couldn’t find them in my drawer and flew into a panic. Usually my panties turned up in Mom’s drawer, which I found rather cute. Once or twice I found them hidden in the closet or under the seat cushion in the wicker chair she had in her bedroom.
Once or twice she put my Henson 38-D beige padded bra in the garbage! While I feared she might one day throw out something of mine I kept close tabs on my things. There were a few times I had to look all over the apartment and loved doing so in front of Mom. She’d ask what I was looking for and I would always say I was missing some ‘clothing’ and had she seen it. I would lead her on as long as I could before mentioning what I was looking for. Mom would claim she hadn’t seen it and it would always turn up somewhere. While she seemed to accept my fetish for panties and slips I get the feeling she didn’t particularly care for me wearing bras- or brassieres as Mom called them.
I always wore panties underneath at home and at work as well and made a point to leave a pair of two around my bedroom for Mom to find while I was out. I wore panties and a slip or satin pj bottoms to bed and would often masturbate. On the mornings I made it thru the night without cumming I woke up especially horny- and rather devious.
I began wearing my black Vanity Fair pants liner to breakfast. They had lace at the bottom of the legs so I tried to sneak quickly in and out of my seat across from Mom in the morning. Nothing was ever said but it was quite exciting sitting across from her in silky nylon panties and pants liners.
After a couple weeks of that routine I began wearing my white Vanity Fair pants liners which were rather glossy. It took several attempts before I had the nerve to walk out in the morning wearing them for morning coffee. Again, Mom said nothing. I followed this routine before stepping it up a notch.
Finally, I began wearing my champagne poly satin pj bottoms I had pilfered years before. As I sat on the couch across from Mom she actually made a point to notice and ask what I was wearing. She was curious about the material and even put her hand on my knee. I replied that I was wearing ‘my pajamas’ but didn’t have any idea how to continue talking about my choice of clothing.
Deep down I hoped each incident might spark that much needed conversation I always hoped for. Somehow over the years I had built The Talk up to be the answer to all my dreams and questions. I guess because it was an impossible fantasy I could make it as perfect as I wanted. With each and every ‘step’ in my plan I prayed for Mom to dig deep and have a good talk with me about my fetish. I needed to talk to someone about it. The most likely spark would be the first time I wore something new, such as the black pants liners, then the white and finally the satin pj bottoms. After walking out in for several days with no response I knew that step ‘failed’ to bring about the desired result and could move onto the next one.
The next biggest step was wearing a camisole with my panties and satin pjs. I thought for sure Mom would say something about this. Looking back, I can’t recall her saying anything about it so if she did it wasn’t much. Finally, I worked my way up to wearing a full slip to breakfast. It wasn’t easy and was the boldest step but if Mom wasn’t saying anything about me by now I doubted she would open up about me wearing a full slip.
Often I would get so worked up in the morning that I would masturbate into my silky panties. At this point I would ‘come to my senses,’ shower and start me day without incident. After cumming I would be far too embarrassed to walk out in front of Mom in lingerie.
Many other times I would lie in bed and touch myself for hours before getting up. I would get on the peek of an orgasm and freeze in my tracks. My fantasies revolved around walking out in lingerie and how bold and exciting it was to see myself turning the corner into the kitchen and have Mom look up at me in lingerie. The more I worked myself up the bolder I felt. Even still, I would often get up, walk down the hallway and peer around the corner to locate where Mom was sitting, too afraid to walk out like I was. I’d go back to bed and work myself for another attempt. By the time I finally did walk out I was hard in my panties and too aroused to care about my shame and humiliation.
Even though Mom rarely said anything I found walking out each morning in lingerie a very arousing experience. Each time felt like the first and I often had to make several attempts before I would finally walked out in front of Mom dressed as I was. It was the highlight of my day and the spark that fueled many masturbation sessions in Mom’s back bedroom.
1年前
