It would have been so easy to lift her dress and run a hand up her silk stockings.
Unknown to her I took a couple of quick snaps of her sexy ass and stocking seams as she left the house.
Immediately I ran upstairs to begin editing the photos on my PC in PhotoShop.
Several were good enough to print so I sent them to my A3 photo printer.
Soon I was lying across her bed, jerking off at the large full colour photos of her while sniffing the panties and tan work stockings she had left on the floor.
Then I transferred the photos of her to my smartphone so I could jerk off at them during college breaks.
They must have had a powerful effect on me as I began to lose all interest in girls of my own age. I even gave my slightly soiled collection of men’s magazines to a dorky guy at college.
One afternoon, confident I was alone, breathing in the scent from a pair of her silk stockings, she came quietly into her bedroom behind me.
Dressed in her plain work clothes she looked very ordinary.
I guess she must have watched me for some time until eventually I groaned and writhed with pleasure, ejaculating hard into a handkerchief in my trousers.
When she cleared her throat I could have died with embarrassment.
But she just stood there watching me. Not looking at my erection, nor her lingerie, but intently at my face.
I said nothing, feeling only shame.
“Just for a moment I thought it was your Dad,” she said wistfully, while running her long fingers through my curly black hair.
“You’re so much like him Jack. Same slim body. Same beautiful face an same hairy skin.”
“Jeez, I’m sorry Mum, I didn’t mean to…”
“How long have you been getting off on my underwear love?” she asked softly.
Then I blurted it all out, the whole sordid story of my fixation with her makeup, perfume and lingerie.
Remarkably she said nothing, just nodding as she listened.
She was so patient, so understanding.
At one point she sat down on her bed and, holding my hand, indicated me to sit beside her.
It felt surreal to be talking of her erotic lingerie and me getting erections and ejaculating at the slightest thought of her wearing those stockings and suspenders.
In another way it was a great relief that at last she knew how I felt about my bedroom obsession with her.
When I had finished my story she leant forward, kissing me gently on the cheek.
She explained that she understood how I felt and reassured me it was quite natural for a boy to feel like that about his Mum, and it would be alright if I continued to use her lingerie.
She added that Dad used to love sniffing her pants from the linen basket and she understood the power female pheromones held over some men.
Then further shocked me by saying she didn’t mind me masturbating with her lingerie as long as I washed my hands first and didn’t actually come on them or the bed!
Then, still gently holding my hand, she lightened the moment by saying at least now she knew what to buy me for my next birthday present!
Almost as an afterthought she asked if I had told anyone about my lingerie secrets and how I felt about her.