“Tom,” she began. “I’m going to have to ask you to run back to the store, honey.” Without thinking, Amanda stood, hiking her skirt up and hooking her thumbs in the waistband of the hose. She turned her back to her son as she wriggled them down her thighs to kick them off her foot.
Tom got a good long look at the black cotton briefs that were wrapped tightly around his mother’s pert buttocks, cradling those tight little spheres, before he realized he should be looking away. Blushing hotly, he looked straight down at the carpet, where her scarlet toenails dug deep into the thick pile. He was suddenly very aware that his morning wood hadn’t really gone anywhere, and jammed his hand in the pocket of his shorts to grab the shaft and keep it under control.
“Throw these away before you go, will you?” She said, holding them out. “Hang on. I’ll get the pack-” Tom took the wad of black nylon while his mother scooped the discarded package they’d come in off the floor. “Put ’em in here and just chuck it-” Amanda looked inside the pack, then looked again.
“What the hell?” She said, wondering. Tom watched as she pulled another wad of nylon from the depths of the packaging; they were a smoky grey, this time. Amanda tossed the package on the bed, and unrolled them. A smile spread over her features as she slid a hand inside, feeling the fabric. “I guess they were tucked away in the corner.”
“I…guess?” Tom said, not sure it was the right time to tell her how he’d gotten them in the first place. His fingers absently worked the discarded pantyhose in his fist.
Amanda thought for a moment. “Okay, I can work with this.” She shrugged her suit jacket off and began to quickly unbutton her blouse. Suddenly remembering her son was in the room, she addressed him. “You can go. I’m getting dressed.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Tom said, backing up a step. “Obviously. I’m not hanging around for that. Pfft. Did you still want me to, uh-” he held up the old pair.
“Chuck ’em,” his mom said with a dismissive shake of her head. She opened her closet and pulled out a red skirt.
‘Yup, sure.” Tom stuffed the pantyhose into his other pocket and backed away. He shut the door behind him. In his shorts, his hand hadn’t let go of his cock; the whole time he’d been in her room, it hadn’t flagged an inch. Feeling the head rubbing gently against his thigh, Tom made a snap decision and ducked into his own bedroom.
Before the knob had even clicked, he was lying on his own bed, one hand inside his shorts, furiously working his swollen member. Tom grunted, and lifted his ass off the mattress, wriggling the gym shorts down his legs to his knees, kicking them off. As he did, Amanda’s pantyhose fell out onto his stomach, landing between his rigid pectoral muscles. Tom stared at the empty, reinforced toe of them as they unrolled, one long black leg unfurling across his stomach and onto the bed.
He froze. The toe lay just at the apex of his sternum. If he craned his head down, he’d be able to kiss the-
Tom shook his head. What was he thinking? The image of his mother’s red toenails, all wrapped up in nylon flashed across his vision. Tom blinked, then wriggled a little, trying to get the pantyhose to fall off all on its own. The nylon was warm. Up close like this, Tom realized that he could *almost* see a pattern in them, like snakeskin almost. He shuffled a little, and the nylon glimmered in the sunlight pouring in through his window. He stared a moment, watching the light dance, eyes trying to trace the pattern as it snaked away from his vision. Meanwhile, the pantyhose refused to dislodge.