"For fuck sake Mike hurry up! We've gotta get going!" my mother yelled up the stairs.
She'd been drinking again. Mom was not a lush by any standard but 'she did like a cold drink on a warm day, ' as my now deceased dad was want to say.
I finished wiping my cock with my mother's panties. I like to masturbate with my mother's and sister's panties, luxuriating in the sensation of their nylon and satin undergarments against my turgid member. I am also not averse to sniffing the crotch of said garments whilst wanking into another pair.
Neither of them said anything and I was careful to clean up my mess, but they had to have been suspicious, especially mom because sometimes I couldn't resist pulling a leg of her sheer pantyhose over my cock and shooting my load into the diaphanous nylon. I was as careful as any horny young boy could be but I must have left traces of my indiscretions in their panties and hosiery.
I wiped away the creamy mess that I had made in my mother's panties with a facecloth and buried the item deep in the laundry basket. My fingers encountered a garment that felt very sensuous and I pulled it free of the tangle of dirty washing.
It was a pair of footless tights, black but very sheer. I had noticed that a lot of women were getting around in tights or leggings as they called them, they were quite the fashion trend at the moment. As a 'leg and ass man' I was hardly likely not to notice. But these tights seemed very sheer; almost as sheer as pantyhose.
A rather large label was attached to the waistband and I read it as I pushed my cock back inside my briefs and zipped up the fly of my shorts.
'Venosan Ultima Leggings. 70% Nylon 30% Lycra© Spandex. Hand wash separately and hang in shade to dry. Do not machine wash. Do not tumble dry. It is highly recommended that foundation apparel be worn underneath this garment.'
"MMMmmm; bet these would be nice to wank off into," I said to myself.
I scraped at some of the crusty stain in the crotch of the leggings and bought the sticky coagulate to my nose; my sense of smell was immediately assaulted by the pungent aroma of cunt.
'Someone is not wearing foundation apparel under their lycra/nylon leggings, ' I smiled to myself and threw them back into the laundry basket just as my sister joined my mother's pleas to get going.
"Come on baby brother, watcha doing up there; having a wank?" she yelled.
I blushed as I opened the bathroom door but I was also smiling. If my sister only knew how close to the truth she was!
"Having a leak before we hit the road. It's three hours to Aunt Megan's place!" I replied as I rushed down the stairs.
My mother and sister were outside waiting impatiently so I slammed the door to mom's house behind me, skittered down the porch steps and sauntered over to where my sister's compact car was parked in the driveway.
A rather nice ass clad in what I presumed to be Venosan Ultima brand Leggings was protruding from the rear passenger door. The ample but well-proportioned heine belonged to my mother and it was obvious she had also not taken the manufacturers advice regarding wearing foundation apparel underneath her leggings.
The leggings shimmered in the afternoon sun, displaying mom's lovely long legs to advantage. She was reaching deep into the vehicle and her legs were slightly parted, the fabric clung to her buttocks and more alarmingly to the swell of her mons. The sheer, shimmering fabric clung to the cleft of her sex; it was almost like she was wearing nothing but opaque pantyhose, which in a way she was. Typical mom; she had dressed down for the long journey ahead but insisted on wearing her four-inch high heels.
I couldn't help but stare and my recently drained penis began to thicken. I shook my head to clear the licentious vision from my mind and walked over to the car.
"Mom? What are you doing there; let me help," I offered.
Mom eased herself out of the confines of the rear seat and turned around. As usual she was wearing full makeup, mom always wore full makeup, even if she was just heading down to the store for a few grocery items. She came from a generation of women who believed they were not properly attired if they weren't wearing makeup and heels.
She smiled and then stepped forward and gave me hug.
"Don't worry Mike. As usual, the women of the family have got us all organised," she smiled.
She was wearing a loose-fitting satin blouse with the tan leggings and when she hugged me her ample bosom was crushed between us. The scent of her perfume could not overcome the miasma of bourbon and cigarettes on her breath. Our crotches briefly rubbed and I felt quiet uncomfortable; it felt like mom wasn't wearing anything below her waist. It was vaguely erotic but very disconcerting.
My sister Michele, known as Shelly to family and friends, appeared from the driver's-side door and gave me 'that look'; implying hurry up and get in, mom's been drinking and we have a three hour drive to get through.
"Sorry Mike, but the trunk is full and the front passenger seat is taken up with the garment bags holding my bridesmaid dress and mom's best suit. I had to squeeze your suitcase onto the back seat," she smiled wickedly at me.
My sister and I had a love/hate relationship. We loved each other dearly but we never missed an opportunity to piss each other off if we could get the chance; especially when it came to inflicting mom and her eccentricities on each other.
"Jeez Shelly! When are you going to buy a decent car instead of this tree-hugging, fern-sniffing, eco-friendly, midget-mobile?" I chided her.
Shelly was a greenie. Not a hairy-legged, khaki-wearing, femmo dyke. (Far from it! She liked to dress in mini-skirts, killer heels, hosiery and makeup and tease every man in the room at any party she attended.) But she was an 'environmental activist' and insisted on driving a low emission hybrid compact.
"Well brother of mine, who currently has a piece of shit clunker that barely made it to his mother's house, because he is only sixteen and can't afford a decent car. You can either get in my midget-mobile or find your own way to Aunt Megan's wedding," she smiled sarcastically at me.
"Screw you Shelly!" I smiled sweetly at my older sister.
"As much as you would like to; I'm afraid that would be incest," she said flippantly and gave me the finger as she squeezed into the driver's seat.
"Stop it you two!" mom snapped; then she smiled.
"I bought beer!"
"Surprise, surprise!" Shelly grumbled and closed her door.
I looked into the rear of the car. One side of the bench seat was taken up with my large suitcase; a small cooler sat on the floor.
"Jesus mom! How are we both going to fit in there?" I whined.
"Easy son; I'll sit on your lap. It's only for a couple of hours and your old mom doesn't weigh that much!" she chided, sipping on a can of cold beer.
Mom was right; she didn't weigh that much. She was far from petite, but she wasn't fat. She was well proportioned for a woman in her mid forties. Mom looked after her figure and her looks, but she drank a lot more since dad had gone and she had filled out a little. She was best described as voluptuous.
"Come on you two; lets get going!" Shelly called out and revved the piss-ant little engine.
"Fuck me!" I whinged under my breadth and squeezed into the back seat.
As I buckled the seatbelt I realised how confined and secluded mom and I would be in the back seat. The suitcase on the seat beside me blocked the view out of the nearside windows and along with garment bags slung over the front passenger seat, the driver's view into the rear of the vehicle was effectively blocked. I watched as Shelly fiddled with the rear-vision mirror as she tried to adjust it to see out the back of the car.
"At least my wing mirrors are working," she said, fiddling with the side-mirror controls.
"You'll be lucky if you don't get pulled over," I sighed.
"Nah; it's only a couple of hours on back roads and the cops won't be able to see into the car anyway. Just make sure mom stays firmly in your lap. She won't have a seatbelt," Shelly ordered in her 'I'm in control; just do what I say' voice.
"Ready or not here I come," mom giggled and squeezed her lovely ass through the rear door and nestled herself in my lap.
"I remember all the times I sat you on my lap when we went for a drive with your father; it won't hurt for you to repay the favour," mom smiled and kissed me on the cheek.
She slammed the door and reached down for the cooler.
"Here; have a coke, grumpy-ass," mom giggled and handed me a cold can of Coke.
As she settled into my lap and we popped the tops of our ice-cold drinks; beer for mom and coke for me, Shelly pulled out of the driveway and journey began.
With a bit of giggling and wriggling I eventually got mom settled comfortably on my lap. We sipped our drinks and chattered on about the forthcoming wedding. Mom and Shelly had the usual snide comments about a woman remarrying in her mid-life. As mom was widow and Shelly a divorcee they held the opinion that a woman didn't need a man to complete her. As a sixteen year old male I was allowed to participate in the conversation; but because I was a male my input was subject rebuke at any time.
.... There is more of this story ...