It was just before eight in the morning and as usual I was in my closet. It is a built-in closet and the inside wall adjoins my mother’s bedroom.

My mom Pam is a forty-two year-old divorcee and I am her eighteen year-old son and only child. Mom has put on a little weight since dad left and she complains about it but I think it suits her, it makes her tits bigger and she has a nice bubble-butt which is what I was staring at right then and there.

Quite some time ago I had made a hole in my closet wall so I could see into mom’s bedroom. I like watching her knowing she can’t see me. I like watching her dress.

Mom has this habit that I really love. I suppose it’s not so much a habit as a routine.

She arises around seven-thirty on weekdays to get ready for work. She works as a secretary at an accounting firm where they have a strict dress code which doesn’t really worry my mom at all because she likes to dress nice.

She gets out of bed and goes straight to her ensuite bathroom, uses the toilet, flushes, brushes her teeth and jumps in the shower wearing her shower-cap. None of this really interests me, even when I get a glimpse of her naked. By then I’m at my station inside my closet and have removed the Blu-Tack covering my spy hole. I’m naked except for I’m wearing a pair of my mother’s discarded pantyhose. She buys Hanes L’eggs nude medium support control top pantyhose in two-packs at Walmart.

I monitor her usage and as soon as she throws a pair in the trash I rescue them and add them to my collection which I keep in a canvass bag in the bottom of my closet along with a pair of her worn panties that I pilfer from the laundry basket and exchange regularly so that mom doesn’t become suspicious.

The pantyhose feel lovely on my bare legs which I keep shaved. The silky-sheer legs of the pantyhose caress my thighs and calves and the shiny-glossy gusset cossets my ass and my scrotum. There is a tiny hole in front out of which protrudes my erect penis which has the leg of another pair of mom’s pantyhose draped over it. The current pair of full-cut satin panties I have borrowed from the laundry hamper are over my head with the crotch against my nose so I can smell her cunt, my eyes looking out the leg-holes.

If my mom or anyone else ever caught me like this I would just die, but the hole in the closet wall is very well camouflaged and my bedroom door is securely locked.

Here comes the part I’ve been waiting for; the part of her ritual which drives me wild!

Mom steps into her Hanes L’eggs medium support control top pantyhose and pulls them up her legs one at a time, easing out the wrinkles and smoothing them along her long shapely legs. She pulls the control top tight around her big ass and shaven cunt, drawing the waistband up around her midriff.

I’m slowly stroking my cock enjoying the caress of the cool, sleek nylon on my sensitive flesh. I need time to enjoy myself; if I stroke too hard or too fast I will cum too soon and we can’t have that!

Next she steps into her flesh-toned Cupid light control brief panties; also purchased in two-packs at Walmart. They are her ‘work panties’ because as the packaging says: ‘they have a light control front panel that helps smooth your belly and offer more support than everyday panties, for a slimmer silhouette’. She puts on the matching bra, easing her ample breasts into the cups.

This is as far as she will go for now. She will prance and parade around her bedroom making her bed and selecting the suit and blouse she will wear to work and the high heels to match. She has quite a collection of shoes. Mom took dad to the cleaners when he left her for a younger version of her. I don’t know how dad could bear to be with anyone else except mom; she’s so beautiful and sexy.

Having selected her outer garments which she has laid on the bed with her heels neatly placed on the floor beside them she moves over to her vanity mirror to do her hair and makeup.

Mom likes to wear a lot of makeup: heavy black eyeliner and mascara, mauve eyeshadow, rouged cheeks and bright-red lipstick. My aunt Sally snarkily tells mom that she looks like Bettie Page with her shoulder-to-armpit-length jet-black hair, blue eyes, and bangs. I Googled Bettie Page and aunt Sally isn’t far from the mark.

After brushing out her long black hair and ensuring her bangs are straight she collects her high heels and sits back down at the vanity to put them on. She sits side on to do so and I have a wonderful view of her. By now my cock is throbbing and the nylon covering my glans is soaked with precum, I can barely hold back my orgasm. The stocking caresses my cock ever so delicately as I work the sheer nylon on my frenulum.

Mom bends down to buckle her shoe, her long leg sheathed in the sheer hose is extended, her full breasts strain the cups of her bra and her pretty face is beatific as she concentrates on the buckle and strap.

I shoot my load into the stocking. My semen busts through the wispy fabric and spatters on the floor of the closet and a huge gobbet of white spunk sticks to the nylon. The feel of mom’s stocking on my cock and the pungent scent of her cunt and feminine hygiene spray in my nose is indescribably pleasurable. I try to control my breathing so that she doesn’t hear me through the thin walls.

I stay at my station while mom buttons her blouse, steps into her skirt and puts on her jacket. As reaches for her watch and jewellery I hurriedly rip the pantyhose off my cock and screw them into a ball. I take the panties off my face and remove the pantyhose I am wearing. They all go into my secret canvass bag of goodies.

I pull on my pyjamas and head downstairs and am sitting in the kitchenette pouring cereal into a bowl when she comes down the stairs. A miasma of her perfume precedes her and I smile at her.

“Good morning Mike,” she returns my smile; the love for me in her eyes is evident.

“Morning mom; you look gorgeous as usual,” I complement her.

“I’m too chubby Mike and I’m getting old,” she leans in and kisses my cheek then she rubs off her lipstick with the pad of her thumb.

I’m lucky that my pyjamas are baggy because although I have only just ejaculated I am hard again. My eyes are locked my mom’s long legs and her big ass. Her tight skirt is a little too short for a woman her age but she knows how to show off her best assets.

“What the hell is that Mike?” mom pulls her head out of the refrigerator.

I can hear it now too; the sound of police sirens in the distance but they are getting closer.

It is right then that the kitchen door slams open and a huge black man with an angry look on his face bursts through it. He’s carrying a gun which he levels at us as he slams the door shut. I curse myself for failing to lock it before I went to bed last night.

“Is there anyone else in the house?” the man snarls, waving the gun at us.

We are both gape-mouthed and speechless.

The man pulls back the hammer on the pistol and levels it at mom.

“No! There’s no one else in the house!” my voice is high and whiney with fear.

The sirens are getting louder.

“Upstairs now! You lead the way sister and just remember I have my gun in your kid’s back,” he growls.

I’m pissed that he called me kid but that’s the least of my worries. The man pushes me right up close to mom who is leading the way upstairs. The man might have a gun in the small of my back but my nose is only inches from mother’s luscious ass and I’m getting tumescent again. Her perfume invades my nostrils; her shapely buttocks are swathed in a navy-blue pinstriped skirt that is probably a size too small for her. It rides up her thighs exposing the coffee-coloured shiny control-tops encasing her thighs. The sheer legs of her nude pantyhose glimmer as she strides slowly up the stairs.

“In there!” the man pushes me in the back and I fall against my mother.

I hope she can’t feel my erection as it presses against her buttocks. I hold back a step as she walks into my bedroom then follow behind her, the gun still pressed into the small of my back.

The sirens are now excruciatingly loud and they seem to have stopped in our street.

“Get in the fucking closet and keep quiet. Don’t say a fucking word!” the man points to the built-in closet where not that long ago I was masturbating while watching my mom get dressed.

Mom climbs awkwardly into the closet and I follow her, pushing my clothes out of the way. The man steps in after me, sliding my clothes all the way to one side of the enclosure. He pulls the door closed and our world becomes black; we have to stand side-on so we can all fit.

“We stay in here until the cops move on. One fucking word and I’ll shoot. The bullet will pass right through the kid and into your back sister; do you feel me?” the man grunts.

I can feel the man’s breath on the back of my neck, he’s pressed so close. I’m pressed against my mother and the proximity to her body is doing things to me that are infinitely inappropriate given the circumstances. I’m breathing in her perfume and my cock is pressed against her buttocks. It’s slowly becoming erect and as much as I try to think of dead puppies or the last horror movie I watched I can’t stop it. I can’t use my hand to move it in the confines of the closet because mom will feel it and the big black man with the revolver pressed into my back might get the wrong idea and shoot me.

My mom sighs like she’s exasperated and moves her buttocks a little; I think she has become aware of my erection. The movement doesn’t help, it makes matters worse because the wool-blend fabric of her skirt causes the fly hole in my pyjamas to open and my cock is now resting on my mother’s ass.

Suddenly there is a pounding on the front door.

“Oh my god!” my mom shrieks and jumps in fright.

“Shut up bitch!” the man growls.

Mom is whimpering but trying her hardest to keep quiet. When she jumped my cock sprang between her legs and now rests firmly between her big pantyhose-sheathed thighs. I am biting down on my lips to stop myself from groaning with pleasure.

“Police! Open up!” the hammering on the door continues.

Mom jumps again and I leave a snail’s trail of silvery pre-seminal fluid on her leg. I can feel my dick dripping. The shimmery feel of her pantyhose on my cock is driving me wild.

The hammering and shouting from downstairs stops as fast as it started and we can hear the cops move on to the house next door where they bang on the door and begin to shout.

The man keeps us in the closet as the cops move further down the street going from house to house. Mom carefully reaches between her legs and pushes my penis from between them. It springs free and nestles against her skirt once again but I hear her sigh of relief. At least it isn’t touching her flesh. I am now increasingly aware of the musty smell of stale semen. It is coming from below me, from the canvass bag in which I keep mom’s discarded nylons and stolen panties.

After what seems like an agonisingly long time the man pushes the closet door open.

“Out!” he snarls and mother and I tumble out of the closet.

She pulls down her skirt and smoothes it around her ass and thighs and I quickly tuck my penis away hoping that neither my mom nor the black have seen it.

“You, toots, get on the bed and you go sit in that chair!” she man indicates the chair next to my computer desk and I hurriedly make my way over to it and sit.

Thankfully my erection has subsided and I deliberately don’t look at my mother’s legs as she perches herself on the edge of my bed. The man moves over to the window and peeks out briefly.

“Look, I don’t wanna be here anymore than you want me to be but we’re all going to stay here and remain calm until I’m satisfied that the cops have moved on, you feel me?” the man looks sharply from my mother to me.

We both nod, praying that the angry man won’t keep us prisoner much longer.

“Hey what the fuck?” the man looks down at canvass bag that has tumbled out of the closet.

I am absolutely mortified when he untangles the ties and opens the bag to examine it. He turns it upside down and shakes it and a jumble of pantyhose and a pair of mom’s panties tumble to the floor.

“What the fuck?” the man kicks the little pile of delicates with his toe.

“Jesus, you fucking freak,” the man bends down and picks up the pair of pantyhose soaked with my semen.

He holds the hosiery in two fingers at the waistband and shakes them at me accusingly.

“You little mother-fucker! You been wankin’ into these pantyhose and sniffing these panties ain’t-cha kid?” he grins.

“These yours sister? Your son been spanking his monkey with your pantyhose?” the man waves the pantyhose at mom who blushes and looks away.

“You little fucking pervert,” the man drops the pantyhose and kicks the little pile of hosiery and panties back towards the closet where the doors are gaping.

“Wait a minute?” the man stares into the closet.

Because all of the clothes have been pushed aside the little patch of Blu-Tack is visible.

“Don’t you fuckers move!” the man waves the gun at us before he steps over to the closet.

My bedroom is tiny and the man can easily spin around and stop us should either of us make a break for the door.

He scratches away the Blu-Tack and briefly puts his eye to the hole and then he turns and smiles at me evilly.

“You been watching mommy through the peephole haven’t you kid?” his accusatory grin is almost worse than mom’s scowl.

I bow my head in shame and blush so hard that I can feel my cheeks burning.

“You know your kid been perving on you through the wall sister?” the man points to the hole in back of the closet.

Mom looks angry but says nothing.

“I can see why though; you are some piece of ass,” the man sniggers.

“You think your mother is a piece of ass kid? Sure you do. She got them big titties and those long legs and that pretty face and you been watching her through that little hole stroking your noodle with her nylons,” the man continues to embarrass and degrade me.

Of course I’m fearful for my life and for my mother’s life. The man is huge and he has a gun but I’m also mortified that my mother now knows my secret. If we ever get out of this predicament I’ll have to explain myself and that won’t be easy.

“What’s your name sister?” the man turns to mother who is sitting primly on the edge of my bed, pulling down the hem of skirt which keeps riding up.

“Pam ... Pamela,” my mother stammers, her voice barely audible.

She keeps pulling at her hem and closing the top of blouse.

“Whatcha keep adjusting your clothing for Pam. You’re dressed for work so that outfit is obviously your work clothes. You like them men at the office ogling your tits, your ass and your legs Pam? You like being a tease?” the man closes in my mother and I bristle.

“Don’t get any ideas kid, you just stay seated,” the man spins around and puts the gun on me.

He turns back to mom and grins.

“Look at me and answer my question Pam,” the man grows.

My mother stops fiddling with her clothing and raises her head and looks at the man defiantly.

“We have a dress code! And yes I like to dress nice for work! I’m a single woman I can dress how I like! I stopped taking orders off men when my husband left!” my mother spits.

I look at her beautiful face. Her blue eyes were shining with defiance, her red lips pursed, her heavy makeup emphasises her features. Her long white neck is extended and her jet-black hair falls around her face and over her shoulders. She has never looked more beautiful to me but I am afraid that the man with the gun is getting the same impression.

He stares at my mother with his deep-set dark brown eyes. They roam over her body and his breathing becomes heavier. He is wearing tight blue-jeans and a white tank-top, his muscles defined by the tight cotton. His erection bulges the front of his jeans.

Now I am really scared.

“Pick up those nylons kid,” the man points with his gun to the contents of the canvass sack spilled on the floor.

His eyes never leave my mother and her gaze never leaves his. Her hostility and belligerence are palpable.

“Pick up the fucking nylons,” the man turns and barks at me.

I scramble on the floor and pick up the nylons as I am told.

“Give them here and sit back down,” the man snatches them from my grip.

I guess what is coming next. In a movie or storybook the victim would spring from the chair and grapple with the protagonist and take away his gun but this is real life and I sit meekly and allow the man to tie my wrists to the arms of the chair and my ankles to the legs. He ties them so tight that I am worried that he might cut off the circulation.

I expect my mother to cry or plead with this monster but she steadfastly refuses. She holds her head high and looks at the man with abject hostility and insolence.

“I don’t know why the police are looking for you but I know that you have now committed a home invasion and assault. I’m going to come to the courthouse and look you in the eyes when they sentence you to prison you fuck!” my mother growls.

She shocks me. I seldom hear my mother swear; she is usually so demure. This behaviour is so out of character for her and it also concerns me. There is no doubt in my mind what this man intends to do, why else would he tie me up, but why does my mother insist on antagonising him further? It is only going to make things worse for her.

“Yeah ok Pam now you got that out of your system let’s get to fuckin’, we ain’t got long,” the man says so matter-of-factly that I nearly faint.

This man is going to force himself on my mother while I sit and watch, unable to help her.

“Take me in the other room! Take me in the other room and I won’t struggle ... I won’t fight,” my mother’s anger has dissipated and now she is begging.