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A Rainy Day Alone...

Mom and Her Drawers

It was kind of a dull rainy Saturday and Mom announced that she would be going out to do some shopping for the afternoon.  She asked if I would like to accompany her, but up to that point I found her shopping quite boring - and besides, I had other things in mind.  But first some background.  I was then about 10 years old and by some crazy fluke had recently discovered an unexplainable fascination with my mother's lingerie and, of all things - her shoes.  Mom was in her late 20s and although not beautiful, was a very pretty brunette with a nice figure and a kindly manner.  And she was smart too.  I often got the sense that she knew more about things than she was letting on with me.  I can't remember where my dad was that day.  Perhaps he was working.  He always seemed to be working odd shifts at a steel mill in our city.  Anyway, my Mom kissed me goodbye and said she'd be back around suppertime, and told me not to get into any trouble.  She was always telling me this.  I watched her get in the car and waved to her as she drove away.  I was already smiling as I thought about the afternoon ahead.  I walked into her bedroom and felt that same strange sense of mystery come over me.  It was as if this was a special place, because of some unexplained mystery that resided here.  I don't know, but I always felt a tingle when I went into her bedroom.  Her soft ever-present floral perfume was in the air, mixed with a faint powdery fragrance.  The combination of those two smells came to be "my Mom" for me.  I gingerly approached her dresser, trying unconsciously not to make any noise, even though there was no need for silence this afternoon.  I knew from previous visits that top right drawer was for her panties, the left one for her brassieres and stockings, and the deep wide middle one held her slips, girdles and pajamas.  I opened the panty drawer and looked for a moment, feeling such a sense of wonder and excitement.  Her panties were a mixture of white and pastels, and all were silky, cold and slippery to touch.  I had always been partial to white, and today was no different.  I delicately lifted the top pair from the neatly folded pile, opened them up and held them there before me.  My face felt flushed and hot, and there was a stirring in my middle.  This was where my hesitation usually spoke up.  I knew that for some unknown reason, what I was doing or was about to do was probably wrong.  I knew I had no business in her room.  Mom would certainly be mad at me if she caught me in here going through her drawers. But she did say she was going to be away for the whole afternoon.  And what could be so wrong about looking through your Mom's dresser drawers for a while?  A quiet voice from deep inside me - one that I don't think I even heard, was leading my actions.  "I'll do it," I whispered to myself.  I laid the panties down, unbuckled my cowboy-style belt, and climbed out of my trousers.  I tossed them carelessly on the foot of Mom's bed, and then stepped out of my under shorts.  It felt strange to be this naked, and it was almost as if I could feel the air moving around the room on my exposed skin.  The socks and tee shirt were the next to go and they joined the pile on the bed.  No time for neatness.  I took Mom's panties, and brought them to my face.  It felt so nice to hold them against my cheek, and to inhale her scent and feel the cool touch of her panties.  It felt like my heart was beating in my throat by this time, and my middle seemed like a furnace.  I almost felt dizzy.  I sought the label, trying to figure out front from back, found it and slipped one leg, then the other through.  I slowly pulled the panties all the way up until they cupped me and covered my middle.  "Oh Mom" I thought, "they feel so good." I felt jealous for a moment standing there, thinking that women could routinely wear such beautiful things as these.  It didn't seem fair.  The feel of the fabric brushing against me was so exciting and pleasureful.  But I had a feeling that there was something more at work here than just feel.  I opened the left drawer and fumbled through her nylon stockings.  I settled upon a newish-looking pair that had the word "taupe" faintly stenciled across the bottom.  I had seen Mom put on her stockings many times before, and knew what I should do, but I was so unpracticed and nervous that I found myself almost struggling with them.  It took some squirming and some twisting but I finally managed to get them on.  I was so intent upon the struggle of putting them on that I was only now gathering in the sensations of these stockings on my legs and feet.  The pleasure of the delicate sense of containment, and the coolness was hard to figure.  And although I was puzzled at all of this, I knew with out any doubt that I liked it a lot.  A whole lot.  I looked at myself in the dresser mirror, and strangely, it wasn't me who was looking back.  It was almost like this was someone else in the glass.  I wanted more of the sensation of these clothes so I walked a little bit within the limited space of the bedroom.  It was then that I remembered the closet - and her shoes.  I opened the closet door and lingered there for a moment deliberately inhaling the smell of her, I suppose given off from the high heels and the clothes that were hanging there.  I remember puzzling there for a moment over the word "pumps".  I didn't understand this word, but Mom seemed to use it interchangeably with "high heels".   Anyway, I put this uncertainty aside and once again took in the fragrance of her closet - more of her.  This was so exciting but I was thinking that there is something missing. Something more.  What is it?  My gaze eventually fell upon a particular pair of her high heels sitting on the hardwood floor beneath the umbrella of her dresses.  The navy blue shoes had several thin leather straps across the top - almost like a sandal, and a small tapered opening where the toes would be.  The heel was open but there was a strap that went around the back of the heel and then around the ankle.  It had a dainty buckle.  I bent over and picked them up - handling them as if they were in some way holy.  I backed up a couple of steps and sat on the edge of her bed.  Lifting my leg up, I slipped my foot into her right shoe.  It fit so snug and perfect.  I struggled with the tiny buckle behind my heel, and after tightening it was finally able to fasten it.  It was a tiny replica of my own belt buckle but I was unaccustomed to the dainty size and the awkwardness of it being on the side of my ankle.  With much the same difficulty I finally managed to get the left one fastened as well.  Afterwards I sat there looking at myself, taking into view the stockings, the high heels, the panties, and feeling the powerful flood of new sensations.  I sat there for more than a few moments trying to figure all of this out.  No answers came.  Finally I put my hands behind me, pushed against the bed and managed to get myself to a standing position.  I closed the closet door and looked at myself in the full-length mirror.  I saw nothing above the waist of the person in the glass.  I ventured a few unsteady steps and liked it immediately in the high heels.  I felt like a different person.  Reaching the dresser, I tucked my thumbs into the waistband and pulled the panties up more snugly on me.  I felt faint.  I felt alive.  I felt very excited.  My nyloned thighs rubbed when I moved.  The panties rustled against me.  And the shoes held my feet captive to their magic.  Time seemed to stop for me.  I felt so disconnected that I almost didn't hear the car.    Suddenly reality snapped back.  I dashed clumsily to the living room, opened the sheer curtain and to my horror saw mom's car slowly coming to a stop in the driveway.  Dropping the curtain I ran back into her bedroom.  My head was spinning.  I felt panic in my throat and my heart felt like it would explode.  What would I do?  Escape was out of the question.  For want of some better plan, I slipped into the closet and closed the door.  All the sounds were muffled in the darkness there, and the perfume of her personal odors was heavy.  Heady.  I was amazed that I could be thinking these thoughts just seconds away from being caught by my mother.  I heard the front door open and she called out   "Hi Honey.  I was caught in a downpour and got soaked.  I have to change and pick up the umbrella." I heard her kick off her shoes and followed the sounds of her footsteps.  "Jimmie.  Where are you Honey?" How could I answer her?  Maybe if I kept silent she would think I went out to play.  I knew she was looking for me through the house.  She was just outside the bedroom when she called out my name again.  By this time, the full sense of my disaster was upon me and I was afraid and ashamed.  Tears welled up in my eyes and I began to quietly cry to myself.

 

tio9000 tio9000 61-65, M 5 Responses Nov 12, 2009

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Yes, I understand your emotions and desires. They have haunted me since I was 8 yrs old.

Awe Sis... What a horrible place to end it. Please tell us what happened.

Wonderful story!)))

Wonderful story and well written. Please continue!

Terrific story, told beautifully and with a lot of emotion. You had me feeling like I was there, in the closet scared and crying. Please continue. I'd love to hear about what happened.