A black lace thong and matching bra hung off a towel rack in the bathroom. I stared. They were the antithesis of my vision of my mother. On the outside, no care for her looks; inside, high-quality panties and bras.
I touched the garments, picturing her wearing just them. I'd never thought about that; it just wasn't her. I wondered what else I didn't know about her.
As I stepped in front of the sink, I saw my mother's cosmetic bag. A medium-sized, pink, suction-cup dildo lay in there, half-hidden by another expensive thong. I touched it; it was still wet from being washed. My mother does have s****l thoughts, and now I had them about her.
I showered with an erection. I didn't masturbate, aware that my mother was in the next room and remembering being teased by her once about taking a "'l
