Smelling My Moms Panties Novels & Stories

"What's that smell? Why does it smell… rotten?" Oh, that was just the smell of my decaying body, mixed with the stench of kidney failure. Abigail gagged dramatically and covered her nose. "Gosh, it stinks! Mom, did Aurora hide food again? Something must've gone bad! I told you, she's basically a trash can!" Mom's face went cold in an instant. Her fingers tightened around the strap of her designer bag. She shouted at my body, "Aurora, are you dead or what? The smell is so bad, and you didn't notice it? Get up and open a window!"

“Don’t her panties smell wonderful? They’ve been hugging her warm, mature pussy all day long.” The boy’s ass lifted off the ground as his boner flexed excitedly. His mom gently pushed his hips back down with her leg. “Down, tiger!” she giggled, then pulled Ruth’s lingerie away and dangled another set. “Mmm, look at this sexy pair. These are Aunt Morgan’s bra and panties, baby. I bet you’ve been dying to smell her pregnant pussy, haven’t you?” Amber moaned softly, pressing the crotch of her sister’s panties firmly to his nose.

~Melissa~ Morning came too fast. I dragged myself out of bed after maybe three hours of sleep, pulled on jeans and a sweater, and braced myself for whatever fresh hell waited downstairs. The smell of coffee and bacon hit me halfway down the stairs. Mom’s voice drifted from the kitchen, her voice was high pitched meaning she was excited about something. Great. I rounded the corner and stopped dead.

She remarked, her voice imbued with a forced cheerfulness, "Such a radiant day outside, isn't it, darling?" But young Alfred, despite his tender years, possessed an uncanny ability to discern beneath the surface. His perceptive blue eyes, a mirror to his father’s, scanned his mother's face. "Mama," he ventured, an undercurrent of worry lacing his words, "your eyes betray a story different from your words. They're clouded, distant, as though lost in some profound thought."

However, I became increasingly excited even as my consciousness began to fade. I was going to see Dad soon. Unfortunately, my happiness was cut short when I heard someone calling my name. The person unlocked the cage and saved me. When I could breathe again, I looked up and saw a pair of panicked eyes. "Mom," I blurted out subconsciously. I immediately regretted calling out to her. The panic in Gloria Yates' eyes was replaced by disdain when she heard me. "Don't call me that," she snapped. "You don't deserve to call me that."

Every time I opened my mouth to speak, there was a trace of hesitation, a hint of quiet insecurity. I took a deep breath, but the tightness in my chest did not ease. Then, I shoved the door open. The laughter in the living room froze. All three of them turned to look at me, their smiles stiffening instantly. My mother-in-law, Melanie Collins, had a healthy flush on her cheeks. There was not a single sign of the ‘allergy’ she always complained about. Caroline was wrapped around Keith's arm, clinging to him intimately. In her hand was the perfume I had wanted so badly last month but could not bring myself to buy.

Mom immediately came running in through the back door, beaming. She reached out and took my hand. "Come on. Let's go to the toilet together." I slowly rose to my feet and glanced at the professor, Mr. Darren Conrad. "Just stop here and wait for me to come back." The classroom erupted in chaos. "What the heck is going on? Is Shawn Larson out of his mind?" "I'd heard that he was a notorious mama's boy, and everyone knew about it. He even needs his mom to help him shower and pull his underwear on!"

"Get off me!" I roared, throwing my full weight to the right and using the momentum to slam Arnold against the wall. He let out a sharp cry of pain and immediately let go. But Mom had already latched onto my backpack. She clawed frantically at the zipper, trying to rip it open to get the cash inside. "That's mine! I earned that!" I shouted, finally losing my grip on my composure. With every ounce of strength I possessed, I yanked the backpack downward. At the same time, I drove my knee hard into Mom's abdomen.

Her eyes crinkled as she smiled, clearly satisfied. "Alright, as long as you're happy. Just remember to make an appointment next time, or there might not be any openings." Mom saw her off after exchanging a few more pleasantries. She then returned to her so-called study in the attic, which she always kept locked up. I sat at the doorway, watching as the door to the study closed once again. The pen in my hand paused over my homework as I drifted into a daze. Mom was a renowned perfumer in our small town. She'd run her shop here for nearly ten years, yet almost none of the locals come to her for business.

A well-dressed woman in the next seat overheard and leaned over. "You're Professor Lillian Doyle, right? The micro-expression expert who's always on TV? I've heard so much about you!" Her eyes lit up. "Your analysis is amazing. Nothing gets past you." "Thank you." Mom smiled modestly and lifted her chin. Floating above them, I gave a silent, bitter smile. Mom... This time, you were dead wrong. I suddenly remembered being little, before Mom became world-famous. Back then, her eyes held nothing but love for me.