I started masturbating in my mom’s panties quite young, so I’m about the same as most of the other guys in the stories. I’m seventy now and have worn panties ever since that first hard on. I was in the junior high, and had started having my first self-erections. The first hard-on tented my jockeys in Social Studies. The room was arranged with two rows of tables facing each other. Girls all on one side, boys, facing on the other. I’m not sure to this day if the teacher was one of us, or was just plain dumb.

But what a break. A cute little blonde, Pam, sat right across from me. Every day she sat there for the full fifty minutes, her legs wide open. And of course my eyes were wide open as my gaze feasted on that pink panty crotch (gusset) and the lower part of her pantied belly. I left the class, holding my notebook in front of me to hide the tremendous bulge in my trousers.

When I got home that afternoon, I found a note from my mom in the living room. Gone shopping, be home in time for dinner. Love, mom. Wow! I dropped my books and rushed to my room where I stripped to my skin. I already knew what I wanted: panties, panties.

With my stiff prick, leading me like it was a dowser, it led me to her room and to her panty drawer. Yes, as one of your writers stated, her lingerie was in the third drawer. Her panties were all pink rayon (this was three years before nylon came out) and very plain and high waisted. I grabbed the top pair, forgetting to close the drawer and with my dick again leading, I rushed back to my room.

At first I draped the panties across my left palm with the crotch facing me and began stroking my shaft, now red and throbbing. But somehow it wasn’t enough. Idea! I pinched the panty elastic, which I now call, girl elastic, at each side, held them out and stepped in. As I pulled them up I could see the pink crotch coming at my balls. I hadn’t had my first orgasm as of yet so my dick tip was bone dry, but it felt g o o d!

Then I drew that pink rayon tricot up over my balls and finally the girl elastic snapped into place just at my belly button. My prick was so hard that it shoved its head against the elastic, pushing it out a good half inch from my waist.

Then I began to stroke, running my palm up and down over that slick, (I almost said, silky, but the tricot weave is smoother than silk) soft pink rayon. At the same time I ran my other hand over the panty, feeling how soft and tight it was against my butt, the rear crotch seam, the front crotch seam, just above my balls. I used to like the older style where the crotches were higher up on your body. Suddenly, all heaven fell on me as my shaft wanted to explode in delight, my eyes were jerked wide open and up the shaft came at least a half cup of cum.

I was still stroking, when I heard a cough behind me. Oh my God, it was my mom. My once magnificent shaft dropped into the crotch of her panties. My face turned the proverbial beet red and I stammered something completely stupid.

All my mom said, was, “Well, I can see that you’re growing up. Stop stammering like an idiot and sit on the edge of the bed.”

I sat, not know what she had in mind and too frightened to ask. I could feel that half cup of cum had wetted the entire panty belly. She seemed to pay no attention to that.

“Look, son, I was shocked for a moment, but now I’m glad. And you know why? No? I’ll tell you. It’s obvious that somehow you obtained a panty fetish. I know that there’s no cure for it. It’s yours for life, at least I think so. I’d rather have you jacking off in my panties than going out and getting some girl pregnant. Now, don’t look so shocked. It’s true. So here’s what you’re to do. Anytime you want you can wear my panties, except when going to school. In the summer you wear them around the house with only a T shirt on. In the winter you can wear your bathrobe. Now, here’s the point. I don’t want you jacking-off secretly in the bathroom or your room. And only jack-off when I’m home to see you doing it. Someday, when you’re older you’ll understand.”

I was speechless for a moment. Then I finally managed to blurt out, “Can I wear them under my clothes when I go outside to play?”

She nodded then said, “Now, go toss those soggy panties in the hamper and get a clean pair out of my drawer.”

I did just as she ordered. It seemed strange at first, walking around the house in her panties, the sheer (for then) rayon stretched from the crotch seam to the girl elastic by my glorious erection. Only about an hour had passed when I could no longer resist stroking it again. I was sitting on a kitchen chair, watching her peel potatoes when I started getting serious with my shaft.

She saw me jacking-off out of the corner of her eye. In a sudden move she dropped the potato peeler, wiped off her hands then raised her skirt and shoved her hand down into her panties. I don’t know which of us came first. Maybe it was a tie. I would like to end this story here, though it goes on for another fifty seven years. Maybe sometime when there’s space you might want to read the rest. I’ll drop a hint, I left home at twenty, and married a lovely girl who got turned on by watching men jack-off in women’s panties.