He with your wife panties

"Oh, er, Dad... I thought you were at work," Keenan turned guiltily to me, quivering, semi-hard black dick thick and veiny in his left hand, his mom's used panties straight from the laundry basket in his right, held up to be sniffed, "I... I don't know what to say."

"Don't worry son," I said, taking from my big black son the sexy lacy boyshorts that I had once bought for Lou, my wife, one Valentine's Day, "I remember being eighteen. We all get urges that are hard to resist. These sure are some sexy panties, right?"

"It's not that, Dad," my adopted black son went on, his dick no longer in his hand, but still intimidatingly huge and dark, closer up than I'd seen it before, "It's not just these panties. It's the fact that they belong to Mom. Now I'm all grown up and started noticing all these older white MILFs and the way that they act around my toned black body I've started thinking differently about her. I know she's kind of my mom, but not really, not biologically. And she's also just this knock-out older white babe with this real sexy lingerie. I just can't stop thinking about her this way."

I was shocked to hear such a confession from my son, but my mind was going a mile a minute with images and ideas. I suppose in some ways it shouldn't be too much of a surprise to discover that a testosterone filled ultra-masculine black teenager living under the same roof as a still hot forty-something blonde MILF who still liked to dress pretty sexy and wasn't, after all, a blood relative of his, would be having feelings and desires like this. The real question, once I'd accepted how natural my adopted son's fantasies were, was how to act next.

"Look, son, I can keep this quiet from your mother, she never needs to know," I reassured Keenan, "But maybe there's something else that we can do to help you with these feelings you're having."

"Like what?" he said, his big black dick now soft and dangling half way down his thigh.

"Just wait in the living room for me and I'll show you."

He left and I went into the bedroom, my wife's lace panties still in my hand. I was taking a big risk here, but my adopted black son's confession of his sort of incestuous fantasies about his mom had given me an idea and the confidence to try it.