Mother’s Love for her Son, Ch. 02


Chapter 02

Showtime! James flashes his leering mother his erect cock.

Every night it’s the same sexual show. Even after having seen his cock so many nights before, looking forward to seeing his cock again, every night he holds my attention as if seeing his sexy show for the first time. The first time I saw his cock, I was stunned. I was embarrassed. After not having had sex for a while, admittedly, I was sexually excited even if it was my own son’s prick.

Then, over time, having grown not only accustomed to seeing his errant, erect cock but also looking forward to seeing his errant erect cock, intent of having the sexy sight of my son’s big prick do something for me, I decided to enjoy the sexy how. Sitting back in the comfort of my overstuffed chair, away from his line of sight and out of view from his peripheral vision, whenever he flashed me his cock whether purposely or accidentally, I fingered my nipples and gently rubbed my clit through my nightgown while watching him sleep. Knowing that he’s right there sleeping is even more sexually arousing than just imagining him while masturbating. If he awakened and turned his head, he’d catch me masturbating myself.

What would I say if he caught me fingering my nipples and rubbing my clit? What would I do if he caught me masturbating? Would he offer me his hand, his mouth, and his cock? Or would we just sit there with him staring at me while touching myself while I stared at his exposed prick. The only thing stopping me from having sex with him is because I’m his mother and he’s my son. If we weren’t blood related, I would have seduced him a long time ago.

“I want him,” I mumble to myself while wishing his fingers were touching me instead of my own. “I have to have him,” I move my lips in a hushed, silent whisper for no one to hear but myself. “I love watching his long, thick cock grow so hard in his thin pajama bottom. As if I’m holding him, I can just feel him growing hard in my hand. As if I’m sucking him, I can just feel him pulsate in my mouth. As if I’m making love to him, I can just feel him fucking me.”

As if I’ve never watched him sleep before, I watch him sleeping so soundly on the couch now. Where did the time go? More than twenty years later, after the birth of him, he grew to be such a beautiful man. He looks older than twenty. If I saw him on the street, I’d think he was at least 25-years-old. Not that long ago, it seems as if he was just a beautiful, little boy, my son the doctor, the lawyer, and the engineer. Now, my son the college student, when did he grow to be such a beautiful man? How did he grow to be such a beautiful man and where was I when he was growing so strong, so handsome, and so muscular? When did I start having incestuous thoughts of him being my sexual partner instead of my son? Where did he get such a hot body, a body that any woman would want to take to her bed, even his sexually, frustrated mother?

“God help me. I’m crazy with incestuous desire for him,” I whisper under my breath while fondling my big tit and fingering my nipple as if my hand and fingers were his hand and fingers.

I created him. I conceived him. I birthed him and I raised him. Besides his father, I’m the one responsible for him being here. It’s all my fault for having a son instead of a daughter. What should have been a shared responsibility, had my husband not gone and died on me, I probably wouldn’t be lusting over my son in the way that I do now. With all that happened to me in my past, I should have known that I shouldn’t have had children. Unable to break the cycle, I should have known that having been a victim of incest would turn me into a predator of incest. I’m so crazy mad in my desire for my son. It’s not normal for a mother to want her son in a sexual way but apparently I’m not normal because I do want my son.

Alas, if I were God showering me with the man of my dreams, I couldn’t have created a better man for myself than my son. As if he was my beloved husband, John, twenty years ago, seeing my son now is as if reliving my life when I first married his father. It’s not fair that I should be so sexually attracted to my son. It’s not fair that I be subjected to the incestuous temptation of him.

“I miss you John. I’ll always love you John. Forgive me for lusting over our son, but a grieving widow, I need the loving comfort my son has to give, if only he would,” I mouthed the words without saying them for fear of awakening my sleeping son. “What’s so wrong with a mother wanting to sexually comfort her son? I wish I could touch him. I wish I could hold his big cock in my hand while stroking him. I wish I could suck him. I wish I could fuck him.”

For sure, not wanting him to know that he’s so exposed and not wanting him to know that I stare at his erect cock every night, I don’t want to ruin his nightly show of exhibitionism and my favorite show of voyeurism. Watching his cock grow in magnificent erected splendor is one of the few things that I so look forward to seeing every night. Escort bayan Usually the other way around with the woman being the exhibitionist and the man being the voyeur, in the case of my son, our roles are reversed. Perhaps because of what happened to me, my whole life has gone haywire with the lust that I now harbor for my son.

Little did I know, all this time the answer to my dreams and sexual fantasies was right there sleeping before me on the couch, while I mindlessly watched television and pretended not to notice him. Who knew? In the way of a man not noticing a stripper stripping off her clothes on stage, how could I not notice him? There was no way that I couldn’t lust over him especially when he started flashing me his cock whether accidentally or purposefully.

I had hot flashes every time he held me, hugged me, and gave me a peck on the lips while wishing he’d part my lips with his tongue and kiss me, really kiss me. I dream of my son French kissing me, his mother, while touching me, feeling me, and caressing me. Tempted to find out, I wondered what he’d do if I parted his lips with my tongue? I wondered what he’d do if I put his hand upon my breast through my blouse and bra, and force my tongue in his mouth while reaching down to feel and fondle his cock growing hard through his pants. Would he embrace me or push me away?

Would he surrender his tongue to me and return my kiss? Or would he recoil and admonish me for trying to French kiss my own son while having him feel me as I groped him? Dizzy with incestuous delirium with the mere thoughts of having incestuous sex with my son, I think of having sex with no other man but my son. Even though I question my desire for him daily and even though I try to control my incestuous thoughts by trying not to have them and berating myself when I do, I have no answers for my inappropriate attraction to him, only more questions?

Why can’t I have him? When can I have him? Why must I wait so long to have sex with my son? How can I seduce him? Would he be agreeable to my sexual advances or would he think of me as a dirty, old woman? I don’t know. I don’t know. I just don’t know and will never know until one of us crosses the incestuous line.

“How dare I! What’s wrong with me to lust over my own son?” I mumble to myself. “Reincarnated in a female body, I’ve grown to be just as twisted as my uncle and cousin. For sure, if I were his father and he were my daughter, I would have raped her by now. The only reason why I have any restraint at all is because I’m a mature, loving woman and not a testosterone filled, animal of a man.”

Only, I can’t help myself any longer from wanting to be with my man of a boy naked and in bed. With such a beautiful body and the same handsome face of his father staring back at me, he is if his father never died. He is the reason why I cannot get over my grief. In the body of my son, my husband is still here, healthy, alive, and still with me.

In the very way I was sexually attracted to his father, why wouldn’t I be sexually attracted to my son? Just as my uncle and cousin taught me about sex, I’d love to teach my son about sex too. I know my son is a virgin, I can tell. A mother always knows. I’d love to be the first one to gently ease him into the world of sexual intimacy and lustful love before letting him go to find the woman of his dreams. I’d love to teach him all that a woman wants from a man when making love.

It’s foolish for me to even think that I’m the woman of his dreams. How can I be? I’m his mother. Someone who looks like him can have any woman. Why would he want me? If anything, being the exhibitionist and incestuous slut that I am, I’m the woman of his nightmares instead of the woman of his dreams.

Yet aside from who I am, his mother, and who he is, my son, I can’t help myself from thinking what it would be like to kiss him, to touch him, to feel him, and to fondle him in a sexual way. I’d love to feel his cock grow hard in my hand while staring at it and running my fingers over the head of his hard prick. I’d love to feel his cock stiffen in my mouth while I look up at him with the love that only a mother can give her son. I’d love to feel his cock buried deep inside me while pulsating in my pussy as he humped me and I humped him until we developed a rhythm and started fucking, really fucking, instead of making love and before making love again. Doing it all over again, I yearn to be with my son intimately, sexually, and incestuously forever and always.

“Only, I can’t do that and, definitely, I shouldn’t do that to him. How can I seduce my own son? How can I pressure him to make love to me? I must control myself. I must be the strong one. I must be the mature one. I’m his mother for God’s sakes. Still, I’d love to give him as much pleasure as he’d no doubt give me,” I say while whispering my incestuous lust for no one to hear, not even my son, but me.

Only, admittedly and unabashedly, I couldn’t help myself from noticing him, especially after he developed Bayan escort an erection as he slept. His cock gets so big. His cock gets so hard. His father developed numerous erections during the night and I loved how his cock poked me in the ass when we spooned. Sometimes, I’d touch his cock while he slept. Once I masturbated while he was sleeping. He never awakened. Another time, every man’s fantasy, I sucked his cock as he slept. Only, as he was cumming in my mouth, as he took my face in his hand before placing a gentle hand behind my head to hump my mouth and fuck my face, he called out his mother.

“I love you Mommy,” he said in his sleep.

I love you Mommy? Shocked, I was baffled that he’d call out his mother’s name as I sucked his cock and as he was cumming in my mouth. Was he calling me Mommy or was he calling his mother Mommy? Now suspect, especially with the incestuous background that I had, did his mother ever suck his cock or did he always wish his mother would suck his cock?

The next day, after he awakened and after I confessed that I sucked him in his sleep, I asked him why he’d call out his mother’s name. A single, lonely, and sexually frustrated mother, he told me that he too was the victim of incestuous incest when his mother gave him regular hand jobs and blowjobs after he satisfied her incestuous lust for her son with his fingers and tongue. So I’m not the only one. Being that incest runs on both side of the family, what choice do I have than to seduce my son as my mother-in-law seduced her son.

“Wow, even my husband experienced his mother sexually,” I said to myself after he told me.

Then, when I was alone with my bad self and masturbating while thinking of my mother-in-law having sex with my husband, I transposed my mother-in-law with the image of me and my husband with the image of my son. While fingering my nipples and rubbing my clit, I imagined sucking and fucking my son. Then, when my husband died, alone with my son and my bad thoughts, my lust for my son grew in relationship to my loneliness and grief.

As if watching a flower bloom in fast forward motion, I first noticed my son’s prick when it grew to a slight bulge in his pajama bottom. Exciting for me to watch his prick develop from a soft, small lump to something so hard and so big, watching his cock grow and harden made me feel horny and sexy. My incestuous, sexual fantasy come true, I wish I could feel his cock growing in my hand and/or growing in my mouth. Watching his cock stiffen made me touch myself and being that he was flashing me his erection, albeit through his pajamas, I wanted to return the favor by flashing him my tits, my nipples, and the dark, blonde impression my pubic hair made through my thin, nearly transparent nightgown. Definitely, he has his father’s big cock.

Mesmerized by the slow movement of it, as if his growing prick was a snake ready to arise from his pajama bottoms, I watched his cock slowly slide and make its way across his hard belly. Hoping I wouldn’t awaken him but knowing, somehow, that I would if I dared touch him, I so wanted to reach out my hand and touch his cock, feel his cock, and stroke his cock, before taking his cock in my mouth to suck his cock. It was then that I wondered if I drugged him with sleeping pills, as my way of having my wicked way with him without him knowing that I had my wicked way with him, if he’d still get an erection. I may have to mix the sleeping pills with Viagra for my incestuous plan to work. Alas, relegated to watching his prick grow bigger and harder while not touching his cock, I watched his cock pulsate in the way that I imagined his penis throbbing in my hand, my mouth, and my pussy.

As if he was a CFNM dancer, oh such a sexy show he gives me, his horny, sexually frustrated, incestuous slut of a mother, I couldn’t wait to take him in my mouth to suck him and to make him cum. Shooting cum all over my hair, my face, and my breasts, I imagined my son giving me a cum bath. Bathing in his cum to signify his lust for me, his mother, if only he would, I’d be a happy woman.

I wondered if he called my bluff, what I’d do. Would I return his kiss and French kiss him if he parted my lips with his tongue? Would I allow him to feel my breasts while fingering my nipples, if he reached out his hands to fondle my big tits through my sheer nightgown. What would my reaction be to him feeling and squeezing my ass if he reached his hand around me and down? Would I allow him to reach his hand beneath my nightgown to cup my blonde, trim pussy and to finger me? Would I slap his hand away or would I return the incestuous favor and feel his cock through his pants? Honestly, all he’d have to do is to feel my big tits while fingering my hard nipples and I’m his. With my nipples my erogenous zones and my gateway to my sexual arousal, if he fingered my nipples while kissing me, I’d do anything he’d want me to do, even suck his cock.

How far would I go? I didn’t know and wouldn’t know until something more happened between us than watching Escort his cock grow to an erection while he slept. Would I allow him to unbutton my blouse and feel my breast while fingering my nipples through my bra as he kissed and kissed me? Would I allow him to lift up my bra and expose my breasts to his horny eyes or, being that I’m his mother, would I struggle and resist his hands touching me, fondling me, feeling me, and caressing me before surrendering to him? Being that I’m an exhibitionist, I’d love to show my son my topless or naked body. Being that I’m an incestuous predator, I’d have sex with my son but, unable to cross the line first, he’d have to take the first step to go where no son should lead his mother. Once he did that, I’d lead the way and take control of the sexual situation.

Being that I’d love to strip him naked, would I allow him to strip me naked too? Then, once naked, would I allow him to force me down on the bed and finger my pussy before licking my pussy? Would I allow my son to make love to me before fucking me, really fucking me? Making myself crazy with incestuous lust, I’m getting aroused just thinking about my son having his wicked way with my naked body as he slept so soundly on the couch. If only he would and if only I could, I’d be so happy.

Then, there, right there, out of the corner of my eye, I caught more movement of his cock. He must be having a sexual dream. In the way that my husband dreamt about his mother sexually blowing him when I blew him in his sleep, I wondered if my son was dreaming about me sucking him. Then, as if by my horny stare, as if my blue eyes were a snake charmer and was charming his personal, pet snake, I watched his cock move more. Gradually my son’s cock moved higher while stiffening harder. His cock continued growing, until he had a massive erection. Now with his cock tenting his pajama bottoms I could see the side of his big prick and his dark patch of pubic hair through the opening in his pajama. As if teasing me, it was so sexually exciting it was to see bits and pieces of his erect cock.

I couldn’t help myself from fingering my nipples again. If only he’d suck my tits. I couldn’t help myself from rubbing my clit. If only he’d lick my pussy while finger fucking my pussy and before fucking my pussy with that big, hard cock of his. I was so tempted to reach my hand inside his pajama and wrap my fingers around his erection. Only, what if he awakened and caught me holding his cock? What would I do? What would I say?

In the way it happened last night, the night before, and the night before that, I hoped beyond hope that his big prick would find its way out of his pajamas. A mother’s comfort and a mother’s pride and joy, my horny eyes wanted to see his erect cock again. I wanted to stare at it again while fingering my nipples and rubbing my clit. I wanted the sight of his stiff prick to inspire my sexual fantasies and sexy dreams about having sex with my son tonight as it did last night and the night before. I wish I were a contestant on one of those Japanese game shows where a son must guess his mother’s breasts, ass, and pussy against two other woman before a mother must guess her son’s cock from two other men. I’d so love to play that sexy, incestuous game.

“Oh, my God, I’d be in Heaven playing that game,” I whispered.

Giving me something to masturbate over later, I’d love to see his big cock again. Only, wishing I could hold his prick in my hand, alas, I can’t. I’m his mother and he’s my son. Yet, every night, we watch TV together and, just like his father, he falls asleep on the couch. Every night he gets an erection and every night, as if he’s a CFNM dancer, his engorged prick gives me a late night, sexy show of his erection when it emerges from his pajama.

“God help me. I’d do anything to suck that monster. I’d do anything to suck that giant eel. I’d do anything to feel him inside of me.”

Every time I see his cock, I wish I could touch his cock, suck his cock, and fuck his cock. A loving mother showing her son just how much she loves him by sucking him, what’s so wrong with that? Why can’t I blow my son? Why can’t my son cum in my mouth? I’d do anything to swallow him while looking up at him with my big, blue eyes, as his steel pipe is buried in my mouth. Why can’t my son make love to me? Why can’t my son fuck me?

Then, as if on cue, the head of his prick peeked out of the hole of his pajama bottoms as if an eel trying to escape it’s cage. His cock slithered through the opening in his pajama a little more and a little more until as if is prick was the Phoenix arising that promises me a new sexual dawn with the hopefulness of having sex with my son, his cock pushed through his pee-hole opening. A work of art, my stone obelisk, something that I’m directly responsible in making, his cock is exquisitely beautiful. So proud of my son’s big prick, I wish I could show his cock to all of my friends and relatives. Only, no doubt, they’d want him as much as I want him. Not one for sharing my son with anyone, he’s all mine. When his cock finally made its appearance, as it does every night and as I do every night, I turned on the overhead light so that I could see him better as if he was a stripper on stage under the bright lights.

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