Christmas With Mom Ch. 01

I close my eyes, recline my seat, and try to sleep. It will not come. My mind wanders, swinging from thought to thought like a monkey from tree to tree. No, that is not right, monkeys are fun and happy, I have not been happy in a couple of years. This airliner is taking me home. At least for a time and to the physical place I call home, but home is no more.

A far different place than what I left in joining the Marines a bit shy of three years ago. It had changed and I had changed. Combat had been the impetus for my change. As for home, my father died a bit less than a year ago while rescuing victims of a gulf coast hurricane. My hero was gone. The man who I was continually told that I was the "spitting image" of and who I modeled myself after would not be greeting me at the door.

He was gone from this earth, but not my head. My head had become his residence after death. He accompanied me night and day. I heard stories he had told me as a boy about his experiences facing the hell of war. His stories revolved around a brotherhood and loyalty to those he served with. Especially to the man who had drug him to safety after he had taken shrapnel in the leg. This loyalty drove him to risk his life for others and drove me to do the same. Seeing my Father's face when one of my men received a bullet from a sniper, I became that man which Dad had spoken so highly of.

After the hurricane, I even wondered how much of a door would be left. Rather than home, I was actually just returning to my Mother for Christmas. Mom is an amazing woman; beautiful, strong, and intelligent. Even more so, she is caring and loving. Caring and loving of others to the point that she convinced me that my platoon needed me as their combat commander more than she needed me. Instead of grieving, Mom had spent the early months of widowhood helping the elderly after the killer storm.

By the tone of her letters, I could see that the loss of Dad was now weighing her down. My perky fun Mom was neither fun nor perky to talk with. Efforts at consoling her were rapidly brushed away. She claimed to be too old to date. She claimed to not be sexy anymore. I knew this was not true as she had always garnered the attention of men and even my friends as I was growing up. Instead our phone conversations revolved around me telling her stories of war. She said they helped as it reminded her of reading letters from Dad.

Stepping off the plane, I saw her as beautiful as ever. Her face held a smile. We hugged, as she held me her voice whispered in my ear.

"It is Christmas Eve. Wipe the sadness from your face. Time to live, time for both of us to recover. We will not be spending this precious time together in anything but joy." As we separated from our embrace, all bubbly, mom began telling me of our plans for the evening and Christmas. It would be a Christmas just as I had remembered.

Relaxing in front of the fire, full from Mom's amazing cooking, I sipped cognac. As we began reminiscing, Mom handed me a present. We had always opened one present on Christmas Eve. Every year I was disappointed to get pajamas. For once I remembered, and would not give her an ungrateful look.

I most certainly would not. Not only had I matured, but this year's jammy was a very nice black silk robe.

"You know the tradition. Go, put it on." Mom commanded.

In short order, I returned wearing the robe over my olive drab t-shirt and under wear. Her response was less than agreeable: "I do not think so young man! That green looks so tacky and I bought soft silk for it to be felt against your skin. Off with the skivvies!"

Returning with nothing on underneath, Mom lifted my robe to verify the absence of underwear. "Oh, you are much bigger than when I used to give you baths." As odd as it sounds, this actually broke some ice in that I had been wondering how I would keep from flashing Mom my cock while she sat across from me. Her light hearted personality did always know how to make people feel good and the robe did in fact feel wonderful against my skin as well.

For the next little while, Mom sat quietly remembering with a soft smile as I reminisced to her about Christmas Eve past. I confessed to her how I was always disappointed opening pajamas. I also confessed to her how the disappointment faded as I remembered the gift she would open just after me was always a sexy nightgown. Rather than going to sleep thinking about the toys under the tree, I went to sleep thinking about the nightgown and just what Mom would look like in it on Christmas morning. Looking into her eyes I told her how beautiful she was every Christmas morning. It was the one time each year that I got to see her breasts through a sheer nightie. I conveniently left out looking at her pubic triangle and even getting glimpses of her shaved pussy one Christmas morning. I also failed to mention that my lovely Mother in lingerie is what I thought about in my tent the last couple of Christmas mornings. "You know Mom, as a real small boy I wondered why Dad did not get a present on Christmas Eve? Did not take too many Christmas mornings to figure out what his present was."

As Mom stepped out of the den headed for her room, my mind raced wondering if she would return wearing a sexy sheer nightie. Instead she returned with a book. "Your Father wrote erotic stories. This is a book of his favorites. His Christmas Eve present was my fulfilling one of the fantasies he wrote about each year."

Opening the book, I began to read with fascination. Once again I could hear Dad's voice in my head: "My lovely shy Wife, who is also Mother of my young Son, returned from tucking him in bed. Her apologies I quickly brushed aside, motioning for her to kneel between my legs. A few minutes earlier, it had been almost a joy pulling out of her warm wet pussy as he had barged in unannounced interrupting our love making. A joy only because she had agreed that if we were interrupted she would be willing to suck my cock...."

His voice was soon mixed with Mom's, who was now leaning against me reading over my shoulder. As I enjoyed the feel of her voluptuous breasts against my arm, she began a parallel rendition of commentary to Dad's story I was reading: "Growing up back in the day, good girls did not suck on cocks, even their husband. That Christmas Eve, I wore a sexy little house wife thing with a see thru apron. ... I was so surprised when I tasted his delicious cum in my mouth."

My mind absolutely went wild. I pictured Mom's gorgeous mouth wrapped around Dad's big heavily veined cock. Yes, I know he had a big cock. As we spent time hunting and fishing together, we stood side by side urinating many times. My wish over the years was for my cock to be as impressive as his. As I pictured her lips dripping with his cum, I felt my cock grow even harder. Looking down seeing the swollen purple head of my stiff cock protruding from my robe right about my belly button, I felt a sense of pride and excitement. The cock that I pictured Mom devouring with her head's bobbing up and down on, was identical to my own.

Knowing that the head of my hard cock was no longer concealed by the robe, I moved the book more over my lap. Mom pulled it back towards her, flipping over a couple of stories. "The ones with two red checks by the title were his Christmas gifts." I was not sure if her fingers intended to open my robe while moving the book. I was sure about the results. My cock was now fully erect and fully exposed just inches from her face.

As always, Mom had a way of addressing the obvious without embarrassing me. Like when she picked me up from school and I had a fresh black eye. My eye was not mentioned, but she told me that she would appreciate it if I did not tell my Father about her clumsiness. Lifting her skirt, she showed me a bruise on her thigh. My eye was forgotten and whatever story she was telling me about bumping into the table was lost as I gazed at her lovely legs.

I began reading the story Mom flipped over to. A story about Mom and Dad on a nude beach. As I read, Mom began a description of a short baby-doll nightie that did not cover her pussy and how Dad had shaved her Christmas Eve. I could picture it very clearly in my mind. I loved that Christmas morning. Apparently the story was fulfilled completely in their trip to Mexico come mid-January. Picturing Mom lying completely naked on the beach beside Pop, I wished that I was one of the other tourists walking along admiring her.

A couple of stories later, I was surprised and even began to laugh. "You had sex in front of Grandpa and Grandma?"

Mom replied: "Actually just your Dad's Step-Father. After Grandma passed away, he spent the holidays with us. He slept in your room. Do you remember how he let you have your room back, sleeping on the couch from Christmas Eve until he left? We conveniently left the door open giving him a different erotic show each night. In fact some of these stories, he watched as we re-enacted them just for his audience."

I stopped to read a story that had only one check. It caught my attention as it was titled "Captain John." This was the man who died saving Dad's life. The man who I pictured as I rescued a friend in distress. Not only had Dad told me about him, but Mom filled in additional details over the last few months following Dad's passing. It brought a tear to my eyes. Odd for erotica, but it was touching how Dad reasoned that a man who gave all in saving his life deserved the best that Dad had. The best he had was his beautiful wife.

I pondered how could this be fulfilled when Captain John was dead. "Why was there a single check, rather than the standard two?"

"It is this year's fantasy." Hearing Mom's voice from across the room brought to my attention that I had been pondering out loud. It also made me aware that she was not still sitting at my side as I read. Mom stood in the doorway leading from her bedroom wearing a robe matching the one she had given to me. "You have revered your Father and John to a point of worship. Beyond what is mentally healthy. Accept the gift I give to your father. Be a proxy in his fantasy for John. In so doing come into yourself as your own man. Make love to your Mother. Fuck Mommy!"

She looked absolutely radiant. Her blonde hair glistened against the black robe. The cleavage of her creamy white breasts begged to be kissed. Her beautiful long legs with the short robe just covering her pussy. Shivers went up my spine. The robe, so sexy, covered just enough to confirm that I had crossed a point of reason. I do not know about the psychology of her worshiping Dad and John or whether "fucking Mommy" was any healthier mentally. I did know, I would be opening that robe. I would see, I would have mommy's breasts, her pussy. I would fuck Mommy!

In a haze I crossed the room. I had always been enamored with Mom, it was now mixed with pure lust. Taking her into my arms I kissed her passionately. I kissed her lips, the lips I had pictured dripping with Dad's cum. kissing, sucking, tasting her lips, the thought of his cum was replaced with a sweet taste of not only her lips but a desire for it to be my cum spilling over her succulent lips.

My hand parted her robe, cupped her full luscious breasts. Once again my mind wandered, picturing John's arm with his eagle, globe, and anchor tattoo protruding from the silky black robe. The thought of his hand cupping her breast, rubbing Mom's hardening nipple was replaced with my own. His tattoo faded leaving my own arm.

It took all my will power to take a single step back from my Mother. I removed my robe, the robe meant for John. Reaching out I removed the robe from my Mother, the robe from my Father. I removed his fantasy. His erotica, I rewrote as my own. My eyes drifted over her entire body, adoring, lusting. I stopped on her shaven pussy. Her pussy, even more beautiful than I remembered.

My staring was only interrupted by Mom's soft whisper: "I hope you do not mind. You seemed to like seeing it shaved on the previous Christmas. How you could not stop looking, seemed it sparked some fantasies of your own."

Pulling Mother against ME I kissed her passionately. I lifted her up into MY arms. For the first time in a couple of years, my mind did not jump. It held fixed on my desire for this beautiful woman, for Mom.

I carried her not into Dad's bedroom, but into MINE. I laid her down upon my bed. The same bed that I was in with my high school girlfriend when Mom walked in on us. I looked down upon her, I soaked in her beauty. The Beauty of my Mom, the beauty of my soon to be lover.

Our lips met in a soft tender kiss, a kiss that became passionate, even becoming lustful the longer we held it. My hands wandered, caressed her glorious body. I could feel the moistness of Mom's pussy against my belly. As I began kissing her neck purposely towards her breasts, dreaming of tasting her wet cunt, her hands pulled me tight against her. Her finger nails pressed into my ass pulling me tighter and my cock harder against the sweet opening of her pussy.

Again I tried to kiss my way down, wanting, desiring to please Mother in every way. Her desperate plead stopped me. "I need you in me. I need your cock to fill Mommy's pussy. Make love to me tomorrow. Tonight I need my baby's hard muscular body to FUCK Mommy!"

I pushed my cock head into her tight pussy. She felt wonderful, so tight, so wet. I do not know if it was so good because it had been so long for her, if it was because she lusted after her Son, if it was because I was finally getting my fantasy to fuck Mommy. I do not actually care. I just know that the tip of my cock had entered heaven.

This bliss was short lived, to be replaced by greater bliss. Again her hands grasped the cheeks of my ass, with her fingernails pressing in just enough to make known there would be no argument. She pulled me in deep and hard. She gasped and began bucking hard against me. "Fuck me, Fuck me hard. Please, please fuck Mommy."

I could not have refrained my body, even if she had not asked. I had lost all reason. It was all now animal lust as our pelvises slapped against each other. My cock was beyond anything I have ever known. I would be filling her pussy full of my cum in no time. I begged her to climb on top. "Please Mom. i do not want to cum yet, I do not want this to be over."

She would not relent: "Fuck me Baby, fill Mommy's pussy. Please, please fill me with your cum!" I had no choice but to be an obedient Son. I could feel my cum boiling up from the depths of my balls. I fucked her harder, with echoes of her moans, gasps, and even screams cheering me on.

With my cum beginning to drip from Mom's pussy, I collapsed. If dreams of making love to my own Mother in every way can be called sugar plums, then they danced in my head. My own fantasies for Mom to fulfill each Christmas began to form that very night.

My dreams I have communicated with her and shared with others writing as ErosWizard on Literotica. I am thinking about rewriting Dad's fantasies for others to see. I have also asked Mom and my Wife to share theirs. My wife I will introduce in a later chapter. She actually has already made multiple appearances in our own erotic adventured shared on Literotica.