Finding Love at Home

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A mother-son love story.
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My mother had always been my ideal woman, matronly, with auburn hair and big brown eyes, a bit on the stout side but curvy. As women liked to say, she carried her weight well. As she aged she only became sexier as she put on more weight in all the right places. I don't know what she saw in my father except that he had a decent job and could provide for her. But what drew me most to her was her smell, that unmistakable heady mixture of lavender, sweat and a deep mustiness that came from her loins. To see her in a tight pair of jeans with heels, pearls and a form fitting sweater was to die for. I doubt she knew she was creating the prototype of my ideal woman, one that all other women would fail to meet. In a way, unwittingly or not, she ruined me for other women. I would never meet anyone like her.

She was a throwback to a 1950s housewife. She liked to cook, bake, clean and take care of the house. She always looked her best, not a hair out of place, even when she was vacuuming. She always had dinner ready for Dad when he came home along with his paper and a glass of Scotch. One night when I was 19 I walked past her bedroom. She was getting ready to go out to an evening with Dad. She was walking around her bedroom in heels, garters, pantyhose, bra and panties. I'll never forget that image. It was the sexiest thing I had ever seen, her black lace panties through which I could barely make out her mound and her black lace bra which strained under the heft of her breasts, the quarter-sized light brown aureolas and thick nipples visible through the fabric. After Mom and Dad left for the evening, I walked into their bedroom. My head went dizzy with the lingering smell of my mother. Everything about her bedroom was sexual, from the soft ample bedding to the bottle of perfume that stood on her nightstand. I opened one of her drawers and plunged my hand into the soft silky folds of her lingerie and underwear. I wasn't bold enough to steal anything. I knew she would notice something like that, but she couldn't deprive me of her scent. I waited up until Mom and Dad came home, giddy with alcohol, laughing and stomping up the stairs to their room where they slammed the door shut. I pulled the sheets up to my chin and pretend to sleep but could only listen.

I wasn't interested in girls my age. They paled in comparison next to my mom. Perhaps the only woman who came close was my ninth grade English teacher Ms. Stacy who, curvy, matronly and solicitous, reminded me of mom but was a poor substitute. Other than her the only woman I thought and fantasized about was Mom.

I thought I would grew out of it, that it was only a passing phase a lot of boys went through, but as I got older my desire for her only intensified. If she knew about my attraction, she never let on. If anything she encouraged it by what she wore and by frequently hugging me and pecking me on the lips. Every time she did I was afraid she would become aware of the bulge in my jeans which I did everything in vain to hide

Not surprisingly, the only porn I was interested in featured younger men and women old enough to be their moms. But I wasn't into the plastic silicone enhanced milfs. Rather, I preferred amateur videos which featured real looking women which I found so much sexier. I tried dating older women. I even met a woman who liked mother/son roleplay. We dated a while but something was lacking from the relationship, a closeness and intimacy that I only enjoyed with Mom.

After college I did what any unemployed young man did. I moved back home. Dad had a new job that required a lot of travel and gone most of the time. That left me and mom. It was like old times again. Mom looked forward to making dinner and she always dressed up for it. For that reason, I never missed dinner at home with her. One night mom asked me what I was going to do with my life.

I said I didn't know.

"You need direction," she said.

"I need the love of a good woman," I smiled.

"That helps too," she said.

Being the fifties housewife she was, she refused to let men do any of the cooking and cleaning in the house and always cleared away the dinner plates. I sat in my chair after a full meal. I heard mom humming in the kitchen. I stood in the doorway and watched her wash dishes at the sink, her behind jiggling as she scrubbed. I don't know if she knew I was staring. She was wearing yellow rubber gloves and standing in high heels. She wore them even at home. I wanted nothing more than to come up behind her and kiss her and declare my undying love to her, but I was frozen by a paralyzing fear, the kind of fear I assume prevents most men from trying to sleep with their mothers.

That night, as I walked past her bedroom, I noticed the light was on in her room. I had already gotten ready for bed and was only wearing boxers. I tapped lightly on the door.

"Come in," she said.

I stepped into her room and the smell inside almost gave me an instant boner, bringing back all those childhood memories. Mom was lying in bed, with her reading glasses on, a book in her lap.

"Hi honey," she said. "I thought you'd be asleep by now."

I shook my head and took another step inside her room.

"Can't sleep," I said.

She patted the edge of the bed.

"Why don't you sit down and tell mom what's on your mind."

I sat down and stared at her. She smiled her maternal smile at me.

"What's wrong, honey?"

"Nothing," I said. "You're just so beautiful."

"You're ridiculous," she said and went back to her book.

I lied down and wrapped my arms around her. She hugged me back

"Oh honey, what's gotten into you?" she said, not upset, only surprised. "What's the matter?"

"I guess I'm afraid I'll never find true love," I said.

"Oh, you will, probably when you least expect it."

"What if I told you I think I already found it."

"You should go after her then instead of spending your nights here at home."

"What is she doesn't know I love her."

"Well, that's a pickle. Do you know her?"

I nodded.

"How well?"

"Very well. She's my best friend."

"Ah, that can be tricky. She probably only sees you as a friend."

"I think you're right," I said.

"Have you tried flowers. Every girl loves flowers."

"That's a good idea, Mom," I said.

"Anytime, dear," she said and pecked my cheek.

I said goodnight and walked away conscious of my engorged penis swinging between my legs.

The next day I had roses sent to the house. Mom cut off the stems and put them in a vase with water.

"I wonder who sent me these. They're lovely."

I couldn't help grinning.

"Charlie!" she said. "You shouldn't have."

"You said women love flowers."

"They do, but I'm your mother."

I just looked at her and smiled.

"Charlie! Oh Heavens. You don't think about me that way, do you?"

"Sometimes, mom. Well, actually, a lot."

"I don't know how I feel about that. I'm flattered but I'm your mom. You're a handsome young man. What would you want do with an old woman like me?"

"Mom, you're beautiful, the most beautiful woman I know."

"Honey, this is just a phase you're going through."

I shook my head. "I've felt this way since I was 13."

She bit her lip. "That is a long time. I think we just need to get this out of our system."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, I think that whatever urges you have you need to act on. Then they'll be done and gone."

"Maybe."

"So what do you think about when you think about me?"

"I think about your legs, your lips, your breasts, your hips, your behind."

"And when you think about this do you get hard?"

I nodded.

"Are you hard right now?"

I nodded.

She look down at my crotch and raised an eyebrow. She reached down and grabbed me. "Wow, you weren't kidding. You are hard. Hard and big. You feel bigger than your father."

I grinned, proud of my manhood.

To my surprise, she didn't let go. She kept touching and rubbing, my erection only growing harder and bigger. "My, my, "she said, clucking her tongue. "If you get any bigger, you'll burst your pants. We wouldn't want you to burst them, now would we?"

I shook my head and she unzipped them, freeing my erection. She held my penis in her hand, examining it, studying it. The head was throbbing and already leaking. She clucked her tongue. She examined it from all angles even from the underside. "That's quite a piece of equipment," she said.

"Thanks, mom."

She took a traveling size tube of moisturizer and squirted some on her hand and started to jerk me in long slow stroke.

"How does that feel?"

"Like heaven," I said, barely able to contain myself.

I couldn't believe my mom was jerking me off. Unfortunately, even as slow as her strokes were, it didn't take long for me to climax, spewing my copious ejaculate all over her.

"Wow, that was a lot of cum," she said. "Your balls must have really full."

I nodded.

"Well, I need to get started on dinner," she said and like that she left, leaving me alone and confused with my shrinking cum covered penis.

The next morning Mom was making me breakfast. I sat down at the breakfast table. She was in her nightie, a vision of loveliness, her swaying breasts visible under the almost translucent material.

"How did you sleep?"

"O.K.," I said.

"Did you get that fantasy out of your system?"

I shook my head.

She sighed. "Frankly, I'm not surprised. A young man with a penis your size is probably insatiable. We'll just have to keep at it until you're sick and tired of that fantasy."

I gulped.

"Spread you legs."

I obeyed.

She knelt in front of me, pulled my penis out of my boxers and let a string of saliva fall from her mouth onto my cock. It felt better using her saliva as a lubricant. It felt more intimate. When I came, I came all over her tits. She said nothing of this and went to her room to change. I didn't see her again until dinner. At dinner she acted perfectly civil and normal as if a few hours earlier she hadn't jacked me off. I wasn't complaining. If mom wouldn't let me sleep with her, I would happily settle for hand jobs.

After dinner Mom said she had read in a women's magazine about the anti-aging properties of semen. "I think there's a way we can both help each other," she said. Each night and morning, she would jack me off making sure to aim my ejaculate at her face which she would then spread around and let dry. It was quite amazing to witness my mother's cum splattered face. The magazine was right. Mom never looked old. But the twice daily semen regimen did make her skin shinier and healthier and seemed to get rid of wrinkles.

Mom said if she could bottle and sell my sperm she would make a fortune.

I laughed. I told her she could have it for free as long as she wanted.

"So this fantasy of yours hasn't gone away, has it?"

I shook my head. "If anything, it's gotten more intense," I said.

She bit her lip. "I was afraid that would happen. Maybe we need to change strategies."

"How so?"

"Maybe we need to up the ante," she said mysteriously and left it at that.

That night, as I walked past her bedroom, I heard mother's lilting voice call to me. "Charlie, will you come in here a minute." I stepped into her semi-dark bedroom. The smell immediately seized and intoxicated me. Mom was lying in bed. She patted the edge of the bed and had me sit. As I did, she straddled me and pushed me back on the bed. I looked at my beautiful mother, her tits swinging over me, her nipples almost within reach. In one swift expert motion she lifted her nightie over head, exposing her pendulous breasts to me. I loved how they hung. I reached up and cupped them without asking her. She didn't seem to mind. Next she undid a barrette in her hair and her long auburn hair came tumbling down, cascading around my face. She was grinding on my erection. I grinded back. Growing bolder, I rolled her nipples between my thumb and forefinger. She titled back her head and moaned. It took me a second to realize she wasn't wearing panties, that the only thing between her loins and mine was my boxers. Reaching down, she threaded my penis through my fly. Much better, she said. We continued to grind, rubbing our genitals together. She was very wet and I was precuming loads so our juices mixed. She was working herself into a frenzy while she rubbed on me and I played with her nipples. Once she couldn't take it anymore, she lifted her hips, reached down and placed my cock head against her vulva whereupon she eased herself back down on me as I slowly penetrated her inch by inch. She moaned as I slowly filled her. She was tighter than expected. I felt so connected to her both physically and emotionally. For a while she just rested there with my cock inside her not moving, savoring the fullness. Then, very slowly, like a train picking up speed, she started to thrust. Her eyes rolled back and I met each one of her thrust. I wanted to say we fucked but really we made love. I couldn't hold it back much longer and whispered, "I'm going to cum." Mom didn't seem to hear or if she did she didn't care. Once I started to cum, I couldn't hold back. It was like opening a floodgate. I had never cum so much in my life. I must have spurted five or six times. Mom laid her head on my chest. I held her and kissed her as my penis softened inside her. We held that embrace for a long time. We kissed. "That was amazing," she said. "I didn't think a man has ever cum that much inside me."

I played with her hair. "I don't think I've ever cum that much either." She laid her head back down my chest and we fell asleep.

I woke up wondering if the night before had all been a dream. But I looked around and realized to my delight I was lying in my mother's bed. I could hear her in the shower, humming (her bedroom had its own bathroom). I walked in and sat down on the toilet, admiring my mother's figure through the fogged glass shower door. When she stepped out and dried herself, she didn't seem surprised to see me. Instead, she walked to me and held my head against her slightly distended tummy. I gazed up at her with awe as she ran her fingers through my hair.

"How did you sleep?"

"Like a champ."

"Why don't you clean up and I'll make us breakfast."

I smiled. "Sounds like a plan."

I watched her walk away, her hips swaying under her robe, her hair wrapped in a towel. I couldn't believe that gorgeous woman was my mother.

I didn't know what to do. I had fallen hard for my mother, a married woman. No other woman would do. We were perfect together in ever way. At breakfast I told her how I felt. She stared at me, her arms crossed over her chest.

"Well, that's a pickle, isn't it?"

"I love you, mom. I mean I really, really love you. I want to be with you. Always."

"Honey, that's going to be hard with your father around."

"Come away with me," I said. "We'll start a new life together. No one will have to know who we are."

"The idea is tempting, I have to admit, a second life with my son. Let me think about it."

Later, there was a knock at my door. "Come in," I said. Mom walked in and sat on the edge of my bed.

"I've thought very hard about this and I want to do it."

I smile the biggest smile in my life and hugged her. "I'm so glad, mom. I'll make you the happiest woman in the world. Whatever it takes."

"Don't get ahead of yourself," she said. "You're going to have to have responsibilities. You're going to have to find a job and provide for me."

"I will. I'll do anything for you."

She stood up. "So it's settled. As soon as you're packed we can leave."

"I don't need to pack."

"Why?"

"I already did."

That day we left the house never to return. I'm not going to say it was all roses from then on end. Like any couple, we had our ups and downs, but mostly ups, and most importantly I was with the woman I loved.

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Foxterot7aFoxterot7a9 months ago

I like this story. Although unusual, I am glad that their is no shame, guilt, self-loathing nor self-recrimination between mother and son over their love for each other. Likewise, I appreciated the fact that the mother's and son's self-awareness, sense of self, ego and id allowed for them to free love each other. My one concern was how the husband/father was informed of their new life without him. Although written approximately 12 years ago, I would enjoy an update.

AnonymousAnonymousover 1 year ago

How about an update

AnonymousAnonymousalmost 6 years ago
The reason why the story is low rated is simple

What about the Dad? There was no mention in the story about him failing as a husband or a father, about him being neglectful or abusive or a cheater or any of that to even consider that he might have deserved being betrayed by his family like that. Likewise, there is not one shred of information about either of these two feeling any guilt or conflict over leaving him high and dry. It's like once he tells her he has a thing for her, his father immediately becomes an irrelevant non-entity. She's been with him for over 20 years, and in that time he's supported her and from the only interaction we've seen gets along with her just fine, she doesn't seem to have any complaints yet can ditch him like this. He's raised that kid and paid to put him through college, again the son never has a complaint about his father but still betrays him like that without a moment's thought. Hell, since she doesn't work (and apparently demands to remain a housewife) and the son is unemployed, them leaving the same day like that doesn't make any sense. What did they do, raid the savings and retirement accounts and fuck over the husband that way too? Finally, we have another story in which "new guy has a bigger cock and a larger cum shot" appears to the sole reason the wife leaves her man for a new one. That shit may fly with the cuck stories you see on LW and IR sections, but these are supposed to be erotic romance stories, not "big tits plus big cock equals perfect couple" juvenile wank fests.

doug_noughtdoug_noughtover 6 years ago

I cannot believe how low the story is rated... it's fucking perfect IMO.

AlwaystabooAlwaystabooabout 7 years ago
Great story

Mother and son so very lucky

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