Losing the House but Winning Mom 08

"Oh, don't be so modest. You don't have anything that I haven't seen before," she said with another laugh. "Actually, you don't have anything that I haven't touched, stroked, sucked, and fucked before," she said with a dirty albeit sexy laugh.

Maybe the wine was getting to his mother but not believing that their dialogue was going anywhere but to sexually frustrate him, he changed the subject.

"After I'm gone to live with or marry a woman, you can't stay here alone and wither away Mom. Everyone needs someone in their life. You're still young. You still have lots of life to live and a lot of love to give to someone," he said. "You need to live your life Mom. There are lots of good men out there who would love to have someone like you in their lives," he said cringing at the thought of his mother in the arms of another man.

As crazy as the thought was, he wished he could live with his mother forever as a man and woman, as boyfriend and girlfriend, or as husband and wife instead of as mother and son. Not ever needing another woman to sexually satisfy him, having sex with her every night and every morning, how hot would that be to have his mother sexually in his life? How hot would that be to take his mother as his wife? Happily living together as a married couple forever and forsaking all others until the day they die, he would if she would.

"After all of these years, your father leaving me and rejecting me for someone younger has finally opened my eyes. He left me for a 22-year-old woman when I was 32-years-old. Now, that I'm 42-years-old woman, him leaving me for her still hurts. Yet, helping me, you finally opened my eyes by making me feel sexy, beautiful, and loved."

He looked at his mother as if she was a beauty queen and to him she certainly was.

"Don't you ever doubt that for a minute. You are beautiful and sexy. And I love you," he said but in the way that a man loves a woman and not in the way that a son loves his mother.

Again, if this was any other woman other than his mother, he'd be all over her. He'd be holding her, hugging her, and kissing her, French kissing her, while feeling her through her clothes. While looking at her sitting across from him in her blouse and short skirt, now that he knows what she looks like in her sexy underwear, he imagined her sitting across from him in her low cut bra and white, bikini panties. Now that he knows what she looks like topless, he imagined her sitting across from him topless. Now that he knows that she looks like naked, he imagined her sitting across from him naked.

"Thank you, Michael," she said but in the way that a mother loves her son and not in the way that a woman loves a man.

Yet, in a weak and vulnerable moment, after she lost her house to foreclosure and was forced to live in a seedy motel room with him, she did strip off her clothes. Sexually teasing him and erotically enticing him, she paraded around him in her panty and bra. Then, not expecting her to do that, she removed her bra. She showed him her tits, her areolas, and her nipples. She showed him her topless body and then, stripping off her panties too, she showed him her naked body too.

Even more than the sexy striptease show she willingly gave him, she had sex with him. His mother gave him incestuous sex. He had incestuous sex with his mother. He fucked his mother and she fucked him. He licked his mother and she sucked him. He gave his mother and orgasm and she allowed him to ejaculate his cum in her mouth.

"So, why didn't you date or remarry?"

He looked at her as if he was talking to a woman he met in a bar.

"Never taking the time to consider my feelings, my life was always about your father. I just figured that if all men were like him in that regard, then I wasn't eager to live my life with another man. I'd rather be alone," she said. "It's not so bad."

She looked at him to give him a brave smile.

"I would think that it would be lonely for you without having someone to love," he said with him feeling lonely with him not having anyone love but for his mother.

He looked at her with a face full of sexual frustration.

"As long as I still have you in my life, I'm happy being alone and not having to cook, clean, and cater to a man's whims and needs. It's different catering to your whims and needs," she said with a little laugh. "You're my son, my blood, and I love you." Then, she said what he was hoping she'd say. "I'd rather live my life with you than with any man."

Damn, playing right into his thoughts, he wondered if she'd live forever with him in the way that he wished he could live forever with her.

"He's gone now Mom. He's not returning. He's never coming back," said Michael obviously happy by that thought. "Not all men are insensitive and selfish pigs. There are a lot of good men out there who aren't married, lying, cheating bastards," he said while thinking of himself as being single and available should his mother want him.

Only, in the way that he was sexually and incestuously thinking about his mother, with the apple not falling far from the tree, he was as much of a pig as was his father. Every time he looked at her, undressing her with his eyes, he thought of having forbidden, incestuous sex with is mother. Every time he looked at his mother, he thought of her in her underwear, topless, and/or naked. Every time he looked at his mother, he thought of kissing her, French kissing, her while feeling her through her clothes before stripping her naked.

Now that he had sex with her once, he thought of having sex with her again. Now that he had eaten her pussy, every time he looked at his mother, he thought of fingering her pussy while licking her pussy. Now that he had made love to his mother, every time he looked at his mother, he thought of making love to his mother. Now that he had fucked his mother, every time he looked at his mother, he thought of fucking his mother. Now that he gave his mother an orgasm with his mouth, his fingers, and his cock, he wanted to give her another orgasm. Now that his mother blew him, every time he looked at his mother, staring longingly at her full, soft lips, he thought of her sucking him, him cumming in her mouth, and her swallowing his cum.

"I know," she said with sadness while staring in her wine glass as if reading her fortune in a cup of tea. "Yet, now that I'm older, especially with me having enough money to live on, I don't need a man to make me happy, really I don't. Been there and done that, so long as I still have you in my life, even for just short visits, I'm happy being alone," she said.

Falling in pensive again, she looked sad again.

"Only," she said with a long pause before continuing. Then, as if she was talking to herself, she said softly, "I'd miss having sex. I like having sex," she said before falling quiet. Then, as if he had scripted her to say the words, she said what he wanted her to hear. "I loved having sex with you," she said staring up at him with her big, green eyes.

Such a waste of a good woman, he couldn't imagine his mother without a man in her life. He couldn't imagine his mother living without sex. He couldn't imagine him never again having sex with her. If she found someone else, no doubt always wishing it was him intimately with her, he'd be jealous of her lover, whoever he was. Yet, in the way she was looking at him, he wondered if she was thinking what he was thinking. He wondered if she was thinking about having sex with him in the way that he was thinking about having sex with her. Obviously, for her to say that she loved having sex with him, she was thinking about having sex with him.

"Everyone should have someone in their life, Mom," he said while wanting to say so much more.

It pained him to imagine his mother kissing, French kissing, another man while he felt her beautiful body through her clothes. Already possessively jealous, it pained him to think of his mother stroking and sucking on another man's cock. It pained him to think of some man on top of her and making love to her. It made him mad with jealousy to think of another man pounding her pussy while fucking his mother and giving her an orgasm in the way that he gave her an orgasm.

"I'm grateful for the small things in life. I'm grateful for the fire," she said looking at the fireplace. "I'm grateful for this house," she said looking around the living room. "I'm grateful for you returning home after graduating college to live with me albeit temporarily until you find your own place," she said giving him a warm smile. "I got everything and he got nothing but his freedom from us. He not only walked away from me but also he walked away from you too. What kind of man would walk away from his son?"

They stared at one another until Michael spoke.

"A man who never loved you. A man who never loved us. A man who never loved me," said Michael.

"Now that you mention it, even years later, I'm still sad and I'm still angry over the divorce and I don't know why, other than I'm lonely."

Hoping that it was confused in the translation, perhaps her definition of lonely was horny and sexually frustrated. He wondered if his mother was horny in the way that he was always horny. He wondered if she sexually fantasized about having sex with him in the way that he always sexually fantasied about having sex with her. He wondered if his mother masturbated. He wondered if his mother masturbated over the thoughts of having sex with him in the way that he masturbated over the thoughts of having sex with her. Seemingly now that they had sex, he was even more sexually frustrated now than he ever was before.

* * * * *

Michael was forever horny, especially when alone with his mother in the way that he was now. As if she was a celebrity on stage, and he was an audience member, he watched her slowly and sexily cross her shapely legs. In the way that Sharon Stone did in Basic Instinct when flashing her pussy to the police detectives interrogating her, she sexually teased him and erotically enticed him. Giving her legs his full attention, whenever she slowly and sexily crossed her legs like that, she flashed him a patch of her white, bikini panties. Whenever she crossed her legs so slowly and so sexily, he wondered if she knew she was flashing him her panties and had flashed him her panties. He wondered if she was deliberately flashing him or inadvertently flashing him her panties.

Just as he liked thinking that she knew she was flashing him her panties, he liked thinking that she was deliberately flashing him her panties. No doubt, she knew she was flashing him her panties every time she crossed her legs. No doubt, she was deliberately flashing him her panties. Wishing she was deliberately flashing him, a game of exhibitionism and voyeurism that he'd love to play with his mother, he wondered if she'd flash him deliberately again. Only, instead of wearing a short skirt with panties beneath, he wished she was wearing a short nightgown with no panties beneath.

Nah, she's his mother, she'd never flash him her panties or her pussy on purpose. Would she? Why would she do that when he had already seen her in her underwear and naked even? With her stripping off her clothes to stand before him in her underwear, topless, and naked, maybe she was an exhibitionist. Maybe she was always an exhibitionist but he never knew she was until now.

Wishing his mother was an exhibitionist, how hot would that be if she was? Wishing his mother would deliberately flash him her panties and/or her pussy, how hot would that be for her to play a game of exhibitionism and voyeurism with his MILF of a mother? Nonetheless, coming to his senses while hoping that the wine worked its magic on his mother to lull her lack of awareness that she was flashing him her panties, he felt like such a pervert lusting over his mother. He felt like such a pervert trying to see whatever he could of his mother.

Nothing new, he had lusted over his mother for so long that he couldn't remember when he didn't lust over her. She had always been a MILF. Then, when his father decided to leave, good riddance. After his father left is when he decided to continue living at home instead of living at the dorm and instead of getting his own place to live after graduation. With his mother in his life, happily content with her, he didn't need any other woman. Now hoping to continue seeing more of her, he no longer had his father in the way to ruin his sexy fun and to discourage or impede how his mother dressed in front of him.

"What can I do to cheer you up, Mom? Just tell me, you name it, and I'll do whatever you want. This is your special day. You're the one who always so loved Christmas," he said. "My Christmas gift to you is to give you anything that I can to make you happy," he said waiting for her to answer. Then, when she didn't respond, he continued. "I know," he said with a big smile. "What if I drew you a bath, a bubble bath, and gave you a massage after your bath. Surely, that would relax you and help you to sleep."

If he gave her a bath and a full body massage after that would certainly help him to sleep. He imagined her agreeing to have him run her a bubble bath. While looking to see what he could see of her, he imagined pulling up a stool to keep her company while she bathed. He imagined washing her back while watching all of those big bubbles popping and bursting in front of her to show him more of her beautiful body and more of her big tits. Then, after her bath, he imagined her agreeing to have him give her a full body massage in the way that Mimi Rogers received a full body massage from Bryan Brown in the aptly named movie, Full Body Massage.

With his mother lying face down on her stomach naked, he imagined covering her ass with a small facecloth. Then, after massaging her back, having her turn to lay on her back, he imagined covering his mother's breast and pussy with three small facecloths that were barely large enough to cover anything. Giving his mother a full body massage while touching and feeling her naked body where no son should ever see, touch, and feel his naked mother, that Christmas gift would be more his Christmas gift than it would be her Christmas gift.

She looked at him and smiled while leaning forward in her chair as if it was her turn to make a word when playing Scrabble. A daily event since he moved home, as if they were a retired couple, when they weren't watching movies together, they played Scrabble every day. Taking turns who'd win depending who got the better letters, the K, J, X, Q, Z, the four S's and the two blanks, whenever they played Scrabble, every time she leaned forward to make her words, she'd inadvertently flash him her bra and her cleavage in a down blouse.

When they weren't watching movies together or playing Scrabble, they watched sports together. Surprisingly his mother enjoyed watching football and baseball too. Only, now with them living in Boston instead of her rooting for the Los Angeles Angels or the Los Angeles Dodgers, she'd have to change her allegiance to the Boston Red Sox. Instead of her watching the San Diego Chargers and the Oakland Raiders play, she'd have to root for the New England Patriots winning everything again.

Having masturbated daily while recalling her flashes, he wondered if she knew she was flashing him. He wondered if she knew he was looking down her low cut top while enjoying the down blouse view of her bra and cleavage. He wondered if she knew she was exposing her cleavage and the top of her bra to him whenever she leaned forward. In the way that he wondered if she was deliberately flashing him her panties, he wondered if she was deliberately flashing him her cleavage and the top of her bra. He wondered if he more enjoyed watching movies, playing Scrabble, and watching sports with his mother or if he more enjoyed the down blouse views of her big breasts that she continually gave him. With both equally as sexually enticing, he wondered if he more enjoyed seeing her panties in up skirts or her bra and cleavage in down blouses.

"There's nothing you can do for me that you haven't done already Michael. You're a good son. Thanks for asking," she said not even trying to hide her sadness. "It's just another Christmas to me now. I'll feel better in the morning, once the holiday is over. Actually, I won't feel better until after New Year's Day," she said with a sad, little laugh. "Holidays, once happy events, have turned depressing to me now," she said with a shrug and a look of dejection. "It's just that—" leaning back in her chair, she paused while staring at her glass of wine as if she could see her beloved ex-husband in the reflection of the glass.

A good son? If only she knew the sexual thoughts he always had of her naked while sucking his cock and him fingering her nipples. If only she knew he was thinking of fucking her pussy tonight, what kind of son would she call him then if she knew that he wanted to have sex with her every day and every night? If only she knew how he had lusted over her and masturbated over her while fantasizing having sex with her, he wondered what she'd think and what she'd say about him then. In the way she was so focused on her wine glass instead of on him, he wondered what she'd think of him if she knew he was undressing her with his eyes. Imagining her sitting across from him in her bra and panties, he imagined her standing up while topless to pour more wine before imagining her walking out to the kitchen naked to get more food. In the way that he was always thinking about her, he wondered if she was thinking more about her ex-husband than she was thinking of him.

Rather than thinking about him, her son, who was there with her now, instead of looking over at him, she stared at his reflection in the Christmas ornaments that hung from the Christmas tree in front of them. With her green eyes moving from one ornament to the next, obviously, she was staring at all of the Christmas ornaments her ex-husband gave her through the years. He wished she was thinking about him in the way that she was always preoccupied with his father. Gone, gone, gone, his father was gone for years now, gone for good, and was never coming back. If his father didn't think of her and care how she felt when he left her, and no doubt doesn't think of her now, why is she wasting her time thinking of him now?

"What mother? What were you going to say? You started to say something. It's just that...what mother? You didn't finish your thought. Tell me."

Michael looked at his mother as if she was the only woman in the world and in the way that he was so focused on her with his stare and with his thoughts, at that point in time, she was.

"I know it sounds silly and I can't believe I'm telling you this but, with you now old enough to understand such things, what I miss the most about your father is sleeping with him," she said biting her lip while looking at her son.

With him only sleeping with her that one night, he knew what that empty feeling was not to have her in his bed every night. Instead of giving him a sexy look, she gave him a sad look. Was she hinting that he should sleep in her bed or was she just confessing her feelings of sadness and of loneliness?

"Even though he cheated on me, lied to me, deceived me, and drank to an excess, he made me feel safely comforted when sleeping with me, holding me, hugging me, cuddling me, and when spooning me," she said. As if all of her answers were hidden in her wine, she continued staring at her glass of wine while remaining silent for a long minute. "More than that he was a good and generous lover," she said biting her lip as if embarrassed discussing sex with her son.

With his mother never opening up to him like this before, especially when it came to talking about sex, he was shocked that she was talking to him about her sex life now.