Losing the House but Winning Mom 08

"I can understand that," said Michael hoping to keep her talking and while imagining sleeping with his mother.

With her sucking him, allowing him to cum in her mouth, and swallowing him, he remembered the good and generous lover that she was. With someone who looks like her in his bed, he'd be a good and generous lover too. Imagining holding her, hugging her, cuddling her, and spooning her while reaching over her to feel her big tits, his father was a fool to let her go for some young, bimbo. Now that she was confessing what she did with her husband, he couldn't help but imagine his parents having sex.

"Feeling his hand on me, holding me, hugging me, cuddling me, spooning me, touching me, and feeling me was comforting," she said wrapping her arms around herself as if her ex-husband or her son was holding her. "Tossing and turning, sadly, I haven't had a good night's sleep since he left and since we slept together on Halloween night," she said not looking at her son. "I'm so lonely Michael," she said again while finally making eye contact with him. Then, she blurted out again what he so wanted to hear and what he had been feeling for years. "I'm so horny. I'm so sexually frustrated."

He wondered why she was looking at him in a way that she never looked at him before. He wondered why she was confessing her sexual feelings to him. Did she want him to replace his father in the sexual way that he wanted to replace his father? Did she want to sleep with him again? Did she want to have sex with him again? Was her look an invitation or just a look? He wondered why they still weren't having sex. He wondered why she hasn't invited him to sleep with her in her bed and to have sex with her.

I'm so horny too, he wanted to say. I'm so sexually frustrated too, he wanted to say but, not wanting to ruin their moment of honest and open dialogue by diluting her sexual feelings with his sexual feelings, he didn't dare say what he was thinking and feeling. With their age as much of a negative as their mother and son relationship was, there was an uncomfortable silence between a forty-two-year-old mother and her twenty-two-year-old son. If their ages weren't a gap too wide to bridge, the fact that they were mother and son lusting over one another was the road not only to ruination but also to damnation.

Maybe just wishful thinking and/or a figment of his overactive, incestuously, sexual imagination but, because of all the up skirt and down blouse flashes, Michael couldn't help but to suspect that his mother was sometimes, deliberately flashing him. If nothing else, he liked thinking that she was. In the way that he always did when imagining flashing her and when she flashed him, he suspected that she received some titillating fun sexually teasing him by showing him her panty, cleavage, and bra. Sexual, sexy, seductive, flirtatious, and enticing teasing, he knew that she sometimes played him in the way that she always played his father to get whatever she wanted from him.

Only he didn't care that she sexually used him as long as he got what he wanted too, enough up skirts and down blouses for him to masturbate over later while imagining himself having sex with her. Whether she flashed him deliberately or inadvertently, he enjoyed her teasing him by thinking that she deliberately flashed him. He only wished he was still having sex with her. He hoped the sex they had wasn't just a onetime thing.

Michael watched his mother fidget with her wine glass as if she was rubbing off a water spot with her thumb. In the way that she was so focused on rubbing the glass, he couldn't help but imagine her running her finger over the head of his cock while rubbing him to an erection. Killing two birds with one stone, her loneliness and his horniness, he wondered how she'd take what he was about to say next. Only, how could he incestuously solicit his mother? What kind of son would sexually proposition his own mother?

Taking another sip of his wine, the two glasses of wine that he just had gave him the courage that he needed to blurt out his true feelings for her. She put her wine glass down to play with the hem of her skirt as if there was an imaginary spot there. With her feet on the floor and her knees close together as if cemented in place, when she lifted her skirt hem even just a little to nervously fidget with it, she rewarded him with a continual flash of her white panties. Did she know she was flashing him her panties? Was she aware that he could see a triangular patch of her panties over her shapely thighs? Then, catching him looking albeit with him unembarrassed that she caught him staring, she fluffed down her skirt and crossed her legs again.

It sexually excited him to see her white, bikini panties. He couldn't shake the image of him sleeping with his mother. He couldn't stop thinking about lying beside her while holding her, hugging her, cuddling her, and spooning her. He so wanted to have sex with his mother again. In the way that he was sexually and incestuously thinking about her, he wondered if she sexually and incestuously was thinking about him.

"I can sleep with you Mom," he said blurting it out while looking at her to watch her reaction to what he said.

Leaving his statement out there for her interpretation and comment, he wondered how she'd receive what he had just said sexually. He wondered what she'd say in return to his bold statement. As if she wasn't even in the room with him, there was no reaction just silence, that is, until his words finally penetrated her alcohol numbed and preoccupied brain. She looked at him as if she had just heard him. Moreover, she looked at him as if she was considering his offer to sleep with her.

As if on cue, she uncrossed her shapely legs and when she did, she turned more towards him and flashed him her panties again. Maybe it was the wine but never had she flashed him her panties as much as she had flashed him her panties tonight. Now with her knees parted just enough, she gave him a continual view between her legs. For sure, while imagining having sex with her, he'd be masturbating tonight over his mother flashing him her panties.

"Sleep with me? You'd sleep with me?" She looked at him as if she didn't know his meaning. "Now why would you want to sleep with your old mother?"

She looked at him with shock. Unable to conceal what she was thinking behind her sexy, naughty look, perhaps because of her wine consumption, she looked at him with sexual excitement. She looked at him in a way that he's never seen his mother look at him before. She looked at him in the way that he had always looked at her and was looking at her now. She looked at him in the way she was looking at him when she was standing before him naked in the motel room.

"I don't mean having sex with you, Mom. I mean just lying beside you as if we were resting instead of sleeping," he waited for her reaction before speaking again.

Bullshit. His whole intention of sleeping in the same bed with his mother was to have sex with her. Once he gained a foothold in her bedroom and had his body in her bed, he'd be touching her and feeling her where he touched and felt her nearly two months ago. Once he was allowed to sleep with her, he'd be having sex with her. The hard part was getting her to invite him in her bedroom and in her bed.

"I know what you meant," she said looking as if she was disappointed that he wasn't propositioning her for sex.

Now he wondered if he did proposition his mother to have sex with him, if she was lonely and horny enough to have sex with him. Why not? Even though they were mother and son, they were both human with wants, desires, and needs. Consenting adults, no one would know what went on behind her closed, bedroom door.

Just as he already had once, definitely, he'd do her again, if she asked him. Looking at him as if she was some woman he had just asked to go home with him, hopefully, he wondered if she was considering what he had just asked her. Not waiting for her to answer his question, he asked it again.

"Seriously, Mom, what if I slept with you?" As if he was speaking to his mother in his sexual fantasy and as if he was saying that he'd masturbate over her later while imagining himself sleeping with her, he persevered. "What if I held you, hugged you, cuddled you, and spooned you in the way that Dad used to do," he said using the same words that she used in the motel room. "Would that help you to get a good night's sleep?"

He imagined himself in bed with his mother. With his arm wrapped around her and his horny hand in contact with her abundant breasts, he imagined his naked cock pressed tightly against his mother's naked ass in the way it was in the motel room. Taking advantage of her by having his wicked, sexual way with her, he imagined touching her and feeling her shapely body through her thin, satin nightgown as soon as she fell asleep.

"Oh, Michael, you're such a good son. Too good to be true, I wish it was that simple but..."

As if changing her mind in midsentence, she paused and remained quiet for a long minute as if she was considering his proposition.

"Actually, yes, now that I think about it, that probably would help me to sleep better. In the way that I used to comfort you when you wanted to sleep in Mommy's bed, now you can comfort me by sleeping with me just until I fall asleep," she said unashamed.

With him sleeping with his mother, even for only an hour was his foot in the door. He could only imagine holding her, hugging her, cuddling her, spooning her, touching her, and feeling her again tonight in the way he did several weeks ago before.

"Wonderful," he said excited by the thought of sleeping with his mother.

Doing his best to hide his sexual excitement, he looked at her and gave her a warm smile.

"I'd like that very much," she said nodding her head as if she needed that extra bit of head movement to convince herself that it was okay to sleep in the same bed with her adult son. "You holding me, hugging me, cuddling me, and spooning me in the way that your father used to do would be just what I need to get a good night's sleep. It would help me to pretend that you were him," she said immodestly and immorally.

It would help me to pretend that you were him? Is that what she just said? What did she mean by that? Instead of being insulted by her remark, he was sexually aroused by her comment. Did she mean sex?

He wondered if his mother was thinking about having sex with him again in the way that he was thinking about having sex with her again. He wondered if his mother was just as horny for him as he was horny for her. Just the thought of him being in bed with his mother already gave his cock a hardening twitch. He couldn't wait to hold her, hug her, cuddle her, spoon her, and touch her, fell her, and dry hump her. He hoped she'd go to bed naked again instead of wearing a nightgown.

"Let me know when you're ready for bed and we'll go up together," he said.

He thought to himself, definitely, with his erection already making a proud appearance, he'll remove his underwear and just wear his thin pajama bottoms and a tee shirt to bed. The rogue elephant in the room and in the bed, he wondered if his mother would notice and/or would comment on his erection in the way she noticed and commented on his erection in the motel room than night. Maybe in the way that he was naked in the motel room, she'd expect him to be naked tonight. Even more important than what he was wearing or not wearing, he wondered what his mother would wear or not wear to bed. He hoped she wouldn't wear a flannel nightgown. He hoped she'd wear her short, low cut, black, sexy, slinky nightgown, the one she always packed when going away with his father. Or maybe she'd come to be naked.

"Actually, I'm ready for bed now," she said standing, yawning, and stretching. From his chair, he watched her blouse rise up to expose her flat stomach before rising higher to expose the bottom of her bra and the underside of her bra cups. "This wine is making me sleepy," she said pulling down her blouse before letting out another yawn and before carrying the wine glass out to the kitchen to dump the rest of the wine in the sink and to rinse the glass.

To be continued...

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