Losing the House but Winning Mom 09

If only to sacrifice her comfort for her modesty, she kept her hand in front of her as if she was wearing a hospital gown backwards. With him wanting to see more quick peeks and furtive glances of her naked body, he wished it was suddenly windy in her bedroom. As if she was suddenly transported in time and she was Sally Fields as the Flying Nun, he'd love to see her wearing that nightgown while standing on a hilltop overlooking the ocean. As if she was an angel, his angel to ogle her naked, he'd loved to see her nightgown billowing open in the wind around her naked body. He so wanted to put on the overhead fan but it was a little cold in her bedroom already. He couldn't wait to get her beneath the covers and warm himself against her by cuddling with his mother.

"Oh," he said looking up over his head and pulling her to him by her arm to return her kiss with his.

No doubt her excuse to kiss him was now his excuse to kiss her. Other than her excuse to kiss him and his excuse to kiss her, he wondered why else his mother had put mistletoe over her bedroom door when they were the only ones in the house. If there was one thing he liked better than holding his mother was kissing his mother, French kissing his mother. If there was one thing he liked better than French kissing his mother was touching and feeling his mother, her tits, her pussy, and her ass. He couldn't wait to touch and feel her while kissing her. If there was one thing he liked better than touching and feeling his mother while kissing his mother was making love to his mother before fucking his mother.

When he surprised her by pulling her to him in that way, hoping for a view of her tits, the front of her nightgown opened again and he was rewarded with another quick view of her naked pussy before she put a hand there to close it again. After he kissed her, not wasting time with conversation in the way that he imagined she would, she climbed in bed, the side by the wall, and he got in on the other side. Quickly moving beneath the covers, they lay there like that in silence without talking and without holding, hugging, cuddling, and spooning one another. As if they were both virgin teenagers and as if this was the first time being in bed together, it was as if they were both afraid to make the first move.

When her nightgown billowed open from her climbing in bed and with her naked breasts exposed to him again, she raised the sheet to her shoulders to interrupt him ogling her. Always having wondered what it would be like to sleep with his mother before they slept together in the motel, he was wondering that again now. With them not being sexually intimate for nearly two months, reverting backwards sexually, he wondered what she was thinking. He wondered if she was sexually thinking about him in the way that he was sexually thinking about her.

He wondered if she was thinking about him in the same lustful, sexy, incestuous way that he was thinking about her. He wondered if she was just as sexually excited that she was in bed with him as he was sexually excited being in bed with her. He wondered if she was going to give him sex or if she just wanted him to hold her, hug her, cuddle her, and spoon her. Yet, if she wasn't going to give him sex, why would she wear such a revealing and sexy nightgown? Why would she make herself look so beautiful by fixing her hair, freshening her makeup, and putting on perfume?

"I'm tired," she said yawning again.

She turned to him to give him a goodnight kiss as if he was her husband of twenty-two years instead of her twenty-two-year-old son. As if she was an airbrushed movie star in bed on a sound stage, before turning off her bedside light but leaving on the nightlight, the nightlight glowed enough for him to see her pretty face. With their bedroom looking much like a movie set glowing with dim lights for the sake of the camera, just enough to see, he couldn't wait to see more of his nearly naked mother.

"Me too," he said returning her kiss with his kiss without touching her and or feeling her in the way that he so wanted to touch and feel her. "I can't wait to for you to see what I bought you for Christmas."

She gave him a loving smile that any mother would give her son.

"I'll find out soon enough," she said. "Good night Michael."

While waiting for her invitation in the way she invited him to hold her, hug her, cuddle her, spoon her, dry hump her, touch her, and feel her as she did in the motel room, he bided his time. Better that his mother make the first move, once she did, he'd make all of the other moves. He scooted his body closer to her but not close enough to touch her.

"Good night mom."

* * * * *

When she rolled on her side, his cue to hold her, hug her, cuddle her, and spoon her, he scooted over to her. With her nightgown having so much material, his body was on her nightgown and when she rolled on her side, her nightgown that remained beneath him opened wide. Peaking beneath the covers to see what he could see of her, the entire left side of his mother's body was exposed to his horny eyes. Her tit, her ass, and her pussy was there for him to ogle. It was then that he wished he had a flashlight or a watch that glowed brightly in the dark. He'd love to light up his mother's naked body enough for him to see more of her.

With the vision of his naked mother burnt in his head, he felt his cock growing stiffer. Not wanting to impale his mother's ass with his cock in the way he did at the motel, barely touching her, he didn't know what to do with his arm and with his hand. As if afraid to touch his nearly naked mother, he kept his arm to himself while allowing his hand to rest on his leg. Besides, afraid to touch her naked skin, not wanting her to close her nightgown, he didn't want her to know that she was so exposed.

Only, with her wearing that outrageously revealing nightgown, he suspected that she knew she was so exposed. Why else would she wear his particular nightgown other than to flash him? With it cold enough in her bedroom, cold enough to hang meat, she could have worn her flannel nightgown just as he could have worn more than a tee shirt, pajama bottoms, and underwear. He couldn't wait for his mother to keep him warm. He couldn't wait to keep his mother warm too.

"Michael," she said.

He loved her voice. He loved her smile. He loved her hair, her eyes, and her body. He loved everything about his mother. He loved his mother. He really, really loved his mother. Inappropriately wrong and incestuously forbidden, he loved his mother more than any son should love his mother.

"Yes Mom," he said popping up his head to see if he could see any more of his mother's body but she was already hidden beneath the covers.

He so wanted to hold her in the way that he held her in the motel. Only afraid of rushing things and ruining things, if not tonight, he'd have other chances to make his sexual move on his mother. He'd just bide his time. Maybe once she fell asleep and started snoring, he'd touch her. He'd feel her. He'd press his body up against her in the way he did on Halloween. Then, she said what he loved hearing her say.

"I'm not contagious. Don't be afraid to touch me and to hold me. I don't bite," she said with a nervous laugh. "I like it when you hold me and touch me."

'Oh, my God,' he thought. 'She wants me to hold her. She wants me to touch her. She likes it when I touch her? Touch her where? I wish she was more specific,' he thought. 'Does she want me to touch her arm, her hand, her leg or her ass, her pussy, and/or her tits?'

With her nightgown wide open, when he put his arm around her slim waist and pulled himself closer to her by holding onto her body, his hand was now inside of her nightgown. When he held her in that way, touching her bare skin, he was surprised to feel her naked, toned stomach. With the bottom of her heavy breast resting on his forearm, he so wanted to reach up to cup her big tit and finger her erect nipple. As excited feeling her naked stomach as he imagined he'd be feeling her naked breast, her naked ass, and/or her naked pussy, he couldn't believe he was touching and holding his mother in such a familiar, intimate way again. He couldn't believe he was holding and touching his mother in the way that he was holding and touching her before.

She made no move to close her nightgown, even though she, obviously now knew by the feel of his hand on her naked stomach that her nightgown was wide open. In the way she did at the motel, she surprised him with her immoral immodesty. Was his mother an exhibitionist? He didn't know. Was his mother a slut? He had no idea. Was his mother an incestuous whore? With him her perversely perverted son, he hoped to God she was.

With the bottom of her breasts resting on his forearm, his cock gradually hardened to full erection. So tempted, he so wanted to reach his hand up to touch her breasts, to feel her tits, and to finger her nipples. So tempted, he so wanted to reach his hand down to touch her pubic hair, rub her clit, and finger her pussy. Voluntarily, so as to not hump his mother's ass, not wanting her to know that he was sexually excited enough to have an erection, he backed away from her to allow only his thighs to come in contact with her and not his hips.

"You feel different than I thought you'd feel Mom," he said.

As if he was already inside of her, he could feel her breathing. Instead of sleeping, they were both wide awake.

"I do? What do you mean? How do I feel differently?"

As if reaching for something beneath his car seat, he slowly ran his hand down along her stomach and stopped when his fingertips touched the top of her trimmed, dark brown pubic hair. As if butting up against an electrified, barbed wire fence, afraid to touch her pubic hair in the way he was afraid to touch her pubic hair that first time, he left his fingers there. Seemingly her pubic hair was the incestuous imaginary line and the demarcation between what was appropriate touching and what was inappropriate groping between a mother and son.

In the way he did nearly two months ago, he couldn't believe he was touching his Mom's pubic hair with his fingertips again. He only wished he was touching her pubic hair with his tongue and/or with his cock instead of just with his fingers. With his hand so close to her sweet honeypot, he waited for her to swat his hand away and close her nightgown. He couldn't believe she allowed him to not only touch her in such a sexually incestuous way but also to allow him to leave his hand there so close to her pussy slit.

In the way he wondered if she was wet that night, he wondered if she was wet now. He wondered if she was as sexually aroused and wet as he was as sexually aroused and hard. Subtly and ever so slowly and delicately, he played with the top of her pubic hair as if he was touching her eyebrows. He wondered how far down she'd allow him to move his hand and his horny fingertips before stopping him. With her pussy slit and clit mere inches away from his long, horny fingers, he so wanted to continue moving his hand down, all the way down, to cup his mother's pussy before splitting her slit and rubbing her clit and finger fucking her cunt.

His mother's cunt. Just saying the words sexually excited him. In the way thinking that his mother was an incestuous whore sexually excited him, thinking about his mother's cunt sexually excited him. He'd love to do so much more to his mother's cunt than just playing with her pubic hair. He so wanted to masturbate her. He so wanted to finger her cunt, lick her cunt, and fuck her cunt in the way he did in the motel room. In the way he did Halloween night in the motel, he'd love to make love to his mother's cunt again before fucking his mother's cunt. A telling sign and evidence that she sexually wanted him as much as he sexually wanted her, he wondered again if she was as wet for him as he was hard for her.

"Maybe because I was so frightened to touch you and nervous about having sex with you that I didn't really think about what I was feeling when I was touching and feeling you then. You feel younger and firmer than I thought you'd feel," he said. "You have such a beautiful body Mom.

He wished he could feel more of her. He wished he could feel all of her. He wished he could feel her everywhere a son should never feel his mother.

"I exercise and I watch what I eat," she said with a laugh, "but thank you for the backhanded compliment."

If only he could confess how he truly felt about his mother, showering her with inappropriate compliments, he wondered what she'd say. He wondered what she'd do. He was in love with his mother in the way a young man is in love with a young woman. Yet, with the love and sexual passion he felt for his mother forbidden, maybe she would be uncomfortable with him gushing his feelings of love, sexual desire, and incestuous lust to her and in that inappropriate way.

Nonetheless it being wrong for him to be in bed with his mother while touching and feeling her naked body, the sexual pleasure he felt was much greater than the guilt he experienced in wanting to have sex with her. He didn't care that it was wrong to have sex with his mother. How could the love that he feels for his mother be wrong? It felt so right whenever he was with her. It felt so good to hold her and kiss her.

"Sorry, I didn't mean that in the way that it sounded Mom."

She laughed. He loved her laugh. She had such a musical laugh.

"Being that we're in bed together and with you playing with my pubic hair," she said with a laugh, "call me Jennifer instead of Mom. This is awkward enough for me to be in bed with my son, especially with you calling me Mom," she said with another laugh. "I'd rather we pretend that we're just man and woman, boyfriend and girlfriend, or husband and wife even, instead of mother and son. Let's just take this for what it is, one night at a time and a one night stand."

'One night stand? What did she mean by that? Is she going to give him sex again in the way she gave him sex on Halloween. He never knew with her. He was at her mercy and at her pleasure. She wasn't always so easy to read.'

She shocked him when she acknowledged that he was playing with her pubic hair. She shocked him when she didn't ask him to take his hand away. She shocked him when she said let's pretend that we're man and women, boyfriend and girlfriend, or husband and wife even, instead of mother and son. She shocked him when she said for him to take this for what it was...a one night stand.

Was she giving him permission to sexually touch her and incestuously feel her? He couldn't tell. Was she giving him permission to have sex with her? He didn't know. Was she giving him permission to do with her naked body what any man, boyfriend, or husband would do with his woman, girlfriend, or wife's naked body? He could only hope.

"Okay Jennifer," he said moving his fingers away from her pubic hair.

Not wanting to remove his hand from being in such close proximity to her pussy, he felt compelled to respect his mother by not groping her and/or taking sexual advantage of her.

"You needn't move your fingers Michael. That felt good what you were doing. Strangely familiar, you're father used to touch me in that relaxing way and do the same thing with his fingertips when in contact with my pubic hair when we were in bed together," she said taking his hand and putting it where it was before, only a little lower. "I like when you touch me in that way."

His mother likes it when he plays with her pubic hair. His mother likes being touched in the sexual way. Not a son who'd disappoint his mother, whatever she wanted him to do to her naked body was okay with him.

"Okay," he said.

He moved his hand back to her pubic hair only a little lower this time. Now instead of touching her pubic hair with just his fingertips, practically cupping her cunt, his whole horny hand was filled with his mother's dark brown, trimmed, pubic hair.

"I'm cold," she said. "Move closer to me to keep me warm Michael," she said pushing her buttocks against his already swollen cock. "Oh, you're wearing pajama bottoms," she said pausing before speaking again. "You're going to think me wicked and you're going to think less of me but take them off please. If you don't mind, I like feeling your naked cock pressed up against my naked ass."

'If I don't mind? Are you kidding me? Oh, my God,' he said to himself. 'She likes feeling my naked cock pressed up against her naked ass.'

"I don't think you're wicked," he said. "And I'd never think less of you just because you like feeling me up against you in the way that I like feeling you up against me," he said shocking himself by confessing that.

In the time it took him to say that, he removed his tee shirt, his pajama bottoms, and his underwear and was back and bed with his hard, naked prick pressed against his mother's naked ass. She moved closer to him. When she moved like that and pressed herself against him like that, his fingers moved with her. Now, instead of just feeling her pubic hair with his fingertips, he felt a whole handful of her pubic hair. With the palm of his hand resting on her pussy mound, his fingers were just above her pussy slit.

"Oh, Michael," she cooed, while pressing her naked ass against his naked cock. "You have an erection."

She wiggled her ass against him.

"Sorry Mom," he said but not sorry at all.

He dry humped his mother's naked ass.

"Sorry? Don't be sorry," she said pushing harder against him. "Be proud that you have such a big, hard cock."

When she moved like that and leaned forward like that in the fetal position, the bottom of her naked breasts rested on his forearm, his wrist, and the top of his hand. His cock hardened with the thoughts of touching her tits, feeling her tits, fondling her big tits, and fingering her erect nipples. He couldn't believe he was touching his mother's pussy again in the way he was touching her pussy before. With his mother resting her big breasts on his forearm, he couldn't believe he was touching her breasts, albeit with mostly his forearm instead of with his horny hand.

Without even touching and feeling her breasts with his upraised hand, he could feel the soft, firm, heaviness of her breasts on the back of his hand and arm. His Mom had big tits, at least a large C cup maybe even a small D cup. He couldn't believe he was so sexually aroused just by holding, hugging, cuddling, and spooning his mother while dry humping his mother. Just by him supporting her breasts with his arm and hand, he supported her big breasts as if his forearm was her under wire bra.

He didn't know if he could control himself from touching and feeling his mother where no son should ever touch and feel their mother. Unable to get enough of touching them, feeling them, fondling them, and fingering them, he'd love to feel her breasts and nipples again. He'd love to suck her big tits while fingering her hard nipples again. He'd love to dry hump his mother while feeling her big tits and fingering her erect nipples. Pressing himself harder against her, he moved closer to her while holding her, hugging her, cuddling her, spooning her, and dry humping her.

"How's that?"

As if moving his erect prick inside of her, he pushed himself closer to her and he felt his erection find a comfortable spot between her ass cheeks. He so wanted slide his hard, hairy cock in her warm, wet pussy. Imagining making love to his mother again, he imagined fucking his mother doggy style. Having experienced it only once before, he wondered what it would feel like to be inside of her again.

Right here and right now, he wondered what she'd do if he tried to have sex with her, to make love to her, and to fuck her. He wondered if she'd be submissive enough to allow him to have sex with her or if she'd be appalled enough to fight him while he aggressively and sexually took what he wanted and needed from her. Only why was she in bed with him naked and asked him to get naked too, if she didn't want to have sex with him? With her making all of the moves and with her being in sexual control of him, he needed to make his moves too. He needed to be in sexual control of her.