Mom, a Martyr for her Navy Seal Son

Story Info
Surrendering her body, Mom gives her son a Nude Day surprise.
22.2k words
4.05
103.4k
105
5
Share this Story

Font Size

Default Font Size

Font Spacing

Default Font Spacing

Font Face

Default Font Face

Reading Theme

Default Theme (White)
You need to Log In or Sign Up to have your customization saved in your Literotica profile.
PUBLIC BETA

Note: You can change font size, font face, and turn on dark mode by clicking the "A" icon tab in the Story Info Box.

You can temporarily switch back to a Classic Literotica® experience during our ongoing public Beta testing. Please consider leaving feedback on issues you experience or suggest improvements.

Click here

This is a Nude Day contest story. Please vote.

There are no underage characters in this story. All characters portrayed are over the age of 18.

*

Sexually sacrificing herself for his comfort, a loving mother gives her Navy Seal son a Nude Day surprise he'll never forget.

Tomorrow the big day, Christopher was being redeployed yet again and Julie couldn't sleep yet again. Wishing she could keep him home with her, she didn't want him to go, not again, not this time, and especially not now. Always close to her son and missing him terribly when he wasn't there, in the month he was home, she had grown accustomed to having him around.

Because of his life threatening injuries and his slow hospital recovery from his last redeployment that he somehow miraculously survived, she hoped that he'd be discharged from the Navy or, at the very least, permanently transferred to the local base. If only he'd apply for it, he could be given a job as a Navy Seal instructor and trainer. Only, just as they've always have done, not even giving him time enough to fully recover, to enjoy his stay at home, and to digest his redeployment assignment, his classified orders came through at the last minute.

Fearing something dreadful would happen to him, sick with fear and filled with anxiety, she worried herself to death. Tossing and turning every night before awakening from her sleep with cold sweats, she had the same reoccurring nightmare that she's had several times this month. She dreamt of him being killed in a firefight. She dreamt of him being blown to pieces by an IED. She dreamt of him being held prisoner and being beaten and tortured before being beheaded. She dreamt of him returning to her dead in a body bag and in a coffin draped by the American flag.

Their big prize capturing a real American war hero alive, a Navy Seal, with her not hearing anything from the Navy, either he was dead or captured and being held as a bargaining chip. If he was captured and still alive, hopefully they'd be negotiating his release. Only, knowing her government didn't negotiate with terrorists, she hoped that the Seals were planning a mission to rescue him. Only leave no man behind wasn't applicable to him when she feared that even their spies on the ground and the drones in the air couldn't find where Al-Qaida had hidden him.

With fear taking hold of her sanity, as if he was her husband or her boyfriend instead of her son, she dreamt crazy dreams filled with sexual images. Willingly allowing him to do whatever he wanted to do with her, if only to give him a memory of her and a reason for him to return home to her, she dreamt of standing naked in front of her son while in the kitchen. With her wanting to make her stand to take control of an impossible situation, where even as his mother she had no control, she wanted to do something out of the ordinary for him. She wanted to make what she feared would be his last visit, not only a special one but also a memorable one.

She knew what she needed to do but with her unable to cross the incestuous line, she didn't know if she could do it. With her knowing he'd be home any minute, she had no time for her indecision. If she didn't strip off her clothes, if she chickened out now, and if she didn't strip herself naked, she'd be filled with regret. As if she was about to take the sexual plunge by diving in the pool of incest, with her decision irreversible, just as she knew she'd regret her decision if she did strip naked, she'd regret not undressing if he didn't return.

Something as crazy as him going overseas again, she dreamt of purposely stripping off her clothes. With her standing before him naked, something she'd never do ordinarily but something that she considered doing under these extraordinary circumstances, she dreamt of offering her naked body to her son. With him always so stiff and so sore, he was always in pain. Even though he was in incredible physical condition, sometimes depending on the weather, he was filled with aches and pains from his injuries and wounds. Even though he was only 25-years-old, he already had the body of an old man, especially in the morning and late at night. Even though he was unable to sit or to stand too long, he was cleared for duty.

Something that she hoped would make him forget his pain, she dreamt of giving him pleasure. She dreamt of giving him sex, incestuous sex. Then, after masturbating herself to her dreams and lustful desires of having forbidden sex with son, Christopher, filled with remorse, she felt so guilty. She felt so dirty. She felt so wicked. Damn to burn in Hell for all of eternity for the incestuous thoughts that controlled her mind, she didn't know what to do.

Feeling so troubled and perplexed, she was obviously going through something that she didn't quite understand nor know how to handle. Obviously fearing the worst, she was acting out in her dreams in the only way she could by removing her clothes. Stripping herself naked and replacing her fear with sexual excitement was the only way that she could ease the pain she felt that something horrible was going to happen to her son. With her lurid past filled with sexual abuse by her husband and his friends, sex is the only way she knew how to extricate herself from difficult situations. Sex was her comfort zone. Only, this was her son not her husband and nor his friends that she was thinking about bedding.

With all of his other redeployments, never having inappropriate, incestuous, sexual dreams of her son before, this time was different. Perhaps because of him nearly dying from his last redeployment, with all of this so out of her motherly control, this time she felt that there was something seriously wrong. Willing to strip herself naked, she was willing to give her son sex to keep him safely at home with her. Yet she knew he'd never shirk from his sworn duty even for the opportunity of seeing her naked and/or having sex with her. As her way to ease her pain, wishing that she could be intimate with him, if only that one time, should he not return home, she wanted to leave him with a lasting memory of her during his last, dying moments.

Not wanting to let him go, she wished she could kidnap him and run off with him to Montana or France, somewhere they'd never find them. Unable to stop thinking so negatively about his mission, she feared the worst. Maybe it was nothing. Maybe she was just overreacting to the news of the Navy Seals who were recently killed in Afghanistan. Personally knowing some of them and their families, with all of them a close knit family, losing one of them was nearly as bad as losing her son.

Maybe it was just her overactive imagination. Maybe it was just a mother's paranoid intuition with fear making her delusional enough to make her want to strip herself naked and give her son sex. Maybe she was just being hysterical. Maybe she was needlessly worrying about something that would never happen. Yet, with her having vivid nightmares of his death in between her erotic, incestuous dreams of stripping herself naked and giving her son sex, she couldn't shake the feeling that this time Christopher wasn't coming home from yet another forced redeployment.

* * * * *

Playing Russian roulette with his life, how many chances can he take before he runs out of lucky breaks? Fearless in the face of death from the sea, the air, and over land, he was a frogman, a Navy Seal. Knowing that Christopher wasn't afraid to die and was ready to die for his buddies and/or for his country, only this time was different. This time, calling his bluff, for the first time since he's been redeployed, she knew he was concerned about dying and, if he was concerned about dying, then that worried her.

Sharing his concern, only going beyond how he obviously felt about his dangerous mission, just a nagging feeling, she feared that he was going to die. She feared he wouldn't be coming home. She feared that she'd never see him again. With him unable to tell her where he was going and what he was doing, she was left to imagine the worst in where he'd be going and what he'd be doing.

As if tiny pins that exploded a deadly vision, with her unable to stop the thoughts that flooded in her head, she feared that he wouldn't be returning home this time. She feared losing him forever. With no one there to help her through her premature sorrow, she feared being home alone with her sadness, her grief, and her misery. Always so secretive even about his prayers, before he retired to bed during his last night home, having heard him say this particular prayer before, she recorded him praying.

"Eternal Father, strong to save, whose arm hath bound the restless wave, who bidd'st the mighty ocean deep, its own appointed limits keep. Oh, hear us when we cry to Thee for those in peril on the sea!

O Christ! Whose voice the waters heard and hushed their raging at Thy word, who walkedst on the foaming deep, and calm amidst its rage didst sleep. Oh, hear us when we cry to Thee for those in peril on the sea!

Most Holy Spirit! Who didst brood upon the chaos dark and rude, and bid its angry tumult cease, and give, for wild confusion, peace. Oh, hear us when we cry to Thee for those in peril on the sea!

O Trinity of love and power! Our brethren shield in danger's hour, from rock and tempest, fire and foe, protect them wheresoever they go. Thus evermore shall rise to Thee glad hymns of praise from land and sea."

Never knowing that he prayed, a recent development with him rediscovering and embracing his religion and his Almighty God, his prayer made her worry that much more. Maybe the reason why he was praying was because he knew he was going to die this time. Especially after the brutality of his last redeployment with him being the lone survivor, certain that this was his last mission, she was terrified. How many times can they take him from her before he doesn't return? How many times must he go to some God forsaken desert with people shooting at him and trying to kill him before they hit their target?

Hasn't he done enough to serve his country and protect their citizens? Hasn't he done enough to help those people in a foreign land where he doesn't speak their language nor know their customs? These people don't even want him there. These people hate Americans. Yet, these people, willing to take our money, especially the Afghans and Pakistanis have their hands out for even more American foreign aid while trying to kill us in our sleep. Had it not been for a clan of Pakistanis' who put their lives in jeopardy, nursing him back to health while sending a message to the nearest base that he was there, he never would have made it home alive this time.

With a bad feeling in her head and heaviness in her heart, she couldn't help but think that she'd never see her son alive again. For the commitment he's made with all of the discipline and the training he's done, a year and a half of boot camp and another year of Seal training, all of his dedication and hard work is gone with one bullet to the head or to the heart. After the smoke clears in the big bang of an explosion that he never saw coming, in a blink of an eye of an IED, and with pieces of him scattered everywhere, he could be blown to bits and be dead. Hating to even harbor the thought, fearing the worst, in her heavy heart and in her troubled head, somehow, deep down inside, she knew that today would be the last day that she'd see him alive.

* * * * *

As soon as her son, Christopher, closed the door behind him to leave for his friend's house, waiting for him to leave while maintaining a strong front, Julie broke down. She stood in her kitchen crying in the way she did when her husband walked out the door so very long ago. Now crying for her son instead of for her husband, worried sick, she's been crying the entire time Christopher has been gone. The only time her tears of sorrow turned to tears of joy was when she picked him up at the airport.

Going from being so sorrowfully sad when he leaves to be so ecstatically happy when he returns, her emotions have been on a rollercoaster ride of ups and downs ever since he told her that he wanted to go for Navy Seal training. Navy Seal training? What is he crazy? What does he have a death wish? Oh, no, she forbad him to even join the Navy never mind to train to become a Navy Seal. Only, with his mind made up and with this his life and not her life, there was nothing that she could do to dissuade him.

Hoping he'd change his mind about wanting to be a Seal once he looked into it more, he didn't. Hoping he wouldn't be selected and hoping he'd washout if and when he was selected, she was just as sad as she was proud that her son was a Navy Seal. Knowing how determined and dedicated he is and how committed he'd be, she always feared that the Navy Seals would be the death of him. And now, with this last redeployment, her fears may come to fruition with his next redeployment.

Getting it all out, she didn't want to cry in front of her son. She didn't want him to see her like this, so weak, so vulnerable, and such a total wreck. She didn't want him to see her carrying on in the way that a mother tends to do when her son is being taken away from her yet again. She continued her brave image, just as her bumper stick reads on the rear bumper of her car, Mothers of Navy Seals Don't Cry. Holding back her tears until he left, so afraid and so fearful with all that may happen to him, if only for his sake, she tried to maintain her brave face.

"It's something that I must do," he said while watching the terrorist attack on the World Trade Towers back on 9/11/2001.

Barely twelve-years-old, he had already made up his mind and formulated his career choice to be in the military. Not wanting to take a backseat, wanting to get right in on the action, it wasn't until much later than he wanted to become a Navy Seal. Oh, my God, a puzzle box of raw, twisted emotions, with her patriotism pitted against the reality that she may lose her son, she was so proud of him and yet so afraid for him.

"It is what it is and there's nothing that I can do to change any of it," she said to comfort herself as if that was her personal mantra. "This is what he must do to live his life and this is what I need to do to endure and to survive mine should the worst happen. Just as this is his career choice, this is our destiny. Together we can survive anything," she said telling herself that as if praying and until she truly believed it. "He'll survive. With my prayers and with God's blessing, he'll survive. I know he will," she said telling her that until she believed it.

Yet, truth be told, if anyone should receive a Medal of Honor for above and beyond the call of duty, as his mother, she should receive a Medal of Honor for her bravery. When it came to sacrificing his safety over and again, and perhaps now, even with the life of her son, she was as much a part of the community of Navy Seals as he was. If anyone should receive an Academy Award while maintaining her brave face, she should receive the Oscar for not showing her real emotions in front of her son.

Not wanting to upset him, she needed him to leave home for battle with a clear and focused mind so that he'd return to her safe and sound. She didn't want him worrying about her over there when she's the one who should be doing all of the worrying at home. If he's distracted thinking of her at home worrying and panicking, one little mistake is all it would take for him to be killed in action and lost to her forever. A horrible thought to think of him dead, the thoughts of him being killed in action controlled her mind and took her heart hostage.

* * * * *

This was it. This was finally it. The day had finally come. He was leaving yet again. She couldn't believe it was already here. Recovering in the hospital for a month before returning home for a month, that month whizzed by too fast and now he was leaving again. She couldn't believe that today was the day. Feeling as if he had just arrived home from Somalia, Afghanistan, Iraq, from spy missions in Iran and Pakistan, or wherever the Hell they sent him with little or no notification of his call to duty orders, he was leaving yet again.

"Fuck!"

How much can they ask of one, young man? As if they owned him and they did, he's their beck and call kill or be killed slave of an assassin. Yet, how many times can the United States Navy redeploy him before he returns home to her without legs and/or without arms, missing in action, or dead and stuffed in a body bag? How many times must they take him away from her to put him in harm's way again and again?

With him already being shot three times and seriously injured five times with broken bones, contusions, burns, scars, stitches, and dislocations, how many times must he be shot and injured before he succumbs to his wounds and his injuries and dies? With all the injuries he's suffered, if he was an athlete, a baseball or football player, they'd put him on the disabled list and permanently take him out of the game. Only after a brief respite of R & R, relaxation and recovery, with those Navy doctors paying more attention to his body than to his mind, with Christopher assuring them that he was okay, he was good to go yet again.

For sure, in the way she felt now, the death of him would be the death of her too. He has enough medals to pin on his chest; there's no room on his uniform for any more. Weighed down with stripes, medals, decorations, and pins, when in his uniform, from his khaki brown to his service dress blues, to his service dress whites, with his choker collar and certified Navy twill, he already looks like a Navy Seal recruitment poster. He doesn't need any more medals nor does she want him to have any more medals if that one last medal meant the death of him and the ruination of her.

"Superman was the man of steel but he ain't no match for a Navy Seal," taking her in his strong arms to hug her, he'd console her saying what he truly believed whenever she seemed worried, which was all the time.

As if chanting while saying her rosary beads, his phrased leaked in her thoughts to interrupt her prayers and to temporarily soothe her sadness.

"Superman was the man of steel but he ain't no match for a Navy Seal."

Thinking he was invincible, he was so physically fit. With a sound mind and a sound body, he was so strong. He was so fearless. Knowing that he truly believed that Superman was no match for a Navy Seal, she knew that he had to believe that to safely get through what he needed to do. If he was anyone's Superman, he was her Superman. Only, even Superman could die with Kryptonite just as her son could die with a bullet, a knife wound, a bomb blast, in an underwater rescue, a helicopter crash, or a parachute jump.

Bigger than life, if she wasn't his mother, his biggest, supportive cheerleader, she'd think he was a boastful braggart who was full of himself but he wasn't a boastful braggart. Intensely quiet, dedicated, purposeful, and thoughtful, a man of many talents in how to kill someone, no one would see him coming until it was too late. Proud to be a Navy Seal, a little cog in a big chain and hopefully not the weakest link, especially when on a mission, she knew that he knew that he was just one member of a six man Seal team. Seal Team Six, brothers-in-arms, while watching one another's backs, just as he'd never leave them behind, he had the support of men who'd never leave him behind either. When he's home, she's run beside him enough times on the track with him to not only remember the lyrics of his cadence but to secretly record his voice, should he not return home.

"C-130 rolling down the strip, Navy Seals on a one way trip. Mission top secret, destination unknown, we don't even know if we're ever going home. Stand up, hook up, shuffle to the door, jump right out and count to four. If my main don't open wide, I've got my reserve by my side. If that one should fail me too, look out ground 'cause I'm coming through. If I die on that old, drop zone, box me up and ship me home. Pin my medals upon my chest, bury me in the leaning rest."