Mom & Son's Valentine's Day Sex Ch. 04

As if she was suddenly cold, she wrapped her hands around her wineglass as if it was a coffee mug or a mug of hot cocoa and she was sitting in a ski lodge. In the sexy way that she looked so sadly vulnerable, if she was any woman other than his mother, he'd take her in his arms, hold her, hug her, and comfort her. Wishing he could kiss her while touching and feeling her through her clothes, he suddenly had this urge to French kiss his mother in the way that he kissed her in his sexual fantasies.

He wondered what she'd do if he tried to really kiss her. He wondered what she'd say if he tried parting her lips with his tongue. He wondered what her reaction would be to him touching and feeling her through her clothes while French kissing her. Yet, not wanting to ruin things between them, more sexually enticing for him now, it was titillating fun to see up-skirt peeks of his mother's panties and down-blouse views of his mother's cleavage and bra.

"I don't miss Dad in the way that you do. With him always drunk and angry, he wasn't very nice to you or to me. I'm glad he's gone," said Michael for more than one reason.

Obviously, Michael wasn't just glad that his father was gone because he was always drunk, angry, and mean to him and his mother. He was glad that his father was gone because now he had his mother all to himself. In the way that his father deserted the love of a forty-two-year-old woman six-years-ago for the sexual infatuation of a young, eighteen-year-old whore, after more than twenty-years of marriage, not enough man for her, his father didn't deserve his mother.

"He was more than just my husband. Your father was my best friend, my lover, and my life," she said looking as if she was about to cry. "Difficult for me not to accept some of the blame for our divorce, he was a good man before he started drinking and cheating on me."

Michael looked at his mother aghast that she was blaming herself for her husband leaving her.

"I don't understand how you can blame yourself for Dad's drinking and screwing around," said Michael. "Obviously, his head was turned by a younger woman, a whore. His leaving you for her had nothing to do with you. You need to stop blaming yourself for his perversion and for his drunkenness," he said while thinking about his own incestuous perversion in wanting to have sex with his mother.

With her chin up as if she was suddenly proud of him, Kimberly smiled at her son.

"Thank you for understanding," said Kimberly. "Not very good for my self-confidence when the love of my life leaves me for a woman half my age, how could I compete with her? There was no way that I could. Moreover I didn't share his love for drinking. Yet, sadly and admittedly, I'm drinking more now than I ever did before, especially around the holidays but that's my cross to bear," she said lamenting her sadness while admitting her sudden fondness for French red, wine and Californian, white wine.

With him so physically dependent upon her, he wondered if his mother was feeling as emotional connected to him as he was now feeling emotionally connect to her. Now that Jessica was gone and he was home alone with his mother, he'd gladly chose his 48-year-old mother over his 24-year-old ex-girlfriend. A bizarre occurrence, it was odd that Jessica was sexually attracted to his father in the way that he was sexually attracted to his mother. Yet, had she not left him for his Dad, he may not have realized the incestuous lust that he felt for his mother.

"I'll always be here for you, Mother," said Michael.

She leaned forward in her seat on the couch and reached out her hand to take his hand.

"You may be my man now but you won't be here for me very long once some lucky woman makes you her man," she said pausing as if thinking better of what she was about to say. "Even though you're my man now, Valentine's Day isn't the same without a man in my bed."

'Wow,' he thought. 'I'm her man.'

He had never thought of it in that way before. He was her man now, his mother's man. Only, with him wishing he was the man in her bed, he couldn't help but to question the meaning of her remark. What did she mean by that? When she connected those two phrases together, you're my man and her needing a man in her bed, was there more to her saying that he was her man and that she needed a man in her bed? In addition to being her son, could he be her man, the man in her bed too? Unable to read her mind, he didn't know.

He imagined being in bed with his mother and his mother in bed with him. He imagined being in bed naked with his mother and his mother in bed naked with him. He imagined making out with his mother when they were both naked.

Whenever he masturbated over his mother, he thought of her in her white, sheer, bikini panties and her low-cut bra. He thought of her when wearing one of her short, sheer, and sexy, low-cut nightgowns. He thought of her topless before thinking of her naked. Whenever he thought of his naked mother, he thought of him naked with her too.

Touching and feeling her everywhere, he imagined having incestuous sex with his mother. He imagined licking and fingering her pussy and her sucking his cock. Sex, sex, and more sex, he imagined having sex with his naked mother. He imagined making love to his naked mother before fucking his naked mother. He imagined really pounding her pussy until she screamed his name in orgasmic pleasure. He imagined giving her multiple orgasms with his fingers, his tongue, and his cock.

'Michael! Michael! Oh, God Michael. Fuck me, Michael. Fuck me. Fuck me faster. Fuck me harder,' he imagined his mother as his lover. "Make me cum, Michael. Make me cum!"

* * * * *

Michael remembered how his father and mother continually fought and argued. The same redundantly looping argument every day, stopping at one place one day to continue the argument in the same place the next day, it was obvious to him that his father no longer loved his mother. It was obviously to him that his father had a woman on the side that he was seeing and screwing.

Not believing he'd be fucking someone his own age, he figured his father would be having sex with a much younger woman and he was right. His father couldn't find a woman more beautiful and who had a better body unless she was much younger. Just as his mother was surprised that he had been having sex with a woman half his age, Michael was surprised that his father had been having sex with his girlfriend, Jessica.

"In the way that he constantly and continually mistreated you, lied to you, and cheated on you, I can't understand why you still miss the man. He was a drunk and a pig for taking up with my ex-girlfriend, a woman young enough to be his daughter," he said which was what he hoped to do with his mother. Convoluted in logic, he hoped that his mother would not only take up with a man young enough to be her son but also a man who was her son. "That's disgusting. He's disgusting," said Michael. "You've wasted enough time and tears over him."

Finally, he hit a chord of reason. As if finally understanding that her ex-husband leaving her wasn't her fault, she looked relieved. As if finally understanding that her husband was a drunken, cheating asshole, she obviously needed to get over him. She needed to move on with her life. She needed to move on with him. She looked at her son to acknowledge what he said about his father with renewed insight. She looked at him with love and kindness in the way that he looked at her with lust and desire.

"You're right. I know you're right. For him to treat me like that, after all these years, was wrong, but it still hurts," she said with sadness. "I didn't deserve to be abused in the way that he abused me."

He looked at her wondering why she was here with him instead of attending some Valentine's Day, romantic dance at a nightclub while hoping to meet someone. Tempted to ask his mother out on the town, he imagined dancing with her and having a good, sexual time afterwards. Only, how would that look with him treating his mother as if she was his date? What if they saw someone they knew? Besides, until he found a good paying job, he didn't have any money to go anywhere and to do anything. He had already blown his budget in buying her Valentine's Day gifts.

"You need to go out more Mother," he said. Every time he called her mother, he thought of Norman Bates in the Bates Motel calling his mother, Norma, mother. It made his skin crawl to think that he was like Norman Bates but, in essence, no better than him, he was. "You need to meet someone. You need to forget about him and move on with your life," he said pausing while looking to see what reaction, if any, his words had on her.

Before looking up at him to answer him, she looked down at her nearly empty wineglass as if all her answers were there. Not wanting her to go without answers, he poured her more wine. Maybe if he got her drunk, she'd invite him to sleep with her. Maybe if he got her drunk, she'd have sex with him.

"I know you're right Michael but sometimes, especially when I'm feeling sad and lonely, my head and my heart go in opposite directions. Too preoccupied thinking about him, where he is and what he's doing, I'm not ready to have a relationship with another man, not just yet," she said. "Oddly and convolutedly enough, if I had sex with someone else, I'd feel that I was cheating on him."

She slowly shook her head while looking out the window behind him and he turned to look too.

"It's snowing," he said.

As if they had never seen snow before, they watched the snow silently fall.

"At least we'll have a white Valentine's Day," she said changing the subject with a smile. "I love freshly fallen snow. Maybe we can play in the snow and make snow angels and a snowman tomorrow."

As much as he'd love to play in the snow with his mother and roll around with her making snow angels, he refused to allow her to change the subject. As if she was his snow bunny and they were at a ski lodge, he'd love to kiss his mother in the snow. He'd love to strip her naked and have hot sex with her in the cold snow. Yet, he needed to break her out of her sadness. He needed to encourage her to go out and meet someone.

* * * * *

As if seeing her for the first time and in a new light of sadness and vulnerability, he looked at her as if seeing her more as a potential love match for some man instead of looking at her as his mother. Suddenly feeling jealous that she'd rather be with someone else than with him, he didn't want another man kissing and pawing his mother in the way that he wished he could kiss and paw his mother. In the way that she was so loyally faithful to her father, he didn't want her to be blinded by the love of another man. He'd rather keep her all for himself.

With him back living at home, now was his chance to make his move on his mother. In the way that she deliberately or inadvertently and continually flashed him her panties, cleavage, and bra, he sensed she was sexually interested in him as much as he was sexually interested in her. Adding more proof to his suspicions, she didn't immediately leave his bedroom when she caught him masturbating. Instead of leaving his room embarrassed, she stayed and stared at his exposed prick while sexually and excitedly touching herself. Instead of leaving his room, she fingered her nipple through her blouse and bra and moved her hand beneath her short skirt to finger her pussy inside her panties.

'As much as I still can't believe my mother stayed to watch me stroke myself and cum, I can't believe she was masturbating herself in my bedroom,' he thought and unable to forget.

He stared at her knowing that she'd be the perfect match for some man. With her prettier and sexier than most women her age, surely there were men who would rather be with her than to have sex with women half their age. Unlike other women who were beautiful and sexy, his mother wasn't high maintenance. She was kind and loving. Moreover, she was a good housekeeper and a great cook.

"Maybe you should try online dating," he said rethinking what he was about to say next but saying it anyway. "I can help you make your profile. I'll even take some sexy pictures of you to post," he said pushing his luck while hoping she'd agree to him photographing her in sexy, sexual poses.

As soon as he offered to take some sexy photos of his mother for her online dating profile, he was dizzy with incestuous desire for her. He couldn't help but think of her wearing one of her short, low-cut, sexy nightgowns with nothing underneath. Lighting up her sheer, nearly transparent nightgown with his camera flash to make it virtually see-through, he'd love to photograph his nearly naked mother for fodder when he masturbated over the thoughts of having sex with her again. Continuing his sexual fantasy, he imagined her standing before his camera again wearing only her panty and bra, being topless, or even naked.

Only, as soon as he mentioned helping her to make an online profile, she made a disapproving face. Then, as soon as he said that he'd take some sexy photos of her, she made another face before looking at him with a glimmer of sexual excitement. Maybe his mother was an exhibitionist after all. Maybe, she had been deliberately flashing him her panties in up-skirts and her bra and cleavage in down-blouses. In the way that he was a voyeur, he'd love for his mother to be an exhibitionist.

'That would be so hot to photograph her in a sexy nightgown. That would be so hot to photograph his mother in her panty and bra,' he thought. 'That would be so hot to have a photograph her in her sexy underwear. That would be so hot to photograph her topless and/or naked,' he thought while continuing his sexual fantasy of his mother and now needing to masturbate himself again.

As if she was a Playboy model hiding her nipples, dressed in just her panties, he imagined his mother removing her bra to cup her breasts with her hands while he took dozens of photos of her nearly topless body. Strictly for artistic purposes, of course, he wondered if she'd allow him to photograph her in the nude, face down on the couch, or on the rug. For artistic purposes only, of course, he'd love nothing more than shooting shots of his naked mother while she danced around a pole. They have a pole in the garage, a Lally column, but it would be too cold for her to strip herself naked out there.

Besides, nothing more than a sexual fantasy, she'd never allow him to take sexy, cheesecake, and nearly naked photos of her. She'd never strip naked or dance naked in front of him. Perhaps falling for those lines, that her photos were for artistic purposes and not sexual in nature, nonetheless, he imagined her allowing him to post photos of her in her bra and panties, topless, and/or naked. Yet, sexually frustrated again, nothing more than feeding his masturbating fodder for later, who was he kidding? She'd never allow him to take any sexy photos of her never mind allowing him to post any sexy photos of her online.

Yet, even though he wouldn't want a horde of men ogling his topless and/or naked mother, he'd love to see sexy photos of her. If he ever saw his mother in her bra and panties, topless, and/or naked, he didn't know if he could control himself from touching her and feeling her where no son should ever touch and feel his mother. If nothing else but for masturbation fodder, he'd love to have photos of his mother in all manner of undress on his computer. He'd love to show a select few of his friends what his mother looked like in her sexy nightgown, in her bra and panties, or topless and naked.

Having thought about installing a peephole camera in her master bedroom and master bathroom, he only thought of doing that when he was masturbating himself. Just as he'd never strip his drunken mother naked and have sex with her drunken body, he'd never spy on her with hidden cameras. Yet, it was sexually exciting to imagine doing those sexy things when he was pulling his prick with the thoughts of her in her sexy nightgown, her bra and panties, or topless and naked.

* * * * *

"Online dating?" She looked at him as if he was nuts, drunk, or both. "I'd never post my profile online with all those creepy and perverted men out there who'd contact me for sex. I'd never allow you to take sexy photos of me to post online," she made a sour face and a nervous laugh. "With me your mother and you my son, that would be wrong. That would be nasty. That would be incestuous," she said looking at him as if she was thinking about posing for him and asking his opinion rather than making a declarative statement.

He shrugged her his encouragement.

"Why not? It's just a photo, Mom. What's the big deal. You show more of your body when wearing your bikini," he said.

She sighed and rolled her eyes while making another sour face as if she had just bitten into something bitter.

"With all the invasive practices our government does with reading people's private e-mails, I'd never post my photos online to the cloud. Who knows who'd see them and/or steal them? Someone from my work, my church, or from the neighborhood may recognize me. I'd be so embarrassed for someone that I know to see something of me that they shouldn't see," she said putting her hand to her breast as if she was already topless.

If she dared allow him to post her profile along with her sexy photos, he imagined e-mailing his mother as if he was a man interested in dating her. If she dared allow him to post her profile along with sexy photos of herself, he imagined his mother sexually interested in his anonymous self. With them writing sexy and salaciously erotic correspondence back and forth, he wondered if he could persuade her to send him even sexier photos of herself. How hot would that be for his mother to fall for his anonymous self and send him photos of her in all manner of undress?

"Not every man out there is a creep and/or a pervert," he said with a laugh while knowing that he was an incestuous pervert when it came to wanting to see his mother in her bra and panties, topless, and/or naked.

Changing the subject again, this time moving the conversation from her to him, she looked at him in the way he had been looking at her. When she gave him a sexy smile and a naughty look, he wondered what she was thinking. He wondered if she was thinking of him posing for her as he hoped that she'd pose for him.

"What about you?"

'What about me,' he thought. 'I'm sexually attracted to my MILF of a mother. I masturbate over the thoughts of my mother naked. I masturbate over the thoughts of having incestuous sex with my mother. I want to kiss her, touch her, hold her, strip her naked, and have my wicked, incestuous, sexual way with her naked body,' he thought.

He looked at her with guilt for always trying to see something of his mother that he shouldn't see.

'I wonder if she asking me if I'm a creep or a pervert?'

If she was looking at him as if he was a creep or a pervert, indeed he was a pervert, an incestuous pervert, but he wasn't a creep. He was a kind, caring, and sensitive son, a son who loved his mother, an understatement. He looked at her with as much curiosity as he looked at her with confusion. He looked at her with sexual lust and incestuous passion. Hoping she didn't think of him as a creep or a pervert, he asked the question.

"What about me?"

Now, perhaps, as if she was imagining him posing for her, she looked at him in the same sexy way that he looked at her.

"You don't have anyone in your life either, Michael. Why don't you post an online profile to help you find someone to date?" She paused as if rethinking what she was about to say before saying it. Then, in the way that he said what he was thinking, she said what she was thinking too. "You write the profile and I'll take some sexy, beefcake photos of you in your underwear," she said with a sexy laugh.