Mom & Son's Valentine's Day Sex Ch. 05

Wishing she'd change her mind about him drawing her a bubble bath, he was hoping that she'd take him up on his offer. As if she was the naked woman getting in the tub in the first scene of Deadwood, he'd love to see the side of his mother's big, naked breast. As if she was an exotic dancer taking a bubble bath, he'd love to see his mother's naked body surrounded by and covered by soapy, bursting and popping bubbles.

He wished she'd take him up on his offer to give her not just a massage but also a full body, naked massage with a happy ending. Just as he'd love to see his mother without her clothes, he'd love to masturbate his mother. Just as he hoped that one thing may lead to another and they'd have sex, he'd love for his mother to give him a full body, naked massage, one with a happy ending. If nothing else, especially if nothing sexually happened, later this evening, he'd be masturbating over the imagined thoughts of giving his mother a bubble bath and a sexy, full body, naked massage, one with a happy ending.

'How hot would that be to bathe my mother? How hot would that be to massage her naked body? How hot would that be to masturbate her? How hot would that be for my mother to bathe me? How hot would that be for my mother to massage my naked body? How hot would that be for my mother to masturbate me,' he thought?

He looked at her with incestuous, lustful desire. Every time he looked at her, he imagined kissing her while feeling her through her clothes. Every time he was with her, he imagined stripping her naked. Once, he imagined her naked, he imagined having sex with her beautiful, naked body. He'd love to finger his mother while licking her pussy. He'd love to make love to her before fucking her. He wished she'd stroke his cock before sucking his cock.

"Well, being that this is your special holiday, if you think of anything that you'd like me to do for you, just name it," he said while hoping that she'd say that she wanted him to give her sex.

He gave his mother a loving smile before allowing his imagination to fill his incestuous mind with the naked images of his mother.

'Now that you mention it, Michael, I'd love for you to French kiss me while feeling my tits and fingering my nipples. If you don't mind, I'd love for you to lick my pussy while fingering my pussy. I'd love you to give me multiple orgasms with your fingers, your tongue, and your cock, Michael,' he imagined his mother saying.

He stared at his mother with his mouth open. If only she'd ask him to do those sexy, sexual things, he love to do those sexy, sexual things. Only, afraid to make the first incestuous move, he wished she'd make the first sexual move. Perhaps, she already had made the first sexual move. Perhaps, flashing him her panties in up-skirt peeks and her bra and cleavage in down-blouse views was her way of sexually teasing and erotically enticing him. Perhaps, she's waiting for him to make his incestuous move.

'Then, after you make me cum, may I stroke your cock while sucking your cock? I'd love for you to cum in my mouth and give me a cum bath in the way you ejaculated your cum all over your chest and stomach earlier today,' he imagined his mother saying all that he'd love to hear. 'I'd love for you to make love to me before fucking me,' he imagined her giving him her Valentine's Day, sexual requests.

He imagined making sweet, slow love to his mother before fucking his mother. He imagined pounding her pussy while bashing the top of her head against her headboard. He imagined his mother's big, naked breasts bouncing up and down and swaying side to side with his hard humps. He imagined his mother screaming his name in sexual passion. He imagined giving her an orgasm with his cock after he gave her an orgasm with his fingers and tongue.

'Fuck me, Michael. Fuck me. Pretend that I'm not your mother but your lover. Please fuck me. Fuck me faster and fuck me harder. Fuck your mother. Make me cum,' he imagined his mother begging him for sex. 'Oh, that's it. Right there. Don't stop. I'm going to cum. I'm going cum. You've giving me an orgasm. You're making your mother cum. God, you're such a good motherfucker,' he imagined her saying.

Only, no such luck. Nothing more than his dirty, incestuous mind working overtime on Valentine's Day, this day of love, romance, and sex, she wasn't like that. She wasn't incestuously perverted in the way that he was incestuously perverted. She'd never request any of those sexual things from him in the way that he'd love to request all those sexual things from her. Instead of naming what she'd like him to do for her, as if she was deep in troubled thought, she remained silent before speaking again.

He wondered what she was thinking. Like mother, like son, maybe she was thinking dirty, sexual thoughts of him in the way that he was thinking dirty, sexual thoughts of her. Maybe she was thinking about him fingering her, licking her, and fucking her pussy in the way that he was thinking about her stroking him, sucking him, and fucking his cock. Shaking him awake again and removing his sexual excitement with her sadness, she interrupted his sexual fantasy of having sex with her.

"Not even feeling that this is Valentine's Day, it's just another day to me now. I'm sorry. You've gone through a lot of trouble to make me feel better and to make me feel loved. I'm such a party pooper. I'll feel better in the morning when this holiday is over," she said with a shrug while giving him a look of sad dejection. "It's just that—," she said pausing again.

'Now that she had his attention, he wondered, it's just that...what?' With her not finishing her thought, he wondered what she was going to say. Instead of pressuring her to speak, he waited for her to continue while imagining all sorts of sexy things that she may say. 'It's just that I'm so sexually attracted to you. It's just that I want to have sex with you,' he imagined her saying. 'It's just that I need you to give me multiple sexual orgasms with your fingers, your tongue, and your cock,' he thought while wondering what his mother was about to say.

* * * * *

He watched her relax her knees and lean back in the soft comfort of the sofa to stare in her wineglass as if she could see her beloved ex-husband there. With the motion of her getting more comfortable on the couch, she mindlessly or deliberately parted her knees enough for him to see what he so wanted to see of her. She was flashing him her panties again. Was she unaware that she was inadvertently flashing him her panties or was she deliberately flashing him her panties again? He didn't know. He had no idea. He couldn't tell.

Whenever she leaned back like that in the soft couch her knees parted and she flashed him her panties. With her wearing such a short skirt, no matter how she sat, unless she kept her legs crossed, he could see her bright white, sheer, bikini panties. No matter how she sat, he could see her pussy slit, her camel toe, and the darker shadow of her blonde, trim, pubic hair that teased him through her panties. Such a sexually erotic sight to see, it was even more of an sexually exciting sight to see because she was his mother and not some stranger on a bus or a train.

Oxymoronically, she called him a good son. If only she knew that he was more of a bad son than he was a good son. With him ogling his mother panties whenever she sat back and ogled her cleavage and bra whenever she leaned forward, he was anything but a good son. If he was anything, he was an incestuously, perverted son. He was a son who always stared at, leered at, and ogled his mother to see whatever he could see of her. Continuously lusting over her sexually, he was a son who wanted to see his mother naked while having sex with her.

If only she knew what a good son he wasn't while he hoped to have an incestuous, sexual relationship with his mother, he wondered what she'd say. If only she knew what a good son he could be when having sex with her, he wondered what she'd do. If only she knew the sexual thoughts he always had of her naked while sucking and fucking him, he wondered what she'd think of him then.

What kind of son would she call him then if she knew that he wanted to have incestuous sex with her? Yet, now that she knows he lusts and masturbates over her while fantasizing having sex with her naked body, he didn't understand why she still thought of him as a good son. Perhaps, she lusts and masturbates over him too.

'Michael, I keep thinking of all those sexual things you said about me while masturbating yourself,' he imagined his mother saying while looking at him with shock. 'I'm sorry but do you really want to do all of those sexually incestuous things with me? Do you really want to have incestuous sex with me, your own mother? We can't have sex,' he imagined shaking her head as if she needed that extra bit of head movement to believe that they couldn't have sex. 'That's incest. That's wrong. That's nasty. That's illegal,' he imagined her scolding him while looking at him as if he was insane, and she'd be right. He was crazy for her and mad in love with her.

* * * * *

Unable to remove image from his mind, recalling it yet again while getting horny all over again, he thought about her barging in his room while he was masturbating. She saw his naked cock. His mother stared his erect prick. He couldn't believe his mother stared at his erect, naked dick. Why didn't she leave? He wished he had the nerve to ask her. He wished he had the nerve to barge in his mother's bedroom when she was dressing, undressing, or masturbating but he couldn't. He wished he had the nerve to walk in her bathroom while she was taking a shower, but he couldn't.

In the same way that he stared at his mother whenever she was inadvertently or deliberately flashing him up-skirt peeks of her panties and down-blouse views of her cleavage and bra, he couldn't believe his mother stared at his erection. He couldn't believe his mother watched him stroking himself and cumming. She heard him call her name. She heard him tell her all the incestuous, sexual things he wanted to do to her naked body. She now knows that he sexually wants her.

She stared at his erection in the way that he stared at her whenever she stood in front of the open refrigerator door in her sheer nightgown without a light on in the kitchen. She stared at his erection in the way that he stared at her whenever she stood in front of the TV in her sheer nightgown without a light on in the living room. She stared at his erection in the way that he stared at her whenever she opened the drapes in her sheer nightgown to allow in the bright, morning light that poured through her nightgown as if she was naked.

With the sunlight pouring in and passing through her thin, nightgown and illuminating her naked body in silhouette, he stared at her as if she was standing there naked. As if she walking through a TSA, X-ray machine, whenever she stood in front of the open refrigerator door, the backlight of the TV, or the bright sunlight from the bay window, he saw his mother through her flimsy nightgown as if she was naked. Whatever he saw of her that night or that morning, a never-ending cycle, he masturbated himself for days with the thoughts of having sex with his mother's naked body.

Yet, even more sexually exciting than her staring at his erection, as if mesmerized by him masturbating, she watched him stroke himself. She saw him cum. His mother saw him cum while telling her all that he wanted to do to her naked body. She watched him ejaculate all over himself in the way that he'd love to cum all over her. She heard him call her name in his sexual passion. She knows that he wants her. She knows that he wants to have incestuous sex with her.

While imagining having sex with his mother and cumming in her mouth, really believing that he was having sex with her, he forgot that he was masturbating himself. Until his mother entered his room, he forgot that he was masturbating over Kimberly until he felt his warm cum on his stomach and chest. While imagining having sex with her and giving her a cum bath, he forgot that he was masturbating instead of having sex with Kimberly until he heard his bedroom door squeak open.

In that moment, a telling sign and a sexual signal that she sexually wanted him as much as he sexually wanted her, she stared at him with sexual lust in the way that he stared at her with incestuous lust. In that moment, a telling sign and a sexual signal that she sexually wanted him as much as he sexually wanted her, she fingered her nipple through her blouse and bra. She had her horny hand beneath her skirt and tucked down inside her panties. She was masturbating herself while he masturbated himself.

* * * * *

While waiting for her to finish her thought, wishing he could read her mind, he wondered what she was thinking. In the way that she was focused on her wineglass, he wondered if she was sexually thinking about her ex-husband instead of sexually thinking about him in the way that he was incestuously thinking about her. In the way that he undressed her with his eyes while imagining her naked, he wondered if she ever undressed him with her eyes while imagining him naked. He wondered if she sexually and incestuously thought about him in the way that he was sexually and incestuously always thought about her.

Obviously, rather than thinking about him, her son, who was there with her now, instead of even looking at him, when she wasn't staring at her wineglass, she stared at the flames in the fireplace. Perhaps, she felt uncomfortable looking at him in the way he continued staring at her. Perhaps, she felt uncomfortable in the way that he was ogling her while hoping that she'd flash him her bright, white panties again. Perhaps, she felt uncomfortable looking at him after watching him stroke his cock and cumming while lusting over her. She knows he sexually wants her. She heard him call her name. She heard him say all the sexual things he wanted to do to her.

He wished she was sexually preoccupied with him in the way that she was sexually preoccupied with his father and in the way that he was always so sexually preoccupied with her. Gone, gone, gone, his father is gone for good and never returning. Good riddance. He still couldn't believe he dumped his MILF of a mother for Jessica, his whore of an ex-girlfriend. He couldn't believe his father would rather have a young, nothing of a woman instead of the complete woman that his mother was.

'Bye! Adieus! So long. See ya! Arrivederci! Don't let the door hit you in the ass. Just go. Leave! Beat it! Scram! Get out. Screw you,' he thought whenever thinking of his drunken, shit heel for a father.

If his father didn't think enough of her and care how she felt with him leaving her, why is she wasting her time thinking of him? Obviously guilty that he absconded with his ex-girlfriend, his father didn't even think enough of him to call him to tell him that he was leaving and why. Never saying goodbye, he left while he was an 18-year-old senior in high school. He didn't even attend his high school graduation nor his college graduation. No graduation cards, birthday cards, or Christmas gift, he acted as if he wasn't his father nor was he his son, even though he obvious was. He looked just like his father when he was his age.

* * * * *

"What mother? What were you going to say? You started to say something," he said returning his focused attention to his mother. "It's just that...what mother? You didn't finish your thought. Tell me," he said.

He stared at his mother's pretty face and her big, blue eyes before staring at the large impressions her bra clad breasts made in her low-cut blouse. Without doubt, she was wearing her D cup, padded bra today. Her breasts looked bigger than they normally looked. They looked huge. He'd love nothing more than to rest his head and his horny hands on her big, bra clad breasts while trying to find and finger her nipples through her ridiculously, padded bra.

Hoping she was thinking about something sexual, something incestuous, and something forbidden, he wondered what she was thinking. No doubt, she wasn't thinking what he was thinking. She wasn't sexually thinking of him in the way that he was sexually thinking of her. Obviously and unfortunately, she didn't sexually want him in the way that he sexually wanted her. Now that she caught him masturbating and cumming over the thoughts of her blowing him, having shown her his hand, she now knows that he sexually wanted her. She now knows that he masturbated over her while imagining having sex with her.

He looked at his mother as if she was the only woman in the world. In the way that he was so focused on her with his stare and with his thoughts, at that point in time, she was the only woman in the world. For years now, he didn't think of any other woman sexually in the way that he sexually thought of his mother. No matter which woman he was having sex with, he couldn't stop thinking of having sex with his mother. If only just once, he wished he could have sex with his mother.

"I know it sounds silly and I'm embarrassed confessing this to you, nothing more than the ramblings of a lonely, mature woman but, you're old enough to know such things," she said giving him an embarrassed, little smile.

She paused again as if rethinking was she was about to say.

"What Mother? I'm old enough to know what things?" He pressured her to tell him more. "Tell me."

With his sexual lust for his mother driving his imagination wild, he could only imagine what personal and private thoughts that she was embarrassed to confess. As if she was ashamed, she looked at him while biting her lip. She took another sip of her wine before emptying her wineglass seemingly for courage. Enabling her while hoping to get her a little drunk, ready to pour her a fourth glass of wine when she never had more than two glasses of wine, he was quick to pour her more wine.

With her drinking more than he had ever seen her drink before, her becoming drunk was seeming more of a reality. Only, he didn't want her to drink enough to become sick. He hoped she'd drink enough to fall asleep. The thought of his mother falling asleep drunk on the couch, him carrying her to bed, stripping her naked, and having his wicked, sexual, incestuous way with her naked body crossed his mind again.

"What I miss the most about your father is sleeping with him," she said biting her lip again while looking at her son. "I don't mean sex. 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, cuddling me, and spooning me," she said. "I miss the warmth of his body."

Instead of looking up at him, obviously uncomfortable over what she had just confessed, she continued staring at her wineglass while remaining silent for a long minute.

"I understand that you're lonely, Mother," he said. "Yet, just because you miss sleeping with him, doesn't erase all the bad, mean, and nasty things that he said and did to you."

Instead he wanted to say, I understand that you're horny and sexual frustrated but saying those inappropriately, sexual thoughts would not only make her feel uncomfortable but also would insult her sensibilities as a woman and as his mother. Moreover, if he dared say what he was thinking and feeling, he may turn her off instead of sexually arousing her. He may ruin his chance to have sex with his mother, not that he had any chance at of having incestuous sex with her. Yet, the last thing he wanted to do was to offend her before she had the chance to voice what else she was thinking.

"More than that," she said looking over at him while biting her lip yet again. "He was a good and generous lover," she said with uncomfortableness.