Mother & Son Have Oral Sex Ch. 02

There are no underage characters in this story. All characters portrayed are over 18-years-old. This story directly relates to my previous story, Mom's First, Blind, Internet Date.

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Mother & Son Have Oral Sex, Ch. 02

Except for his girlfriend's red hair, it occurred to Michael that Ginger looks like his mother Emma.

Continued from Chapter One:

"Well, it's time for bed," he said feigning a long stretch and a loud yawn when he had no intention of going to sleep. With his nightly routine the same as his morning routine, his late night and early morning routine was to masturbate himself while thinking of his mother naked and having sex with her. "It's late and I'm tired," he said yawning again.

She gave her son a warm, motherly smile and a loving hug. Holding her in his arms, he loved the feel of her and with her always smelling like honey and lemons, he loved the scent of her too. He so wanted to wrap his arm tighter around her and reach down to squeeze her terrycloth ass. Wishing she was wearing just her nightgown without her robe, when she hugged him goodnight, she squeezed her terrycloth, clad breasts against his hard body to kiss him on the cheek.

Tempted to do so, he so wanted to turn his head and kiss her on the mouth before parting her lips with his tongue, and while feeling her big tits and her shapely ass through her bathrobe and nightgown. He wondered what her reaction would be if he did that. A sexual fantasy come true that he had for years, he'd love to French kiss his mother while touching and feeling her everywhere. He'd love to surprise her by having his wicked, sexual way with his mother's naked body. Wishing he could strip her naked, only, he didn't dare. Not something a son should do to his mother, he couldn't. He wouldn't.

He wished he could get her drunk, only she didn't drink, not really and never that much for her to lose control. He thought about stirring a crushed sleeping pill in her tea. As soon as she fell asleep while watching the movie, he'd touch her and feel her where he always wanted to touch and feel his mother. Then, he'd slowly peel open her bathrobe to reveal her nightgown clad body to his horny eyes. Testing her to see if she'd awaken, he'd feel his mother's naked breasts, her panty clad ass, and her panty clothe pussy through her nightgown. With her still sleeping, he'd lift her nightgown to her neck to expose her naked breasts to his horny eyes.

'Oh, my God, if only I could strip her naked and touch and feel her naked body without her knowing, I would,' he thought while imagining his mother so nakedly vulnerable.

After staring at them first, he'd feel and fondle his mother's naked tits. Then while fingering her nipples, he'd suck her nipples. He'd remove her panties before spreading her legs wide to finger her pussy before licking her pussy. He'd put his erect cock in her hand before sticking his prick in her mouth and then in her pussy. Only, nothing more than a sexual fantasy for him to masturbate to, just as he'd never drug his mother, he'd never rape his mother either.

"Good night, Michael. Sweet dreams," said his mother.

With another movie night over, Michael closed his bedroom door. He climbed in bed while imagining he was climbing in his mother's bed. He stroked his cock while imagining it was his mother's hand masturbating him. While stroking his cock and thinking of his mother sleeping next door, he imagined being in bed naked with her. He imagined kissing his mother, French kissing her. He imagined feeling her tits and fingering her nipples through her nightgown before removing her nightgown. He imagined sucking her tits and reaching around her to feel her naked ass before fingering her wet pussy.

"Emma. Emma. Emma," he said whispering her name while stroking his cock. Four letters, two syllables with two consonants and two vowels, he loved her name. "Emma, Emma, Emma." He loved his mother. "I love you, Emma."

He only wished she was his girlfriend instead of his mother. He only wished he was in bed with his mother now. Stroking himself faster, he imagined making sweet, slow love to his mother. He imagined the feel of his hard cock in his mother's soft hand and before imagining his erect prick in his mother's wet mouth. He imagined the feel of his cock buried deep inside of her warm, wet pussy. He imagined her big tits in his horny hands and in his mouth.

Then, stroking himself faster, he imagined humping his mother's cunt harder and faster. He imagined fucking his mother, really fucking his mother. As he stroked his cock harder while imagining his mother naked and her large breasts bouncing up and down and swaying side to side, he imagined pounding his mother's pussy harder. Only, over too soon, while still horny and sexually frustrated, he exploded his cum in a tissue, turned off his light, and fell asleep while dreaming of his mother blowing him.

Maybe one day, she'd agree to allow him to see her naked. Maybe one day, she'd allow him to have sex with her naked body. Maybe one day, she'd want to see him naked too. Maybe one day, she'd want to have sex with his naked body too. Maybe one day, she'd stroke him while sucking him. Maybe one day she'd make love to him before fucking him. Obviously, but not giving up, today wasn't the day.

Chapter Two:

The love of his life, Ginger was Michael's steady girlfriend. Originally attracted to her because, other than the fact that she was tall, shapely, sexy, and beautiful with big tits, she looked nothing like his mother, Emma. Where most other women he dated were older, cougar clones of his mother, obviously, by having sex with 21-year-old Ginger, he abandoned his incestuous desire of vicariously having sex with his mother.

A first for him, whether consciously or subconsciously, sexually attracted to women who looked like his mother, before steadily dating Ginger, he went through a period of dating older women. Once his mother saw the women he dated, she'd know he was trying to find someone who looked like her. Ergo, embarrassed that he would immediately divulge his sexual attraction to his mother and that she would know that he incestuously wanted her, he never brought any cougar clones home to meet Mom. Obviously, in some convoluted way, having sex with older women who looked like his mother satisfied his curiosity of what his mother looked like naked and what it would feel like to have sex with her.

A good plan on the surface, having sex with older women who looked like his mother was his way to have incestuous sex with his mother without having incestuous sex with his mother. He had sex with his surrogate mothers without the sin, without the guilt, and without the remorse. By substituting his mother's image for the woman's image, when she stripped herself naked, imagining seeing his Mom naked, he imagined he was seeing his mother's naked tits, her naked ass, and her naked pussy. By substituting his mother's image for the woman's image, when he stripped himself naked, actually believing he was there with his mother, he imagined his mother was seeing his naked ass and cock.

When holding these older look-a-like women, he imagined holding and hugging his mother while staring lustfully in her brown eyes. He imagined kissing his mother, French kissing her, while feeling and fondling her big tits, and fingering and sucking her erect nipples. When he made love to them, replacing the women's name in his head for his mother's name, he imagined making love to his mother, Emma. When fucking his pretend mothers, the harder and faster he pounded their pussies, the more he pretended fucking his mother.

With these women having the same voice and laugh, not only did they look like his mother, some even sounded like his mother. When they had an orgasm, he'd imagine his mother having an orgasm. When they called his name in sexual passion, he imagined his mother calling his name in lustful desire.

'Michael. Michael. Oh, God, Michael. You're going to make me cum. Don't stop. Please don't stop,' he imagined his mother in the throes of passion while having a sexual orgasm.

Just as he imagined licking and fingering his mother's pussy and his mother cumming in his mouth, he imagined his mother stroking and sucking his cock and cumming in her mouth. When he looked in their eyes while making love to them and fucking them, he imagined making love and fucking his mother. Unable to remove his mother from his head and from his bed, Emma was always there with him in spirit when not in reality.

Only, it wasn't easy finding older women who looked enough like and sounded enough like his mother to trick himself in believing that he was actually having sex with his mother. Even if he found an older woman who looked and sounded like his mother, unless she was a cougar and a whore, it wasn't easy to persuade her to have sex with him. Moreover, in his convoluted way to replicate his mother by finding her sexual clone, no woman, no matter how much she looked like and sounded like his mother, was his mother.

Never quite the same, she wasn't his mother; she was someone else and someone else's mother. Always, no matter how much she looked like and sounded like his mother, she always fell short in one way or another. She wasn't his mother and he was crazy for imagining that she was. When they were having sex, there was always something she did or said that destroyed the illusion of his sexual fantasy. Unbeknownst to the women that he used to play the roles of his mother, if they knew that he was incestuously deranged enough to pretend that they were his mother, no doubt, they'd be pissed.

Absurdly thinking that he was fooling himself by not believing he was sexually attracted to his mother, he was not only sexually attracted to his mother but also he was in love with his mother. By the look-a-like and sound-a-like clone like women that he chose to date, in the way a son should never lust over his mother, it was obvious that he was sexually attracted to Emma. No doubt, without even having to think about it, if he could, he'd most definitely have sex with his mother.

Of course, most sons love their mothers but not in the way that Michael loved his mother. In the way that he loved his mother was not only wrong it was emotionally twisted. In the way he loved his mother was not only forbidden but also it was socially, morally, legally, ethically, and religiously unacceptable. For a son to love his mother in such a sexual way and for a son to hope to have an incestuous relationship with his mother was doomed for failure. Even if he could pull it off enough to believe that he was seeing his mother naked and having sex with her, the clone women was just substitutes for the woman he loved. He loved his mother.

If ever his friends and family knew that he wanted his mother in that sexual way, thinking there was something seriously wrong with him, he'd be an outcast. Secreted behind closed, bedroom doors, perhaps, his sexual attraction to his mother would be different if his mother shared his incestuous feelings for him too but she didn't. If she did sexually want him as much as he sexually wanted her, they could move somewhere no one knew them and start a new life as man and woman, boyfriend and girlfriend, or husband and wife. Only, making matters worse, if his mother was just as sexually attracted to him as he was sexually attracted to her, there'd be something mentally wrong with the both of them.

### MyMomChristinetheIncestWhore ###

'I love you, Mommy,' he imagined finally admitting to his mother but not in a loving way that a son loves his mother but in a sexual way that a man loves a woman.

He imagined quickly stripping off his clothes to expose his erect cock to his mother, to show her his naked body, and to finally reveal the incestuous lust that he had for her. He wondered what she'd do if he exposed himself to her by stripping off his clothes. He wondered if she'd look at his erect cock or look away. He wondered if she'd take him in her hand to touch him, feel him, and stroke him while kissing him in the way that no mother should kiss her son. Imagining her blowing him before fucking him, he wondered if she'd take him in her mouth to suck him.

'I love you, too, Michael,' he imagined his mother confessing to him.

As if giving him a sexy striptease show, he imagined his mother slowly stripping off her clothes. As if she was undressing for someone else, he imagined watching her unbutton her blouse to expose her bra and watching her unbutton and unzip her skirt to expose her panties. Posing for him in her sexy underwear, he imagined his mother turning one way before turning the other way and before reaching behind her to remove her bra. Then, tucking her fingers in her panties, he imagined watching his mother slide her panties down and off to show him her naked pussy and the rest of her naked body.

He imagined his mother exposing her naked tits, her naked pussy, and her naked ass to his incestuously, horny eyes. Touching her and feeling her, he imagined fondling his mother's naked body. Feeling her tits, fingering her nipples, rubbing her pussy, and squeezing her ass, he imagined doing everything to his naked mother that he had imagined doing in his sexual fantasies. He imagined pressing his hard cock against her soft belly and her pressing her big tits against his muscular chest. He imagined holding his naked mother in his arms and kissing her, French kissing her, while reaching his horny hand down to feel her naked ass.

He imagined touching and feeling his mother where a son should never touch and feel his mother. He imagined his mother touching and feeling him where a mother should never touch and feel her son. If only his mother sexually wanted him as much as he sexually wanted her, he'd be so happy. Alas, she doesn't sexually want him in the way that he sexually wants her. Nothing more than masturbation fodder, he'd never know what it would be like to not only see his mother naked but also to have sex with his naked mother.

### MyMomChristinetheIncestWhore ###

Actually, now that he thought more about it when comparing the two women, with his mother tall, shapely, sexy, and beautiful with big tits too, on the surface, she more resembled Ginger than not. Indeed, as if he had purposely set out to find another one of his mother's clones, Ginger looked much like a younger version of his mother. The only obvious differences between the two women, of course, was that his girlfriend had red hair, freckles, and blue eyes and his mother had dark, brown hair with brown eyes.

He couldn't think of any other obvious differences between the two women other than one was a redhead and the other a brunette. No doubt, if he put a red haired wig on his mother, gave her blue contacts, and penciled in some freckles on her face, she'd look like Ginger's mother. Conversely, if he put a brown haired wig on Ginger, used makeup to cover her freckles, and had her wear brown contacts, she'd look just like his mother and who he imagined his sister looking like if he had a sister.

As if he was subconsciously trying to replicate his mother with Ginger, they walked the same, talked the same, sounded the same, and even laughed the same. Obviously, the best of both worlds, having sex with Ginger was like having sex with his mother. Now that he thought more about it, when he closed his eyes, he didn't see his girlfriend, Ginger, he saw his mother, Emma. Now that he thought more about it, something he never admitted before, he didn't love Ginger. He loved his mother.

When he closed his eyes, he didn't hear Ginger talking and/or laughing, he heard his mother talking and/or laughing. Even without the red hair, the blue eyes, and the freckles, his mother looked more like Ginger than Ginger's mother looked like her daughter. Unable to admit it to himself, he was so sexually attracted to his mother that every woman he dated, including Ginger, looked like her and sounded like her, but all paled in comparison to her.

When he thought that Ginger looked nothing like his mother, in reality, she looked exactly like his mother. Ginger looked enough like his mother that she could have been his mother's daughter. Ginger could have been his younger sister. No doubt, in the way he sexually lusted over his mother, if Ginger was his sister, he'd be sexually lusting over her too.

'Oh, my God,' he thought. 'What in the Hell is wrong with me? I sexually want my mother so much that I can't stop myself from searching for and finding her clones,' he thought.

If he was to put all of the older, clone like women he dated in a room, the scene would look something from a remake Stanley Kubrick's Clockwork Orange movie. As if they were all in an insane asylum together and he was there with them all too, he imagined naked women who looked like his mother in a stark, white, rubber room. As if he was forced to remain in the House of Black and White to stare up at the wall of skinned faces of the dead from the Games of Thrones, he imagined the faces of all of the women he dated who looked like his mother. He imagined Andy Warhol painting a canvas of boxes to house the faces of all of the clone like women he dated that he sought to satisfy his incestuous need to have sex with is mother.

Even though Emma was 25-years-older than Ginger, his mother was still very beautiful, as beautiful for her mature age as Ginger was beautiful for her young age. When he started dating women as an 18-year-old and before he started dating Ginger exclusively, no doubt because of the sexual attraction he had for his Mom, he had a sexual thing for dating older women. Convolutely enough and a temporary band aid, he had a physical, emotional, and sexual attraction for women who looked like his mother. Fortunately for him, before falling in love with his surrogate mother, a woman around his mother's age, and having a disastrous love affair with his mother's clone, he fell in love with Ginger.

Unable to admit it even to himself, embarrassed and ashamed of the sexual attraction he had for his mother that he tried to hide, nonetheless, he replicated his incestuous feelings in the appearances of the women he dated. Over and again, with all of the women needing to have big tits, he was attracted to women who not only looked like his mother but also who walked, talked, laughed, and sounded like his mother. Whenever he had sex with women who looked like his mother, he reverted back to the incestuous, sexual fantasies that he had when masturbating over having sex with his naked mother.

With the women looking and sounding so much like his mother, something that sexually excited him, he couldn't help but imagine that he was having sex with his mom. Convolutedly, sadly, and sexually frustratingly for Michael but, whenever his hand was around his cock masturbating himself, he couldn't get his mother's naked image out of his head and out of his bed. If only Ginger knew that whenever he was having sex with her, he couldn't help but imagine that he was in bed having sex with his mother.

Unable to stop himself from doing so but while feeling Ginger's big tits, he thought of feeling his mother's big tits. While sucking Ginger's erect nipples, he thought of sucking his mother's erect nipples. While fingering Ginger's wet pussy, Michael imagined that he was fingering his mother's wet cunt. While fucking Ginger, he imagined he was fucking his mother. Too sexually excited fucking Ginger, enflamed by the thoughts that he was fucking his mother, oddly enough, he never made love to his girlfriend; he just fucked her.

Whenever Ginger stared at his cock and stroked his cock, he couldn't help but imagine his mother staring at his prick and stroking his prick. When Ginger blew him and allowed him to cum in her beautiful mouth, he couldn't help but imagine his mother sucking him and cumming in his mother's beautiful mouth. Where Ginger always blew him every time they were together, he seldom ate her. With the thoughts of having sex his mother consuming him, as if Ginger wasn't even there, he couldn't help himself from imagining that he was in bed with his mother.