Mother Initiates Son to Manhood Ch. 01

He wondered what she'd do if he reached around behind her to feel, fondle, and squeeze her panty clad ass through her nightshirt in the way he's seen his father do so very many times. Would she allow him to have his sexy way with her ass or would she swat his hand away? With his mother having such a round, firm, sexy ass, as much as he'd love to feel her tits, he'd love to feel her ass too. What would he like to do for his birthday? He'd love to make out with his mother while feeling her bra clad breasts and panty clad ass through her nightshirt while French kissing her.

He wondered what she'd do if he grabbed her wrist and put her hand on his cock. He'd love nothing more than for her to feel his pajama clad erection. He wondered if she'd touch him in the way that he'd love for her to touch him. He wondered if she'd reach her hand inside his pajama and pull out his cock. If she did pull out his cock, he wondered if she'd stroke him. If she stroked him, he wondered if she'd fall to her knees to suck him before fucking him or would she slap his face and ask him to leave her house? He'd love nothing more than to look down at his mother looking up at him with her big green eyes and with his hard, hairy cock buried in her beautiful mouth.

"Happy Birthday Paul," he imagined his mother removing his cock from her mouth long enough to wish him a happy birthday as she blew him.

* * * * *

"I told you already what I wanted for my birthday," he said baiting her while staring at the sudden, even bigger impressions her nipples made though the thin, shiny material of her nightshirt.

Damn, she has such big nipples. If only she'd kiss him, really kiss him, French kiss him, he'd do anything to touch and feel her breasts while kissing her. He'd do anything to finger her nipples before sucking her nipples. He'd do anything to see her topless and/or naked. Imagining him on top of her with her legs spread, he'd do anything to have sex with his mother. He'd love nothing more than to screw his mother.

"You did?"

With a confused look on her face as if trying to recall what he had already ask her for his birthday, he watched her brush back her dark brown hair with a toss of her pretty hand and with her practice hand that always positioned every strand of her hair neatly in place. He recognized and realized her practiced move of fixing her hair whenever she was nervous. With him having to play this game of sexual seduction, he knew that she knew what he wanted for his birthday.

"Yes Mother, I did," he said.

She looked at him as if he was mistaken.

"You told me already what you wanted for your birthday? You did?"

Either she really didn't remember or she was so shocked by his birthday request that she put it out of her mind.

"Yes, mother, I told you," he said hiding his exasperation along with his sexual frustration.

Maybe this was his sign that she didn't sexually want him in the way that he sexually wanted her, he was disappointed that she didn't remember.

"I'm sorry, Paul, but I don't remember you telling me what you wanted to do on your birthday," she said. "Tell me again," she said flashing him her beautiful, big smile. "What would you like to do for your birthday?"

If reading her body language correctly, instead of folding her arms across her breasts to hide her hard, erect nipples, they were already casting their votes that they wanted him to not only finger them but also to suck them. Or misreading her again, maybe she was just cold. A more than subtle sign, she twirled her shoulder length, brown hair with her fingers while looking at him with what he hoped was sexual lust. Going for broke and with this his birthday, a day that she seldom denied him any special request that he made, he blurted out what he so wanted for his birthday.

"I want to make out with you," he said with a leering look and looking at her as if she was already naked.

As if making light of the situation and not taking her son seriously, she laughed uncomfortably. If only he said what he really wanted to say, I want to screw you, he wondered what she'd say to that.

"Make out with me?" She made an involuntary face as if she had eaten something bitter and bobbed back her head as if she was ducking a fly that dive bombed her face.

"Yes," he said. "That's what I'd like for my birthday, to make out with you."

Now or never, as if he was waiting for his winning numbers to be drawn on the lottery, he stared at his mother with all the pent up sexual excitement that he had for her.

"I thought you were joking," she said reaching her hand to close the top of her partially unbuttoned nightshirt while laughing nervously.

Seemingly acting so modest so as to not flash her son the tops of her breasts, her cleavage, and her bra again, if she was suddenly feeling embarrassed he'd think that she'd button her shirt instead of leaving it unbuttoned all the way down to the top of her bra.

"I wouldn't joke about something like that, something that I don't take lightly, my physical attraction to you," he said going for broke by saying how he truly felt about her.

He wanted to say sexual attraction but changed it to physical attraction at the last second.

"Why would an 18-year-old young man want to make out with a 44-year-old woman?"

She laughed a nervous little laugh. As if trying to read him to discern if he was serious or not, she looked at him looking at her. If someone was to take the ambient temperature of the room, it had just increased by ten degrees. Needless to say, they were both hot.

"Because older women are sexy. You're sexy. And with you being my mother, you're a MILF," he said wishing he hadn't said that as soon as he said it.

Shit! He wished he hadn't said that, called his mother a MILF. Hoping she'd ignore his misspoken word in the way she ignored him trying to French kiss her and in the way that she ignored his erection, he was embarrassed yet somehow relieved when she didn't.

"A MILF?" As if he was speaking a foreign language, she looked at him with confusion. "What's a MILF?"

Wanting to position her in front of her full length mirror, you're a MILF he wanted to say but didn't. You're a mother that I'd like to fuck he thought while thinking how to explain himself. You're my mother and I'd like to screw you, he so wanted to say. I'd love nothing more than to strip you naked, push you back on your bed, and pound your pussy on my birthday Mom.

"Um, MILF means, um, a mother that I'd like to fuck," he said feeling himself turning red.

As soon as he gave her the explanation, he watched her reaction to see what he could discern from her facial expressions and/or her body language. He imagined her on her knees and stroking his cock before sucking his cock. He imagined himself on top of her and making love to her. As soon as he gave her the explanation, he imagined her on top of him screwing him. With her breasts bouncing and swaying, he imagined reaching up to harness them as if his hands were her bra cups. He imagined spinning her around, raising her short nightshirt, pulling down her lacy panties, and taking her doggie style. He wondered what she sounded like when having sex when cumming. He wondered what she acted like when in the throes of making love.

"You'd like to fuck me?" She asked him the question as if inviting him to fuck her. "Is that it?"

Normally his mother doesn't use the word fuck. Generally she refers to sexual intercourse as making love, something that only a husband and wife does. If she uses any slang at all in regards to fucking, she'd use the word screwing. Yet, because the word he used was MILF, she altered her preferred word choice from screw to fuck.

As soon as she asked her question, her face turned red and he couldn't tell if she was sexually excited or angry with him. A subtle sign that she wanted him, he hoped, she wrapped her hair around her fingers again while looking at him looking at her. He watched her screwing her dark brown hair around her finger in the way that he'd love to screw her dark brown pussy. He wondered what she was thinking. With her nipples so big, so hard, and so erect, he wondered if she was sexually excited or just cold.

In the way he couldn't help himself from staring at her erect nipples, he caught her looking down at his erect cock again. If he was to hazard a guess, he'd guess his mother was just as horny as he was but the million dollar question was, did she want him as much as he wanted her? Hoping to find that out, he didn't know. There was only one way to know. He needed to pressure her for him to find out if she was just cold or horny.

"Yes, I mean, no, sorry. I didn't mean it that way. It's just a saying. It just slipped out and I'm sorry I said that," he said.

He felt embarrassed. He felt perverted. Only, he wasn't sorry he had said that. He wasn't sorry that he called his mother a MILF. If anything, she was a MILF. If anything, he was happy to get that out in the open that he wanted to not only fuck his mother but also he wanted to screw his mother after making love to her.

She laughed. Only, perhaps a mixture of both, he couldn't tell if her laugh was sexy or embarrassed. Was she laughing because she was happy or was she laughing because she was uncomfortable?

"Apology accepted," she said. "So, tell me, what do you really want to do for your birthday?"

To be continued...