Queen & Prince Together Forever #4

Yet, more than just the obvious sexual fantasy of having sex with her son, she wondered what else her dreams meant. More sexually exciting than they were disturbing, she wondered if she lived life before in another time and in another place. With her dreams so vividly real, an easy but not such a believable explanation, maybe she had a past life or several past lives before. Maybe she's immortal and with her never knowing where or when is scheduled to return to Earth from Heaven or from Hell every few hundred years.

She didn't dare see a psychiatrist, not even a female psychiatrist. In her line of work as one of the curators for the National Museum in Qatar, she feared whatever she told a doctor in private would certainly soon become public. Different from the United States where psychiatrist keep their patients conversations private, all that was needed for the government or her employer to get her medical records was for them to request them. As an ex-pat, and now a Qatari woman, if only her friends, co-workers, and her government knew that she harbored sexual thoughts for her son, she'd be ruined. Keeping their distance, no one would have anything to do with her. She'd be shunned, shamed, and scorned.

Being that she could never become a citizen of Qatar and with her not having relinquished her United States citizenship yet to become a citizen of another country, living in the Middle East was her life now. Living in a foreign land where women aren't still allowed to show their wrists and ankles in some public buildings, never mind their cleavage, if she was caught inappropriately dressed, she'd be arrested. Even if she wasn't having sex with him, if the local government of Qatar suspected that she was sexually lusting over her son, she'd be fired from her job. Then, after she paid all of her debts, she'd be immediately deported. The law of the land when it came to ex-Pats, temporary citizens who had no rights, she wouldn't be allowed to leave the country until she paid off all that she owed.

Moreover, even with her expertise in Islamic art and fluency in Arabic, she'd never get another job in the Middle East again. Calling her a pervert, a whore, and an incestuous slut, everyone would be talking about her behind her back. With the laws so strict and readily enforced in Qatar, especially for woman and especially for foreigners, she may even be imprisoned if what she fantasized doing sexually with her son came to light through the conversations she had with a mental health professional. Always careful what she said, what she did, who she talked to, and even what she thought, she didn't have the freedom that even a Qatari woman had and never mind the freedoms that Qatari men had. In most men's minds, even though she was beautiful, sexy, intelligent, and capable enough to hold an executive position in Qatar's National Oil Company, she was considered a nothing and a no one.

"Now that I'm out of school Mom," said Henry. "I'd like to get a job in a design firm. I always thought that architecture is my thing but now it's more design."

She looked at him as if she was looking at a God or perhaps the Devil himself. He was so handsome. For added emphasis on certain words or thoughts, she loved how he so passionately and so expressively talked while using his beautifully sculptured hands. As if he was an ambidextrous conductor of an orchestra, his hands were his dual batons. She wished he'd take her dancing so that she could show him off to envious women. She wished he'd kiss her in the way that no son should ever kiss his mother and no mother should ever submit her tongue to her son. She wished he'd touch her, feel her, and fondle her in the way that she imagined he touched, felt, and fondled women his own age.

Instead of having this inane conversation about him getting a job when she had plenty of money to support them both, she wished he'd talk suggestively to her about them having incestuous sex so that she could respond to him in kind by talking suggestively to him. Wicked in her sexual desire of him enough not to be embarrassed by the thought, she wondered what his cock looked like when he was sexually aroused. Just once, something more realistic to inspire her sexual fantasies, she'd love to watch him masturbate. Just once, something to give her fodder to masturbate herself over, she loved to watch him cum. Just once, something that she'd deem so wicked, she'd love for him to watch her masturbate. Just once, something that she'd feel was so sexually exciting, she'd love for him to see her have an orgasm.

Gobbling it up with great sexual lust, she'd lick ever drop of his cum from his beautiful body. Instead of cumming all over his hand or on his stomach, she'd invite him to cum in her mouth. She'd love nothing more than to suck him while stroking him as he explored her big breasts with his hands and fingered her nipples with his fingers. Going beyond what were appropriate thoughts between a mother and her son, she wondered if her son had a big cock. She could use a big cock right now but not just any big cock, only her son's big cock would do.

"What's the difference between architecture and design?"

She knew the obvious differences between architecture and design but she just wanted to hear him explain it. She just wanted to continue staring at him while watching his beautifully formed lips move before he disappeared for the evening with his friends. She fantasized about him while she talked. Acting as if she didn't realize that she was naked and that he awakened her from a sound sleep, she'd like nothing better than to greet him at the door naked when he came home a little tipsy and while she pretended that she was a little tipsy too.

Only, she wished that he'd sexually take her instead of her trying to sexually take him. If only he'd make the first move, she'd eagerly and readily submit to him. If only he'd make the first move, she'd freely and willingly make all of the next moves. For now, with him really here and not just a dream she was having, she just wanted him to stay with her a little while longer while she imagined him naked and making love to her.

She imagined his lips kissing her while his tongue explored her mouth and his hands explored her body. She imagined him tearing off her clothes as if they were on fire in the way that she's on fire for him. She imagined his hands touching, feeling, and fondling her D cup breasts. She imagined his fingers fingering her nipples and his lips sucking her nipples. As if he was praying to Allah, she imagined him falling in between her legs to pay homage from whence he emerged with his beautiful tongue licking her pussy before licking her asshole.

Not quite done with him yet, she imagined him taking her from behind and making love to her anally. Cumming in her ass, she imagined him pouring warm chocolate sauce in her anus and licking that along with a mixture of his own cum. A reoccurring sexual fantasy that she had from several hundred years ago, she imagined him giving her a baby and while the baby was emerging from her vagina, he was fucking her in the ass. How could she possibly think such things about her son but she was? How could she possibly have such disgusting albeit sexually exciting dreams about him but she did? Forsaking all other men, how could she want to have sex with her own son but she did?

"Architecture is mostly for buildings and structures but design encompasses everything, even architecture," he said.

To be continued...