@-5

"What mother? What were you going to say? You started to say something. It's just that...what mother? You didn't finish your thought. Tell me."

Michael looked at his mother as if she was the only woman in the world and in the way that he was so focused on her with his stare and with his thoughts, at that point in time, she was.

"I know it sounds silly and I can't believe I'm telling you this but, with you now old enough to understand such things, what I miss the most about your father is sleeping with him," she said biting her lip while looking at her son.

With him only sleeping with her that one night, he knew what that empty feeling was not to have her in his bed every night. Instead of giving him a sexy look, she gave him a sad look. Was she hinting that he should sleep in her bed or was she just confessing her feelings of sadness and of loneliness?

"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, hugging me, cuddling me, and when spooning me," she said. As if all of her answers were hidden in her wine, she continued staring at her glass of wine while remaining silent for a long minute. "More than that he was a good and generous lover," she said biting her lip as if embarrassed discussing sex with her son.

With his mother never opening up to him like this before, especially when it came to talking about sex, he was shocked that she was talking to him about her sex life now.

"I can understand that," said Michael hoping to keep her talking and while imagining sleeping with his mother.

With her sucking him, allowing him to cum in her mouth, and swallowing him, he remembered the good and generous lover that she was. With someone who looks like her in his bed, he'd be a good and generous lover too. Imagining holding her, hugging her, cuddling her, and spooning her while reaching over her to feel her big tits, his father was a fool to let her go for some young, bimbo. Now that she was confessing what she did with her husband, he couldn't help but imagine his parents having sex.

"Feeling his hand on me, holding me, hugging me, cuddling me, spooning me, touching me, and feeling me was comforting," she said wrapping her arms around herself as if her ex-husband or her son was holding her. "Tossing and turning, sadly, I haven't had a good night's sleep since he left and since we slept together on Halloween night," she said not looking at her son. "I'm so lonely Michael," she said again while finally making eye contact with him. Then, she blurted out again what he so wanted to hear and what he had been feeling for years. "I'm so horny. I'm so sexually frustrated."

He wondered why she was looking at him in a way that she never looked at him before. He wondered why she was confessing her sexual feelings to him. Did she want him to replace his father in the sexual way that he wanted to replace his father? Did she want to sleep with him again? Did she want to have sex with him again? Was her look an invitation or just a look? He wondered why they still weren't having sex. He wondered why she hasn't invited him to sleep with her in her bed and to have sex with her.

I'm so horny too, he wanted to say. I'm so sexually frustrated too, he wanted to say but, not wanting to ruin their moment of honest and open dialogue by diluting her sexual feelings with his sexual feelings, he didn't dare say what he was thinking and feeling. With their age as much of a negative as their mother and son relationship was, there was an uncomfortable silence between a forty-two-year-old mother and her twenty-two-year-old son. If their ages weren't a gap too wide to bridge, the fact that they were mother and son lusting over one another was the road not only to ruination but also to damnation.

Maybe just wishful thinking and/or a figment of his overactive, incestuously, sexual imagination but, because of all the up skirt and down blouse flashes, Michael couldn't help but to suspect that his mother was sometimes, deliberately flashing him. If nothing else, he liked thinking that she was. In the way that he always did when imagining flashing her and when she flashed him, he suspected that she received some titillating fun sexually teasing him by showing him her panty, cleavage, and bra. Sexual, sexy, seductive, flirtatious, and enticing teasing, he knew that she sometimes played him in the way that she always played his father to get whatever she wanted from him.

Only he didn't care that she sexually used him as long as he got what he wanted too, enough up skirts and down blouses for him to masturbate over later while imagining himself having sex with her. Whether she flashed him deliberately or inadvertently, he enjoyed her teasing him by thinking that she deliberately flashed him. He only wished he was still having sex with her. He hoped the sex they had wasn't just a onetime thing.

Michael watched his mother fidget with her wine glass as if she was rubbing off a water spot with her thumb. In the way that she was so focused on rubbing the glass, he couldn't help but imagine her running her finger over the head of his cock while rubbing him to an erection. Killing two birds with one stone, her loneliness and his horniness, he wondered how she'd take what he was about to say next. Only, how could he incestuously solicit his mother? What kind of son would sexually proposition his own mother?

Taking another sip of his wine, the two glasses of wine that he just had gave him the courage that he needed to blurt out his true feelings for her. She put her wine glass down to play with the hem of her skirt as if there was an imaginary spot there. With her feet on the floor and her knees close together as if cemented in place, when she lifted her skirt hem even just a little to nervously fidget with it, she rewarded him with a continual flash of her white panties. Did she know she was flashing him her panties? Was she aware that he could see a triangular patch of her panties over her shapely thighs? Then, catching him looking albeit with him unembarrassed that she caught him staring, she fluffed down her skirt and crossed her legs again.

It sexually excited him to see her white, bikini panties. He couldn't shake the image of him sleeping with his mother. He couldn't stop thinking about lying beside her while holding her, hugging her, cuddling her, and spooning her. He so wanted to have sex with his mother again. In the way that he was sexually and incestuously thinking about her, he wondered if she sexually and incestuously was thinking about him.

"I can sleep with you Mom," he said blurting it out while looking at her to watch her reaction to what he said.

Leaving his statement out there for her interpretation and comment, he wondered how she'd receive what he had just said sexually. He wondered what she'd say in return to his bold statement. As if she wasn't even in the room with him, there was no reaction just silence, that is, until his words finally penetrated her alcohol numbed and preoccupied brain. She looked at him as if she had just heard him. Moreover, she looked at him as if she was considering his offer to sleep with her.

As if on cue, she uncrossed her shapely legs and when she did, she turned more towards him and flashed him her panties again. Maybe it was the wine but never had she flashed him her panties as much as she had flashed him her panties tonight. Now with her knees parted just enough, she gave him a continual view between her legs. For sure, while imagining having sex with her, he'd be masturbating tonight over his mother flashing him her panties.

"Sleep with me? You'd sleep with me?" She looked at him as if she didn't know his meaning. "Now why would you want to sleep with your old mother?"

She looked at him with shock. Unable to conceal what she was thinking behind her sexy, naughty look, perhaps because of her wine consumption, she looked at him with sexual excitement. She looked at him in a way that he's never seen his mother look at him before. She looked at him in the way that he had always looked at her and was looking at her now. She looked at him in the way she was looking at him when she was standing before him naked in the motel room.

"I don't mean having sex with you, Mom. I mean just lying beside you as if we were resting instead of sleeping," he waited for her reaction before speaking again.

Bullshit. His whole intention of sleeping in the same bed with his mother was to have sex with her. Once he gained a foothold in her bedroom and had his body in her bed, he'd be touching her and feeling her where he touched and felt her nearly two months ago. Once he was allowed to sleep with her, he'd be having sex with her. The hard part was getting her to invite him in her bedroom and in her bed.

"I know what you meant," she said looking as if she was disappointed that he wasn't propositioning her for sex.

Now he wondered if he did proposition his mother to have sex with him, if she was lonely and horny enough to have sex with him. Why not? Even though they were mother and son, they were both human with wants, desires, and needs. Consenting adults, no one would know what went on behind her closed, bedroom door.

Just as he already had once, definitely, he'd do her again, if she asked him. Looking at him as if she was some woman he had just asked to go home with him, hopefully, he wondered if she was considering what he had just asked her. Not waiting for her to answer his question, he asked it again.

"Seriously, Mom, what if I slept with you?" As if he was speaking to his mother in his sexual fantasy and as if he was saying that he'd masturbate over her later while imagining himself sleeping with her, he persevered. "What if I held you, hugged you, cuddled you, and spooned you in the way that Dad used to do," he said using the same words that she used in the motel room. "Would that help you to get a good night's sleep?"

He imagined himself in bed with his mother. With his arm wrapped around her and his horny hand in contact with her abundant breasts, he imagined his naked cock pressed tightly against his mother's naked ass in the way it was in the motel room. Taking advantage of her by having his wicked, sexual way with her, he imagined touching her and feeling her shapely body through her thin, satin nightgown as soon as she fell asleep.

"Oh, Michael, you're such a good son. Too good to be true, I wish it was that simple but..."

As if changing her mind in midsentence, she paused and remained quiet for a long minute as if she was considering his proposition.

"Actually, yes, now that I think about it, that probably would help me to sleep better. In the way that I used to comfort you when you wanted to sleep in Mommy's bed, now you can comfort me by sleeping with me just until I fall asleep," she said unashamed.

With him sleeping with his mother, even for only an hour was his foot in the door. He could only imagine holding her, hugging her, cuddling her, spooning her, touching her, and feeling her again tonight in the way he did several weeks ago before.

"Wonderful," he said excited by the thought of sleeping with his mother.

Doing his best to hide his sexual excitement, he looked at her and gave her a warm smile.

"I'd like that very much," she said nodding her head as if she needed that extra bit of head movement to convince herself that it was okay to sleep in the same bed with her adult son. "You holding me, hugging me, cuddling me, and spooning me in the way that your father used to do would be just what I need to get a good night's sleep. It would help me to pretend that you were him," she said immodestly and immorally.

It would help me to pretend that you were him? Is that what she just said? What did she mean by that? Instead of being insulted by her remark, he was sexually aroused by her comment. Did she mean sex?

He wondered if his mother was thinking about having sex with him again in the way that he was thinking about having sex with her again. He wondered if his mother was just as horny for him as he was horny for her. Just the thought of him being in bed with his mother already gave his cock a hardening twitch. He couldn't wait to hold her, hug her, cuddle her, spoon her, and touch her, fell her, and dry hump her. He hoped she'd go to bed naked again instead of wearing a nightgown.

"Let me know when you're ready for bed and we'll go up together," he said.

He thought to himself, definitely, with his erection already making a proud appearance, he'll remove his underwear and just wear his thin pajama bottoms and a tee shirt to bed. The rogue elephant in the room and in the bed, he wondered if his mother would notice and/or would comment on his erection in the way she noticed and commented on his erection in the motel room than night. Maybe in the way that he was naked in the motel room, she'd expect him to be naked tonight. Even more important than what he was wearing or not wearing, he wondered what his mother would wear or not wear to bed. He hoped she wouldn't wear a flannel nightgown. He hoped she'd wear her short, low cut, black, sexy, slinky nightgown, the one she always packed when going away with his father. Or maybe she'd come to be naked.

"Actually, I'm ready for bed now," she said standing, yawning, and stretching. From his chair, he watched her blouse rise up to expose her flat stomach before rising higher to expose the bottom of her bra and the underside of her bra cups. "This wine is making me sleepy," she said pulling down her blouse before letting out another yawn and before carrying the wine glass out to the kitchen to dump the rest of the wine in the sink and to rinse the glass.

*

Mother and son rekindle their incestuous feelings by having sex on Christmas.

Jennifer readied herself for bed while her son used the guest bathroom. He hadn't used this bathroom yet and wanted to know what it was like to use this bathroom compared to his bathroom. Obviously feeling sexy or horny, as the case may be, perhaps from the wine consumption or perhaps because her son volunteered to sleep with her, Jennifer put on her sheerest, shortest, and sexiest nightgown.

With him already long gone but with him seemingly always on her mind, especially around the holidays, it was a nightgown that she never got to wear for her husband. Still in the box, she chose this particular nightgown to wear for Michael because it opened in front as if it was a sarong or a full body kilt without the big pin keeping it closed where it needed to be kept closed. Depending on who she was wearing the nightgown for, her boyfriend, her husband, her lover or, in this case, her son, the nightgown was deemed sexy or even obscene by all that it showed of her naked body. Being that she was wearing this nightgown for Michael, indeed it was obscene that a mother would show so very much of her naked body to her son.

Obviously with this nightgown and with her ready to show Michael so very much of her shapely, sexy, naked body, she was ready for sex. She was ready to sexually tease him and incestuously entice him before giving him sex. Seemingly, she enjoyed the foreplay, the flashing, the teasing, the holding, the hugging, the cuddling, the spooning, the touching, the feeling, the fondling, and the kissing as much as she enjoyed the actual sex. Yet, in the way that they had a difficult time crossing the imaginary line of incest before, as if this was the first time that mother and son were about to be sexually intimate, that same imaginary line of incest reappeared again now.

It was one thing to have incestuous sex in a motel room in California, but not here, not in this house, their new home. Perhaps putting a curse on the house, having incestuous sex here would defile the house. It was one thing to have incestuous sex because they felt so sad after losing their house, but now that he's so happy in his new life and she should be happy too, one would think that incestuous sex was off the table. After being given a million dollars to buy this house and all of the furnishings, his truck, her car, and their clothes, what's their excuse to have sex now?

This is their new life. As if weighing themselves down with the past, why drag their old life back in their new life to ruin that life too? Thinking that they'd learn from their mistakes, and with a mother having sex with her son the biggest mistake of all, why repeat the mistakes they made before all over again now? How dare they fall back on their old habits when this is their chance to start all over again without having the shame and the guilt of incest ruining everything?

A one-time thing that they now needed to forget, if they never have incestuous sex again, they've a better chance of putting their forbidden, sexual past behind them. If they never have incestuous sex again, they could concentrate on finding someone, a man for her and a woman for him. If they never have incestuous sex again, they could get on with their life as if having sex with one another never happened. Indeed, if they never have incestuous sex again, they could pretend that what sexually happened between them that Halloween night never happened.

* * * * *

With only one button at the neck holding her shamelessly sexy nightgown closed, her beyond naughty nightgown looked like an oversized, wrap around cape with two big holes for her arms and one for her neck. Having only worn this nightgown once to bed, she choose to wear this nightgown again now. Obviously because of how sexy she looked wearing this negligee, she was eager to wear this nightie again now.

The last time she wore this nightgown, because it was so sheer and showed everything, when she looked at herself in the mirror, she felt so sexy. She felt so wicked. She felt like a whore. On the flipside of that coin, the last time she wore this nightgown, realizing her reality of not having a man in her life, the nightgown made her feel sad and sexually frustrated. The last time she wore this nightgown, she masturbated herself while thinking of a man touching her, feeling her, kissing her, making love to her, and fucking her. Obvious now ready to make her sexual fantasy her sexual reality, the last time she wore this nightgown, she thought of having forbidden sex with her son.

After she wore this negligee just once and after she masturbated herself while wearing the nightgown, she returned the nightie to the box to never wear it again. Now, obviously eager to wear this particular nightgown again, no doubt it had been a long time since she felt sexy enough to wear it. Obviously, by wearing this nightgown tonight, she wanted Michael to see her in this particular nightgown. With the nightgown making a statement without words, clearly showing her breasts, her pussy, and her ass, the nightgown screamed sex. Obviously eager to wear it again, perhaps because the unbuttoned opening gave her son free access to her naked body, she wanted him to touch her and feel her while making love to her and before fucking her.

* * * * *

Ready to sleep with his mother again, ready to hold her, hug her, cuddle her, spoon her, and hopefully even dry hump her, as if he was room service and they were at a swank hotel, Michael lightly knocked on her bedroom door. Filled with the anticipation of having sex with his mother again, he couldn't wait to touch her and to feel her while kissing her. He wondered if she'd allow him to make love to her again. He wondered if she'd allow to fuck her again. He wondered if she'd suck his cock and allow him to cum in her mouth again.

Only, instead of having sex, maybe she just wanted him to hold her, hug her, cuddle her, and spoon her while she slept. Yet, if that's all that she wanted to do, better than sleeping alone in his own bed and masturbating himself, he'd rather be in bed with his mother. He'd rather be sleeping next to her to feel her warmth and to feel her breathing. Maybe she'd allow him to sleep in her bed every night. Perhaps, after a while, catching her at a weak and vulnerable moment, with him already there in bed with her, she'd have sex with him again.

"Mom? Are you decent?"

Decent? Such an oxymoronic word when describing his mother? What does decent even mean when a mother is practically naked behind her bedroom door after inviting her son to sleep with her? Even if she was decently dressed, that still wouldn't make her decent.

Just as there was nothing decent about him with him already having an erection with the thoughts of bedding his mother, there was nothing decent about her. There was nothing decent about incest. Incest was wrong. Incest was nasty. Incest between a mother and her son was the worst kind of incest.

How dare she? How dare he? How dare they? What's wrong with them to want to have sex with one another? If only they knew there was nothing decent about incestuous sex. If only he knew there was nothing decent about his mother.

After they had sex the first time and once they had sex again, he'd forever be deemed perversely perverted for having sex with his mother and she'd forever be deemed an incestuous whore for having sex with her son. Whatever love and affection they felt for one another, in the eyes of the world's opinion, him having sex with his mother makes him a pervert and her having sex with her son makes her a whore. What does decent mean when a mother invited her son to sleep with her in her bed? Just as he wasn't decent to want to sleep with his mother, she wasn't decent to want to sleep with her son. How dare they even use the word decent in regards to their forbidden, incestuous affair? Decency was oxymoronic to incest.

With his mind reeling with the sexual anticipation of sleeping in the same bed with his mother again, morals aside he hoped she wasn't decently dressed. No need to worry about her being morally decent and modestly shy, when she stripped off her clothes in that motel room and stood before him naked, she had already shown him that she was indecently immoral and immodestly wicked. Not one to disappoint her son in the way that her son would never disappoint his mother, once they crossed that line of incest, with decency pushed aside for incest, neither of them would ever be decent again.

With incestuous thoughts on his mind, the last thing he wanted his mother to be was decent. He needed her to be indecently naked again. He'd rather his mother be an incestuous whore in the way she was in that motel room. In the way she willingly stripped herself naked and was immorally and immodestly standing before him naked in the motel room, he hoped she was standing naked behind her bedroom door in her bedroom. He hoped she'd sleep in the nude again in the way she did at the motel. He hoped that she'd open her bedroom door naked and insist that he'd be naked too.

* * * * *

"Come in Michael," she said in her sweet voice.

As if she was a spider and he was her a fly, seemingly she was ready to entangle him in her web of incest. Seemingly if judging her by how she was dressed or wasn't dressed to receive her son, hopefully she was ready to suck him dry. As soon as he opened her bedroom door and walked inside her bedroom, she got up from the dressing table and when she stood her nightgown caught itself on the dressing table drawer. Already flashing her son her naked body from her breasts down to her pussy, her nightgown was wide open for an instant before she quickly pulled it from the drawer and closed her nightgown. He wondered if she was flashing him deliberately or by accident.

Yet, with her sudden flash happening so fast, too fast, he didn't have time to react in his stare to see anything other than knowing that she's naked beneath her nightgown. Too busy looking to see how much he could see of his mother's naked body through the sheer, sexy material of her nightgown, he didn't have time to notice her nakedness when her negligee parted open. At first when he saw that she was wearing a dressing gown, he was disappointed that she wasn't naked. Yet, this flimsy, nearly see-through nightgown that opened all the way down at the front was the next, best thing to her being naked. With her every movement, he saw a quick flash of her breasts and/or pussy. This nightgown was beyond sexy.

She walked over to him to wrap her arms around his neck and to give him a kiss on the lips. With so much incestuous lust and sexual passion in her kiss, when she kissed him, he so wanted to slip her his tongue and French kiss her while sliding a slow hand down to feel and squeeze her practically naked ass. When she kissed him, he wanted to wrap his arms around her waist and pull her closer and impale her with his erection through his pajama bottoms. When she kissed him, he wanted to feel her big breasts while fingering her erect nipples. When she kissed him, he wanted to move a hand between her legs and insert his finger in her pussy to feel if she was as wet as he was hard. When she kissed him, he wanted to push her back on her bed, spread her legs, and bury his face in her pussy to lick her long enough to give her an orgasm before making love to her and before fucking her.

"Wow! What's that for?"

Surprised that his mother kissed him on his lips, after she had been so cool and standoffish sexually to him the last several weeks, he looked at her looking at him. He so wanted to slip his mother his tongue and French kiss her but he didn't dare. This was his mother after all and not some barroom slut who brought him back to her apartment for a booty call and one-time sex. Besides he didn't want to ruin things by rushing things. Rather taking it slow, hoping for a replay of Halloween night in the motel, whatever happens will happen once he was in bed with her. A big step and a giant leap, this was the first time he was in her bedroom when she was wearing her nightgown and what a sexy nightgown it was.

Her nightgown was so beautiful and she looked so sexy wearing it. So sheer and so sexy, now that she was standing next to him in the bright light of her bedroom, he could see that she was naked beneath the practically see-through material. As if he was a spy noticing every detail of her shapely naked body, giving him a peek-a-boo shot of what lay beneath the flimsy material, he couldn't help but notice that her nightgown opened in the front whenever she moved. If she wasn't expecting him to give her sex, then he didn't know why she'd wear something so revealing, so easy to open, and something that gave him complete access to her naked body.

Nearly bursting his eyeballs out of his head, she briefly flashed him enough of her dark brown, trimmed pussy for him to know that she wasn't wearing panties. Was his mother ready for sex or was her not wearing panties her way of being comfortable for bed? Quickening his pulse, her nightgown parted long enough for him to see that her pussy was still neatly trimmed in the way that it was Halloween night. Even though he saw her pussy before when she stripped herself naked and stood in front of him naked in the motel room, it was excitingly shocking to see her pussy again. As if he was seeing her pussy for the first time, he couldn't believe he just saw his mother's pussy again.

His mother's cunt was always such a meaningful phrase to him. He couldn't believe he saw his mother's cunt again. Moreover, as if she was his Christmas gift and she was wrapped in pale, pink, chiffon, tissue paper, he couldn't believe she was wearing that to bed with him lying beside her. While holding her, hugging her, cuddling her, spooning her, and perhaps even dry humping her, he couldn't wait for his long fingers to be in contact with his mother's cunt.

* * * * *

In the way that he was a voyeur, he wondered if his mother was an exhibitionist. It would be his sexual fantasy come true if she was. In the way she readily stripped off her clothes in front of him, maybe she enjoyed flashing her body not only to him but to others too. In the way she paraded around that motel room wearing just her panties and bra, maybe she enjoyed not only teasing him but also sexually teasing all men while wearing just her underwear. In the way she stood before him topless before standing before him naked, what woman would so willingly expose her naked body to any man unless she was an exhibitionist? More than just incestuous sex and aside from her being an incestuous whore, what mother would freely allow her son to see her in her underwear, topless, and/or naked unless she was an exhibitionist?

He wondered if she'd wear this nightgown to answer the front door the next time they ordered pizza. Not even needing to give him a tip, he could only imagine the look on the delivery man's face when seeing his mother wearing this. He wondered if he could convince her to wear this nightgown the next time they had a repairman in the house. He'd love to see the look on the face of the plumber, the electrician, or the handyman when seeing his mother in this nearly see-through nightgown. When the weather was warmer, he'd love to see his mother parading around the pool while wearing this nightgown and while the pool man or the landscaping man was trying to do their job.

"Yoo-hoo," he imagined his mother calling to them while carrying a tray of iced tea. "I brought you something cool to drink."

He imagined her emerging from the house and calling their attention to look at her. He imagined her carrying the tray of beverages chest high. With every step she took, he imagined her nightgown parting from the neck down to show them her naked tits and naked pussy. If she wore this outside, with just the slightest breeze, they could see so very much more of her naked body. They could see her tits and her pussy and when she turned to return to the house, they could see her naked ass through the nightgown as if she wasn't wearing anything.

He thought of all the sexy fun he could have with his mother. In the way that he was a voyeur, hoping she was, he couldn't help but wondered if his mother was an exhibitionist. In the way she was always flashing him up skirts and down blouses, in addition to her being sexually attracted to him as he is sexually attracted to her, maybe she was an exhibitionist. He'd love for his mother to flash unsuspecting men up skirt flashes of her panties and down blouse peeks of her cleavage and bra. He'd love to flash men his mother's underwear clad, topless, and/or naked body in the way she flashed him underwear clad, topless, and naked body at the motel. In the way she was flashing him her naked body now, he'd love for his mother to flash unsuspecting men her naked body later.

He imagined all the fun they could have at the mall. In hindsight, oblivious to her flashing men her panties, cleavage, and bra before, he recalled it now. He remembered when his mother was shopping for shoes, whether deliberately or inadvertently, she gave the shoe store salesman quite the between her legs show when flashing him her white, bikini panties. When he measured her foot and helped her try on a pair of shoes, she parted her knees enough to flash him her white, bikini panties. From where he was sitting on a little stool across from her, he had the perfect up skirt view of her panty clad pussy. Then, when she leaned down to fuss with her shoe, he had the perfect down blouse view of her cleavage and bra down her blouse. If the job of a shoe salesmen wasn't the best job in the world, then he didn't know what was.

In hindsight, oblivious to it before, whether it was deliberate or accidental, he recalled her flashing men now. He remembered when his mother was shopping for skirts, dresses, and blouses, with all of the stores they walked by in the mall, she chose the only women's clothing store that still had curtains on the dressing room. In and out of that dressing room a dozen times, she had a practiced, quick, one-handed way of closing that curtain so that the end of the curtain was always open enough for any man looking to see undressing and dressing.

In hindsight, oblivious to it before, he recalled her flashing men now. He remembered when his mother was trying on bikinis, she was giving men standing outside of her dressing room, while waiting for their wives and girlfriends, quite a show of her beautiful body. With his mother always deep in thought, he thought she was just being her oblivious self. He never thought that his mother might be deliberately flashing men her body in all manner of undress. Normally making him possessive jealous, instead it made him horny to watch other men staring at his mother's underwear clad, topless, and/or naked body.

'Wow! If only I knew then what I know now, I would have helped her flash.'

* * * * *

'Oh, my God,' he thought to himself.

With her wearing that flimsy nightgown, he couldn't wait to hold her. He couldn't wait to hug her. He couldn't wait to cuddle her. He couldn't wait to spoon her. He couldn't wait to dry hump her. While lying in bed next to her, he couldn't wait to feel and touch his MILF of a mother everywhere a son should never be allowed to touch his MILF of a mother. Only, with it such a long time since they were incestuously intimate, as if this was the first time, he'd have to start all over again.

"It's Christmas silly and you're standing beneath the mistletoe," she said laughing while looking up at the mistletoe dangling over his head. She removed her arms from around his neck to readjust and close her nightgown that had parted open again. "Merry Christmas Michael," she said kissing him on the lips while briefly flashing him her tits and pussy again before closing her nightgown.If only to sacrifice her comfort for her modesty, she kept her hand in front of her as if she was wearing a hospital gown backwards. With him wanting to see more quick peeks and furtive glances of her naked body, he wished it was suddenly windy in her bedroom. As if she was suddenly transported in time and she was Sally Fields as the Flying Nun, he'd love to see her wearing that nightgown while standing on a hilltop overlooking the ocean. As if she was an angel, his angel to ogle her naked, he'd loved to see her nightgown billowing open in the wind around her naked body. He so wanted to put on the overhead fan but it was a little cold in her bedroom already. He couldn't wait to get her beneath the covers and warm himself against her by cuddling with his mother.

"Oh," he said looking up over his head and pulling her to him by her arm to return her kiss with his.

No doubt her excuse to kiss him was now his excuse to kiss her. Other than her excuse to kiss him and his excuse to kiss her, he wondered why else his mother had put mistletoe over her bedroom door when they were the only ones in the house. If there was one thing he liked better than holding his mother was kissing his mother, French kissing his mother. If there was one thing he liked better than French kissing his mother was touching and feeling his mother, her tits, her pussy, and her ass. He couldn't wait to touch and feel her while kissing her. If there was one thing he liked better than touching and feeling his mother while kissing his mother was making love to his mother before fucking his mother.

When he surprised her by pulling her to him in that way, hoping for a view of her tits, the front of her nightgown opened again and he was rewarded with another quick view of her naked pussy before she put a hand there to close it again. After he kissed her, not wasting time with conversation in the way that he imagined she would, she climbed in bed, the side by the wall, and he got in on the other side. Quickly moving beneath the covers, they lay there like that in silence without talking and without holding, hugging, cuddling, and spooning one another. As if they were both virgin teenagers and as if this was the first time being in bed together, it was as if they were both afraid to make the first move.

When her nightgown billowed open from her climbing in bed and with her naked breasts exposed to him again, she raised the sheet to her shoulders to interrupt him ogling her. Always having wondered what it would be like to sleep with his mother before they slept together in the motel, he was wondering that again now. With them not being sexually intimate for nearly two months, reverting backwards sexually, he wondered what she was thinking. He wondered if she was sexually thinking about him in the way that he was sexually thinking about her.

He wondered if she was thinking about him in the same lustful, sexy, incestuous way that he was thinking about her. He wondered if she was just as sexually excited that she was in bed with him as he was sexually excited being in bed with her. He wondered if she was going to give him sex or if she just wanted him to hold her, hug her, cuddle her, and spoon her. Yet, if she wasn't going to give him sex, why would she wear such a revealing and sexy nightgown? Why would she make herself look so beautiful by fixing her hair, freshening her makeup, and putting on perfume?

"I'm tired," she said yawning again.

She turned to him to give him a goodnight kiss as if he was her husband of twenty-two years instead of her twenty-two-year-old son. As if she was an airbrushed movie star in bed on a sound stage, before turning off her bedside light but leaving on the nightlight, the nightlight glowed enough for him to see her pretty face. With their bedroom looking much like a movie set glowing with dim lights for the sake of the camera, just enough to see, he couldn't wait to see more of his nearly naked mother.

"Me too," he said returning her kiss with his kiss without touching her and or feeling her in the way that he so wanted to touch and feel her. "I can't wait to for you to see what I bought you for Christmas."

She gave him a loving smile that any mother would give her son.

"I'll find out soon enough," she said. "Good night Michael."

While waiting for her invitation in the way she invited him to hold her, hug her, cuddle her, spoon her, dry hump her, touch her, and feel her as she did in the motel room, he bided his time. Better that his mother make the first move, once she did, he'd make all of the other moves. He scooted his body closer to her but not close enough to touch her.

"Good night mom."

* * * * *

When she rolled on her side, his cue to hold her, hug her, cuddle her, and spoon her, he scooted over to her. With her nightgown having so much material, his body was on her nightgown and when she rolled on her side, her nightgown that remained beneath him opened wide. Peaking beneath the covers to see what he could see of her, the entire left side of his mother's body was exposed to his horny eyes. Her tit, her ass, and her pussy was there for him to ogle. It was then that he wished he had a flashlight or a watch that glowed brightly in the dark. He'd love to light up his mother's naked body enough for him to see more of her.

With the vision of his naked mother burnt in his head, he felt his cock growing stiffer. Not wanting to impale his mother's ass with his cock in the way he did at the motel, barely touching her, he didn't know what to do with his arm and with his hand. As if afraid to touch his nearly naked mother, he kept his arm to himself while allowing his hand to rest on his leg. Besides, afraid to touch her naked skin, not wanting her to close her nightgown, he didn't want her to know that she was so exposed.

Only, with her wearing that outrageously revealing nightgown, he suspected that she knew she was so exposed. Why else would she wear his particular nightgown other than to flash him? With it cold enough in her bedroom, cold enough to hang meat, she could have worn her flannel nightgown just as he could have worn more than a tee shirt, pajama bottoms, and underwear. He couldn't wait for his mother to keep him warm. He couldn't wait to keep his mother warm too.

"Michael," she said.

He loved her voice. He loved her smile. He loved her hair, her eyes, and her body. He loved everything about his mother. He loved his mother. He really, really loved his mother. Inappropriately wrong and incestuously forbidden, he loved his mother more than any son should love his mother.

"Yes Mom," he said popping up his head to see if he could see any more of his mother's body but she was already hidden beneath the covers.

He so wanted to hold her in the way that he held her in the motel. Only afraid of rushing things and ruining things, if not tonight, he'd have other chances to make his sexual move on his mother. He'd just bide his time. Maybe once she fell asleep and started snoring, he'd touch her. He'd feel her. He'd press his body up against her in the way he did on Halloween. Then, she said what he loved hearing her say.

"I'm not contagious. Don't be afraid to touch me and to hold me. I don't bite," she said with a nervous laugh. "I like it when you hold me and touch me."

'Oh, my God,' he thought. 'She wants me to hold her. She wants me to touch her. She likes it when I touch her? Touch her where? I wish she was more specific,' he thought. 'Does she want me to touch her arm, her hand, her leg or her ass, her pussy, and/or her tits?'

With her nightgown wide open, when he put his arm around her slim waist and pulled himself closer to her by holding onto her body, his hand was now inside of her nightgown. When he held her in that way, touching her bare skin, he was surprised to feel her naked, toned stomach. With the bottom of her heavy breast resting on his forearm, he so wanted to reach up to cup her big tit and finger her erect nipple. As excited feeling her naked stomach as he imagined he'd be feeling her naked breast, her naked ass, and/or her naked pussy, he couldn't believe he was touching and holding his mother in such a familiar, intimate way again. He couldn't believe he was holding and touching his mother in the way that he was holding and touching her before.

She made no move to close her nightgown, even though she, obviously now knew by the feel of his hand on her naked stomach that her nightgown was wide open. In the way she did at the motel, she surprised him with her immoral immodesty. Was his mother an exhibitionist? He didn't know. Was his mother a slut? He had no idea. Was his mother an incestuous whore? With him her perversely perverted son, he hoped to God she was.

With the bottom of her breasts resting on his forearm, his cock gradually hardened to full erection. So tempted, he so wanted to reach his hand up to touch her breasts, to feel her tits, and to finger her nipples. So tempted, he so wanted to reach his hand down to touch her pubic hair, rub her clit, and finger her pussy. Voluntarily, so as to not hump his mother's ass, not wanting her to know that he was sexually excited enough to have an erection, he backed away from her to allow only his thighs to come in contact with her and not his hips.

"You feel different than I thought you'd feel Mom," he said.

As if he was already inside of her, he could feel her breathing. Instead of sleeping, they were both wide awake.

"I do? What do you mean? How do I feel differently?"

As if reaching for something beneath his car seat, he slowly ran his hand down along her stomach and stopped when his fingertips touched the top of her trimmed, dark brown pubic hair. As if butting up against an electrified, barbed wire fence, afraid to touch her pubic hair in the way he was afraid to touch her pubic hair that first time, he left his fingers there. Seemingly her pubic hair was the incestuous imaginary line and the demarcation between what was appropriate touching and what was inappropriate groping between a mother and son.

In the way he did nearly two months ago, he couldn't believe he was touching his Mom's pubic hair with his fingertips again. He only wished he was touching her pubic hair with his tongue and/or with his cock instead of just with his fingers. With his hand so close to her sweet honeypot, he waited for her to swat his hand away and close her nightgown. He couldn't believe she allowed him to not only touch her in such a sexually incestuous way but also to allow him to leave his hand there so close to her pussy slit.

In the way he wondered if she was wet that night, he wondered if she was wet now. He wondered if she was as sexually aroused and wet as he was as sexually aroused and hard. Subtly and ever so slowly and delicately, he played with the top of her pubic hair as if he was touching her eyebrows. He wondered how far down she'd allow him to move his hand and his horny fingertips before stopping him. With her pussy slit and clit mere inches away from his long, horny fingers, he so wanted to continue moving his hand down, all the way down, to cup his mother's pussy before splitting her slit and rubbing her clit and finger fucking her cunt.

His mother's cunt. Just saying the words sexually excited him. In the way thinking that his mother was an incestuous whore sexually excited him, thinking about his mother's cunt sexually excited him. He'd love to do so much more to his mother's cunt than just playing with her pubic hair. He so wanted to masturbate her. He so wanted to finger her cunt, lick her cunt, and fuck her cunt in the way he did in the motel room. In the way he did Halloween night in the motel, he'd love to make love to his mother's cunt again before fucking his mother's cunt. A telling sign and evidence that she sexually wanted him as much as he sexually wanted her, he wondered again if she was as wet for him as he was hard for her.

"Maybe because I was so frightened to touch you and nervous about having sex with you that I didn't really think about what I was feeling when I was touching and feeling you then. You feel younger and firmer than I thought you'd feel," he said. "You have such a beautiful body Mom.

He wished he could feel more of her. He wished he could feel all of her. He wished he could feel her everywhere a son should never feel his mother.

"I exercise and I watch what I eat," she said with a laugh, "but thank you for the backhanded compliment."

If only he could confess how he truly felt about his mother, showering her with inappropriate compliments, he wondered what she'd say. He wondered what she'd do. He was in love with his mother in the way a young man is in love with a young woman. Yet, with the love and sexual passion he felt for his mother forbidden, maybe she would be uncomfortable with him gushing his feelings of love, sexual desire, and incestuous lust to her and in that inappropriate way.

Nonetheless it being wrong for him to be in bed with his mother while touching and feeling her naked body, the sexual pleasure he felt was much greater than the guilt he experienced in wanting to have sex with her. He didn't care that it was wrong to have sex with his mother. How could the love that he feels for his mother be wrong? It felt so right whenever he was with her. It felt so good to hold her and kiss her.

"Sorry, I didn't mean that in the way that it sounded Mom."

She laughed. He loved her laugh. She had such a musical laugh.

"Being that we're in bed together and with you playing with my pubic hair," she said with a laugh, "call me Jennifer instead of Mom. This is awkward enough for me to be in bed with my son, especially with you calling me Mom," she said with another laugh. "I'd rather we pretend that we're just man and woman, boyfriend and girlfriend, or husband and wife even, instead of mother and son. Let's just take this for what it is, one night at a time and a one night stand."

'One night stand? What did she mean by that? Is she going to give him sex again in the way she gave him sex on Halloween. He never knew with her. He was at her mercy and at her pleasure. She wasn't always so easy to read.'

She shocked him when she acknowledged that he was playing with her pubic hair. She shocked him when she didn't ask him to take his hand away. She shocked him when she said let's pretend that we're man and women, boyfriend and girlfriend, or husband and wife even, instead of mother and son. She shocked him when she said for him to take this for what it was...a one night stand.

Was she giving him permission to sexually touch her and incestuously feel her? He couldn't tell. Was she giving him permission to have sex with her? He didn't know. Was she giving him permission to do with her naked body what any man, boyfriend, or husband would do with his woman, girlfriend, or wife's naked body? He could only hope.

"Okay Jennifer," he said moving his fingers away from her pubic hair.

Not wanting to remove his hand from being in such close proximity to her pussy, he felt compelled to respect his mother by not groping her and/or taking sexual advantage of her.

"You needn't move your fingers Michael. That felt good what you were doing. Strangely familiar, you're father used to touch me in that relaxing way and do the same thing with his fingertips when in contact with my pubic hair when we were in bed together," she said taking his hand and putting it where it was before, only a little lower. "I like when you touch me in that way."

His mother likes it when he plays with her pubic hair. His mother likes being touched in the sexual way. Not a son who'd disappoint his mother, whatever she wanted him to do to her naked body was okay with him.

"Okay," he said.

He moved his hand back to her pubic hair only a little lower this time. Now instead of touching her pubic hair with just his fingertips, practically cupping her cunt, his whole horny hand was filled with his mother's dark brown, trimmed, pubic hair.

"I'm cold," she said. "Move closer to me to keep me warm Michael," she said pushing her buttocks against his already swollen cock. "Oh, you're wearing pajama bottoms," she said pausing before speaking again. "You're going to think me wicked and you're going to think less of me but take them off please. If you don't mind, I like feeling your naked cock pressed up against my naked ass."

'If I don't mind? Are you kidding me? Oh, my God,' he said to himself. 'She likes feeling my naked cock pressed up against her naked ass.'

"I don't think you're wicked," he said. "And I'd never think less of you just because you like feeling me up against you in the way that I like feeling you up against me," he said shocking himself by confessing that.

In the time it took him to say that, he removed his tee shirt, his pajama bottoms, and his underwear and was back and bed with his hard, naked prick pressed against his mother's naked ass. She moved closer to him. When she moved like that and pressed herself against him like that, his fingers moved with her. Now, instead of just feeling her pubic hair with his fingertips, he felt a whole handful of her pubic hair. With the palm of his hand resting on her pussy mound, his fingers were just above her pussy slit.

"Oh, Michael," she cooed, while pressing her naked ass against his naked cock. "You have an erection."

She wiggled her ass against him.

"Sorry Mom," he said but not sorry at all.

He dry humped his mother's naked ass.

"Sorry? Don't be sorry," she said pushing harder against him. "Be proud that you have such a big, hard cock."

When she moved like that and leaned forward like that in the fetal position, the bottom of her naked breasts rested on his forearm, his wrist, and the top of his hand. His cock hardened with the thoughts of touching her tits, feeling her tits, fondling her big tits, and fingering her erect nipples. He couldn't believe he was touching his mother's pussy again in the way he was touching her pussy before. With his mother resting her big breasts on his forearm, he couldn't believe he was touching her breasts, albeit with mostly his forearm instead of with his horny hand.

Without even touching and feeling her breasts with his upraised hand, he could feel the soft, firm, heaviness of her breasts on the back of his hand and arm. His Mom had big tits, at least a large C cup maybe even a small D cup. He couldn't believe he was so sexually aroused just by holding, hugging, cuddling, and spooning his mother while dry humping his mother. Just by him supporting her breasts with his arm and hand, he supported her big breasts as if his forearm was her under wire bra.

He didn't know if he could control himself from touching and feeling his mother where no son should ever touch and feel their mother. Unable to get enough of touching them, feeling them, fondling them, and fingering them, he'd love to feel her breasts and nipples again. He'd love to suck her big tits while fingering her hard nipples again. He'd love to dry hump his mother while feeling her big tits and fingering her erect nipples. Pressing himself harder against her, he moved closer to her while holding her, hugging her, cuddling her, spooning her, and dry humping her.

"How's that?"

As if moving his erect prick inside of her, he pushed himself closer to her and he felt his erection find a comfortable spot between her ass cheeks. He so wanted slide his hard, hairy cock in her warm, wet pussy. Imagining making love to his mother again, he imagined fucking his mother doggy style. Having experienced it only once before, he wondered what it would feel like to be inside of her again.

Right here and right now, he wondered what she'd do if he tried to have sex with her, to make love to her, and to fuck her. He wondered if she'd be submissive enough to allow him to have sex with her or if she'd be appalled enough to fight him while he aggressively and sexually took what he wanted and needed from her. Only why was she in bed with him naked and asked him to get naked too, if she didn't want to have sex with him? With her making all of the moves and with her being in sexual control of him, he needed to make his moves too. He needed to be in sexual control of her.

"That feels good," she said squirming her body more into him while seemingly taking his cock deeper in between her ass cheeks.

Sending him sexual signals, they still weren't clear enough for him to make a sexual move on his mother. She was his morally modest mother and not some slut of a drunken whore that he picked up at a bar. Regretting whatever he did or didn't do later, whether he made a sexual pass or not, exploring new sexual ground as if they had never had sex before, he didn't know what to do now. He was so confused. He was so afraid. The last thing he wanted to do was to ruin the good relationship and great friendship that he enjoyed with his mother with sex.

With his arm still wrapped around her slim waistline, his hand and fingers in contact with her pussy and her breasts resting on his arm and hand, he had the sensation of what it would feel like to fuck his mother up her ass. He wished he could fuck her vaginally or anally. So wanting to touch her and so wanting to feel her breasts, as if she read his mind, she took his hand and moved it on her left breast in the way she did before. His mother put his hand on her tit. He couldn't believe his mother put his hand on her tit.

'Oh, my God,' he loved feeling her big tits.

"Mom," he said.

Forgetting to call her Jennifer, Mom was all that he said and all that he could say. He couldn't believe it when she put his hand on her big tit again. With her hard, erect nipples impaling the palm of his hand in the way that his erect cock was nearly impaling her naked ass, he couldn't believe he was cupping his mother's big boob in his hand. God, he loved her big tits.

"You act as if you've never felt a breast before Michael? You act as if you've never felt my breast before," she said with a laugh. "It's okay. You can feel my breasts. I don't mind you feeling my tits. It's just a tit Michael. Feeling my tits is no big deal. Besides, I like it when you feel my tits and fondle my tits."

'It's just a tit? Not to him it wasn't. It's no big deal? She likes him feeling her tits and fondling her tits? Having her shapely breast in the palm of his horny hand was a big deal to him. He liked it when his mother referred to her breasts as tits in the way he liked it when his mother referred to his penis as cock.'

She surprised him with her immoral, immodesty by making the first incestuous move. Actually, she made the first sexual move when she agreed to have him sleep in the same bed with her. She made the second sexual move by wearing this sexy, wide open nightgown. She made the third sexual move when she kissed him on the pretense that he was standing beneath the mistletoe. She continued making sexual moves by allowing him to finger her pubic hair while resting her breasts on his arm and hand and while pushing her ass against his hardening cock on the pretense of him spooning her and cuddling her.

Suspecting that his mother was more taking advantage of him than he was of her, it was time for him to make his own sexual moves. Yet, with her his mother and with him her son and their sexual relationship deemed not only incestuous but also forbidden under the laws of the state and the church, all he could do was to follow her lead. All he could do was not to lead but to follow. All he could do was to go along with whatever she wanted to do while hoping that what she wanted to do was the same that he wanted to do and was something that was incestuously sexual.

"Sorry Mom. I just didn't want to grope you. I didn't want to take sexual advantage of you," he said. "I wanted to give you the respect that you deserve as my mother and not treat you as my whore."

'Shit! Fuck.'

He just called his mother a whore. He didn't mean to say that. He couldn't believe he just called his mother a whore. Even though he felt guilty saying what he just did, it sexually excited him to think of his mother as a whore. As long as she was his whore, what's so wrong with that?

In the way that his cock was growing while pressed against her naked ass, he could feel her nipple hardening against the palm of his hand. He had felt lots of breasts and fingered lots of nipples before but, with these tits weren't just any tits, these tits were his mother's tits and his mother's nipple. Feeling her breasts and nipples was so much more sexually exciting than feeling the breasts and nipples of some other woman, a stranger, and/or a woman he picked up in a bar. So wanting to finger her nipples, he didn't dare move his hand for fear that she'd move his hand away from her tit.

Holding his mother's breast in his hand was one thing but feeling her up as if he was a man and she was a woman he brought home from a bar for sex was something else. Yet, she did say to pretend that they were just man and woman, boyfriend and girlfriend, or husband and wife even, instead of mother and son. Nonetheless, now that he was holding one of her big boobs in his hand, he so wanted to feel and fondled his mother's bit tits while fingering her erect nipples.

She laughed.

"Sometimes I wouldn't mind you treating me as your whore," she said with another laugh, a dirty laugh this time. "I wouldn't mind being submissive to you. Sometimes with me wanting and needing to be taken, I wouldn't mind you making me your submissive, sexual bitch. I wouldn't mind you forcing me to do any sexual nasty and every incestuously dirty thing that you wanted to do to my naked body and that you wanted me to do to your naked body," she said with a nervous laugh.

'Fuck me,' he thought to himself. 'His mother wants to be taken. His mother wants to be his submissive, sexual bitch. His mother wants him to do any sexually nasty and every incestuously dirty thing that he wants her to do to his naked body and that he wants to do to her naked body.'

If he didn't know he was wide awake, he'd think he was dreaming.

"Mom," was all that he could say was forcing him to her knees to suck him.

Overwhelmed and preoccupied by the thoughts of all of the sexual things that he imagined doing with his mother, he moved his hand away from her naked breast. He imagined having anal sex with her. He imagined having sex in public with her. He imagined going to a nude beach with her. He imagined helping her to flash her naked body to unsuspecting men. He imagined them agreeing for her to have sex with other men while he watched and while he had sex with other women too. He imagined treating his mother like a whore instead of respecting her as his mother.

"I don't mind you touching me, feeling me, fondling me, and caressing my breasts Michael, just don't finger my nipples," she said turning her head on her pillow to look at him and as if daring him to touch her nipples. "Okay?"

'Don't touch her nipples? Damn,' he thought to himself. 'Her nipples are the best part of her breasts. Why can't he finger her nipples?'

He moved his hand back to her breast to cup her big tit in the palm of his hand. As if she could read his mind, he couldn't believe she said what he was thinking again. He wondered if her nipples were the only parts of her that were off limits. Does that mean that, as long as he doesn't touch her nipples, he could feel and finger her pussy?

Suddenly, he felt uncomfortable being naked. Suddenly, he felt awkward being in bed with his naked mother. Suddenly, he felt guilty being in bed with his mother. Suddenly, he felt perversely perverted wanting, hoping, and yearning to have incestuous sex with his mother again. Suddenly, all of those things that he thought of doing with his mother, hit him as being wrong, so wrong. How dare he think about having anal sex with his mother, having sex with her in public, going to a nude beach with her, helping her flash unsuspecting men, and agreeing for her to have sex with other men?

It may have been a one-time thing that happened at the motel but this was something else. They were in their house now. This was their new life. It was one thing to disrespect one another incestuously in a rented motel room but this was their house. Whatever they did now was no longer a one-time thing but a forever, incestuous action. Whatever they did now would be a memory that was permanently etched in their brains. Whatever he sexually did to his mother now is something he'd remember for the rest of his life. Whatever his mother sexually did to him now is something he'd be masturbating over for the rest of his life.

* * * * *

As if she had just farted in bed, he moved away from her. As if she had been eating crackers in bed and the cracker crumbs were everywhere, he turned away from her. Yet, in the way he loved his mother, not only didn't he care if she farted in bed but also he'd never kick her out of bed for eating crackers. Only, he felt guilty for wanting to have incestuous sex with his mother.

"I don't think I should be touching, feeling, fondling, and caressing your breast Mom," he said moving his hand away from her breast in the way that he moved his hand away from her pubic hair.

Nonetheless his protest in touching, feeling, fondling, and caressing his mother's breast, his cock grew harder and his incestuous lust for his mother intensified. He so wanted to move her on her back and mount her again as he did in the motel room. He so wanted to give him an orgasm with his fingers, his mouth, and his tongue before giving her an orgasm with his cock. He so wanted to make love to his mother while kissing her and feeling her everywhere. He so wanted to fuck his mother and really pound her pussy into orgasmic pleasure. He so wanted his mother to suck him and allow him to cum in her mouth again. Imagining her staring up at him with her big, beautiful, green eyes with his big, hard, hairy cock in her mouth, he so wanted to watch her swallow his cum.

"What's the big deal? It's just a breast Michael," she said reaching behind her to pull his arm forward and to put his hand back on her tit.

When she moved like that, just before moving his hand on her breast, his hand fell even lower. Before she moved his hand to her breast, his fingertips were right on her pussy slit. Taking a chance to see what she'd say, he played with the tuft of pubic hair that covered her pussy slit. As if dipping his toe in the water to test the temperature, he so wanted to dip his finger in her pussy.

"Sorry Mom, but it's not just any woman's breast, it's your breast," he said not knowing what else to say now that his hand was filled with his mother's big tit again.

If she wasn't his mother, he'd have a lot to say about feeling her big breast. It was one thing to cup his mother's breast in his hand and quite another thing to actually have her give him permission to touch, feel, fondle, and caress her breast. He wished he could finger her nipples.

"There's no reason to be sorry Michael. This is how I used to sleep with your father. When he wasn't playing with my pubic hair, he was holding my breast in his hand while I slept. Just as I loved feeling his hand on me, I love feeling your hand on me too," she said. "As long as you don't finger my nipple," she said again. "I'd like for you to hold my breast. And as long as you don't finger my pussy, I don't mind you playing with my pubic hair. I just don't know if we should continue an incestuously sexual relationship to the inappropriate degree that we did in that motel room. With us being in the new house and having a new life, I just think that would be wrong," she said looking at him as if to see if he agreed with her.

'Huh? What? She doesn't think a son playing with his mother's pubic hair and/or holding his mother's naked breast is incestuously sexual? What is it then if sleeping naked with his naked mother isn't incestuously sexual. Boy, she has some kind of convoluted idea of what's appropriate and what's not and what's incestuous and what's not. Only, now that he was sexually excited, now that he thought she was going to give him hot sex, she was ready to pull the plug.'

"Okay," said Michael feeling, fondling, and caressing his mother's breast while being careful not to touch her nipple with any part of his hand but his palm.

Okay, he said while not agreeing with her not to have sex in their new house. Okay, he said more agreeing that he'd enjoyed holding her breast and playing with her pubic hair. Okay, he said while hoping that she'd say okay that they could have sex, if only one more time. He'd love nothing more than to Christin his new house by having sex with his mother. He'd love nothing more than to rattle her bedroom windows with her having a screaming orgasm. Something they couldn't do in the motel room, they certainly could do now. They could scream their sexual pleasure all they wanted without fear of anyone hearing them.

Abandoning one to feel the other, in between feeling her breast, he reached his hand down to feel and to finger her pubic hair. Inching his hand down further down, he so wanted to cup her pussy again but this time while parting her pussy slit with his finger. He wanted to know if his mother was as wet as he was hard. He wanted to know if his mother was as sexually aroused as he was. He wanted to know if his mother sexually wanted him as much as he sexually wanted her.

"You have a beautiful breasts mom. I love your big tits. They're so soft and yet so firm," he said. "And your pubic hair is so soft too," he said wishing her could lick her pussy while fingering her pussy. "I love fingering your pubic as much as I love holding your breasts.

She turned her head to look at him with as much incestuous lust as he was looking at her.

"Thank you, Michael," she said. "I'm glad you're having a good time with my naked body," she said with another laugh.

Suddenly feeling sub-conscious and incestuously perverted, he stopped feeling and fondling her breast again. He didn't know if his mother was being sincere or sarcastic. He couldn't tell if she wanted him to continue touching her or not.

"I can stop touching you, Mother, if you'd rather I stop now," he said moving his hand from her breast and his cock from her naked ass.

Suddenly he felt like she was only allowing him to touch her to sexually sate him and not to sexually satisfy her.

"Don't be silly. I was just kidding Michael. I like you holding my breasts in your hand just as I like feeling you play with my pubic hair and just as I enjoy feeling your hard cock pressed up against me," she said. "You make me feel loved. You make me feel wanted. You make me feel sexy. You make me feel as if I'm in a loving, sexual relationship. You make me feel less lonely and sexually frustrated than I am," she said.

As much as he loved playing with her pubic hair, he loved the sensation of his mother's breast in his hand. Inspiring him to get harder, just the feel of her big tit in his hand allowed him to maintain a constant erection. When he wasn't feeling her breast, he was playing with her pubic hair. When he wasn't feeling her breast and/or playing with her pubic hair, he was dry humping her sweet, sexy, naked ass.

Taking the chance by making his move, he fingered her nipple, first one and then the other. When she didn't complain and/or move his hand away, he pulled her nipples out further. Expecting her to ask him to stop, when she didn't he continued fingering her nipples. He pulled, turned, and twisted her nipples. As if she was having a sexy dream, he watched his mother rub her thighs together. He knew that if she wasn't wet before, she most certainly was wet now.

* * * * *

After a while, when she flipped her pillow to the cooler side, she turned to spoon him and he turned to face the other way with her. As if they had done this hundreds of times before, instead of this only being the second time being in bed naked together, it was an orchestrated move. In the way that he did with her, she put her hand on his hard, flat stomach and pulled him to her. As if she was humping him in the way that he pulled her to him, it was as if she was his woman instead of his mother. When she pulled him to her, the action of her pulling him closer caused her hand to fall lower and only mere inches from touching the base of his swollen prick.

Cemented against one another, they stayed there like that for a few minutes before she lowered her hand, perhaps to a more comfortable position. Now with her fingertips touching the top of his pubic hair in the way that his fingertips touched her pubic hair before when inside of her nightgown, he wished she'd move her hand lower. As soon as he wished she'd move her hand lower, she moved her hand lower. With her fingertips in contact with the base of his prick, she fondled the base of his cock with her fingers. Then, in the way she did on Halloween, he wished she'd put her hand on his cock. He so wanted his mother to hold his cock and fondle his cock while stroking his cock. As if begging her for attention, his cock throbbed and pulsated in anticipation of the touch of his mother's hand.

Definitely, she must have felt his erection that throbbed and pulsated against her ass before and that now throbbed and pulsated against her fingertips now. How could she not know that he had a giant erection with his cock sticking straight out as if it was wooded board? With his cock planted right up against her ass and throbbing in between her ass cheeks before she turned the other way, as if he had a live snake trying to escape the covers, how could she not know he had an erection? Of course she knew he had erection.

How could she not know he was sexually excited? Of course she knew he was sexually excited. How could she not know that he wanted her to touch his cock, hold his cock, stroke his cock, suck his cock, and fuck his cock? Of course she knew that his engorged prick was begging for the touch of her hand, the warmth of her mouth, and the wetness of her pussy. How could she not know that he sexually wanted her? Just as she obviously sexually wanted him, of course she knew that he sexually wanted her.

He couldn't count the number of times he had an erection while thinking of his mother naked or while thinking of having sex with his mother. He couldn't count the number of times he had masturbated while thinking of his mother touching him, feeling him, holding him, stroking him, sucking him, and fucking his cock. Now here she was with her fingertips just mere inches from touching his throbbing and pulsating cock. In the way that she lovingly touched him whenever he was ill with a fever from the flu, his prick ached for his mother's hot hand to touch him now that he had a sexual fever.

Wondering how he could subtly move so that her hand would come in contact with his erection, he thought about moving a little higher up on the bed or raising his knees for him to move his cock higher and in reach of her hand. If he slowly slid himself higher up on his pillow while raising his knees, just a few inches higher, her hand would come in contact with his hardening penis. In the way she touched his cock and took hold of his stiff prick in her hand before, nearly two months ago, he wondered if she'd take hold of his stiff prick now when her fingers touched his cock.

Even if he arranged himself for her to touch his cock, would she leave her hand there or would she move her hand away? Only, just when he was about to reposition himself for his mother to inadvertently touch him, she shocked him by lowering her hand voluntarily. As if he willed her to do it, she touched his cock with her hand without any help from him. His mother was touching his cock again in the way he was touching her pussy. He couldn't believe his mother was touching his cock.

Then, if he wasn't shocked before, she shocked him now when she placed her hand directly on his engorged prick. He couldn't believe it when she placed her hand directly on his cock. Shocking him and sexually exciting him at the same time, his mother had her hand on his cock again in the way she did on Halloween night. With her giving him mixed signals and telling him that their having sex would never happen again, he didn't know what to think. All he knew was that he couldn't believe his mother's hand was in contact with his hard prick.

Leaving her hand there without moving it, he wished she'd wrap her fingers around his stiff prick and stroke him. In the way he didn't move his fingers when in contact with her pussy slit, she didn't move her fingers when in contact with cock. Something he had only dreamt about when sleeping and sexually fantasized about when masturbating again, he couldn't believe she was willingly and voluntarily touching his naked penis. In the way he so wanted to masturbate her, he wished she'd masturbate him.

It took all the self-control he had not to reach his hand down, wrap his hand around her hand, and close her hand around his penis. It took all the self-control he had not to wrap her fingers around his swollen prick. While humping her hand with his hips, it took him all the self-control he had not to move her hand back and forth and up and down for her to give him a forced hand job. It took all the self-control he had not to turn to her to kiss her, to touch her, and to feel her everywhere before forcing himself inside of her. In the way that he wondered if she was wet before, with her voluntarily touching his stiff prick, he no longer wondered if she was wet now. He knew she was as wet as he was hard.

As if he was her man, her boyfriend, her lover, or her husband and she was his woman, his girlfriend, his lover, or his wife, and she had deliberately moved her hand there, his mother left her hand on his cock. His mother was touching his prick. He couldn't believe his mother was touching his prick. Even though she had touched his cock, stroked his cock, sucked his cock, and fucked his cock before, her touching his cock now was just as sexually exciting as the first time she touched his cock.

As she no doubt would move her hand away had she accidentally touched his prick if they weren't in bed together, not moving her hand away now, she left her hand there. Not daring to move for the fear of his mother removing her hand from his stiff prick, he stayed there like that while the incestuous, sexual excitement of being in bed naked with his naked mother overwhelmed him. Never has he felt such sexual excitement with a woman feeling his erection through his clothes in the way that he was so sexually excited with his mother feeling his naked cock now. He wondered if she was sleeping and had accidentally touched him in her sleep. He wondered if she was dreaming of having sex with him in the way that he had dreamt of having sex with her so many times before.

Now that her hand was in contact with his cock, he wondered if she was sexually fantasizing about his erect prick in the way that he had sexually fantasized about her wet pussy. Not believing it for a minute, but wishing she had, he wondered if she deliberately moved her hand there and left her hand there while in contact with his naked prick. Just as he had been curious about the feel of bits and pieces of her naked body, he wondered if she was curious about the feel of bits and pieces of his naked body too. If indeed she was sleeping, he hoped she'd finger his cock in her sleep.

In the way that his hand was on her naked breast before, his mother's hand was on his naked cock now. In the way he stuck his hand inside his mother's nightgown to hold her naked breast in his hand, he wished his mother would wrap her fingers around his prick and hold his naked cock in her hand. He wished his cock would throb and pulsate against her hand so that she'd take the hint and wrap her fingers around his stiff prick. Giving her a reason to stroke him and masturbate him, he wished she take the hint of him not only being sexually excited but also being horny and sexually frustrated.

If his cock did throb and pulsate, he wondered if she'd move her hand away when his naked cock came in contact with her hand. Or he wondered if she'd leave her hand there to continue to touch him before holding and fondling his big prick in the way that he touched, held, and fondled her big tit. He'd love nothing more than for her to hold his erect prick in her warm hand. He'd love nothing more than for her to wrap her fingers around him and stroke him in the way he so wanted to rub her clit and finger her pussy. He'd love nothing more than for his mother to masturbate him in the way he so wanted to masturbate her.

Maybe, if she was sleeping, instead of moving her hand away from his cock, she'd wrap her fingers around his big prick instead. An involuntary move on her behalf, his cock throbbed and pulsated by the mere warmth and touch of her soft, motherly hand. Then, when she didn't move her hand away, wanting and needing more sexual stimulation, he voluntarily throbbed and pulsated his cock as if he was having sex with her hand.

"Mom," he said.

He didn't need to say anymore for her to know his meaning.

"Oh don't be such a prude Michael. This is how I slept with your father. It isn't like I'm giving you a hand job," she said. "He always held my breast and played with my pubic hair when we faced one way and I held his cock when we faced the other way. Holding your penis in my hand gives me comfort," she said. "It's just my hand Michael. It isn't as if I have your cock in my mouth or in my pussy."

'Just her hand?'

Giving him one image, she gave him two more images. He imagined his stiff prick in her mouth. He imagined her staring up at him with her big, green eyes, while his hard, hairy cock was buried in her mouth. He imagined mounting his mother and his mother reaching down to place his cock by her wet cunt. Then, humping her and with her humping him, he imagined being inside of his mother again. He imagined making love to his mother before fucking his mother.

He wondered what else she'd say was okay to do because she did that with his father. Would it be okay for her to give him a hand job in the way she did seven, long weeks ago? Would it be okay for her to give him a blowjob in the way she did seven, long weeks ago? Would it be okay for him to cum in her mouth and to watch her swallow his cum? Would it be okay for him to lick her pussy while fingering her pussy? Would it be okay for him to give her an orgasm with his fingers, his mouth, and with his cock? Would it be okay for her to make love to him before fucking him, really fucking him hard in the way that he fucked her really hard while pounding her pussy Halloween night?