A Lonely Mom, a Horny Son, and Xmas

A Lonely Mom, a Horny Son, and Xmas

"Mom?" Anthony looked at his mother, Samantha, with concern, love, incestuous lust, and horniness.

In the way that he always looked at her, yet not allowing her to catch him leering, he looked at her as if he was undressing her with his eyes while imagining having sex with her naked body. A natural blonde, she had big, tits and bright, blue eyes. She was so pretty. A shapely body with D cup breasts, she was so sexy. Anthony wished he could find a woman who looked like his mother.

More than just sexually attracted to his mother, Anthony was in love with his mother in the way that a man loves a woman and not in the way that a son should love his mother. When he wasn't masturbating over the thoughts of his mother naked while having sex with her, he was trying to peep on her to see whatever he could see of her. He'd give anything to see his mother in her panties and bra, topless, and/or naked. He'd give anything to have sex with his MILF of a mother's sexy and shapely body.

Unfortunately, knowing that she didn't share his sexual attraction and would never have sex with him, he wished he could find a younger woman in the image of his mother. Pretending that she was his mother, he wished he could find a woman who looked like her, talked like her, laughed like her, and walked like her. Saving himself from having perverse, sexual thoughts of having an incestuous relationship with his mother, he wished he could find her clone.

With the billions of women in the world, surely, there must be a woman who's his mother's twin. He wished he could find someone more his age and someone who's not blood related. He wished he could find a hot, sexy, and beautiful woman who wanted to have sex with him as much as he wanted to have sex with her.

# # #

His favorite holiday, Anthony loved Christmas as much as his mother loved Christmas. Yet, holidays changed when his mother divorced his father for cheating on her. With holidays never the same, he needed to inject some Christmas spirit in his mother. Somehow, he needed to make her happy from being so sad.

He couldn't wait to exchange Christmas gifts with her tomorrow morning. Wondering what she bought him for Christmas, he bought her perfume, a flannel nightgown, expensive chocolates, a fragrant candle, and a glass snow globe of the ice-skating rink at Rockefeller Center in New York. Seemingly not much but a lot of money spent on his mother from out of his meager budget, he was still trying to find a job after having recently graduated college.

While sitting across from her in the living room, taking his mother's image all in, he stared over at her. Lost in thought on Christmas Eve, with her breaking his heart, she looked so sad when she should look so happy. Instead of enjoying the holidays, she was always sad around the holidays. Not much of a drinker during the year, she drank more on her birthday, Thanksgiving, Christmas, and New Year's Eve. Obviously, with her not having a man in her life and him not having a woman in his life, the perfectly depressing pair, she was as lonely as he was horny.

If only he wasn't her son, he could help her from being sad and lonely. If only she wasn't his mother, she could help him from being sexually frustrated and horny. Yet, even with him her son and her his mother, how hot would that be to sleep together and have sex? Only, as much as he'd willingly want to have sex with his mother, she'd never have sex with him.

"Sorry, Anthony," she said as if he had startled her awake. "Did you say something?"

Accustomed to her sadly depressed mood swings, she was like this every holiday. He gave her an understanding look and a compassionate smile. He wished there was something he could say to get her out of her funk. He wished there was something he could do to make her happy. He wished there was something he could say and/or do to make her excited about life and about Christmas, her favorite holiday, again.

Out of the question except in his sexual fantasies, perhaps, allowing her to forget her sadness and alleviating his horniness, he wished he could give his mother sex. After stripping her naked while kissing her and touching and feeling her everywhere, he wished he could give her a sexual orgasm. He wished he could give her multiple, sexual orgasms with is fingers, his tongue, and his cock. Wondering what she looked like and sounded like when cumming, he'd love to see her and hear her cum.

Alas, him having sex with his mother may not make her happy but him having sex with his mother would surely make him happy. Yet, as soon as he had the thought of having sex with his MILF of a mother, his sexual excitement was replaced with guilt. As soon as he thought of humping his mother's mouth and/or her pussy with his hard, erect prick, he admonished himself for having the forbidden thoughts of having sex with his mother.

'What kind of son am I to have such forbidden, incestuous, sexual thoughts for my mother,' he thought while berating himself? 'How dare I disrespect my mother in that incestuously forbidden way?'

Besides, just as she'd never allow him to even French kiss her while touching and feeling her everywhere through her clothes, she'd never allow him to strip her naked. Even though he'd willingly and happily have sex with her, she'd never have sex with him. He may be an incestuous pervert but she wasn't an incestuous whore. She was a good, kind, and morally modest woman. She was his mother.

Guilty for sexually wanting his mother, what's wrong with him for wanting to have sex with her? What's wrong with him for constantly and continually masturbating over her while imagining her naked and having sex with her? When he's not sexually fantasizing making love to her, he's sexually fantasizing fucking her. When he's not imagining fingering and licking her pussy, he's imagining her stroking and sucking his cock.

None of his friends talk about their mothers in the way that he thinks about his Mom. Yet, if they had a mother who looked like his mother, they'd want to have sex with her too. If they had a mother who looked like his mother, they'd imagine her naked while having sex with her too. If they had a mother who looked like his mother, they'd be masturbating and cumming over the thoughts of her naked and having sex with her too.

"What's wrong, Mom? Tell me. Maybe I can help. Maybe there's something that I can do," he said while imagining his mother naked and having sex with her.

'Give me sex. Fuck me, Anthony. Please fuck me,' he imagined her saying. 'Hump me harder. Fuck me faster. Give me a sexual orgasm with your cock. Make me cum, Anthony. Make Mommy cum.'

# # #

Ready to repeat his question when she didn't respond, his excuse to stare at whatever he hoped to see of his mother, he stared at her while wondering what was wrong. In the way that he always stared at her before as if undressing her with his eyes while imagining her naked and having sex with her beautiful body, he stared at her now. Especially in the soft light of the Christmas tree and in the flickering glow of the fireplace, she looked like an airbrushed model posing for a fashion magazine. She looked like a celebrity ready to be photographed by the Paparazzi.

'With the Christmas tree the perfect backdrop, I wish I could photograph my mother in her bra and panties, topless, and/or naked,' he thought. 'How hot would that be to have sexy Christmas cards made of my naked mother? Merry Christmas from Samantha and Anthony,' he imagined sending out Christmas cards of him and his naked mother to all of his envious friends.

Instead of Samantha being his mother, he wished she was his girlfriend. Instead of just giving her a Christmas peck on the lips, he wished he could take her in his arms and kiss her, really kiss her, French kiss her. Not taking much to get him going, he imagined holding her as if he was her lover. He imagined staring into her big, blue eyes and parting her lips with his tongue while touching her and feeling her everywhere through her clothes. If only he could have sex with her, unembarrassed and unashamed, he'd have sex with his mother.

Only, he knew his mother didn't share his wanton lust and sexual desire for him in the way that he did for her. He didn't have to be a physic to know that his mother wouldn't appreciate her son French kissing her, incestuously lusting over her, and imagining her naked while touching her and feeling her everywhere. Sadly, and sexually frustratingly, he knew his mother wasn't sexually attracted to him in the way that he was sexually attracted to her.

Unless she was drunk, drugged, and/or vulnerable, and unless she didn't know who he was and where she was, something that only happened in his sexual fantasies, she'd never have sex with him. Nonetheless, he imagined taking sexual advantage of her. He imagined stripping her naked. Under the pretense of what was good for him was good for her, he imagined taking her and forcing her to have sex with him.

Yet, especially during the turbulent times of the #MeToo movement, what kind of son would take sexual advantage of his mother when she was inebriated? He could never face her the next morning knowing that he had stripped her naked and had sex with her beautiful body while she was drunk. With her never forgiving him, he'd ruin whatever mother and son relationship they now enjoyed. 

Even though it was hot to masturbate over imagining having forbidden sex with his mother, he'd always regret the day that he had sex with her. He'd forever regret the day that he got her drunk, stripped her naked, and forced his erect cock in her hand, in her mouth, and in her cunt. Forget about stripping her naked, he knew she'd never allow him to even French kiss her. He knew she'd never allow him to touch her, feel her, fondle her, and grope her through her clothes.

Nonetheless, he wished he could touch and feel her everywhere a son should never touch, feel, fondle, and grope his mother. Even though he knew his mother was sad and lonely, something so very forbidden, she'd never have sex with him, her own son. If only he could have sex with her, not only would that cure his horniness and make him happy but hopefully, perhaps she wouldn't feel as sad and as lonely. Yet, he could still fantasize having sex with her while masturbating himself.

# # #

"Wrong? There's nothing wrong," said Samantha looking up from staring in the fireplace to look at her son.

She forced a sad smile. As sullen as she was unhappy, obviously, she was lying. Obviously, there was something wrong. He wished he could fix whatever was wrong with his mother. Even if only for one night, he wished he could be her man, her dream man. He wished he could have sex with her.

He wished his mother sexually wanted him as much as he sexually wanted her. He wished he could be his mother's lover. Allowing her to forget her sadness for one night, he wished he could give his mother sexual pleasure. He wished he could give her multiple, sexual orgasms with his fingers, his tongue, and his cock. He wished he could make her cum. He wished his mother would give him multiple, sexual orgasms with her hand, her mouth, and her cunt. He wished she'd make him cum.

With him of the age that he believed that everything could be fixed with sex, if he couldn't have sex with his mother, he'd settle for seeing her naked. Giving him fodder for masturbation, he'd love to see his mother naked. He'd love to see her beautiful, sexy, and shapely body in all of her natural splendor. He'd love to see her big, naked tits, her areolas, her nipples, and her shapely ass. Wondering if she was shaved, bushy, or trimmed, he'd love to see his mother's naked pussy.

Perhaps, if she drank enough wine, she'd allow him to help her to bed. Perhaps, if she drank enough wine, she'd allow him to undress her as she slept while he touched and felt his mother everywhere a son should never touch and feel his mother. Perhaps, if she was drunk, turning the tables on him and with the onus on her, she'd be the one who'd sexually take advantage of him. Only, she'd never sexually touch him in the way that he wished he could sexually touch her.

"You look so sad, Mom," said Anthony.

Basking in the bright, flickering fire of the fireplace and in the glistening glow of the Christmas tree, she looked like a movie star in the soft lighting of a Hollywood studio. With no woman as beautiful and as sexy as his mother, she was stunningly lovely. She was as beautiful as any movie star and as sexy as any Hollywood celebrity. If Santa granted him one Christmas wish, as perversely perverted as it sounded, Anthony wished he could have sex with his mother. 

'And what is your Christmas wish,' he imagined Santa asking him.

'I'd like to have sex with my mother, Santa,' he imagined say.

'Me too,' he imagined Santa responding after seeing his mother.

# # #

He wished he could ever so slowly strip her naked while touching her, feeling her, fondling her, and caressing her everywhere. He wished he could kiss her, French kiss her. He wished she'd sexually want him enough to return his deep, wet kisses. Even though she was a good mother, the best Mom, he wished that Samantha wasn't his mother but his lover. Only, too good to be true to have a mother who looked like her, a woman who looked like her would never be alone with him unless she was his mother.

A natural blonde, she reminded him of Gillian Darmody, played by Gretchen Mol, in Boardwalk Empire albeit with much larger breasts. Beyond his immature comprehension, he didn't understand why someone who looked like her was alone. He didn't understand why his 44-year-old mother was home alone with her 22-year-old son during the holidays. He didn't understand why she didn't have a steady boyfriend. Moreover, kettle black, he didn't have a steady girlfriend either. Yet, his choice, Anthony would rather spend his time with his mother than with any other woman.

With him not having a steady girlfriend, if she wasn't his mother, not caring that she was much older, he'd date her. For sure, if she wasn't his mother, with her obviously unable to cross the incestuous line by having forbidden sex with him, he'd do her. He'd masturbate her, eat her, make love to her, and fuck her. He'd give her a Christmas that she'd never soon forget. Alas, too bad she was his mother. He could only imagine how amazing it would be to have hot sex with her.

"Sorry for being sad on Christmas, Anthony. I'm sorry for ruining your holiday," she said sighing while giving him another forced smile before falling sullenly silent again and before offering him insight into her morose mood. "I was thinking about past Christmases," she said. "I was thinking about happier times with your father," she said pausing to let out a sad sigh. "Sometimes, I'm lonely. Sometimes, I miss him. Sometimes, I wish he was here."

Every time she thought about her ex-husband, she became sad. Every time she thought about his father, he became angry. A truly beautiful, sexy, and shapely woman, she could compete with any woman her age and younger but when her husband abandoned her for his 25-year-old, whore of a secretary, there wasn't much she could do but to file for divorce.

Even though their breakup happened four, long, painful, and tearful years ago, still fresh in her mind, obviously, she still loved him. Obviously, she still missed him. Obviously, she was still hurt not only by his cheating but also by his ultimate betrayal and his rejection of her. His father was such an asshole for treating her in such a deplorable way. If she was his woman, he'd never cheat on her. If she was his woman instead of his mother, he'd be the happiest man on Earth.

# # #

Nothing more than a sexual fantasy, Anthony wished his mother romantically thought of him in the way that she longingly yearned over his father and in the way that he sexually lusted over her. With him now the man of the house, he'd love nothing more than to hold her, hug her, and comfort her. Nothing more than wishful thinking, he wished he could take the place of his father. Having a touch of an Oedipus complex, he'd love nothing more than to sleep in his mother's bed and cuddle up against her while spooning her and feeling her as she slept.

'How hot would that be to sleep in the same bed with my mother,' he thought? 'How hot would that be to feel her naked ass and feel her naked breasts through her nightgown? How hot would that be to rub my naked prick against the back of my mother's naked pussy?'

With him always having forbidden sexual thoughts and incestuous, sexual fantasies, he wished he could be his mother's lover instead of his mother's son. He'd love to sleep in the same bed with her. Yet, even though it would be wrong for him to have sex with her, he'd love nothing more than to have incestuous sex with his MILF of a mother. He'd love to make out with her while touching and feeling her everywhere. He'd love his mother to return his kisses while touching and feeling him everywhere too.

Sexually exciting himself while imagining his mother naked, willing, and vulnerable, he'd love to strip her naked. He'd love to give her multiple, sexual orgasm with his fingers, his tongue, and his cock. He'd love to make love to her before fucking her fast and hard. He'd love to cum in his mother's cunt. With her returning the sexual favor, he'd love for her to stroke him while sucking him. He'd love to cum in his mother's mouth.

'Cum, Anthony. Cum for your mother,' he imagined her saying while encouraging him to cum. 'Cum in my mouth. Cum in Mommy's mouth. I want you to cum in my mouth. I need to taste you. I need to swallow you.'

With her fake smile not fooling him one bit, and with her unable to hide her sadness, especially around the holidays, he knew she was hurting. A time when she was the most vulnerable, he hoped she'd consume enough wine to at least flash him some part of her beautiful, underwear clothe or naked body that he shouldn't be allowed to see. Even though he knew she wouldn't, fuck the #MeToo movement, he wished she'd consume enough wine to allow him to take sexual advantage of her.

Under the pretense of standing beneath the mistletoe, he'd happily French kiss his mother while feeling her big tits through her blouse and bra. Under the pretense of standing beneath the mistletoe, he'd happily French kiss his mother while feeling her shapely ass through her short skirt and bikini panties. He wondered what it was like to French kiss his mother. He wondered what it was like to feel her through her clothes while kissing her.

He'd never rape his mother, of course. Yet, if she was drunk enough not to know it was him touching her, feeling her, and groping her, he'd strip her naked on the pretense of putting on her nightgown and putting her to bed. If she was drunk enough not to know what he was doing, he'd kiss his mother. He'd part her red, full lips with his tongue and French kiss her. Even if he wouldn't sexually assault his mother, it was enough to imagine that he would while masturbating himself and imagining having sex with her naked body. If he knew that she wouldn't push him away, he'd returned her kiss with his kiss. While kissing her, he'd grope her big breasts through her blouse and bra and feel her shapely ass through her short skirt and panties. Sadly, and sexually frustrating for him, if only she'd give him an up-skirt peek of her panties and/or a down-blouse view of her cleavage and bra, he'd be happy. Giving him something to masturbate over later, he'd settle for only that. He was so pathetically horny in his sexual attraction to his own mother.

'I need a girlfriend,' he thought. 'I need sex. I need to get laid.'

# # #

"C'mon, Mom. Cheer up. It's Christmas Eve. You should be happy instead of sad," he said. "I refuse to allow Dad to spoil our fun and ruin another holiday. If only for one day, Christmas, you need to put him out of your mind and get on with your life. It's been four years. You need to think of all the good things that may happen without him than concentrating on all the bad things that he had done to upset you. Forget about him. He's gone."

With her wearing one of his favorite, short skirts, it had three buttons down the front. With gaps in between each button, the last button left a gap at her hem. When she sat, even with her knees tightly closed, he could still see a triangular patch of her bright, white, bikini panties peeking at him through the opened space of her buttons, just above her knees, and in between her shapely thighs.

Moreover, as if the fabric of the couch was complicit in helping to expose her panties to him, whenever she sat on the couch, her skirt bunched up in back and raised her hem to mid-thigh. Even though, he loved his mother's long, shapely legs, he loved seeing his mother's panties even more. He couldn't count how many times he went though his mother's panty drawer and laundry hamper and took a pair of her panties to bed with him to masturbate over them while sniffing them and imagining her wearing them.

Something she never wore, thank God, and didn't even own, his mother hated pantyhose and he hated pantyhose too. There should be a law that forbids women from wearing pantyhose. Before boarding a plane, train, or a bus, a public health hazard for men that causes them great sexual frustration, transportation inspectors should require women to remove their pantyhose. How hot would that be to watch women hiking up their skirts to remove their pantyhose?

'Okay, ladies,' he imagined TSA inspectors lining up women. 'You know the drill. Sorry, but you're not allowed to board until you remove your pantyhose.'

Someone should flog the gay, fashion designers who invented pantyhose and who encouraged women to wear them. He imagined gay, fashion designers thrown in prison and being flogged every day with wet pantyhose. He imagined gay, fashion designers committing suicide by hanging themselves with pantyhose.

'Take that! And that! And that! What the Hell is wrong with you for inventing pantyhose and encouraging women to wear pantyhose? Men don't like pantyhose. Men don't want to see pantyhose clad crotches, they want to see panties or naked pussies.'

Fortunately, for him, his mother never wore them. Instead, her uniform of choice, seldom even wearing pants or jeans, was a low-cut, button blouse and a short skirt. As she did every night, she showed him a lot of her shapely legs and flashes of her panty clad pussy. He loved his mother's long legs. He imagined sliding a slow hand and tongue up from his mother's slender ankles to her panty covered pussy. He wondered if his mother was tipsy enough, if she'd allow him to touch her, feel her, and massage her underwear clad, topless, or naked body.

'Wow. How hot would that be to massage my Mom's underwear clad, topless, or naked body,' he thought? 'I'd love to give my mother a sexy massage.'

Seemingly, most times, with her paying no never mind to what she was unintentionally showing him, trusting him not to ogle her, she was comfortable around him, especially when in her own home. Yet, with him always looking to see what he shouldn't see of his mother, and with her so obliviously naïve, she routinely rewarded him with accidental up-skirt peeks of her panties and down-blouse views of her cleavage and bra. Giving him something to masturbate over later, he loved seeing flashes of her panties as much as he loved seeing flashes of her cleavage and bra.

Then, whenever she wore her short, sheer, low-cut, and sexy nightgowns without having the modesty to wear a robe, she flashed him all that he wanted to see of her beautiful and nearly naked body. Trying not to stare, when she sat across from him, she flashed him peeks of her naked, blonde, trimmed pussy. She flashed him her long line of sexy cleavage, the tops of her naked breasts, and the impressions of her erect nipples.

Anthony never sexually thought about his mother until his father left four-years ago when he was 18-years-old. Now that he was older, hornier, and sexually attracted to her, with her working from home and with him having returned home after graduating from college and not working yet, they were always home alone together. Yet, instead of hanging out with his friends, there's no place that he'd rather be than being home alone with his MILF of a mother.

As if he was a perverted peeper, determined to see all that he could see of her, he was on a mission to see his mother in her bra and panties, topless, and/or naked. The most he's seen of her is when she wears a sexy, short, sheer, and low-cut nightgown with nothing underneath. Something she recently started doing, claiming she's too hot, whenever she wears her sexy and revealing, short, low-cut nightgown, she doesn't wear a robe over it. With her nightgown so sheer, nearly transparent, she gives him plenty of masturbation fodder to masturbate over later. 

Especially when she stands in front of the television in the darkened living room, he can clearly see through her flimsy nightgown. Then, as if she's naked, when she stands in front of the opened refrigerator door in the darkened kitchen, he can see all that he hoped to see of her beautiful body through her sheer nightgown. Again, as if she's standing before him in the nude, he can see all that the hoped to see of his mother whenever she stands in front of the big, bay window and pushes open the drapes in the morning light.

'My God,' he thought while staring at the naked silhouette of his mother's sexy and shapely body through her nightgown. 'She's my sexual angel with a heavenly body.'

# # #

"Sorry, I guess I am a little sad," she finally admitted. She took a deep breath and exhaled a big sigh while staring at the twinkling lights of the Christmas tree. "Bringing back a lot of memories, I always celebrated Christmas Eve with your father," she said not looking at him. Nonetheless, she confided in him as if he was her priest or her psychiatrist instead of her son. "I miss him," she said with a soulful pause. She looked at him as if she already expected him to answer her question in the affirmative. "Don't you miss your father, Anthony?"

She wrapped her hands around her wine glass as if it was a warm coffee mug and as if she was cold. She hung her head and shoulders low as if he was her bartender and she was troubled customer confessing her woes. Perhaps, she needed psychological therapy. Perhaps, she needed an anti-depressant. Perhaps, she needed sex. Perhaps, she needed to get laid.

Definitely, she needed a man in her life. Definitely, she needed to get laid. If she had someone to love and to have sex with, she wouldn't be so sad. Tempted to buy her a puppy, he wondered if a dog would help his mother. In the way that the dog would surely lick his mother's face, wishing he was her dog to train, teach, and master, he'd love to lick his mother's pussy.

"Miss him?" He made a face as if he had just swallowed a bug. "No, I don't miss my father," said Anthony shaking his head while staring at what he could see of his mother's panties.

Whenever she stared down at her wine, looked at the fireplace or the Christmas tree, he stared at what he could see between his mother's legs. Glad that she was giving him an up-skirt show, he loved seeing his mother's panties. 

"Why not?"

Shocked that she'd even ask him, he rolled his eyes and sighed.

"He was mean to you, dismissive of you, and disrespectful to you. He treated you like shit and ignored me. I'm glad he's gone," said Anthony.

Happy to have his mother all to himself, he was glad that she evicted the weasel from the henhouse. Now with him the only cock in the house, if only his mother saw him in the way that she saw her ex-husband, he'd be happy. If only his mother saw him in the way that he sees her, he knew he could make her happy. Yet, one slow, sexual step at a time, a slow progression and a long-lasting sexual seduction is better than being rejected after a quickie grope and a kiss.

Somehow, he'd have to sexually seduce her. Somehow, he'd have to make her sexually want him in the way that he sexually wanted her. If only his mother was as sexually attracted to him as he was sexually attracted to her, he'd love to make her cum. If only for one night, even if they didn't have sex but just cuddled and spooned instead, with his foot in her bedroom door, Anthony wished he could sleep with his mother.

"You didn't know your father in the way that I knew him," she said. "To you, he was your father. To me, he was my friend, my lover, my husband, my companion, and my life," she said looking as if she was going to cry.

Anthony wanted to go to his mother and hold her while hugging her. Yet, he feared he wouldn't be able to control his sexual lust and horniness. Afraid he'd try to kiss her and grope her, he remained in his chair. Afraid that he'd touch her and feel her where he shouldn't touch and feel his mother, he didn't want to prematurely ruin his chances of sleeping with her. He'd rather take his time in sexually seducing her. Perhaps, after she had more wine, she'd be more in the mood and sexually willing to do more with him with what he'd love to do with her.

"Mom," he said eager to change the subject in hopes of distracting her from her holiday misery.

Ready to impart advice that she wouldn't listen to anyway, changing his mind in midsentence, he stopped himself from finishing his thought. As if she needed to be sad while drinking, he allowed her to remain in her head. Knowing she always drank more during the holidays when she was sadly depressed, while hoping she'd have one too many, he allowed her to tell him how she felt. Trying to be the good son that she needed instead of the perverted son that she'd never sexually want, instead of talking, he listened.

"He was a good husband and a good provider before he started drinking and cheating on me with his secretary," she said with a long pause while nodding her head as if she needed that extra bit of head movement to believe what she had just said. "Blaming myself and feeling guilty, somehow feeling responsible, I always wondered if I was the reason why he left. I always wondered if there was something that I could have said or done differently that would have stopped him from having an affair and ultimately leaving me for her," she said as if he wasn't even there and she was talking to herself.

Unable to sit quietly, squirming in his seat while his mother took the blame for his father's drunken sexual infidelities, Anthony let out a laugh of absurdity while shaking his head with anger and frustration. Always taking his side while making excuses for him, there was no talking to her about his Dad. No matter what he said, he couldn't convince her that it was all his fault and she was better off without him. Obviously, the reason for her sullen mood, she was lonely. Yet, he couldn't allow her to blame herself for his father's drinking and sexual affairs without saying something.

"I don't know how you can blame yourself, Mother, for Dad's drinking and for cheating on you," said Anthony. "Maybe he was a great guy before you married him, but he was nothing more than a drunken pig. Obviously, he was mentally disturbed for him to take up with a woman nearly half his age when he had a quality woman like you at home. As Paul Newman once said, why go out for hamburger when I have steak at home?"

Samantha gave her son a loving look and a warm smile. When she looked at him that way, she melted his heart. When she smiled at him that way, she hardened his cock. He wanted to go to her and kiss her while touching her and feeling her everywhere.

"Thank you," she said. "It's comforting to hear you say that when my only sounding board left me for a woman young enough to be his daughter," she said. "Not very good for my ego and self-confidence, there was no way that I could compete with a woman nearly twenty years my junior. Obviously, he wanted something that I couldn't give him."

Anthony returned his mother's warm smile and loving look with his warm smile and loving look. Alas, now, with the tables turned, he wanted something from his mother that she couldn't give him. Nonetheless, once again, he wanted to comfort her. Once again, he wanted to hold her and hug her while kissing her and touching her and feeling her everywhere a son should never touch and feel his mother. He so wanted to strip her naked. He so wanted to make sweet love to her before fucking her fast and hard.

"You're better off without him. I'm here for you, Mom," said Anthony with a laugh when thinking of what he was going to say next. "Unless there's a choir of topless Playboy bunnies outside singing Christmas carols and inviting me to join them, I'm not going anywhere," he said with a dirty laugh while imagining his mother singing Christmas carols with him while topless.

'I'd love to see my mother's naked tits. I'd love to feel her big breasts. I'd love to suck her nipples while she stroked my cock. I wish I cold have sex with my mother,' he thought. 'I wish I could make love to her before fucking her.'

# # #

Then, as if she was sexually teasing him, something that immediately commanded his attention, as if she was Sharon Stone in Basic Instinct, she slowly and seductively crossed her long, shapely legs. As if hypnotized by what he was about to see, he stared. As if mesmerized by all that he was seeing of his mother, every time she crossed and uncrossed her legs, Anthony stared at all that he could see of his mother's bright, white, bikini panties.

'I love seeing her panties,' he thought. 'The only thing better than seeing her panties is seeing her naked pussy.'

Never thinking that she'd deliberately flash him her panty covered crotch, he wondered if she knew she was unintentionally flashing him. He wondered if she knew he could continually see her panties every time she crossed and uncrossed her legs in her revealing short skirt. He wondered if she was sexually teasing him. He wondered if she was deliberately flashing him her panty clad pussy. Like mother like son, if she was deliberately flashing him, in the way that he masturbated over her flashing him, he wondered if she masturbated over flashing him.

"Thank you for being my man and celebrating Christmas Eve with me but I wouldn't hold you back from joining a choir of topless, Playboy Bunnies," she said with a laugh while beaming him a smile. "Sadly, even though I have you here with me now, I won't have you for long. Once, some woman makes you her man, you'll be gone and I'll be alone," she said pausing in thoughtful sadness again. "Just as I missed celebrating Christmas with your father, Christmas won't be the same without you, Anthony," she said.

He's her man. He's his mother's man. His mother didn't need a man around the house as long as she had him. If only she'd sleep with him, he'd sleep with her while holding her, comforting her, and spooning her. If only she'd have sex with him, he'd have sex with her. 

"Honestly, Mother, I don't know why you miss my father. He was a lying, drunken bastard for taking up with that young whore from his office and leaving you for her," said Anthony. "He's nothing but a pig for having sex with a woman who was young enough to be his daughter and who was not much older than me."

He looked at his mother while wondering why she was here with him instead of attending some Christmas party at a nightclub with friends. He imagined her meeting someone and dancing all night while having a good time. Tempted to ask her out for a night on the town, only, he couldn't afford dating his mother or anyone until he found a good paying job. 

"Sorry, Anthony. I'm sad because I'm lonely," she said giving him another warm smile while confessing her need for companionship. "I'm glad you're here with me but it's not the same," she said perhaps hinting at being horny and sexually frustrated.

Obviously, her horniness and sexual frustration was something that he could help her with if only she'd give him the opportunity to try. If only she'd allow him to massage her, perhaps a massage would make her feel better. Perhaps, if she'd allow him to massage her, he could sexually arouse her enough for her to masturbate herself later.

Even better, instead of her masturbating herself, he could finger her pussy, feel her tits, and finger her nipples. He'd love to give her a massage with a happy ending. Something that he couldn't even imagine, he'd love to watch and hear his mother cum from him giving her a sexual orgasm.

Samantha leaned forward while studying the contents of her wine glass as if all the answers to her future were there. When she leaned forward like that, her low-cut blouse fell forward and opened with her. From his higher vantage point from his father's favorite armchair, he had the perfect down-blouse view of his mother's long line of sexy cleavage, the tops of her meaty breasts, and her white, low-cut bra. Hypnotized by what he could see of his mother's big, D cup, bra clad breasts, he wished he could touch her tits and feel her tits while making out with his mother.

When she leaned forward like that, she parted her knees enough to give him a continual up-skirt view of her panty clad pussy. He imagined going to his mother while on his knees. He imagined parting her legs and fingering her and licking her through her panties. In the way that he was making himself horny, he imagined getting her sexually aroused. He imagined removing his mother's panties and eating her cunt. Licking her while fingering her, he imagined giving her a sexual orgasm with is fingers and tongue before giving her another one with his cock.

# # # 

"You need to go out more, Mother. You need to meet someone," he said not believing that he was encouraging her to meet someone else instead of encouraging her to sleep with him. "You could join one of those online dating sites. I can help you make a profile," said Anthony with a sexy smile with what he was going to say next. "I'll even take some sexy, photos of you to post," he said with a dirty laugh while imagining photographing his mother in her sexiest and sheerest nightgown, in her bra and panties, topless, and even naked.

After taking candid and sexy, cheesecake photos of his mother, Anthony imagined having dozens of sexually revealing photos of his mother on his camera and on his computer in all manner of undress. After printing them out, he imagined her sexually arousing photos sprawled out on his bed while he masturbated over imagining his mother naked and having sex with him. Samantha looked up at her son and smiled. Then, she made a sour face as if the thought of meeting a man and/or allowing her son to take some sexy photos of her was the last thing she wanted to do.

"I know you're right. I do need to have someone in my life other than my son but not now. I'm not ready to date anyone," she said taking a sip of her wine. "I can't imagine dating another man and playing sexy games with him while waiting for him to call me."

He hoped she was thinking of his offer to write her profile. He hoped she was reconsidering his offer to take some sexy photos for her to post. She took another sip of her wine before telling him what she was thinking.

"What do you have to lose? It's worth a try. You may have some fun and meet someone that you really like and who really likes you too," he said trying to convince his mother to allow him to write her a profile and take some sexy photos.

She made a face while slowly shaking her head from side-to-side.

"An online dating site may be fun for young people who aren't careful what they post to Facebook and other online sites, but I don't know about you taking sexy photos of me," she said with an embarrassed laugh. "I'm still too hurt and preoccupied thinking about your father. I'm not ready for another relationship," she said slowly shaking her head back and forth. "With me a virgin when I married, I can't imagine another man kissing me, seeing me naked, and having sex with me," she said with a shudder.

As if seeing his mother for the first time in a new light of vulnerability and sexuality, he looked at her as if he was seeing her more as a potential lover than as his mother. Feeling a sense of possessiveness, he suddenly felt jealous when thinking of another man kissing her, touching her, feeling, undressing her, and having sex with her. Now that his father was out of her life, if anyone was going to kiss her, touch her, feel her, undress her, and have sex with her, he hoped she'd choose him. 

'Who better to have sex with my mother than me,' he thought?

He leaned forward in his chair as if telling her a secret. With him leaning closer to his mother, he now had an even better view of her panties. He'd love to finger her pussy through her panties while kissing her. He'd love to remove her panties and finger her naked pussy before making love to her and before fucking her.

"Give online dating a try, Mom. You never know. Mr. Right may be out there waiting for you," said her son appeasing her and cajoling her while hoping to break her out of her funk.

Yet, truthfully, the last thing he wanted was her dating anyone. Willing to write her a profile and not post it, if nothing else, he'd love to have some sexy photos of his mother. As soon as he offered to take sexy photos of her for her online, dating prolife, dizzy with incestuous, sexual desire, he couldn't help but think of his mother in her bra and panties. He couldn't help but think of her wearing one of her short, sheer, low-cut, sexy nightgowns. He couldn't help but think of her topless and/or naked.

As if he was with the Paparazzi, with the camera flash lighting up her nightgown to make it virtually transparent, he'd have nearly, naked photographs of his mother to masturbate over later. Maybe if he continued pouring her wine, she'd agree to having him photograph her in her nightgown. Not done there, perhaps, after she had a couple glasses of wine, she'd allow him to photograph her in her low-cut bra and bikini panties. If he got her drunk enough, perhaps, she'd allow him to photograph her topless and/or even naked.

Forget about photographing her, he'd love nothing more than to see his MILF of a mother in her sexy lingerie. He'd love to see his mother topless. Nothing more than a sexual fantasy, he'd love to see his mother naked. As much as he'd love to see his mother's naked breasts, he'd love to see his mother's blonde, trimmed, naked pussy, and her round, firm, naked ass.

'Wow, I'd love to see my mother topless. I'd love to see my mother naked,' he thought. 'I'd love to see my mother naked on her bed while willing to have incestuous sex with me. I'd love to see her on her knees in front of me with my hard, erect prick in her mouth while she stares up at me with her big, blue eyes.'

"Online dating?" She looked at him as if he was drunk or nuts. "I'd never post my profile online. With all the perverted men who'd contact me for sex, I'd never post my photos, especially sexy photos, online either,' she said slowly shaking her head. "If you don't mind, I'd rather keep my loneliness to myself," she said with a sad, little laugh. "Whether at the mall, in the supermarket, the hardware store, at work, or at the Post Office, love will happen when I least expect it."

Disappointed and hoping to change his mother's mind about filling out an online, dating profile, even if she didn't post the photos, he'd love to take some sexy, cheesecake photos of his mother. He'd love to have a collection of photos of his mother in all manner of dress and undress. Only, she'd never allow him to photograph her in her sexy nightgown, in her low-cut bra and bikini panties, topless, and/or naked. The only time she'd allow him to photograph her when not fully dressed is when she's wearing her bikini at the beach or by the pool in the backyard.

"Not every man is a pervert, Mom," said Anthony as if defending himself as a man while knowing that he was a pervert for wanting to see his mother naked and have incestuous sex with her. 

# # # 

With him walking the fine, incestuous line, he was lucky that he didn't unduly upset his mother by suggesting to take sexy photos of her. Not wanting to upset her by allowing her to know that he sexually wanted her, not wanting to sexually turn her off, he needed to be careful with what he said. The last thing he wanted her to suspect was that he was sexually attracted to her enough to want to sleep with her and have incestuous sex with her. Samantha looked at her son with curiosity while Anthony looked at his mother with sexual desire.

"What about you?"

She gave him a sexy smile while Anthony looked at his mother with confusion.

"What? What about me? What do you mean, what about me, Mother?"

In the way that he looked at his mother with sexual excitement, she seemingly looked at her son with sexual arousal. Perhaps, she was more than curious about submitting an online, dating profile than he thought. Perhaps, she was interested in having him photograph her in all manner of undress. All she needed was to say the word and he'd get his camera.

"Why don't you post an online, profile to date someone," she asked while turning the tables on him? "You write the profile and I'll take some sexy, beefcake photos of you in your underwear," she said with a sexy look, a naughty smile, and a dirty laugh. "Instead of a son photographing his mother in all manner of undress, I'm willing to photograph you in all manner of undress," she said with a sexy smile.

'What did she mean by saying that she's willing to photograph me in all manner of undress? Did she mean naked? I'd love to show my mother my naked, erect cock. I'd love my mother to photograph my big prick,' he thought while getting sexually excited. 'Maybe in the way that I'd love to have sexy photos of my mother, she'd love to have sexy photos of her son.'

His mother shocked him. Enticed to strip down to his underwear, right here and right now, only, if he posed for his mother in his briefs, he'd have a huge erection. No doubt, with him already having a couple of drinks, if he posed for his mother in his underwear, he'd want to pose for her naked. Moreover, unable to sexually control himself, if she agreed to take sexy photos of him naked, he'd be trying to kiss her, touch her, feel her, fondle her, and grope her while trying to have sex with her.

"Eww, Mom,' he said hiding his sexual excitement while feigning his disgust and embarrassment. "That's so gross."

As much as he'd love for his mother to pose for him in her bra and panties, topless, and/or naked, he'd love to post for his mother in his underwear and/or naked. While hoping that she'd touch him, stroke him, suck him, and fuck him, he'd love nothing more than to show his mother his hard, erect, and naked prick. Like mother like son, maybe in the way that he wanted sexy photographs of his mother to masturbate over later, she wanted sexy photographs of her son to masturbate over later too.

'I wonder if my mother masturbates,' he thought. 'I wonder if my mother masturbates over imagining me naked and having sex with my naked body in the way that I masturbate over imagining her naked and having sex with her naked body. In the way that I'd love her to watch me masturbate and cum, I'd love to watch her masturbate and cum.'

She looked over at him in the way that he always looks over at her, as if undressing him with her eyes.

"Oh, Anthony. Don't be such a prude. Don't be so shy. You have nothing to be embarrassed about. You don't have anything that I haven't already seen before," she said with another dirty laugh.

With her making salaciously sexual comments, maybe the wine was getting to her. He couldn't believe his mother was sexually and inappropriately talking to him in a way that he never heard her talk to him. Taunting him, tempting him, teasing him, and sexually enticing him, he wondered what her reaction would be if he removed his pants to show her his underwear clad erection. Yet, not believing their sexual dialogue was going anywhere but to make him horny and sexually frustrated, again, Anthony changed the subject.

# # #

"After I'm gone to live with or to marry a woman, you can't stay here alone and wither away, Mom. Everyone needs someone in their lives. You're still young and beautiful. You're still sexy and have a shapely body. You have a lot to offer a man," he said.

As crazy as the thought was, he wished he could live with his mother forever as man and woman instead of as mother and son. Not needing another woman in his life to intellectually challenge him, erotically stimulate him, and sexually satisfy him, how hot would that be to have his mother sexually every day and every night in his life? As much as he'd love to finger her pussy while licking her pussy, he'd love her to stroke his prick while sucking his prick. As much as he'd love to make love to his mother, he'd love to fuck her.

"Except for when I'm lonely, my life is not so bad. As long as I still have you in my life, I'm happy living alone and not having to cook, clean, and cater to the whims and needs of another lying and cheating, drunk of a man," she said.

She shocked him by what she inferred about his father. Finally, instead of mourning him as if he was dead, she was finally speaking the truth about the terrible life she had with her husband. Perhaps, he had talked some sense in her by confessing how he truly felt about his father when she asked if he missed him. Perhaps, she was finally considering him as a potential lover in the way that she never stopped thinking about his father.

Now, with his mother playing into his thoughts, he wondered if she'd live with him forever in the way that he wished he could live with his mother forever. With him a good cook, as long as she gave him sex, he'd do all the cooking. Treating her as his fairytale queen, he'd even do all the heavy lifting and most of the cleaning. With him not much of a drinker, he'd never allow her to see him drunk. Suffice to say, never cheating on his mother, he'd be a much better man than his father. 

"Not all men are liars and cheaters, Mom," said Anthony. "There are a lot of good men out there. You only need to find one."

He smiled at his mother as if he was one of the bachelors on the Bachelorette waiting to be given a rose at the rose ceremony. 

'Pick me. Pick me,' he imagined saying while waving his arms and jumping up and down.

Again, seemingly lost in thought, she stared at her wine as if she was reading her fortune in a tea cup. When she wasn't staring at her wine, she stared at the fire. When she wasn't staring at the wine or at the fire, obviously with her thoughts somewhere else and allowing her sadness to control her, she stared at the Christmas tree lights.

Taking full advantage of every voyeuristic opportunity, whenever she stared at her wine, at the fire, or at the Christmas tree, he stared at what he could see of his mother's panties. He loved seeing his mother's panties. He only wished he could lick and finger his mother's cunt through her panties.

With the wine working its magic, she relaxed her legs and parted her knees enough for him to see even more of her panty clad pussy. He stared at her camel toe, at her pussy slit, and at the darker shade of her pubic hair. In the way that she doesn't wear panties when wearing her nightgown, he wished she wasn't wearing panties now. As much as he'd love to show his mother his hard, erect cock, he'd love to see his mother's naked, glistening wet pussy.

"I know," she said. "Yet, now that I'm older and grateful for the small things in my life, I don't need a man to make me happy in the way that I once thought that I did. As long as I have you in my life, even if for only short visits, I'm happy living alone," she said. "It's not so bad. Really, it's not. Without having to answer to a man, I get to do what I want and when I want to do it. I get to go wherever I want and whenever I want."

Such a waste of a good woman, suddenly feeling possessive of her, yet, he couldn't imagine his mother without a man in her life. Only, if she found someone else, no doubt, he'd be jealous. No doubt, he'd be a wedge in trying to sabotage their relationship. Wishing it was him being sexually intimate with his mother, he couldn't imagine a stranger seeing her naked and having sex with her. Unable to go there, he couldn't imagine his mother having sex with anyone else but him.

"Everyone should have someone in their lives, Mom," said Anthony while wishing he had someone and while wishing his mother was his special someone.

Fruitlessly trying to let her go, yet, now that his father was out of the picture, this was his chance to finally, sexually seduce his mother. It pained him to think of another man kissing her while sexually touching her and feeling her. It pained him to think of another man stripping her naked and having sex with her naked body. It pained him to think of another man making love to her before fucking her. It pained him to imagine his mother kissing, stroking, sucking, and fucking another man. 

"Always remember, Anthony, it's the small things in life that are most important," she said looking into the fireplace. "I'm grateful for the warmth of the fire." She looked around the living room as if seeing it for the first time. "I'm grateful for this house. I'm grateful that you came home to me after graduating college, even if you living with me is only temporary until you find a job, get your own apartment, and find someone to love."

Anthony gave his mother a loving smile while wishing he could give her a long, deep, wet kiss.

"I'm grateful for you, Mom," he said.

She returned his smile with her smile. He'd love to show her how grateful for her that he really is by showing her his erect prick. With her stroking him while sucking him, whether all over her hand, in her mouth, in her lush, blonde hair, and/or all over her beautiful face, he'd love to cum for his mother. With her making love to him before fucking him, whether he was on top of her, she was on top of him, or he bent her over the couch, he'd love to cum in his mother's cunt.

"When your father left me for that whore, I got everything and he got nothing but his freedom. Yet, I'm sad being alone and lonely." Then, before hitting him with the big sexual bombshell, she looked up at him as if waiting for him to make his sexual move. "I'm sad sleeping alone with no one to share my empty bed," she said with sadness while looking up at him and making eye contact with him. "It's not the sex that I miss but being held, hugged, cuddled, and spooned is what I miss the most."

'Is she hinting that she wants me to sleep with her,' he thought? 'Why else would she say that while looking at me in that sexually forbidden way?'

Something he always wanted to do and masturbated himself while imagining doing it, he imagined sleeping in his mother's bed. He imagined holding her, hugging her, cuddling her, and spooning her. He imagined her holding him, hugging him, cuddling him, and spooning him.

Then, as soon as she fell asleep, he imagined feeling her naked tits and fingering her erect nipples. He imagined squeezing her naked ass and fingering her naked pussy. He imagined touching and feeling her everywhere that a son should never touch and feel his mother. Perhaps, if she drunk enough wine and was drunk enough, he imagined having sex with her as she slept. He imagined her giving him a sleeping blowjob and him cumming in her mouth.

Anthony hoped what she said about being lonely wasn't lost in the translation. Perhaps, something unsaid, her real definition of loneliness was horniness. Perhaps, she wanted to have incestuous sex with her son in the way that he wanted to have incestuous sex with his mother. 

He wondered if his mother was as horny as he was. He wondered if she was as sexually frustrated as he was. If even just a little bit, with the alcohol loosening her sexual inhibitions, he wondered if his mother was sexually attracted to him in the way that he was sexually attracted to her.

Now, wondering more about his mother, he wondered again if she masturbated. He wondered if masturbation was different for women. If she did masturbate, he wondered again if she masturbated over him in the way that he masturbated over her. Again, he wondered if she masturbated over imagining him naked in the way that he masturbated over imagining her naked. He wondered if she masturbated while imagining having sex with him in the way that he masturbated over imagining having sex with her.

# # # 

"What can I do to give you some Christmas spirit, Mom? Just tell me. You name it and I'll do anything, anything at all," he said while hoping she'd ask him to give her sex.

As if he was having a sexual fantasy right there in the living room, he imagined his mother telling him what she wanted and needed him to do to give her some Christmas spirit.

'I'd like you to kiss me, really kiss, French kiss me, while touching me and feeling me everywhere through my clothes,' he imagined his mother telling him what she wanted and needed him to do for her. 'Then, I want you to strip me naked and finger my pussy while licking my pussy. After you make love to me and fuck me, I'll stroke your prick while sucking your prick.'

Hoping beyond hope, he hoped she'd allow him to run a bubble bath for her. He hoped she'd allow him to give her a massage. Hoping beyond hope, he hoped she'd allow him to sleep with her in her bed while holding her, hugging her, cuddling her, and spooning her.

"There's nothing you can do for me that you haven't already done, Anthony," she said sadly while giving him warm and loving motherly smile.

Having incestuous sex with his mother in the forefront of his mind, he persevered in wanting to lovingly and sexually spoil his mother for Christmas with a warm bath and a sexy massage. Wanting to give her a Christmas she'd always remember and would never forget, he wanted to give her a day of multiple orgasms. Only, as much as he wanted to have sex with her, she'd never have sex with him.

"This is your special day, Mother. You're the one who always loved Christmas," he said staring at the sexy shape of his mother while she stared at the Christmas tree. "My Christmas gift to you is to give you whatever I can do to make you happy," he said.

He hoped again that she'd want him to draw her a bath and give her a full body, naked massage and/or allow him to sleep with her in her bed. Then, when Samantha gave her son a soft, loving smile, he wished he could take her in his arms and kiss her. He wished he could have forbidden, incestuous sex with his mother.

"There's nothing that I want or need, Anthony," she said with a shrug. "Thank you anyway for being so thoughtful," she said falling silent again. Then, as if talking to herself, she softly said what she wanted and needed. "Actually, what I really want and need is sleep. I haven't been sleeping very well lately," she confessed with a yawn while making eye contact with her son. "I really could use a good night's sleep."

Not allowing her to get off the hook that easily, Anthony persevered in trying to sexually seduce his mother. Begging the question, he wondered why his mother wasn't sleeping. No doubt, with her thinking about his Dad this time of the year, the holidays always made her sad. It didn't help that she drinks more this time of year. Unless she was dead to the world drunk, alcohol always ruined her sleep.

He wondered if there was anything that he could do to help her to sleep. Ready to give her his solution, he was ready to volunteer to sleep with her. He wished she'd invite him to sleep with her. Only, just as he knew his mother would never allow him to photograph her without her clothes, run her a bath, or give her a naked, full body massage, he knew she'd never allow him to sleep with her in her bed either.

"I know," he said suggesting it anyway and giving her a big smile while imagining her naked. "What if I drew you a bath, a bubble bath, and gave you a massage after your bath," he said, a naked massage, he wanted to say but didn't. "After the wine that you just had, surely a warm bath and a nice massage would help you to sleep."

He imagined her agreeing to him running her a bubble bath. He imagined pulling up a stool to keep her company and talk to her as she bathed. He imagined washing her back while watching all of those big bubbles popping and bursting to show him more of her big, naked breasts, glimpses of her areolas, and peeks of her erect nipples. Then, after her bath, he imagined her agreeing to having him give her a full body, naked massage in the way that Bryan Brown in Full Body Massage gave Mimi Rogers a full body, naked massage.

'In the way that I saw Mimi Rogers naked in that movie, I'd love to see my mother naked,' he thought. 'In the way that I saw Mimi Roger's naked tits, I'd love to see my mother's tits. In the way that I saw Mimi Roger's naked ass and pussy, I'd love to see my mother's naked ass and pussy.'

He imagined his mother lying face down on her stomach with only a small facecloth covering her shapely, naked ass. He imagined his mother turning to lay on her back while a small facecloth covered her blonde, trimmed pussy and a small hand towel covered her naked breasts. While massaging his naked mother, he imagined his mother allowing him to touch her, feel her, and fondle her everywhere a son should never touch, feel, and fondle his naked mother. Surely, if she agreed to a bubble bath and a naked massage, this Christmas gift would be more for him than for her.

As if she was thinking about it, she looked at him and smiled while leaning forward on the sofa. Every time she leaned forward, she not only parted her knees and flashed him an even better view of her white panties again but also, she flashed him her long line of sexy cleavage and her low-cut brassiere. As much as he loved seeing and ogling his mother's panties, he loved seeing and ogling his mother's cleavage and her exposed brassiere.

As if he was her upstairs butler, he imagined his mother allowing him to run her a bath. He imagined undressing her for her bath. He imagined his mother allowing him to strip her naked while allowing him to touch her, feel her, fondle her, caress her, and grope her where a son should never be allowed to touch, feel, fondle, caress, and grope his mother. He imagined helping her out of her bath and drying her everywhere with a small, thin hand towel that allowed him to not only see everything but also to feel her ass, feel her big tits, finger her nipples, and finger her pussy.

"There's nothing you can do for me that you haven't done already, Anthony," she said again. "You're a good son. Thank you for suggesting a bubble bath and a massage. A tempting offer but no. I'm sorry for being a party pooper. I'll feel better in the morning," she said with a shrug and a sad look of dejection. "It's just that," she said pausing while leaning back in the soft comfort of the couch.

A good son? If only she knew the sexual thoughts he had over imagining her naked while having sex with her naked body, what would she think of him then? What kind of son would she call him then, if she knew that he wanted to have incestuous sex with her? What would she think of him if she knew that he wanted to fuck her? What would she think of him if she knew that he wanted her to blow him and that he wanted to cum in her mouth and watch her swallow his cum? 

With her not having finished her thought, he wondered what she was going to say. Perhaps, she was ready to change her mind about him drawing her a bath. He'd love nothing more than to sit with his mother while she was taking a bubble bath. Perhaps, she was ready to change her mind about him giving her a full body, naked massage. He'd love nothing more than to massage his mother's shoulders, back, ass, and legs. He'd love nothing more than to give his mother a massage with a happy ending.

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

Anthony looked at his mother as if she was the only woman in the world.

"I know it sounds silly and I can't believe I'm telling you this but you're old enough to know such things," she said pausing again. "What I miss most about your father is sleeping with him," she said biting her lip while looking up at her son. "Even though he cheated on me, lied to me, deceived me, and drank to an excess, when in bed with me, he made me feel safe. He comforted me when sleeping with me and while holding me, hugging me, cuddling me, and spooning me."

'Was she hinting that she wanted me to sleep with her,' wondered Anthony. 'He'd love to hold her, hug her, cuddle her, and spoon his mother, especially if she was wearing one of her short, sheer and sexy, low-cut nightgowns,' he thought. 'Only, turning something so innocent into something sexual, just as there was no way that he could help from touching her, feeling her, and groping her, there was no way that he could stop himself from having an erection. There was no way that he could innocently sleep with her without touching her, feeling her, and groping her.'

Nonetheless, Anthony thought about suggesting the forbidden. As if he was her husband instead of her son, he wondered if she'd agree to allow him to sleep with her. He imagined sleeping his mother. He imagined holding her, hugging her, and cuddling her while spooning her. Only, if he slept with her while spooning her, he couldn't help himself from pressing his erect cock up against her firm ass. If she invited him to sleep with her, he couldn't help himself from feeling her ass, cupping her breasts, feeling her breasts, and fingering her nipples through her nightgown while she slept.

"I can understand that," said Anthony.

Hoping beyond hope, he wondered if his mother was going to ask him to sleep with her. Then, as if she was sexually teasing him and incestuously enticing him, she revealed some of the erotic details of his father sleeping with his mother. As if she was giving him sexual pillow talk, she confessed what she did with his father that he imagined doing with his mother whenever he masturbated himself while imagining his mother naked and having sex with her.

"Feeling his hands on me, holding me, touching me, caressing me, and fondling me was comforting. Now, tossing and turning, while continually waking up during the night, I haven't had a good night's sleep since he left me four, long, years ago," she said not making eye contact with her son. "I'm so lonely, Anthony. I'm so sad," she said while finally making eye contact with him before falling silent again.

He wondered if lonely was his mother's code word for horny and sad was her code word for being sexually frustrated. He wondered if her look was just a look or an invitation. He wondered if his mother wanted him to sleep with her. He wondered if his mother wanted him to hold her, hug her, and cuddle her while spooning her. He wondered if she wanted him to touch her, feel her, and fondle her. He wondered if him sleeping with his mother in her bed was her subtle invitation for them to have incestuous sex.

# # #

Perhaps, wishful thinking on his part and just a figment of his incestuous imagination, because of all the up-skirt and down-blouse flashes he had recently seen of her, he wondered if his mother was deliberately flashing him. He wondered if she was incestuously enticing him and erotically seducing him in the way that he'd love to sexually seduce her. Now, something as incestuously forbidden, he wondered if his mother was hinting that she'd want him to sleep with her.

'How hot would that be to sleep in the same bed with my mother,' he thought? 'I'd love to sleep in the same bed with my Mom.'

Not even having to think about it and with her not having to twist his arm, if even only to just sleep, he'd love to sleep in the same bed with his mother. Unable to remove the image of sleeping with her from his horny mind, as if he wasn't already sexually excited enough before from seeing his mother's panties, cleavage, and bra, he was even more sexually excited now. Even if they slept in their clothes, he'd love to sleep in the same bed with his mother.

Just thinking about lying next to her and spooning her, he was becoming sexually excited. He was getting an erection. After she fell asleep, he imagined touching her, feeling her, and fondling her through her nightgown. He imagined sleeping with his MILF of a mother and cupping her naked breast and nightgown clad ass as she slept. He imagined lifting the back of her nightgown and feeling her naked ass before fingering her naked pussy. He imagined rubbing his naked, erect cock against his mother's naked ass and sliding his prick along her pussy slit from behind.

He took a big gulp of his wine to summon the courage of what he was going to suggest next. Having nothing to lose, she could only say no, or possibly, she'd say yes. Whichever her answer, it would be telling. Either she'd allow him to sleep with her or she wouldn't. Either she sexually wanted him as much as he sexually wanted her or she didn't. Hopefully, she was just as lonely as he was horny.

"I can sleep with you, Mom," he said blurting it out as if someone else had said the words.

The silence while waiting for her to answer was unbearable. Not sure if she heard him, he was ready to repeat what he just said again. Yet, not wanting to push his luck by seeming too eager and overly, sexually excited, he bit his tongue while waiting for her to respond. Hopefully, she'd agree to him sleeping with her.

Hoping she'd say yes, he imagined sleeping in the same bed with his mother. He'd wear his pajama bottoms without wearing underneath. Hoping his erect cock would pop out of his pee hole during the night, he'd love to press his naked prick against his mother's nightgown clad ass. Then, once she was asleep, he'd lift her nightgown and press his naked prick against her naked ass. He imagined holding her, hugging her, cuddling her, and spooning her while humping her and sexually molesting her in her sleep.

When his words finally penetrated her alcohol pickled brain, she looked at him as if she had just heard what he volunteered to do for her, albeit more for him. Yet, more than that, crossing his fingers while saying a silent prayer that she'd say yes, she looked at him as if she was considering his offer. As if on cue, she slowly and seductively uncrossed her long, shapely legs while turning more to him before parting her knees enough for him to see all that he wanted to see of his mother's panty clad pussy.

'I love seeing my mother's panties,' he thought while trying not to allow her to catch him staring. 

His mother flashed him her panties, yet, again. He couldn't believe his mother flashed him her panties, yet, again. Something he never tired of seeing, he loved seeing her panties. She had such beautiful thighs and such a lovely pussy mound.

Something, as her son, he was forbidden to see. He wondered if she knew she was flashing him her panties. He wondered if she'd be embarrassed and/or ashamed if she knew she was unintentionally flashing him her panties. Then, something so very sexually exciting, he wondered if she was deliberately flashing him her panties.

'How hot would that be if my mother was deliberately flashing me her panties,' he thought? 'How hot would that be if my mother wanted me to see her panties as much as I want to see her panties.'

If she was deliberately flashing him her panties, he wondered if she was sexually teasing him. He wondered if she was incestuously enticing him by allowing him to see her panty clad cunt, his mother's cunt. If she was deliberately flashing him her panties, he wondered if she'd be sexually aroused and/or incestuously excited that he could see her panties.

# # #

He wished he could finger his mother's pussy through her panties. He wished he could lick her pussy through her panties. He wished he could remove her panties and eat her naked cunt before making love to her beautiful pussy and before fucking her hard and fast enough to give her sexual orgasms not only with his fingers and his tongue but also with his cock.

'I'd love to hear my mother cum. I'd love to watch her having a sexual orgasm. I love to know that I was able to give her as much sexual pleasure as she had given me,' he thought.

She looked at him as if she had just heard what he offered to do.

"Sleep with me?" Obviously, taken aback, she looked at him as if he had just splashed cold water in her face. "Really," she asked giving him a loving, albeit sexy smile? "You'd sleep with me?"

Then, she innocently looked at him as if she didn't know his meaning. She looked at him as if he was joking. She looked at him as if he was crazy or mad with sexual lust. If he was mad with sexual lust for his mother, unbeknownst to him, taking two consensual adults to have an incestuous affair, she was mad with incestuous desire for her son. If only he knew that she sexually wanted him as much as he incestuously wanted her.

"Yes, Mother," he said. "I can sleep with you, if you want."

As if she was a debutante at her first ball, she laughed a little, nervous laugh. Acting coy, she played down her good looks and sexy body. She needn't have asked the question when she already knew the answer.

"Now why would you want to sleep with your old mother?"

Unable to conceal what she was thinking behind her sexy smile and naughty look, she looked at him with sexual arousal in the way that he looked at her with incestuous lust. As if he was her suitor, she looked at him in the way that he had never seen his mother look at him before. She looked at him in the way that he always looked at her and was looking at her now. She looked at him as if she was imagining him sleeping with her in the way that he had already imagined sleeping with her dozens of times before while masturbating.

# # #

"I don't mean having sex with you, Mom. I mean, so that you can get a good night's sleep, just lying beside you as if we were resting instead of sleeping," he said explaining his motives. "We could even sleep in our clothes, if that would make you feel more comfortable," he said waiting for her to answer while hoping she'd say yes.

She gave him an understanding smile. The last thing he wanted was to sleep with his mother in their clothes. The last thing he wanted was to sleep with his mother without having sex with her. He'd much rather she'd wear one of her sexy, short, and sheer, low-cut nightgowns while he wore his pajama bottoms without wearing underwear. He'd much rather she'd flash him most of her naked tits, her naked ass, and the back of her naked pussy, while he flashed her his naked prick.

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

Now, based on her look of disappointment, he wondered if he should have propositioned his mother for sex. Why not? What did he have to lose? Either she'd say yes or she'd say no. Yet, making her fear him, she may ask him to leave her house. Besides, one step at a time, he needed to be granted permission to sleep in her bed before propositioning her for sex.

Nonetheless, even though they were mother and son, with her as lonely as he was horny, they were consenting adults with sexual wants, emotional needs, and physical desires. His perfect woman, there was no other woman that he'd rather have sex with than with her. Besides, whatever sexually happened between the both of them, no one would know what went on behind her closed bedroom door. None of anyone's business, no one would know that he had sex with his mother and she had sex with her son.

Not even having to think about it, he'd definitely do her. She was so beautiful. She was so sexy. She had such an incredibly shapely body. He'd definitely have sex with his mother if she asked him to give her sex.

He'd finger her, lick her, make love to her, and fuck her. Hoping she'd return the favor, he'd love her to stroke him, suck him, make love to him, and fuck him. Not even having to ponder the thought, he'd definitely have sex with her, if she allowed him to have sex with her. Giving him the eye, a come-hither look that she had never given him before, she looked at him as if she was a woman that he had just asked home. Not waiting for her to answer his question, he asked his question again.

"Seriously, Mom, what if I slept with you? That might help you to sleep," he said as if he was thinking more about her having a good night's sleep than he was thinking about his incestuous, sexual desires and him having sex with his mother. "You could finally get a good night's sleep."

She smiled while laughing with glee.

"I don't know about my son sleeping in the same bed with his mother," she said with a nervous, little laugh. "My reputation in the community would be ruined if anyone was to discover us sleeping together," she said rolling her eyes and sighing. "Not that I care what people think but I wouldn't want to ruin your chances of you finding the love of your life because of people thinking that you had sex with your mother."

Sex with his mother, she said the words. Obviously on the same, sexual page, she was thinking what he was thinking. Sex with his mother, forget about just sleeping with her, he'd give anything to have sex with her. Now reenergized by her encouragement, as if he was speaking to his mother in his sexual fantasy while masturbating himself, he persevered. 

"I could hold you, hug you, cuddle you, and spoon you in the way that Dad used to do," he said as if he was offering her a self-less act of love instead of a perverted act of incestuous lust. "I'd do anything for you to finally get a good night's sleep, Mom," he said nodding his head as if he needed that extra bit of head movement to make his mother believe his sincerity and not suspect his perversity.