Waiting up for Son a Mother Taen

The Players.

Mother: Claire Alannah Shea

Father: William (Bill) Shea

Son: Thomas (Tommy) Shea

Daughter: Elizabeth (Lisa) Shea

Best Friend: Jamal Johnson

Claire Shea had begun to drift off as she sat on the sofa with her legs crossed and her Bible in her lap. It was just after midnight; her loving husband was not a "Nervous Nellie" like Claire. The devoted mother always waited up for her teenage children to come home safely on the weekends, while her husband John was off to bed sleeping like a baby.

The forty-year-old Southern-born housewife had lived a charmed life. Growing up in a loving, Christian household, she married her high school sweetheart. She was a stay-at-home mom with three well-adjusted children and an attentive loving husband. Living in the suburbs in a newer home, she had ties to the community through family, friends, church, children, PTA, and a local women's book club. She also volunteered at the local library.

Irish by anyone's standards, the consummate mother would be considered a genuine beauty queen, who was aging gracefully. Even being forty years old, she had frequently been mistaken for her daughter and she was terribly proud of that fact.

She was five feet four inches tall in her bare feet, and her thick hair was Irish red in color, cascading down the center of her back well past her shoulders, in the same 70's feathered style that she had worn most of her life. Many people considered her gorgeous locks to be her most attractive asset.

Claire had emerald-green eyes synonymous with red-heads, and a slight trace of freckles that were barely visible across the bridge of her nose, quickly providing sufficient evidence of her Celtic heritage. The mature wife worked hard to look good, and she knew that all the hours she spent sweating her behind off in the gym were well worth the effort. She was still quite lean, and her body had great definition for her age. To her delight, she was able to achieve it all without sacrificing her feminine side. Her eyes were highlighted with dark eyeliner and three blended shades of green eye shadow.

Claire considered her eyes - not her hair, to be her greatest asset. Her lips were full, just like her mother's, and for nearly five years she had always applied Besame brand Red Lipstick - 1920. Also, at 34C-23-33 the loving wife was never tempted to surgically enhance her full breasts.

Her breasts showed some sag after breastfeeding three children, and when she removed her bra, they dipped somewhat, no longer as pert as a few years ago. Her stomach had developed a small pooch after child birthing and had grown a bit softer over the years. Likewise, her hips flared ever so slightly as the years added up. However, overall, she considered hers, the near perfect measurements for a woman her size and age.

Claire regarded sex as the sacred obligation of marriage that all good wives must endure. Yet, in spite of her straight-laced upbringing, her natural beauty had made her the target of licentious leers since she'd entered puberty. She pretended to be oblivious to all of the unwanted attention her figure garnered, but she was very much aware of her effect on men. Whereas many women would have enjoyed the attention and made the most of their assets, the loving wife's answer had always been to dress conservatively and downplay her gifts.

Claire yawned, adjusted her glasses and turned the page on her Bible. The mature wife and mother cringed and became uncomfortable as she came across the next passage. Incest, she wondered to herself what kind of sick individual would have sexual relations with a family member. As the religious woman read Leviticus, she sighed, wanting to skip over the part about no relations between dad and daughter, mother and son, brother and sister and so on.

Just then she heard the pounding of footsteps coming up the porch steps, followed by the doorbell ringing. Claire sighed and stood, adjusted the labels of her long ivory silk robe and opened the door. There stood her son's friend Jamal Johnson, who was holding up her inebriated son, Thomas.

"Hey Mrs S, Tom had a bit too much to drink so I drove him home."

Claire noticed the young teen's eyes were not meeting hers but focused on her mature chest. The eighteen-year-old black teen had always lusted after his friend's mother and tonight was a treat for the muscular young man. Clarie glancing downward. The mature wife blushed, mortified her luscious acres were on display.

Claire cringed as she realized the lapel of her silk robe had parted, displaying to the young teens, a deep "V" of fleshy cleavage, and the spray of freckles across her milky white skin. What made matters worse, was the fact that her thick distended nipples were noticeably displayed against the silk fabric.

Tom looked up from his stupor and muttered, "Damn."

Claire's alabaster skin turned a deep shade of red as she looked away from the prying eyes, trembling as she raised her hands, closed the lapel and whispered to her son, "Hush your mouth child." She cursed herself, wondering why she was blessed with large breasts and nipples, so thick, she had to wear a padded bra in an attempt to hide them. She crossed her arm to cover her breasts and held the lapel closed, saying, "I'II take him from here Jamal, thanks so much for bringing him home."

"No problem, Mrs. S. I can give you a hand getting him up to bed, if you like?" The black teen stared hungrily into the religious mom's eyes.

The fawn had trouble maintaining eye contact with the black teen and glanced downward spotting what looked like a thick pipe in his pants. She swallowed hard, moved a stray red hair back behind her ear and said, "No, I got him, but thank you for the offer."

Jamal passed Tom to her and held out the keys to her minivan. As she was taking them, Jamal put his right arm on Claires left shoulder to steady the petite woman. "Got him? Careful there, Mrs. S." he said and then slid his hand down touching the side of the mature woman's pendulous breast. "Good thing I was here to help." Jamal looked into the dumbfounded mother's eyes.

Claire froze, not believing that her son's childhood friend had copped-a-feel of her braless breast. Was it an accident? Had Jamal meant to touch her? It seemed minutes passed, as she was consumed by the internal debate. The naturally reserved woman watched helplessly as Jamal smiled and brought his hand forward and openly cupped Clair's full breast.

Tom raised his head, focused his eyes, looked up and was stunned that his friend was fondling his overly religious mother and thought "Holy fucking shit!"

Jamal squeezed and lifted the meaty breast as though it was his property. Then he stopped, backed his hand off her silk covered flesh, smiled and took hold of Claire's stiff nipple and began to manipulate it.

The mature woman's breathing became ragged as she struggled to regain control of the rapidly deteriorating situation. She was staring at the dark as coal hand on her breast as Jamal leaned in and whispered in her ear, "Go put your inebriated son to bed and meet me downstairs in the family room.

As the black teen backed away Clarie's eyes looked into his and she glanced back and forth between Jamal and her disbelieving son. Claire snapped out of it and brushed the black teen's hand aside and said, "How dare you! Mind your place young man!" The appalled southern lady closed the door on the smug teen.

The befuddled mother sighed and tried to pull it together saying, "Come on Thomas, let's get you off to bed before your father finds out you've been drinking."

Claire placed an arm around the young teen's waist and started leading him towards the stairs. Thomas put his arm over his mother's shoulder, while still trying to wrap his clouded brain around his mother's lack of dominion over the groping. He gazed at the mature mother's body as never before. Suddenly he saw his mother as a woman, a real woman, an object of sex. He watched the bobbing breasts that shook with each stair they climbed, the pebble-like nipples poking through her silk robe and the grace of her womanly hips as they moved. Fuck, he was getting hard at the sight of his own loving mother in an incestuous way.

Then there was the delay in his mother's use of authority when dealing with his buddy. Jamal had just fondled her breast, nipple and propositioned her. Could it be that the sweet and loving, always happy, congenial Christian woman who always tried her best to keep the peace, was naturally submissive?

Tom started mumbling, thinking about the botched date that left him with blue balls, "Too big, loser, what's wrong with me..." as they reached the top of the staircase and headed down the hallway.

"Hush, hush, keep it down now. Voices carry. We don't want to wake your father."

Tom continued to mumble about being too big and being a dork as she guided the teen boy into his bedroom, closed the door behind them and led him over to a chair in the corner of his room.

"Come on child, get yourself ready for bed." Claire instructed, as she opened the dresser drawer, took out a t-shirt and threw it to her son.

Tom leered at the mature mother who began to turn down the king size bed. As she reached across the bed, her natural breasts hung down, and he got another good view of her milky white cleavage. He thought, "What the fuck?" as removed his shirt and began to unbuckle his pants. The heated teen pondered, "She's venerable and wanting to keep peace she would never tell dad, even if I tried to fuck her."

"You ready, tiger?" Claire asked as she closed the window shades and turned back towards her boy. Suddenly she shrieked. Her six-foot two-inch son was naked except for his boxers that he was pulling down at an agonizingly slow pace. A look of lust echoed from his eyes as inch after inch of his phallus was exposed. Four, five, six, seven inches as the thick flaccid penis came into view. Claire watched seemingly paralyzed, as if what was happening was in slow motion, and there was nothing she could do to prevent it. Thomas was still standing before her when his eyes locked on his mother. He pulled his boxers down off his hips allowing them to drop to the floor and pool at his feet. His large soft cock was now beginning to thicken and lengthen as the mature mother stood there unable to pry her Irish eyes away from it.

"Honey, what's going on?" Muttered the stunned mother, not believing her own eyes as her son stepped out of his boxers.

The young Adonis stood completely naked in front of his timid mother. His years playing football and wrestling had paid off. His chiseled body was a muscular work of art; thick black hair, well-groomed, a magnificently sculpted chest, and big biceps with veins protruding from them. Gazing down past his six-pack stomach, she came across his almost hairless crotch. There was only a small hairy patch, almost looking like a black mustache just above his obscenely large phallus. Her son was hung like a horse. In addition, Thomas' testicles bordered on freakishness. They were huge, incredibly so.

Claire, a virgin when she met her husband, had never been exposed to anything remotely like what she was witnessing. Blinking a number of times, to make sure she wasn't dreaming, the loving mother gazed at the thick ten-inch pipe dangling between her son's masculine legs.

Claire muttered, "Well, I declare..." visibly shaken by what she was seeing. "Thomas, put your underpants back on this instant." The mature mother attempted to sound stern as her voice quivered.

"Mom, my date tonight, she laughed at me and said it was too big, that I was a loser." Thomas starred in his mother's doe-like green eyes with a hunger, as the timid woman struggled to take in the unfolding situation.

"Umm, aw. Well, yes, you're umm, a large size honey, but, umm within the normal range I would say..." The mother lied and began to blush. She glanced back and forth between the rapidly growing organ and her son's eyes as she muttered to herself, "good gawd, I don't believe it." Finding her voice, she said, "Your fine baby, now please put something on." The mature woman almost sounded like she was begging rather than a mother giving direction.

Thomas glanced at his boxers on the floor and then his eyes slowly rose as they moved over his mother's womanly figure. Claire was quickly becoming uncomfortable, like a mouse caught in the shadow of a hawk, as she saw her naked son take a step toward her. Her breathing became ragged as her chest rose and fell. She could feel her son's eyes on her matronly breasts as he slowly closed the distance between them.

"MILF" he mumbled, "How could I have missed it..." The strapping young man was now standing so close, she could feel his breath on her trembling skin as he lifted his hand and gently brushed astray her red hair, hanging in her face off to the side. The young son then moved in closer to his prey and gently kissed his mother's cheek.

Claire trembled and closed her eyes as her son kissed his way down to her chin.

"This is as far as it goes, Thomas," she said, trying her best to reestablish control of the deteriorating situation. Her son paid her words no heed at all, as he moved his right hand to her hip. Claire stared directly into her young son's eyes.

Unfortunately for Claire, eyes alone would not prove a deterrent to Thomas, and for the life of her, she couldn't seem to find her voice, nor will her arms to move. She watched helplessly as his large hand began working to free the sash on her long silk robe. A giant wave of fear washed over the loving mother as she watched the knot come free.

It was as if everything was moving in slow motion and felt as though an unseen force was barring, even so much as a peep, of protest from the southern lady. The stymied mother watched her son, and before she could completely grasp hold of what had happened, Thomas pushed the robe from her delicate shoulders, and it pooled to the hardwood floor.

The befuddled mother stared down at her scantily covered body in a long ivory silk "V" cut lace Olga nightgown, but the slow methodical attack only continued, as he reached up and cupped both her matronly breasts. He squeezed and manipulated the large C-cup breasts. Her son enjoyed the heavy, womanly feel compared to the young taught "girls" he had been with earlier in the evening. And though they sagged some, she was real, unlike the balloon tits on porn stars,

Claire screamed in her head "NO!" as the timid mother found her inner strength and reached up, grabbing both her son's larger hands and bellowing, "Have you lost your goddamn mind? Please don't tell me that I am so failed as a parent that my only son is so morally bankrupt and unnaturally attracted to the sight of his mother's breasts?" Claire stared down her young son, never blinking and said, "This ends now young man!"

Thomas, never breaking his stare, gently squeezed his mother's breasts one more time, smiled and turned his hands inward, slipping his fingers under the lace bodice and began to pull. The sound of the silk and lace gown tearing startled Claire. Tears ran down her cheeks as the ruined gown flowed to the floor joining her robe as she stood topless before her son.

For several seconds the world seemed to stand still for Claire. The mature mother found herself completely unable to do anything other than stare down at her near nakedness in disbelief while her son calmly continued her disrobing.

Thomas maintained his display of authority over his mother as he placed his hands on each side of her matronly hips and took hold of her high waisted ivory lace panties and dropped to one knee.

Claire's milky white skin again turned crimson red and she began to gently weep as her son stared at her panty covered vagina, never before being on such display to the young man. Staring at several stray red pubic hairs that stuck out the sides, the discoloration of his mother's panties told its own story. Thomas did not hesitate as he brought his nose to her vulva and inhaled, taking in her scent. The panties the mature woman wore came up to her waist and appeared to have an elasticated panel to hold the swell of her soft stomach in.

The young son then slipped the lace material over her matronly hips and down her legs. When the panties finally reached the floor, he looked the hairy vagina over and snickered to himself. All the young girls he messed with were clean shaven. The young son then looked up at his mother, cocked his head to the side and waited. He surmised correctly by her blushing that he was the only man, other than her husband, to see her naked.

Claire stood there in a daze, never feeling so vulnerable before in her life as she stared into her son's eyes while he waited for her to obey his unspoken command. Weeping, the stymied mother finally leaned forward, grabbed hold of her son's muscular shoulders, and lifted her right foot from the hardwood floor and stepped out of her delicate lace garment. It was done with a feeling of finality for the mature mother, the moment of capitulation. The game was over, Thomas had her, they both knew it.

Trembling, the self-conscious woman, standing before her son, wanted to crawl in a hole, agonizing over how her mature body presented itself. The aging beauty queen glanced at her breasts. After breastfeeding, and with age, they had unfortunately sagged into a teardrop going east to west, and it was only her bra these days, that made her bosom have that pushed up cleavage.

Claire sucked her stomach in. It had been a long time since it had been flat, her slightly rounded baby belly seemed to get a little more pronounced every year now. She shivered, not because she was cold, but because she was petrified, her son was going to snigger seeing her mature body. Claire was now completely naked except for a gold cross necklace as she watched her son standing up before her, holding her panties.

Young Thomas stood and brought the damp panties to his nose, and inhaled deeply as he looked over his naked mother. Then, as a wry little smile slipped across his lips he commented, "A body built for sex they kept telling me, how could I have missed it..." Looking her up and down with such hunger, it sent another shiver down Claire's spine.

Tossing the crumbled lace to the floor he took another step toward his timid mother. Thomas reached out a hand, gently removed his mother's glasses, reached back, and pulled the hair clip from her bun. Her red hair fell about her face and tumbled over her breasts. Reaching behind her neck he pushed the one side behind her back exposing her mature breast.

As this happened Claire felt something hard wet and slimy brush up against the swell of her tummy. Claire stared in disbelief as the ten-inch shaft oozed an obscene amount of precum across her belly.

The venerable mother was then disturbed by a knock at the bedroom door. "Clair, is everything okay? I thought I heard you yell?"

The panicked wife looked at the door shielding her husband from the unholy site of his faithful wife and naked son. Claire's eyes went from the door to her son, to his giant phallus and back to the door as she wiped her tears away and called out to her husband that Thomas was under the weather.

Bill said, "I can help", as the doorknob started to turn. The son stared into his mother's mesmerizing green eyes, took her left hand, and placed it on his rock-hard penis. He wrapped her dainty hand around it and stroked.

The young son then leaned in and whispered in his mother's ear, "Tell him you have it in hand..." Thomas then backed away and looked into his mother's eyes.

Tears rolled down the mature wife's eyes as she looked into the abyss and said, "No honey, go back to sleep. You have an early tee time." She looked down at the mammoth cock in her hand with her immaculately manicured fingernails varnished a deep red. She stared at her wedding ring covered in her son's pre cum and stuttered, "Umm, I have it in hand..."