A son buys his mom a sexy, red nightgown for Valentine's Day.
Like most grateful children, I love my mother. Maybe I love my Mom a little more because I'm an only child and she's a single mom. In hindsight, maybe I loved my Mom too much. What happened between my Mom and I went beyond the acceptable norms between a mother and a son.
I'd never tell anyone what happened, as I'm not proud of what we did. Based on the distinct, separate, and expected roles of a mother and her son, I know it was wrong of us to do what we did. Yet, if I could turn back time and relive that part of my life, I'd still have sex with my Mom. It was a beautiful experience and I don't regret having sexual relations with my mother.
It all started Valentine's Day. Every year I buy my Mom the same Valentine's Day gifts, a dozen roses and a box of chocolates. Only, this year, I was thinking more with my penis than I was with my commonsense. Unfortunately, I didn't know my penis had taken control of my brain. I bought my Mom a sexy nightgown from Victoria's Secrets. At the time, I didn't realize I was buying it for her but, in retrospect, I was and I did.
I crossed the line by buying such an intimately personal gift. I wasn't thinking straight. I had just broken up with my girlfriend and every year for the past three years, I buy my girlfriend a little sexy something from Victoria's Secrets. So, there I was at the Mall to buy my Mom a Happy Valentine's Day card, when I found myself standing in front of the sexy lingerie store and staring in the window at the display of red panties, bras, corsets, bustiers, and nightgowns. Their window display for Valentine's Day is always enticing and enthralling.
I don't know, maybe I missed buying something sexy for my honey. Maybe I enjoyed and missed the personal and attentive service the saleswomen paid me. Maybe, I just enjoyed perusing the sexy lingerie. Yet, for whatever reason, there I was looking at the nightgowns and imagining my Mom wearing it.
At first, without a doubt, my intentions were honorable, that is, until I imagined seeing my Mom modeling what I bought her. Wow. Still, it was about time that someone did something nice for her. She works hard. She works two jobs to make ends meet, while helping to put me through state college. I help out when I can, but there are only so many employment opportunities open to a full-time student.
I don't know what it is about red but it's like I'm a bull whenever I see that vibrant color. I love red, not so much for me, but on a woman. I mean, I'd never buy a red shirt or a red car, but I'd be attracted to a woman who wore a red dress or drove a red car, a red convertible, with big, bright headlights, if you know what I mean. Weird, huh?
Anyway, I was shopping in the store looking through the nightgowns and imagining Amy, my ex-girlfriend, who I still miss, wearing something red, when I saw this absolutely gorgeous red nightgown. Wow. It was short, low-cut, slit up to here, and cut down to there. Imagining the woman I'd give it to, I had to buy it.
At the time, I wasn't thinking of my Mom wearing it, really. I just knew that I needed to buy it. It was, by far, the most sexiest nightgown I've ever seen.
It was expensive, but I had just received a credit card in the mail. Yeah, I know, here we go with the credit card debt, but this was a luxury that I just couldn't afford to miss. Maybe, I thought, I'd save it for my next girlfriend and give it to her next Valentine's Day, so long as she took a size 6.
Coincidentally, my Mom takes a size 6. Maybe I knew that subconsciously at the time, maybe I didn't. I don't know. Whatever.
I bought it for whatever reason because I loved it, no doubt. It made me feel good. I bought it, I just bought it. It made me so happy to buy it, so I did. As soon as I bought it, I didn't feel so alone and lonely any more.
It was as if I was drunk with testosterone and the color red was my devil of temptation that made me buy it. Call it fate or kismet, but the nightgown was the catalyst to me having sex with my Mom. Blame it on the nightgown, if you must, only, I had no idea of that at the time. I was just missing my girlfriend.
Once I had the nightgown in hand, I remember walking out of the store, as if I was taller. I was so excited about my sexy, impulsive purchase. I walked around the corner to the card shop and bought Valentine's Day wrapping paper, one that was kind of sappy, with hearts and flowers. Then, I bought a funny, but sentimental card for my Mom. Even then, I didn't put the both of them together. I thought of the card and the nightgown as separate gifts for two different people.
I really didn't realize that I had bought the nightgown for my Mom. I didn't know that I was going to give it to her. Certainly, I wasn't thinking of my Mom in that way, at the time, sexually and lustfully, but I was. I may have had a fleeting thought about my Mom, but certainly, it wasn't my intention to go to Victoria's Secrets to buy my mom a sexy, red nightgown for Valentine's Day.
I continued my shopping and while walking through the Mall, I couldn't take my mind off of that sexy, red nightgown. Since I had already bought the nightgown, I forgot that I was there to buy my Mom something different, something other than chocolates and flowers. Yet, there I was again, buying another heart shaped box of chocolates and another dozen roses. So preoccupied with that nightgown, that skimpy piece of lingerie had put me on automatic pilot. I wasn't thinking of anything but that damn nightgown.
My Mom was still at work when I got home. She's never home. She's always working and she's always working late to make some extra overtime money. I never know when to expect her home.
I put the roses in water, filled out the Valentine's card I bought her, and put the chocolates on the living room coffee table, along with the flowers and Valentine's Day card. Then, I went in my room and closed the door. I don't know why I closed the door, since I was the only one home, but I did. In hindsight, obviously, I was feeling guilty over something, embarrassed perhaps, for buying the nightgown and over my incestuous feelings towards my mother, which at that point hadn't yet manifested, only surfaced.
I took out the nightgown and it was beautiful, so sexy. Made of silk, satin, and lace, it just felt so luxurious. It made me excited just to touch it and to feel it, while imagining the sexy woman I'd give this to wear it.
I had bought some nightgowns for my girlfriend in the past that after washing them a few times, they'd fall apart. Not this one. This one wasn't made in China, Bangladesh, or Sri Lanka. This beautiful garment was made in Milan, Italy. Imported from the city of fashion design, right up there with Paris, France, the workmanship and detail of the garment was extraordinary.
An old movie buff, I imagined Sophia Loren or Gina Lollobrigida or Claudia Cardinale wearing such a creation. As soon as I imagine one of those women wearing this nightgown, I was horny. As soon as I was horny, I thought of my Mom.
Carefully, lovingly, knowing that whoever I gave this sexy nightgown to, the woman of my dreams, I'd be having hot sex with her, while they wore this nightgown. From a simple piece of red material, in my eyes, it had become magical, alive almost. I tried to imagine the size 6 woman who would wear my Valentine's gift. A blonde with blue eyes and big tits or a redhead with green eyes and big tits or a brunette with brown eyes and big tits.
Even then, not for a minute, did I consciously imagine my Mom filling out this nightgown with her big tits. Only, sub-consciously, my penis had other ideas. My penis, I dare say, knew the woman I wanted and, obviously, I wanted my Mom.
Carefully, I lined the gift box I bought with red tissue paper and removed the price tag from the nightgown with scissors, instead of my usual way of just pulling off the tag. I didn't want to take the chance of ripping the material. As if putting her to bed for the night, as if she was Sleeping Beauty, as if she was my girlfriend and my lover, lovingly, I carefully and neatly folded the nightgown, and gently laid it in the box. Even there in the box, it was so exquisitely beautiful. Then, I wrapped it in the Valentine's Day paper I bought and slid the box under my bed.
Then, something unexpectedly weird happened. As if turning off the light in my room coincided with the excitement that I felt buying this nightgown, much like blowing out the candles of my birthday cake after making a wish and everyone having sung me happy birthday, it was over. Even after I walked out of my room and continued with my day, I couldn't help but think of that red nightgown in that gift wrapped box beneath my bed. It took all the self-control that I had not to go in my room, grab it from under the bed, rip open the box, and take out the nightgown to look at it, touch it, hold it, and imagine the woman wearing it.
What is wrong with me? God, I'm so lonely. I'm so horny. I'm so pathetic. Do I miss my girlfriend that much? She was such a bitch. She cheated on me. She doesn't deserve such devotion.
Only, the romantic fool that I am and always will be, this is Valentine's Day and to be alone without someone to tell her that I love her, and to hear her say in return that she loves me, is what I miss. I've always had a girlfriend, someone to buy a Valentine's Day card and a gift and to receive a kiss, a hug, and sex in return, but not this year. This year, I'm alone, lonely, horny, and buying a nightgown and having no one to give it to as a Valentine's Day gift. I'm pathetic. I'm such a loser.
Much like in the way of hiding a deflated blowup doll in my closet, the happiness that I felt buying that nightgown suddenly ended when I slid it under my bed and now I was sad, depressed, actually. I had no one to tell that I loved her. I had no one to hold and to kiss and to touch. I had no one to give the nightgown. There was only my Mother.
"I love you, Mommy."
She's the only woman in my life right now that I can say that to with as much certainty and as much sincerity in knowing that she loves me, too. Only, it's not the same. She's my mother, my Mom, and I'm her son, her baby. She's certainly not my sweetheart. She'd never be my lover. I may think about it, when alone, lonely, and horny with my hand around my penis, but I could never have sex with my Mom. It would just be so wrong to do that.
It was then that I thought of my Mom wearing the nightgown that I bought and when I thought of her sliding that sexy, red nightgown over her naked, shapely body, I touched myself. I couldn't help but touch myself and the more I touched myself, the more I thought about my Mom wearing that nightgown. Horny to begin with after thinking of Sophia Loren, Gina Lollobrigida or Claudia Cardinale wearing that sexy, Italian, red nightgown, thinking of my Mom wearing it made me want to masturbate, while imagining her modeling the nightgown for me, something she'd never do. I thought of a Frederick Fellini movie where everything is in black and white, but for the red nightgown. Wow.
