How I Had Sex with My Mother

We'd been in lockdown for almost a month.

My mom. Me. In our house. Sans my dad.

He'd been away on business, with my older sister, and they'd gotten trapped in Phoenix. Leaving me all alone with my mom.

Which was just fine with me- given that my mom is fucking HOT!

Damn right she's hot. Even if she's 48, twice my age. But so far she's been winning the battle against Father Time. She really has kept herself in perfect shape all these years.

Mere words don't do her beauty justice. However, I will attempt to paint a picture, an outline, to portray an idea of this goddess, this striking woman, who I believe to be the most gorgeous female ever...

My mother has clear, creamy alabaster skin, and curly, shoulder-length blond hair framing her oval face, and big bulging bright blue eyes that are simply ravishing and accented exquisitely by her various violet and blue eyeshadows, generous dabs of mascara. She's one of those ladies who puts on makeup, even around the house, even wearing lipsticks and lip glosses too.

And those lips... I love her lustrous lips. Just, wow. Her full, pouty, strawberry lips, lips that simply shine and sparkle like sunshine shimmering on diamonds.

I've lost count of how many times I've fantasized about kissing her, what it'd be like to touch my lips to hers. How I'd caress her hourglass body as our tongues met...

Speaking of her form, her figure is practically flawless. She's got the most succulent, shapely body, with her taut tummy, and tight C-cup tits that lift, upturn and bounce and twitch in all the right ways. And her legs, oh, her toned legs. She's got these statuesque legs that go on for miles and lead happily up to her best feature. Her ass.

I could go on forever about her ass. Its perfect spherical shape. Its perfect size. The way it fills out any pair of pants or dress she wears. There isn't an artist in the world able to paint a more picturesque posterior.

In addition to her looks, I appreciate her personality too, how she's easygoing, laughs in girly, staccato bursts, covers her mouth with her hand sometimes as she giggles. It seems like she's always smiling, and honestly, I'd posit that she possesses the prettiest smile in the world. Really, I've never seen a smile quite like it. It's a wry, tight-lipped smile, the curve of which warms my soul.

Like I said, she is hot. HOT.

Fucking hot.

And she knows it too. She knows how hot she is. After college, she'd worked as an actress/model and was featured in an advertisement for my dad's law firm, which is how my parents met...

Unlike some homemakers, she's never "let herself go" and has worked to maintain her looks with her rigid diet and daily trips to the gym, yoga.

Thank goodness for that yoga, too. Because of that, she's taken in recent years to wearing, nearly every day, what's also the best fashion trend in recent years, yoga pants.

Fuck, those yoga pants she wears. How they hug her hips, gloriously display every inch of her heavenly ass's contours. The way her curvy apple cheeks shift, wiggle and jiggle in those pants as she prances around the house. It's magical.

So, when the lockdown started, and I was forced to be alone with her, for who knows how long, I can't say I was too bothered. I've been sweet on her for ages, I gotta say.

Call it gross if you want. I don't care. I want to have sex with my mom. There, I said it. And I mean it. She's hot. Why should I not want to have sex with her? Just because I popped out of her pussy? All the more reason to want to be back in there. And it's not just that she's hot, it's the taboo nature of it, how I'm not "supposed" to think about banging her, which makes it so fun and erotic to contemplate.

I've been thinking of nailing her since I can remember. I've been examining her body, especially her ass, for years. And these last couple years, since she started wearing those yoga pants, my imagination has been in overdrive, and I've been fisting my cock nearly every day, to the thought of sticking my dick, up inside her lovely creases, exploring her forbidden folds...

Okay, so you might think I'm a beta-male, just a mousy, socially stunted fuck. Maybe that I can't get pussy too easily. But that's not the case. I'm not a virgin. I've had a few girlfriends. I've gotten laid. But, seriously, to put it bluntly, no girl I've dated, and no girl I've ever even laid eyes upon, has come close to being as hot as my mom.

Of course, too, these days, dating isn't really possible, with the lockdown. I'd been chatting online with a chick from another part of town, but that's going nowhere fast, with the plague and all. And really, it's been hard, ever since I graduated college, trying to meet chicks, since I'm living at home, working for my dad's company.

Not that it's a hardship post or anything, working for my dad. My dad, the wily old cagey fuck, is cool as hell. He's a hotshot corporate lawyer who started his own law firm, bagged a bunch of high-flying clients, started bringing in Brinks trucks, fucking boatloads of cash about a decade ago.

After I graduated college, he hired me on as an IT specialist. Not that I'm unqualified, either. Computer stuff is what I do best. I'd been helping run the company's website for a while anyway, to pitch in and do my part, and once I was ready to enter the workforce, Pops wanted to have me on his team, help the firm deal with computer, network issues at the office.

Yeah, yeah, I mean, look, I was apprehensive about working for Pops, not fond of being hired due to nepotism, but he made me an offer that was "too good to refuse." More zeros than I'd see at any other company. So I took it. And, partially to save money for a down payment on a place of my own, I stayed living at home.

We've got a mansion, so it's not like we haven't got the space.

I'll admit, though, partially I've stayed at home so I can be with my mom. If anything just to bask in her beautiful presence. I figured she could use some company too. Especially since, nowadays, my dad and my older sister are always away on business trips.

Those two, my pops and sis, they have definitely been with each other a lot, and seem to be getting closer. A lot closer.

Perhaps, I suspect, too close.

Like I said, I'm not a beta, and I'm not a stereotypical scrawny gamer or a chubby computer guy. But I do love computers, coding, gaming, and tech, so it was natural for me to gravitate toward computer science as my major. Unlike some of my fellow IT folks, gamers, and techies, I keep fit. I lift weights and had joined an MMA gym, before the plague hit, and had been learning Jiu-Jitsu. Not that I'm the biggest, meanest dude, or anything, at 5'10, 175 pounds, but I'm cut, keep healthy, eat clean, and have been told, seriously, that I sort of resemble a young Leonardo DiCaprio.

Given that, I probably should be more outgoing, active in dating, but it's not my nature. I'll go out some, but I'm more into staying home, gaming, watching movies, and reading. I'm just sort of quiet, an introvert. It's my nature, I suppose, and I'm cool with that...

Returning to my sister, she's definitely not like me. At all. She takes more after my dad, is extremely aggressive, outspoken, and she followed his footsteps, into law, and joined his firm after passing the bar.

She'd quickly proven her mettle, too, in the courtroom, with her attacking style and sharp counterpoints. Her perspicacity, punctiliousness, and her assiduous attack on law books and her encyclopedic knowledge of law hushed any talk of nepotism with her, and she enjoys the full respect of everyone at the firm. Including me.

But, given her looks, like a younger version of my mom, same slender body, long blond curly hair, the same hip-swaying walk (though an ass slightly smaller and not as perfect as my mom's, in my opinion) it's just that, you know, given the amount of time she spends with my dad, I'd become suspicious of the two.

The two, over the last couple years, since she joined the firm, have become joined at the hip. They collaborate on every case he takes on. They travel together incessantly, always under the guise of "business." But I suspect otherwise. It's the way they sit together, like their bodies' distance is just slightly too close. How they smile at each other. How she's never had a boyfriend since she joined the firm.

Being a nosy fuck, and, of course, having access to all the firm's financials, I checked up on their recent business trips, and found that the two have been sharing hotel rooms on every business trip they've taken over the last year and a half!

They'd been dining together as well. I saw several bills from fancy restaurants. Not casual places to have a work meal. Nope. These were some swanky spots. Places you'd only really take a date.

I mean, I guess it could be all work-related. Dad likes to splash cash.

Once his firm started raking in millions, he got us a six-bedroom, seven-bathroom, 12,000 square-foot Tuscan-style mansion. The interior featuring a grand entranceway, sky-high ceilings, a sprawling Olympic pool out back, and dazzling views of a nearby river. The place sits on a 15-acre lot, too, which certainly helps with the social distancing...

Pops bought a series of Porsches for himself and Benzes, for Mom, me, and a Tesla for Sis, but I guess with his cash, he could have gotten an even bigger house and Ferraris or Lamborghinis, maybe a Bentley and a Rolls Royce or two...

So, looking over the expense reports, I wondered. Were Pops and Sis being frugal? Sharing hotel rooms? And were they only eating at swanky places because they could?

I don't know. And I guess I don't care. If they are fucking, hell, good for Pops. My sister is a fox. Pops and Mom have been distant, already complying with COVID restrictions, for years anyway. He's still in good shape, and he's rich, so I think that he must be getting action on the side from somewhere, very possibly my sexy sister. And, again, if he is, good for him.

But Mom, though, I can't imagine she's having any affairs. The only places she goes are to the spa, gym, and fellow housewives' houses. Somehow I don't see her doing anything illicit.

The more I thought about it, my dad off popping Viagra, fucking his own daughter, my sister, in their fancy hotel suite, the more I started to feel sorry for my mom. She was too hot to be by herself! She deserved to have her own affair. And I was thinking about the perfect person for her to have an affair with.

Me.

It's not like she doesn't know I like her. Like that.

She notices me looking. My eyes always tracking her ass like a hunting dog chasing a rabbit. And I think she enjoys it, too, the attention. Put away that I'm her son, she's got a young dude, half her age, cruising her, every day. That has to be flattering.

I've never been too subtle about staring, either, a tad too long. She'll blush a little, look away, coyly, but she's never told me to stop.

Maybe that's a good sign.

And now that I'd be locked down with her, I started to think of making a move. Trying to have sex with her. Like, really, have sex with her.

But how?

Look, unfortunately, I'm not even good at hitting on chicks my own age. Like I said, I'm not a virgin, but every girl I've been with I met online or through a friend. I'm terrible at courtship. I've never been into the whole "game" and chasing women thing. I mean, I'll do it. I'll spit game. I'll try. I'm not afraid. But normally if I'm not getting anywhere, quickly, I throw in the towel and go rub one out.

But being alone too much, suffering cabin fever, and watching my mom's ass in those yoga pants, every damn day, for a fucking month, the pressure was building. And I had to do something about it.

Perhaps...

Perhaps I just throw out some feelers, some hints, what the hell? Worst she says is no...

Recently I've been feeling different too. It's probably the meds. You see, I've long had issues with depression, anxiety, insomnia. It's hard to describe exactly what brings on the blues. Often, it's nothing at all. Just suddenly, an ugly feeling crashes over me, like a tidal wave of sadness. I feel a negativity, a pull, a weight, like an anchor dropping into a deep dark sea.

With the pandemic, it'd gotten worse, and so I decided to finally talk to a doctor about it, and he prescribed me Zoloft.

I was reticent to take it, at first, thinking I could tough the blues out, let them pass, as I've always done, but seeing such horrific images on the news, reading daily death tolls, and the overall vibe, mood, the feeling of impending doom, it was getting too much, and so I figured I should give the pills a shot.

And shit am I glad I did! Whereas others have had negative side effects, I did not. The Zoloft immediately went to work, and I had an instant bump up in my mood, and within a couple of weeks, my depression was significantly lessened, to the point that I didn't really notice it. Like before my depression was a vampire biting and sucking at my neck, but now it's more like a painting on the wall, there but merely an inanimate object, an idea, a thing in the background. It's no longer a harmful, blood-sucking monster.

I'd also begun feeling less fearful since taking the Zoloft. Like before, I'd have inhibitions, I'd question myself, but after starting the Zoloft, that fear dissipated. Before I might have never considered making a move on my mom, I'd only jerk off thinking about doing so, but now, I was ready to try, for real, to be with her, sexually, romantically, and I was not afraid to try.

Best of all, too, the Zoloft hadn't caused me any sexual dysfunctions. I'd read about some getting ED from it, but not me. In fact, it prolonged my jerk off sessions. Not unbearably so, either, like others, who've said it makes it so they can't cum. Instead, for me, it just allowed me to go for five or so extra minutes, which is cool, since I enjoy jerking off, and is doubly cool in that I can imagine the extra power it'll allow me in the sack.

My confidence had been rising ever since I started the Zoloft. Along with my ever-increasing volume of thoughts about my mom. Watching her ass in those yoga pants every day, like I said, it was getting to me.

Being locked down, too, it was getting to me.

And not having gotten laid in ages, it was getting to me.

And, as you can probably guess, it was getting time to do something about all that.

I'd been more brazenly perving on my mom since the thought of really trying to have sex with her popped into my mind. It'd been seeming to me that she likes the attention, too, which might mean the interest was mutual, so, one windy night, while looking at MILF porn and reading incest stories online, I made up my mind, and I decided to see how far I could take things. To see if maybe I really could have sex with her!

The next morning, I woke up early, trekked down the white marble steps of the double staircase, and made my way to the kitchen. After preparing breakfast, I sat at the kitchen table, sipping strong coffee, staring out the windows, watching the spongy morning sky.

It'd already started to drizzle, and the plum-colored clouds were fat with impending rains. A pelican glided by, outstretching its wings, hovering for a moment before landing on the ridge next to the river. Choppy, blue-green tides were rolling in over the rocky river shore. Then a fine mist of condensation began to collect over the kitchen windows.

These sorts of overcast days, when the whole sky was gray as a prison wall, these sorts of days would affect my mood, sometimes, drag me down, but when my mom entered the room, it was like the gloomy clouds had parted, and all I could see was sunshine...

My mom arrived at the usual time, 8:15 a.m. She wore a skimpy red tank top that flaunted her toned midriff, and her hair was tied into a tangly bun.

As she walked her usual hip-swaying walk, in through the kitchen's arched doorway, I was elated to lower my gaze and witness her wearing a pair of scorching hot yoga pants. That morning it was the coal black, high-waisted pair of yoga pants. Those are my favorite, I think, because of how they curve, blend, and hug her ass into a juicy, perfect heart shape.

In the past, I'd been stealing glances, but never had the guts to say anything to my mom about her looks. The words just hanging on my tongue or stuck to the roof of my mouth. But that wasn't going to happen anymore.

I mean, why not? Why not send a compliment her way? Aside from it not being a normal thing for a son to compliment his mother on, it is well... polite, kind of, right? Why not let her know someone appreciates her incredible figure...

And so I did.

"Morning, Mom..."

"Morning, honey," smiled my mom, slinking into the kitchen and raising the temperature in the room by 10 or so degrees, due simply to her stunning presence.

She sauntered by me, as I was seated at the kitchen table, drinking coffee and chomping on my Cinnamon Toast Crunch, and I paused between bites and drank in the heavenly sight of her ass shifting and jiggling in those super-tight pants.

"Whoever invented yoga pants should win a Nobel Prize..." I blurted out, the words just spilling from my lips. That wasn't the compliment I meant to give.

"What?" my mom quizzed, her eyebrows raising and her voice rising an octave on the syllable, and when she turned to meet my gaze, a nervous smile stretched over her face.

My inner-bitch told me to walk it back. Make up a lie. Deflect. Run.

But no. I wasn't going to be that guy anymore.

I doubled down.

"Mom, you are gorgeous. Your figure is perfect. I love how you look in those pants, how they accent your curves," I told her, my eyes sweeping up and down her body.

Mom blushed. Then shook her head, shifted her gaze away and replied that I "should stop," because "I was only being nice."

"I'm old," grumbled Mom, hanging her head and turning toward the sink, staring glumly at the morning rain that'd picked up and begun to lash at the window.

Probably in her mind, she'd turned away in embarrassment, sadness, upset because she didn't feel beautiful, but that thousand-watt supermodel smile she'd flashed me, mere seconds ago, followed by that immaculate ass... When she turned her back... Just... Wow... Her ass looked so perfect. So round. So firm. So well-proportioned. I could even make out the edges and pattern of her slip panties underneath the tight grip of the fabric.

"No way," I assured her, lifting to my feet, and sauntering over to her, "You look perfect, practically flawless, front and back."

Walking her way, I felt strong, like a predator after prey. She swung her gaze from the window to me and saw me moving toward her, my eyes firmly locked on her ass.

Blushing, red as a tomato, she replied, "What has gotten into you this morning?" before she quickly and furtively looked away, padded over toward the coffeemaker, pressing her finger at its touchscreen.

Standing in front of the coffeemaker, she waited for her coffee to brew. The machine was whirring, steaming, and juddering, filling the kitchen with its intoxicating aroma.

I impulsively decided to take things to another level. I wanted to see how far I could push the envelope...

The coffeemaker is in an alcove in the kitchen and Mom was standing directly in front of it. Creeping closer toward her, I thought she might move, step away, like a matador, or maybe look back at me scornfully, but she did none of those things. She stood firmly rooted, didn't budge. Didn't speak. Just stood silent, watching the coffee maker hum.

I kept approaching, until I was directly behind her behind. Oh, it was incredible, standing mere inches from her. Her amazing ass just inches from the gathering steam of my stiffening dick. Her smell of flowery shampoo wafting, delightfully, up my nostrils, and I felt like a character, in an old cartoon, enraptured, floating up through the air, up toward a hot apple pie sitting out on a windowsill.