Mom All I Want for Xmas Is You

All characters portrayed are over the age of eighteen.

*****

Susan continually flashed her son more than just her panties. She mindlessly or deliberately flashed him her camel toe, her pussy slit, and the darker patch of blonde pubic hair that appeared through her sheer, white panties.

Something he had always been curious about his mother doing with him, he couldn't believe they were talking about sex. They were discussing sex as if they were having sexy, pillow talk before, after, and during having sex. A forbidden topic around her before, he didn't expect her to talk about sex now. Never had she so openly talked to him about sex now.

As if she was a rose blooming in the morning light, she opened up her vulnerability to him with her private thoughts. Perhaps, no longer viewing him as an immature adolescent, with him a 22-year-old, college educated adult, she more viewed him as her equal. Perhaps, no longer thinking of him as her son, she thought of him more as a man. Perhaps, if only to imagine that she did, he imagined that she sexually wanted him as much as he sexually wanted her.

Wishing he could read her mind, he wondered why she looked at him now in a way that she never looked at him before. Was she as horny and sexually frustrated as she was lonely? Was she as horny and sexually frustrated as he was? Was she as sexually interested in him as he was sexually interested in her? He'd love nothing more than to have a sexual relationship with his mother.

By making her sexual confession of her husband, his father, spooning her while holding her naked breast and while she spooned him while holding his naked cock, was she hinting for him to make a sexual move? Did she want to sleep with him in the way that he'd love to sleep with her and in the way that she slept with her ex-husband? Unable to read her, wishing he knew her meaning, he wondered what she was thinking.

Did she want to sleep with him while he spooned her and held her naked breast in his horny hand? Did she want to sleep with him while spooning him and holding his naked cock in her soft, warm, motherly hand? He'd love nothing more than to hold his mother's naked breast in his hand while she held his naked cock in her hand. If only to hold her, hug her, and comfort her while spooning her, his sexual fantasy come true, he'd love to sleep in the same bed with his mother.

Nothing more than speculation and supposition, unable to read her thoughts, he couldn't help but wonder if she wanted him to sexually replace his father in the way that he wanted to sexually replace his father. Was the look she had given him inviting him to sleep with her, to hold her, to comfort her, and to spoon her? Was the look she had given him an invitation for him to give her sex or was her look just an innocent look, a lonely look, a sad look, and not an incestuous one? Curious to know, he didn't know. He had no idea. He couldn't tell.

# # #

A first step in their incestuous, sexual relationship, he'd love nothing more than for her to invite him to sleep with her in her bed. After she told him what her father did with her, he'd love nothing more than to spoon his mother while holding her naked breast in his hand. He'd love nothing more than to sexually excite her while fingering her nipple and perhaps even fingering her pussy. He'd love nothing more than to feel her naked ass, squeeze her naked ass, and hump her naked ass.

After she told him what she did with his father, he'd love nothing more than for his mother to hold his naked cock in her hand while spooning him. He'd love nothing more than for her to slowly and lovingly stroke him in the way that he'd love to finger her. He'd love nothing more than to have orgasmic sex with his mother in the way that his father had orgasmic sex with her. He wished he could be her generous lover in the way she confessed that his father was her generous lover.

Now that she shared her personal, private, and sexual feelings with him, he wanted to share his personal, private, and sexual feelings with her too. Yet, with him an immature, horny, incestuous man and her a mature, morally modest, and God-fearing MILF of a mother, he feared that he'd go too far in his sexual confessions. He feared that he'd include all of the incestuous, sexual things that he wanted to do to her. He feared that he'd confess that he wanted to have sex with her. He feared he'd make a fool of himself.

Not wanting to ruin this opportunity to have sex with her, with his terminal horniness always in the way, if this was indeed what it was, the first step to an incestuous, sexual chance, he needed to take it slow. Chances are, if he rushed his sexual seduction of his mother, she'd shy away. Chances are, if he moved too fast, she'd never agree to have sex with him. First things first, he needed her to consume more champagne for her to lose her modesty and her morals as well as her sexual inhibitions. He needed her to drink more champagne for her to have sex with him.

I'm so horny he wanted to say but not wanting to ruin their moment of honest and open sexual dialogue, he didn't dare say what he was thinking and how he was feeling. Besides, this mother and son moment of sexual confessions was more about her than it was about him. With their ages as much an issue as their mother and son relationship was forbidden, navigating through uncharted waters, there was an uncomfortable silence between a forty-year-old mother and her twenty-two-year-old son. If their ages weren't a gap too wide to bridge, because they were mother and son sexually lusting over one another could either be the road to their relationship ruination or the road to sexual their salvation.

Then, again, with him hopefully wanting to have sex with her, he could be misreading his mother's loneliness to his sexual benefit. Just because he sexually wanted her didn't mean that she sexually wanted him too. Just because he was horny and sexually frustrated didn't mean that she was horny and sexually frustrated too. Just because he would freely have incestuous sex with his mother didn't mean that she'd willingly have forbidden sex with her son. Just because she stayed to watch him have sex with himself while she sexually touched herself, doesn't necessarily mean that she wanted to have sex with him.

Again, maybe just wishful thinking on his part and/or a figment of his overactive, incestuous imagination but, because of all her up-skirts and down-blouse flashes, James couldn't help but suspect that his mother was deliberately flashing him. In the way that he always did when he imagined flashing her and her flashing him, if she was deliberately flashing him, he suspected that she received some titillating fun sexually teasing him. Sexual, sexy, seductive, and flirtatious innocent fun, he knew that she sometimes played him in the way that she sometimes played his father to get whatever she wanted.

Only, he didn't care that she sometimes used him. As long as he got what he wanted too, enough up-skirt peeks of her panties and down-blouse views of her cleavage and bra for him to masturbate over later, he was happy. Seeing as much of his mother's sexy and shapely body enabled him to better imagine what she'd look like topless and/or naked. Seeing as much of her sexy and shapely body helped him to better imagine what it would feel like to have sex with her.

If nothing more than a harmless sexual fantasy, and as long as his mother didn't catch him staring and leering, and as long as he didn't touch her, there was nothing wrong with him looking at whatever she was showing. As long as he didn't act on his incestuous, sexual desires, there was nothing wrong with him masturbating over the thoughts of his mother naked while having sex with him. Only, he wanted to more than just to look, stare, and leer at all that he could see of his mother and all that he imagined seeing of her while masturbating himself.

Taking his incestuous perversity a step more by justifying his inappropriate, sexual actions, as long as his mother willingly watched him masturbating himself while sexually touching herself, there was nothing wrong with him exposing his cock to his mother. As long as she willingly watched him stroking himself while calling out her name, there was nothing wrong with him masturbating in front of her and/or over her. As long as she stayed to stare at him masturbating himself while she masturbated herself too, there was nothing wrong with him ejaculating his cum in front of her.

James watched his mother fidget with her champagne glass as if she was rubbing off a water spot with her thumb. In the way that she was so focused on rubbing her champagne glass, he couldn't help but imagine her sliding her long, manicured fingers over the head of his naked prick while rubbing him to an erection. Killing two birds with one stone, her loneliness and his horniness, albeit suddenly thinking better of it, he wondered how she'd take what he was about to say next.

Only, how dare he sexually solicit his mother under the guise of helping her ease her sadness and erase her loneliness? What's wrong with him to take sexual advantage of his mother while she had been drinking and was obviously feeling so depressingly sad and vulnerably lonely? What kind of son would he be to sexually take advantage of his mother by propositioning her on Christmas Eve when he knew she was so defenseless? Only, not wanting to miss an opportunity to have sex with his mother, he couldn't help himself from speaking his mind.

Especially with her bringing up the issue of missing his father holding her, comforting her, cuddling, and spooning her, this may be the best chance he'd ever have to sleep with his mother. With her mentioning his father holding her naked breast while spooning her one way and her holding his naked cock while spooning him the other way, he'd be a fool not to respond in kind to her sexual confession. If nothing more than testing the incestuous, sexual water, while hoping she did, he needed to know if his mother sexually felt the same way about him that he sexually felt about her.

He took another sip of his champagne while imagining spooning her and holding her naked breast. He swallowed his champagne in the way that he swallowed his horniness while thinking of her spooning him and holding his naked prick. The two glasses of champagne that he consumed gave him the courage that he needed to blurt out his true feelings for her. The two glasses of champagne that he consumed loosened his tongue enough to solicit her for incestuous sex.

Disrupting his train of thought, and stopping him from saying what he was thinking, she did something that made his decision to proposition her an easy one. With her working on her third glass of champagne, she put her champagne glass down to play with the hem of her short skirt as if there was an imaginary spot there too. When she lifted the hem of her skirt to nervously fidget with it, she exposed the front of her panties. He couldn't believe all that he was seeing of his mother. She caused him to briefly forget what he was intent on asking her.

With her feet on the floor and her knees closed tightly together as if cemented in place, when she lifted the hem of her skirt, she rewarded him with a continual flash of her bright, white, bikini panties. Never tiring of seeing his mother's bright, white panties, he couldn't believe all that he was seeing of his mother with her fidgeting with the hem of her skirt. As if she was unaware that she was flashing him her panty clad cunt, she acted as if she forgot that he was sitting across from her. She raised her skirt high enough and long enough for him to have a continual, constant, and uninterrupted view of her panties.

'Oh, my God,' he thought while staring between his mother's shapely thighs. 'Are you kidding me? What in the Hell is she doing? I don't believe this. Is she deliberately exposing herself to me? If she is, I'd do anything to finger her pussy, lick her pussy, make love to her pussy, and to fuck her pussy,' he thought with abject horniness while staring at his mother's panties.

As if she was pantiless, and too bad she wasn't, her panties were so sheer and so snug. With her sitting on the edge of her seat, he not only saw the shadow of blonde patch of trimmed pubic hair but also, he saw her camel toe and her pussy slit. Other than teasing him and sexually driving him mad with incestuous desire by continuing flashing him her panties, what was she doing by exposing her panties to him in that obvious, seductive way?

Did she know she was flashing him her panties along with the outline of her pubic hair and pussy slit? Did she forget that he was sitting across from her? Was she already too drunk to know what she was doing? Pussy for prick, in the way that she was flashing him her panty clad pussy, he wanted to flash his mother his erect, naked cock. In the way that he wanted to finger, lick, and fuck his mother's pussy, he wanted his mother to stroke, suck, and fuck his prick.

Now with her being so obvious in her exhibitionistic intention, he couldn't help but believe that she was deliberately flashing him her panty clad cunt. As her way of sexually teasing him, was she incestuously seducing him? Was she unaware that he could see much more than the triangular patch of her panties over her shapely thighs that she customarily flashed him and that he routinely saw? Perhaps she was still horny from this morning and in the way that he exposed his naked prick to her while stroking his erect cock, she was returning the favor by flashing him her panties now.

Then, when catching him looking albeit with him unembarrassed and unashamed that she caught him staring between her legs at her panties, she fluffed down her short skirt and crossed her legs again. Nonetheless, his mother now knows that he saw her panties. His mother now knows that he's sexually interested. His mother now knows that he's more than sexually attracted to her in the way that he hopes she was sexually attracted to him.

'Wow. I'll be masturbating over this tonight,' he thought while smiling at his mother as if his smile was his thanks for her flashing him her panties. 'I love my mother's panties. I'll be masturbating over fingering her through her panties while licking her through her panties.'

Now with her panty clad pussy filling his mind and adding more fuel to his incestuous horniness, still not knowing for sure and giving his morally modest mother the benefit of the doubt, he wondered if she deliberately flashed him? Unable to tell, he wondered if she was she deliberately, sexually teasing him? With her skirt so short and her panties so sheer, how could she not know she just flashed him her panty clad pussy? Just as he couldn't shake the image of her panties and her pussy, he couldn't shake the image of him sleeping with his mother while having sex with her.

After she told him how she slept with his father, he couldn't stop thinking about lying beside his mother while holding her, comforting her, cuddling her, and spooning her. He couldn't stop thinking about him holding her naked breast in his hand when he spooned her one way and her holding his naked cock in her hand when she spooned him the other way. If only she'd sleep with him, he'd jump at the chance to sleep with her.

Perhaps, different for a mother than it was for a son to cross the incestuous line, in the way that he sexually thought about her, he wondered if she sexually thought about him. He was tired of wondering if she was deliberately flashing him or unintentionally flashing him. He was tired of wondering what his mother was thinking. He needed to know if she felt the same sexual way about him as he felt about her. Going for broke by taking a chance, not wanting to regret this moment as a lost opportunity to sleep with his mother, he blurted out what he needed to say.

# # #

"I'll sleep with you Mom," he said revealing and reinforcing the incestuous lust that he had for his mother by blurting out what he was thinking.

While watching for her reaction to what he had just said, he imagined sleeping in the same bed with his mother. As if someone else had said what he just said, he looked at her stunned by his own words and by the forbidden image he had of sleeping with her. Just like the story he read, Mother Sleeps with Son on Christmas, appropriately changed in his mind to Son Sleeps with Mother on Christmas Eve, he couldn't believe there was a chance of him sleeping with his mother. He'd hope she'd take him up on his offer to sleep with her.

'How hot would that be to sleep in the same bed with my mother?' He thought. 'How hot would take be to spoon her while feeling her breast and fingering her nipple? How hot would that be for my mother to spoon me while holding my prick in her hand?'

If only she'd sleep with him, he'd sleep with her. Not even expecting her to ask him to hold her naked breast while she held his naked prick, he'd be content just to sleep in the same bed with her. He wouldn't even touch her, other than to hold her, cuddle her, spoon her, and comfort her. He just wanted her to feel the heat of his body as she finally peacefully slept. He just wanted to hear her breathing while he slept next to her.

Only, turning his innocent offer sexual, without a doubt, if his body was pressed up against his mother's ass while he held her, he'd have a throbbing and pulsating erection. No doubt, with her nightgown climbing to above her waist during the night, he'd want to do much more than just sleep with her. He'd want to feel her naked ass. He'd want to explore her naked pussy. He'd want to remove his engorge prick from his pajama bottoms and rub his naked self against his naked mother.

Now totally exposed in his lust for her while waiting for her reactionary response, not daring to push his luck by adding anything more to what he had said, he left his statement out there for her interpretation and comment. He couldn't be anymore plain in his obvious sexual intentions than to volunteer to sleep with his mother. Yet, the time waiting for her to respond seemed like minutes instead of seconds. More than curious but sexually excited, he wondered how she'd respond to what he said. He wondered if she'd allow him to sleep with her.

A flood of thoughts ran through his horny brain. Would she say no or would she say yes to his offer to sleep with her? Would she be offended by his offer to sleep with her or would she be flattered that he'd want to share her bed? Either she'd reject him or welcome him in her bed. With her silence so disconcerting, he wondered what she was thinking. He wondered what she'd say in return to his bold offer.

As if she didn't hear him, as if she wasn't even in the room, there was no reaction to his offer to sleep with her, just silence, that is until his words finally penetrated her alcohol pickled and preoccupied brain. Then, giving him a curious look, she looked at him shocked as if she had just heard what he had said. Then, much like father like son, looking at him as she never looked at him before, she looked at him as if he was her husband reincarnated in the image of her son. Much more than that, she looked at him as if he wasn't her son but a man. She looked at him as if she was considering his offer to sleep with her.

'Oh, boy, this is it. This is really it. Here we go,' he thought. 'Will she sleep with me or not?'

He played his hand. Now, the ball is in her court. Does she sexually want him or does she not sexually want him?

'She wants me or she wants me not,' he thought as if he was removing the pedals from a flower. 'I did all that I could do and say to show my mother how I sexually feel about her by even allowing her to catch me masturbating and cumming while calling out her name. If that wasn't bad enough, I just offered to sleep with her. What's wrong with me?'