Mom Strips Naed for Neighbor

The perfect, incestuous scenario, Mom is a closet exhibitionist and her son is a typical voyeur.

Johnny didn't know that his 46-year-old mother, Jennifer, was an exhibitionist. That's the last thing he'd ever think his mother was. Having never seen as much as her bra strap, with her never flashing him up skirts and nightgowns and/or down blouses and down nightgowns how would he know she enjoyed flashing her sexy, shapely body to unsuspecting men? With him thinking of her as just his loving Mom, he had no idea his mother was so sexy and as sexual.

As does most young, adult men his age, while masturbating, he had imagined his Mom naked and having sex with him. What horny man doesn't imagine having sex with his mother, especially a mother who was so sexy, shapely, and beautiful. Accustomed to being around her when he wasn't mesmerized by her, most days, he just thought of her as his Mom. Most days, thinking of her as a non-sexual being, he never would have guessed that his mother was so sexual, so horny, and so sexually frustrated. Who knew? Surely, he didn't.

If only he knew, his sexual fantasy come true, he had no idea his mother enjoyed showing her underwear clad, topless, and naked body to unsuspecting men. If only he knew, his sexual fantasy come true, maybe his mother would flash him her underwear clad, topless, and naked body too. If only for masturbation fodder, he'd love to see some part, any part of his mother's body that he was forbidden to see. If only he knew, maybe his mother would shock him by even having sex with him. A shocking surprise to him, he didn't know his mother had been flashing their 65-year-old next door neighbor, Bob, while masturbating herself until he saw her striptease and masturbation show with his own eyes.

'Oh, my God. I don't believe what I'm seeing,' he thought when he saw his mother standing naked at her unshaded, bedroom window.

# # # Lady of Erotica # # #

It all started one Saturday night, early Sunday morning actually, when he was out partying. At his age, that's what he did. He worked all week, drank Saturday night, picked up a woman to fuck and to get sucked, and stayed overnight at their place. Accustomed to him having weekly sex with women he met at the bar, his mother knew not to expect him home until Sunday for breakfast or for lunch.

Yet, not everything goes as planned. Hoping to get lucky, tonight was not his night. Too drunk to drive home, a good night for a walk, the night air felt good. Walking straight now, he was starting to sober up. The best thing he did was to leave his car behind in the parking lot. The last thing he wanted was to be arrested for driving under the influence of alcohol. Just a two mile walk home, he'd get his car from the parking lot of the bar later today, Sunday.

A typical, quiet night in this small town, just after 1:00 am, everything was closed and everyone was sleeping. After walking for about twenty minutes, he turned down his street. He still had a long way to go. It didn't seem as far when he was driving but it sure seemed far when he was walking home drunk.

But for the dim glow from the occasional streetlight, his street was dark and deserted. The only sound was his shoes hitting the pavement. A long street, his house was still four blocks away. The bewitching hour, this was the time that all the nocturnal creatures of the night were out, ghouls, ghosts, witches, bats, owls, rats, rabbits, opossums, and skunks. Hoping he didn't startle a skunk, he kept a watchful eye.

While walking, something he rarely did, always in his car driving everywhere he went, he thought of his mother not in a loving way but more in a sexual way. Because he didn't get laid tonight, he blamed his incestuous thoughts on his sexual frustration and horniness. Perhaps, because he didn't get lucky tonight, he was horny, horny enough to think of his mother in a forbidden, sexual way.

Compared to his friends' mothers, his Mom was so beautiful and so sexy. She was the best looking mother of them all. If there was a beauty contest for MILF's, she'd win. There was Mrs. America of course but with most mothers competing in their thirties, his Mom was 46-years-old. Still, if he didn't know she was forty-six, he'd think she was thirty-six.

She was so sexy. She was so shapely. She was so kind. Always smiling, she was so joyful. Only, so modestly moral, she was so unavailable. She was his mother after all and he was her son. Just as he'd never have sex with is mother, she'd never have sex with him either.

Yet, especially when his hand was tight around his cock, it sexually exited him to think about his mother in a sexual way. It excited him to think of his mother with her legs spread wide and her glistening, wet cunt staring him in the face. He imagined being close enough to her pussy that he could smell the musky aroma of sex.

'Oh, my God, I can just taste her,' he thought.

Something he had never considered before, it was then that he realized the reason why he had been unsuccessful in finding love. He had been looking for a woman who measured up to his mother. No woman on the planet compared to his mother. It was then that he realized that he was attracted to women who looked like her.

Running the women he bedded through his mind like a fast forward movie, he thought of all the women from his past. He could see it now. He was attracted to women who talked like her, sounded like her, and even laughed like her. Thinking about all the women he had sex with, he was attracted to women who acted like her. Attracted to women who were just as tall, just as sexy, and just as shapely, it was then that he realized he sexually wanted his mother.

'Oh, my God. I don't believe this,' he thought while walking home to his mother.

It was then he realized he needed to fuck his mother, really fuck his mother and pound her pussy. It was then he realized that he needed to have his wicked, sexual way with his mother and make her cum with his fingers, his tongue, and his big, hard cock. In was then he realized how much he wanted his mother to suck his cock. He'd give anything to feel her hand around his cock while stroking him. He'd give anything to feel the sensation of cumming in her mouth and watching her swallow his cum. Only, nothing more than a sexual fantasy, he knew he'd never have sex with his mother.

'Oh, my God. What's wrong with me? I can't believe I want to have sex with my mother,' he thought. 'That's nuts. A psychiatrist would love to get me on a couch.'

Making sense to him now, with all of the women he dated and all the women he bedded, he rejected them all because they didn't compare to his mother. Always finding something wrong with them, he rejected them all because they weren't his mother. Comparing them to his Mom, the slightest provocation ruined his relationship with them and made him return home to live with his mother.

"Oh, my God, I want my mother. I can't believe I sexually want my mother,' he thought and immediately berated himself. 'I shouldn't be having sexual thoughts about my mother. That's just wrong. That's just nasty," he said while walking with his head down, his shoulders pitched forward, and his hands dug deep in his pockets. 'It's wrong to think of her in that sexually incestuous way. Yet, if only I could see her in her bra and panty, topless, and/or naked, maybe seeing her unclothed would satisfy my sexual need to incestuously think about my mother.'

The more he chastised himself for sexually thinking about his mother, the more he realized that he wanted to have sex with his mother.

"I'm just horny. I'm just sexually frustrated. I'm just drunk. I need to sober up before going home. I don't want my mother seeing me like this sexually frustrated, horny, and with an erection as hard as a steel pipe. Besides, in the way that I'm sexually thinking about her now, God forbid I would make a pass at my Mom. She'd ask me to leave and find another place to live," he said continuing to talk to himself.

# # # Lady of Erotica # # #

Then, as if there was a light beam far off in the distance, he stared at the light while wondering what it was. It was strange to see such a bright like on such a dark street, especially at this early hour of the morning. As if it was a beacon showing him the way home or as if it was the light from an alien spaceship, he saw the glow of a bright, white light. As if he was Homer's Ulysses from his epic poems, the Iliad and the Odyssey, aboard his ship floating dangerously close to the rocks from the beck and call of sirens on shore, drawn uncontrollably to the bright, white light, he continued walking closer.

Only, as he neared closer, there was no light beam. There was no beacon showing him the way home. There wasn't a light emanating from an alien spaceship. Yet, as if he was being lit up by a spotlight, the light held his attention. While continuing to walk towards the light, as if he was a dying man on his way to Heaven, he stared in the bright, white light.

Curious what the light could be, he didn't know. He had no idea. It was so odd to see a bright, white light on a street that was so dark. As he neared closer to his home, he could see that the light was coming from his house. The light was emanating from his mother's bedroom.

'Why would his mother be up at this ungodly hour? She's always in bed by 10:00 pm. Was there something wrong? Did something happen? Is she ill? Oh, my God.'

Unable to run after drinking so much, instead he quickened his walking pace. The last thing he wanted was to be sick and puke should his mother need him to drive her to the hospital. Should she be sick, hurt, injured, or dying, he needed to have a clear head enough to call for an ambulance. Fearing the worst, if anything happened to his mother, he'd be lost. If anything happened to his mother while he was out drinking, getting drunk, and having a good time, he'd never forgive himself for not being there for her in her time of need.

'Mom, hold on. I'm coming,' he thought while trying to move inebriated legs that wouldn't move as fast as he wanted them to move.

With all of the other houses on his street dark, there was a single, bright light emanating from his mother's bedroom window. Normally with her shade pulled all the way down and her drapes tightly drawn closed, her bedroom was always dark but tonight, as if she was having a party in her bedroom, her uncovered, bedroom window glowed brightly. Sickened with worry, he never should have gone out tonight. He never should have left her alone. With her doing everything for him, he needed to do more for her. Just as he thought that he should do more for his mother, he thought about having sex with his mother.

'Oh, my God! What the fuck is wrong with me? How can I think of having incestuous sex with my mother at a time like this? Obviously, something happened. Obviously, there's something really wrong. Maybe there was a break-in. Maybe some intruder tried to hurt his mother and/or rape his mother.

'Oh, God! Oh, God! Please God, let my Mom be okay. She's all that I have,' he thought while walking faster.

# # # Lady of Erotica # # #

Lit up like a dance hall, he stared at her brightly lit, ground floor, bedroom window as if he was having at a religious vision and a mind altering experience. As he walked closer, able to see the interior of her entire bedroom, he finally saw his mother. Surprised to see her standing and walking around her bedroom, thank God, she seemingly appeared to be okay.

Then, when he saw his mother through her brightly lit window, the voyeur in him took control of wants, needs, and sexual desires. With him already so horny and sexually frustrated, he hoped to see something of her that he shouldn't see. Instead of continuing to walk closer and instead of going inside his house, he stopped when he saw his mother in the window. He watched her as if he was watching someone else's mother. He watched her as if she was standing there just for him while waiting for him to return home.

'What was she doing?'

As if she was painting or wallpapering her bedroom, why was her bedroom light on with the shade up and her drapes open? If he could clearly see her, anyone looking could see her. He looked around to see if anyone was looking and peeping on his mother but the street was dark and quiet. Obviously, everyone was sleeping. Obviously, no one was up at this hour of the early morning to see his mother in her bedroom.

Then, while standing in front of the brightly lit, unshaded window, she started to undress. She was undressing. His mother was undressing. As if she was out on the street and in public, his mother was removing her clothes. As if he was dreaming and/or having a sexual fantasy, he couldn't believe his eyes.

'Undressing? His mother was undressing. Fuck me. Oh, my God. I don't frigging believe this,' he thought. He couldn't believe his eyes. 'My Mom is removing her clothes with her bedroom light on, the shade up, and her drapes pushed back, wide open,' he thought while staring.

Everyone can see her. I can see her. With his mother's bedroom on the first floor facing the driveway, from where he stood behind a big, oak tree, he had a clear, unobstructed view of her bedroom. He could see her bed, her bureau, her mirror, and her dressing table. He could see her. He could see everything as if he was there with her in her bedroom.

'Fuck me. Oh, my God. Fuck me. Oh, my God. I don't believe this,' he thought while watching his mother removing her clothes. 'My sexual fantasy come true, this is unbelievable.'

Shocked into inaction, he wondered if he was still drunk. Not believing what he was seeing, he wondered if he was seeing things. With him so sexually attracted to his mother since he turned 18-years-old, four years ago, and when she was a 41-year-old, MILF of a mother at the time, he wondered if he was imagining her undressing. In the way he has had so very many sexual fantasies of her while masturbating himself, maybe this was just another one of his sexual fantasies. Maybe, while still drunk, he was already home in bed and dreaming of his mother undressing in her bedroom window.

'Maybe this vision of my mother undressing was nothing more than wishful thinking. Maybe this was nothing than a dream and a sad, sick, alcohol induced joke he was playing on himself,' he thought while staring at his mother standing in her bedroom window and removing her clothes. 'Oh, my God, she's so beautiful. Oh, my God, she's so sexy. I'd give anything to see my mother in her panty and bra, topless, and/or naked. I'd do anything to have sex with my mother.'

# # # Lady of Erotica # # #

With the long walk clearing the foggy haze from his head, if he wasn't feeling clear-headedly sober, he'd think he was still drunk. Not wanting to miss the impromptu striptease show, he stopped by a tree a dozen yards from his house. A good vantage point, close enough to see her and to watch her undressing but far enough away not to be noticed. It was dark, so very dark where he stood and made even darker beneath the cover of the heavily leafed branches of the old, oak tree.

As if he was an audience member in a strip club, he watched his mother unbutton her blouse one slow button at a time. Mesmerized watching his mother undress, he was hypnotized by her fingers unbuttoning the buttons of her blouse. With each unbuttoned button, he could clearly see more of his mother. First he saw the top of her meaty, white breasts. Then, he saw her long line of sexy cleavage and the front sides of her bulbous breasts. Then, something he had never seen of his mother before, now he was seeing her white, low cut brassiere. Now he was seeing her bra clad breasts. Seeing more with each unbuttoned button, never had he seen as much of his mother's sexy, shapely body.

'Oh, my God, I can't believe my eyes,' he thought while staring at his mother in the way of a peeping Tom. Throbbing and pulsating, his cock was standing straight out against his pants and straining against the fabric. Unconsciously, he began to massage the bulbous head, slowly twisting and stroking it through his pants in the way that he wished his mother would twist and stroke his cock.

Having never seen as much as her bra strap, he was seeing so much more of his mother's sexy, shapely body now. Rubbing his eyes and pinching himself to make sure that he wasn't dreaming, he watched her remove her blouse, fold it, and lay it on the bed. Then, while in her bra, his mother stood in front of her uncovered bedroom window with the bedroom light on to look out at the street. With the light so bright in her bedroom, unless she put her hand to the class, which she didn't, he was sure that she couldn't see much more than her own reflection through the window.

He couldn't believe he was seeing his mother in her sexy brassiere. With him having never seen his mother in her bra, seeing her in her bra was a big deal. He'd be masturbating over this vision of his mother in her bra for the rest of his life. He'd be masturbating over seeing her cleavage and the sides of her beautiful breasts until the day he died. Then, watching her reach her hand down and around her, she unbuttoned and unzipped her short skirt.

'Oh, my God. Fuck me. Are you kidding me? I don't frigging believe that I'm seeing my mother in her sexy, low cut bra and in her white, bikini panties,' he thought while staring. 'There is a God. Thank you, Jesus.'

# # # Lady of Erotica # # #

In the opposite way that the curtain raised at the start of a striptease show, he watched his mother's modesty fall along with her skirt. With her skirt collecting around her ankles with her morals, he watched her pick up her skirt, fold it, and place it on the bed alongside of her blouse. He stared at his mother in her sexy bra and white, bikini panties, he couldn't believe he was privy to watching his mother undress.

She had such a shapely, sexy body. He stared at her bra clad breasts and her long line of cleavage. He stared at her flat tummy and her rounded, panty clad ass. He stared at her shapely thighs as much as he stared in between her thighs at her panty clad pussy.

A sexual fantasy come true, he couldn't wait to masturbate later over all that he was seeing now. He couldn't wait to masturbate over seeing his mother in her sexy, low cut bra and her white, bikini panties. He could count how many times he masturbated himself over imagining his mother in her bra and panties, topless, and/or naked. He couldn't count how many times he masturbated himself over the thoughts of having sex with his mother. It was obvious to him now that the woman of his dreams was his mother.

He unzipped his fly and let his 8" cock sprung free into the cool night air to say hello. Precum leaked from his slit and he rubbed it around the head of his cock as if his precum was lubrication from his mother's vaginal secretions. Losing his senses, he absentmindedly put two fingers into his mouth to taste himself, as he had done so many times before when jerking off with the image of his mother in his mind. As if she was tasting his cum, he wanted to know what he was tasting too.

Now dressed in only her low cut, white bra and her white, bikini panties, she paraded around her bedroom in her underwear as if no one could see her and as if she was oblivious to anyone watching her. Back and forth, she walked around her bedroom in front of her unshaded window and in plain sight of the street. Back and forth, she walked in front of him hiding in the shadows behind the big, oak tree and in front of anyone who was still awake and watching her at the ungodly, early hour of the morning.

He couldn't believe his eyes. He couldn't believe he was seeing his mother in her sexy underwear. He couldn't believe he was seeing his mother in her panty and bra. Never had he imagined seeing his mother in her bra and panties other than in his sexual fantasies while masturbating himself.