Chapter Four - It's Just a Story
"I mean, God only knows, we all have sexual needs and with me not having a man in my life for years, since your father left me, at 17-years-old, when I was pregnant with you," she said unbuttoning the top two buttons of her blouse and flaying the top portion of the thin, pink material open enough to reveal some cleavage, while waving her hand by her face. "Suddenly, it's so hot in your room, stuffy, actually."
"I'll put on my fan. How's that, Mother?" Sexually exciting him that his mother was hot, literally and figuratively, he angled his small, portable fan towards her. "Is that better?"
"Yes, thank you, honey. I mean, I've had sex with other men before, of course, especially after joining that dating site, which was more of a sex site," she said blushing, while letting out an uncomfortable laugh. "Unfortunately, nothing serious ever happened and those three men that I had sexual relations with, didn't call me again," she said with apparent sadness. "Out of practice, I guess, maybe I'm not very good in bed," she said with another sad, little, nervous laugh.
"Um, that's way too much information, Mother," said Jason holding up his hands and looking, as if he was about to be sick. "I really don't need to know about your past sexual experiences with other men, Mom. It's enough that I imagine them, when writing about them in my stories," he said laughing to hide his feeling of jealousy.
Only, truth be told, he wished she'd share all the sexy details of her sexual encounters with them. An image that made him as sexually excited as it made him insanely jealous and angry, he felt sick that a man had sex with the object of his sexual attraction and sensual affection, his mother. Now, he couldn't help but imagine his mother naked and in bed with those three men, as if they were gangbanging her, while she fucked and sucked them and they licked and fucked her.
He couldn't help but imagine his mother writhing naked in sexual pleasure and having sex with so much sexual passion. He wondered if she sucked cock. He wondered, if she allowed those three men to cum in her mouth. He wondered if she swallowed.
For him to salvage a mother and son relationship that he so enjoyed and treasured, before she found his book of incestuous stories about her, even if he so believed otherwise, he needed to make her understand that, even though his stories were about incest and about her, they were just stories and nothing more than that. Of course, those stories that he wrote were more than just stories to him. With his incestuous thoughts written out in stories that relieved his brain of the sexual frustration of not being able to have sex with his mother, they were his incestuous sexual fantasies coming alive, if only on paper.
Only, in the gullible and vulnerable way his mother was, he felt confident that he could make her believe that he had no other ulterior motive than creative writing, when writing those nasty and dirty stories about her. So long as he could explain his motives in such a way that she felt that his stories were more innocent than perverse, maybe she'd agree to having sex with him, one day, or, at the very least, agree to strip naked and show him more of her hot body, whether accidentally or purposeful. For sure, he wasn't insane. If he was anything, he was just crazy like a fox. Now, like mother like son, he felt certain that his mother wouldn't take him to see a psychiatrist, especially after suspecting she was having the same incestuous thoughts about him, too.
"Nor will I ever tell you in detail about my sexual experiences," she said with another nervous laugh, while fluffing back her hair again and making solid eye contact with her son. "After reading about all of your incestuous thoughts and sexual desires, I wonder," she said laughing, "is the erotic writer getting a little uncomfortably unnerved by a real dose of his mother's sexual reality?"
In the way that Lily Tomlin of Laugh-in used to do, she tucked a fingertip in her cleavage, while looking at Jason with a look that made him feel that she was undressing him with her eyes. Certainly, cock for tit, he had already undressed her with his eyes so many times before, that he couldn't keep count. Without even crossing the line, in the way they were both eying one another, whether they knew it or not, they had already crossed the incestuous line in the way that a mother shouldn't sexually think about her son and in the way that a son shouldn't sexually think about his mother. Besides, Jason had already crossed the line long ago, when writing his first incestuous story about having sex with his mother. Years later, she had already crossed the line, too, by reading all of the stories that he wrote about her with obvious sexual excitement.
"It's not that, Mom. It's just, even though I can imagine us in a sexual relationship, especially when I'm in my creative writing zone, once I stop writing, as if my incestuous scenario is a bubble, it bursts and you return to being my mother again, instead of my sexy lover. Admittedly, to say that my sexual fantasy is a letdown, once I stop writing about you having sex with me, is a gross understatement. Honestly, even though you may think me mentally maladjusted and my writing perverse, truly, they are just stories to me," he said trying his best to make his mother believe his lie by giving her a sincere look of innocence.
