Mom Strips Naed for Nude Day

Chapter 9 - We Can Embrace Incest

"We can cross the incestuous line, mother, if we embrace it," he said taking her hand in his and kissing her fingers.

When he kissed her fingers, he wondered where her fingers had been. Did she masturbate herself with these fingers last night or this morning? He subtly sniffed her fingers, while kissing them and while hoping to smell evidence of her musky aroma, her sexual scent, so that he could masturbate over that later, while sniffing his fingers, along with her panties that she had discarded in the laundry hamper.

He imagined her fingers of one hand fingering her nipples, while playing with her clit with the other, before probing herself deeper with a long, stiff, manicured finger. He imagined her getting undressed last night with these fingers and getting dressed again this morning with these fingers. If only her fingers could talk, what an amazing story they'd tell about his mother's naked body. He wished his fingers were so lucky to touch her in all the places he imagined she touched herself with these beautiful, motherly fingers.

"Embrace incest? How can we possibly embrace incest without crossing the line and having incestuous sex? I don't understand, Jason," she said looking at him with pleading eyes, as if asking him to help her to understand by coming up with a valid reason, so that she could strip naked in front of her son, before having incestuous sex with him.

Never having used the word sex before in asking her to strip naked, that is until he called her a MILF, it was then that he realized, way ahead of him, that he was just talking about her removing her clothes and posing naked for him to write his Nude Day story and she was already talking about having sex with him. So that's the issue, then. Now he knew the real reason for her reluctance to strip naked. She's not struggling about getting naked. She's not embarrassed to show him her nude body. She's already past that point of no return of removing her clothes in front of her. She's struggling about having sex with her son.

Obviously, she's already agreed to get naked in her mind. What her real issue, obviously, was whether or not she should have sex with her son. So transparent, as if he could read her mind, finally, he was shocked, albeit excited to realize, that his mother was a step ahead of him in thinking about having sex with him. Now knowing what she was thinking, he persevered in his argument for her to give him further proof to her thinking and for him to reach the first step, getting her to agree to strip naked.

"Instead of thinking of incest as something dirty," said Jason baiting his hook and casting his line further out in deeper waters, where he hoped his mother was fishing. "Instead of thinking of it as incest, at all, we should more think of the artistry of the human body. Yes, rather than thinking of me, as your son, and you, as my mother, think of me, as an artist, Mom, and you as my model and as an expression of my art. Whether painting, sculpting, or writing, if you will and if you can, think of your naked body as an artist's tool to do his art."

"An artist? Oh, Jason, you're just trying to bamboozle me into taking off my clothes in front of you," she said with a laugh, while stroking her hair again. "Nice try," she said with a sexy, green eyed look that melted his heart and hardened his cock.

When she said 'taking off her clothes', perhaps in the sexy way she said it, he had a clearer image of her naked now. When she said 'taking off her clothes', in the way she touched her hair and in the way she looked at him, he suspected that she was imagining herself removing her clothes, before standing before him naked. Encouraged by her body language, encouraged by the fact that she was still sitting there listening to him trying to persuade her to remove her clothes, obviously, all she needed was a reason why she should and she would. Based on that assumption alone, by her embracing incest, as he already has, he was about to give her his reason how she could remove her clothes without all the guilt and without having to feel bad later that she had exposed her naked body to her son.

"Not at all, Mom. I'd never trick you to get naked," he said, while thinking how better it would be for her to strip naked with the onus on her. He thought how much better it would be for her to voluntarily strip off her clothes and voluntarily have sex with him than to deceive her.

For his first foray into the unexplored grounds of incest to work, removing the guilt of having deceived and used his mother, her stripping naked must be as much her idea, as it is his. Only, how does he do that? As much as he wanted to see her naked, he needs her to want him to see her naked. Only, how does he get there from here? It would be a bonus, if his mother wants to see him naked, too, as much as he wants to see her naked.

It's one thing to persuade her to reluctantly remove her clothes, as a hesitant victim, and quite another thing for her to remove her clothes, as a willing participant. Instead of shamefully submitting, he needed her to embrace incestuous nudity as something that she was excited to do. For sure, instead of him kissing his mother, he'd love for his mother to kiss him. Instead of him groping his mother, he'd love for his mother to grope him. Instead of him being the aggressor, he'd love to somehow convince her to assume the role of the cougar teaching her cub how to make love to a woman, who just so happens to be his mother.

"Then, I don't understand how we, as mother and son, can embrace incest without breaking the laws on the books in most states and countries," she said in seriousness and without laughing.

Just by her not fleeing his room, just by the interest she showed in continuing their incestuous conversation, he could tell that she was interested in not only exposing her naked body to him but also in having sex with him.

"Consider this," he said looking squarely in her green eyes, as if he was about to kiss her. "If I was an aspiring, struggling artist, one who couldn't afford to hire a nude model, and asked to paint you, my mother, in the nude, would you pose naked for me?"

"Oh, Jason," she said curling her hair with her fingers again. "That's different."

"If I was a talented but destitute sculptor and asked to sculpt the naked form of the woman that I loved the most, my mother, to express my artistry through my model, would you allow me the pleasure of sculpting your naked form? Sorry, that's the wrong word. Would allow me the professional courtesy to see you naked, so that I could experience my art through your naked body?"

"I don't know what a painter and a sculptor has to do with you writing a Nude Day story called, Mom Strips Naked for Nude Day. Painting and sculpting are artistry and writing what you write is pornography," she said staring at him, as if she was getting aroused by the image that he gave her of being nude in front of him.

"First of all, Mother. What I write is not pornography nor is it considered pornography. What I write is erotica and my stories are very erotic. As you already know in some of the books that you read, there's a huge difference between pornography and erotica. There's as much artistry in my words of expression and imagery, as there is images in a painter's painting and a sculptor's sculpture."

"The fact remains, Jason, is that you're asking me to strip naked, so that you can write a better Nude Day story from seeing my naked body. The fact remains, Jason, that I'm your mother and you're my son."

"I see," said Jason feeling her biting the bait and putting tension on his line of bullshit. "Yet, Mother, consider what I said about an painter, a sculptor, and a writer, wouldn't you classify us as all artists?"

"Yes, I suppose, depending what the painter paints, the sculptor sculpts, and the writer writes," she said looking at him.

"Don't you think that, by embracing art and artistic expression, that this is an interesting way for us to embrace incest without having us doing anything incestuously wrong or immodestly immoral?"

Jason looked at his mother, while trying to read her. She was so difficult to read sometimes. He wondered, if he ever knew what she was thinking. Giving her his best argument for her to strip off her clothes, he hoped that he had convinced her.

"Since you put the example that way, that is a rather good argument about you being an artist or a sculptor, instead of being a writer of erotic literature and my son. Actually, in both of those examples, as artist or sculptor, as would a doctor in an examining room, you can be an artist that sees me naked and still be my son, I suppose," she said, obviously thinking more seriously about his proposition, as her way to give her son what he needs, while taking what she wants from her son.

"Being that I'm a writer, I am an artist, Mother," said Jason taking his mother's hand in his again. "With all of the mediums of artistic expressions, writing is just as difficult, if not more so, than painting or sculpting. Trying to describe something with my words is just as difficult as painting a picture or sculpting a statue."

"Nonetheless, whether I consider you an artist or not, the fact remains that you're still my son and I'm still your mother," she said looking at him, while, no doubt, thinking of all that he just said.

"In the realm of the creative world of artistry, we are merely a man and a woman first and a son and a mother later. Moreover, who better to model the story that I need to write than my mother?"

"You do make a strong point, however, and probably, if you were, indeed, a painter or a sculptor, wanting to help you with your art and artistry, no doubt, I'd allow you to paint or sculpt me in the nude," she said looking squarely at her son without turning red and without speaking for a few moments, as if she was pondering what she was about to do. "So, what are you asking me to do?"

Already knowing what he wanted her to do, no doubt, this time, her face flashed red, while her fingers played with her long lush hair, as if her fingers were making circles of delight in her son's pubic hair.

To be continued...