The following story depicts a sexual mother-son relationship and contains themes of non-consent. All characters involved in sexual activity or thoughts are at least 18 years of age.
My mom sleeps like a rock, which is fine because it let me get away with a lot of things growing up. I could dodge parental talks after school (she would come home from work really exhausted). I could watch TV instead of doing my homework. I could sneak in the house after staying out late at night.
As I got older, she added drinking to her routine. It wasn't a lot at first, just enough to forget the day and drift off to sleep; she knew I could cook my own dinner and take care of things without her. I know it sounds like she is a terrible mother, but she is very loving and would spend every waking moment trying to do what was best for me – it is just that sometimes she was too tired to do so.
When I was starting to "just come of age," I started to notice mom's assets. I couldn't stare too much at the girls at school, but I could take a long look at my mom taking a quick nap on the couch.
Mom is a very attractive lady. She has one of those faces that is always smiling. For an older woman with a grown son, she has kept a nice figure. She dresses like she is still in college; attractive, youthful – not slutty and definitely not what the other ladies down the street wear.
One time, the summer after my senior year, mom was lying on the couch with a pretty loose top that got bunched up around her ribs as she was sleeping. The temptation was too great; her shirt was just inches away from exposing her boobs. I figured that with a shirt that loose, I could lift it and take a look without her noticing.
I tried pulling it off, but didn't think it through too well. Her arms were still draped across her clothes, making it difficult to pull up. I had to tug at her shirt very slowly to avoid stirring her and risking exposure.
The hard work was worth it though. Beneath her shirt were those lovely mounds of hers, soft white flesh, dressed in a very lacy bra. The bra was powder blue and just a bit see-through so that I could make out her reddish nipples. I was holding up her shirt and staring for so long that I didn't notice that she was starting to wake.
I escaped to my room and jerked off. Catalogs and men's magazines aside, it was the first time I had seen a real live woman in her underwear; it didn't matter that it was my mother.
It was then that I realized that I hadn't taken any pictures; no fodder for future self-gratification. I cursed my lack of foresight as I might not ever have had the opportunity again.
Fate must have been listening to my prayers, because the next day mom fell asleep with her shirt already pulled up. It was a warm day, she was wearing a casual top and she must have lifted her shirt up to air it out in her sleep. She was holding it bunched up to her bosom. All I had to do was slide the rest of the shirt around the tops of her breasts, which was much easier than lifting up her shirt the previous day.
The bra that she had on wasn't too sexy; anything too frilly would show through under such a light shirt. However the V of the front clasp lifted and pushed her tits together beautifully, her creamy skin overflowing in their cups.
I thought about how I missed out on getting some pictures of her the day before and I ran to get my camera. I came back just in time to see her wake up from her nap, straightening her shirt and looking a little confused as to why her shirt was pulled up.
I was foiled, but now I had the taste of blood in my mouth; I wanted to see more. I spent every waking moment devising ways to coax mom out of her clothes without her noticing. I trained my brain to spot openings in her defenses, places I could lift or pull away her clothes easily. By then, I carried my camera in my pocket any time I was around the house.
Occasionally, I would get caught off guard and I would have to abandon her with her clothes still pulled up. Mom would wake and look at herself quizzically before straightening herself out. At that point, her undressings had a degree of plausibility – skirts shift, shirts ride up, maybe a strap on her tank would fall.
That got me to thinking about what else I could get away with in her fog of sleep. I surveyed my pictures of her on my computer. There were definite favorites in terms of outfits and underwear. Of course, I liked any spaghetti strap tank that she had. Light skirts were flirty and easy to pull up. Surprisingly, jeans were also a favorite; during the day, they would be tight and form fitting, in the evening she would unzip the constricting pants and pull them down slightly as she relaxed on the couch.
Underwear: I liked anything see-through and/or low cut. Mind you, she is an adult mother – so there were no transparent materials or Brazilian cuts. What she did have were lacy sets (that were see-through enough) and thin cotton (so thin that I could make out the shape of her areola). As for the design, she had a decent selection of low cut bras for evening wear and high cut panties for when she wanted to feel womanly.
There was one day where she stayed up the night before, compiling a report, and had to work late the following day. Needless to say, she would be dead on her feet by the time she got home. She has been like this before; there would be nothing waking her until two in the morning. Knowing this in advance, I spent the whole day fantasizing about what I would do with her.
I definitely wanted to dress her in some of my favorite outfits. While she was at work, I picked out what I wanted her to wear – down to her underwear. In the process, I realized that not everything I pulled would go together. I had to make a few practical changes to my selection – the longer skirt matched the sexy tank better, the plain cotton underwear looked better under the outfit than the strappy lace ones.
Mom barely made it to the couch when she got home. I pulled up the blanket over her to speed her on the way to sleep. I waited a full hour before undressing her to make sure she was asleep. I tested the waters by adjusting her arms. I took a heavy hand and plopped them where I wanted them; and I knew she was asleep. She was out and it was time for the fun to begin.
I started with her feet because I felt they were the easiest. I am not much of a foot person, but there was something special about unstrapping her heels and sliding them off her graceful slopes.
The pants were tricky. The clasps were unexpectedly complicated; much different than a boy's pants. Getting her waistband around her hips was another hurdle; I never realized that pants do not just fall off a curvy woman's body.
The shirt was a pleasure to remove. Undoing each button was like opening a new box at Advent until the grand prize presented itself, my mother's ample bosom.
I wanted to jump in and remove her bra right away, but thought it much more rewarding to stop for a picture and savor the moment for then and the future. It was a lovely shot: my mother lying on the couch, in her panties and her shirt open, displaying a soft, white cotton bra.
I had a little fun with the next part. To unhook her back-clasp bra, I lay next to her in the sofa and put my arms around her, pretending to be stripping my wonton date for the evening. I then positioned myself at her feet to pull her panties down towards me.
I was enjoying the ambience of the dark room, but it was time to raise all the lights. I would always treasure the pictures of mom in her underwear, but I did not want anything, like a blurry photo in low light, to mess up my time with mom naked. I took pictures in every manner imaginable: full body shots from above; close ups of everything; up her crotch with her legs spread; turning her over to get her ass (yes, she was really tired).
Next was the pleasurable task of dressing mother. She had this pair of white, ribbon strapped, high leg briefs that I loved. I have never seen her wear them before (I haven't seen her in panties much, I admit) and she had no others even similar to them in her drawer. With it, I matched a white bra with a laced demi-cup; subdued, yet sexy. For her skirt (it had to be a skirt, it was best thing she had in her closet to show off her legs), it was a navy, knee length number with a button side (unbuttoned, of course). I had a revealing tank top picked out for her, but decided the shirt she had on was sexy enough – especially with the front unbuttoned down to under her breasts.
I jacked off heartily that night, both in front of my mom and later that night in my room.
