Mother & Son Celebrate Christmas

Warning: The Pretend Game is just a game of pretend. DO NOT PLAY THE PRETEND GAME AT HOME without professional supervision.

No characters in this story are underage. Mother is 49-years-old and her son is 28-years-old

*

The Pretend Game. Play it if you dare, only be forewarned, you must always remain in character to play The Pretend Game.

"What if we play a game of pretend? For lack of a better name that's more descriptive, I call it, The Pretend Game," she said hoping he'd be more positive than he's been and would want to play a game of pretend with his mother.

She wondered how many sons would be eagerly interested in playing a sexually erotic game with their mothers and how many mothers who'd play such a game with their sons. Yet, better than playing Scrabble or Monopoly, watching Christmas movies, or listening to Christmas music, maybe because she looked at him with sexual excitement was the reason why he looked at her with as much curiosity as he did interest.

"The Pretend Game?" As if humoring her, he rolled his eyes while giving her a feigned smile.

Normally playing endless video games, his mother issued her challenge to his creativity by playing a mind game over a video game. Only now that he looked at her as if she suggested that they play a children's game, such as, 'I see something that's blue,' or a stupid game, such as Charades. He looked at her as if she was nuts.

"C'mon Jerry, it will be fun," said Janice.

"Okay, I'll bite, how do we play The Pretend Game?"

She paused as if she was thinking up the rules and, again, customizing the rules to her benefit and to this particular instance, she was.

"We must use our imaginations, of course, silly. Now close your eyes," she said while waiting for him cooperate and close his eyes.

He looked at her looking at him before beginning to play the game by closing his eyes. With his eyes closed, she had a vision of herself removing her blouse and bra and walking over to him topless to lean down to him and rub her big breasts all over his face. She wondered what he'd do if she did that. She wondered if he'd take her big breasts in his strong hands to feel and fondle her breasts before taking tits in his mouth to suck her nipples. She wondered if she'd have to do something like that to rekindle the sexual interest that he seemingly had and displayed for her on his wedding day.

"Okay, my eyes are closed. Now what?"

"Think of a person living or dead who you'd like to be with if you could right at this moment. Before you say who that person is, imagine that person in your mind. Wait until you can clearly see them naked," she said.

"Naked?" He popped open his eyes to look at his mother.

"Yes, naked. Imagining someone naked is part of The Pretend Game," she said. Now close your eyes again and imagine person who'd you'd want to see and be with naked."

"Okay," he said closing his eyes again. "Anyone?" As if he was looking at her, he moved his head in her direction with his eyes still closed.

Hoping he'd pick her and hoping that he'd imagine her naked in his mind, she wondered who he'd pick.

"Anyone. Anyone at all living or dead and/or celebrity or not," she said.

If not wanting to be with her, she couldn't wait for him to tell her who it was he'd want to be with at this moment. She just hoped that it wasn't that bitch Cynthia, anyone but her. Yet, what did it matter who it was so long as he pretended that his mother was her?

"You first," he said opening his eyes.

"That's easy," she said.

"Wait," he said. "Close your eyes first and imagine that person in your mind. Don't tell me who it is until you can clearly see the person naked."

While imagining her son naked, she closed her eyes while wishing he'd walk over to her with his cock in his hand to stick in her mouth. She wondered if she'd surprise him by taking him in her mouth to suck him while stroking him. Or maybe he'd prefer her fighting him while pulling her hair hard to force her to open her mouth to suck him. Playing the aggressor or the victim, she could easily play either of those two roles with him.

"Okay, I'm ready," she said disappointed that he didn't do something sexual to her while she was so vulnerably sitting there with her eyes closed.

Maybe if this game goes well, the next time they play this game, who's ever turn it was should play the game blindfolded, naked, and with their hands bound behind their backs. That would be fun playing a game where she was helpless to stop her son from having his wicked way with her naked body just as he'd be helpless from her having her wicked way with his naked body. Other than calling that game The Pretend Game, she'd have to call that game The Bound, Blindfolded, and Naked Game. Suddenly, instead of playing The Pretend Game, she imagined herself playing The Bound, Blindfolded, and Naked Game.

"Who? Who's the one person, dead or alive, celebrity or not, that you wished you could sexually be with if you could?"

She imagined the person she wished that she could be with but with him already dead, there wasn't any way for her to get her wish. The next best choice was being with there son, the spitting image of his father, especially when he was his age.

"You're father, of course," she said opening her eyes to look at him before confessing her true feelings. "With you looking so much like him and with you walking, talking, and acting so much like him, you've always reminded me of him. A great comfort to me after the expected, tragic loss of him, you make me feel as if he's still here with me now," she said suddenly looking so sad by the loss of her husband but excited at the same time by the return of her son.

Allowing how she felt to interrupt the game, she allowed her sadness to ruin her moment with her son before realizing that her son was here now to console her. Her son was the reason why she was playing such a sexually provocative game. Only, in the way she played the game when alone, he had no idea how sexually provocative of a game this could be, especially when a mother plays the game with her son and a son plays the game with his mother.

"From all that you've told me about him and being that you two were so close and so very much in love, that's a good choice," he said. "Yeah, I like that you picked Dad, Mom."

Never really knowing his Dad being that he was only 8-years-old when he died, seemingly, as if saying a silent prayer, he paid homage to the memory of his father by remaining silent for a long moment.

"Now you," she said. "Who would you like to be with naked if you could be with anyone in the world dead or alive?"

He didn't even have to pause before giving her his answer.

"That's an easy one for me too," he said with sadness.

"Close your eyes," she said. "Now imagine the person naked as if that person is here with us now."

"Okay, I'm ready," he said.

"Who?"

Again, she looked at him hoping that he'd say her, his mother. How hot would that be, a son who wanted to be with his naked mother over anyone dead or alive, celebrity or not, in the world? A sexual fantasy come true, she'd use that tidbit of welcome information to give her the confident encouragement to strip naked in front of her son and seduce her son later.

"I know it may sound crazy but Cynthia, of course, is who I'd choose. Only, not in the bitchy way that she is now and was all through the end of our marriage, but in the way that she was when I first met her and fell in love with her," he said.

Staring into his scotch again, he remained quiet as if he was thinking about Cynthia and how things were before they suddenly soured.

"That's a fair choice," she said.

Unable to help herself, she wondered if he had sub-consciously chosen Cynthia as his symbiotic replacement for his mother because she looked so very much like her. In essence, his safe way to have sex with his mother without actually breaking any laws against incest, her mother's intuition told her that Jerry wanted her over Cynthia. With Cynthia just a poor substitute for something and someone he obviously thought he couldn't have, here he is the prodigal son returning to her nest while she's digging her claws deeper in his skin by playing a transparent game of pretend. Yet, as the prodigal son, instead of spending his money recklessly, he spent his true emotions foolishly. When he could have had her over Cynthia, such a waste of time, energy, and effort, he chose Cynthia instead of her.

Before blurting out whatever he was thinking, he looked at his mother with reticence as if he wanted to confess something to her.

"She, um, always accused me of wanting to be with you instead of wanting to be with her," he volunteered while staring down to talk to the living room carpet. "Unable to face the truth, I argued with her before finally rebuffing her. The woman that I fell in love with and the woman that I married, how ridiculous a thing was that for her to say to me, her husband, that I wanted my mother instead of her?"

"I'm sorry she felt that way about me Jerry," said Janice.

"Actually, she had good reason to say that Mom. The woman that I thought I loved wasn't her but was you," he said looking up at her to make eye contact. He paused while staring at his mother. "Able to see right through me, Cynthia knew that I didn't love her but was only with her because I wanted to be with you. She knew that I was using her because she looked so very much like you."

He looked at his mother, no doubt, to see her reaction to what he said but she showed him none. Both remained silent until Janice spoke.

"When did she start accusing you of wanting to be with me?"

Happy how the game was progressing, Janice looked at her son with sexual interest, a look that a mother should never have when looking at her son.

"Right from the start. As soon as she met you, of course, she suspected that she filled my need that I had to be intimate with my mother," he said. "That's the reason she never extended an invitation for you to visit us in California and forbade me to call you. I imagine that with you out of the way that she felt safer and more confidently in control of me, my emotions, and my love with you three thousand miles away in Massachusetts."

"I see," said Janice.

Both fell silent again. Interesting how he seemingly felt one way and she felt another. With her feeling sexually reenergized by the open and honest exchanged, he seemed nervously uncomfortable with their open dialogue.

"I have to tell you something Mom and I'm not sure how to say it," he said.

He played with his scotch glass while staring at her legs and she accommodated his stare by gradually parting her knees enough to flash him a continual peek of her white panty. She figured flashing him her panties would encourage him to speak his mind more without holding anything back. Besides, she enjoyed flashing him her panties.

With her showing and him looking, she felt sexy. She felt wicked. She felt dirty. She felt horny. She felt sexually excited that her son was home with her again.

"Go ahead. No judgments here. You can tell me anything," she said while wondering what he'd say next after his last revelation that he wanted her over his wife.

She wished she had changed into the nightgown that he gave her for Christmas, a nightgown that was originally earmarked for Cynthia. She would have enjoyed sitting across from him nearly naked while flashing him peeks of her nipples and pussy instead of mere glimpses of her panties.

"You have much better breasts than she does," he said appearing as uncomfortable as he was embarrassed by his sexual confession of the parts of her anatomy that most sons never see and seldom discuss with their mothers.

"I do? Thank you," she said looking down at her breasts before looking up at her son.

It was then that he gave her even more evidence that he wanted her. For the first time, he referred to their little tickle and teasing game when he had his way with her naked breasts.

"A little bigger and a lot firmer, your breasts have more symmetry and shape to them than her breasts do. Helped to stay in place by her supportive bra, her breasts sag a lot," he said staring at her breasts through her blouse. "Your breasts hardly sag at all," he said staring at her breasts through her blouse and bra as if she was sitting there topless.

Something that no moral mother should notice, she couldn't help but notice his cock making an appearance in his pants. Not as hard as an erection but seemingly with him discussing the shape and sized of her breasts, their candid mammary gland discussion seem to have aroused him. It was obvious to her, especially in the way that he touched, felt, and groped her breasts on his wedding day and openly discussed her breasts with her now that he liked tits and specifically and comparatively, he liked her tits more than he did Cynthia's tits.

"Thank you, I think," she said with a nervous laugh. "I take that as a compliment that my son likes my tits," she said looking down at her breasts again to see where he was staring and to see if her nipples were making their aroused appearance yet.

"Correction," he said continuing to stare at her breasts. "I love your tits."

He loves her tits. Hoping her feel and fondle her tits while fingering her nipples, she so wanted to strip off her blouse and remove her bra to show him her tits.

"Loves my tits?" She laughed. "That's the best compliment I ever had. I don't think anyone has ever told me, including your father, that they loved my tits. You're the first. It's a bad commentary on men for not being free with their compliments that the only man to tell me that he loves my tits is my son," she said with a sad, little laugh.

In the way that she hoped he would and in the way that she always knew he did, she couldn't believe that he just confessed that he not only wanted her but also loved her. Her son loving her was no big revelation. She knew he did. Nearly every son loves their mother. Yet, in the way that he loved her was not a typical way that a son should love his mother. Moreover, returning to the tickle and teasing fest that they both so enjoyed five, long years ago, she couldn't believe that he loved her tits. How hot was that? Hot, that was so hot that she was having hot flashes.

"Being that she was so much older than me, I think she lacked the confidence that I'd want to stay with her and be with her till death do we part," he said with sadness. "When she wasn't accusing me of wanting to be with you instead of her, she was always accusing me of looking at other women, especially younger women. To suggest that I'd want to be with you instead of with her or with younger women, perhaps her way of voicing her desperate need for attention and reassurance, unable to convince her otherwise, irreconcilable differences, was the final straw and the ultimate end of our marriage."

Having a nice ring to it, his words, the ultimate end of our marriage, reverberated in her head as if an endless echo. She was happy that they had their little talk. Feeling emotionally rejuvenated and sexually reenergized being that he loved her and loved her tits, she couldn't wait to show him her tits again. In the meantime, hoping to arouse him as much as she was already aroused by his honest confession of her tits, she spread her knees just a little more apart for him to have a good look of her panties. Again, thinking about slipping into her new nightgown that he gave her for Christmas, she'd much rather be flashing him her tits and pussy than only her panties.

"I don't understand, if it was just a misunderstanding combined with a woman's jealousy of me, your mother, why was that the final straw?"

As if he was her baby bird too attached to his mother to fly away from the nest, understanding why he couldn't leave her and was so sexually attracted to her, she looked at him and smiled.

"Why do you think?" He paused to take the last sip of his scotch. "I couldn't reassure her that I loved her and wanted her when what she said about me loving and wanting you was true," he said.

Janice couldn't believe her ears. First he said that he loved her and loved her tits and now he just admitted that he'd rather be with her than with his wife, his ex-wife now.

"I see," she said not wanting to ruin her little game of pretend by talking too much about her nemesis and/or by rubbing her son's true confession in his face.

No longer about Cynthia and with Cynthia out of the sexual picture, this was about them now developing a mother and son sexual relationship. Obviously with Jerry as uncomfortable as was talking to his mother but for different reasons, he by his true confession and she by her sexual arousal, changing the subject from Cynthia to playing the game, Jerry continued.

"So now that we chose who we'd rather be with, you with Dad and me with Cynthia, how does the game work?"

* * * * *

Even though on the surface he was changing the person he wanted to be with, she knew now that he wanted to be with her instead of with Cynthia. The game? What game? Oh that's right, we're playing The Pretend Game that she just created for two players instead of only for one player as she's been accustomed to playing when she's alone and horny while masturbating herself in her bedroom over the thoughts of having sex with her son.

"Well, being that the game is called The Pretend Game, we pretend that the other person is someone else. In your case, I pretend that you're my dead husband, your father, David and you pretend that I'm your ex-wife, Cynthia," she said while wanting to insert, bitch of an ex-wife Cynthia.

Yet, not to upset her son, she controlled the water under the bridge emotions that she still had for his ex-wife. Instead of telling Jerry to pretend that she's Cynthia, she so wanted tell him to pretend that he's playing the game with his mother. She wondered if he'd still want to play the game when not pretending that she was Cynthia and that he was with Cynthia. She wondered if he'd still want to play the game when playing with the woman that he could be with alive or dead, celebrity or not, was his mother. In the way that she could easily imagine him naked, she wondered if he could imagine her naked too.

"I see. That could work," he said pouring his mother another drink and pouring himself another drink too.

With now a game that was only designed for one, two can play this game. In the way that she wasn't pretending that he was her husband but her son, she wondered if he wasn't pretending that she was Cynthia but his mother.

"Be honest. What do you think? I don't want to force you to do anything that will make you feel uncomfortable," she said chomping at the bit to play the game. "It's just a silly game," she said hoping that he wouldn't see through her little charade, change his mind, and not want to play.

She looked at her son with sexual anticipation and he looked at her with horniness.

"It sounds like fun but you'd have to explain the rules of the game to me first," he said being the competitor that he is.

* * * * *

She remained silent while making up the rules in her head and while taking another slow sip of her second scotch.

"Well, being that I just made up the game, the rules are simple," she said with a laugh. She looked at him for his reaction before continuing. "So long as we both pretend that we're not with who we're with but who we think we're with, consciously and sub-consciously able to fool ourselves into thinking we're with someone else, we're free to do whatever we want to do with that person."

Wickedly enticing and naughtily daring, even she shocked herself by telling her son that he was free to do whatever he wanted to do with her. She wondered what he'd want to do with her. She wondered if he'd still want to play her incestuous, little game if he knew what she hoped he wanted to do with her naked body. She wondered what he'd do under the pretenses of playing such an erotic game with his mother and what she'd be so inspired to do while playing such a dangerous game with her son. Suddenly, she felt as if she was a spider weaving a web not of silk but of deception for her to trap her son into playing such a forbidden game of pretend.