All characters are 18 years or older.
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My father left my mother when I was quite young. After their divorce, my mother dedicated herself to raising me, her only son. She never dated; she only worked and supported me. After I graduated from high school and began college I worried about her future health. She was in her mid-forties, overweight, and rather lonely. I was living at home while attending school, but knew that I would move out in a few years. What would become of her when I left I knew not. Her whole adult life had been a servile existence to me and breaking that would be difficult.
I decided on a course of action. I would get her to start dating again. Unfortunately, she didn't have any friends to help her find a man. Instead, I convinced her, one long night while we drank too much cheap wine, to open an online dating account and search for older single men with whom she could begin a relationship. She was quite resistant at first.
"Dating is a young person's sport, honey. I can't do that anymore. I wouldn't even know how to act on a date; it's been so long," she argued.
"Mom," I pleaded, "you need to get out of this house. You spend all your time at work or in this house and I think that you are wasting your life. You are still young enough to go out and enjoy yourself. And I don't want you to be one of those parents that dies of depression and boredom after their kids move out."
"But I'm not attractive. No man could ever find me attractive anymore," she confessed. This was something I had worried about. After my father left she had gained weight and stopped taking such great care of herself. Her hips, tummy, and breasts had grown round and her face had begun to show age. It was a sensitive subject that she never brought up, but I had assumed it was motivating her self-imposed seclusion.
"Mom, you are beautiful," I said. "Your eyes and smile are as lovely as ever, your sense of style is sharp, and your curves are something men are going to crave."
"You mean I'm fat."
"No! You are not fat. You are shapely and in your prime and I think that you'll find many men will want to get to know you." I wasn't lying either. While she was certainly not petite, she carried her weight well, as some women can. Her body seemed proportional and accented by her large fleshy breasts and round bottom.
We kept drinking and arguing for a few more hours until she finally succumbed. When she did I got out the laptop and we built her profile into the night. Over the coming days many men would communicate and proposition her. We would talk about her online activity each day, but each new man that came along she would reject or ignore. Once again, I feared that she was protecting her loneliness, and I pushed her to accept an offer to meet a man for casual drinks one Thursday night.
After dinner on that Thursday my mother went to get ready for her first date in over a decade. I was excited for her. This would be her chance to become something other than just a mother. When she came out of her room I was floored. She was wearing a blue dress that complimented her body shape and showed plenty of cleavage. She was stunning! Her legs were thin and more athletic than one might assume. Her breasts seemed on the verge of falling out of her dress and her hips and ass swayed hypnotically as she walked.
"Wow! Mom! You've never looked so good. He's get no shot; he'll fall for you in a second."
"Thanks, baby," she said, giving me her lovely, motherly smile. She pranced over to me and wrapped her arms around my back. She held me tight and confessed, "I'm so nervous. I hope that I just have some fun tonight."
"Me too, mom," I whispered. I was suddenly frightened. I felt a stirring in my crotch and knew its source. For the first time in my life my mother had given me an erection. Her new dress and her cleavage began the stirrings, but when she held me and I felt her fleshy form in my arms and her big boobs crushed into my chest, my dick went hard. I feared that she would feel it and I tried to angle my crotch away from hers. Finally, after a long pause, she released me. And without much ceremony she kissed me quickly on the mouth, grabbed her purse, and left for her date.
I was stunned after she left. My dick was rock hard and straining to get out of my pants. I was horny, but in a conflicted way. Along with the desire she had raised in me, I also felt a pang of jealousy. Once I felt my body long for my mother's, I simultaneously desired her all to myself and suddenly was angry at myself for encouraging her to go meet some strange guy. I was doubly frustrated. The only thing that I could think to do was sneak into her room and fulfill my new-found fantasy through her possessions. As a curious child I had snuck into my parent's room, as most kids do I suppose. But I hadn't thought of peeking in her draws or going through her laundry in years. Now, however, with my dick rock hard, I needed release and if I couldn't get it from her then I would use her possessions.
In my room I took off all of my clothes and saw myself in the mirror. I was rather good-looking I thought. My frame was thin and athletic and my fully erect penis, which still hadn't subsided since my mother touched me, stood out from my crotch in a glorious display of masculinity.
Still nude, I opened my mother's door and went into her room. I stroked my cock slowly and stared at her dresser. Her underwear! Yes, I would go through her underwear and use it to masturbate. Maybe I would even steal some of it to keep and use as I needed in the future. But then my eyes caught something even more enticing. Her laundry basket! Her dirty underwear! I ran to it and opened the basket. There, on top, was a dirty pair of large panties. I grabbed it and sat down on her bed. Its scent was potent -- a mixture of B.O. and feminine juices. I brought it to my nose to breathe it in more closely, my hand yanking my cock more rapidly now. I did this until I finally felt the cum deep in my balls waken and I came violently, there on my mother's bed, into her dirty underwear. It was the most erotic thing I had ever felt. I was cumming to a fantasy of my mother, to her scent, and among her private possessions.
After I cleaned up I put my mother's panties back into her laundry and took a shower. I felt partially embarrassed by my actions, but the horniness and lust for my mother lingered and outweighed what remorse I felt for invading her space fantasizing about her body. After my shower I sat down to watch a movie in my flannel PJs and wait for her return.
I didn't have to wait long; not one hour after I showered, my mother came through the door. She didn't look at me at first. She seemed angry.
"Mom, what happened?" I asked.
She tried to walk past me, to her room, but I jumped up and wrapped my arms around her to stop her. "Why are you home so early, mom?" I pressed again.
She turned and looked at me. It was obvious that she had been crying. Her eyes were red and her makeup had run down her face.
"He didn't show up," she said in an I-told-you-so tone.
"He never came?"
"I don't know if he did or not. But he never came to me."
"What does that mean?" I asked.
"I mean, what if he came, saw me in person, and left? What if he rejected me?" She suddenly burst into tears. She felt rejected and hurt. I pulled her down to the couch and wrapped her in my arms. She cried into my shoulder, her whole body shaking with her sobs. It was her worst fear realized.
"You don't know that he rejected you," I offered. "Maybe he just couldn't make it; maybe an emergency came up."
"And maybe one didn't! Does it matter? I feel so terrible about myself. Tonight was the worst!"
"I'm sorry, mom," I said, rubbing her back and trying to comfort her by pulling her closer in to me. Once again, I felt her breasts crush into my chest. I looked down at her and could see her cleavage heaving as she wept into my shoulder. My dick stirred again. In a few seconds it was rock hard. I could not deny it now; I was attracted to my mother.
"I feel so used up, so ugly."
"You're not, mom," I tried to comfort her. "I'm sure that he was delayed by something. There's no way that anyone could see you tonight in that dress and reject you. Men should be lining up for a chance to talk to you, buy you a drink, and invite you home with them. Trust me."
"Ha!" she let out between sobs, "those are kind words, but there's no evidence for it. I'm just an old, fat woman."
Suddenly, something in me snapped. I was angry. Angry at her for degrading herself, angry at her date for making her feel like shit, and angry at myself for being unable to comfort her.
"Mom, no!" I said. "You are fucking sexy and I can prove it to you if need be."
"How?"
I took her hand from my shoulder and lowered it to my crotch. I pressed her open hand down onto my erect dick and even motioned to rub her hand across it for a second.
"Do you feel that?" I asked.
"Baby, no!" She exclaimed, pulling her hand away. "You shouldn't have done that, I..."
