My Friend, My Lover, My Mother, #02
Elizabeth finally has sex with her son and Michael finally has sex with his MILF of a mother.
My Friend, My Lover, My Mother rewritten and continued from chapter #01:
Even when all of my friends were sexually attracted to my mother and lusted over her, I truly believed that there was something wrong with them wanting to have sex with her. She was an older woman twice their age. She was my mother. It upset me when they talked about her as if she was some whore.
When they were talking about her shapely ass, they always made references to her enormous breasts. As if I didn't know, they told me how pretty she was. Then, they expanded their dialogue to tell me that they masturbated over her, and would love to have sex with her.
Clearly, just as there was something wrong with them for lusting over my mother, there was something wrong with me for wanting to have sex with her. Still, even after my psychiatrist told me that I was sexually attracted to my mother, I was unable to admit to myself that I wanted to bed her. Yet, now that it was out there and I was diagnosed with mother issues, I definitely wanted to have sex with my mother. Only, I seriously doubted that she wanted to have sex with me.
As if I was wearing blinders, innocently naïve, kidding myself, I pretended that I was unable to see what my friends sexually saw in her. Even with her beauty, her sexuality, and her shapely and sexy body, I kidded myself that I never wanted to bed my mother in the way that my friends all wished they could have sex with her. With my perception of her different from their observation, she was my mother and I was her son.
Not thinking of her as a sexually desirable woman, in that sexual way, I never saw what they saw of her as a mother they'd love to fuck. I continued lying to myself that I never wanted to have sex with my mother. Kidding myself, I never wished I could make out with her while touching and feeling her through her clothes. Fooling myself, I never wished I could slowly undress her and remove her clothes to see her in her bra and panties, topless, and naked when I did.
I truly believed that I'd never had the incestuous, sexual desire to make out with my mother while undressing her and stripping her naked. Unable to admit the truth, I never wanted to see what I should never see of her while touching and feeling her naked body everywhere that a son should never touch and feel his mother. Something that I finally admitted to myself years later, I wanted my mother in the way that my father and my friends all wanted to have sex with her.
'Mom, I love you and I will love you forever. You're the love of my life. You're my person, my one and only, and my special someone. I want to have sex with you,' I imagined saying to her. 'I need to have sex with you.' I imagined saying to her while kneeling on one knee as if I was proposing marriage to her.
I hated what my friends thought and, no doubt, masturbated over when they imagined kissing my mother, making out with her while feeling her through her clothes, stripping her naked, and having sex with her. She's my mother. She's not like that. She's a good woman. She's not a whore. Just as she'd never have sex with me and I'd never have sex with her, she'd never have sex with any of my friends.
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What's wrong with them? Have they no respect for me and for my mother? How dare they lust over my mother? How dare they discuss what they'd sexually love to do with my mother?
Truly, what's wrong with them wanting to bed their friend's mother? How would they feel if I sexually talked about and masturbated over their mothers? Granted, with all of their mothers short, obese, and not very good looking, no one wanted to bed them, not even their own husbands, forget about their sons.
A thought that sickened me when merely thinking about my friends wanting to make out with my mother, just as I never wanted to make out with their mothers, I never wanted them to make out with my mother. God forbid, I never wanted to French kiss my own mother. Even though all my friends wanted to have sex with her, I never wanted to feel her naked breasts and finger her erect nipples while rubbing her swollen clit and finger fucking her wet pussy. I never wanted her to stroke my cock and suck my cock after making love to me before fucking me.
Those thoughts never occurred to me until my friends routinely shared their forbidden desires and sexual fantasies for my mother with me, and my psychiatrist told me that I did. Above all of that they disgusted me instead of sexually exciting me. I blamed them for putting those incestuous, sexual thoughts in my head. Those inappropriate thoughts never occurred to me until my friends talked about my mother in such a sexually, disrespectful, and offensive way, and my psychiatrist told me that I wanted my mother.
'Hey! Fuck you! That's my mother,' I wanted to say and should have said but I never said that to my friends.
Why didn't I say that to them? No doubt, because I agreed with them. I wanted to have sex with my mother as much as they wanted to have sex with her. I wanted to strip her naked and fuck her as much as they wanted to strip her naked and fuck her. Yet, I was sick and tired of them wanting me to ask my mother if she'd serve us drinks while topless at our next poker party.
They all wanted to see, touch, feel, and fondle her naked breasts while fingering her erect nipples and sucking her nipples. They all wanted to strip her naked. They all wanted my mother. They all wanted her to stroke them before blowing them. They all wanted to cum in her beautiful mouth.
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Yet, not registering as something that could happen and would happen, again, those forbidden thoughts never occurred to me until she asked me to watch television with her in her bed.
"Michael, come and watch television with me. Something that I always did with your father, I miss not doing now," she said looking at me with sad eyes. "Please, Michael? Pretty please?"
Unable to refuse her pretty please, I was shocked as much as I was sexually excited that she wanted me to watch television while relaxing with her in her bed. As soon as she invited me to spend time with her in her bedroom, I had an erection. I walked to my mother's bedroom while covering the pole that tented my pajama bottoms with my hand.
Even when I was in bed with my mother, I couldn't believe that I was in bed with her. I couldn't believe I was relaxing in her bed while watching television with her. As soon as I was in bed with her all of those forbidden thoughts flooded my horny brain. Now, I agreed with everything my friends said about wanting to have sex with her. Now, I realized that I, indeed, have mother issues and concurred with the professional opinion of my psychiatrist.
When she invited me to her bedroom and to her bed, that should have been my red flag warning sign. Yet, even though I had an erection as soon as she invited me to watch TV with her in bed, I didn't allow my brain to override my cock. I was too excited to think straight.
If only to watch TV, I wanted to be in bed with my mother. I wanted to watch television with her while relaxing in her king-sized bed instead of resting in my twin bed without having a TV in my room. Yet, not wanting to regret missing this opportunity, this may be my chance to have sex with my mother.
Indeed, those incestuous thoughts never occurred to me until my mother unintentionally or deliberately flashed me. Those illicit thoughts never occurred to me until I saw all that I should have never seen of my mother's underwear clad and her nearly naked body. Then, with me a masturbation machine, once I saw all that I shouldn't see of her, I wanted to see more. Unable to say no to whatever she sexually wanted me to do, I was hers for the taking and for her to sexually command.
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My Friend, My Lover, My Mother, #02:
It all started when my mother had her third glass of wine and went to bed. It was then that she lost her shame, her embarrassment, her morals, and her inhibitions. Before retiring to bed, she teased me by flashing me. With her flashing me, unsure if she was, I wondered if she had deliberately shown me all that I shouldn't see of her, or if she had unintentionally flashed me because she had been drinking. I didn't care which, I only cared about seeing all that I shouldn't have seen of my mother.
With her continuing stoking the forbidden flames of incest, and with me her submissive and obedient son, I didn't stand a chance of not submitting to her passion. Now that my father was dead, with me living alone with her, with her my dominatrix and me her sexual slave to control, it was inevitable that I'd be having illicit sex with her. Seemingly, shockingly, and unbelievably, something that I didn't know, my mother sexually wanted me as much as I sexually wanted her.
The first night that I moved in with my mother, and watched television with her in her bed, after having three beers, I was tired. Exhausted from moving all of my possessions on and off of the truck that I had rented, with my so-called friends not showing up to help me move, I don't know how I did it but I did. She surprised me when she wanted me to not only cuddle her but to spoon her while watching television with her in her bed.
"Move closer to me, Michael. Keep me warm. I'm cold," she said, wrapping her arms around herself with a shiver.
Careful not to touch her for fear of touching something that I shouldn't, I moved closer to her but kept my distance. Then, surprising me, she moved closer to me. She pressed her ass against my pajama clad erection. With nowhere else to put my hand, I innocently rested it on her shapely hip. With her having the hot body of a high class stripper of a porn star, her hip was so firm and so shapely.
As soon as I rested my hand on her, I visualized positioning my cock by her pussy, humping her, and taking her from behind. I'd not only love to cum in my mother's mouth but also, I'd love to cum in her pussy, too. Immediately, while picturing having sex with my mother, my cock throbbed and pulsated itself to an even bigger and harder erection.
How dare I imagine humping my mother? I need to stop. I need to think of something else. I need to think of baseball.
With me never wearing underwear beneath my pajama bottoms, something that I already knew, and with her going commando, my mother didn't wear panties beneath her short nightgowns. Moreover, something that I didn't know, as soon as she climbed in bed, her nightgown bunched around her waist. It was as if she was naked while in bed with me. Then, surprising me as much as she sexually excited me, she took my hand by my wrist and placed it on her nightgown clad breasts. The first time feeling my mother's enormous breast, an understatement, I was sexually excited.
'Her breast is so big. Her tit is so firm. I didn't dare touch her nipple,' I thought.
I couldn't wait to masturbate about feeling her huge breast later.
Then, with my mother a little tipsy and with me dog-tired, while watching television, we both fell asleep. Sometime during the night, with my cock having a mind of its own, my prick escaped from my pajama pee hole. Falling back to sleep, as soon as I awakened, I awoke with my naked, erect cock pressed against my mother's shapely ass and against the back of her red, trimmed pussy. As if I had been dreaming, and with me as horny as I was sexually attracted to my mother, I had humped my mother from behind in my sleep.
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