My Mother's Big Tits

Brendan, a 21-year-old, horny son is sexually attracted to his 39-year-old, MILF of a mother, Kathy.

I admit it and I'm not embarrassed to admit it. I'm sexually attracted to my MILF of a mother, especially to her big tits. I love big tits. I love my mother's big tits. Even though I know my sexual attraction to my mother is wrong, I can't help myself. With just one look at my mother, who wouldn't be sexually attracted to her?

She's beautiful. She's sexy. She's shapely. She's smart. She's loving. She's fun. I can't think of a better mother or woman to have than her. Only, instead of her being my mother, I wish she was my girlfriend, my lover, or my wife. Suffice to write, I wish I could have incestuous sex with my mother but I can't. She'd never have sex with me.

Just because I'm sexually attracted to my mother doesn't make me a pervert. I'm not a pervert. I'm a good person. There's just something about my mother that makes me wild with sexual excitement and romantic passion. No other woman has that kind of sexual effect and emotional control over me as does my sexy, shapely, and beautiful mother.

If it's not enough that she's beautiful, sexy, and shapely, but she has big tits. An understatement, I like big tits. To me, C cup breasts are nice and double D cup are too big. My mother has D cup breasts, my preferred size breasts.

Other than an unintentional touch when we're practicing our judo, I've never felt my mother's D cup breasts, but I've felt the D cup breasts of other women. I love how they encompass my entire hand. My perfect D cup breasts are those that are not only firm but also shapely. When she doesn't feel the need to wear a bra, my mother's tits don't sag to her waist. They still stay up where they belong.

# # #

Fortunately for me and unlike me, oddly enough, my mother can't sleep in total darkness. She needs a nightlight where I need my bedroom to be totally dark to sleep. Having had severe nightmares in her past, jumping at every noise, and seemingly afraid of everything, she's been scared and now is scarred from some horrible thing that happen to her in her past.

I don't know what it was that happened to scare her. She doesn't talk about it and I don't ask. Yet, whatever it was has made her fear the dark.

Again, fortunately for me, my mother's nightlight is plenty bright enough for me to see all that I hoped, wanted, and needed to see of her. Her nightlight is plenty bright enough to allow me to watch her sleep while hoping that I'll see something of her that I shouldn't see. Only, and disappointedly, I've yet to see anything of her other than seeing her sleeping.

Unlike any other mother that I know, she sleeps with a loaded handgun handy. She has a loaded shotgun suspended over her bedroom door, baseball bats resting in each corner, tasers, and knives hidden about her bedroom room and all over the house. Perhaps, her life had been threatened. I don't know. Perhaps, she had testified against someone had threatened her life and she had sent him to prison. I don't know. Again, she doesn't volunteer the details and I've never asked.

Not wanting to upset her by bringing up her past, she never talks about what happened and I know better not to ask. Yet, if ever she wanted to tell me what happened to her, I'd be there for her to listen. No one should shoulder that kind of trauma alone.

# # #

From the time that I could walk, she took me with her to private, Judo lessons. We both have black belts. My mother has a third-degree black belt and I just receive my second-degree certification. Whether for the body and/or for the mind, as far as I'm concerned, there is no martial art better than or equal to jiu-jitsu.

From the time that I was big enough to handle a handgun, she took me to the gun range to teach me gun safety and how to shoot. I feel sorry for the person who breaks into our house. I feel sorry for the man who thinks that he can attack or get the better of my mother. She's no fool and she's nobody's victim.

Standing 5'10" tall with D cup breasts instead of double D cup breasts, she's the white Queen Latifah, the new Equalizer. Yet, instead of weighing Queen's 200 pounds, my mother is a sexy, shapely, and curvaceous 145 pounds. With me 6'3" tall and my father barely 6' tall, I got my height from my mother.

I never met my father and he's never stepped from the shadows to meet me. I wished I had a father to do father and son things with, I would have loved to play catch or go to a baseball game or just have a beer while talking about this and that. Yet, my mother has always been there for me. With her interest in manly things, such as guns and martial arts, she's a father and a mother rolled into one person.

With the shades drawn, the drapes pulled shut, and the windows double locked, I sometimes feel as if I'm living in a tomb that's below ground. With deadbolt locks at the top, the bottom, and the middle of our steel reinforced, battering ram proof, front and back doors, and steel, security bars on the windows, I feel as if I live in a drug house. We also have an alarm, of course, and bright lights that light up the exterior of the house as if we live in the middle of a baseball stadium during a night game.

With my mother keen about security and keeping us safe, clearly, something traumatic must have happened to her. Only, something that we never talk about, I stopped wondering what happened. Whatever it was, I'm just glad that she keeps us both safe now. Yet, whenever she wanted to talk about what happened, I'll be there to listen.

# # #

Alas, every night the same thing, tired of masturbating myself and cumming in a tissue, I awaken horny and with a huge erection. Not allowed to date and/or even to go out to pick up women because of the pandemic, I've been living like a monk this past year. With nuns and parishioners available to them, I'm sure that even priests have more sex than me.

I'm so very horny. I'm so very sexually frustrated. Something so forbidden to even think about and contemplate, I wish my mother would give me a hand job while I played with her big, naked tits and fingered her erect nipples. Only, nothing more than a sexual fantasy that I masturbate over, that will never happen.

Sadly, and perversely, with the both of us sheltering in place together, perverted to even think about it, my mother is my only hope for some sort of sexual gratification. As if I'm a burglar hoping to steal my mother's jewelry and cash, I quietly and stealthily walk through the dark hall to my mother's bedroom. I don't need a light. Having walked to her room every night, hundreds of times before, since I turned 18-years-old, able to find her room in the dark, I know the way with my eyes closed. With my training in Judo, I can silently walk around the house as if I'm a cat or a Ninja warrior.

As if her bedroom is the interior of a movie theatre, the light of her nightlight illuminates the hall plenty enough for me to see. Careful not to step on any part of the floor that squeaked, I walked the same path every night to peep on my sleeping mother. Hoping beyond hope, I hoped that she's sleeping naked or that her nightgown was disheveled enough for me to see what I shouldn't see of my mother's beautiful, naked body. If I can't see her big, naked tits, giving me something to masturbate over, I'd be sexually satisfied seeing her shapely, naked ass, and/or her black, naked pussy.

I imagined her nightgown top askew to expose one of her big, naked breasts. I imagined her nightgown hem raised to her waist during the restlessness of her sleep to expose her black, trimmed, naked pussy and the side of her shapely, naked ass. A longtime coming, I imagined finally seeing my mother's partially naked body. I'd finally have something more to masturbate over than just my horny imagination. Instead of imagining my mother's naked ass, tits, and pussy, I'd be masturbating over all that I saw of my mother's naked ass, tits, and pussy.

Only, no such luck, even when she wears her Judo Gi, she's modest enough to wear a t-shirt under her jacket. The closest I've gotten to feeling my mother's big tits is when I intentionally brush my horny hands by her huge breasts when we're practicing Judo. More than once while trying to get a grip, I've had a whole handful of my mother's big, firm breast in my horny hand. The closest I've gotten my mother's pussy and she's gotten to my cock is when we get one another in choke holds with our thighs.

I still haven't seen anything of what I had hoped to see of my mother's beautiful body. No up-skirts and no down-nightgowns, she always sits like a lady. She's modest and moral enough to always wear a robe over her sexy and sheer nightgowns.

Still, I needed to see something of my mother to masturbate over. If only I could see her naked breasts, I'd be a happy man. If ever I saw my mother's naked tits, I'd be masturbating over touching them, feeling them, fondling them, groping them, and sucking them every day, night and day. If ever I saw her naked pussy, I'd be masturbating over fingering her, licking her, and fucking her.

'Mom. Show me your tits,' I imagined saying while holding up a sign that read, 'Show me your tits,' as if I was at the Indy 500 or the Daytona 500. 'Tits for cock. I'll show you my cock if you show me your tits,' I wanted to say to her but would never dare say that to my mother.

Yet, just as I'd never ask her to show me her tits, she'd never show me her tits. Modestly moral, my mother has more class than that. She's not an incestuous whore in the way that I'm suddenly becoming an incestuous pervert. Yet, able to still have some modicum of sexual control, just as I'd never deliberately expose my naked prick to my mother, she'd never want to see my naked cock. Only, truthfully, I'd love to see her naked tits as much as I'd love to expose my naked prick to her.

Only, and unfortunately, my mother doesn't want to see my naked cock in the way that I yearned to see her naked breasts. I'd definitely show my mother my naked cock, especially if she showed me her naked tits. Actually, she wouldn't even have to show me her naked tits for me to show her my naked cock. Yet, convolutely wrong, I was her son and she was my mother. I didn't want to be just another sexually, deranged man who sexually lusted over his mother because of her pretty face, her enormous breasts, and her sexy and shapely body.

# # #

Nevertheless, the same, sexually frustrating thing night after night, I was tired of seeing her fully covered while sexually lusting over her and wishing that I could see her topless and/or naked. The same, boring thing every night and every morning, I was tired of imagining her topless and/or naked while masturbating myself. I was tired of imagining touching and feeling my mother where no son should never touch and feel their mother.

For a woman who wears such sexy, flimsy, and nearly transparent nightgowns to bed, she's always covered with a sheet at night or wears her robe in the morning. Later in the day, ready for her workout, she wears sweatpants and a sweatshirt. Just once, I wish I could see something of her that I shouldn't see. Then, testing the incestuous waters, I'd flash her my naked prick while making my dick flash appear accidental.

There's been times, deliberate on my part, when we were practicing our Judo moves and I got my mother in a hold while nonchalantly and stealthily easing down her sweatpants with my foot. More than once, I saw the back or the front of my mother's white, bikini panties. I so wanted to squeeze her ass and finger her pussy through her panties but I didn't dare.

Other times, while getting her in a Judo hold and making it appear unintentional, I deliberately raised her sweatshirt to see her white bra. While she was temporarily helplessly incapacitated, I was tempted to feel her big tits through her bra and even lift her bra and expose her naked breasts. Yet, all part of our Judo moves, she never scolded me for being too free with my hands in touching her and feeling her ass or in coming in contact with her sweatpants clad pussy.

More than a few times, I felt her hand briefly brush by my erect cock. I always have an erection, especially when wrestling with my mother. She had me in plenty of Judo holds where her hand and/or forearm rested on my erect prick. Whenever that happened, to show her that I enjoyed her touching me in that forbidden way, I deliberately throbbed and pulsated my cock against her hand or forearm. In the way that I deliberately eased down her sweatpants, I wished my mother would deliberately ease down my sweatpants, too.

Unable to tell, I always wondered how receptive my mother would be to me touching her and feeling her while wrestling with her. She'd either kick my ass for sexually assaulting her or she'd return the favor by sexually touching and feeling me. Only, with her my only friend, I didn't want to make her angry. I didn't want to make her feel pressured to give me sex.

'Mom,' I imagine saying while pulling down my sweatpants and underwear to expose my hard, erect prick to her. 'It's just a hand job. What's the big deal? Just wrap your hand around my cock and stroke me while I lift your sweatshirt and bra to fondle your tits and finger your nipples.'

Alas, again, nothing more than a sexual fantasy, just as my mother would never masturbate me, I'd never expose myself to her. Nonetheless, it was something sexually exciting to think about while masturbating myself. How hot would that be for my mother to stroke me? How hot would that be to cum for my mother? How hot would that be for her to finally allow me to have my wicked, sexual way with her naked breasts?

# # #

I'm sexually frustrated imagining having incestuous sex with my mother. I'm horny imagining her stroking me, sucking me, and fucking me. I'm tired of imagining fingering her naked pussy while licking her wet cunt. At the very least, I need to see some skin. I need to see something of my mother that I shouldn't see. Something, give me something, anything, I need to see her naked breasts, her naked ass, and/or her naked pussy.

Again, as it was every night, seemingly not knowing any other way, my mother's bedroom door was open. Her bedroom door was always sexually, frustratingly open. Accustomed to her bedroom door being wide open, she dressed with her bedroom door open, undressed with her bedroom door open, and slept with her bedroom door open. Daring myself to do so but knowing that I never would, I'd love to climb in bed with my mother.

I wondered what she'd say if I suddenly moved beneath the blankets and snuggled up against her. I wondered what she'd do if I suddenly spooned her and hugged her. I wondered if she'd stop me if I lifted the back of her nightgown to feel of naked ass or reached around her to fondle her big breasts through her nightgown. If I was her husband, her lover, or her boyfriend instead of her son, I'd have sex with my mother every morning and every night. I'd love to make sweet, slow love to her before fucking her hard and fast.

Feeling claustrophobic, she had a thing about closed doors. Again and no doubt, something that traumatically happened to her years ago, if the door was closed, she couldn't breathe. The only time she closed any door, other than the front and back doors, was when she used the toilet. Even when she took baths and showers, her bathroom always door remained open. Fortunately for her and unfortunately for me, giving her more privacy, she used her bathroom in the master bedroom to shower and bathe. I'd be violating her privacy if I went in there to peep.

Following her lead and accepting my mother's open, bedroom door policy, I dressed with my bedroom door open, undressed with my bedroom door open, and slept with my bedroom door open. Daring her to see me and watch me cum, I even masturbated with my bedroom door open. Only, my reason for leaving my bedroom door open was much different than my mother's reason for her leaving her bedroom door open. Unlike her feeling claustrophobic, what else is new, I was feeling horny. I hoped she'd catch me naked. I wanted my mother to see my naked cock.

Further, not stopping with her just seeing my naked prick, I hoped she'd catch me masturbating myself. I hoped she'd see my erection. I hoped she'd see and watch me cum while masturbating over my mother. If ever she saw me naked, I wondered if she'd look, stare, or look away. I wondered if she'd be sexually aroused to reach out her hand and wrap her long, manicured fingers around my stiff prick. I wondered if she'd be sexually aroused to have forbidden sex with me in the way that I'd be sexually excited to have sex with her.

# # #

Unfortunately, just my luck, with our bedrooms at the opposite ends of the hall, I'd had no reason to walk by my mother's bedroom unless I was peeping on her. With my mother having problems with peepers spying in her windows in the past, I'd be suspect as being a peeper to be seen stalking around her open, bedroom door. I suspected that she may have been sexually assaulted and/or raped by an intruder.

Not having a father, with her a practicing Catholic who'd never have an abortion, I suspected that I was a product of my mother being impregnated after she had been raped. I suspected that my father was her rapist. That would explain why my mother took up martial arts and had me take up that discipline, too. That would explain why our house is a fortress with weapons everywhere.

The same went for her. Unless she was delivering my laundry or making my bed, she'd have no reason to walk all the way down my end of the hall and by my open, bedroom door. Yet, if only I dared walk by my mother's open, bedroom door, I'd probably see all that I hoped and wanted to see and all that I shouldn't see of my mother. No doubt, my longtime sexual fantasy, I'd see her undressing and dressing.

If only I dared walk by my mother's open, bedroom door, be still my heart, I'd probably see her in her bra and panties, topless, and/or naked. If only she dared walk by my open, bedroom door, with me masturbating every morning and every night, she'd catch me stroking my erect prick. She'd see my naked cock and see me cumming over the forbidden thoughts of having incestuous sex with her.

With me feeling as horny as I was sexually frustrated, every night and every morning, I masturbated over imagining seeing my mother in her sexy, low-cut bra and in her bikini panties. I continued masturbating myself over imagining seeing her naked breasts. While imagining watching her putting on her bra or removing her bra, I imagined seeing her topless. I masturbated myself over the thought of seeing her naked tits. My sexual fantasy come true, giving me even more to masturbate over, I'd love to see my mother topless and/or naked.

'I'd love to see my mother's naked breasts. I wish I could see her big, naked tits,' I thought. 'I wish I could see her naked areolas and erect nipples. I wish I could touch them and feel them.'

When not masturbating over imagining seeing my mother's naked breasts, I continued masturbating myself over imagining seeing my mother's naked, black, trimmed pussy and her shapely, naked ass. I continued masturbating myself over my mother catching me playing with myself, seeing my hard, naked prick, and watching me cum. As much as I'd love to see my mother's naked tits, ass, and pussy, I'd love her to see my erect, naked cock.

I wondered what my mother would do if she saw my naked prick. Would she look? Would she stare? Or would she look away? Would she be embarrassed or would she reach out and touch my stiff prick in the way that I'd reach out and touch her naked ass, her naked tits, and her naked pussy if ever I saw her naked?

Would she masturbate me? Would she suck me? Would she fuck me? I didn't know. I had no idea. Yet, it sexually excited me to imagine her stroking me, sucking me, and/or fucking me. It sexually excited me to imagine cumming in my mother's mouth as well as in her wet, warm pussy.