Sex with my Mother, Francesca.
Mother, Francesca, and son, Raymond, have incestuous sex after dad died.
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Author's Note:
This true story was written for Raymond about what happened between him and his mother immediately after his father's death and the day after his subsequent funeral. With neither one of them planning it, and with his mother grief stricken and lonely, mother and son unintentionally, yet, consensually had sex. She innocently invited him to sleep with her in her bed to comfort her. She needed to feel the warm body of a man for her to sleep.
While allowing her son to sleep with her in her bed to hold her, hug her, spoon her, touch her, and feel her, with one sexual thing leading to another sexual thing, Francesca had incestuous sex with her son. Unable to control himself from going too far with his MILF of a mother, Raymond had incestuous sex with her. When she invited her son to sleep with her in her bed, she never thought that he'd take sexual advantage of her especially on the day after she buried her husband.
When his mother invited him to sleep with her in her bed, something that he yearned to happen and masturbated over imagining, he never thought that he'd be having sex with her. Yet, as their raw, sexual emotions for one another surfaced and erupted, she made sweet and gentle love to her son and he fucked his mother fast and hard. With neither one a victim, they both consensually got what they wanted and needed from the surprised, sexual union. She felt better feeling the sexual love of a man and he felt sexually satisfied after finally having sex with his mother.
Missing her husband, and with her horny, sexually unsatisfied, and hungry for sex, indeed, Francesca took sexual advantage of her son, Raymond, by stroking him, sucking him, and making love to him. With him never sexually attracted to his mother before, suddenly, after pressing his body against her while holding her, hugging her, and spooning her, his prick grew big and hard. Suddenly, sexually lusting over his mother, Raymond felt her naked breasts through her nightgown and fingered her pussy beneath her nightgown while sleeping with her.
Seemingly, with both of them as lonely as they were horny, Francesca was as sexually attracted to Raymond as he was sexually attracted to her. Yet, not all perversely sexual, they both needed the sexual comfort of one another to get over the death of her husband, Raymond's father. At that moment of their loss, it was important for them to bond. Francesca needed to have incestuous sex with her son as much as Raymond needed to have incestuous sex with his mother. People have different ways of bonding and for them, it meant sex, incestuous sex.
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A two-pack a day smoker, and a six pack of beer a day drinker, my father was a stubborn man. Even if it meant the death of him, which it eventually did, he never stopped drinking. He never stopped smoking. With his self-destructive behavior ruining his health, he did nothing to help himself by making healthy choices.
Not understanding why, he refused to have his COVID vaccination shots. A big eater, he was morbidly overweight. At high risk for COVID, he had Diabetes, too.
Checking off all of the deadly boxes, with him twenty-years older than my mother, at 63-years-old, by Social Security standards, he was considered elderly. With him attending professional, football games that put him in direct risk and in contact with thousands of people, he caught COVID. He succumbed to the dreaded disease a month later.
Yet, this story isn't about my father, Larry. This story is about my mother, Francesca. She took it hard when my father got sick and when he needed to be hospitalized. She did everything she could to help him stop smoking, cut down on his drinking, and eating less by making foods that were more nutritious. Yet, he wanted his fried foods and his big pieces of beef, especially his fried chicken and his barbeque.
Inconsolable, she took it even harder after he died. Here one day and gone the next, she couldn't believe that he was dead. Yet, with the poor physical condition that my father was in, an early death was inevitable. He was warned at every physical that he had. Ignoring doctor's orders, he did nothing to help himself. He did nothing to save himself and to live longer than he did.
His doctor told him to diet. His doctor told him to stop smoking. His doctor told him to stop drinking. His doctor told him to exercise. His doctor told him to get vaccinated. Yet, ignoring his doctor's advice, he ate, he smoked, he drank, he didn't exercise, and he didn't get vaccinated.
Lastly, but most importantly, he refused to have his COVID vaccination shots. With him at high risk for COVID, it made no sense why he refused to protect himself from contracting that deadly disease. Yet, what would anyone expect from a man who smoked, drank, didn't diet, and didn't exercise all against his doctor's advice?
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A morally modest woman, even though she had consensual sex with me, it's important to know that my mother is not an incestuous whore. She's a wonderful woman. A good Catholic and a church going woman, she had never had incestuous sex with me until her husband, my father, died. She's never been sexually attracted to me until she was desperate for loving, sexual companionship. She has never made a sexual pass or made a sexually, inappropriate comment to me until she needed to feel the love of a man, a real man, one who could get and maintain an erection.
With us having a good relationship, we were always close. We were as close as mother and son could be without being sexually intimate and having sex. I loved my mother as a son would love his mother and she loved me as a mother would love her son. Just as my mother never thought that she'd ever be having an incestuous, sexual affair with me, the furthest thing from my mind, I never thought that I'd ever have an incestuous, sexual affair with my mother.
Even though I sexually fantasized over having incestuous sex with my mother, I never thought it would happen. Even though I masturbated over imagining her naked, I never thought that I'd ever see her without her clothes. Even though I masturbated while imagining her having sex with me, nothing more than a masturbation fantasy, I never realistically thought that my mother would ever have sex with me.
Before I slept in her bed and before we had sex, I had never seen my mother naked. I had never seen her topless. I had never seen my mother's naked breasts. Never seeing more than her bra strap, I had never even seen her in her bra and panties. Yet, whenever masturbating myself over my mother, I imagined her in her sexy bra and bikini panties. I imagined her topless. I imagined seeing, touching, and feeling her big tits while sucking her erect nipples. I imagined her naked before imagining having sex with her.
With her always wearing a robe over her nightgowns, I had never seen her nightgown clad breasts, her erect nipples, her symmetrical areolas, or her shapely, nightgown clad ass. My mother was embarrassed for me to see anything of her that I shouldn't see. Even wearing a coverup over her bathing suit, her bathing suit was a one-piece and never a revealing bikini.
Long before my father became sick, showing my loving respect for my mother, I hugged her every day. Nothing more than a peck on the lips, never parting her lips with my tongue and French kissing her, even though I imagined doing that, I showed my appreciation to have in her my life by giving her a loving kiss. I kissed her good morning and I kissed her good night.
Again, as I wrote before, I loved my MILF of a mother. I truly loved her. She was my best friend. We discussed everything and laughed over nothing.
My mother married my father when she was 18-years-old and he was 38-years-old. With them having a twenty-year difference in age, he was more like the father that she never had than the husband that she wanted and married. With my mother only 19-years older than me, I had more in common with her than I had with my father. Whenever we talked, we were always on the same page.
With my mother only forty-three-years-old and with me 24-years-old, we had many of the same interests. We liked the same movies. We read the same books. We knew the same facts about celebrities that my father didn't know. Whenever we joked, we got one another's humor. With our humor going over his head, we laughed at one another's jokes. We got one another in the way that he never got her and/or got me.
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With me not into football and/or team sports, my father's main interest and his only interest other than drinking beer and eating barbeque was football. A season ticket holder, while wearing beloved number 12 jersey and Patriots hat, he attended every game to the New England Patriots. He loved Tom Brady until Tom Terrific deserted his team and signed with the Tampa Bay Buccaneers as their quarterback.
After Brady left, he cancelled his season ticket and never attended another football game. Seemingly with him only watching football because of Brady, he lost interest in watching football. The only football game that he watched after Brady left the Patriots was the Superbowl. He was proud of the fact that Tom Brady won the Super Bowl with a different team. He was proud of the fact that Brady continued playing even when he was in his early forties.
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After my father died, we had so many people in our house paying their respects and bringing food. My father had a lot of friends, football friends, poker partners, and drinking buddies. Everyone loved my father. He was popular with the all you can eat crowd and would go out to eat with them every week. He played poker with his friends every Saturday night. Then, forsaking church for football, he attended Patriot games every Sunday during football season. A typical man, he was a man's man.
