บท 1778: @4
Wishing he could sleep with his mother, Michael wished he could draw his mother a bubble bath before giving her a full body massage.
As if he had a medical condition, terminal horniness, Michael was forever horny, especially when alone with his mother in the way that he was alone with her now. As if she was another woman other than his mother, he watched her slowly cross and uncross her legs in the way that Sharon Stone did when flashing her naked pussy to the police detectives interrogating her in Basic Instinct. In the way that he saw Sharon Stone's naked pussy in the movie, he'd love to see his mother's naked pussy now. Only, she was too much of a lady not to wear panties, especially when sitting across from him, nonetheless he was content seeing flashes of her panties.
Such an erotic sight to see, he loved seeing up-skirt peeks of his mother's bright white, bikini panties. As if she was sexually teasing him by deliberately flashing him, whenever she crossed her legs in that slow, sexy way, he gave her shapely legs his full and undivided attention. His reward for appreciating his mother, whenever she slowly and sexily crossed her long, shapely legs like that, expecting her to do so, she always flashed him a patch of her white, sheer, bikini panties.
'I love seeing flashes of my mother's panties,' he thought while enjoying the view.
When she mindlessly crossed her legs ever so slowly as if she was lost in thought and was alone in the room, he wondered if she knew she was flashing him her panties and had flashed him her panties. He wondered if she forgot that he was sitting across from her. Wishing she was deliberately flashing him her panties, a game of exhibitionism and voyeurism that he enjoyed playing with his mother, he couldn't help but wonder if she intentionally flashed him. He'd love nothing more than for his mother to be an exhibitionist. He'd love nothing more than for his mother to be a slutty, incestuous whore.
'No, she's not like that. She's not an exhibitionist,' he thought. 'She's not a slut or a whore. She's my loving mother. She'd never give me incestuous sex,' he said while sadly lamenting his sexual frustration that he could no longer hide from his mother. He only wished his mother sexually wanted him as much as he sexually wanted her.
He didn't believe his mother was an exhibitionist even though he wished she was. Morally modest, he believed her flashing him her panties, her cleavage, and her bra was unintentional, inadvertent, and accidental. A good woman, a kind Christian woman, and a somewhat religious woman, that is whenever she attended church, she's not slutty enough to sexually tease him and deliberately flash him any part of her sexy and shapely body.
Even though he wished she'd purposely flash him, she'd never flash him or anyone her panties or her bra and cleavage on purpose. It sexually excited him to think of her as an exhibitionist whore. It sexually excited him to think of her flashing him and other unsuspecting men her shapely and sexy legs, her panties, the tops of her meaty breasts, her bra, and her long, line of sexy cleavage. Alas, if only she enjoyed exposing herself, he imagined all the sexy flashing fun they could have in the car and at the mall.
He'd love for his mother to flash her naked breasts to unsuspecting truckers on the highway and her panties to the tollbooth collector on the way to the mall. He'd love for his mother to flash her panties to the shoe stores salesman while lifting her leg and trying to fit her foot in a pair of boots a size too small. He'd love her to wear a short skirt and bend at the waist in front of the men behind her while on the escalator on the pretense of fixing her shoe. He'd love for his mother to try on clothes in a dressing room that had curtains instead of doors and without closing the curtain all the way.
'How hot would that be if my Mom was an exhibitionist? How hot would that be if my Mom enjoyed purposely flashing me and other unsuspecting men her panties? How hot would that be if my Mom purposely flashed me and other unsuspecting men her long, line of sexy cleavage and her low-cut bra? In the way that I'm a voyeur, I wish my Mom was an exhibitionist,' he thought.
If only harmless fun to have that thought that she deliberately flashed him, what if she was an exhibitionist and deliberately flashed him? Yet, if she was an exhibitionist and deliberately flashed him, she would have flashed him more than just her panties. She would have flashed him her naked tits, her naked ass, her naked pussy, and/or her entire naked body. If his mother was an exhibitionist and had deliberately flashed him, he would have seen much more of her than just her panties, cleavage, and bra.
Wishing his mother would deliberately flash him and/or was deliberately flashing him, how hot would that be for him to play a sexually exciting game of exhibitionism and voyeurism with his MILF of a mother? If she deliberately flashed him, he'd love to return the favor and deliberately flash her too. Only, women weren't sexually aroused by a man flashing them their cocks in the way that men were turned on by women flashing them their asses, pussies, and tits. Nonetheless, if she was unable to give him incestuous sex, a sexy game they could play, he wouldn't mind a bit of sexual teasing, flashing, and roleplaying. How hot would that be to have some sexy fun with Mom?
* * * * *
Returning to his senses while hoping that the wine worked its magic on his mother to suspend her lack of awareness of inadvertently flashing him her panties, he felt like such a pervert for incestuously lusting over his mother. What's wrong with him to sexually lust over his mother? What's wrong with him for wanting to have incestuous sex with her beautiful, naked body? Only, if anyone saw how beautiful and how sexy his mother looked tonight, they'd be sexually lusting over her too. He had always been sexually lusting over his mother and, now with them always together, it wasn't until after she divorced his father that his sexual lust for her grew.
Nothing new, with her such a good woman, he had lusted over her for so long that he couldn't remember when he didn't lust over her. She had always been a MILF and when his father decided to leave her, good riddance, was when he decided to return home to live with her. With his father such a nasty, foul, and angry, drunken man, he never would had returned home if his father was still in the picture. Now with them alone and always together without his father there to ruin things, as if they were a couple instead of mother and son, he hoped to see more of her beautiful body than he had ever seen of her before.
No longer having his father in the way to ruin his exhibitionism, he hoped to flash his mother his prick in the way she flashed him her panties. He walked around the house in his pajama bottoms without underwear or a robe. He hoped his mother was just as horny, sexually frustrated, and sexually interested in him as he was horny, sexually frustrated, and sexually interested in her. In the way he stared at her panties, she stared at the bulging impression his semi-erect prick made in his pajama bottoms.
More than once, he caught his mother looking at the impression his swaying, dangling cock made in his pajama bottoms. More than once, his erect prick made a surprise appearance when he was leaning over her. More than once his cock popped out of his pajama pee hole when cuddling with her on the couch while watching a movie. She pretended not to notice his stiff dick but he saw her look.
"For Christ sakes, Kimberly, put on your bathrobe. Michael can see everything you own through that sheer nightgown," said her husband as if she was his daughter instead of his wife.
Spoiling his fun, he remembered his father scolding his mother whenever she showed too much skin. Now, he no longer had his father's sexual and incestuous censorship in the way to ruin their sexy fun of voyeurism and exhibitionism. There was no one to make her feel guilty with how she was inappropriately dressed in front of him. As far as he was concerned, he'd love for his mother to walk around him in her bra and panties, topless, and/or naked but she'd never too that.
With his father always insisting that she wear a robe over her sexy nightgowns, unless she was answering the front door, she seldom wore a robe now. Then, again, with her having no reason for her to wear a sexy nightgown to bed, other than a short skirt and a low-cut blouse, she seldom wore anything sexually provocative. Once in a great while, when her nightgowns were all in the wash, she'd wear one of his shirts to bed or, as a last resort, one of her sexy nightgowns.
Back then, an 18-year-old, high school senior, obviously unbeknownst to her, he was always trying to see whatever he could see of his mother to masturbate over later. Only, in the way that his mother innocently walked around him, in the way that she'd never walk around any man but her husband, his Dad took offense of his wife showing their son any part of her sexy body. In the way that his mother was guiltfree about how she dressed in front of her own son, his father had a dirty mind, one of the few things that he inherited from his Dad.
Who knows? Maybe if he had paid the attention to his 18-year-old girlfriend that he paid to his 42-year-old mother, at the time, he'd still be with Jessica. Maybe Jessica never would have taken up with his father if he was giving her all the sexual attention that she obviously wanted and needed. Yet, glad to be rid of her, his ex-girlfriend was a real head case. She loved getting drunk and high and he didn't. With his father's love for alcohol, Dad was obviously the better man for her. He returned his focus back to his mother.
* * * * *
"What can I do to cheer you up, Mom? Just tell me, you name it, and I'll do whatever you ask. This is your special day, Valentine's Day. You're the one who always so loved this day of love," he said. "My Valentine's Day gift of love to you is to give you anything that I can do to make you happy," he said.
She smiled as if he had pushed all her pre-sex, sexual buttons. If only he knew what her sexual buttons were, he'd continue to push them. He knew that when it came to women, especially older women, he had a better chance of sexually arousing them with his words and the kind things that he did for them than just his touches.
'What I would like for you to do for me is to give me hot, romantic sex,' he imagined her saying. 'If you don't mind and it's agreeable with you, I'd like you to make love to me. Then, after we make love, please fuck me. I'd love for you to fuck me hard and fuck me fast,' he imagined his mother asking him all that he'd love to do with her. 'I need to cum, Michael. If it's not too much trouble, I need for you to give your mother multiple, sexual orgasms with your fingers, your tongue, and your cock.'
He returned her smile with his smile. Only, when she gave him a motherly smile, undressing her with his eyes, he gave her a lustful smile.
"Just relaxing with you while talking and drinking wine by the warm fire is enough for me," she said holding up her wine glass as if to toast him. "This is nice. Thank you for staying home to keep a lonely, old woman company on Valentine's Day," she said with a laugh.
Unable to disassociate himself from the incestuous pervert that he was, he thought of all the things that he could do with his mother that would make him happy. He thought of his mother sitting across from him in her bra and panties. He thought of her sitting across from him topless. He thought of her sitting across from him naked. He thought of her kneeling in front of him with her blonde, pretty head in between his knees while giving him a blowjob.
'Oh, Mom, suck my prick. Blow me. I need to ejaculate in your beautiful mouth. I need to watch you swallow my cum. I need to save some cum to give you a cum bath,' he thought.
If only she knew what he was thinking, wouldn't she be shocked. He innocently smiling at his mother.
"You're hardly old, Mother. You're in the prime of your life. With people living longer and fuller lives, forties are the new thirties," he said willing to say and/or do anything to remove her sadness. "I know. What if I drew you a bath and gave you a massage after your bath? Surely, that would help you to relax and help you to sleep," he said hoping she'd take him up on his sexy offer to remove her clothes.
He imagined her agreeing to him running her a bubble bath. He imagined waiting until she climbed in the tub before opening her bathroom door, pulling up a stool to keep her company, and watch her wash her dirty body. He imagined washing her back while watching all those big bubbles popping and bursting in front of her to show him more of her big, naked breasts. Then, after her bath, he imagined slowly towel drying his mother everywhere. He imagined her agreeing to have him give her a full body, naked massage in the way that Mimi Rogers received a full body, naked massage from Bryan Brown in the aptly named movie, Full Body Massage.
'How hot would that be to draw my mother a bubble bath? I'd love to sit with her while she's bathing. How hot would that be to towel dry my mother's naked body? I'd love to dry her everywhere. How hot would that be to give my mother a full body, naked massage? I'd love to give my mother a full body, naked massage,' he thought. 'Maybe she'd return the favor and give me a bath. Maybe she'd return the favor and towel me dry. Maybe she'd return the favor and give me a full body, naked massage too.'
With his mother lying face down on her stomach naked, he imagined covering her naked ass with a small facecloth. Then turning to lay on her back, he imagined covering his mother's naked breasts and pussy with three, small facecloths that were barely large enough to cover anything. He imagined giving his mother a full body, naked massage while touching and feeling her naked body where no son should ever see, touch, and feel his naked mother. That Valentine's gift would be more his Valentine's gift than her Valentine's gift. Yet, with him knowing better, he'd have as much of a chance of giving her a full body, naked massage as he would of having incestuous sex with her.
Continuing his sexual fantasy of massaging his naked mother nonetheless, the imagined thought of her massaging his naked body was nearly as good as her allowing him to massage her naked body. If he couldn't draw her a bubble bath and/or give her a full body, naked massage, he could still imagine that he could while masturbating himself. He imagined drying her wet, naked body with a towel. He imagined stealthily moving his hand to her most sacred of body parts, her pussy. He imagined masturbating his mother and giving her a massage with a happy ending.
'Oh, Michael! Michael! I'm going to cum. I'm going to cum. Rub my clit faster while fingering my pussy deeper,' he imagined his mother saying all that he'd love to hear.
Then, after he masturbated her, he imagined his mother being just as horny as he was. He imagined his mother removing his cock from his jeans and underwear and taking him in her hand to stroke him. He imagined her taking him in her mouth to suck him. He imagined cumming in her mouth and all over her pretty face. He imagined making love to her before fucking her. With not a chance of any of that happening, it was sexually exciting fun to imagine that it would while masturbating.
* * * * *
She looked at him and smiled while leaning forward in her chair as if it was her turn to make a word when playing Scrabble. A daily event since he moved home, as if they were a retired married couple, when they weren't watching movies together, they played Scrabble every day. With them both competitive, they took turns in who'd win depending who got the better letters, the J, K, Q, X, Z, S's and blanks and who made a seven letter word. Just as she was doing when leaning forward now, every time she leaned forward to make her words, she'd inadvertently flash him her bra and her cleavage in a down-blouse view of her tits.
Even though he had never seen his mother's naked breasts, he loved her big tits. Depending on the bra manufacturer, she wore bras that were either a C cup or a D cup. Every time she wore her C cup bras with the tops of her breasts jiggling, she looked sexy. Then, whenever she wore her D cup bras, she looked busty. Whether she looked sexy or busty, he loved staring at her bra clad breasts. He loved his mother's tits. He only wished he could see her naked breasts while fingering and sucking her big, erect nipples.
Yet, whether she wore her C cup or D cup bras, they were all padded. What gay fashion designer decided that women with C cup breasts and especially women with D cup breasts needed padded bras? As far as he was concerned the only women who needed to wear padded bras were those women who had an AA or A cup breasts. As much as he hated pantyhose, he hated padded bras.
With nothing sexy about padded bras, whenever a woman is cold and/or sexually excited, padded bras don't allow men to see the impressions of erect nipples that appear in non-padded bras. Padded bras are stupid. Padded bras, especially for women who have big tits, are unnecessary. Just as he'd love to flog and strangle the gay fashion designer who invented pantyhose with pantyhose, he'd love to flog and strangle the gay fashion designer who invented padded bras with a D cup padded bra.
Having masturbated daily over his mother while recalling her flashes, even if she wasn't purposely flashing him, he wondered if she knew she was flashing him. He wondered if she knew that he was staring down her low-cut top while enjoying the view of her the tops of her meaty breasts, her long, line of sexy cleavage, and her low-cut brassiere. He more enjoyed the down-blouse views of her tits that his mother gave him than he enjoyed playing Scrabble with her. With both flashes equally as sexually enticing, he enjoyed seeing her panties in up-skirts peeks as much as he enjoyed seeing her bra and cleavage in down-blouse views. He only wished that he could see her topless and/or naked.
'For Christ sakes, Kimberly, go change your top. That's too low-cut. You're exposing yourself to our son,' he imagined his father saying to his mother as if she was his daughter instead of his wife. He imagined his father lambasting his mother as if he was here now and as if he saw her flashing her cleavage and bra to him. 'And put pants on instead of that skirt. That skirt is much too short. Every time you move, you flash Michael your panties,' he imagined his father chastising his mother.
Only, with his father no longer around, his mother was free to dress however she wanted to dress. With his father no longer around, he was free to enjoy whatever his mother was willing to deliberately or unintentionally show him of her sexy and shapely body. With his father no longer around, he was free to flash his mother his cock too in the way he flashed her his stiff prick this morning while masturbating and cumming.
Unable to remove the image from his mind, he thought again about her catching him masturbating. He recalled her staring at his cock and watching him stroke his stiff prick while he ejaculated cum all over himself. If his father still lived there, afraid he'd burst in his room without knocking in the way that his mother had, he never would have masturbated himself while he was home. Now home alone with his mother, he was looking forward to all the sexual things he hoped they'd do together.
* * * * *
"There's nothing you can do for me that you haven't done for me already Michael. You're a good son. Thank you for asking," she said feigning a smile and not even trying to hide her sadness.
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