A Broken Heart and a Wilted Rose

I quickly made a mental inventory of the groceries I bought last week and fortunately, I had all the ingredients she needed.

"That's great," I said. "I can't wait."

She hasn't cooked since my Dad died. Surely, without a doubt, even if she thinks I'm Dad, this is a good sign.

"And tonight, I have a special surprise for you."

Special surprise? What can she possibly have as a surprise for me? Other than to walk around out back with the dog, the woman never leaves the house.

We had a wonderful dinner and my Mom actually talked to me during dinner. It was like old times, albeit a bit bizarre by the conversation with her thinking that I was her husband. Some of the references she made were things that my Dad and she must have known about, but nothing that I would know. So, I nodded my head pretending I knew what she was talking about, even though I didn't have a clue. I understood some of the other things by what else she said and I was able to give her an appropriate reply.

"You go in the living room," I said, nearly calling her Mom but I caught myself, "Rose and I'll clean up here."

"Would you like to watch a movie?"

A movie? Wow. My Mom loved movies. This is just like old times, before Dad died. When Dad was away at war, Mom and I spent our nights watching movies.

"Sure," I said. "That would be fun, Rose."

Only, when I walked in the living room, after having cleaned up the kitchen, I couldn't believe my eyes. My Mom had already changed into a very sexy and very revealing nightgown. Where did she get that? Always walking around in a flannel nightgown with a bathrobe over it, I never saw her wear that nightgown before. Maybe it was something she wore only when she was with my Dad and in the mood.

Oh, shit, shit, shit. Hello? Happy Valentine's Day. Now what do I do? I'm in big trouble now.

Maybe when she wore this sexy nightgown, this was her signal to tell my Dad that she was in a romantic mood. Oh, fuck. Maybe she thinks I'll give her sex. Eww. Gross. No way! Sorry, I can't go there. As much as I want sex, as much as I would love to experience a naked woman, as horny as I am, having sex with my Mom is just not right.

I looked at her. I couldn't take my eyes off her. With her hair let down and cascading all about her shoulders, she was so beautiful in her little nightgown.

Maybe this was my Dad's favorite nightgown. Like father like son, it sure is mine now that I see it. Seeing her dressed or undressed like this, I couldn't help but peek. Actually, I couldn't help but stare.

Except for the time when I walked in on her when she was just getting out of the shower, I had never seen so much of my Mom's body. For a 40-year-old woman, she's pretty hot, sexy actually. To be honest, I know it's wrong, but I still masturbate to the thought of having seen my mother naked. Yet, this was different. Seeing her sitting there on the couch like that, while wearing that revealing nightgown, was so much more erotically sexy than having seen her naked.

Her nightgown was red and very sheer and I could see the outline of her boobs, her areolas, her nipples, even her pubic hair. Immediately, I could feel my cock stiffen. This is nuts. I was lusting over my mother, my pretend wife. I felt like such a pervert. For having such incestuous thoughts, I'm the one who needs a psychiatrist, not her.

She was sitting on the couch when I entered the living room. The movie was on pause ready to begin. Afraid to sit anywhere in the room, where I had a continued view of my Mom's semi-nakedness, I sat in Dad's old chair, a chair that was positioned parallel to the couch and that faced the television and didn't face my Mom. It had been a chair that I had avoided and had been afraid to occupy, since my Dad died.

"Come sit over here with me, John," she said patting the couch cushion.

Reluctantly, uncomfortably, and awkwardly, I sat beside her. I can't remember the last time I sat beside my Mom like this, never when she was practically naked. I used to always snuggle with her when I was a kid and the warmth of her body felt good against my body. Yet, now, with her so open and sensually sexy, thinking of her more as a desirable woman than my mother, she brought new meaning to the word snuggling.

She had loaded her favorite movie, The Postman Rings Twice, not the original with Lana Turner and John Garfield but the remake with Jack Nicholson and Jessica Lange. Then, she lifted my arm, placed it around her shoulders, and snuggled in beside me. Because of the thin material of her nightgown and because she wasn't wearing a bra, I could feel the side of my Mom's breast pressing against my ribs and the weight of her tit resting on my forearm. Then, when she rested her hand on my thigh, I was becoming aroused. For fear of touching something that I shouldn't be touching, I was afraid to move.

Caressing and feeling my thigh, she moved her hand higher and higher, until her hand rested on my erection. I froze. My Mom's hand rested on the bulge my cock made in my jeans. Alarm bells rang through my head. Oh, shit. I couldn't believe my Mom was touching my cock through my jeans. I didn't know what to do, so I did nothing. I know it was wrong, but I pretended that I didn't notice her hand.

It felt eerily good but, oh, so forbidden and wrong to feel her hand there. Then, it happened. My cock involuntarily pulsated and my Mom gently squeezed my erection before slowly rubbing it with her open palm. Every time she squeezed and rubbed my cock, it pulsated and every time it pulsated, she squeezed and rubbed my cock. Again and again, we continued the process. She squeezed and rubbed and I pulsated.

Her hand in contact with my penis felt like something I have never experienced before. It felt so much better than when I touched myself. I never thought that anything could feel as good, as when she touched me. A bittersweet moment, feeling that I was doing something so very wrong, I was sickened with excitement.

An involuntary impulse, I had no control over my cock. It was as if it had a mind of its own and it wanted my Mom's hand. It didn't help any that my Mom wanted to feel, squeeze, and rub my cock, as much as I wanted my Mom to continue touching me.

God, what am I doing? What am I thinking? This is my Mom. I'm taking advantage of my emotionally distraught Mother. This is so wrong, only, I was so young and so horny. With my mother pressing her breast in my ribs and resting her breast on my forearm, while wearing that practically see-through and, oh, so sexy red nightgown, there was only so much self-control that I had. Then, when she squeezed and rubbed my pulsating cock with her hand, it was all just too much for me to take.

Yet, better she squeezes and rubs my cock than the cock of some perverted orderly in a mental hospital. Better that my Mom gives me sex than having forced sex with a stranger or a group of strangers. Better that I see my Mom in her sexy nightgown than having her exposed to men who wouldn't love her in the way that I love her. No matter what justification I considered about having sex with my Mom, it was still wrong.

Exerting what little control I had to diffuse the situation, I tried adjusting my position so that her breast wasn't in full contact with my ribs and forearm and her hand was more on my thigh than on my cock. Only, whenever I adjusted my position, she adjusted her position moving closer to me and putting herself in the same position she was before. I was trapped. There was only so much self-control that I had and the heat from my Mom's nearly naked thigh was heating my libido.

Then, she started touching the head of my cock through my pants with her fingertips. Oh, my God. Never have I felt anything like that before. She had masterful fingers. It felt so incredible for her to touch me like that. I looked down and watched her touching me through my jeans. She knew just where to touch me for me to get the most sexual sensation. It was maddening. It took all the control I had not to pull my cock out and allow her to have her way with it.

I know it was wrong, but I was enjoying it. Every time she fingered the head of my penis, my cock pulsated and grew harder and every time it pulsated, she touched it more. No woman has ever touched my cock and it felt so good when my Mom touched my penis.

Yeah, sure, I've had dates, but the death of my Dad prematurely ended my personal life and the last three years have been devoid of women and devoted to my Mom. Fortunately, my Mom stopped fondling my cock and concentrated more on the movie. I'd be lying if I said I hadn't enjoy it. I'd be lying if I said I didn't wish she'd continue touching my cock.

Only, she made me so very horny. I needed to jerk off. I needed to go to my room and masturbate over my mother fondling my cock through my jeans after having seen so much of my Mom's body. Sitting beside my Mom, while she wore practically nothing, was making me insane with incestuously lustful thoughts. I couldn't help but look down her open nightgown top at her boobs.

"I'm going to get ready for bed, Rose," I said pulling away from her and standing.

I was tired anyway and I couldn't take sitting that closely to my Mom any longer. She was making me so horny and I was afraid that things could escalate. I was afraid she may expect me to have sex with her. I was afraid of what might happen next.

"Okay, sweetie. I'm going to stay up and finish watching the movie," she said.

Fortunately for me, my Dad and Mom didn't sleep in the same bed. My Dad and Mom had separate bedrooms, something that happened after my Dad returned from active duty in Iraq and Afghanistan. Diagnosed with Post Traumatic Stress, he had terrible nightmares and my Mom was afraid to sleep with him, after he choked her thinking that she was the enemy.

I changed into my pajama bottoms and threw a bathrobe on over it and donned my slippers, my usual and comfortable attire when walking around the house at night.

"Can I get you anything before I head off to bed, Rose," I said.

"Have a glass of wine with me, John," she said. "It's Valentine's Day. Don't leave me here alone to watch the movie all by myself. I love this movie. It's so romantic. Don't go to bed just yet."

How could I resist her on her favorite of all days, Valentine's Day, while she watched her most favorite movie, The Postman Rings Twice? She looked so happily content watching her favorite movie and I was still thrilled she was talking to me, even if I had to continue to play my Dad for her to respond to me.

"Okay," I said. "Yeah, sure. I'll get the wine."

I opened a bottle of wine and poured two glasses. I sat next to her, as I did before and she lifted my arm again putting it around her shoulders, while assuming the same position as she did before only, this time, without her hand resting on my cock. Thank God because I couldn't take any more of her touching me like that and in that way with her fingertips teasing and toying with the head of my prick.

I'm only human. If she continued fondling the head of my cock with her fingertips I'd cum. We each had two glasses of wine, while watching the movie. She was amorous and sexy and I was nervous and horny.

There's something about this movie, The Postman Rings Twice, that is so seductively erotic. I always have a difficult time when Jack Nicholson is having sex with Jessica Lange right there on the kitchen table. That scene is so hot and it just gets to me. As all the other times I've watched this movie, with this movie being my mother's favorite, I had an erection. I'm not ashamed to admit that I've masturbated over Jessica Lange more than a few times pretending that I was Jack Nicholson in the scene. She's hot for an older woman.

When, my Mom rested her hand on my thigh again I froze. The warmth of her hand was driving me crazy with lustful and incestuous thoughts of having sex with my mother. She was rubbing, feeling, and caressing my thigh through my pajama bottoms. Even thought it felt good for her to touch me like that and in that way, it made me feel a little sick inside. I knew it was wrong, but I couldn't help myself from enjoying it. I had been so lonely ever since I started caring for my Mom and now I'm so very horny. At least, she wasn't touching my cock.

It felt so good to have her touch me like that, in the way that no mother should touch her son and no son should enjoy being touched like that by his mother, but I couldn't resist her. Yeah, I should have gotten up and gone to bed, only, I couldn't help it. I was hungry for the attention and the affection of my Mom and I was enjoying her touching me not only in the way that a mother touches her son but also in a sexual way. It had been so long since she's been responsive and if this was the only way that she could respond to me, then I was her reluctant lover.

Where she was touching me through the thick material of my jeans before, the sheer material of my pajama bottoms allowed me to better feel the warmth of her hand. It felt so good. She was driving me nuts in the way she was feeling my thigh, moving her hand up and down and moving her hand between my legs and just stopping short of touching my cock and my testicles.

Every time she did that, I thought for sure she'd touch me. Every time she did that, she stopped just shy of touching my cock. She was teasing me and it was working. Then she did it again, but this time she didn't stop. She moved her hand to my cock and rested it there. I couldn't believe it.

With her long fingers playing with my testicles, she was teasing me and it was working. She was making me so excited. Never have I been as horny. I wanted her. I wanted my Mom. I needed to have sex with my mother.

Immediately, my cock pulsated lifting itself along with her hand. I was so hard. Only, this time, she was feeling me, touching me, through my pajama bottoms and this time, I could really feel her hand and her fingers feeling, squeezing, caressing, fondling, and rubbing my cock. I couldn't believe how good it felt for her to touch me like that and in that way.

I don't wear underwear when I go to bed, I take it off and just throw on my pajama bottoms. Underwear while sleeping is too confining and the looseness of just pajama bottoms is much more comfortable. Besides, when dreaming about having sex with a woman, I like feeling my cock rubbing itself against the mattress.

My Mom was driving me nuts. She was really feeling my cock. She thought I was her husband, no doubt. I was stuck. I was trapped. I was enjoying it. I wanted her. What could I do?

I didn't want to do anything but hopefully get a hand job from my Mom. I know it was wrong to think that, but I did. I wanted my Mom to give me a hand job. Okay? So what? What's the big deal?

I know it was wrong of me to have those thoughts, but I was. I was horny and I'd do anything to feel my mother's hand and fingers around my naked cock. Besides, who would know that she masturbated me? Surely, she wouldn't know. Only, I would know and, not proud of the fact that I'm having incestuous thoughts over my mother, I'm not planning on telling anyone.

"You didn't kiss me for Valentine's Day, John," she said looking up at me with a look that made me want to kiss her, while imagining that she was Jessica Lange.

Kiss her? Oh, my God. My heart was in my mouth. My mother wants me to kiss her. If my Mom kisses me, really kisses, I'm going to lose all control.

I leaned down and gave her a kiss on the cheek, but then she turned her head and kissed me square on the lips. It was beyond exciting, embarrassing, and awkward, all at the same time when she parted my lips with her tongue. My mother's tongue was in my mouth. My mother was French kissing me. Oh, my God. I couldn't believe it when I surrendered my tongue to her and returned her kisses.

It was as if there were fireworks going off in my brain. My mind went blank but my body was alive with an electricity, as if I had just been plugged into a wall outlet. I didn't know my cock could get any harder but it did and any bigger but it was. It was sticking straight up in my pajama bottoms. It was a good thing that my bathrobe covered my erection, somewhat, otherwise I'd really be embarrassed.

The soft, warm, wetness of my mother's tongue felt so good in my mouth and I'm not ashamed to admit that I was enjoying French kissing my mother. We kissed and kissed, as if we were babysitting and I was dating her. I never thought French kissing my mother could feel this good, but it did.

"Touch me, John," she said whispering in my ear and blowing her hot breath after giving the inside of my ear a lick.

When she did that, licked the inside of my ear and then blew in it, I was wild with desire and passion for my mother. Then, I thought, touch her? She wants me to touch her. Touch her where? Seriously, I'm afraid to touch her for fear of what will happen next. I can't touch her, but I want to touch her everywhere.

She moved my hand to her breast. She wanted me to feel her tit. Her breast felt so good in my hand. I was feeling my mother's breast. Certainly, hers was not the first tit that I felt, but this was my Mom's tit, the same tit that I sucked on when I was a baby.

"Play with my nipple," she said. "I like it when you finger my nipple. It makes me wet."

Oh, my God. This isn't happening, but it is. This is really happening.

I moved my fingers gently across her nipple and my mother's nipple immediately responded. Her nipple was huge. I couldn't help but pull it out more with my index finger and thumb while staring down at the impression it made in her nightgown. I wanted to suck it. I wanted to suck my mother's nipple. I had this overwhelming desire to suck her tits.

Just as I was feeling her tit, just as I was fingering her nipple, she did something unexpected. She unbuttoned my pee hole and reached her hand inside my pajama bottom. As if in slow motion, I felt her touch my penis.

First I felt her fingertips and then I felt her hand grasp it. The feel of her hand around my cock is something I will never forget. It was magical. Then, she surrounded it with her fingers and pulled my cock from out of my pajama bottoms.

Embarrassed and excited at the same time, my Mom was looking down at my cock, staring at it, actually, while holding it in her hand and fondling it with her fingertips. I looked down and watched my mother holding my cock in her hand. I couldn't help but stare at her hand while watching her fondle my big prick.

I couldn't believe it. As if it was a dream, it was difficult for me to wrap my brain around my mother fondling my cock, while staring at it. Then, she looked up at me and gave me a sexy look.

Then, she looked back down at my cock and slowly started stroking me, while staring at my cock. My Mom was giving me a hand job and it felt so good. With her being the first woman who ever touched my naked penis, there was no way that I could stop her from masturbating me. I was actually helping the process along by humping her hand with my hips.

I wanted her to give me a hand job. I was so horny and I wanted to cum. I wanted to cum all over my mother's hand. I didn't care if it was wrong, this felt too good not to be right. Besides, what does she know? She thinks I'm my dead father. She'll never know she gave me a hand job. She'll never remember any of this, if ever she awakens.

She leaned up and kissed me again, French kissed me, while still stroking me. I responded by kissing her back and as soon as I kissed her my cock stiffened, until I thought it would explode. I couldn't help myself from kissing and kissing her. There I was French kissing my mother while feeling her tits and fingering her nipples, while she stroked my cock. I felt an excitement I have never experienced before.