A Temporary Depravity

I smiled at the silliness of it, but then as she approached me in the kitchen and I saw how that thin tank top did nothing to hide mom's tits, I realized I had a unique opportunity. My cock grew hard in my boxers.

She must have pulled her hair up on top of her head before she went to bed, but now it was mostly in disarray with strands going this way and that. She looked disheveled but cute. The thin material of her top was so see-through and tight that it was like I was seeing her naked again.

I could see her aureoles and nipples right through the top, and the synthetic material wrapped around each boob like it was painted on. I was in my glory, I could just stare at her without worry.

She then turned around and started to clean the counter. I watched her ass shake as she scrubbed. Just when I thought it couldn't get any better, she got up on her toes, and bent over to clean the far end. Her ass was sitting up so pretty before me. I easily could have dropped my shorts and slipped my dick into her.

Then my mom, still in her trance, walked over to reach under the sink for the phantom toilet bowl cleaner, and I got a different view of her ass and pubic mound. She was wearing what women call cheeky boy shorts, and half of her ass cheeks were hanging out the bottom.

It wasn't until she got up with the cleaner in her hand, and started for the bathroom that I snapped out of it, and took her by the hand.

"It's okay mom, I cleaned the bathroom this morning," I lied.

"You did?"

"Yes Mom, I did. Now come back upstairs." I took the cleaner out of her hand placed it on the counter, and then led her back to bed.

I got her into bed without too much fuss, and as I pulled the sheet up over her body I must admit that I thought of climbing in with. Her tits were just so perfect sitting there beckoning to me.

"Patrick you are such a good boy," my mom said which killed my fantasy. "You were so cute the other day when you saw me naked. You thought mommy was sexy, didn't you?" I didn't answer. I just smiled at her.

"I know it's strange to admit, but I actually got a thrill out of it," She had to be asleep to admit something like that to me. "I liked the way you looked at me. It made me feel sexy." She hesitated for a while. "You do think I'm sexy, don't you Patrick?"

"Yes Mom. I do."

"You are a good boy Patrick," she said and then turned over and went to sleep. I in turn went to the laundry room, found a pair of her panties in the dirty clothes pile, and jerked off into them. I was pathetic.

Something had changed in me. My mom was still the same woman that she had always been, except being a little heart broken, and certainly wearing more provocative attire, but essentially the same woman. Somehow I had changed, the fact that I would look at her so lustfully just confirmed it.

It wasn't as if I didn't know that my mom was pretty. Of course I knew my mom was pretty. I've had enough people tell me over the years how pretty she was. It was just that I had never actually looked at her sexually. That had certainly changed.

About a week or two later on a Tuesday afternoon I got a text from my mom. "goin out with the girls from work. Dinner in frig. C u when I get home. Luv Mom." Now I didn't think anything of it. She would, on occasion, go out for happy hour with friends. So I went home, ate dinner by myself, and then watched TV.

I got a few texts from her over the course of the evening so I wasn't concerned when she wasn't home by ten. I had to get up early the next morning, so I went to bed. I was just happy that she was out having a good time for once.

About midnight I was awoken out of a dead sleep. It was my mom. She was sitting on the edge of my bed, and she was drunk.

"Honey, are you awake," she slurred.

"Mom is that you?" I asked trying to see her. She had left the hallway light on, and my eyes were having a hard time adjusting. Something was wrong. I could tell that she had been crying. "Are you just getting home?"

"I'm sorry baby. I just needed to talk to you."

"What's wrong mom?" I said and sat up on an elbow.

"It's your father. I found out that for the past year he's being seeing another woman," she said as she began to sob.

"Ah shit!" I exclaimed, but I wasn't surprised. I just felt sorry for my mother. She had such hopes that he would come home. Now she knew that he was gone for good.

"I'm sorry baby. I shouldn't have woken you up. I didn't know what else to do."

"What happened?" I asked.

"It was my girlfriend Jen. You know her, the pretty young one. Well she said that she heard a while back that someone saw him in a restaurant with some woman, and they were kissing."

"Oh Christ!" I said.

"She didn't want to tell me, but we both got a little drunk, and she just came out with it."

"Oh God mom. Are you okay?"

"No baby, I'm not. Can I sleep here with you? I don't want to be alone tonight."

"In my bed?" I asked startled. The question took me off guard.

"I'm sorry baby. It's a bad idea. Forget it."

"No Mom. It's okay. Come on," I said ashamed of my behavior.

"Really?"

"Of course."

"Okay. Can I wear one of your t-shirts to bed?"

"Yeah. Sure." Well she got up, albeit a little tipsy, and walked over to my dresser. Now I thought she would go into another room to change, but there, not five feet away from me, she took out a t-shirt, shimmied out of her skirt, unbuttoned her blouse, and as she did I could see her white lace bra which plunged down revealing her tremendous cleavage. She then turned away from me, and unhooked her bra, letting it fall to the floor.

In the light from the hall I saw the image of my mother, naked except for a pair of white string bikini panties. This wasn't good. She wasn't even in the bed yet, and my cock was already as hard as a rock. She then slipped the t-shirt over her head, and came back to my bed.

My bed is only a twin bed that I've had since I was five. My room is kind of on the small side, and this was the only size bed that could fit. Now I was scooting over in this tiny bed, and holding up the sheet so that mom could sleep next to me.

"Hold me baby. I need you to hold me," she cooed.

We spooned together in that little bed, my cock hard as a rock pressed up against her ass. Thank God she's drunk, I thought. Otherwise she would know for sure that I had an erection.

"Do you want to talk Mom?" I asked in the dark. Her hair was soft in my face.

"No baby. Just hold me like you are doing. I just need someone to hold me."

"Okay Mom," I said and I was about to try and fall asleep again, but then she spoke.

"Honey, do you think that I am pretty?"

"What?" I asked. She had to be very drunk.

"Do you think that I am sexy and pretty?"

"Mom. I don't know."

"Two weeks ago you told me that you thought I was beautiful."

"Yes, and I still do

"Did you say that just because you think that you have a pretty mom, or did you say that because you saw me naked?"

"Mom!"

"Honey, I'm over forty, and the only man I ever loved just left me for a younger woman. I need to know. Did you say that because you think that I was sexy?

"Yes," I said in the dark with her hair in my face, her perfume filling my senses, my arm around her waist, and my hard cock deep in the crack of her ass. "Yes I think that you are pretty and sexy. Now go to sleep," I said wondering how I had gotten in this situation. We then both fell asleep.

I awoke some time later to the sound of my mother's voice. It was still night, and the hall light was still shinning in my room.

"Edward," my mother called out my father's name.

"Just go to sleep." I tried to calm her. We were still spooning and my cock was still pressing against her ass through my boxers.

"When did you get home honey?"

"It's okay Mom. Go to sleep."

"Oh baby I missed you so much." Now I don't know if she was still drunk, asleep, or a combination of both, but she thought I was my father, and she rolled over slightly, and went right for my rigid cock. I couldn't move because I was up against the wall in that tiny bed. "You are so hard. Do you want to make love?"

She was kneading my cock through my shorts, and then she kissed me hard on the lips. Before I knew it her tongue was in my mouth. I don't know if it was just a reaction, or that I had been lusting for her for the last few weeks, but I met her tongue with my own.

"Baby I want you," she said breaking our kiss, and pulling my cock out of my boxers. She wrapped her two fingers around the head of my cock and tenderly stroked me. "You like that don't you honey."

" Please stop," I was able to mutter, though it felt so incredible.

"Don't you want to make love to me? I want you to." And then, with the deftness of a woman who had done this so many times before for her husband, she rolled over facing me, and took full hold of my raging organ.

"You want me to just jerk you off, is that it?"

"Uh huh," I managed to get out as she pulled her t-shirt up and over her breasts with her free hand.

She was beautiful in the faint light from the hall. I could see her large breasts, her thin waist, her full hips, and the way her pubic mound pressed firmly against her panties. She was really good at hand jobs.

"That feel good honey?"

"Yes."

"Do you want to stick your cock between my tits?"

"Yes." I couldn't believe I said that.

She slid down my body, and the next thing that I knew, I had my dick between my mother's beautiful tits. She just used her hands to push them up and together for me as I slid in and out of them.

"Fuck my tits Ed. I want you to come on my face."

God, I thought, why would my dad ever want to leave this woman? She was beautiful, had a kickin' body, and was a whore in the bedroom.

I had my hand on her shoulder as I pushed my cock deep into her tits. I looked at my mother's beautiful face, and then I watched as my cock fucked those huge tits with those big red nipples. I thought how much I wanted to fuck her pussy, and as I thought about it, I started to come.

"I love you Ed," she said as I grunted and she felt me explode into her face. I pumped into her over and over as I orgasmed. I had to have ejaculated a sea of come on her, and then I stopped exhausted by it all.

After a few minutes I slipped out when my cock deflated, and she fell asleep. I lay in the bed wondering to myself, what had I done? I just fucked my own mother's tits, and she was so drunk that she didn't know who I was.

Even though I didn't penetrate her pussy, it was rape. I knew enough from sensitivity classes at school that if you have sex with someone who is very drunk, then it is rape. I had just raped my own mother. It goes without saying that I couldn't sleep the rest of the night, and when it got close enough to the time when I was to get up for work, I slipped out of bed like a thief in the night.

I sat in the parking lot of work for a half hour drinking coffee, and waiting for my boss to show up. I felt as guilty as if I had just murdered someone, and was now waiting for the police to come arrest me. I was in hell.

She will know. She will know we had sex. It was inevitable that she will see the wet spot in the morning, and find herself wet and filled with my come. What was I to do?

The rest of the day was hell. I hadn't slept, and I was racked with guilt. My boss even offered to send me home because I was like a zombie all day, but that was the last place I wanted to go, and so I stuck it out.

I didn't hear from my mom all that day. Normally I would get at least a text from her, but not that day. More reason to believe that she knew that I fucked her while she lay comatose in my bed.

But then I thought about it. She didn't lay comatose in bed. She was the aggressor. I had asked her to stop, and she made me fuck her tits. This wasn't quite the truth, and I knew it, but it assuaged my guilt for the time being. Besides I needed some kind of defense when she confronted me, and I knew she would confront me that night.

She wasn't home when I got home from work, but that was normal since I started earlier, and she would often put in some overtime if things were busy. I went upstairs to the scene of the crime, and my bed had been made. I pulled back the comforter, and the sheets had been changed.

"Oh shit," I exclaimed as I sat on the bed. I felt like crying. How do you explain to your mom why you fucked her the night before? No. How do you explain to her why you raped her the night before?

About an hour later I heard her car pull into the driveway. I waited till she got into the house before I went downstairs to greet her. I didn't want to wait for her to seek me out. I was sick of this hanging over my head.

"Hi honey," she said as I walked into the kitchen and she was pulling Chinese food out of a bag. "Take out again tonight. I'm sorry, I'm not in the mood to make dinner."

"Its okay mom. You know I can start dinner before you get home."

"You can?" She asked with some surprise. "You can cook?"

"Well nothing fancy. I can cook hot dogs and hamburgers on the grill."

"Okay, we can have that tomorrow. They are in the freezer, and I think we have rolls."

We started to eat, but it was mostly in silence which was rare for us. Maybe she's tired I thought, but then she spoke up.

"Honey, we need to talk." She always started out that way when there was a serious subject to discuss.

"Yeah Ma?"

"I guess I came home really drunk last night?"

"Yeah. A little."

"Who's idea was it for me to sleep in your bed?"

"Yours."

"I don't remember. I got some really bad news last night about your father."

"I know you told me."

"I did?"

"Yes you were very upset. That's why you wanted to sleep with me."

"Oh." I could see the process going on in her head. That explained that, but I knew there was something more. "Honey, did you have a nocturnal emission last night?"

A nocturnal emission? Oh, a wet dream, I realized to myself. "No. Ma." I knew where she was going with this, but I didn't volunteer anything.

"Cause I had to change the sheets, and I also noticed..." She stopped and thought of how she was going to phrase it. "Honey, did something happen between us last night?"

I didn't answer her. I just closed my eyes and lowered my head. I couldn't look at her.

"Because in the morning you were gone, and I noticed that my chest and face was all sticky with something that smelled and felt like semen." She stopped again, not wanting to say what she was going to say. Not wanting to ask what she needed to ask. "Honey, did we have sex?"

Again I didn't answer her. I just put my head in my hands, and I wanted to cry. What could I say to her. Yeah Mom, while you were drunk, I came on your tits and face.

"Honey, did we?'

"Yes," I said quietly through my hands that were over my face. "I'm sorry!"

"How? Why? I don't understand."

"You were drunk, and upset, and you woke up in the middle of the night and thought I was dad. It happened all so fast. You thought you were coming on to dad."

"I initiated it?"

"Yes."

"But you still went through with it knowing full well that you were having sex with your mother?"

"Yes."

"And you ejaculated on me?"

"Yes." I finally looked up at her. She had a look of horror on her face, and she had her hand in front of her mouth like she couldn't believe what was being said.

"I don't understand. Why?"

"I don't know. Ever since I saw you naked that night, I've been thinking about you differently."

"How so?"

"You are so beautiful, and with such a great body that I wanted to have sex with you."

"You've been thinking of me that way?"

"Yes!"

"But I'm your mother?"

"I know. I'm weird. I'm abnormal."

"I don't know what to say. I think that what you did was abnormal, but I don't think that you are abnormal."

"What do you mean?"

"Well this morning after I found what I believed to be dried semen on the bed and on my breasts, I knew something happened, and I couldn't talk to anyone at work, so I looked it up on line. Apparently it is not abnormal for a boy to have sexual feelings towards his mother."

"Okay," I said tentatively. Was I being absolved of my guilt?

"But it is usually resolved before a boy hits maturity, not started then."

"Oh." I realized that I was not out of the woods.

"What you did was wrong, and I think that you realize it. But in your defense, not many grown sons get to see their mom in just a thong, and even fewer sleep with their moms when their moms are drunk and needy."

"Uh-huh," I said not knowing what to say or if I was still in trouble.

"How did I get undressed?"

"You kind of stripped right in front of me."

"I did?"

"Yes."

"So you saw me naked again?"

"Well you still had your panties on."

"Oh then, that's not so bad then, is it," she said sarcastically.

"It was nice." I knew right away that it was the wrong thing to say. She was starting to see things from my side of the story.

"It's not funny. I don't know what I'm going to do with an oversexed son in the house. What am I supposed to do, wear a burka?"

"I don't know if I'd like that," I said still making light of the subject.

"It's not so funny. Here's something that I'm sure you didn't think about," she said all serious again. "But you came in your mother's face. "

I didn't know what to say. She sounded really mad.

"That's right smart ass. You had your fun last night, and I had my son's semen in my mouth!."

We finished dinner in silence, and that night I hardly made it to nine O'clock before I passed out from exhaustion, both physical and mental.

For the next week it was awkward between my mother and me. I felt better that she had come to terms with what happened between us, but I didn't think that she had forgiven, and certainly not forgotten. I looked at myself and saw a disturbed person.

Sometime later I had to endure another confrontation.

"We should talk," My mom said as I made the mistake of letting my eyes linger on her body too long.

"Now?" I cringed. I didn't want to talk about how abnormal I was, and how I shouldn't be lusting after my mother.

"Yes now. I have a doctors visit this afternoon, and I know that you will be out with your friends tonight."

"Okay," I said surrendering. "What do you want to talk about?"

"I don't know. How are you feeling about what happened?"

That's the thing about women. They always want to talk about what happened, and how you are feeling about it. It was something that I wanted to forget about, not talk about. "I don't know."

"How do you feel about me?"

"What do you mean?"

She shook her head in frustration. I knew what she meant, and I was making her drag it out of me.

"Do you still feel the same way about me?" She asked with a bit of attitude.

"I don't know. I guess."

"Do you fantasize about me when you masturbate?"

"MOM!"

"Do you?"

"Yes. Okay. I'm still abnormal."

"And you still want to have sex with me?"

"Mom!"

"Answer the question."

"Yes, okay?"

"What are we going to do about this?"

"Nothing. Do we have to do something? Let's just forget about it, and keep it to ourselves. I don't want to talk about this anymore." I got up and walked out of the kitchen. What was even more disturbing was that I was getting aroused by her talking like that. I got a hard on just thinking about her asking me if I wanted to have sex with her.

Later that afternoon she came into my room. There was something different. She was dressed differently.

After ten days of awkwardness, and ten days of her dressing very conservatively, she was some how different. It wasn't like she was standing in my room naked, but still she was wearing a coral colored blouse, and she must have had a push up bra underneath because she was busting out of the blouse wonderfully. Also, she had on white shorts, and I could see that she had a thong on underneath.