Mother & Son Celebrate Christmas Ch. 04

Difficult for her not to take what he said as her opportunity to say something sexually inappropriate while wondering if he was baiting her, she allowed his comment to slide without comment. We could have sex, she wanted to say. I'm willing to have sex with your hot body if you're willing to have sex with my mature, MILF of a body. Mommy would suck you and fuck you in celebration of the holidays if that's what you wanted and needed for me to make you happy and for you to not feel as restless as you do now.

"We could play a game," she said instead. "I have Scrabble, Monopoly, Yahtzee, chess, and cards," she said while imagining playing strip poker with her son.

"Strip poker it is," he said with a laugh while giving her a sexy look as if waiting for her to agree.

She couldn't believe he said what she was thinking in her wanting to play strip poker with her son.

"Strip poker?" She laughed while imagining her son naked. "Being that I'm only wearing six articles of clothing, a blouse, skirt, panties, bra, and shoes, I'd have to be really drunk for me to play strip poker with my son," she said laughing while imagining sitting in the middle of the living room naked with her son.

"C'mon Mom. Playing strip poker with you will be fun," he said tempting her.

"How would that look, a mother naked before her son?" She said pausing while waiting for his response before goading him again. "What would you think of me after seeing me without my clothes? It was enough that you saw me topless when barging in my bedroom on the day of your wedding," she said waiting for him to pick up that ball and run with it. When he didn't respond, about seeing, touching, and feeling her tits, she continued. "I'd never play strip poker with you Jerry. Sorry," she said with a laugh when, instead, she wanted to start dealing out the cards.

"I'll get the glasses for the scotch," he said obviously uncomfortable with the conversation and changing the subject.

Yet, not closing the door on playing some sort of erotic, albeit incestuously, forbidden, sexual game with her son, she continued with her inappropriate suggestions and lewdly lascivious thoughts.

"Having a better chance of winning, I'd rather play spin the bottle before I'd play strip poker with you," she said with a dirty laugh while figuring a deep, wet kiss would more ready lead to a long, groping touch.

She imagined French kissing her son as he felt her boobs through her bra and blouse and as she felt his cock through his pants.

"Spin the Bottle, I haven't played that in years. How do you play Spin the Bottle with only two people?" As if wanting her to convince and encourage him to play, he looked at her as if wanting to say something and then he did. "Besides, I'd never kiss you, my mother, in the way that I kissed Cynthia," he said.

* * * * *

After the way he tickled her when she was topless, so pent up with incestuous lust for her, she knew that he'd most definitely kiss her in the way that he kissed Cynthia, especially once he had a couple of drinks of this expensive scotch in him. Instead of coming right out with what they both wanted to do, have forbidden sex, they both played their own version of a cat and mouse, titillating game of tease but without the tickling. She didn't want him to think that she was an incestuous whore of a mother for wanting him and, obviously, he didn't want her to think that he was a horny pervert of a son for wanting his mother.

Yet, at some point in time, one or the other would have to gamble by revealing their hand, playing their cards, and showing their interest for them to play the forbidden game of incest. Having already crossed the incestuous line when he was tickling her and she was topless, they'd have to cross the incestuous line again to get things jump started. Knowing full well that it would have to be her to make the first move, she didn't know how to go about seducing her son without him feeling embarrassed, awkwardly uncomfortable, guilty, used, and abused by his mother. Something so delicate in the beginning, once started, incest could be the best thing they ever did.

"Why couldn't you kiss me in the way that you kissed Cynthia? We look exactly alike," she said persevering while looking at him looking at her.

With her visions of her son French kissing her slowly evaporating, she wondered what else she could do to seduce him, other than to get him drunk. Obviously that one day that he tickled her, touched her, and felt her was a fluke. Maybe he felt so guilty about violating her in that sexual way that he swore to himself that he'd never touch her again. Yet, nevertheless how he felt about seeing her nearly naked and touching and feeling her tits, it was that day that he revealed that he wanted her as much as she wanted him. If he wasn't so sexually attracted to her, his mother, why would he hold her hands behind her back to rub against his cock? If he wasn't so sexually attracted to her, his mother, why would he so restrain her for him to have his wicked way with her exposed breasts?

"Because you're my mother, Mom, and not my wife and/or girlfriend," he said looking confused and looking as if he wanted to say more.

It bothered her, an understatement that he not only French kissed Cynthia but also that he had sex with that evil bitch of a cougar. Was he looking at her while hoping to convince and encourage himself to kiss her, touch her, and feel her where no son should ever touch and feel his mother while kissing her? Or was he looking at her with guilt. Unable to tell yet, if he felt so guilty about showing his sexual attraction for her by groping her and forcing her to grope him, then why did he return home? He could have stayed in California. Maybe he's just waiting for her to make the first move.

"Tell me and be honest," she said dipping her toe deeper in the incestuous waters while enjoying the warm sensation that the incestuous, sexual thoughts gave her. "Aren't you the least bit curious what it would feel like to French kiss me, your mother, in the way that you French kissed Cynthia, a woman who looks exactly like me?"

As if he was pondering her question, he returned her look of love and lust with foreboding. Then, staring at her in silence as if, perhaps, he was imagining French kissing his mother, he looked at her in a way that he's never looked at her before. Encouraged by his sensuous look and unable to stop from imagining what she hoped he was thinking, she wondered what he was thinking.

"Being that you both look so much alike, so long as I closed my eyes, I imagine kissing you would be much like kissing Cynthia, I guess," he said with a shrug. "Being that you both have the same bodies, I dare say that if I was in a darkened room with you and with my eyes closed and, so long as you didn't speak, I'd have difficulty distinguishing you from her. Yeah, definitely, I can imagine one over the other."

Now that she put her foot in this bedroom door and opened this Pandora's Box of incestuous sex, she wasn't about to withdraw her foot and/or close the box. Being that he was already in the kitchen looking for glasses for the scotch and not sitting there staring at her, she felt safely brave enough to ask him her probing question.

"Be that as it may that we are both so similar in appearance, aren't you the least bit curious what it would feel like to hold me, to touch me, and to feel me for you to distinguish how different or the same mother and wife may be?" Persevering to know what he was thinking, she made a joke out of all that she said while laughing. "Aren't you the least bit curious what I look like beneath my clothes and what I feel like when naked and in bed with you?"

He stopped what he was doing in his search for scotch glasses to peek his head in the living room from the kitchen to look at her.

"Mom?" He stepped in the living room to look at her sitting on the couch. "What are you saying?"

She looked at him excited with what she was about to say.

"Tell me and be honest. Don't worry, with both of us adults, you won't offend me by speaking your mind," she said looking at him look at her. She paused before blurting out what she was thinking. "Have you ever thought of me in a sexual way?"

Just by the look on his face, as if the image of her naked body passed over his mind, she knew that he had thought of her in a sexual way just as she had thought of him in a sexual way too, many times before, while masturbating herself. Only with one waiting for the other to make a move, she was determined to make her move so that another woman wouldn't come between her and her son in the way that Cynthia had.

"I'm going to need a drink for this conversation," he said getting two glasses, opening the bottle, and pouring two drinks. He handed a drink to his mother.

"Wow, this scotch is so smooth," she said.

"So thick, it tastes almost like syrup. It's so velvety smooth going down," said Jerry holding up his glass to look at the color in the light. "There's an explosion of flavors of toffee, chocolate, cinnamon, nutmeg, honey, citrus, almond, and fig. Wow! I love this scotch. Now I know why it's so expensive. This is the best scotch I've ever tasted."

"Forget about the scotch for a moment," she said while taking a sip of hers to see if she could detect all of the flavors that her son could. "You didn't answer my question," she persevered while sipping her scotch as if she was drinking in him.

Ready to continue this conversation and to continue where they left off five years ago on his wedding day, she looked at him and smiled.

"Question?" He took another slow sip of his scotch while looking at her. "What question was that mother?"

Laying it all out there for him to reject her and to make her feel like the incestuous whore that she felt she was, she couldn't believe she had to find the courage to ask him the same probing question again. Moreover, even more telling, she wondered what she'd say if he asked her the same question. Opening the door to their incestuous relationship, definitely she wouldn't be shy about confessing her sexual feelings for him.

"Have you ever thought of me sexually?"

With her assuming the role of prosecuting attorney, suddenly he had the look of a nervous witness on the stand asked to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help him God.

"Sure I have. Lots of times when I was younger and hornier and before I had other women in my life," he said.

Nevertheless his admission of guilt, he looked at her in the sexual way that no son should look at his mother.

"Now that we're being open and honest, there's something that I always wanted to ask you," she said taking a slow sip of her scotch while going for broke and playing for all the marbles.

Sizing him up while wondering if this was the right moment to continue this conversation, hoping that they were both ready for this open, sexual discussion, with the alcohol encouraging her to confess her lust, she took a giant step over the incestuous line.

"You can ask me anything Mom."

She looked at him looking at her before she asked her question.

"I'm just curious," she said while thinking how to phrase her question.

She took another sip of her scotch before continuing. With the alcohol already giving her the courage to ask the things that she wouldn't ordinarily ask her son, she was ready to blurt out a question that she's been wanting to have answered for five, long years.

"Curious about what mother?"

Obviously surprising him by her sexually explicit conversation and with him obviously not knowing what she'd ask and/or say next, he took a nervous sip of his scotch while eying his mother.

"In regards to Cynthia, why did you seemingly go out of your way to find a woman who looks exactly like me?" Watching his face while hoping to read him, she looked at her son's reaction to her question before continuing. When he didn't respond to her question, she continued. "Cynthia is my clone," said Janice. "We could have been sisters. With the both of us the same height, weight, dress size, hair and eye color, and bust size, we could have been identical, twin sisters."

Perhaps a little sub-conscious on his part but he looked at her as if he just had an epiphany. Maybe transposing one for the other, in the way that he was staring at her, he looked at her as if he was undressing her with his eyes while perhaps imagining his mother naked or imagining Cynthia sitting there naked too.

"Honestly and I know this sounds like a crock but it didn't occur to me that she looked so much like you until she was standing in front of me that first time we met. From her photos online, she looked beautiful and sexy. Then, when I met her in person, I couldn't believe how much she resembled you," he said. "Even though she was a lot older than me, nearly twice my age, I don't doubt that in the way that she looked so much like you is undoubtedly the reason why I was so attracted to her."

There it is. He just admitted that he was attracted to Cynthia because she looked so much like his mother. Wow! Now that she hooked him, she just needed to reel him in to land him.

"Okay," said Janice. "Thank you for that honest revelation but tell me and be honest," she said while wondering how to word what she was going to say. Instead of asking her son if he thought of her sucking him and fucking her, she toned down her sexually, inappropriate question. "When you were with her, specifically when you were having sex with her," she paused to look seductively at her son, "did you think of having sex with me?"

Jerry looked at his mother with as much shock as he looked at her with sexual excitement. With the obvious, affirmative answer all over his face, it was as if he had never contemplated and/or confronted the question until now and until after she asked it of him.

"Now that you mention it mother, perhaps because she looked so very much like you, I did think of you while having sex with her," he said taking another slow, nervous sip of his scotch. "Now that you mention it and please don't take this the wrong way," he said. He looked away from her to look down at his glass as if all of his answers were there or somewhere far away in the green, grassy, hilly fields of Scotland where they manufactured the scotch that he was sipping. "I dare say that the main reason why my marriage failed was because whenever I was with her intimately, seemingly and endlessly comparing her to you and you to her, I had you in my head. I thought more of you than I did her."

He looked up at her as if he was thinking about having sex with her now but she sidestepped his remark to make light of it when instead she wanted to grab it, shake it, run with it, and not let it or him go.

"So tell me," she said with a laugh. "How was I?"

Teasing him while slowly crossing her legs to deliberately flash him a bit of white panty, she gave her son a sexy, seductive look.

"The best sex I ever had, you were good, really good Mom," he said staring at her exposed panty while returning her laugh.

Both remained quiet until Janice spoke again.

"Staying with the topic of our discussion," she said while thinking of the game that she routinely played whenever alone, horny, and thinking of her son. "I know a game we can play."

He looked at her looking at him.

"A game? Being the competitive person that I am, I like games," he said with a sexy smile. "What sort of game?"

She paused as if she was making all of this up as she went and having never played the game with anyone but herself, indeed she was. Only, instead of playing The Pretend Game with only herself while pretending she was with her son, she was about to play The Pretend Game for real with her son.

To be continued...