Spending My Summer Stripping My Mom

Back then, she used to walk around the house topless, even naked sometimes, in front of me. I was her son, her flesh and blood. Trusting me not to wildly desire her, it was all innocent really. Still, she should have known better. Why would she do that? She was driving me mad with desire for her.

Without giving it any thought, she'd change her clothes with her bedroom door open or emerge from the bathroom, after having taken a shower with just a towel over her hair. We only had the one bathroom and it wasn't unusual for me to wait outside the bathroom door for her to be done, so that I could pee. Sometimes, I'd pretend I had to pee so bad that she'd let me inside and I'd always tried to sneak a peek of her in the shower.

Abruptly, she stopped exposing herself to me, when she noticed she was giving me an erection. What was she thinking? How could she not know that seeing her topless or naked would give me incestuous thoughts?

Maybe that was her game to keep me there and keep me interested. Maybe she knew all along what she was doing. Maybe she was trying to drive me mad with incestuous desire for her, so that I'd stay and wouldn't stray with another woman. Maybe she was lonely, and she was, and was hoping I'd make the first move, but I never did, that is, unless she was drunk and sleeping and I was stripping her. Maybe it was her plan to seduce me, all along, but I never saw it that way.

She was my Mom, my Mommy, and I always blamed myself for trying to see what I wasn't suppose to see and trying to touch what I wasn't supposed to touch. I felt even worse when I exposed my cock to her hoping that she'd touch me in a way that no mother should ever touch her son. Always feeling guilty for my inappropriate thoughts and my bad behavior in wanting my mother the way I did, I was wrong for acting out my thoughts and making my sexual urges a reality. Thinking of her as the innocent victim, thinking of her as my Mom, and thinking of me as the bad son, I was the perverted one and not her.

She was my Mom. She was always the innocent one. I was the one taking advantage of her. I couldn't help myself. I needed to see her naked. I needed to touch her. I needed for her to see me naked. I needed for her to touch me. Then, when I did see her naked and felt her naked body, I felt so guilty and dirty inside. Yet, those bad feelings never stopped me from needing to see her naked and needing to touch her again.

When she stopped walking around the house topless or naked, I remember feeling disappointed. I felt guilty wondering if I was the reason why she felt uncomfortable being topless or naked around me. Suddenly, I felt cheated out of seeing the semi-nude and nude show of her that I needed to see to stroke away my incestuous excitement of her four times a day. She started walking around in her housecoat, instead. She didn't wear anything underneath, no panty and no bra, and always two of her buttons were undone, one by her breast and one by her crotch.

I was so naive. In my innocence I figured, since she had big tits, that she needed to unbutton the button by her breasts because the housecoat was too tight otherwise. I figured she needed to unbutton the button by her crotch to give her enough room to sit. What did I know? I never would have suspected that she was trying to flash me her pussy and tits, but she was.

Always looking, always staring, and leering at her, every time she sat, I was treated to side flashes of her trimmed, red pussy. Every time she stood, I saw the side of her breast. When she moved about our small house, especially stretching to reach for something or leaning down to pick up something, I was treated to continual flashes of her pubic hair and nipples. Being flashed in that way, to see bits and pieces of her through the unbuttoned buttons of her housecoat, rather than seeing her totally naked, was so much more erotic.

I constantly masturbated over all that I saw of her. It was a vicious cycle. The more I saw of her body, the more I masturbated. The more I masturbated, the more I wanted to see. My incestuous lust for her was never ending and all consuming.

I tried not to make it appear so obvious that I was looking, but I was and she caught me a few times. Whenever she caught me, she'd button her buttons. Yet, the next day, when she wore that same housecoat or a different one, those same two buttons were unbuttoned. It excited me to know she was going to spend the day flashing me her pussy and tits again.

I was so crazy with lust for her that I remember even removing those two buttons on one of her housecoats, so that, if she caught me looking, she couldn't button them again. Once, when her housecoat was hanging up behind the bathroom door, after suspecting her of purposely flashing me, I remember checking the buttons to see if they'd come undone on their own. Unable to prove or disprove my suspicions of her purposely flashing me, the buttons were lose alright. Yet, were they already loose like that or did she loosen them by wiggling them and/or by stretching the buttonhole, so that they'd always unbutton on their own?

Any time she walked by the living room windows in the early morning, the sun would light her up, as if she was on fire. I could see through her housecoat and see her curvaceous body, as if she was naked. Every time she leaned in the refrigerator with the kitchen light off or stood in front of the television at night, I could see the naked outline of her through her housecoat. Always horny, insane with incestuous thoughts for my Mom, I was always looking to see what I could use later, while masturbating over the thoughts of touching her and of her sucking my cock.

She always showed more when she was drinking, especially when she was drunk. Happy to oblige, she'd ask me to make her a drink and I always made it a double. Then, once she had a couple of drinks, while watching TV and snuggling together with her on the couch, I used to cop feels of her body by hugging her and tickling her.

A dangerous game of incest, it was an erotic game that I played with her to satisfy my need to see more of her, while touching her. Each time I tickled her, each time, I cuddled with her, gradually, I'd raise the hem of her housecoat just a little higher. Most times she never noticed. Most times, she never fluffed it back down and I'd rest my head on her naked thigh, while watching TV.

When her housecoat was raised high enough, knowing she never wore panties beneath her housecoat, any time I turned my head to her, I had the perfect, unobstructed view between her legs. Then, when she'd fall asleep is when I'd raise her housecoat even higher to expose her pussy or unbutton a strategic button to see more of her tits. Afraid to touch her for fear of awakening her, I just stared and jerked off later over all that I saw of her.

It was innocent, I made myself believe, a son tickling his mother, only I wasn't so innocent. I was 20-years-old, a grown man. Always, in tickling her, making it appear accidental, I made sure that I saw as much of her as I could and felt as much of her tits as I could without arousing her suspicion but enough to sexually arouse me. I knew she'd never accuse me of trying to grope her. I was her son. She trusted me not to take advantage of her, but I did; I always did.

I was never blatant about my intention, but I always managed to feel enough of her to give me a sense of her breasts. After our game of tickling ended, I'd go back to my room and play with myself, while thinking of touching my mother and thinking what I'd do next. Always, when masturbating over her, I'd remember back and think about her topless and/or walking around the house naked. I was such a horny dork back then. Nothing has changed. I still am.

Yet, I always wondered if she knew I was trying to feel her body. Seriously, how could she not know? What I didn't feel of her with my fingers and hand, I felt of her with my forearms, shoulder, and ribs. It's funny how guys can feel nearly every part of a woman's body with nearly any part of their body.

I always wondered if she knew I jerked off over the thoughts of touching her, when I did feel and see something that I shouldn't have seen or felt. The walls in our house are paper thin, she must have heard me playing with my cock and cumming? I always wondered if she enjoyed me touching her, as much as I enjoyed touching her.

She never wore nightgowns, just those damn housecoats. Definitely, I may have seen more if she had worn a sheer nightgown but with my luck, she'd wear a bathrobe over it. Now, that I think about it, maybe that's why she only wore housecoats, so that she could flash me more of her body without me suspecting that she was flashing me.

In the summertime, she slept naked and she'd leave her bedroom door open for the cross breeze. Pretending I had to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night, I was always sneaking down the hallway trying to steal peeks of her naked body, but it was always too dark to see clearly. By the time it was light enough to see, she was already up and downstairs having coffee.

After a while, I thought, two can play this game. When we sat on the couch watching television I always wore my pajama bottoms and a tee shirt. I removed my underwear on the chance that my Mom would inadvertently touch or accidentally grab my cock, whenever she returned my tickles. A few times, when she reached to tickle my upper thighs or my lower waist, she did accidentally touched me and immediately I had an erection from her brief touch.

Wanting her to see my cock, I always hoped my cock would pop out of my pajama pee hole and, a couple of times, it did. With the thoughts of masturbating over it later, I wanted to see her reaction but she didn't notice or pretended not to notice my exposed cock. If she did notice it, she never mentioned that she had nor did I ever mention when I saw something of her that I shouldn't have seen. Not wanting to ruin the show, I thought it best to pretend I didn't see anything of her either. She never stared, in the way that I stared at her, whenever I saw something of her that a son should never see of his mother. Whenever my cock was so exposed, I was hoping she'd grab it, stroke it, and suck it, but she never did.

After seeing so much of my Mom over the years, it was my turn to play her incestuous game of teasing. I started leaving my bedroom door open when changing my clothes. I started walking out of the bathroom, after having taken a shower with just a towel drying my hair. I started flashing her my cock, whenever I thought I could get away with it without it looking like I was doing it on purpose and looking like the pervert that I was.

A few times, I caught her looking at my cock. A few times I caught her staring at my erection. Sometimes, when she was in a playful mood and especially if she had been drinking, she'd slap my naked ass and/or chase me back in my room tickling me, while I was still naked. I'd fall back on the bed and pull her with me. We'd briefly wrestle, until she got up and left my room closing my door. She made me so horny.

One morning, I woke up with a huge erection. I was so horny. My Mom was already up reading the paper and having her coffee, her routine. I went downstairs with my cock poking straight out through my pee hole. I was so nervous. I was so excited. With my incestuous lust for her boiling over, insane with my desire for her, I was determined for her to see my cock up close, so that I could masturbate later over her reaction to seeing it.

Her back was to me, when I walked in the kitchen. I grabbed a cup and poured myself some coffee. My routine was to ask her if she wanted a second cup of coffee and I did.

"Are you ready for your second cup, Mom."

With my back turned to her, I looked over at her and watched her look down at her empty cup.

"Sure, Sam," she said pushing her cup out a few inches from her.

When I walked to her to pour her more coffee, my cock was staring her straight in the face. It couldn't be any closer to her mouth. If I had put a hand to the back of her head, it wouldn't be a stretch for me to imagine her taking me in her mouth and blowing me.

"Sammy, you're all exposed," she said with a laugh. "Put that thing away," she said flipping at it with her fingertips.

"Sorry, Mom," I said taking my time putting down the coffeepot on the table, while she continued staring at my exposed cock. I masturbated over her seeing and touching my cock for years.

"Jimmy always had morning wood," she said watching me stuffing my cock back in my pajama bottoms.

"Eww, Mom. I really don't want to hear about your ex-boyfriend's morning wood. Okay?"

Maybe I was jealous that Jimmy had hot sex with my Mom. I heard them sometimes, when they thought I was sleeping. She was always blowing Jimmy and I always masturbated over the sound of them, while wishing it was me she was blowing.

I remember her always hanging out by the pool in her bikini. She was so beautiful. She was so hot. Back then, twenty years ago, she had an incredible ass and still does, an ass that any twenty-year-old woman would love to have. She used to do yoga, but she stopped all that when her boyfriend left her. Whenever she did yoga, I'd watch her. Showing her nipples, ass crack, and pussy slit, she'd wear those skintight leotards that were so revealing that I couldn't help but imagine her naked body.

I remember always telling her she didn't look her age, but she never believed me. She thought I was just saying that to make her feel better because I was her son. She had just turned the big four-Oh and was depressed, which explained why there was always an empty wine bottle beside her chaise lounge. She never used to drink, but she drank a lot back then. Her drinking started when her boyfriend dumped her for a younger woman, a 22-year-old slut of a woman, when he was 44-year-old, the pig.

I remember liking her when she drank. She was fun and funny in an endearing sort of way. Other than having the opportunity to strip her naked and to see and feel her naked body, I never liked her when she was drunk, though. When she laid out in the hot sun drinking, she allowed me to put sunscreen on her and I'd take advantage of her by touching her where no son should touch his mother. Only, the more I touched of her, the more I wanted to touch her, and the more I masturbated over what I felt of her. I remember always wishing she'd touch me but, except for giving me hugs and kisses on the cheek, you know, Mom stuff, she never did.

I never met my Dad. He took off the day she told him she was pregnant. After I was born, because she was blessed with a great body, she used to strip at the club to make money but, as we both grew older, she stopped stripping. The men who frequented those clubs wanted younger women. So, she took a respectable office job, as a secretary, after she graduated from night school to train to use a computer and to learn how to type.

Shortly after she took the job as a secretary, she married her boss, but he was killed in a car accident on the way home from working late one night. Having had the foresight to take out a hefty insurance policy, he left her a pile of dough and she received more money, when she sold his business. She wasn't rich by any measure, but she didn't have to work again, unless she wanted.

Yet, to me, even though, she's sixty-years-old now, she still looks hot. She doesn't look her age. She looks ten years younger and if I saw her on the street and didn't know how old she was, I'd think she was forty-something. If I saw her in a club, I'd hit on her. She still looks good.

I remember back then, seeing some naked photos of her that she sent to a few guys on some online dating site. She never knew that I had the password to her e-mail account. She'd kill me, if she knew that I had invaded her privacy by reading her e-mails. She'd kill me, if she knew I had jerked off over her naked photos.

She'd think she failed me somehow. She'd think that she made me into the pervert that she said my Dad was. Even though I spied on my Mom hoping to see what I shouldn't have seen, even though I touched my Mom where no son should have been allowed to touch his mother, and even though I jerked off over my Mom, I never thought of myself as a pervert, not really. I was just so horny back then and we were always alone and together. Without doubt, it was the age and the hormones with all those testosterones surging through my body that made me insane with incestuous lust and sexual desire for my mom.

I remember always having to collect her, before she got too much sun. Light skinned and easily sunburned, she was a redhead and had a lot of freckles. I didn't want her to burn. I didn't want her to get sun damage and cancer. Even though I took sexual advantage of my Mom, I took care of her, especially when she was going through her bad time. I loved her.

Then, one day, while I was making love to my Mom, as soon as she started to cum, she opened her eyes and let out a scream.

"Samuel! Get off me!"

Only, I couldn't. I had gone this far and I couldn't be denied.

"Mom, I love you," I said trying to kiss her again with my cock still buried in her pussy. She turned her away and tried to push me off of her.

"Samuel! Get off me!"

"Fuck me Mommy. Fuck me. Pretend I'm Jimmy. I don't care. Just fuck me."

"Samuel! No! This is wrong. Get off me now," she said as her voice faded and she started getting sexually excited again.

"Kiss me, Mommy."

She wouldn't kiss me, but I turned her chin and planted one on her. Then, she wouldn't give me her tongue, but I forced my tongue in her mouth. We were kissing, French kissing now. We kissed again and again, as we fucked. Then, it happened. She had an orgasm and another one, before I exploded all that I had in her pussy.

Finally, it was over. I had my way with my mother. She gave me a drunken hand job and an unconscious blowjob and then, she fucked me silly, until we both were satisfied.

"This can never happen again," she said sitting up and trying to get up off the bed.

Now that I finally had her with her eyes open, I was so hot for her. I pulled her back down and started sucking her nipples. She started slapping at me, but then she wrapped her hand around the back of my head and pulled me closer. Then, we kissed again. I pushed down on her shoulder and she took my hint. She started blowing me again. My Mom was really sucking my cock, this time. I so wanted to cum in her mouth. I needed to know what that felt like to cum in my mother's mouth and then, I did.

Oh, my God, I had so much cum. Where did all that cum come from? When I shot my load in my mother's mouth, it startled her and she briefly pulled away, until I put a hand to the back of her head and fucked her mouth. There was no way that I was going this far and not cumming off in my mother's mouth. I wouldn't let go of her, until she swallowed me and she did.

Having sex with my Mom, my summer lovin', if you want to call it that, had a positive effect on my Mom. She cleaned up her act. She stopped drinking and our relationship changed from incestuous to loving. I got girlfriend, became engaged, and then got married. Only, something very strange happened. Now that I have another woman in my life, now that I no longer live with my mother and we live apart, and now that I no longer want my Mom in the way that I did before, she became insanely jealous.

"Listen, Sam, I don't care if have a relationship with your wife, but you must take care of me, too."

What? Is she serious? I couldn't believe my Mom was giving me a sexual ultimatum.

"What do you mean, Mom?"

Excited, embarrassed, and definitely uncomfortable at the same time, I had so many raw feeling and pure emotions. I'll always love my Mom and I still had sexually feelings for her, especially when I was horny, when my wife wasn't putting out from not being in the mood or when having her period. Whenever and whatever her excuse not to take care of my sexual needs, my thoughts always turned to my Mom and I'd start masturbating over the thoughts of having incestuous sex with my Mom again.