A Lonely Mom, a Horny Son, and Xmas

There's no greater bond than a mother and her son.

Even though it may be sexually exciting to some and make for good masturbation material for others, nonetheless, it's not normal to have sex with one's mother, just as it's not normal to have sex with one's son. There are as many who think that incestuous sex between a blood related relative is not only wrong but nasty as there are those who believe that adult, consensual, incestuous sex is sexually exciting. Yet, in most states and countries, incestuous sex between blood related relatives is not only expressly forbidden but also illicitly illegal.

Yet, sometimes, especially after drinking a little wine, and after some innocent up-skirt and down-blouse teasing, sex just happens, even between a mother and son. A lonely mom, a horny son, and Xmas is a formula for incestuous sex. Yet, who would know that a lonely mother and a horny son had incestuous sex? Unless you were there with them, unless you saw them sucking, licking, and fucking, unless you heard them, who would know what goes on behind closed, bedroom doors?

"Mom, suck my cock. Blow me. I need to cum in your beautiful mouth," said Anthony while masturbating himself when imagining his mother naked and having sex with him.

What started out as just innocently sleeping together in the same bed to comfort one another and for Mom to finally get a good night's sleep turned into a passionate, Christmas Eve of incestuous sex. What started out as holding, hugging, cuddling, and spooning turned into groping, fingering, stroking, licking, sucking, fucking, and into something more forbidden. Whether it was right or wrong, whether it was preplanned or not, a mother and son sleeping in the same bed together turned into sex, incestuous sex.

# # #

A Lonely Mom, a Horny Son, and Xmas

"Mom?" Anthony looked at his mother, Samantha, with concern, love, incestuous lust, and horniness.

In the way that he always looked at her, yet not allowing her to catch him leering, he looked at her as if he was undressing her with his eyes while imagining having sex with her naked body. A natural blonde, she had big, tits and bright, blue eyes. She was so pretty. A shapely body with D cup breasts, she was so sexy. Anthony wished he could find a woman who looked like his mother.

More than just sexually attracted to his mother, Anthony was in love with his mother in the way that a man loves a woman and not in the way that a son should love his mother. When he wasn't masturbating over the thoughts of his mother naked while having sex with her, he was trying to peep on her to see whatever he could see of her. He'd give anything to see his mother in her panties and bra, topless, and/or naked. He'd give anything to have sex with his MILF of a mother's sexy and shapely body.

Unfortunately, knowing that she didn't share his sexual attraction and would never have sex with him, he wished he could find a younger woman in the image of his mother. Pretending that she was his mother, he wished he could find a woman who looked like her, talked like her, laughed like her, and walked like her. Saving himself from having perverse, sexual thoughts of having an incestuous relationship with his mother, he wished he could find her clone.

With the billions of women in the world, surely, there must be a woman who's his mother's twin. He wished he could find someone more his age and someone who's not blood related. He wished he could find a hot, sexy, and beautiful woman who wanted to have sex with him as much as he wanted to have sex with her.

# # #

His favorite holiday, Anthony loved Christmas as much as his mother loved Christmas. Yet, holidays changed when his mother divorced his father for cheating on her. With holidays never the same, he needed to inject some Christmas spirit in his mother. Somehow, he needed to make her happy from being so sad.

He couldn't wait to exchange Christmas gifts with her tomorrow morning. Wondering what she bought him for Christmas, he bought her perfume, a flannel nightgown, expensive chocolates, a fragrant candle, and a glass snow globe of the ice-skating rink at Rockefeller Center in New York. Seemingly not much but a lot of money spent on his mother from out of his meager budget, he was still trying to find a job after having recently graduated college.

While sitting across from her in the living room, taking his mother's image all in, he stared over at her. Lost in thought on Christmas Eve, with her breaking his heart, she looked so sad when she should look so happy. Instead of enjoying the holidays, she was always sad around the holidays. Not much of a drinker during the year, she drank more on her birthday, Thanksgiving, Christmas, and New Year's Eve. Obviously, with her not having a man in her life and him not having a woman in his life, the perfectly depressing pair, she was as lonely as he was horny.

If only he wasn't her son, he could help her from being sad and lonely. If only she wasn't his mother, she could help him from being sexually frustrated and horny. Yet, even with him her son and her his mother, how hot would that be to sleep together and have sex? Only, as much as he'd willingly want to have sex with his mother, she'd never have sex with him.

"Sorry, Anthony," she said as if he had startled her awake. "Did you say something?"

Accustomed to her sadly depressed mood swings, she was like this every holiday. He gave her an understanding look and a compassionate smile. He wished there was something he could say to get her out of her funk. He wished there was something he could do to make her happy. He wished there was something he could say and/or do to make her excited about life and about Christmas, her favorite holiday, again.

Out of the question except in his sexual fantasies, perhaps, allowing her to forget her sadness and alleviating his horniness, he wished he could give his mother sex. After stripping her naked while kissing her and touching and feeling her everywhere, he wished he could give her a sexual orgasm. He wished he could give her multiple, sexual orgasms with is fingers, his tongue, and his cock. Wondering what she looked like and sounded like when cumming, he'd love to see her and hear her cum.

Alas, him having sex with his mother may not make her happy but him having sex with his mother would surely make him happy. Yet, as soon as he had the thought of having sex with his MILF of a mother, his sexual excitement was replaced with guilt. As soon as he thought of humping his mother's mouth and/or her pussy with his hard, erect prick, he admonished himself for having the forbidden thoughts of having sex with his mother.

'What kind of son am I to have such forbidden, incestuous, sexual thoughts for my mother,' he thought while berating himself? 'How dare I disrespect my mother in that incestuously forbidden way?'

Besides, just as she'd never allow him to even French kiss her while touching and feeling her everywhere through her clothes, she'd never allow him to strip her naked. Even though he'd willingly and happily have sex with her, she'd never have sex with him. He may be an incestuous pervert but she wasn't an incestuous whore. She was a good, kind, and morally modest woman. She was his mother.

Guilty for sexually wanting his mother, what's wrong with him for wanting to have sex with her? What's wrong with him for constantly and continually masturbating over her while imagining her naked and having sex with her? When he's not sexually fantasizing making love to her, he's sexually fantasizing fucking her. When he's not imagining fingering and licking her pussy, he's imagining her stroking and sucking his cock.

None of his friends talk about their mothers in the way that he thinks about his Mom. Yet, if they had a mother who looked like his mother, they'd want to have sex with her too. If they had a mother who looked like his mother, they'd imagine her naked while having sex with her too. If they had a mother who looked like his mother, they'd be masturbating and cumming over the thoughts of her naked and having sex with her too.

"What's wrong, Mom? Tell me. Maybe I can help. Maybe there's something that I can do," he said while imagining his mother naked and having sex with her.

'Give me sex. Fuck me, Anthony. Please fuck me,' he imagined her saying. 'Hump me harder. Fuck me faster. Give me a sexual orgasm with your cock. Make me cum, Anthony. Make Mommy cum.'

# # #

Ready to repeat his question when she didn't respond, his excuse to stare at whatever he hoped to see of his mother, he stared at her while wondering what was wrong. In the way that he always stared at her before as if undressing her with his eyes while imagining her naked and having sex with her beautiful body, he stared at her now. Especially in the soft light of the Christmas tree and in the flickering glow of the fireplace, she looked like an airbrushed model posing for a fashion magazine. She looked like a celebrity ready to be photographed by the Paparazzi.

'With the Christmas tree the perfect backdrop, I wish I could photograph my mother in her bra and panties, topless, and/or naked,' he thought. 'How hot would that be to have sexy Christmas cards made of my naked mother? Merry Christmas from Samantha and Anthony,' he imagined sending out Christmas cards of him and his naked mother to all of his envious friends.

Instead of Samantha being his mother, he wished she was his girlfriend. Instead of just giving her a Christmas peck on the lips, he wished he could take her in his arms and kiss her, really kiss her, French kiss her. Not taking much to get him going, he imagined holding her as if he was her lover. He imagined staring into her big, blue eyes and parting her lips with his tongue while touching her and feeling her everywhere through her clothes. If only he could have sex with her, unembarrassed and unashamed, he'd have sex with his mother.

Only, he knew his mother didn't share his wanton lust and sexual desire for him in the way that he did for her. He didn't have to be a physic to know that his mother wouldn't appreciate her son French kissing her, incestuously lusting over her, and imagining her naked while touching her and feeling her everywhere. Sadly, and sexually frustratingly, he knew his mother wasn't sexually attracted to him in the way that he was sexually attracted to her.

Unless she was drunk, drugged, and/or vulnerable, and unless she didn't know who he was and where she was, something that only happened in his sexual fantasies, she'd never have sex with him. Nonetheless, he imagined taking sexual advantage of her. He imagined stripping her naked. Under the pretense of what was good for him was good for her, he imagined taking her and forcing her to have sex with him.

Yet, especially during the turbulent times of the #MeToo movement, what kind of son would take sexual advantage of his mother when she was inebriated? He could never face her the next morning knowing that he had stripped her naked and had sex with her beautiful body while she was drunk. With her never forgiving him, he'd ruin whatever mother and son relationship they now enjoyed.

Even though it was hot to masturbate over imagining having forbidden sex with his mother, he'd always regret the day that he had sex with her. He'd forever regret the day that he got her drunk, stripped her naked, and forced his erect cock in her hand, in her mouth, and in her cunt. Forget about stripping her naked, he knew she'd never allow him to even French kiss her. He knew she'd never allow him to touch her, feel her, fondle her, and grope her through her clothes.

Nonetheless, he wished he could touch and feel her everywhere a son should never touch, feel, fondle, and grope his mother. Even though he knew his mother was sad and lonely, something so very forbidden, she'd never have sex with him, her own son. If only he could have sex with her, not only would that cure his horniness and make him happy but hopefully, perhaps she wouldn't feel as sad and as lonely. Yet, he could still fantasize having sex with her while masturbating himself.

# # #

"Wrong? There's nothing wrong," said Samantha looking up from staring in the fireplace to look at her son.

She forced a sad smile. As sullen as she was unhappy, obviously, she was lying. Obviously, there was something wrong. He wished he could fix whatever was wrong with his mother. Even if only for one night, he wished he could be her man, her dream man. He wished he could have sex with her.

He wished his mother sexually wanted him as much as he sexually wanted her. He wished he could be his mother's lover. Allowing her to forget her sadness for one night, he wished he could give his mother sexual pleasure. He wished he could give her multiple, sexual orgasms with his fingers, his tongue, and his cock. He wished he could make her cum. He wished his mother would give him multiple, sexual orgasms with her hand, her mouth, and her cunt. He wished she'd make him cum.

With him of the age that he believed that everything could be fixed with sex, if he couldn't have sex with his mother, he'd settle for seeing her naked. Giving him fodder for masturbation, he'd love to see his mother naked. He'd love to see her beautiful, sexy, and shapely body in all of her natural splendor. He'd love to see her big, naked tits, her areolas, her nipples, and her shapely ass. Wondering if she was shaved, bushy, or trimmed, he'd love to see his mother's naked pussy.

Perhaps, if she drank enough wine, she'd allow him to help her to bed. Perhaps, if she drank enough wine, she'd allow him to undress her as she slept while he touched and felt his mother everywhere a son should never touch and feel his mother. Perhaps, if she was drunk, turning the tables on him and with the onus on her, she'd be the one who'd sexually take advantage of him. Only, she'd never sexually touch him in the way that he wished he could sexually touch her.

"You look so sad, Mom," said Anthony.

Basking in the bright, flickering fire of the fireplace and in the glistening glow of the Christmas tree, she looked like a movie star in the soft lighting of a Hollywood studio. With no woman as beautiful and as sexy as his mother, she was stunningly lovely. She was as beautiful as any movie star and as sexy as any Hollywood celebrity. If Santa granted him one Christmas wish, as perversely perverted as it sounded, Anthony wished he could have sex with his mother.

'And what is your Christmas wish,' he imagined Santa asking him.

'I'd like to have sex with my mother, Santa,' he imagined say.

'Me too,' he imagined Santa responding after seeing his mother.

# # #

He wished he could ever so slowly strip her naked while touching her, feeling her, fondling her, and caressing her everywhere. He wished he could kiss her, French kiss her. He wished she'd sexually want him enough to return his deep, wet kisses. Even though she was a good mother, the best Mom, he wished that Samantha wasn't his mother but his lover. Only, too good to be true to have a mother who looked like her, a woman who looked like her would never be alone with him unless she was his mother.

A natural blonde, she reminded him of Gillian Darmody, played by Gretchen Mol, in Boardwalk Empire albeit with much larger breasts. Beyond his immature comprehension, he didn't understand why someone who looked like her was alone. He didn't understand why his 44-year-old mother was home alone with her 22-year-old son during the holidays. He didn't understand why she didn't have a steady boyfriend. Moreover, kettle black, he didn't have a steady girlfriend either. Yet, his choice, Anthony would rather spend his time with his mother than with any other woman.

With him not having a steady girlfriend, if she wasn't his mother, not caring that she was much older, he'd date her. For sure, if she wasn't his mother, with her obviously unable to cross the incestuous line by having forbidden sex with him, he'd do her. He'd masturbate her, eat her, make love to her, and fuck her. He'd give her a Christmas that she'd never soon forget. Alas, too bad she was his mother. He could only imagine how amazing it would be to have hot sex with her.

"Sorry for being sad on Christmas, Anthony. I'm sorry for ruining your holiday," she said sighing while giving him another forced smile before falling sullenly silent again and before offering him insight into her morose mood. "I was thinking about past Christmases," she said. "I was thinking about happier times with your father," she said pausing to let out a sad sigh. "Sometimes, I'm lonely. Sometimes, I miss him. Sometimes, I wish he was here."

Every time she thought about her ex-husband, she became sad. Every time she thought about his father, he became angry. A truly beautiful, sexy, and shapely woman, she could compete with any woman her age and younger but when her husband abandoned her for his 25-year-old, whore of a secretary, there wasn't much she could do but to file for divorce.

Even though their breakup happened four, long, painful, and tearful years ago, still fresh in her mind, obviously, she still loved him. Obviously, she still missed him. Obviously, she was still hurt not only by his cheating but also by his ultimate betrayal and his rejection of her. His father was such an asshole for treating her in such a deplorable way. If she was his woman, he'd never cheat on her. If she was his woman instead of his mother, he'd be the happiest man on Earth.

# # #

Nothing more than a sexual fantasy, Anthony wished his mother romantically thought of him in the way that she longingly yearned over his father and in the way that he sexually lusted over her. With him now the man of the house, he'd love nothing more than to hold her, hug her, and comfort her. Nothing more than wishful thinking, he wished he could take the place of his father. Having a touch of an Oedipus complex, he'd love nothing more than to sleep in his mother's bed and cuddle up against her while spooning her and feeling her as she slept.

'How hot would that be to sleep in the same bed with my mother,' he thought? 'How hot would that be to feel her naked ass and feel her naked breasts through her nightgown? How hot would that be to rub my naked prick against the back of my mother's naked pussy?'

With him always having forbidden sexual thoughts and incestuous, sexual fantasies, he wished he could be his mother's lover instead of his mother's son. He'd love to sleep in the same bed with her. Yet, even though it would be wrong for him to have sex with her, he'd love nothing more than to have incestuous sex with his MILF of a mother. He'd love to make out with her while touching and feeling her everywhere. He'd love his mother to return his kisses while touching and feeling him everywhere too.

Sexually exciting himself while imagining his mother naked, willing, and vulnerable, he'd love to strip her naked. He'd love to give her multiple, sexual orgasm with his fingers, his tongue, and his cock. He'd love to make love to her before fucking her fast and hard. He'd love to cum in his mother's cunt. With her returning the sexual favor, he'd love for her to stroke him while sucking him. He'd love to cum in his mother's mouth.

'Cum, Anthony. Cum for your mother,' he imagined her saying while encouraging him to cum. 'Cum in my mouth. Cum in Mommy's mouth. I want you to cum in my mouth. I need to taste you. I need to swallow you.'

With her fake smile not fooling him one bit, and with her unable to hide her sadness, especially around the holidays, he knew she was hurting. A time when she was the most vulnerable, he hoped she'd consume enough wine to at least flash him some part of her beautiful, underwear clothe or naked body that he shouldn't be allowed to see. Even though he knew she wouldn't, fuck the #MeToo movement, he wished she'd consume enough wine to allow him to take sexual advantage of her.