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"Why not? Don't you like the color? I thought blue was your favorite color."
Holding the blouse in one hand and the skirt in her other hand, she held up the outfit to her.
"I love the color. Blue is my favorite color," she said putting her hand behind the blouse to see her fingers. "The blouse is too sheer and too low-cut," she said putting her hand behind the blouse to see her fingers. "And the skirt is too short," she said holding the skirt up to her waist. "I'd look like a twenty-something-year-old, single woman instead of a forty-something-year-old, divorced woman with a twenty-something-year-old son," she said with a sad laugh.
He laughed, too.
"That's why I chose this outfit for you to wear. You need to show off your sexy figure and your long, shapely legs. It's time that you dressed more your age than a middle-age woman," said Tommy. "You act more like a fifty-something-year-old woman when you look more like a thirty-something-year-old woman."
She laughed again.
"Thank you, but I am a middle-age woman," she said bringing him back to reality. "Sadly, I'm closer to fifty than I'm closer to thirty."
# # #
Now, it was his turn to make a sour face.
"Mom, forty-five is hardly middle-age. All the hot, sexy, celebrity women are all in their forties and some are even much older than that and are much older than you," he said. "Forty is the new thirty."
She laughed.
"Name one hot and sexy, celebrity woman in her forties," she said seeming confident that he couldn't name even one hot and sexy, celebrity woman in her forties.
"Sofia Vergara, Cameron Diaz, and Jenny McCarthy are all forty-seven-years-old," he said counting them off with his fingers. "Halle Berry is fifty-three, Catherine Zeta-Jones if fifty, Jennifer Lopez is fifty, Kate Beckinsale is forty-six, Naomi Watts is fifty-one, Salma Hayek is fifty-three, and Elle Macpherson is fifty-six," he said.
She laughed again.
"Okay, okay, I get it. You made your point," she said with a laugh.
Not done naming hot and sexy, celebrity women over forty-years-old, he continued his list.
"Elizabeth Hurley, Eva Longoria, Jennifer Connelly, Jennifer Aniston, Diane Lane, Sharon Stone, Christie Brinkley, Michelle Pfeiffer, and Jane Fonda are all much older than you. They all still look as hot as they look sexy," he said with a pause as if he was pondering having sex with them. "I'd do any one of them or all of them," he said with a dirty laugh.
Gratified that he made his mother laugh, she laughed, too.
"If I had their money for plastic surgery, Botox, skin treatments, massages, personal trainers, hair stylists, makeup artists, and designer clothes, I'd look younger too," she said with a laugh of reality.
She looked at the outfit that he bought her to wear with disapproval again while he looked at the outfit with sexual excitement. Having an ulterior motive, he hoped that she may meet a man when wearing something as flattering and as sexy as this outfit. Definitely, her meeting a man would take her mind off of her cheating husband and help her to forget the betrayals of her friends. The best way for her to forget about her bastard of a husband and her disloyal friends was to have an intimate, sexual relationship with someone.
"At least try it on."
She hugged her son and gave him a kiss on the cheek.
"Thank you for the outfit. That was very thoughtful of you. I'm going to get cleaned up first. Then, I try on your outfit. I won't promise you that I'll wear it but I will try it on and show you how it looks. Thank you," she said again.
# # #
She disappeared in the shower.
An hour later, she emerged from her bedroom with her hair and makeup done. More importantly, she was wearing his outfit. Admittedly, the skirt showed more of her shapely legs than she usually showed. The blouse showed more, sexy cleavage than she was comfortable showing, as well as the entire outline of her big brassiere. No doubt, his modestly shy mother would be wearing a jacket over her blouse.
Yet, nonetheless, her protests, she looked hot. She looked sexy. She definitely looked more like a thirty-something-year-old woman than a forty-something-year-old woman. Having missed his mother, it was nice having his MILF of a mother back again. Ready to back off and allow his mother to meet someone new, hopefully, some nice man will ask his mother to dance.
"Mom, you look so pretty. You look so hot. You look so sexy." As if having second thoughts, he paused as if rethinking what he was about to say but he blurted it out anyway. "If you weren't my mother, I'd hit on you," he said with an uncomfortable laugh while imagining making out with his mother.
Not stopping there, he imagined touching her breasts, feeling her big tits, and fingering her nipples through her blouse and bra while kissing her, French kissing her. Nothing more than his sexual fantasy, he imagined reaching his horny hand beneath her short skirt to finger her pussy through her panties. Alas, if only he could, he would, he imagined stripping his mother naked and having incestuous sex with her. Only, nothing more than a pipedream without doubt, he'd be masturbating over his sexy scenario of having sex with his MILF of a mother later.
Yet, sex with his mother was something that would never happen unless he was abandoned on a deserted island, on a cruise ship quarantined with the Coronavirus, God forbid, or trapped together in a cabin after an avalanche. Realistically, no matter where they were trapped and/or confined, forget about them having sex, she'd never even make out with him. She'd never allow him to touch and feel her in a sexual way. Unless he drugged her, she'd never allow him to strip her naked. Unless he forced his mother, which he never would, she'd never have sex with him.
Nonetheless, wanting to get her in the mood to go dancing, he grabbed her around the waist and twirled her around the living room. Something he had never done; he had never danced with his mother. Yet, now that he was holding her, with the firm, yet, soft feel of her body, and the intoxicating smell of her perfume, as if she belonged there, she felt so good in his arms.
Again, as if he suddenly had a fever, tempted to force his tongue in her mouth, he had this overwhelming urge to French kiss his mother. As if she was his woman instead of his mother, he was tempted to reach his horny hand down the back of her short skirt to cup her round and firm ass. He wished he had the inappropriate brashness to lift the back of his mother's short skirt and feel her shapely ass through her panties. He wished his mother was as sexually attracted to him as he was sexually attracted to her.
Not nearly done with the thoughts of having his sexual way with his MILF of a mother's hot body, instead of going to dinner and dancing, he wished he could have sex with her. While wondering what her reaction would be, he was tempted to raise his hand in front of her and in between them to touch and feel his mother's big breasts through her blouse and bra. Maybe, she wouldn't take him seriously and would laugh. Maybe, she'd push him away and slap him across his face.
Yet, unable to stop staring at them, whenever she was looking the other way, he loved his mother's big tits. He wondered what she looked like topless. He wondered what she looked like naked. At the very least, he'd love nothing more than to finger her erect her nipples while touching and feeling her big tits through her clothes. He'd love nothing more than to remove her blouse and her bra. He'd love to see, feel, fondle, and suck his mother's naked tits.
When he reluctantly let go of her, she fell back on the couch laughing and fanning herself with her hand. He sat across from her in his chair while staring at his beautiful and sexy mother. With the hem of her skirt askew, her short skirt was raised high enough up in front that he had a clear and continual, up-skirt view of his mother's bright, white panties.
An unexpected, sexually surprise, he couldn't believe that he was seeing his mother's panties. Wishing that he had the bold, courage to do so, he'd love to finger his mother's pussy through her panties. He'd love to fall to his knees between his mother's legs and lick his mother's pussy through her panties. He'd love to make love to his MILF of a mother before fucking her. Alas, if only she sexually wanted him as much as he incestuously wanted her, forget about finding her another man, he could make her so very happy.
Continuing to stare at her panties whenever she wasn't looking, with her panties sheer enough, he could see a patch of his mother's red, trimmed, pubic hair. Her skirt was short enough and her knees were parted open enough that she continued giving him an unintentional and uninterrupted, up-skirt view of her panties, her pussy mound, and her camel toe. Setting the stage for what would happen later, she had made him so horny. He'd love nothing more than to finger his mother's pussy while licking her pussy before fucking her cunt. He'd love nothing more than to have incestuous sex with his mother.
# # #
Once home after an evening of wining, dining, and dancing, while parked in their tree covered, privately concealed, darkened driveway, this was the moment that he would normally take his date in his arms and kiss her. Only, this wasn't just any date and she wasn't just any woman. She was his mother. Tommy was out on a date with his MILF of a mother, Maureen. Even though it felt so right, giving his mother a goodnight kiss would be so wrong.
With his feeling of foreboding overwhelming him, he suddenly felt guilty for wanting to kiss his mother. Truthfully, he wanted to do more than just kiss her. As if she was his date instead of his mother, he wanted to French kiss her while feeling her through her clothes. He wanted to undress her and have incestuous sex with her.
Something that he'd do with any other woman, he'd love nothing more than to feel her big breast through her blouse and her bra while kissing her. Again, something that he'd do with any other woman, he'd love to slide his hand up her shapely thigh and explore his mother's panty clad pussy while kissing her. Only, she wasn't any other woman. She was his mother.
Nonetheless, he felt so guilty wanting to kiss his mother. How dare he want to have sex with his mother? He felt like such a pervert wanting to touch her and feel her through her clothes while kissing her. Yet, how could something so wrong feel so right? If he didn't make his move right now and try to kiss her, he'd regret his missed, sexual opportunity later. Yet, even though he knew that she may allow him to kiss her, she'd never return his kiss with her kiss nor would she allow him to feel her through her clothes.
Yet, worth the risk of taking the chance, in the way that she was looking up at him after having shared a bottle of wine, it was now or never. This was the moment that he had been waiting and hoping to have when alone with her. This was the moment that he'd remember and masturbate over for the rest of his life or this was the moment that he'd regret forever for not trying to kiss his mother. Yet, if he didn't try and kiss her, he'd kick himself for at least not trying.
Actually, what did he have to lose? Either she'd allow him to kiss her or she wouldn't. Either she'd allow him to touch her and feel her through her clothes while kissing her or she wouldn't. If nothing else while hoping that something may eventually come of it, he'd love to show his mother how he truly felt about her. In case she was sexually attracted to him, he wanted her to know that he was sexually attracted to her.
Perhaps, in the way that she was looking at him, as if she was a sexually aroused, teenaged girl instead of a mature woman, she seemed as if she wanted and was expecting to be kissed. In the way that she was looking at him, maybe she wanted him to make a move. Maybe she wanted to make out with her. Maybe she wanted him to touch her and feel her through her clothes while kissing her. Maybe, especially with her having a couple glasses of wine, she was as sexually attracted to him as he was sexually attracted to her.
'With her so lonely and me so horny, maybe this is my chance,' he thought. 'A one-time thing, maybe my mother will give me sex. At the very least, maybe she'll allow me to have my wicked, sexual way with her naked tits. I'd love nothing more than to feel, fondle, and suck her big tits,' he thought.
# # #
Adding to the romantic moment, it was an evening unlike any other. As if arranged on a movie set, the moonlight from a full moon peeked through their car windows while the radio softly played their favorite song, 'I Will Always Love You.' Written by Dolly Parton, the song was written for her then lover, Porter Wagoner. The song was made famous by Whitney Houston in the movie, The Bodyguard, with Kevin Costner, in 1992.
Setting the romantic mood, between the song, the wine, and the moonlight, it was the perfect song at the right moment. A sign showing their love for one another and their subsequent sexual attraction, it was the right song at the right time for a mother and son to proclaim their forever, forbidden love. As if she was kissing Kevin Costner, she was swooning while singing along with the song with her eyes closed and he was sexually excited being in such close contact to his MILF of a mother.
Controlling himself from not leering over her before, for the first time tonight, he stared at the side of his mother's blouse and bra clad breast with an abnormal, sexual attraction. A big breast lover, Tommy loved tits, especially big tits and his mother had very big tits. He stared at his mother's big breasts with sexual lust and incestuous desire. He had stared at her big breasts lots of times but this time was different. This time, taking a chance, he was daring himself to touch and feel her big breast while kissing her.
With her short skirt raised to the middle of her shapely thighs and her bare knees parted, he wished he had a camera in his car positioned in between her legs. Suddenly becoming horny, he stared at his mother's sexy legs while imagining seeing her panties. Having imagined this sexual scenario plenty of times before while masturbating himself, he imagined his mother naked while having sex with her. He imagined seeing her naked breasts, her naked ass, and her naked pussy.
Making himself horny with incestuous desire for his mother, he wondered what she looked like in her panties and bra. He wondered what she looked like topless. Unable to control his sexual thoughts for her, again, he wondered what she looked like naked. He wondered what it would feel like kissing her while touching and feeling her through her clothes. He wondered what it would feel like to have sex with her.
With magic in the moonlight on such a romantic evening, as if they both wanted this and felt this, before climbing out of the car, when she opened her big, blue eyes and looked at him, he leaned into her. Then, when she leaned into him, the right thing to do at the right time, he kissed her. He kissed his mother. As if in a dreaming, he couldn't believe that he was kissing his mother. His kiss suddenly felt electrified. Sending chills down his spine and goosebumps all over his arms, Tommy kissed his mother and his mother returned his kiss with her kiss.
'Oh, my God,' he thought. 'I just kissed my mother. I can't believe that I just kissed my mother. Even more unbelievable than kissing her, she returned my kiss with her kiss. My mother kissed me. I can't believe my mother kissed me.'
Not feeling weird or perverted about kissing her, a naturally, normal thing to do at the time, it was just a kiss and nothing more than a loving show of deep affection between a mother and her son. At first, it was a polite, exploratory kiss, albeit more than peck on their lips. Then, when the alcohol from the bottle of wine they shared encouraged more than just an innocent mother and son kiss, they kissed longer. Suddenly, feeling a twinge, of incestuous, sexual desire and forbidden lust, Tommy felt his growing erection throb, pulsate, and push against his pants.
An unexpected reaction to kissing his mother, while knowing that it was wrong albeit the right opportunity to take at a time like this, as if testing the incestuous waters, he parted his mother's lips with his tongue. Something he imagined doing while masturbating himself, Tommy French kissed his mother. Lost in the moment, suddenly feeling incestuous, sexual passion for her, he couldn't believe that he was French kissing his mother. He couldn't believe that he was exploring her opened mouth with his tongue.
Yet, even more unbelievable than giving his mother a long, wet kiss, with her not rejecting his tongue with her tongue, Maureen accepted her son's tongue in her mouth. Not turning away nor stopping him, scandalously, instead of ending the lunacy there, she returned his French kiss with her French kiss. Clearly, with them both on the same sexual page, she wanted to French kiss her son as much as he wanted to French kiss his mother.
Unashamed and unembarrassed, sexually excited instead, her kisses blanked his mind. No longer thinking of her as his mother, when kissing her, he thought of her as he would any other sexually, desirable woman. As if they were boyfriend and girlfriend, lovers, or husband and wife, French kissing one another, Tommy continued making out with his MILF of a mother. Returning his French kisses with her long, wet kisses, Maureen continued making out with her son. Kissing and kissing one another, he couldn't believe that he was making out with his mother and his mother was making out with him.
Something unplanned and unanticipated when inviting his mother out to dinner and dancing to ease her pain and improve her mood, as if it was meant to be, not expecting to kiss her, it just unexpectedly happened. For sure, in the way that he was romantically thinking about his mother, she wasn't hatefully thinking about her cheating husband and/or the betrayals of her disloyal friends. Now, in the way that he was sexually thinking about her as his incestuous lover, clearly, judging her by her long, wet kisses, she was sexually thinking about him as her forbidden lover, too.
'I can't believe I'm kissing my mother,' he thought with impassioned, sexual excitement while continuing to kiss her. 'I can't believe I'm French kissing her. I can't believe she's returning my French kisses with her long, wet kisses. I can't believe I'm making out with my mother and she's making out with me.'
# # #
Hoping she'd allow him, wanting to take the next sexually, forbidden step, he wanted to touch and feel her through her clothes. He wanted to touch, feel, and fondle her breasts through her blouse and bra. Not stopping with just kissing her, French kissing her, when she continued kissing him, waiting for the right moment, he continued kissing her while biding his time.
Difficult to assimilate all that happened in such a short amount of time, mother and son were making out with one another. He couldn't believe that she was allowing him to make out her and that she was willingly making out with him. With him horny and her lonely, she consensually continued to return his French kisses with her deep, wet kisses. Something he'd never forget; he'd be masturbating over this night for the rest of his life.
'My mother not only kissed me but also, she French kissed me. Wow,' he thought.
Then, while continuing to make out with her, as if expecting to feel electrified, barbed wire, he ever so slowly moved his horny hand down from her slim and shapely shoulder. As if deftly feeling for an explosive device in a minefield, while continuing to French kiss her, he felt the side of his mother's, big, D cup breast through her blouse and bra. Obviously Irish with her beautiful, long, lush, thick, red hair and her freckles, she had the huge breasts of an Irish milkmaid.
