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Yet, continuing his sexual fantasy of massaging his naked mother nonetheless, the imagined thought of massaging her naked body was nearly as good as her allowing him to masturbate her naked body. If he couldn't draw her a bubble bath and/or give her a full body, naked massage, he still imagined that she would. He imagined drying her wet, naked body with a towel. He imagined stealthily moving his hand to her most sacred of body parts, her pussy. He imagined masturbating his mother and giving her a massage with a happy ending.
'Oh, James! James! I'm going to cum. I'm going to cum. Rub my clit faster while fingering my pussy deeper,' he imagined his mother saying all that he'd love to hear. 'I'm cumming, James. I'm cumming. Lick me, James. Lick me while fingering my pussy. Be a good son and eat your mother's cunt, James,' he imagined her instructing him.
Then, after he masturbated her, he imagined his mother still being just as horny as he was. He imagined his mother removing his cock from his jeans and underwear and taking him in her hand to stroke him. While continuing to stroke him faster and harder, he imagined her taking him in her mouth to suck him. One of his favorite sexual fantasies to masturbate over, he imagined his mother blowing him. He imagined cumming in her mouth and all over her pretty face. He imagined making love to her before fucking her. With not a chance of any of that happening, it was sexually exciting fun to imagine that it would.
# # #
She looked at him and smiled while leaning forward in her chair as if it was her turn to make a word when playing Scrabble. A daily event since he moved home, as if they were a retired married couple, when they weren't watching movies on Netflix or on Amazon Fire TV together, they played Scrabble every day. With them both competitive, they took turns in who'd win depending who got the better letters, the J, K, Q, X, Z, S's and blanks and who made a seven-letter, fifty bonus point word.
Just as she was doing when leaning forward now, every time she leaned forward to make her words, she'd inadvertently flash him her cleavage and bra in a down-blouse view of her tits. Just as he was doing when she leaned forward now, he stared at all that he could see of her down her blouse. In the way that he couldn't remove his eyes from her an up-skirt peek of her panties, he was unable to remove his stare from the down-blouse view of her cleavage and bra that she continually gave him.
In the way that he wondered if his mother was deliberately flashing him her panties whenever she crossed and uncrossed her legs, he wondered if she was deliberately flashing him her breasts whenever she leaned forward. Whether seeing his mother's panty clad pussy or her bra clad tits, he loved seeing whatever he could see of his mother. If only for masturbation fodder later, he always imagined seeing more than he had seen when stroking his cock.
Even though he had never seen his mother's naked breasts, always wanting to and hoping one day to see them, he loved her big tits. Depending on the bra manufacturer, she wore bras that were either a C cup or a D cup. Every time she wore her C cup bras, she looked sexy and whenever she wore her D cup bras, she looked busty. Harder to find them, she preferred bras that weren't padded. Unpadded bras revealed the impressions of her big nipples through her bra and blouse whenever she was cold or excited. Alas, seemingly no matter what cup size, nearly all bras were padded.
When she wore her C cup bras, as if she was wearing a Wonderbra, her breast overflowed the top of her brassiere as if she was a lady from the 18th century. He loved seeing the tops of his mother's breasts. He loved watching her breasts move, jiggle, and shake as if they were firm gelatin. Whenever she wore her D cup bras, her breasts looked massively bigger. Whether she looked sexy or busty, while imagining her topless, he loved staring at her bra clad breasts in the same way that he loved staring at her panty clad pussy.
Yet, whether she wore her C cup or D cup bras, harder to find unpadded bras, especially in her size, most of her bras were padded. What gay fashion designer decided that women with C cup or D cup breasts needed to wear padded bras? As far as he was concerned the only women who needed to wear padded bras were those women who had an AA or an A cup. As much as he hated pantyhose, he hated padded bras. As far as he was concerned, albeit not very practical, he'd prefer women, especially his MILF of a mother, not to wear a bra.
There was nothing sexy about padded bras. Padded bras don't allow men to see the impressions of nipples that appear in non-padded bras whenever a woman is cold and/or sexually excited. Padded bras are stupid. Padded bras, especially for woman who have big tits, are unnecessary. Just as he'd love to flog and strangle the gay fashion designer who invented pantyhose with a pair of knotted pantyhose, he'd love to flog and strangle the gay fashion designer who invented padded bras with a D cup padded bra.
'Take that and that,' he imagined flogging homosexual, fashion designers with knotted pantyhose and padded bras. 'Stop designing pantyhose. Stop designing padded bras.'
Having masturbated daily over his mother while recalling her up-skirt and down-blouse flashes, even if she wasn't purposely flashing him, he wondered if she knew she was flashing him but didn't care that she was flashing him. He wondered if she knew that he always stared up her short skirts at her white, bikini panties and/or down her low-cut top while enjoying the views of her long, line of cleavage and her sexy, low-cut brassiere. He wondered if she cared that he was seeing bits and pieces of his mother's beautiful body that he shouldn't see. He wondered if seeing whatever he could of his mother sexually excited her in the way that it sexually excited him.
In the way that he enjoyed seeing her panties in up-skirt flashes whenever she was sitting across from him, he enjoyed seeing down-blouse views of her cleavage and bra when she leaned forward when playing Scrabble. With both flashes equally as sexually enticing, he enjoyed seeing her panties in up-skirts peeks as much as he enjoyed seeing her bra and cleavage in down-blouse views. He only wished he could see her without her clothes. He only wished he could see her in her bra and panties. He only wished that he could see her topless and/or naked.
# # #
'For Christ sakes, Susan, go change your top. That's too low-cut. You're exposing yourself to your son,' in the way that he always did before, he imagined his father saying to his mother as if she was his daughter instead of his wife. He imagined his father lambasting his mother as if he was here now and as if he saw her deliberately flashing her cleavage and bra to him. 'And wear pants instead of that short skirt. That skirt is much too short. Every time you move, you flash James your panties,' he imagined his father chastising his mother.
Only, with his father no longer around, his mother was free to dress however she wanted to dress. With his father no longer around, he was free to enjoy whatever his mother was willing to deliberately or unintentionally show him of her sexy body. With his father no longer around, he was free to flash his mother his cock too in the way he flashed her his stiff prick this morning while masturbating and cumming. Only, instead of just flashing her or her flashing him, he wished he could have sex with his mother.
Unable to remove the image from his mind, he thought again about her catching him masturbating. He recalled her staring at his cock and watching him stroke his stiff prick faster and harder just until he ejaculated cum all over himself. If his father still lived here, afraid his father would burst in his room without knocking in the way that his mother had, he never would have masturbated himself while he was home. Now home alone with his mother, he was looking forward to all the naughty, sexual, and incestuous things he hoped they'd do together.
"There's nothing you can do for me that you haven't done for me already James. You're a good son. Thanks for asking," she said interrupting his sexual fantasy while not even trying to hide her sadness.
Wishing she'd change her mind about him drawing her a bubble bath, he was hoping that she'd take him up on his offer. As if she was the naked woman getting in the tub in the first scene of Deadwood, he'd love to see the side of his mother's big, naked breast. As if she was an exotic dancer taking a bubble bath, he'd love to see his mother's naked body surrounded by and covered by soapy, bursting and popping bubbles.
'Rub-a-dub-dub,' he thought. 'How hot would that be to see my nearly naked mother sitting in the bathtub?'
He wished she'd take him up on his offer to give her a massage, a full body, naked massage, one with a happy ending. He'd love his mother to give him a full body, naked massage, one with a happy ending. Just as he'd love to masturbate his mother, he'd love her to masturbate him too. Just as he'd love to see her without her clothes, he'd love his mother to see him without his clothes too.
Whether giving her a bubble bath or a full body, naked massage, he hoped that one thing may lead to another and they'd have sex, incestuous sex. If nothing else, later this evening, he'd be masturbating over the imagined thoughts of giving his mother a bubble bath and a sexy, full body, naked massage while masturbating her. He'd be masturbating himself over the wicked thoughts of his mother giving him a full body, naked massage while she masturbated him.
"Well, being that this is your special holiday, if you think of anything that you'd like me to do for you, just name it," he said while hoping that she'd say that she wanted him to give her sex.
He gave his mother a loving smile before allowing his imagination to fill his incestuous mind with the naked images of his mother.
'Maybe later,' he thought, 'she'd model her new nightgown for him. Maybe later, while cuddling on the couch and watching a movie, she'd allow him to touch and feel more of her nightgown clad body while getting a little tipsy from drinking champagne.'
She returned his loving smile with her loving smile.
"Thank you, James. I'll let you know if I think of anything," she said giving him a sexy smile and a naughty look.
# # #
He wondered what she was thinking behind that sexy smile and naughty look. With his imagination running wild with incestuous thoughts, he imagined his mother was thinking what he was thinking. With his imagination filled with incestuous sex, he imagined his mother wanting to give him sex as much as he wanted to give her sex.
'Now that you mention it, James, I'd love for you to French kiss me while feeling my tits and fingering my nipples through my blouse and bra. If you don't mind, I'd love for you to lick my pussy while fingering my pussy. If it's not too much trouble, I'd love for you to give me multiple orgasms with your fingers, your tongue, and your cock, James,' he imagined his mother saying.
The more he thought about his mother asking him for sex, the more that he hoped she would ask him for sex. He imagined staring at his mother with his mouth gaping open in shock. If only she'd ask him to do those sexy, sexual things, he love to do those sexy, sexual things. He'd love nothing more than to give his MILF of a mother multiple orgasms with his fingers, his tongue, and his cock. He'd love nothing more than for his mother to give him multiple orgasms with her hand, her mouth, and her pussy.
'Then, after you make me cum, may I stroke your cock while sucking your cock? I'd love for you to cum in my mouth and give me a cum bath in the way you ejaculated your cum all over your chest and stomach earlier today,' he imagined his mother saying all that he'd love to hear. 'I'd love for you to make love to me before fucking me,' he imagined her giving him her Christmas special, sexual requests.
He imagined making sweet, slow love to his mother before fucking his mother. He imagined pounding her pussy while bashing the top of her head against her headboard. He imagined his mother's big breasts bouncing up and down and swaying side to side with his hard humps. He imagined his mother screaming his name in sexual passion. He imagined giving her an orgasm with his cock after he gave her an orgasm with his fingers and tongue.
'Fuck me, James. Fuck me. Please fuck me. Fuck me faster and fuck me harder. Fuck your mother. Make me cum,' he imagined his mother begging him for sex. 'Oh, that's it. Right there. Don't stop. I'm going to cum. I'm going cum. You're going to give me an orgasm. You're making your mother cum.'
Only, no such luck. Nothing more than his dirty, incestuous mind working overtime on Christmas Eve, this night of love, romance, and sex, she wasn't like that. She wasn't incestuously perverted in the way that he was incestuously perverted. She'd never request any of those sexual things from him in the way that he'd love to request all those sexual things from her. Instead of naming what she'd like him to do for her, as if she was deep in troubled thought, she remained silent before speaking again.
In the way that he wondered what she was thinking before, he wondered what she was thinking now. Like mother, like son, maybe she was thinking dirty, sexual thoughts about him in the way that he was thinking dirty, sexual thoughts about her. Maybe she was thinking about him fingering her, licking her, and fucking her pussy in the way that he was thinking about her stroking him, sucking him, and fucking his cock. Shaking him awake again and removing his sexual excitement with her sadness, she interrupted his sexual fantasy of having sex with her.
"Not even feeling that this is Christmas, it's just another day to me now. I'm sorry," with sadness. "You've gone through a lot of trouble to make me feel better and to make me feel loved. I'm such a party pooper. I'll feel better in the morning when this holiday is over," she said with a shrug while giving him a look of sad dejection. "It's just that—," she said pausing again.
'It's just that...what?' With her not finishing her thought, he wondered what she was going to say. Instead of pressuring her to speak, he waited for her to continue while imagining all sorts of sexy things that she may say. 'It's just that I'm so sexually attracted to you. It's just that I want to have sex with you,' he imagined her saying. 'It's just that I need you to give me an orgasm with your fingers, your tongue, and your cock,' he thought while wondering what his mother was about to say. 'It's just that I need to stroke you, suck you, and fuck you.'
He watched her relax her knees and lean back in the soft comfort of the sofa to stare in her champagne glass as if she could see her beloved ex-husband there. With the motion of her getting more comfortable on the couch, she mindlessly or deliberately parted her knees enough for him to see what he so wanted to see of her. As if he was her gynecologist seated between her legs, she continually flashed him an in between her legs view of her panties again.
Was she unaware that she was inadvertently flashing him her panties or was she deliberately flashing him her panties again? He didn't know. He had no idea. He couldn't tell. All he knew was that he'd be masturbating later over all that he was seeing of his mother's panty clad pussy now. Wishing he could finger her pussy through her panties while kissing her, he'd love to lick his mother's pussy through her panties.
Whenever she leaned back in the soft couch her knees parted and she flashed him her panties. With her wearing such a short skirt, no matter how she sat, unless she kept her legs crossed, he could see her bright white, sheer, bikini panties. No matter how she sat, he could see her pussy slit, her camel toe, and the shadow of her blonde, trim, pubic hair that teased him through her panties. Such a sexually erotic sight to see, it was even more of a sexually exciting sight to see because she was his mother and not some stranger on a bus or a train.
Oxymoronically, she called him a good son. If only she knew that he was more of a bad son than he was a good son, wouldn't she be surprised? With him ogling his mother panties whenever she sat back or ogled her cleavage and bra whenever she leaned forward, he was anything but a good son. If he was anything, he was an incestuously, perverted son. He was a son who always stared at, leered at, and ogled his mother to see whatever he could see of her. Continuously lusting over her sexually, he was a son who wanted to see his mother naked while having sex with her.
'Shame on me,' he thought. 'What's wrong with me to want to have incestuous sex with my mother? I need a girlfriend. I need to get laid. Only, I don't want any other woman than my mother.'
If only she knew what a good son he wasn't while he hoped to have an incestuous, sexual relationship with his mother, he wondered what she'd say. If only she knew the sexual thoughts he always had of her naked while sucking and fucking him, he wondered what she'd think of him then. What kind of son would she call him then if she knew that he wanted to have incestuous sex with her? Yet, now that she knows he lusts and masturbates over her while fantasizing having sex with her naked body, unless she wanted to have sex with him too, he didn't understand why she still thought of him as a good son.
'James, I keep thinking of all those sexual things you said about me while masturbating yourself,' he imagined his mother saying while looking at him with shock. 'I'm sorry but do you really want to do all of those sexually things with me?'
In the way that she looked at him with questioning eyes, he looked at her with a confident stare.
'Yes,' he imagined saying while imagining doing all of those sexual things with his mother.
Giving her a chance to speak, he waited for her to continue.
'Do you really want to kiss me, French kiss me, while stripping me naked? Do you really want to touch and feel my naked body everywhere that a son should never touch and feel his mother? Do you really want to finger and lick my pussy before I stroke and suck your cock? Do you really want to have incestuous sex with me, your own mother?'
As if she had really said those things that he was thinking, he looked at his mother shocked.
'Yes,' he said while imagining answering her. 'I really want to do all of those sexual things with you. I really want to have incestuous sex with you, Mother.'
He imagined his mother looking at him with disappointment in the way that he looked at her with sexual excitement.
'We can't have sex, James,' he imagined his mother saying while shaking her head as if she needed that extra bit of head movement to believe that they couldn't have sex. 'That's incest. That's wrong. That's nasty. That's illegal,' he imagined her scolding him while looking at him as if he was insane. And she'd be right. He was crazy for her and madly in love with her. 'I'm sorry James but we can't have sex.'
# # #
Unable to remove image from his mind, recalling it yet again while getting horny all over again, he thought about her barging in his room while he was masturbating. She saw his naked cock. His mother stared his erect prick while watching him stroking himself. She heard him call her name while cumming. He couldn't believe his mother stayed to watch his masturbation show with her as his incestuous star. Why didn't she leave?
He wished he had the nerve to barge in his mother's bedroom when she was dressing, undressing, or hopefully masturbating but he couldn't. He'd love nothing more than to see his mother undressing, watch her dress, or catch her masturbating. Yet, he didn't dare barge in her bedroom without knocking in the way that she barged in his bedroom without knocking. His best way to catch his mother naked, he wished he had the nerve to walk in her bathroom while she was taking a shower, but he couldn't. Again, afraid of the repercussions of his perversely sexual actions, he didn't dare.
