Mom & Son's Valentine's Day Sex Ch. 04

A tempting offer, he'd love nothing more than to pose for his mother in his underwear. Only, he'd be posing with a huge erection tenting his briefs. Who knows? Perhaps if he posed for his mother in his underwear, with her having already seen his cock, she'd ask him to pose naked.

Perhaps, if he posed for his mother, she'd pose for him too. Who knows? Perhaps, if he posed for his mother in his underwear, she'd posed for him in her underwear too. Perhaps, if he posed naked for his mother, she'd post topless or naked for him too. Just as he'd love to pose naked for his mother, he'd love nothing more than to take some sexy photos of his mother in her underwear, topless, and/or naked.

With one thing leading to another, perhaps from taking photos of one another, they'd have sex with one another. Lots of models have had sex with their photographers during a photo shoot. How hot would that be for the camera to snap some timed snapshots of them having sex? Only nothing more than his imagination running wild, just as she'd never sexually pose for him, she'd never have sex with him.

"Eww, Mom? Eww! Gross, that's so gross," he said feigning his disgust while trying to hide his sexual excitement by the thought of posing naked for his mother.

He thought more about posing for his mother. He'd love to pose for his mother in his underwear. He'd even be willing to pose for his mother naked. He'd love to show her his erect prick again. No doubt, as soon as he removed his pants, he'd have an erection. Maybe she'd ask him to masturbate and cum for her, too. Maybe if he masturbated for her, she'd masturbate for him.

Yet, something he'd love to do, he wondered if she'd seriously ask him to pose naked. Just as he'd love for his mother to pose naked for him, he'd love to pose naked for his mother. No doubt, as soon as he posed naked in front of his mother, he'd want to masturbate for her too. He'd love for his mother to photograph him masturbating and cumming. Yet, as soon as he posed naked for his mother, he'd want to have sex with her. Only, just as she'd never ask him to masturbate and cum for her, she'd never have sex with him.

Stuck on the thought of photographing his mother in all manner of undress, cock and balls for tits and pussy, maybe if he posed naked for her, she'd pose topless and/or naked for him too. Stuck on the thought of masturbating for his mother, maybe if he masturbated for his mother, she'd masturbate for him too. Whether she masturbated for him or not, he'd love to see more of his mother's hot body. He'd love to have sex with her MILF of a body.

At the very least, he'd love to have sexy photographs of his mother. Adding to his sudden horniness, he imagined his mother in her sexy nightgown. He imagined his mother topless and/or naked and posing while he snapped dozens of photos of her beautiful body. Only, nothing more than another one of his sexual fantasies, just as she'd never masturbate for him, she'd never pose for him without her clothes.

"Oh, don't be so shy," she said waving a hand of disinterest. "You don't have anything that I haven't seen before," she said with a laugh. "Besides, I'm not about to ogle my own son."

Unfortunately, he couldn't say the same for himself. If given the chance, he'd leer and stare at whatever his mother was showing him. She had everything he hadn't seen before and couldn't wait to see now. In the way that she supposedly wouldn't ogle him, he'd ogle her. In the way that she was sexually turned off because he was her son, he was sexually turned on because she was his mother.

* * * * *

Not believing that their dialogue was going anywhere but to sexually frustrate him, he changed the subject. Nonetheless, with the thoughts of his mother posing for him in her bra and panties, topless, and/or naked, he'd be masturbating over this conversation later. With the thoughts of him posing for his mother in his briefs and/or naked with his protruding erection showing his incestuous, sexual lust for her, he'd be masturbating over that later too.

"You can't be alone the rest of your life. What happens when I meet someone, marry, and maybe even move out of state? We all need someone to love. We all need someone in our lives. You're still young and such a beautiful and sexy woman. You still have lots of life to live," he said. "You need to live your life, Mom, with a special man, someone who will be kind, caring, and who will love and support you."

A ridiculous thought fueled by his incestuous horniness, he suddenly wished he could live with his mother forever as man and woman instead of as mother and son. He didn't need another woman to sexually satisfy him when he had his mother. Yet, he seriously doubted that she felt the same way. If he was to suggest that living arrangement to her, she'd think there was something wrong with him. She'd think that he was nuts. She'd think that it was something she did wrong when raising him. She'd want him to have his head examined by a psychiatrist.

"When your father left me and rejected me for someone much younger, he opened my eyes. With my life all about him, he never took the time to consider my wants, needs, and feelings. If all men are like that, then I'm not eager to live my life with another man. I'd rather be alone, than to have another man break my heart by cheating on me," she said. "Living here alone isn't so bad. As long as I still have you in my life, I'm happy being alone and not having to cook, clean, and cater to another man's whims and needs while feeling compelled to give him sex."

Obviously, he was his mother's only link to the outside world and for her to socialize with someone. With her going everywhere with him, food shopping, to the mall, and even to the movies, it was as if they were already boyfriend and girlfriend or husband and wife instead of mother and son. With him her only child and with them not having much family, at the very least, she needed friends.

"What about friends, Mom? Do you have any?"

A flash of anger crossed her face before it dissipated in calm resignation.

"Friends?" She laughed a demonic laugh. "As soon as I divorced your father, my so-called friends wanted nothing more to do with me. They feared that I'd steal their husbands," she said with a laugh. "Trust me, I didn't want any of their fat, lazy, drunken husbands. Their husbands were no better than my ex-husband."

He remembered all the friends they had when his father was still with her. Obviously, nothing more than drinking buddies, and with the men all after her and cornering her for a cheap feel and a kiss, he couldn't believe that they were all gone. Divorce has a way of severing all ties. Sadly, just as divorce has a way of closing one chapter in life by opening a new chapter, instead of starting her life anew, his mother not only closed the whole, damn book but also burned the book.

"You could make new friends," he said.

She shrugged him a look.

"Now that I know how fickle people are, I'd rather be alone than to go through all the bullshit of pretending to care about someone who really doesn't care about me," she said.

With him thinking the same thing about people being fickle, playing right into his thoughts, he wondered if she'd live forever with him in the way that he wished he could live forever with her. There was something that sexually excited him about having an older woman as a lover, especially when that older woman was his mother. In the way that he could offer her a hard cock and plenty of stamina, she could offer him her motherly love and sexual experience. With there no other woman better than his mother, he imagined that there'd be no better woman to have sex with than with his mother.

"There's always the chance that your father will dump his whore and come crawling back to me," she said with sad disillusionment.

He couldn't believe she thought so little of herself to even think that.

"He's gone Mom," said Michael with anger. "He's not returning. He's never coming back," he said obviously happy by that thought. "Not all men are insensitive, selfish pigs. There are a lot of good men out there who aren't married, lying, cheating bastards and who only think about sex," he said. "Some men actually put women first before their wants, needs, and desires. Some men are kind, caring, and thoughtful with their women," he said while thinking of himself.

Only, in the way that he was sexually thinking about his mother, he was as much of a pig as was his father. Yet, different from his father, he was an incestuous pig. Different from his father, instead of wanting to have sex with a younger woman or even a woman his age, he wanted to have sex with an older woman. Where his father no longer wanted to have sex with his mother, he wanted to have sex with his mother. Instead of rejecting his mother in the way that his father had, he was hoping to embrace his mother, especially when she was without her clothes.

"I know you're right," she said with sadness while staring in her wineglass as if reading her fortune in a cup of tea leaves. "Yet, now that I'm older, I'm grateful for the small things in my life. I don't need anyone, especially a man to make me happy. Never having much family and always being alone, I don't need a lot of friends. Been there and done that," she said.

Suddenly, as much as he felt sorry for himself by the fact that he'd never bed his mother, he felt sorry for her that she was still carrying a torch for his father and was willing to live alone. Based on this conversation, he'd never have sex with his mother. In the way she now felt about sex, she'd never invite him to sleep with her in the way that Susan invited her son, Charlie to sleep with his mother, in the story, Mom Sleep with Son on Christmas.

"You need someone, Mom, if only a companion and not a lover," he said.

She gave him a warm smile.

"As long as I still have you in my life, even for just short visits, I'm happy living alone. The fact that we're living together now, until you get a good job to support yourself is a bonus and my blessing. I just wish you hadn't spent all that money on Valentine's gifts for me," she said fingering the nightgown he bought her. "The nightgown is beautiful. I can't wait to try it on," she said.

* * * * *

He didn't understand her not having any friends. Yet, like mother like son, he didn't have many friends either. Reminding him of Norman Bates and his mother, Norma, they were different from other mothers and sons. Now that he was back home and living with his mother, content on being alone as long as they were together, they mostly kept to themselves. With him looking older and her looking younger and with everyone, no doubt, suspecting that they were husband and wife or boyfriend and girlfriend, no one knew that they were mother and son.

All his friends had short, fat, ugly, and older mothers. He was the only one with a tall, sexy, beautiful, and younger mother, a mother who looked younger than her age instead of looking older. If the shoe was on the other foot and she was their mother, they'd be as sexually attracted to his mother in the way that he was. Not feeling guilty for his sexual attraction to his Mom, he only wished his incestuous, sexual feelings were reciprocated. He couldn't image how much better life his life would be if she was sexually intimate with him.

Such a waste of a good woman, he couldn't imagine his mother without a man in her life. He couldn't imagine his mother living alone and living without romance, intimacy, and sex. He couldn't imagine him without his mother in his life. Only, if she found someone else, no doubt always wishing it was him being sexually intimate with her, he'd be jealous of her lover. Just as she needed to get a life, he needed to get a life too.

"Everyone should have someone in their life, Mom. Everyone should be appreciated and happy in their life instead of being unappreciative and sad," he said. "You deserve to be happy."

As soon as he said that, it pained him to imagine his mother being appreciated by another man. As soon as he said that, it pained him to imagine her having sex with another man. It made him jealous just to imagine another man seeing her in the way that he'd love to see her in her bra and panties, topless, and/or naked. It angered him to imagine another man touching her, feeling her, and fondling her in all the places that he'd love to touch, feel, and fondle her. When he thought about some man sticking his cock in his mother's hand, in her mouth, or in her pussy, he wished he was her lover.

"I'm grateful for lots of things. I am. I truly am. I'm grateful for the warm fire," she said looking at the fireplace. "I'm grateful for my house," she said looking around the living room. "I'm grateful for you returning home after graduating college to live with me albeit temporarily until you find a good job and your own place," she said giving him a little laugh and a warm smile.

With her only leaving the house to go shopping, sometimes he wondered if a nun living in a convent had a fuller life than his mother.

"Maybe you should get a dog or a cat, Mother," he said with a laugh.

She nodded her head.

"Your father took the dog and I'm allergic to cats," she said with a laugh. "I'd like to get another dog but pets are a lot of trouble. I can't imagine having to walk a dog in this snowy cold. Yet, I got everything I wanted in the divorce, the house, the furniture, the car, and the savings. With him not wanting any of it, all he got was his freedom to be with that whore. Yet, admittedly, now that you mention it, I'm still sad and I don't know why, other than I'm lonely."

Lost in the translation, he figured that she felt uncomfortably awkward saying how she really felt. Being that was his definition, he imagined her definition of loneliness was horniness. Only, no doubt, her definition of loneliness was friendship and companionship. Obviously, in the way that he never could do without sex, his mother could do without sex.

If he was reading her correctly, especially after she stayed to watch him masturbating and cumming while she fingered her nipple and pussy, he sensed that she was as horny and as sexually frustrated as he was. If he was reading her correctly, especially after she suggested that he pose in his underwear while she photographed him for his online dating profile, what she said about being lonely wasn't lost in his translation of horniness and sexual frustration.

A mother with her son and a son with his mother, it wasn't lost on him that they were both together without someone on Valentine's Day. Now that he was older, he thought more of his mother as a sexual woman and as a sexual partner than he did as his mother. A man and a woman instead of a mother with her son alone on such a romantic evening, he thought more of his mother as his girlfriend or as his potential lover than he did as his mother.

If only she felt the same sexual way about him in the way that he felt about her, he'd be so happy. If only she felt the same sexual way about him in the way that he felt about her, he'd make her so happy. Just once, he'd love to kiss her, French kiss her. Just once he'd love to feel her through her clothes while kissing her. Just once, he'd love to undress her, strip her naked. Just once, he'd love to make love to her before fucking her.

He'd love to give her multiple sexual orgasms with his fingers, his tongue, and his cock. He'd love her to give him multiple orgasms with her hand, her mouth, and her pussy. Just once, if only to hold her, cuddle her, and spoon her, he'd love to sleep with his mother. Only, who was he kidding, he could never sleep in the same bed without trying to have sex with her.

With him always having the need to masturbate himself over the topless and naked thoughts of her, he wondered if his mother was horny in the way that he was always horny. He wondered if she sexually fantasized over having sex with him in the way that he sexually fantasied over having sex with her. Never imagining she did, he wondered if his mother even masturbated. He wondered if his mother masturbated over the thoughts of having sex with him in the way that he continually and constantly masturbated over the thoughts of having sex with her.

To be continued...

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