tagIncest/TabooMom Likes It Rough

Mom Likes It Rough

byBuckyDuckman©

Sitting in my room, I waited until I smelled the aroma of freshly made coffee. Taking a couple deep breaths, I swung open the door to my room and paraded as casually as possible to the kitchen for a steaming cup of joe. "Morning," I told Mom as I walked past her, managing to hold back my laughter as her eyes went wide, but as soon as she spat a mouthful of coffee across the table, I couldn't maintain a straight face.

"Lee Albert Miller! What is wrong with you?!"

"Nothing," I said as soon as I could catch my breath after laughing so hard.

"I didn't ask what you were wearing," she said, glaring at me as she used napkins to wipe up the coffee. "I asked what the hell is wrong with you!"

Still grinning, I shrugged again. "I'm naked, is that really a big deal?"

Quick to regain her composure, Mom crossed her arms just beneath her breasts, tilted her head to the right and considered me for a moment. "Can I ask why you're naked?"

"Just because," I said. "I like being naked. It feels good."

"Uh-huh," Mom said, not buying a word of it but nodding as if she completely understood my excuse for being naked. "Is this a sex thing or something else?"

"Mom!"

"I'm just asking," she said, smirking for the first time.

Trying to read her expression, I stared for a short moment, determined to call her bluff, even if she was bluffing. I couldn't tell. Her smirk said she was playing me but her body language made that unclear. "What if I say it is?"

"Yeah, what if?"

"Dammit Mom," I groaned, unwilling to let her flip the script on me. I loved her initial reaction. Seeing her spraying coffee halfway across the table had to be one of the funniest things I had ever seen. It wasn't easy getting the better of Mom.

"So, it's just a prank. Good one." She flashed a smile and looked back at her phone.

"Would you like me to warm up your coffee?" I asked, stepping around the counter, hoping to shock her again with my nakedness.

"That would be lovely, dear," she said, pushing her cup in my general direction. Her eyes wandered from my face to that place just below my navel that she hadn't seen in years. She stared directly at my manhood.

"Seriously?"

"If you're showing it off, I'm allowed to look."

I wasn't about to let her get the best of me. Laughing, I wiggled my hips and swung my dangling cock and balls from side-to-side. "See anything you like?

"It's very pretty," she said, still wearing that infernal, amused smirk. "I'm sure Sophie enjoys it very much."

I couldn't believe her. Pretty? Who calls man-parts pretty? "Maybe I should stay this way if you like seeing it so much."

"Maybe you should," she said, still smiling patiently as if I was showing off a new drawing I had made with my Crayola crayons instead of standing naked in front of her. Slowly, her gaze moved back to my face as she masterfully made my prank feel incredibly awkward. "Do you like being naked in front of your Mommy?"

What had started as a funny prank on her was turning into a prank on me. Sure, I had gotten a great initial reaction, but that was it. No way could she really be comfortable seeing me naked. "I don't know, do I?" I asked, grabbing at my cock, tugging on it, and threatening to get myself hard. "Maybe you'd like to really see it?"

"Oh baby," she purred in a sexy voice that sounded so foreign coming out of her mouth. She propped her chin on her hand and stared directly at my cock again. "Does it get really big?"

"Yeah, it does," I said, still pulling on my cock for a moment before realizing what I was doing. Was I really going to make myself hard in front of my Mom? I stopped. She was playing me. I could see it in her eyes. She didn't really want to see me hard, she only wanted to see how far I would go. I carried the coffee pot back into the kitchen.

"Aw, I thought I was going to get a show."

"You almost did," I admitted, pouring a cup of joe for myself. "You're impossible, you know that?"

"Me?" she asked, laughing. "You made coffee shoot out my nose and I'm the impossible one?"

"I got you good, didn't I?" I asked, laughing with her.

"Here's the funniest part," she said, leaning over so she could slide her phone across the counter in my direction. "That was the article I was reading when you walked out like that." The headline read Ten Ways to Celebrate National Nude Day Without Getting Arrested.

"No way!" I laughed. Who knew such a day even existed? "Does this mean you're going to spend the day naked with me?"

"You're a day early. It's not until tomorrow," she pointed out, taking back her phone. "But I'll tell you what, if you stay naked all day today, I'll get naked with you tomorrow."

I blinked hard, she was kidding, right? "Seriously?"

"Why not?" she asked, grinning from ear-to-ear. "It might be fun." She lost her smile for the next part, "But you have to stay naked all day today, no matter what, and you can't spend the day hiding in your bedroom, either."

I could tell she was setting me up, trying to prank the prankster. "You're just hoping to see me hard, aren't you?"

She replied with a renewed smile and a twinkle in her eye. "I almost did."

"You don't think it's a little perverted wanting to see your son naked all day?"

"No more perverted than him prancing around naked in front of his mom in the first place."

She had me there. "And what if I do, you know, get excited?"

"Then I guess I'll get my show after all," she snickered. "You don't think you can keep yourself in control around your Mom?"

"Yes," I groaned. Although I could see why my friends thought she was hot, she was still my Mom. Mom had kept herself in shape and she wasn't afraid of showing off her effort by wearing painted on yoga pants that accentuated her tight, bubble butt and midriff-baring sport tops that showed off her flat stomach. Compared to most other Moms, my Mom truly was a MILF.

"Do we have a deal?"

What difference did it make? She had already seen me naked. Besides, if things got awkward, I could always change my mind. "Why not?"

"Good, now step around that counter and let me see you."

I groaned. "Seriously?" She nodded. Picking up my coffee cup, I stepped around the counter and leaned against it, crossing my legs at the ankles and trying to pretend that I wasn't naked despite her staring directly at my manhood. Her gaze felt like a visual caress and I began to worry about my ability to keep myself in control. "Enjoying yourself?"

"I am," she said, sipping at her coffee without moving her gaze. "When did you start shaving your balls?"

"Mom!" I complained, shocked that she would ask such an intimate question.

"I'm just asking. I like it. I've always thought guys should do as much grooming as girls."

"Are you shaved?"

"Guess you'll find out tomorrow." She took another sip of her coffee. "Is that what you prefer? Do you like it better when a girl shaves all the way?"

"You're trying to get me excited, aren't you?"

"I'm just asking," she insisted although the twinkle in her eyes told a different story. "Am I making you uncomfortable?"

"A little," I admitted, pulling out a chair and sitting down. At least she wouldn't see it if I got a little hard. Being slightly hidden felt better, it felt safer. "I like when they shave all the way."

"Mm, me too," she purred.

"Girls or guys?"

"Body hair is gross. I once dated a guy who was as furry as Bigfoot and I made him shave everywhere. His back. His chest. Everywhere."

She had danced around my question, avoiding it. Through the years, I had had reasons to wonder if Mom went both ways, but I had never asked her. Mom seldom admitted to dating. She would go out with a generic friend and sometimes spend the night. Sometimes, her generic friend had been a girl.

"Sophie did that to me once." That wasn't the complete truth, but close enough. The complete truth got complicated very fast.

"Do lots of guys do that?"

"Some do, I guess," I shrugged, knowing at least two other guys who had shaved their private parts. Ashton and Jared were the reason I had gotten shaved, too. "I don't think it's common, though."

"I've heard swimmers do it."

"Swimmers are gay," I pointed out, repeating a widely held rumor from my college. I wasn't sure how many where. I knew a couple of the guys on the dive team were gay, but that was it. Mostly, I meant that swimming wasn't a real sport like football.

"There's nothing wrong with being gay," she chided. I had triggered that automatic response. She hated whenever someone used "gay" as a slur. "And your Aunt Margo was a swimmer," she reminded me, referring to her younger sister.

"Does she shave everywhere?"

"As a matter of fact, she does," she said. "Spoiler alert, we both do. We always have."

I squirmed, frustrated because of the growth happening between my legs. While I thought I could keep myself in control around Mom, thinking about my Aunt Margo could change that. Aunt Margo's lean, swimmer body had inspired more fantasies than I would admit. Once removed from my Mom, Aunt Margo had felt like a safer fantasy. "She hit on me at graduation."

"She always had a thing for big guys," Mom said, back to looking more at her phone than me. At six feet, five inches, I definitely qualified as a big guy. Without bragging, I'll admit that I count as big in other ways, too. At my high school graduation party, a very drunk Aunt Margo had thrown herself hard at the eighteen-year-old version of me. I wished she would do it again. While I was only a year older, I felt much better equipped to accept her advances.

"If she's a swimmer, does that mean Aunt Margo gay?" I asked.

"Maybe."

"What about you?"

Mom considered me for a long moment before a sly smile appeared on her face. "Do you really want your Mom to answer that question?"

"I guess not," I said, feeling embarrassed for asking something so private. Getting up for a refill, I made it a point to turn my back on Mom as I stood so she wouldn't see the growth that had happened during our little talk. As I moved towards the kitchen, I caught her reflection in the glass of a picture hanging on the wall and caught her checking out my ass. Once I stepped around the counter, she had returned her gaze to her phone. I thought about something Sophie had once told me, "Girls check out guys all the time, we're just better at not getting caught doing it." That also explained how and why Aunt Margo would know I was gifted in the manhood department. She must have noticed an inadvertent hard-on.

"You really want me to stay naked all day?"

"You said it wasn't a sex thing."

"True," I admitted, pouring a second cup of coffee. When I had come up with the idea of shocking her with a bit of casual nudity, I didn't have sex on my mind, just surprising her in a funny way. Originally, I had planned on walking past her, getting coffee, and walking back to my room. End of joke. A little flash and nothing more. As much fun as it had been seeing her spray a mouthful of coffee across the table, staying naked felt very different than flashing her. "What about tomorrow?"

"What about it?" she asked, swiping rhythmically at her phone screen as she played one game or another.

"You said that if I stay naked all day today, you'll get naked with me tomorrow. Is that a sex thing?"

Setting down her phone, she looked directly at me. "Is that what you want it to be?"

"No!" I quickly answered, blushing and feeling very self-conscious.

A whimsical little smile tugged at the left corner of her mouth. "Are you sure?" I recognized that tiny smile, I had seen it all my life, especially when I was being a smartass to her. Mom was playing with me.

My friends never understood the special relationship we had. What Mom lacked in height, she made up for by being feisty. She was tiny and petite and I grew to be eye-to-eye with her by age ten. By the next year, I stood two inches taller than her five foot, two-inch frame. Looking up at me, she made it very clear how things would go for the rest of my life, "Just because you're bigger than me doesn't make you smarter."

Dad had bailed on us before my first birthday. I barely knew the man. My father figures were coaches and a mom who made sure her sports addicted son never missed a practice or a try-out. Mom was always there for me. When I was fifteen and my first crush broke my little heart, Mom had consoled me by pointing out, "She's a skank who will be pregnant by graduation." She was right, too.

As I neared graduation, I was a football star with a scholarship. Girls naturally liked me and I took advantage of their affectionate fawning. Mom never judged me for it. Instead, she would tease me about which girls were a prick tease and which girls would go all the way. Her ability to guess was remarkable. We were shopping at Walmart one afternoon after I had started to date one of the cheerleaders. Mom led me down the lotion aisle, picking out an extra large bottle of unscented lotion. Before putting it in the shopping cart, she held up to me and asked, "This is the one you use, right?"

Fighting against blushing that she knew which kind of hand lotion I preferred when I was jerking off, I tried to play it off with a noncommittal shrug.

"I'm just saying, if you keep dating that prick tease, you'll need a lot more of this. Trust me, she's never going to give it to you." She tossed it into the cart. Three weeks later, I gave her back that big bottle of lotion with a smirk. "No way," she grinned. "You're tapping that?"

Shaking my head, I confessed that she had been right. "Not her but her best friend."

Mom was never wrong. Maybe it's weird for your Mom to know your sex life, but I had gotten used to it. She could see right through me, including returning that big bottle of lotion to my bedroom. Mom correctly knew that even though I had a girlfriend, I would still want to jerk-off.

Remaining behind the cover of the counter for a moment longer, I struggled to hide the shocked look on my face. I could tell she was messing with me, so I decided to mess back with her. "Is seeing me naked a sex thing for you?" I wasn't expecting her answer.

"There would be something wrong with me if seeing a well-built, well-hung man naked didn't do something for me."

"Even if that person is your son?"

"Dick is dick, isn't it?" she asked with a playful twinkle in her eyes before she made it even worse. "And you've got a nice one."

"Mom!" I protested, pretending to be more shocked than I felt. In truth, her words felt like a compliment. Growing up, I had never met one of her boyfriends. If she had a date, she would hire a sitter or park me overnight at Aunt Margo's house. I once asked her why she didn't have a boyfriend. She just hugged me and said I was her boyfriend. When I turned eighteen, I became exactly half her age. When I turned nineteen, I had joked that I was catching up to her. I didn't need my perverted friends to tell me how good my Mom looked. Her full-sized breasts rode proudly on her small frame, attracting as much attention as her shapely, bubble butt.

"I'm just sayin'," she shrugged, picking up her phone again.

"You're just sayin' you like seeing your son naked."

"Come over here," she said, waving me to step back around the counter. "Let me see you again."

"Pervert," I teased, doing it just the same. Then I heard the shutter sound of the camera on her phone. "Did you just take my picture?"

"No," she lied, taking another one before touching her screen and snapping off two more.

"Cut it out," I laughed, covering my hanging nudity.

"Maybe I should send these to your Aunt Margo. I bet she'd love to see them."

"And how would you explain to your sister having a naked picture of me?"

"From what you just said about your graduation party, she would probably like it."

"I thought you said she was gay." I sat back down again.

"I said she was a size queen." As she examined the pictures she had taken I noticed the twin points pressing against the sports top she wore.

"Are you getting excited?"

"Are you?" she asked, holding her phone beneath the table and snapping off another picture of my nakedness.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" I laughed, shocked and unable to believe how silly she was being.

"Hey, you're the one who wanted to go naked."

"You better delete those pictures."

"No way," she laughed. "I'm going to send them to Sophie."

"If you do, tomorrow I'll send her pics of you."

"Mm, I've never been with a black chick."

Stunned, I stared at my mom. "Does that mean you've been with a white girl?"

"It was called college," she said, swiping and tapping at her phone as she went back to playing one of her little games. She loved all those damn cell phone games.

"No way," I gasped, still shocked by the revelation that my mom went both ways. That made me wonder something else. "Have you ever been with a black man?"

"Shit," she cussed at her phone before answering the question. "Yes, but it took three of them before I found one that really had a big black cock."

"I can't believe you," I said, shaking my head while wondering what had gotten into her. We had never talked this openly about her sexuality. "Did you do them all in one night?"

"No," she objected. "But it was all in the same week." Still poking and swiping at her phone, she recapped a crazy spring break trip made two years after I had been born and one year after Dad has bailed on us. Giving up on her game, she looked up at me. "Grandpa would shit if he knew I spent that spring break sucking black cock."

"Mom!" I cried out, shocked by her language as much as her honesty.

"Come on, you know he's racist as hell."

"Not why I'm laughing," I pointed out.

Giggling, she figured it out. "Oh, the big black cock part? I'm not really a size queen, but again, it was college, I was curious, and it was fun."

"But what about tomorrow?" Mom asked, looking disappointed as she brought her hidden hand back above the tabletop.

"What about today," I groaned, offering her a frustrating smile. "I think you were right about what you said earlier."

It took her a moment to catch my reference. The moment she did, her eyes went as wide as when I had first walked past her this morning. "Are you hard?" she asked, ducking beneath the table for a peek. Anticipating her reaction, I kept both hands clamped over my hard-on. "Aw, come on! Unfair! Move your hands!"

"No way," I laughed for no reason except it felt funny being hard with Mom trying to see. I stood with my back to her and ran to my room.

"Lee Albert Miller! What is wrong with you?!" she cried out for the second time that morning, except this time, she was clearly laughing. "Are you afraid of letting your Mommy see you hard?"

I sat in my room, turned away from the open door, and cradling my excited prick while laughing about my predicament. How could a simple prank go so damn wrong? I'm not sure why I did it, but I tugged on my hard-on a few times. I wasn't trying to make it harder, at least not consciously. I guess I pulled on it because it was there, in my hands, and it felt good to do it. I nearly jumped out of my skin when I heard Mom's voice from my doorway!

"Hey sugar, you know I'm not laughing at your manhood, right?"

I nodded my head. That thought had never occurred to me. "I can't believe I got hard in front of you."

"Not all the way hard," she corrected.

"Not that you saw," I said, glancing over my shoulder to make sure she couldn't see what I held in my hands.

"Well, you let me know if you need any help with it," she snickered.

"Mom!" I couldn't believe she would even joke about something like that! Then it occurred to me, she had masterfully turned the tables on me. She had turned my little prank on its head. The joke wasn't on her, it was on me.

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