Mommy I Need, Want & Love You Ch. 01

Mommy I Need, Want & Love You, #1

Trying to continually see her without her clothes, Jimmy continually spied on his mother, Elizabeth.

Making it appear unintentional, but definitely deliberate, sometimes, when I readied myself for bed at night and undressed or dressed to go out in the morning, Jimmy opened my bedroom door without knocking. He used the pretense of having something important to tell me. Embarrassed at first, I covered my nakedness with my hand and my forearms. Then, realizing that he was trying to intentionally see me without my clothes, his juvenile antics amused me as much as it sexually aroused me.

'My son is horny for his mother,' I thought with a laugh. 'How about that? I still have my sexual appeal even at 41-years-old.'

I listened to his excuse while continuing undressing or dressing.

"Mom, I forgot to tell you something. Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't know you were changing," he said, covering his eyes with his flayed fingers while staring at all that he could see of me.

Embarrassed that he was seeing me in my bra and panties, topless, and even naked, surprisingly, an unexpected pleasure, his voyeurism made me horny. Then, later that evening when alone and lonely with my bad self, I thought of all that my son saw of my semi-naked and naked body. I masturbated to him having seen all that he shouldn't have seen of me. I wondered if he was masturbating over me in the way that I masturbated over him.

F F F

Like a deer caught in headlights, as if he was hypnotized by seeing something of me that he shouldn't have seen, he'd stand in my bedroom doorway mesmerized while staring at my nakedness. Surprised by his sudden appearance, never hearing him coming and always catching me off guard, too slow to cover up, he barged into my bedroom. Yet, not wanting to scold him, I tried to be the patient, perfect parent, and the understanding mother.

As young men typically do, especially with their mothers and especially with him not having a father, not wanting him to clam up and not talk to me, I didn't want to discourage his enthusiasm for sharing his thoughts with me. Nor did I want to make him feel that sex was dirty or forbidden by showing the embarrassing shame that I suddenly felt when he saw me in my underwear, topless, or naked. Matter of fact, I encouraged him to talk to me any time, only, for his benefit, he used that a bit too literally.

Rushing into my bedroom, he opened my door in a hurry without warning and without the courtesy of a knock. Even though I always reinforced how important it was for him to knock first before opening my bedroom door, he seldom did. Combined with his horniness and overwhelming sexual drive, it was as if he had hoped to see something of me that he shouldn't see.

"You need to knock first, Jimmy, before entering a room that has a closed door. Give me a minute to finish dressing. I'll be right out to listen to whatever you have to say," I said while covering my naked breasts with my forearm and my naked pussy with my hand.

Probably hoping to see more than he did, taking my time dressing and undressing, brushing my hair, walking around my room to gather my clothes, he usually caught me in my bra and panty. Yet, there were a few times he caught me with my nightgown over my head either taking it off in the morning or putting it on at night. Those were the times, too many times to count that he saw me topless or saw me naked as if saw me naked this morning.

I remember thinking that he was excited to talk to me and that it was an accident that he forgot to knock. I fooled myself into thinking that he didn't see much. I kidded myself into thinking that he wasn't sexually attracted to me. Only, he saw everything that he shouldn't have seen of my naked body. Judging him by his looks and his stares, he was, indeed, sexually attracted to me.

Jimmy saw my naked ass. My son saw my naked breasts. He saw my naked pussy. He saw me naked. No doubt, I'll be masturbating myself again tonight over him seeing me again without my clothes.

Yet, thinking about it now, he must have seen me naked more than a few times. Then, there were all those times that he barged in the bathroom and flung open the bathroom door on the pretense that he had to pee really badly. Since we only had the one bathroom, I didn't think anything of it.

If you have to go, you have to go. Yet, and again, even though I asked him to knock first before opening the bathroom door, he said that he had. He said that I didn't hear him knock with the overhead, bathroom exhaust fan, the shower water, and my radio.

"You probably didn't hear me knock over the shower, the exhaust fan, and the radio, Mom. Sorry," he said.

I naively accepted that as a viable and innocent explanation.

F F F

With my radio playing in the background, the exhaust fan adding static noise, and my head under the water while washing my hair, indeed, I never heard him knock. For all that I know, with my eyes closed while shampooing my hair, he could have been standing in the bathroom peeping at me through the shower curtain that never closed all the way for all that I knew. He may have been watching me wash my naked breasts, my naked ass, and my naked pussy. I was as angered that Jimmy invaded my privacy as I was sexually aroused that he saw me without my clothes again.

Yet, he was my son and I loved him. I trusted him not to purposely violate my privacy by spying on me, even though that was exactly what he had done and had been doing by trying to catch me without my clothes. As if he was on an incestuous mission, he seemed intent on seeing me in my sexy lingerie, topless, and naked.

Our bathroom door didn't have a lock and did not make a sound when opening it, he was so quick to open the bathroom door while I showered. I could have installed a lock, but with it just the two of us living together, I didn't want to make him feel uncomfortable. I was naïve. I didn't realize how horny a testosterone filled; young man could be when living with his mother.

As if he was in tuned or psychic in seeing me without my clothes, he had a knack of catching me just as I climbed out of the shower, and before I had a chance to grab a towel. Taken by surprise, showering before I even had my morning cup of coffee, I was slow to react covering my nakedness with a towel. Now that I recall, he must have seen plenty. I may as well walk around my son without my clothes because I can't even count how many times that he had seen my naked tits, my naked ass, and my naked pussy.

Questioning my sanity by blaming myself for his perverted voyeurism of his mother, I wondered if I had deliberately exposed myself to my son. I wondered if I had wanted him to see me without my clothes and had deliberately showed him more than I should have. Now that I think about it, with me not attuned to such things, he must have listened to the water being turned off and the shower curtain sliding open before turning the knob and rushing into the bathroom.

After a while, with him seeing me naked so many times, as if I was a female, Jewish prisoner made to walk around naked in Auschwitz, I was numb to it. It was no longer a big deal for him to see me naked but, in hindsight, it was a big deal for him to see whatever he could see of his mother. I mean, I still covered myself with a towel but, perhaps, I didn't make the issue out of it that I should have.

Knowing that he was, with the whole house shaking, I wondered if he masturbated over me. I wondered if he masturbated over all that he saw of me. I wondered if he masturbated over seeing me in my bra and panties, topless, and naked. I wondered if he masturbated over imagining having sex with me. Sometimes, something that I did when I was horny, I masturbated over him seeing me naked. I imagined seeing him naked. I imagined him having sex with him, too.

Sexually aroused when I masturbated over the forbidden, sexual thoughts of my son, I felt ashamed, embarrassed, and perversely perverted later. I'm his mother. I'm not supposed to feel this way about Jimmy. He's my son. What's wrong with me?

F F F

"Sorry, Mom. I have to pee," he said, already standing in the bathroom and facing the shower curtain.

He was no longer my little boy, but my18-year-old, grown man. He could definitely see more than my naked silhouette through the clear, plastic shower curtain. He could see me if I was a prostitute on Bourbon Street, in New Orleans, Louisiana advertising for a John.

Instead of turning away from me, removing his penis from his pajama pee hole, and standing in front of the toilet to pee, he faced me. As if doing a slow and seductive striptease, he sexily pulled down his pajama bottoms before sitting on the toilet. Returning the favor of my unintended exhibitionism, he exposed his big dick and naked testicles to me. As if he wanted me to see his naked prick and, no doubt he did, I found it difficult not to look at his exposed cock in the way that he stared at my exposed breasts, naked ass, and naked pussy.

'Oh, my God,' I thought. 'If I wasn't sexually aroused enough with him seeing me naked, I can't believe I'm seeing Jimmy's naked prick.'

I pretended not to look through the clear, shower curtain but, unable to help myself, I looked. In the way that he stared at all that he could see of my naked body through the clear, vinyl material, I pretended not to stare at his naked prick, but I did stare. I enjoyed seeing him naked in the way that he enjoyed seeing me without my clothes. I definitely will be masturbating tonight over seeing Jimmy's naked prick.

He had a big dick, a much bigger penis than his father. I wondered if he was flaccid or had stroked himself to an erection before entering the bathroom. I wondered if he was deliberately flashing me his naked cock or if he always sat while peeing. I pretended that I wasn't watching him but, from out of the corner of my eye, I stared.

Only, something that a mother should never do, I'd be mortified if he ever caught me staring at his naked cock in the way that I caught him staring at my naked body. Unable to admit it to myself, I'd be embarrassed if he thought I sexually wanted him in the way that I suspected that he sexually wanted me. In thinking about it now, I did want him in that forbidden, sexual way. Not having a man in my life, I was as lonely as I was horny and sexually frustrated.

A 41-year-old woman without a man, I had sexual needs, wants, and desires that weren't being met. In hindsight, I realize now that when he deliberately exposed himself to me while pretending that he had to pee, with him not turning to face the toilet, he wanted me to see his cock. He wanted me to see his big dick as much as I wanted to see his big dick.

Something that I was unable to admit then, I can freely admit now. He wanted to see me without my clothes, as much as I wanted him to see me without my clothes, and as much as I wanted to see him without his clothes. Genetically similar, as mother and son, apparently, I was just as perverted and horny as he was. Again, something that was difficult for me to admit before he was married and living with me, I was as sexually attracted to him as he was sexually attracted to me.

Yet, I could never go there. I could never cross that forbidden, incestuous line and have sex with him. That would be wrong. That would be nasty. I'd be a terrible person. I'd be a horrible mother if I ever had sex with my son.

Yet, on the flipside, perhaps, if I had sex with Jimmy, he wouldn't think of me as a terrible person. He may think of me as a wonderful person. He may not think of me as a horrible mother. He may think of me as a terrific mother, a mother who'd have sex with her son.

F F F

The first time it happened, the first time that he saw something of me that he shouldn't have seen, uncomfortable at how much I was showing and how much he saw, I was embarrassed. Then, the thought that my son had seen me in my bra and panty, topless and/or naked sexually aroused me. Having him see me topless and/or naked was certainly more embarrassing and more sexually arousing for me than having him see me in my bra and panty.

At first, when I realized he had deliberately tried to see me in my panty and bra, topless, or naked, I felt violated. I felt sexually abused. Yet, with me as horny as I was, inflamed by incestuous thoughts, the embarrassment that I felt developed and manifested itself into sexual arousal. Returning the favor of his lustful, sexual desire with my lustful, sexual desire, unable to help it and unable to stop it, I developed and possessed a sick sexual attraction to my son.

Perhaps, now, as my explanation, it had something with him being married and forsaking his mother for another woman. Definitely, I was possessive. He was my son and I was his mother. Maybe, I was just jealous. I don't know. Maybe, it bothered me that he was having sex with Kathy, his new bride, instead of having sex with me, his loving mother.

I remember dismissing those forbidden, incestuous thoughts with the knowledge that I was his mother and he was my son. I pretended that neither of us thought of what had just happened sexually. Only, kidding ourselves, years later, judging by how sexually aroused that I still felt, it was obvious how sexually excited he must have felt about me back then.

Whether we didn't admit it then or still failed to admit it now, we were unable to sweep our sexual affections for one another under the rug. There was, and has always been, even now, a real sexual attraction between us. No denying it now, something that we needed to have to get it out of our systems, my son wanted to have sex with me as much as I wanted to have sex with him.

I needed to make love to him. He needed to make love to me. I needed to fuck him. He needed to fuck me. I needed him to finger my pussy and lick my cunt. I needed to stroke his prick and suck his cock. I needed him to cum in my mouth.

He lived with me until he was 20-years-old. He left me to move in with his girlfriend when she became pregnant with their son. Like mother, like son, I was pregnant before I was married. Even after he was married, I still harbored those same sexual feelings that aroused me from the time that he was 18-years-old. Something so forbidden, and shockingly true, I wanted to be my son's lover. No doubt, he wanted to be my lover, too.

When he left home to start his life with his girlfriend who soon became his wife, feeling so alone and lonely, I was crushed. Maybe, I felt empty because he was no longer my constant companion. Definitely, I missed him.

Maybe, I was just horny and needed a man in my life. Maybe, and again, I was possessive that he had another woman in his life and I no longer had a man. Yet, for whatever the reason, I still felt a twisted, sexual desire, a longing sexual passion, and a sense of loss for my son.

F F F

Had I known then that Jimmy was trying to see me naked, I would have been shocked. I would have been more than embarrassed. I would have felt uncomfortable. I would have confronted him, perhaps, and had a talk with him about the birds and the bees.

With him trying to see his mother without her clothes, not normal behavior, maybe I would have taken him to see a professional, a psychologist. Only, in the way that I sexually felt and thought about my son now, I'm the one who needed the psychiatrist. Hating to admit it but he had sexually aroused me when he tried to see and did see whatever he saw of me without my clothes. If he wanted to see me naked now, I'd let him.

Regretting my moral modesty, had I known that he was trying to see me without my clothes, maybe I should have deliberately exposed myself to him. Maybe, I should have sexually teased him by showing him upskirt peeks of my white panties and up nightgown peeks of my naked brown, bushy pussy. Maybe I should have flashed him my long line of sexy cleavage and low-cut brassiere in down blouse views. Maybe I should have flashed him my naked breasts and erect nipples in down nightgown views.

Who knows what may have happened? Maybe, he would have had forbidden sex with me. Maybe, I would have had incestuous sex with him. Maybe, I wouldn't feel as sexually attracted to him as I still do now. Maybe, I wouldn't feel as horny and sexually unsatisfied as I do now.

Once I started feeling a sexual attraction to my son, once I started fantasizing about making love to him, and giving him regular hand jobs and blowjobs, I chalked that bad behavior up to my being lonely. Blaming it on myself, I figured that I was sexually frustrated. I figured that there was something wrong with me. Maybe it was a hormonal imbalance or a side effect from some of the medication my doctor had prescribed that I take. Maybe there was something in the flavored water that I drank or the low carb, fat free food I ate.

We don't know what chemicals they put in foods today, byproducts of what they give to the animals for them to procreate and for the crops to flourish. They tell us to read the labels, but if the farmers are injecting their cattle, pigs, hens, and crops with designer drugs to make for a better harvest of beef, pork, chicken, milk, eggs, and produce, we have no control over what we eat. Not to mention all the shit they dump in the ocean that indirectly makes it to our dinner plates with the fish we eat.

Who knows what chemicals we're putting in our bodies and the side effects that they may have. I realize that I'm searching for justification of why I suddenly felt a sexual hold on Jimmy. Yet, for whatever reason it was, I had suddenly developed a deep and strong sexual attraction for my son. Always thinking about him, I couldn't remove him from my mind. Maybe, I would have been over it now if I had stroked him, sucked him, and fucked him back then.

I knew my sexual feelings for him were wrong. Ashamed to admit it, when thinking about my son sexually, I was no longer thinking motherly thoughts. I imagined Jimmy naked and with an erection. I imagined him reacting favorably, an understatement, to sexually seeing me naked. I imagined touching him, kissing him, and making love to him, while he touched me, kissed me, and made love to me. I imagined us having passionate sex. I imagined him fucking and me fucking him.

"God, I'm so fucking horny," I said shocked that I said it out loud. "What's wrong with me?"

'I need to get laid,' I thought. 'I need to find a man. Maybe if I had a man in my life, I wouldn't have these incestuous thoughts about wanting to have sex with my son.'

F F F

Just as I knew that nothing would ever come of it, I knew those incestuous thoughts were wrong, but they continued to happen. So long as I didn't act upon my incestuous feelings, what could possibly go wrong? With no one else knowing how I truly felt about my son, not his wife, and surely not Jimmy, what could possibly reveal my forbidden, sexual thoughts for him?

'Jimmy, I want you. I want to stroke your cock while sucking your cock. I want to blow you. I want you to cum in my mouth. I want to swallow your cum,' I thought. 'I want you to make love to me. I need you to fuck your mother.'

Whenever there was no one around to hear me, while thinking the thought, and believing that if I thought it, and said it enough times that he'd sexually want me, too. Only, what would I do if he did want me? He's married now with a child.

It sounded good at the time, but realistically, it's a sick fantasy for a mother to want to have sex with her son. It's not normal. I'm not normal. I'm fucked in the head to want to have sex with my Jimmy.

What did I know? Still a child myself, when I had him as a baby, I was so young, so immature, and so emotionally troubled. As he matured, not realizing that Jimmy was a testosterone filled, horny, young man; I didn't realize that he had been abusing our living arrangements while hoping and trying to see whatever he could see of me without my clothes. No doubt, he masturbated over whatever he saw of me later.