Mommy Mind Fuck

The following story depicts a sexual mother-son relationship and contains themes of non-consent. All characters involved in sexual activity or thoughts are at least 18 years of age.

My mom sleeps like a rock, which is fine because it let me get away with a lot of things growing up. I could dodge parental talks after school (she would come home from work really exhausted). I could watch TV instead of doing my homework. I could sneak in the house after staying out late at night.

As I got older, she added drinking to her routine. It wasn't a lot at first, just enough to forget the day and drift off to sleep; she knew I could cook my own dinner and take care of things without her. I know it sounds like she is a terrible mother, but she is very loving and would spend every waking moment trying to do what was best for me – it is just that sometimes she was too tired to do so.

When I was starting to "just come of age," I started to notice mom's assets. I couldn't stare too much at the girls at school, but I could take a long look at my mom taking a quick nap on the couch.

Mom is a very attractive lady. She has one of those faces that is always smiling. For an older woman with a grown son, she has kept a nice figure. She dresses like she is still in college; attractive, youthful – not slutty and definitely not what the other ladies down the street wear.

One time, the summer after my senior year, mom was lying on the couch with a pretty loose top that got bunched up around her ribs as she was sleeping. The temptation was too great; her shirt was just inches away from exposing her boobs. I figured that with a shirt that loose, I could lift it and take a look without her noticing.

I tried pulling it off, but didn't think it through too well. Her arms were still draped across her clothes, making it difficult to pull up. I had to tug at her shirt very slowly to avoid stirring her and risking exposure.

The hard work was worth it though. Beneath her shirt were those lovely mounds of hers, soft white flesh, dressed in a very lacy bra. The bra was powder blue and just a bit see-through so that I could make out her reddish nipples. I was holding up her shirt and staring for so long that I didn't notice that she was starting to wake.

I escaped to my room and jerked off. Catalogs and men's magazines aside, it was the first time I had seen a real live woman in her underwear; it didn't matter that it was my mother.

It was then that I realized that I hadn't taken any pictures; no fodder for future self-gratification. I cursed my lack of foresight as I might not ever have had the opportunity again.

Fate must have been listening to my prayers, because the next day mom fell asleep with her shirt already pulled up. It was a warm day, she was wearing a casual top and she must have lifted her shirt up to air it out in her sleep. She was holding it bunched up to her bosom. All I had to do was slide the rest of the shirt around the tops of her breasts, which was much easier than lifting up her shirt the previous day.

The bra that she had on wasn't too sexy; anything too frilly would show through under such a light shirt. However the V of the front clasp lifted and pushed her tits together beautifully, her creamy skin overflowing in their cups.

I thought about how I missed out on getting some pictures of her the day before and I ran to get my camera. I came back just in time to see her wake up from her nap, straightening her shirt and looking a little confused as to why her shirt was pulled up.

I was foiled, but now I had the taste of blood in my mouth; I wanted to see more. I spent every waking moment devising ways to coax mom out of her clothes without her noticing. I trained my brain to spot openings in her defenses, places I could lift or pull away her clothes easily. By then, I carried my camera in my pocket any time I was around the house.

Occasionally, I would get caught off guard and I would have to abandon her with her clothes still pulled up. Mom would wake and look at herself quizzically before straightening herself out. At that point, her undressings had a degree of plausibility – skirts shift, shirts ride up, maybe a strap on her tank would fall.

That got me to thinking about what else I could get away with in her fog of sleep. I surveyed my pictures of her on my computer. There were definite favorites in terms of outfits and underwear. Of course, I liked any spaghetti strap tank that she had. Light skirts were flirty and easy to pull up. Surprisingly, jeans were also a favorite; during the day, they would be tight and form fitting, in the evening she would unzip the constricting pants and pull them down slightly as she relaxed on the couch.

Underwear: I liked anything see-through and/or low cut. Mind you, she is an adult mother – so there were no transparent materials or Brazilian cuts. What she did have were lacy sets (that were see-through enough) and thin cotton (so thin that I could make out the shape of her areola). As for the design, she had a decent selection of low cut bras for evening wear and high cut panties for when she wanted to feel womanly.

There was one day where she stayed up the night before, compiling a report, and had to work late the following day. Needless to say, she would be dead on her feet by the time she got home. She has been like this before; there would be nothing waking her until two in the morning. Knowing this in advance, I spent the whole day fantasizing about what I would do with her.

I definitely wanted to dress her in some of my favorite outfits. While she was at work, I picked out what I wanted her to wear – down to her underwear. In the process, I realized that not everything I pulled would go together. I had to make a few practical changes to my selection – the longer skirt matched the sexy tank better, the plain cotton underwear looked better under the outfit than the strappy lace ones.

Mom barely made it to the couch when she got home. I pulled up the blanket over her to speed her on the way to sleep. I waited a full hour before undressing her to make sure she was asleep. I tested the waters by adjusting her arms. I took a heavy hand and plopped them where I wanted them; and I knew she was asleep. She was out and it was time for the fun to begin.

I started with her feet because I felt they were the easiest. I am not much of a foot person, but there was something special about unstrapping her heels and sliding them off her graceful slopes.

The pants were tricky. The clasps were unexpectedly complicated; much different than a boy's pants. Getting her waistband around her hips was another hurdle; I never realized that pants do not just fall off a curvy woman's body.

The shirt was a pleasure to remove. Undoing each button was like opening a new box at Advent until the grand prize presented itself, my mother's ample bosom.

I wanted to jump in and remove her bra right away, but thought it much more rewarding to stop for a picture and savor the moment for then and the future. It was a lovely shot: my mother lying on the couch, in her panties and her shirt open, displaying a soft, white cotton bra.

I had a little fun with the next part. To unhook her back-clasp bra, I lay next to her in the sofa and put my arms around her, pretending to be stripping my wonton date for the evening. I then positioned myself at her feet to pull her panties down towards me.

I was enjoying the ambience of the dark room, but it was time to raise all the lights. I would always treasure the pictures of mom in her underwear, but I did not want anything, like a blurry photo in low light, to mess up my time with mom naked. I took pictures in every manner imaginable: full body shots from above; close ups of everything; up her crotch with her legs spread; turning her over to get her ass (yes, she was really tired).

Next was the pleasurable task of dressing mother. She had this pair of white, ribbon strapped, high leg briefs that I loved. I have never seen her wear them before (I haven't seen her in panties much, I admit) and she had no others even similar to them in her drawer. With it, I matched a white bra with a laced demi-cup; subdued, yet sexy. For her skirt (it had to be a skirt, it was best thing she had in her closet to show off her legs), it was a navy, knee length number with a button side (unbuttoned, of course). I had a revealing tank top picked out for her, but decided the shirt she had on was sexy enough – especially with the front unbuttoned down to under her breasts.

I jacked off heartily that night, both in front of my mom and later that night in my room.

I heard mother wake up at 1:30 in the morning and rushed over to see her. She looked confused at the outfit she was wearing (not what she remembered putting on that morning) and how she was wearing it (what kind of woman goes out with her shirt unbuttoned down to her belly?). Accepting that what she had on must be what she wore that day, she carelessly began to undress in the living room on the way to her bedroom. I was in disbelief that mom would do such a thing where anyone (like me) could see her – I don't care how tired she felt.

I almost laughed out loud when mom noticed the racy underwear she had on. She was really surprised and paused for a moment, making sure that it was what she was seeing.

It was a nice bonus that she removed her bra before hiding herself away in her bedroom. I got to see a little spillover of her breasts from behind. I had already seen (and took pictures of) her boobs head on, but it was still exciting seeing her strip and catching an almost glance of them. Too bad she didn't take off her panties.

Mom was wasted the next morning. She skipped over her usual shower and freshening up to head straight for the refrigerator for some kind of breakfast that didn't require any work. I was still high on my sexy dress up games with her last night.

I handed her the sliced apple I was about to have for myself. The sugar helped drag her brain back to life.

"I don't even remember coming home," she mumbled, trying to piece together the previous evening. "Did you see what I had on? Why would I wear that to a presentation with my task group?"

Then the part of her brain that tries to put order in the world kicked in and she attempted to rationalize what had happened. "Maybe I changed to head out to the pub afterwards – but where's my work outfit?"

"I don't know," I chimed in, "but you looked nice ... really sexy." I flashed her a comical wink.

She gave me an annoyed look for the "sexy" comment, but then smirked at the compliment.

That evening, I was too afraid to try anything with her – having gotten away with so much the night before. The hunger to do more with my sleepy mommy ate at me all night. I had to do something tomorrow.

Wednesdays were always busy for her. I knew that she would be tired when she got home, just not as tired as she would get on an especially bad Monday where she stayed up late the night before. To facilitate her grogginess for then, I spiked her iced tea. She never noticed the taste, and if she did, she enjoyed the buzz too much to care.

That day's ensemble that I would have her wear was a sleeveless dress shirt with a too-short pleated skirt, hiked up even higher. Nylon stockings and simple loafers finished up the piece. Sexy and definitely not something that she would wear to the office, yet not too outrageous to believe that she would not wear it.

I heard her approach my door that night, as if to ask me what she wore that day, but she then just walked away. The next morning, mom put on a pretty conservative outfit.

"What's with the old lady get-up?" I asked.

"I don't know what's wrong with me," she said, her brain trying to figure what has been going on the past couple of days, "I wake up groggy because I went to bed too late and I end up dressing like an idiot in the morning."

"I thought you looked hot," I said in return.

Mom was a little annoyed at my remark. "And what's with this 'hot' comment? You don't talk like that about your mother."

"You're the one dressing like that around me," I said defensively, "I'm a guy ... I'm only human."

My argument made her think for a moment.

I composed myself, hoping to salvage the situation and make it work for me. "You looked nice yesterday. A little cleavage, a little leg; isn't a bad thing."

After her angry demeanor, I didn't expect her to smile at my compliment.

She turned back to her bedroom. "I guess I'll put on something nicer – I can make up the time by skipping the coffee shop."

That night was the same routine. I little liquor in her drink and dress up time with pictures afterwards. Mom was getting more confused by the day, but I think she was enjoying her "double" life.

Friday night, I decided to make her my special date for the evening. I selected a "going out" outfit for her to wear and tossed her "at work" clothes in a pile next to the sofa, as if she changed for a night out.

Her underwear was special; the day before, I went out to a sexy boutique and bought her something daring: a very frilly lace "wedding" bra with matching panties. The bra was a push-up shelf type and the panties were high leg bikini with a thong back.

Amongst the pictures I took, I took several with me next to her: holding her breasts or holding my dick out to her. I fondled her as much as I dared and even kissed her a few times.

I was surprised to find her the next morning, not confused at what she woke up to wearing, but looking happy and feeling frisky. She was humming all day and wiggled her hips everywhere she went. Later that evening, I would find that she kept on the same underwear that I had bought for her the day before.

"What's got you so happy, mom?" I asked her.

"I found these really pretty underwear that I forgot I had. They make me feel twenty years younger."

I decided that it was well worth it to continue buying her sexy underwear, but I wanted somebody to help me pay for it. I called up my friend Carl to go to the mall with me. Carl always used to think that my mom was hot; to which my usual response was disgust and a punch in the arm. He was going to enjoy the pictures I would provide him later.

At the mall, I started for the lingerie shop.

"Why are we going here?" he asked. We always giggled like immature children at the sexy mannequins in the shop window as we walked by on the way to the movie theatre or food court, but we never dared go inside.

"I found a girl," I told him smugly, "she just loves dressing sexy for me. If you buy her an outfit for me, I'll have her model it for you."

Another thing I should tell you about Carl: he is a virgin and has never seen a naked girl before. When he scoffed at my story, I responded with the close up shots of my mom (no face) in the sexier lingerie that I had her wear. He counted the money in his pocket and proceeded to look for the sluttiest thing he could find.

I knew I couldn't have my mother wear anything too trashy; she would never believe she owned such a thing. My strategy was that with the amount of money he had, he couldn't buy anything too outrageous. The store that we were at, they did not have anything too scandalous. He selected a thong made of black see-through mesh and paired it with an equally transparent matching camisole that would hang just below the breasts.

It was still the weekend, so it would not seem too unusual that mom might wear something racy for the evening – as long as she had somewhere to go. I needn't have worried, feeling as sexy as I have been making her feel, she had to go out.

She came home later than usual when she has a "night out." She was a little disheveled; she probably met some guy, make out with him, but couldn't bring herself to bring a sexual partner home to her son. Most of all, she was very much wasted. Mom made it to her bed, managed to kick off her shoes and collapse on the spot. Even though she was out like a light, I still waited my customary hour before trying anything with her.

Like I said previously, mom was still wearing the special undies that I had bought for her earlier. It was a shame to change her out of them, but my plans for my mom (however vague they were) had to keep moving forward or they would lose momentum. The black see-throughs was the next slutty step forward.

Another twist I was going to add: I was going to plant pictures of her on her phone, as if she were vainly taking pictures of herself to prove how sexy she was. Carl, an artist when it comes to photo-manipulation, would be helping me with this step. I needed these shots of her passed out to look like she was fully awake.

I had to have Carl's help, not only to fix the pictures before my mom could check her phone the next day, but I needed him to help set her up to look like she was sitting up on her own. Because mom came home so late, it was well past any polite hour to call him.

I texted him.

"Go away, it's late," he replied. I was afraid he wouldn't check his phone at all.

"I need your help. Besides, you are going to like this." I attached a picture, obviously my mom and obviously wearing his lingerie, taken with the crude camera on my crappy phone.

Carl's reply was swift. "OMG what do you want from me? Anything ...."

"Come over now," I instructed, "I will explain when you get here."

He rushed over as fast as he could. He told his parents that I had some kind of emergency and I guess that was a little true. When I asked him if he could help me stage a few pictures and fix them a little he told me that it would be impossible.

"We can't set up a photo session, pose her like she's awake, then export the pictures into your computer, fix them, then import them back to her phone – all before morning ... impossible, it's practically morning already."

I knew that there had to be some way of doing it and I knew that Carl would be very motivated to do it ... I just needed to find the right way of asking. I looked down at my mom; passed out and wearing a sheer top and panties. He looked down with me.

"I know we can make her into our sex slut," I told him.

Carl just raised his eyebrow in disbelief.

I sat next to mom and lifted her up, my arms around her and squeezing her tits under the cami. As if on cue, mom stirred, eliciting a slight moan from her lips. I knew that it was just a sleepy-time moan, but it sounded enough like a moan of pleasure to fan his fire. I could see him thinking about how he could make it happen.

I helped convince him. "She only got home an hour ago, so she will be out until at least mid-morning – that gives us plenty of time. The camera on her phone is pretty low-res, so covering up your alterations would be a snap."

"And she would only be looking at it on a three inch screen," he added, "so the fixes wouldn't even need to be that good."

I had him on board; he was working with me on a solution. We decided that we only had time to work on three pictures in the time we had; looking in her phone over the real pictures she took of herself in the past, three or four were about right.

The next couple of hours were spent setting up and deciding on the proper poses for her. I held her up, my hands and arms as much out of the frame as possible. Carl took the pictures, measuring his arms length to her to make it as true to the set up as possible. He also made them slightly askew, to look more like a picture taken without someone behind the lens.

Carl slaved over fixing the pictures. It took him much longer than expected to find awake eyes from other pictures of my mom that would match orientation, attitude and make-up of the sleeping eyes we had in the pictures.

Mom woke up earlier than expected, ten o'clock. Carl was finishing up covering up his fixes. I dressed into some night clothes and met her in her room to run interference.