Mommy's Favorite Valentine is Me

Now the normal thing for a shoe salesman to do, when struggling to fit a foot, is to check her shoe size, but he didn't. Content to open her legs wider with his wrestling to fit her foot, he was more intent on seeing my mom's panties than sizing her foot to fit. With every movement of my Mom's leg, with every gradual upward movement of her short skirt, he got to see more of her panty.

I imagine that some women who flash the shoe store salesman aren't even wearing panties. My Mom was agreeable to flashing her panties, but not her pussy. Just because she has incestuous sex with her son doesn't make her a whore. Besides, she thought it would be more subtly erotic for her to wear bright, white panties and she was right. Watching her flashing her panties was making me excited. I can only imagine how excited the shoe salesman was.

It was so hot watching my mother expose her panties to the shoe store salesman. He never removed his eyes from my Mom's crotch and she played the modesty and the sexually inhibited game, by holding a hand on her skirt and adjusting it down, whenever it climbed too high to be accidental. Yet, after a while, in a desperate try to get her foot to squeeze in the too small boot, she cast away her modesty and inhibitions and lifted her leg higher and wider to give the lucky man a good view of her bright, white, cotton panties, along with her camel toe.

Because it was her special day, her 40th birthday, we stayed overnight in a hotel and had room service. She decided that she wanted to flash the waiter. She walked out of the bathroom totally naked with her head down, while fixing her hair beneath a towel, just after the waiter wheeled in our food order. He must see this a hundred times but this was the first time for us to do something like this and it was so hot. Timed perfectly, with my back to my Mom, I watched her and the waiter in the mirror. The waiter never took his eyes of my Mom and my Mom pretended he wasn't even there.

Then, when she finally noticed that she wasn't alone, as if she was a deer caught in a car's headlights, she didn't move. She didn't try to cover herself, she just let out a little gasp, before she reacted and ran back in the bathroom and slamming the door. That was so hot.

Pretending she was embarrassed was masterful. If I didn't know it was all staged, I would have thought it accidental, too. The waiter had a good, long look of her tits, ass, and pussy. He saw everything.

"You're a lucky man to have a beautiful woman like that," said the waiter laughing and giving me a wink.

When I told my mother what he said, that made her day. As a rite of sexual passage, she wanted to experience all the sexual things now that she should have done growing up as a young, single woman, but never did because she was a single mom caring for me. Watching her flash other men is as much fun for me, as it is for her. I'm all for this new sexuality. It's hot when my Mom shows her body in the way that she first started flashing me, so long ago.

Of course, my favorite flashes of my Mom that day was when she tried on clothes in a department store that still has curtains in their dressing rooms. Leaving the curtain open just enough to give the bored boyfriend and or husband a sexy striptease show, while looking straight ahead at herself in the mirror, she pretended that she was oblivious to those men watching her, as she undressed and dressed. Watching the reaction of the men staring and trying not to be noticed and/or caught looking at her standing there in her bikini panties and bra was priceless.

It's also very erotic for me to watch her undress and dress knowing that the man or men standing outside the curtain can see what I can see, too. In the car on the way home and again later that night during pillow talk before, during, and after we had sex, I told my Mom all that the men could see of her. If it wasn't enough to have her flash, it was even hotter to talk about her flashing.

On the way to the hotel from the mall, she flashed truckers her tits on the highway. She even flashed a tollbooth attendant her panties in the car. Before this day of flashing, as a prelude that led up to this day, she told me that she's worn short, flared skirts on a windy day and had a whole line of men walking behind her staring at her panties. Then, another time, while wearing a low cut top and a short skirt, she's sat on buses and trains with her knees parted just enough to give the man sitting across from her a view of her panty and the man standing over her a view down her blouse. My Mom is so playful and I'm glad she's so uninhibited and not afraid to flash her body. So open and honest about our sexuality, the pillow talk and the sex we have afterward is incredible.

Accustomed to having sex with my mother, now that I'm older, was more of a big deal, when it all first started and when I was so much younger and inexperienced. This story is about how our incestuous relationship started, progressed, and developed to a love affair that is worthy of having a Happy Valentine's Day with her favorite Valentine, me.

A totally normal reaction of my sexual development, my first memory of how it all began was when I was 18-years-old and sexually maturing. Horny from hormones, I was fixated on seeing bits and pieces of my Mom's anatomy for fuel to masturbate over later. I was always masturbating then, as much as five times a day, never less than twice a day. Filled with testosterone, I was a regular cum machine.

Because it was just my Mom and me, I had plenty of opportunities to see what I shouldn't be seeing of my Mom's body to satisfy my lustful needs of voyeurism. Relaxed and comfortable in her own apartment, she wasn't as careful with her attire, as she should have been around me. Thinking that I was the one that was the pervert, I always assumed her flashing me was accidental, but now I know better.

Still a sexual woman, she had needs, too, and was as horny as I was. Knowing that I was always looking to see, she had slowly been trying to seduce me by teasing me in exposing parts of her body to me. Just as I was trying to voyeur her to masturbate later over what I saw, she was exposing her body to me, so that she could masturbate later over what I saw of her, too. New at the games that women play, so innocent and naive, I had no idea.

After I saw enough of her to make me excited, I'd self-abuse myself with constant masturbation, while thinking about touching and having sex with my mother. Hoping she'd never catch me looking, how would she know that I was always trying to voyeur her? I was always discreet, sneaky would be more the word. I'd be so embarrassed, if she knew I lusted over her, just as I'd be so embarrassed if she caught me masturbating over the semi-naked and naked thoughts of her.

Then, on those days that I was so horny and so out of my mind with lust for my mother, when I needed more peeks of my Mom's body to replace the same old ones that I tired of masturbating to, I'd accidentally on purpose walk in on her, while she was changing or while she was in the bathroom showering. I remember being so nervous but with a feverish excitement, I couldn't stop myself from going through with it.

Hoping to catch her, occasionally, I'd catch her with her nightgown over her head or, on the rare occasion, just stepping out of the shower naked. Seeing my Mom naked made me want to rush to her and hold her, kiss her, touch her, and feel her, but I only did that in my sexual fantasies of her, while masturbating. Our coming together was a slow progression and it took two years to finally reach the satisfying sexual plateau of where we are now.

In retrospect with all the videos that are on the Internet now, if they had personal computers and the Internet then in the way they have now, maybe my fixation over seeing my Mom naked would have been relieved and relaxed by me masturbating over Internet videos of others, instead of needing voyeuristic peeks of her. Back then, all I had was a dog eared copy of Playboy and Penthouse magazines found in my neighbor's trash. After a while, just as I tired of masturbating over the same Penthouse and Playboy photos, I tired of masturbating over the same images of my Mom. It was more exciting to masturbate over something new, such as seeing my Mom's panties in an up skirt view or the side of her breast through an unbuttoned button or a down blouse view.

My Mom was only 17-years older than me. A big age difference when I was younger, suddenly wasn't such as big of an age difference now that I was older. Transgressing from her being my Mom, to her being my older sister, to her being my best friend and confidant, and then lover, took two long, sexually frustrating years to accomplish but, with both of us wanting and needing the same thing, our passion was soon realize in an incestuous mother and son sexual relationship.

In hindsight, we wouldn't have had the same long-term love connection that we now enjoy, had our relationship exploded in the way of us just having hot, sweaty, regrettable and embarrassingly awkward sex one day. Building our flames of passion more slowly, over years, with all the teasing that preceded our love affair, it took us longer to get to that point. When we did finally get together, it was more tender and loving than it was perverse and incestuous. No longer to be denied, the love we felt for one another made the sex so much better.

My favorite memories of my Mom was when she'd walk around the apartment in just her sheer nightgown. For sure, there was nothing sexy about her nightgown, other than the fact that she was wearing it and that my Mom didn't wear panties to bed. My Mom has a nice little body, a body like Susan Sarandon had, when she starred in that movie, Atlantic City with Burt Lancaster, before I was even born. When I finally saw that movie on TV, I thought I died and went to Heaven. I imagined it was my mother in that movie standing at the kitchen window topless and washing off the fish smell with lemons she received from working all day in a fish market, while inadvertently flashing her tits to me, instead of to Burt Lancaster.

When all the other lights in the house were off, the fact that my Mom's nightgown became virtually see through, when she opened the refrigerator door and leaned inside was so exciting. Imagining they were hanging in my face, I loved seeing her tits hanging down when she leaned over like that in the refrigerator. Imagining her naked, that view of her never failed to arouse me and I'd have a fantasy of lifting her nightgown up from behind and doing her doggie style, while she asked me what I wanted for breakfast. I can't tell you how many times I masturbated over that fantasy.

Staring at her, as if I suddenly had X-ray vision, I saw the round outline of her breasts hanging down, a raised tuff of pubic hair, and her ass crack, when she turned to me slightly. Just as I can't tell you how many times I masturbated over the thoughts of having sex with my Mom, I can't tell you how many times I masturbated over that image of her leaning in the refrigerator like that. A time that I was wild with hormones, coincided with the time my Mom was reaching her sexual peak.

The other oblivious view she gave me was the one where she opens the drapes in a darkened room in the way an emcee would open a stage curtain. The bright light from the sun illuminated her and made her thin nightgown totally transparent, as if she was naked. Wow. Again, my fantasy of coming up from behind her and reaching around her to feel her big tits and finger her nipples, while rubbing my growing erection against her nightgown clad ass always gave me an erection.

As I grew older, I always wondered if she knew that I could see her body, when she leaned in the fridge and when she stood in front of a brightly lit window. Now comfortable enough with her to ask her anything, it was something that I needed to know. Finally, after our relationship developed into a sexual one, I asked her, while putting my question more as a statement.

"I like it when the kitchen light is off and you open the refrigerator door and lean inside, while wearing your nightgown."

"Why?"

"Because your nightgown becomes virtually transparent in that light."

"It does? Really?" I still couldn't tell if she knew of if she was playing along with me.

"The same thing happens to your nightgown, when you open the drapes every morning."

"Seriously? You can see everything, as if I'm standing there naked?"

"Everything, Mom."

"And did that make my Valentine excited?"

She reached over and gave my cock a squeeze and instantly, I had an erection.

"Are you kidding me, Mom? I masturbated over the image of you leaning in the refrigerator and standing in front of the living room windows for years."

"So, you enjoyed Mommy giving you a show of her tits, ass, and pussy?"

She left her hand there, while rubbing my growing erection.

"I did and sometimes, when the only light in the living room was from the TV, and when you stood in front of the television in your nightgown to change the channel, I could see through your nightgown."

"Well, that explains why you were always walking around with an erection."

"You knew I had an erection?"

"Val?" She cocked her head, while looking at me incredulously. "How could I not know you had an erection? It was obvious. I have needs, feelings, and sexual desires, too, you know. Not to be crass about it but, before I started having sex with you, it had been a long time since Mommy had a cock in her hand, in her pussy, and in her mouth."

"Gees, Mom," I said with a laugh, while imagining my mother with three men and with a cock in her hand, one in her pussy, and one in her mouth. "You're making me horny."

"Sorry, Valentine," she said removing her hand from my cock, "but it's time you know that your mother gets horny, too," she said with a laugh. "Maybe not as horny as you, though," she said with another laugh. "You're the horn ball in the family.

"Did you ever masturbate over me?"

"I did sometimes, when I was in the bathtub, but not nearly as much as I imagine you masturbated over me," she said with a laugh. "Guys are different than women. Guys are more visual and women more emotional. All it takes to make a guy horny is for them to see a bra strap," she said with a laugh. "Women need much more than that to get in the mood for romance and for sex."

"Like this," I said fingering her nipple through her nightgown, before raising the hem of it and fingering her pussy. She was already wet and I could tell she wanted my cock. She wanted me to make love to her, again.

Yet, I'm jumping way ahead of myself. We didn't have such open sexual conversations, until much later in our relationship; it took us two years to reach that point, before so openly discussing masturbation. My fondest memories of my Mom was my birthdays on Valentine's Day. Even during the tough times, when we had very little money, she always made my birthday a special occasion.

Since I'm 6'2" tall, comparatively speaking, my Mom is a little bit of a thing, barely 5'4" and because she's so short, her tits appear so much bigger. She has big tits, anyway, but her C cup would look smaller and more, normal on a much taller woman. I checked her bra size and she's a 34C. Every morning she weighs herself and if she's a pound over 120 pounds, she diets the whole week. I think she's skinny albeit curvy but, a typical woman, she thinks she's fat.

"I was always 100 pounds in high school," she likes to say.

Every time she mentions high school, she suddenly looks so sad because she didn't graduate. She became pregnant in her senior year. It was different back then, when she was going to school. Good girls didn't get pregnant, if they weren't married, and good girls didn't attend high school, when they were pregnant.

My favorite times spent with my Mom were sitting on the couch together, sharing a bowl of popcorn, while watching a movie. We are both total movie buffs and sometimes, during a chick flick, I could feel her getting just as horny as I was getting aroused. It always electrified me, when she sat close enough that parts of her body were in contact with mine, such as her hip or thigh. I imagined my hand touching her, where no son should ever touch his mother. It always amazed me how much of her breast I could feel with my forearm and, whenever she leaned forward, I'd leave my arm there, so her breasts would rest where I imagined my hand was, instead of my forearm.

Always, I sat on the left side of her, so that if one of her buttons came undone or sagged open, I could see what I needed to see of my Mom to masturbate over later. I can't tell you how many up skirts, down blouses, panties and bras that I saw of my Mom. It was a rare treat to see more of her breast or a hint of her pubic hair, but always I was looking. Fortunately for me, because she was so casual and oblivious in her attire, she was always showing.

As my voyeurism and her exhibitionism continued and developed, I'd sit on the couch wearing just pajama bottoms without underwear and a tee shirt. She'd wear her short, low cut nightgown. It was a happy occasion for me when she replaced all her old, long, flannel nightgowns with short, sexy low cut nightgowns. Replacing her long flannel nightgowns with short sexy ones, may have been the turning point for our incestuous relationship. Finally, I was seeing more of what I wanted and needed to see, without having to wait for her to open the refrigerator door or stand in front of the window to open the blinds.

As the movie progressed and she moved around changing positions to get more comfortable, her nightgown would climb higher. I knew she wasn't wearing panties and just the thought that her naked pussy was only inches away from my horny hand drove me wild with incestuous thoughts about my mother. Sitting there with her knees spread apart or one leg tucked beneath the other, oblivious to my surveillance of her, or so I thought, I could always tell when she wasn't wearing panties because there was no panty line. I'd always drop something, so that I could bend forward to pick it up, while hoping to serendipitously see up my mother's nightgown. With just the light from the TV, all that I saw was what I imagined seeing. Still, it was enough for me to masturbate over later.

Sometimes, she'd have a blanket on her lap and with the both of us under the blanket, we'd cuddle. Knowing that the wool blanket would cause her skirt to rise higher, I always adjusted the blanket for that reason. I was always able to feel more of her, whenever we sat beneath the blanket. I loved resting my hand on her thigh and she'd rest her hand on my stomach. It felt so good when she leaned into me and allowed me to put my arm around her. Sometimes, she'd fall asleep with her head on my lap and her fingers coming in contact with the very top of my cock and that always immediately became an erection.

With the blanket across her lap, whenever she got up to go to the bathroom or to get something to eat or drink, her nightgown was always momentarily up to the top of her thighs. More than once I saw her pussy and that always gave me an erection. Having never eaten a woman, I fantasized about falling between my Mom's legs and licking her, touching pussy, finger fucking her, and playing with her clit. Of course, my first priority would be to stare at and touch her pussy, as I've never seen a pussy up close.

Whenever we sat on the couch cuddling, I'd have my arm around her, while massaging her shoulder and/or her back, my excuse to touch her, and she'd lean into me. Now, with her so close to me and leaning with her nightgown top falling open, I had a clear view down her nightgown of her cleavage and the top of her breasts. I so wanted to reach my hand down my mother's nightgown and feel her breasts, while fingering her nipples. I just loved her big tits.