Sex with my Mother, Francesca.

Sex with my Mother, Francesca.

Mother, Francesca, and son, Raymond, have incestuous sex after dad died.

# # #

Author's Note:

This true story was written for Raymond about what happened between him and his mother immediately after his father's death and the day after his subsequent funeral. With neither one of them planning it, and with his mother grief stricken and lonely, mother and son unintentionally, yet, consensually had sex. She innocently invited him to sleep with her in her bed to comfort her. She needed to feel the warm body of a man for her to sleep.

While allowing her son to sleep with her in her bed to hold her, hug her, spoon her, touch her, and feel her, with one sexual thing leading to another sexual thing, Francesca had incestuous sex with her son. Unable to control himself from going too far with his MILF of a mother, Raymond had incestuous sex with her. When she invited her son to sleep with her in her bed, she never thought that he'd take sexual advantage of her especially on the day after she buried her husband.

When his mother invited him to sleep with her in her bed, something that he yearned to happen and masturbated over imagining, he never thought that he'd be having sex with her. Yet, as their raw, sexual emotions for one another surfaced and erupted, she made sweet and gentle love to her son and he fucked his mother fast and hard. With neither one a victim, they both consensually got what they wanted and needed from the surprised, sexual union. She felt better feeling the sexual love of a man and he felt sexually satisfied after finally having sex with his mother.

Missing her husband, and with her horny, sexually unsatisfied, and hungry for sex, indeed, Francesca took sexual advantage of her son, Raymond, by stroking him, sucking him, and making love to him. With him never sexually attracted to his mother before, suddenly, after pressing his body against her while holding her, hugging her, and spooning her, his prick grew big and hard. Suddenly, sexually lusting over his mother, Raymond felt her naked breasts through her nightgown and fingered her pussy beneath her nightgown while sleeping with her.

Seemingly, with both of them as lonely as they were horny, Francesca was as sexually attracted to Raymond as he was sexually attracted to her. Yet, not all perversely sexual, they both needed the sexual comfort of one another to get over the death of her husband, Raymond's father. At that moment of their loss, it was important for them to bond. Francesca needed to have incestuous sex with her son as much as Raymond needed to have incestuous sex with his mother. People have different ways of bonding and for them, it meant sex, incestuous sex.

# # #

A two-pack a day smoker, and a six pack of beer a day drinker, my father was a stubborn man. Even if it meant the death of him, which it eventually did, he never stopped drinking. He never stopped smoking. With his self-destructive behavior ruining his health, he did nothing to help himself by making healthy choices.

Not understanding why, he refused to have his COVID vaccination shots. A big eater, he was morbidly overweight. At high risk for COVID, he had Diabetes, too.

Checking off all of the deadly boxes, with him twenty-years older than my mother, at 63-years-old, by Social Security standards, he was considered elderly. With him attending professional, football games that put him in direct risk and in contact with thousands of people, he caught COVID. He succumbed to the dreaded disease a month later.

Yet, this story isn't about my father, Larry. This story is about my mother, Francesca. She took it hard when my father got sick and when he needed to be hospitalized. She did everything she could to help him stop smoking, cut down on his drinking, and eating less by making foods that were more nutritious. Yet, he wanted his fried foods and his big pieces of beef, especially his fried chicken and his barbeque.

Inconsolable, she took it even harder after he died. Here one day and gone the next, she couldn't believe that he was dead. Yet, with the poor physical condition that my father was in, an early death was inevitable. He was warned at every physical that he had. Ignoring doctor's orders, he did nothing to help himself. He did nothing to save himself and to live longer than he did.

His doctor told him to diet. His doctor told him to stop smoking. His doctor told him to stop drinking. His doctor told him to exercise. His doctor told him to get vaccinated. Yet, ignoring his doctor's advice, he ate, he smoked, he drank, he didn't exercise, and he didn't get vaccinated.

Lastly, but most importantly, he refused to have his COVID vaccination shots. With him at high risk for COVID, it made no sense why he refused to protect himself from contracting that deadly disease. Yet, what would anyone expect from a man who smoked, drank, didn't diet, and didn't exercise all against his doctor's advice?

# # #

A morally modest woman, even though she had consensual sex with me, it's important to know that my mother is not an incestuous whore. She's a wonderful woman. A good Catholic and a church going woman, she had never had incestuous sex with me until her husband, my father, died. She's never been sexually attracted to me until she was desperate for loving, sexual companionship. She has never made a sexual pass or made a sexually, inappropriate comment to me until she needed to feel the love of a man, a real man, one who could get and maintain an erection.

With us having a good relationship, we were always close. We were as close as mother and son could be without being sexually intimate and having sex. I loved my mother as a son would love his mother and she loved me as a mother would love her son. Just as my mother never thought that she'd ever be having an incestuous, sexual affair with me, the furthest thing from my mind, I never thought that I'd ever have an incestuous, sexual affair with my mother.

Even though I sexually fantasized over having incestuous sex with my mother, I never thought it would happen. Even though I masturbated over imagining her naked, I never thought that I'd ever see her without her clothes. Even though I masturbated while imagining her having sex with me, nothing more than a masturbation fantasy, I never realistically thought that my mother would ever have sex with me.

Before I slept in her bed and before we had sex, I had never seen my mother naked. I had never seen her topless. I had never seen my mother's naked breasts. Never seeing more than her bra strap, I had never even seen her in her bra and panties. Yet, whenever masturbating myself over my mother, I imagined her in her sexy bra and bikini panties. I imagined her topless. I imagined seeing, touching, and feeling her big tits while sucking her erect nipples. I imagined her naked before imagining having sex with her.

With her always wearing a robe over her nightgowns, I had never seen her nightgown clad breasts, her erect nipples, her symmetrical areolas, or her shapely, nightgown clad ass. My mother was embarrassed for me to see anything of her that I shouldn't see. Even wearing a coverup over her bathing suit, her bathing suit was a one-piece and never a revealing bikini.

Long before my father became sick, showing my loving respect for my mother, I hugged her every day. Nothing more than a peck on the lips, never parting her lips with my tongue and French kissing her, even though I imagined doing that, I showed my appreciation to have in her my life by giving her a loving kiss. I kissed her good morning and I kissed her good night.

Again, as I wrote before, I loved my MILF of a mother. I truly loved her. She was my best friend. We discussed everything and laughed over nothing.

My mother married my father when she was 18-years-old and he was 38-years-old. With them having a twenty-year difference in age, he was more like the father that she never had than the husband that she wanted and married. With my mother only 19-years older than me, I had more in common with her than I had with my father. Whenever we talked, we were always on the same page.

With my mother only forty-three-years-old and with me 24-years-old, we had many of the same interests. We liked the same movies. We read the same books. We knew the same facts about celebrities that my father didn't know. Whenever we joked, we got one another's humor. With our humor going over his head, we laughed at one another's jokes. We got one another in the way that he never got her and/or got me.

# # #

With me not into football and/or team sports, my father's main interest and his only interest other than drinking beer and eating barbeque was football. A season ticket holder, while wearing beloved number 12 jersey and Patriots hat, he attended every game to the New England Patriots. He loved Tom Brady until Tom Terrific deserted his team and signed with the Tampa Bay Buccaneers as their quarterback.

After Brady left, he cancelled his season ticket and never attended another football game. Seemingly with him only watching football because of Brady, he lost interest in watching football. The only football game that he watched after Brady left the Patriots was the Superbowl. He was proud of the fact that Tom Brady won the Super Bowl with a different team. He was proud of the fact that Brady continued playing even when he was in his early forties.

# # #

After my father died, we had so many people in our house paying their respects and bringing food. My father had a lot of friends, football friends, poker partners, and drinking buddies. Everyone loved my father. He was popular with the all you can eat crowd and would go out to eat with them every week. He played poker with his friends every Saturday night. Then, forsaking church for football, he attended Patriot games every Sunday during football season. A typical man, he was a man's man.

With my father's friends knowing better than to hit on my MILF of a mother, after he died, it didn't matter. Several of his friends were intent to sexually get with her. If they already haven't had sex with her, they wanted to have sex with her. Who could blame them? With her so much better looking than their short and fat wives, she was so beautiful. She was so sexy. She was so shapely.

They wanted to make out with her while feeling her through her clothes. They wanted to slowly strip her naked while French kissing her. They wanted to make love to her. They wanted to fuck her. They wanted her to blow them and cum in her mouth. They wanted to do everything that a friend should never do with another man's widow.

Only, my mother wasn't interested in another older man or in any man. She especially wasn't interested in any man who smoked, drank beer, ate barbeque, and held a season ticket to football games. This time she wanted someone her age or younger. This time she wanted a man who was more interested in her than in cigarettes, beer, food, and football.

She wanted a man who physically took care of himself. She wanted a man who didn't smoke, who drank socially, who walked, and who exercised. She wanted a man who could get and maintain and erection.

She not only wanted a man who had a full head of hair, she wanted a man who had all of his teeth. Done with one husband dying on her, she never wanted that to happen again. Besides, too soon after the funeral, unable to do anything else, all she wanted to do was stay home, sit on the couch, and watch television while having a glass of red wine.

Every night my father cuddled on the modular couch with his wife. With the couch across from the big screen TV, seeing the television straight on instead of at an angle in the way that I was forced to watch it, they had the best seats to watch television. After my father died, inheriting it, I took his seat. Now, finally, I could clearly see the TV.

Only, with him so heavy, making an ass sized indentation in the couch cushion, he flattened the seat where he sat. Totally unsupportive, his couch seat lacked any support at all. I moved his couch seat to the end of the couch and replaced it with a couch seat that had never been sat on. I was surprised when my mother didn't admonish me and tell me to sit where I had always sat. Instead, welcoming the warmth of my young, hard body and the comfort of my arm around her shoulder, she sat next to me. Then, in the way that she cuddled with my father, she cuddled with me.

'I can't believe I'm cuddling with my mother,' I thought. 'I can't believe she's cuddling with me.'

# # #

Sexually surprising me, my mother walked in the living room wearing her sexy, low-cut, short, and sheer nightgown without wearing a robe over it. Stunned, the first time seeing her without her robe, never have I seen as much of my mother's beautiful body as I was seeing now. Stunned at all that she was showing, all that I could do was to stare. Definitely, I'll be masturbating over all that I was seeing of my mother now, tonight.

I could clearly see the size and the shape of her big, naked breasts. I could see her symmetrical, brown areolas and I could see her erect, pink nipples. I could see her patch of dark brown pubic hair, and when she turned the other way and leaned forward, I could see her ass crack.

'Oh, my God,' I thought. 'I can't believe that I'm seeing my mother's nearly naked, beautiful body.'

Yet, there was nothing sexual in our cuddling. She allowed me to put my muscular arm around her shapely shoulder and hug her. Then, leaning into me, she put her head on my chest and her warm, soft hand on my thigh. Never having felt my mother's hand on my thigh, I wished she'd move her hand a little higher. I wished she'd place her hand on my pajama clad cock in the way that I wanted to place my hand on her nearly naked breast through her thin, sheer nightgown.

# # #

As good as I felt holding my mother, her warm hand felt good on my thigh. With her soft hand mere inches away from my pajama clad cock, unable to control how I suddenly sexually felt about my mother, my prick slowly erected. Then, again, unable to control my erect cock, it throbbed, it ached, and it pulsated for the anticipation of my mother's touch. Embarrassing myself as much as it sexually excited myself, my erect cock noticeably tented my pajama bottoms.

In the way that I stared at all that I could see of my mother's nearly naked breasts, she stared down at my throbbing and pulsating erection. Then, when she leaned more into me, my chance to touch and feel what I had always wanted to touch and feel, I moved my hand lower for my fingertips to be in contact with the side of my mother's big breast. The first time touching the side of my mother's big breast through her nightgown, I couldn't believe that I was practically feeling my mother's big tit.

I couldn't believe my mother hadn't shrugged my hand away from her blouse and bra clad breast. I couldn't believe she allowed me to feel the side of her nearly naked, nightgown clad breast. Only, I so wanted to inch my hand to the front of her. I so wanted to cup her big tit in the palm of my horny hand.

'I'll be masturbating over touching and feeling the side of my mother's nearly naked breasts tonight and tomorrow morning,' I thought.

Then, sexually exciting me while making herself more comfortable, when she leaned even more into me, the side of her hand touched side of my throbbing and pulsating, erect cock through my pajama bottoms. Surprising me, I wondered if she touched me deliberately or accidentally. She didn't move her hand away from touching my erect cock.

Yet, with me deliberately touching the side of her breast, I was more sexual in touching the side of her naked breast with my fingertips. I was more sexual in touching the side of her nearly naked breast through her nightgown than she was when placing her hand on my thigh and unintentionally touching the side of my erect prick through my pajama bottoms. I could only imagine how good my mother's naked breast would feel in my hand and her erect nipple would feel in my mouth.

# # #

When she didn't admonish me for touching the side of her big tit nor slap my hand away, ever so slowly and lightly, I stealthily and slowly inched my hand forward and around her. I continued moving my horny hand until I lightly cupped her big breast through her nightgown. As if it belonged there, her big breast felt so good in my hand.

'I can't believe I'm holding my mother's big breast in my hand,' I thought. 'Definitely, I'll be masturbating over holding her tit tonight and tomorrow morning,' while hoping that she'd barge into my bedroom without knocking and catch me masturbating over me imagining her naked and having sex with me.

I cupped my mother's nightgown clad tit. I couldn't believe that I had cupped her big tit through her nightgown. I couldn't believe that I was stealthily holding my mother's big breast in the palm of my hand and she wasn't moving away from me to stop me from groping her. I couldn't believe that she allowed me to feel her big breast.

Her nearly naked breast filled my hand. Continuing to tent my pajama bottoms, my erection grew bigger and harder. Having felt plenty of breasts in my short life before, between the size and the weight of her breast, I figured my mother had D cup breasts.

I love big tits, the bigger the better. I love big breasted women. With older women much better than younger women, I love older women. I love my mother.

Something that I'll never see, I wished I could see her naked breasts. Yet, nothing more than a sexual fantasy, I wished I could touch and feel her naked breasts. I wished that I could suck her erect nipples while fondling her naked breasts. I wished I could have my wicked, sexual way with my mother's naked tits before having my wicked, sexual way with the rest of her beautiful, naked body.

When I stealthily held breast in the palm of my hand, surprising me that I had sexually aroused her, I felt her nipple erecting against the palm of my hand. With her nipple growing bigger and harder against the palm of my hand, her nipple felt so big and so hard that I wished that I could see it. I wished I could finger it. I wished I could suck it.

Only, just as I had never seen my mother's naked breasts, I had never seen my mother's nipples either. I had never felt her naked breast and/or her nipple until I felt her breast through her sheer, low-cut nightgown and felt her nipple hardening against my hand. I couldn't believe that I had sexually aroused my mother enough for her nipple to erect. I couldn't believe that my mother had sexually excited me enough for me to have a huge erection. I wondered if she was as wet as I was already hard.

# # #

Every night thereafter, as if I was her husband instead of her son, we cuddled on the couch. Every night, I placed my arm around her shoulders. Then, as the evening progressed, I lowered my hand until my fingertips came in contact with the side of my mother's big tit. With my fingers in contact with the side of her breast, I slowly inched my hand around her. Then, as she drank more wine, stealthily, I moved my hand more to the front of her to cup her nightgown clad breast in the palm of my hand.

Living out my sexual fantasy, I couldn't believe that I was cupping my mother's big breast in the palm of my horny hand. I couldn't believe my mother allowed me to cup and hold her big tit. I couldn't believe that my mother wasn't admonishing me for feeling her nightgown clad breast or slapping my hand away. Seemingly, she sexually enjoyed me feeling her breast as much as I enjoyed cupping her big tit.

Every night we sat on the couch while watching a movie and drinking wine. Instead of my father hogging the TV and watching all the programs that he wanted to watch, with us having the same taste in television, my mother and I watched reality TV, American Idol, the Voice, America has Talent, Survivor, the Bachelor, and the Bachelorette. No longer wanting to go out drinking and partying with my friends, I was content to remain home, watch TV, and cuddle with my MILF of a 43-year-old mother.