Mom Seduces Virgin Son on Nude DaybySusanJillParker©
If she thought she was the perverted one for flashing him, he was the perverted one too for always staring at all that she was showing. Being that she was the moral mother, always making her flashes appear accidental instead of deliberate, not wanting him to think bad of her, whatever she showed him and whatever else she imagined he saw, she masturbated over later. Always masturbating, in the way she was excited over flashing her father, whenever she flashed her son, she couldn't wait to flash him again. What was wrong with her that she needed the focused affirmation of a blood, male relative to make her feel sexually alive?
A gradual progression that she always made to appear accidental, the longer he looked, the more she'd show, the more he'd look, and the more she'd want to show him the next time. It's not her fault that he was looking at what she was accidentally showing. A captive audience after her mother died, flashing and teasing her son brought back memories of how she used to flash and tease her father.
Not wanting to make the same mistakes with her son in the way she did with her father, but prepared to live with the consequences if she did, she thought she learned her lesson from the incestuous mistakes she made with her father but she didn't. Always the cockteaser, a game she excelled at playing, she couldn't help herself from driving men crazy with her body, especially her male, blood related relatives. Not sure why, but for some reason, the flashing was more decadently delicious when flashing a blood relative.
* * * * *
"Guess what Mom?"
Escalating from him barging in her bedroom, one of many times that he's done that to her before, she recalled the first time that her son came in the bathroom while she was relaxing in the tub to tell her something that seemingly just couldn't wait. Again opening the door without knocking, shocked, she couldn't believe that he was standing there. How long was he there? She didn't know. How much did he see of her? She had no idea.
"Guess what Mom?"
Usually relaxing, sometimes even falling asleep while listening to music through her earbuds with her eyes closed, after having a drink and/or smoking a joint, she always wondered how long he had been standing there watching her before making his presence known to her. It was exciting for her to think that he had been standing there all along while peeping on her. Sexually excited by the prospect of him peeping on her, she imagined he must have seen as much of her as she wanted to show him of herself.
Only, wishing she could have an out of body to experience to see what he's already seen of her, she wanted to share in his sexual excitement too. She'd just have to be satisfied with the thought that, no doubt, he's seen her naked plenty enough times through the murky bathwater. An unprecedented first step, how perfect would it be if they could have pillow talk about all that she's shown him of her and all that he's seen of her? Without and before actually touching and having sex, a titillating first step, she'd love to talk dirty to him, if only he'd talk dirty to her.
Just as she routinely masturbated over him, knowing that he was behind his closed bedroom door jerking off over all that he saw of her, she wished she had the nerve to go in his room to give him her motherly helping hand and a hand job. She'd even offer him her mouth and/or her pussy if he showed any inkling of wanting her sexually, other than peeping on her. Every time she thought of blowing him and/or fucking him, she'd get horny, she'd get sexually excited, and she'd get wet. As her pretense to barge in on him at his most embarrassing time, maybe she should ask him a guess what question too.
'Guess what Michael? Did he see my tits? What did you think of my pussy?'
Susan wondered if he saw her naked through the murky bathwater. Imagining that he had, she felt her breasts and fingered her nipples while imagining that her hand and her fingers were her son's hand and fingers. Feeling his presence even when he wasn't there, as if he was an elusive ghost standing behind her peeping while she relaxed in the bathtub, she kept turning around to look to see if she could catch him standing there behind her peeking through the opened crack of the bathroom door. Too busy touching herself while imagining him peeping on her, she never noticed his presence until he walked in the bathroom and took his place on the closed toilet seat to talk to her as she bathe. A bold move on his part, she was just as brazen by not asking him to leave and forbidding him to return when she was taking her bath.
'I wonder what he thought of my breasts, that is, if he even saw them through the bath water,' she thought while looking down at her breasts. 'How could he not see my breasts? If I can see them, he could see them too,' she thought. Sexually excited by the thought of her son seeing her naked breasts, she lifted her breast to her mouth to suck her nipple, first one and then the other, while imagining that it was her son sucking her breasts. Susan continued thinking about Michael spying on her while sucking and fingering her nipples. 'Did he see my pussy too? I wonder if he saw my pussy.'
She looked down at herself to see if she could see her pussy through the soapy bathwater. Sometimes, when she looked long enough and stared hard enough, in the way that he always did when seeing something of her that he shouldn't, she could see her wet patch of blonde pubic but sometimes she couldn't. Getting aroused just thinking of her son peeping on her and seeing her breasts, her areolas, her nipples, and her pussy, she stuck her horny hand down in the bathwater to rub her swollen clit while thinking of her son touching her in the way that she was touching herself now.
'I wonder what he thought of seeing his mother's tits. I wonder what he thought of seeing his mother's cunt. I wonder if he'll tell his friends that he saw his mother naked. I wonder if his friends saw their mothers naked too. Maybe he's installed a camera and posted my naked video online,' she thought while looking around the bathroom for a hidden camera. 'How hot would that be with millions of men lusting over my naked body in the way that my son lusts over me?'
Sometimes offensive terms, cunt and cock, she'd love to talk dirty to him, if only she could. She'd love for him to talk dirty to her, if only he would. She rubbed herself harder and fingered herself deeper with the thought of Michael masturbating over seeing her tits and cunt in the way she masturbates herself over the imagined thoughts of him seeing her tits and cunt and of her seeing his cock.
'In the way that he has the nerve to walk in the bathroom while I'm taking a bath, I wish I had the nerve to stand up from my bath to show him my naked body,' she thought. 'I wonder if he'd stay or if he'd flee. Would he look away or would he stare? I wish I had the nerve to ask him to towel me dry. Modestly covered by my towel, as innocent as it is morally provocative, oh my God, how exciting it would be for him to feel me through the thickness of my terrycloth towel? Rub-a-dub-dub, after standing up in the bathtub, I'd love for my son to touch me and feel me if only through the thickness of my towel,' she thought. Susan fingered herself to an orgasm over the thoughts of her son masturbating over her after he touched her everywhere through the terrycloth while toweling her dry.
Shocked that he came in that bathroom unannounced while she was taking a bath, she didn't want to make him feel guilty in the way that she felt guilty that he was doing something wrong by violating her privacy. Not wanting to clip his wings, she didn't want to end their sexually arousing game to play. Wanting him to be a free spirit in the way she once was when she was his age, before her father raped her, she didn't want him to have sexual issues in the way that she has sexual issues. She didn't want him to be morally uptight in the way she's morally loose now after being forced to have sex with her father. Perhaps going overboard in allowing her son to do whatever he wanted to do, even walk in her bedroom while she was dressing and undressing and walking in her bathroom while she was bathing, there was a fine line between incest and moral decency. Willing to reciprocate his voyeurism with her exhibitionism, maybe she should return the favor by walking in on him too when she knew he'd be naked, dressing or undressing, masturbating, and/or taking a shower.
As if she was fully dressed and decent instead of bathing in the tub naked in front of her son, which she's never been moral enough to be decent, he'd sit on the closed toilet seat and talk to her. Covered up to her shoulders in soapy bathwater, other than her being naked at the time, what's wrong with a mother talking to her son and a son talking to his mother? Even though she cherished every moment talking to her son, especially in the beginning when he started this voyeuristic ritual of walking in on her at the most inappropriate instances, the first time when she was in the bathtub naked was as incestuously disconcerting as it was sexually arousing. Inherently, he knew which buttons of hers to push for him to receive the biggest sexual reaction.
She thought she'd have an orgasm in the way that he looked at her. As if making love to her with his stare and seducing her with his eyes, she loved watching him looking from her face, to her breasts, and to her pussy. Hoping he could see all of her, she wondered what he could see of her. She wondered what he was thinking when seeing her big breasts and/or her blonde pussy. She wished he'd confess and confide his sexy thoughts for her. She wondered if he wanted her as much as she wanted him. To be honest, in the way she was always dressing and undressing in her bedroom, especially when she knew he was going to be home soon, she's never taken so many baths. In hopes that he'd come into her bedroom or bathroom with something important to ask her to guess what before telling her, she's never been so sexually excited while playing his guess what game.
"Guess what Mom?"
As if he was special needs or had Asperger's syndrome, he'd barge in on her bath in the way he did when she was dressing or undressing in her bedroom. Always timing his moves so perfectly while opening her bathroom door so quickly and quietly, waiting until she was naked and in the tub, she wondered if he knew she preferred taking a bath to a shower because she enjoyed masturbating in the tub. She wondered if he's seen her masturbate and watched her masturbate. While thinking her lips was his lips and her fingers were his fingers, she wondered if he watched her suck her tits while rubbing her clit and fingering her pussy. Suspecting that he did, that would be so hot if he had.
With her horny mind filled with her reflection in the mirror behind her that showed the mirror in front of her in an endless array of her naked reflection, she's even masturbated to the imagined thoughts of him standing there watching her masturbate herself. Something a mother should never do in front of her son, she'd like to masturbate in front of him. Something a son should never do in front of his mother, she'd like to watch him masturbate in front of her too. A deadly trap, as if incest is quicksand, the more she wants him, the deeper she sinks in the Devil's abyss.
* * * * *
Perhaps with one watching the other pleasuring themselves, so long as there was no physical contact and no sexual touching, if nothing else, mutual masturbation could be a first step across the incestuous divide. What's wrong with that? It isn't like they'd be masturbating one another, they'd just be watching one another masturbating. Mutual masturbation wouldn't be such a wicked thing to do for a mother to enjoy with her son and a son to take pleasure in with his mother. If only they could masturbate together, she'd enjoy watching him cum just as much as she'd love for him to see her cum too.
Of course, they'd both have to be naked but being naked was part of the masturbation process after all. There'd be nothing wrong with a mother being naked in front of her son and a son being naked in front of his mother, so long as they didn't have incestuous intentions and so long as they didn't touch one another and/or have sex. Only a waste of his sperm to see it collected in a tissue, pooling on his stomach, or dripping on the floor, not sure if she could control herself from doing so, she'd rather he ejaculated in her hand, across her breasts, in her mouth, or in her pussy. Who is she kidding? If ever she saw his cock, she'd suck him before fucking him.
As if brushing his blonde hair or putting suntan lotion on his muscled back and strong legs, something that a mother would lovingly do for her son and a son could do for his mother, unable to let go of the sexual fantasy, Susan wished they could masturbate one another. How hot would that be for a mother to masturbate her son and a son to masturbate his mother?
'Oh my God,' she thought quivering with sexual desire for her son while rubbing her clit and fingering her nipples.
Touching one another while pleasuring one another, if only he knew she was masturbating over the thoughts of him naked and having sex with her, she wondered what he'd think of his mother. If only he knew she'd love to masturbate him while he masturbated her, she wondered what he'd say. Would he think her sexy or evil? Would he think that incest was a dream come true fantasy or a horrible family nightmare?
The first time he walked in on her taking a bath, shocked by his forwardness, she didn't know how long he had been standing there watching her with her earbuds plugged in her ears and her eyes closed. Maybe before opening the bathroom door he had been peeking at her through the open crack. She enjoyed thinking that he did. Meaning to plane the door down so that it would fit properly and close all the way, now she liked having the bathroom door just the way that it is, conveniently ajar enough for him to look in without being detected peeking.
Once he made his presence known to her by opening the bathroom door and walking in on her as if they were husband and wife or lovers, instead of mother and son, she felt the cold air of the opened door on her back and shoulders. With her naked body concealed by the bubbles of her bathwater, she was as embarrassed as she was sexually excited for him to see her so indisposed. Yet, with her modesty prevailing over her lust for him, she ducked down in the water and covered her breasts with a facecloth as soon as he barged open the bathroom door. As the bubbles evaporated from the cold air that he allowed in as quickly as her horniness for him escalated, sitting upright a moment before, she knew he had seen her tits, her areolas, her nipples, and maybe even the blonde patch of pubic hair of her pussy.
"Close the door Michael. I'm cold," she said with a nervous laugh and purposely not inviting him to stay or telling him to leave. "I'm losing my bubbles."
Being that she was his mother and he was her son, close the door and leave is what she should have said but she didn't. Why would she ask him to leave when she wanted him to stay? Why would she say ask him to leave when she wanted him to see her naked? Modestly submerged in the bathwater up to her shoulders anyway, she wondered what he could see of her, probably a lot. Still standing there talking to her before sitting on the closed toilet seat across from her while leering at her, with the bubbles popping all around her as if tiny balloons, she felt as if she was a balloon stripper on stage.
No doubt, with him standing over her, he could see much more than she imagined he could see by her looking down at herself. With the bathwater growing just as transparent as her desire for her son grew heated, no doubt he's seen her blonde patch of pubic hair through the murky water too. Somehow, as if wearing the sheerest of her sexy nightgowns, seductively concealed albeit wickedly naughty to be so exposed to the eyes of her horny son, the bathwater made her feel sexy instead of exposed and concealed instead of naked. Somehow she knew that he'll be barging in her bathroom again while hoping to see whatever he can see of her. With her wanting to show him as much of her naked body as he'd like to see, without touching and without officially crossing the incestuous line, they played a sexy, incestuous game of exhibitionism and voyeurism. What's wrong with that, so long as her exposing her body and him seeing her body appeared accidental instead of deliberate?
Now she no longer bothers with the bubble bath or even with the facecloth to conceal her nakedness from her son. As wicked in her desire for him as he obviously is for her, with the forbidden taboo of incest the only measure thwarting their sexual advances, her lust for her son is a rollercoaster ride of highs and lows. Immodestly immoral from being so sexually frustrated after exposing her body to him, she enjoys showing her son her bare breasts as much as he obviously enjoys seeing his mother's tits. Fun while she's flashing him, incestuous foreplay that's heightened exponentially because he's her son and she's his mother, as if pulling the plug on a high scoring video game in the middle of play, she's even more sexually frustrated when the flashing show is over. Always wanting more while hoping for more, a titillating appetizer, her flashing show is no longer enough.
Yet, unable to cross the imaginary line after dipping her toe deep enough in the incestuous waters by allowing her son to see however much he wants to see of her naked and semi-naked body, she wishes he'd touch her and feel her. Never having considered it before, it was then that she wondered if her son had the same incestuous curse that his grandfather had and that she now has that causes her to masturbate over the thoughts of her son naked having sex with her. With the sexual, incestuous condition inherited, passed down from father to daughter and to mother to son, maybe that's the reason why she enjoys flashing her son as much as her son enjoys seeing her naked.
How could she? How dare she? What's wrong with her to enjoy flashing her body while masturbating over the wicked thoughts of sucking and fucking her son? What's wrong with her son for him to not have a girlfriend and for him wanting to spend so much of his time with his mother in the way that she loves spending so much of her time with her son?
In the way that her son, no doubt, has sexual thoughts for her, what's wrong with her having sexual thoughts for her son? In the way that her son, no doubt, has inappropriately forbidden thoughts about her, his own mother, what's wrong with her to think that inappropriately forbidden way of her own son? In the way she now fantasizes having sex with her son, what was wrong with her father to have had sex with her, his daughter? In the way that she teased her father by flashing him her naked body and in the way that she wants to show her son her naked body, just as his grandfather did before, what's wrong with her son always trying to see her naked? So long as he wants to see her naked, what's wrong with her, if anything at all, for willingly wanting to show her son her naked body? It makes her feel wanted and desired for her to watch him looking at her with lust in his eyes.
Yet, considering the other side of the coin, maybe there's nothing wrong with how she feels about her son and how her son feels about his mother. More than just merely sex, maybe there's nothing wrong with a mother making love to her son and a son making love to his mother. It's just love albeit with incestuous sex attached to it. A recipe for an appropriate seduction, how can love ever be wrong even when flavored with lust, spiced with sex, and peppered with incest? Maybe people should mind their own judgmental business and leave them to do whatever makes them happy.