Mom Sleeps with Son on ChristmasbySusanJillParker©
Rather than thinking about him, her son, who was there with her now, instead of looking over at him, she stared at his reflection in the Christmas ornaments that hung from the Christmas tree in front of them. He wished she was thinking about him in the way that she was always preoccupied with his father. Gone, gone, gone, his father is gone now and never coming back. If his father didn't think of her and care how she felt with him leaving her, why is she wasting her time thinking of him?
"What mother? What were you going to say? You started to say something. It's just that...what mother? You didn't finish your thought. Tell me."
Charlie looked at his mother as if she was the only woman in the world and in the way that he was so focused on her with his stare and with his thoughts, at that point in time, she was.
"I know it sounds silly and I can't believe I'm telling you this but, old enough to know such things, what I miss the most about your father is sleeping with him," she said biting her lip while looking at her son. "Even though he cheated on me, lied to me, deceived me, and drank to an excess, he made me feel safely comforted when sleeping with me and when spooning me," she said still staring at her glass of wine while remaining silent for a long minute. "More than that he was a good and generous lover," she said biting her lip as if embarrassed discussing sex with her son.
"I can understand that," said Charlie while imagining sleeping with his mother.
With someone who looks like her in his bed, he'd be a good and generous lover too. Imagining spooning her while reaching over her to feel her big tits, his father was a fool to let her go for some young, bimbo. Now that she was confessing what she did with her husband, he couldn't help but imagine his parents having sex.
"Feeling his hand on me, holding me, touching me, and feeling me was comforting. Tossing and turning, sadly, I haven't had a good night's sleep since he left," she said not looking at her son. "I'm so lonely Charlie," she said finally making eye contact with him.
He wondered why she was looking at him in a way that she never looked at him before. Did she want him to replace his father in the sexual way that he wanted to replace his father? Was her look an invitation or just a look?
I'm so horny he wanted to say but, not wanting to ruin their moment of honest and open dialogue, he didn't dare say what he was thinking and feeling. With their age as much of a distance to as their mother and son relationship, there was an uncomfortable silence between a forty-two-year-old mother and her twenty-two-year-old son. If their ages weren't a gap too wide to bridge, the fact that they were mother and son lusting over one another was the road to ruination.
Maybe just wishful thinking and/or a figment of his overactive, incestuous imagination but, because of all the up skirt and down blouse flashes, Charlie couldn't help but to suspect that his mother was sometimes, deliberately flashing him. In the way that he always did when imagining flashing her and when she flashed him, he suspected that she received some titillating fun sexually teasing him. Sexual, sexy, seductive, flirtatious, and teasing, he knew that she sometimes played him in the way that she always played his father to get whatever she wanted from him. Only, he didn't care that she used him, so long as he got what he wanted too, enough up skirts and down blouses for him to masturbate over later while imagining himself having sex with her.
Charlie watched his mother fidget with her wine glass as if she was rubbing off a water spot with her thumb. In the way that she was so focused on rubbing the glass, he couldn't help but imagine her running her finger over the head of his cock while rubbing him to an erection. Killing two birds with one stone, her loneliness and his horniness, he wondered how she'd take what he was about to say next. Only, how could he solicit his mother? What kind of son would proposition his own mother?
Taking another sip of his wine, the two glasses of wine that he just had gave him the courage that he needed to blurt out his true feelings for her. She put her wine glass down to play with the hem of her skirt as if there was an imaginary spot there too. With her feet on the floor and her knees close together as if cemented in place, when she lifted her skirt hem even just a little to nervously fidget with it, she rewarded him with a continual flash of her white panties. Did she know she was flashing him her panties? Was she aware that he could see a triangular patch of her panties over her shapely thighs? Then, catching him looking albeit with him unembarrassed that she caught him staring, she fluffed down her skirt and crossed her legs again.
He couldn't shake the image of him sleeping with his mother. He couldn't stop thinking about lying beside her while holding her, cuddling her, and spooning her. In the way that he was thinking about her, he wondered if she was thinking about him.
"I can sleep with you Mom," he said blurting it out while looking at her to watch her reaction to what he said.
Leaving his statement out there for her interpretation and comment, he wondered how she'd receive what he had just said. He wondered what she'd say in return to his bold statement. As if she wasn't even in the room with him, there was no reaction just silence, that is, until his words finally penetrated her alcohol and preoccupied brain. She looked at him as if she had just heard him. Moreover, she looked at him as if she was considering his offer to sleep with her.
As if on cue, she uncrossed her shapely legs and when she did, she turned more towards him and flashed him her panties again. Maybe it was the wine but never has she flashed him her panties as much as she was flashing him her panties tonight. Now with her knees parted just enough, she gave him a continual view between her legs. For sure, while imagining having sex with her, he'd be masturbating tonight over his mother flashing him her panties.
"Sleep with me? You'd sleep with me?" She looked at him as if she didn't know his meaning. "Now why would you want to sleep with your old mother?"
She looked at him with shock. Unable to conceal what she was thinking behind her sexy, naughty look, perhaps because of her wine consumption, she looked at him with sexual excitement. She looked at him in a way that he's never seen his mother look at him before. She looked at him in the way that he's always looked at her and was looking at her now.
"I don't mean having sex with you, Mom. I mean just lying beside you as if we were resting instead of sleeping," he waited for her reaction before speaking again.
"I know what you meant," she said looking as if she was disappointed that he wasn't propositioning her for sex.
Now he wondered if he did proposition his mother to have sex with him, if she was lonely and horny enough to have sex with him. Why not? Even though they were mother and son, they were both human with wants, desires, and needs. Consenting adults, no one would know what went on behind her closed, bedroom door.
Definitely, he'd do her, if she asked him. Looking at him as if she was some woman he had just asked to go home with him, hopefully, he wondered if she was considering what he had just asked her. Not waiting for her to answer his question, he asked it again.
"Seriously, Mom, what if I slept with you?" As if he was speaking to his mother in his sexual fantasy and as if he was saying what he'd masturbate over later while imagining himself sleeping with her, he persevered. "What if I cuddled you and spooned you in the way that Dad used to do, would that help you to get a good night's sleep?"
He imagined himself in bed with his mother. With his arm wrapped around her and his horny hand in contact with her abundant breasts, he imagined his cock pressed tightly against his mother's ass. Taking advantage of her by having his wicked, sexual way with her, he imagined touching her and feeling her shapely body through her thin, satin nightgown as soon as she fell asleep.
"Oh, Charlie, you're such a good son. Too good to be true, I wish it was that simple but," as if changing her mind in midsentence, she paused. "Actually, yes, now that I think about it, that probably would help me to sleep better. In the way that I used to comfort you when you wanted to sleep in Mommy's bed, now you can comfort me by sleeping with me just until I fell asleep," she said unashamed.
With him sleeping with his mother, even for only an hour was his foot in the door. He could only imagine holding her, spooning her, touching her, and feeling her.
"Wonderful," he said excited by the thought of sleeping with his mother.
"I'd like that very much," she said nodding her head as if she needed that extra bit of head movement to convince herself that it was okay to sleep in the same bed with her adult son. "You holding me and spooning me in the way that your father used to do would be just what I need to get a good night's sleep. It would help me to pretend that you were him," she said immodestly and immorally.
It would help me to pretend that you were him? Is that what she just said? What did she mean by that? Did she mean sex? He wondered if his mother was thinking about having sex with him in the way that he was thinking about having sex with her. He wondered if his mother was just as horny for him as he was horny for her. Just the thought of him being in bed with his mother already gave his cock a hardening twitch.
"Let me know when you're ready for bed and we'll go up together," he said.
He thought to himself, definitely, with his erection already making a proud appearance, he'll remove his underwear and just wear his thin pajama bottoms and a tee shirt to bed. The rogue elephant in the room and in the bed, he wondered if his mother would notice and/or would comment on his erection. Even more important than what he was wearing or not wearing, he wondered what his mother would wear to bed. He hoped she wouldn't wear a flannel nightgown. He hoped she'd wear her short, low cut, black, sexy, slinky nightgown, the one she always packed when going away with his father.
"Actually, I'm ready for bed now," she said standing, yawning, and stretching. From his chair, he watched her blouse rise up to expose her flat stomach before rising higher to expose the bottom of her bra and the underside of her bra cups. "This wine is making me sleepy," she said pulling down her blouse before letting out another yawn and before carrying the wine glass out to the kitchen to dump the rest of the wine in the sink and to rinse the glass.
* * * * *
Susan got ready for bed while her son used the guest bathroom. Obviously feeling sexy or horny, as the case may be, perhaps from the wine consumption or perhaps because her son volunteered to sleep with her, she put on her sheerest, shortest nightgown. A nightgown that she never got to wear for her husband, she chose the nightgown that parted in front as if it was a sarong or a full body kilt without the big pin keeping it closed. With only one button at the neck holding it closed, it looked like an oversized, wrap around cape with two big holes for her arms. Having only worn it once to bed and by choosing it to wear now, obviously because of how sexy she looked wearing it, no doubt eager to wear it again, perhaps it had been a long time since she felt sexy enough to wear it.
Charlie knocked on her bedroom door.
"Mom? Are you decent?"
With his mind reeling with sexual excitement of sleeping in the same bed with his mother, he hoped she wasn't decent. He hoped she slept in the nude. He hoped that she'd open her bedroom door naked and insist that he'd be naked too.
"Come in Charlie," she said.
She got up from the dressing table and when she stood her nightgown caught itself on the dressing table drawer. Flashing her son her naked body, her nightgown was wide open for an instant before she quickly closed it. Yet, with her sudden flash happening so fast, too fast, he didn't have time to react in his stare to see anything other than knowing that she's naked beneath her nightgown. She walked over to her son to wrap her arms around his neck and to give him a kiss on the lips.
"What's that for?"
Surprised that his mother kissed him on his lips, he looked at her looking at him. He so wanted to give his mother some tongue but he didn't dare. This was his mother after all and not some barroom slut who brought him back to her apartment. Besides he didn't want to ruin things by rushing things. Rather taking it slow, whatever happens will happen once he's in bed with her.
Her nightgown was so beautiful and she looked so sexy wearing it. So sheer, now that she was standing next to him in the bright light of her bedroom, he could see that she was naked beneath the practically see-through material. As if he was a spy noticing every detail of her shapely naked body, giving him a peek-a-boo shot of what lay beneath that flimsy material, he couldn't help but notice that her nightgown opened in the front whenever she moved.
Bursting his eyeballs out of his head, briefly, she briefly flashed him enough of her blonde pussy for him to know that she's not wearing panties, that she's trimmed, and that she's a natural blonde. Only having seen her pussy in darkened, in between her legs, up nightgowns before, never has he seen her pussy head on when she was standing immodestly tall until now. Excitingly shocking, he couldn't believe he just saw his mom's pussy. Moreover, as if she was his Christmas gift and she was wrapped in pale, blue chiffon, tissue paper, he couldn't believe she was wearing that to bed with him lying beside her.
"It's Christmas silly and you're standing beneath the mistletoe," she said laughing while removing her arms from around his neck to readjust and close her nightgown that had fallen open again. "Merry Christmas Charlie," she said kissing him on the lips again.
If only to sacrifice her comfort for her modesty, she kept her hand in front of her as if she was wearing a hospital gown backwards. With him wanting to see more quick peeks and furtive glances of her naked body, he wished it was suddenly windy in her bedroom. As if she was suddenly transported in time and was Sally Fields as the Flying Nun, he's love to see her wearing that nightgown while standing on a hilltop overlooking the ocean. As if she was an angel, his angel to ogle, he'd loved to see her nightgown billowing open in the wind around her naked body. He so wanted to put on the overhead fan but it was a little cold in her bedroom already. He couldn't wait to get her beneath the covers and warm himself by cuddling with his mother.
"Oh," he said looking up over his head and pulling her to him by her arm to return her kiss with his. No doubt, her excuse to kiss him and now his excuse to kiss her, he wondered why his mother put mistletoe over her bedroom door when they were the only ones in the house.
When he surprised her by pulling her to him in that way, hoping for a view of her tits, the front of her nightgown opened again and he was rewarded with another quick view of her pussy before she put a hand there to close it again. After he kissed her, not wasting time with conversation in the way that he imagined she would, she climbed in bed, the side by the wall, and he got in on the other side. Quickly moving beneath the covers, they lay there like that in silence without talking. Always having wondered what it would be like to sleep with his mother, he wondered what she was thinking. He wondered if she was thinking about him in the lustful, sexy, incestuous way that he was thinking about her. He wondered if she was just as sexually excited as he was.
"I'm tired," she said yawning again and turning to him to give him a goodnight kiss as if he was her husband of twenty-five years instead of her twenty-two-year-old son before turning off her bedside light.
"Me too," he said returning her kiss with his without touching her. "I can't wait to for you to see what I bought you for Christmas."
"I'll find out soon enough," she said. "Good night Charlie."
"Good night mom."
* * * * *
When she rolled on her side, his cue to cuddle her and spoon her, he scooted over to her. With her nightgown having so much material, his body was on her nightgown and when she rolled on her side, her nightgown remained beneath him. Peaking beneath the covers to see what he could see of her, the entire left side of his mother's body was exposed to his horny eyes. Her tit, her ass, and her pussy was there for him to ogle.
With the vision of his naked mother burnt in his head, he felt his cock growing stiffer. Not wanting to impale his mother's ass with his cock, barely touching her, he didn't know what to do with his arm and his hand. As if afraid to touch his nearly naked mother, he kept his arm to himself while allowing it to rest on his leg. Besides, afraid to touch her naked skin, not wanting her to close her nightgown, he didn't want her to know that she was so exposed.
"Charlie," she said.
"Yes Mom," he said popping up his head to see if he could see any more of his mother's body but she was already hidden beneath the covers.
"I'm not contagious. Don't be afraid to touch me and to hold me. I don't bite," she said with a nervous laugh.
With her nightgown wide open, when he put his arm around her slim waist and pulled himself closer to her by holding onto her body, his hand was now inside of her nightgown. When he held her in that way, touching her bare skin, he was surprised to feel her naked, toned stomach. As excited feeling her naked stomach as he imagined he'd be feeling her breast, her ass, or her pussy, he couldn't believe he was touching and holding his mother in such a familiar way.
With her making no move to close her nightgown, even though she, obviously now knew by the feel of his hand on her skin that her nightgown was wide open, she surprised him with her immoral immodesty. Moreover, the fact that the bottom of her breasts were mere inches above his horny hand gradually hardened his cock to full erection. So tempted, he so wanted to reach his hand up to touch her breasts, to feel her tits, and to finger her nipples. Voluntarily, so as to not hump his mother's ass, not wanting him to know that he was sexually excited enough to have an erection, he backed away from her to allow only his thighs to come in contact with her and not his hips.
"You feel different than I thought you'd feel Mom," he said.
"I do? What do you mean? How do I feel?"
As if reaching for something beneath his car seat, he slowly ran his hand down along her stomach and stopped when his fingertips touched the top of her pubic hair. As if butting up against a barbed wire, electrified fence, he left his fingers there as if afraid to touch her pubic hair. He couldn't believe he was touching his Mom's pubic hair with the tips of his fingers. Waiting for her to swat his hand away and close her nightgown, he couldn't believe she allowed him to touch her in such a sexual way.
Subtly and ever so delicately, he played with the top of her pubic hair as if he was touching her eyebrows. He wondered how far down she'd allow him to move his hand before stopping him. With her pussy slit mere inches away from his long fingers, he so wanted to continue moving his hand down, all the way down, to cup his mother's pussy before splitting her slit and fingering her. He wondered if she was as wet for him as he was hard for her.
"You feel younger and firmer than I thought you'd feel," he said.
He wished he could feel more of her. He wished he could feel all of her.
"I exercise and I watch what I eat," she said with a laugh, "but thank you for the backhanded compliment."