My Mom Needs Lovebylibidinal©
Growing up, I remember how some kids had parents who were real old. These kids would get real embarrassed whenever their mom or pop came to school and other kids would ask if they were their grandparents.
Well I had the opposite problem. My mom had me when she was fourteen. And my dad, her boyfriend, was only sixteen at the time. And then a year later, not yet fifteen, my mother had another child, my sister Amy. Mom and dad grew up in the hollows of Kentucky where it wasn't all that uncommon for mothers to be so young.
But as a fourteen year old mother, and then at fifteen, with two kids in tow, mom just couldn't handle it. So we were handed over to my grandmother who took over the child rearing chores. We'd see mom once in a while, but she went back to high school and resumed living the life of a teenager. Then, when she was eighteen, she moved to California to join our dad, who was in the Service there. For years me and Amy even assumed that our grandmother was our mother.
But then when I was six and Amy was five, our mom took us back. She was twenty at the time. Mom and grandma had some sort of a falling out, and mom decided that she was now ready to raise her kids herself. Right after that our pop was killed in a training accident.
It took mom a long time to get over dad's death, and this was a tough time for all of us. Me and Amy, we'd always looked to grandma as sort of being our mother, now we get had to get used to our real mom.
Then, about a year after our dad died, all sorts of new hassles began. Mom was in still in the prime of young womanhood and acted the part. She'd always been boy crazy, and now she was man-crazy. My sister's eyes and mine would roll as yet another man showed up at our house to spend the night. And I'd lay there in bed, listening, as mom howled out her pleasure one more time.
And now Amy and I had to contend with a mom coming to school and showing up at P.T.A. who was really young, and looked even younger. And so for me, unlike for those with really old parents who other kids figured might be their grandparents, kids thought my mom was my older sister or a baby sitter or something like that. Sometimes it felt kind of cool having such a young and attractive and sexy mother, but other times it would be embarrassing and me and my sister would squirm, having to explain to others that this sassy young fox was actually our own mother.
By the time I was a teenager it got even worse. Now I'd have to watch my buddies ogling my mom, eating her up with their eyes. When I'd be out in public with mom I knew people said to themselves, what's this woman doing going out with such a young dude, a teenager, not knowing this was my own goddamn mother taking me to the mall to buy me a pair of shoes! Or they'd think I was with an older sister. In high school that's what some guys figured, that mom was my sister, and they'd actually ask me if mom was going out with anyone, if maybe I could fix them up with her.
Mom was so great-looking too, and so sexy, that I'd have to deal with these kinds of hassles constantly. When I told them that she was my mom, and that I didn't make it a practice to fix up my pals with my own mother, they'd get all embarrassed and start apologizing and stuff. But then a minute later they'd be grinning and teasing me, asking whether with a mom like that I ever got any ideas of my own, ever fantasized about her.
And of course I did. After all, up until the time I was six I hardly even saw her, though I was aware that she my mom. So it's not like I had all those years to get used to the fact that even though she was so young and so hot-looking, that she was my own mother and that's all she was, could be, or I should even think about her being. Instead, I had to confess to myself, when I'd see men drooling over her, I knew exactly why they were reacting that way. I'd start to drool a little myself. I remember I once caught mom stepping out of a shower, all wet and naked, and the sight of her actually gave me an instant hardon!
Then at seventeen I decided to join the Service. My mom was concerned because my dad had died in a Service accident, and mom had never quite gotten over dad. He was still the love of her life. But I told her not to worry, and I also realized I needed to get away from mom. Because, though she never came on to me or anything like that, the allure of being under one roof with her became just too strong. I had even begun to feel extremely jealous when men came over and I was aware they were banging dear old mom, something I knew I couldn't do, and yet deep down in my most secret self yearned for so much.
I had been in the Service for two years and decided to quit, realizing I wasn't really cut out for a career in the military. I'd been overseas for most of that time and it had been more than a year since I'd been back and seen my sister or my mom or anyone else I knew.
"Look at you, Jimmy!" my mom said when she laid her eyes on me after my long absence. "You look like a real man now, a red-blooded man!"
Well, at nineteen, I did fill out some and I suppose those two years since I'd left home had added some measure of maturity to my appearance. Mom sure seemed to think so, looking at me with fresh eyes, it seemed. Before, though I'd sometimes glance at mom in this guilty way and entertain fantasies about her, I never once got the sense that mom ever looked at me in the same way. After all I was her son, her teenaged son. But now, as my mom carefully looked me over, there was definitely that new look in her eyes, a look I'd never seen before.
"Damn!" she said. "You've turned into one good-looking dude, baby."
"Thanks, mom," I said, not knowing what else to say.
We talked and I asked her how she'd been.
"Not too good, Jimmy," she moped. "I just split up with a guy."
I'd heard about all that from my sister. See, my mom never got over my dad, and she still had this image of him as the young, handsome Serviceman she had loved so dearly. So as she grew older and dated, she began to date men who were younger than her, much younger, as she herself grew older. That's one thing that used to make me so envious, feel so upset, to see dudes not all that much older than me getting a chance to bang dear old mom. That would irk me no end. Well, my sister told me this last dude my mom had been dating was only twenty and finally dumped mom for a foxy eighteen year he'd also been seeing. I guess mom should've prepared herself for something like that. My sister's theory was that after these young dudes get to conquer mom, they start hankering for babes their own age, with whom they have more in common. My mom is great-looking and sexy as hell, anyone could tell that at first glance. But that's not all a guy seeks when he's dating. So, Amy said, mom had just suffered one more in a string of disappointments, disappointments she was bound to keep having if she dated men who were ten or more years younger than she herself was. At thirty-four, mom was still a pretty young woman and with her youthful appearance she looked at least five years younger than she really was, but, still, she was heading for trouble, Amy figured, if she kept fishing that same old young pond for future lovers.
So now mom told me about the guy she'd been dating, they'd even lived together for a couple of months, told me all about how he finally left her for this college cheerleader, a sorority queen at the local college. Mom couldn't stand that, she said, it made her feel old.
"Maybe you should try dating older men, mom," I ventured, taking a chance giving her advice.
"I've tried, but they just don't do it for me most of the time," she said. "I guess I'm still hung up on your dad and what he was like and how old he was when he died. I guess I'm always trying to re-create those old feelings."
I really appreciated her being so open and honest with me.
"And I guess I'm just getting old," mom griped. "And trying to feel young."
"Oh come on, mom, you're not old," I told her. "You're still young and you look even younger. I'm sure you're right in your prime."
"You really think so, honey?" she asked, smiling wistfully.
"Sure," I said. "Women around your age are supposed to be at their sexual peak, aren't they?"
I'd read somewhere that women only hit their sexual prime in their thirties. If that was true, then mom really was at her peak.
"That so?" she said, loving to hear me tell her this, staring at me boldly. "I like that, Jimmy, you thinking about your mom and how she may be at her sexual prime, thinking about her as a sexual creature."
I blushed when she said this, and fidgeted. If she only knew just how long I'd been thinking of her as a sexual creature, one who was inaccessible to me, but provocative and deeply attractive nonetheless. If she only knew how, overseas in the service, I'd lay in my cot thinking about mom, picturing her, undressing her in my mind, my dick getting stiff at the thought, then beating off with wildly outrageous images of mom swirling in my head, imagining myself doing things to her. I had once walked past my mom's room and looked in to see her masturbating. I stood there, quiet as a mouse, staring at her working those fingers into her bush, legs spread wide, the heart of her femininity completely exposed to my view, to the view of her son! I'd never been able to shake that image, or wanted to. It's stayed absolutely vivid in my mind until now.
"So are you dating any guys right now, mom?" I asked.
"No, I haven't been with anyone for a couple of months, since that prick Steve went apeshit over his cheerleader bimbo and left me. I'm sure Amy's told you all about that."
Mom had correctly guessed that my sister would've filled me in on my mom's latest romantic melodrama. She'd even kept me up on my mom's romantic and erotic adventures and misadventures while I was away overseas.
"So you think I'm supposed to be at my sexual prime, huh?" mom repeated, wanting to stay on the subject.
"Yeah, that's what I figure," I said.
"Jimmy? Let me ask you a question, and answer me honestly. Do you think I'm still sexy?"
"Of course, mom," I said without hesitation. "I think you're real sexy."
Little did she know that's exactly how I'd thought of her for years now, as being an amazingly sexy woman.
"Really?" she said, breaking into a big, happy smile. "That makes me happy, a young stud like you saying that I'm sexy, even if you are my own son."
She leaned over and put a hand on my knee.
"And you're not just telling me that to make me feel good, are you?" she asked.
"No, I mean it," I told her. "Most women would kill to be as attractive and sexy as you are, mom."
Now her face positively beamed with contentment, hearing me tell her this, and saying it to her with obvious fervor.
"Well I'm glad you think I'm sexy, Jimmy, and let me tell you something else, something else I am. These days I'm horny as hell. I haven't been laid in almost two months, can you believe that? Maybe I shouldn't be telling you this. I hope you don't mind me being frank, but after you start saying how great looking and sexy I'm supposed to be, I figure I can be honest with you, right?"
"Right mom, you can tell me anything you'd like," I said, thrilled to have gained my mom's confidence like this, aroused that the topic in question was her sexuality.
"Well, you hit the nail on the head, Jimmy, when you said I'm supposed to be at my prime now, because it's true," she said. "I mean, I've always loved sex, but these days I'm really wanting it all the time. My libido's been all charged up. Young dudes, like you, they're always horny, so me and them, we make a good match. A lot of mature women like to mess around with younger guys for that reason, I'm sure you've heard that."
I could barely believe what I was hearing. My own mother -- a mother for whom I had long secretly lusted -- was now confessing to me how horny she was, how much she wanted it, needed it, wanted it with young dudes like me, is how she put it.
"But after Steve left, I swore I'd take a break from men for a while and figure out just how I wanted to approach that whole man and woman thing, you know?" she said. "I've missed it, but it hasn't been as bad as I thought, not getting any for so long. I've been masturbating a whole hell of a lot, though."
She smiled, leaning close again.
"You don't think it's too outrageous, do you?" she asked. "Your own mother confessing to you how much she's been masturbating?"
"Like I said, mom, I'm all ears, you can tell me anything you'd like," I said to her, secretly thrilled to have mom disclose this to me, thinking back to that one time I actually walked in on her beating off, remembering how excitedly she had fingered herself, how much she seemed to be loving it.
"You probably jerked off quite a bit back in Thailand, in the Philippines, when you were in the service?" she said. "When you weren't socking it to those foxy Asian babes, that is?"
She laughed lustily, teasing me.
"Yeah, mom, sometimes a guy's hand can be his best friend," I said.
"A woman's too, believe me, son," she said with a look on her face that made me think she might pull up her skirt, pull down her panties and beat off right there and then, in front of me. That sure was a sweet fantasy, but a fantasy was all it was.
"Say, Jimmy?" she said, her eye brightening. "How about you join me and we go shopping together? That's what women often like to do when they're heartbroken or not getting anything, they like to treat themselves. Now that summer's coming along I've been meaning to go down to the mall and buy myself a new swim suit. Feel like going down there with me and helping me pick one out?"
"Sure mom, I'll go with you," I said, loving the idea that I'd be helping my mother pick out a swim suit, something that would make me have to focus on her body!
So, as mom suggested, we went down to the mall together. Before we even began to look for anything for her, she insisted on getting me a few things. Again, I thought people were looking at us as though as I were her young lover or she were my older sister, never as a mother and son.
"I think these are a little too tight on me," I said, after I had come out wearing a pair of jeans I'd tried on. Mom's eyes dropped below my waist, checking out the fit of those jeans,
"Too bad, Jimmy, because they sure look great on you," she said. Looking at myself in the mirror I could see that the crotch of those jeans cupped my genitals so they really bulged. Plus they hugged my buttocks tightly too. Mom may have liked the way those jeans looked on me, and I felt flattered, but I do like to be comfortable so I decided to get a pair one size larger.
"How about a pair of swim trunks?" she asked, and we looked through that section. I picked out a pair of loose shorts, the kind I liked to wear to the beach, but my mom picked this pair of skimpy bikini swim briefs, the sort I'd see European men wear at Asian beaches when I was over there, on R & R. I never thought much of that style of swimwear for me, but mom insisted she buy me a pair along with the trunks I wanted, so I didn't argue.
"Now let's find a pair for me," she said after she paid, and we headed over to the women's swimwear department. I stood by her as she looked over several pairs, all of them very skimpy two-piece bikinis. Mom, it's appropriate to mention now, has a spectacular body. She's sleek, like a cat, but has these really big, full breasts. I remember how whenever me and my sister would go to the beach with mom, guys would constantly be laying their blankets within a few feet of us so they could gawk at mom's fabulous figure, always draped in a tight, sexy swim suit. Mom was proud of that body of hers and loved showing it off. That's another thing I was constantly exposed to. No wonder I developed a real hang up for mom's sexual allure!
"I think I like this one, I'm going to try it on," she said, picking out a string bikini which if it was any more skimpy wouldn't be anything at all! On the bottom it was no more than a patch of crotch held in place by a string, and on top I couldn't imagine how those two little sheets of fabric could ever contain mom's extra large, luscious breasts.
A minute later she came back with a smile on her face.
"Yep, this is the one," she said, "I only wish I could've come out here to show it to you, Jimmy, but I figured that would be a little risque out here in public, even if you are my son. I'll try it on for you when we get home."
My heart skipped a beat as I pictured mom showing off her new purchase to me a little later on.
We left the store and mom had us stop at what she said was her favorite lingerie store, where she picked up a couple of bras and a few pairs of panties.
"Who's the fella, Julie?" the salesgirl asked my mom.
"Oh, this is my son, Jimmy," she said. "He's just returned from overseas, he was in the service."
"Oh, I'm sorry, she said, blushing. "I didn't know."
"That's cool," I said, actually happy to be mistaken for a new flame.
"Isn't he cute?" mom said, playfully pinching my cheek, making me blush as the lingerie salesgirl looked me over. She was a prime young fox, too, and was eyeballing me as though she'd be happy to eat me up right there and then. Which is something that, under other circumstances, I would've liked very much.
"She liked you, I could tell," mom said as we drove back to her place.
"Who? Who liked me?" I asked.
"C'mon, Jimmy, don't play dumb," mom laughed. "Nikki, the chick in the lingerie store, I saw the way she was looking at you. And who could blame her."
Mom looked sideways at me.
"With you being such a handsome young man, any woman would be a fool not to lick her lips over you."
Well there must be plenty of fools out there, then, I said to myself, for I've had my share of problems getting the babes to fall all over me. It's only in the last year that I'd gotten over my shyness and had plenty of play.
At home mom couldn't wait to pull her new swim suit out of its bag.
"I'll be right back," she said, taking it to the bedroom with her. I pictured her in there, removing her clothes, getting nice and naked, then putting the bikini on, eyeing herself in the mirror before she came out to show it off.
"What do you think?" she asked, suddenly appearing in front of me.
What did I think? I hadn't seen my mother's body exposed like this in quite a few years, wearing a revealing swim suit. At thirty-four she had lost just a touch of the firmness she had when she was still in her twenties and maybe her big tits were just a tiny bit more droopy. But the body before me still could have graced the centerfold of a men's magazine and inspired hardons in men from coast to coast. The string bikini bottom covered no more than her crotch and, on top, it barely held the bottom half of her massive breasts in place, just above the nipples.
"It looks fabulous," I told her truthfully.
"I'm glad you like it, baby, I thought you would," she said. "You don't think it's too revealing?"
"I don't know about that, mom," I said. "It's hard to get more revealing than that."
"Well, you know your mother, Jimmy," she said, smiling, "She always liked to show it off, to flaunt it."
That was certainly true; mom was never especially shy about letting everyone have a good look at that terrific body of hers.
Now she slowly pirouetted so I could see the bikini on her, front and back. Turning around I stared at her sleek back side, her gorgeous, round buttocks, completely exposed, her perfect legs.
"How about you try on the one I bought you, the bikini?" she suggested taking the skimpy garment out of its bag and giving it to me. So now I went into mom's bedroom, took off my clothes and slipped on the bathing suit, what little there was of it. Looking at myself in the mirror I was reminded of the male European tourists and all those faggots who used to congregate on the hedonistic beaches of Thailand, showing it off in suits like this. Now here I was wearing exactly the same thing, which I had once sworn you'd never see me wearing. But mom obviously liked it, insisting on getting it for me, so here I was trying it on for mom.