22 comments/ 489955 views/ 86 favorites Spending My Summer Stripping My Mom By: andtheend Son spends his summers stripping and groping his drunken mother. * Twenty years ago, when I was twenty-years-old and my Mom was forty-years-old, it was the perfect storm for incest. Back then, my Mom was a single mother and I lived alone with her. The opportunity presented itself when she'd go out back to sit in the hot sun drinking. Passed out drunk, I'd take her inside. "Mom, wake up," I remember saying to her, while gently shaking her. "It's time to come in the house. You're getting red all over like a lobster." "What? Huh? Leave me alone, Jimmy. Go away," she slurred. "I'm sleeping." Jimmy was her ex-boyfriend. I'm Sam, her son. She calls me Sammy, when she's been drinking, before she gets drunk. She calls me Sam all the other times, except for when she's mad at me for something I did. Then, she calls me Samuel. She always calls me Jimmy, when she's drunk, and whenever she's drunk like this and thinking that I'm Jimmy, is when I can cop the most feels and see more of her than a son should ever feel and see of his mother. With no man to protect her, I couldn't even keep her safe from myself. Just as she trusted all the men in her life not to take advantage of her, they did anyway. Just as she trusted me not to take advantage of her, I did, too. Was there no one for her to trust, not even me? Even though I was her beloved son, her only child, I was no better than any of the lowlife men who had used, abused, and fucked her over. While plotting how to see her naked, I planned what to do when I did see her naked. While plotting how she could see me naked, I planned what to do when she did see me naked. Consumed with forbidden and inappropriate thoughts of having incestuous sex with her naked body, I couldn't help myself. With her body so hot, her short, red hair, and her big, blue eyes, she was so pretty and I was so horny. When the opportunity presented itself to see my mother naked and to touch her naked body, I was too excited and too weak not to have incestuous sex with my Mom. "Mom, come on inside," I said lifting her up and grabbing a free feel of her big boob, while lifting her and supporting her. She has great tits, C cuppers with big nipples that are all natural, none of that fake silicon shit. Every time I see that commercial, 'Got Milk', I can't help but think of sucking my Mom's tits. "Leave me alone, Jimmy. I just want to sleep." "It's okay, Mom. I have you," I said cupping her sweet ass in helping her too her feet. It took all the self-control I had not to pretend I was Jimmy. I wondered what she'd do, if I had. I wondered if she'd give me hot sex or if she'd know that I wasn't Jimmy, but her son, Sam. "Jimmy, put me down. I need a drink," she said slurring her words. I love my Mom's body. She's so drunk that she'll never remember that I copped a feel of her tits and/or her ass, while helping her in the house. She still has a flat stomach and a toned body from all the working out she did over the years, from gymnastics, to ice skating, to dancing, to swimming, to pole dancing, no one would believe her age. My favorite part of her body, believe it or not, is not her firm tits or her round ass or her trimmed pussy, but that gentle indentation by her waist that turns in before sloping out to her hips. Wow, I just love how that feels. It's so sexy. She's so sexy. When I walk with my Mom, I love resting my hand there and I think she likes it, too, because she never brushes it away. I love when she wears her bikini. She has dozens of them in every color and style. Every time she's drunk in the way she is now, I'd take her in the house and undress her. She never said anything to me the next day. I don't think she knew I undressed her and put her to bed. She was so drunk that I don't think she remembered anything. Only, wouldn't it be wild, if she knew? Wouldn't it be wild, if she got off with me stripping her, seeing her naked, and touching her? Wouldn't that be something, if she pretended that she was so drunk, that she allowed me to put the moves on her? "Nah, this is my Mom. She'd never do that. She's not like that." Before I stripped her, my favorite thing to do was to feel her through her bikini. Always, I felt her nipples through her bra respond to my touch of her tits. Before I removed her bikini, I enjoyed pretending she was in her panty and bra, instead of in her bathing suit. Sexy lingerie was more erotically exciting to pretend my Mom was wearing than swimwear. I even pretended that she was a stripper in her stripping days and I was a paying customer. I pretended she was giving me a private, sexy, striptease show, and a lap dance. I know it's wrong to lust over my Mom, but I can't help it, especially when she's like this, nearly naked and passed out drunk. "Dance for me, Mommy," I'd say to myself, when masturbating of the thoughts of her being the stripper and me the customer. I could say that it wasn't my fault. Just 20-years-old, I could say I was too young to know any better but, in the eyes of the law, I was a grown man. Back then, other than my Mom, I had never been with a woman. She kept me sheltered. She kept me for herself. She treated me as if I was a boy instead of a man. No doubt fearing that I may find a girlfriend, get married, and forsake her for another woman, she was afraid to let me go out into the world. "Stay with me Sam. There's a reason why you can't find a job. God wants you take care of your mother. Don't worry about money. I'll give you whatever you need." I needed and really wanted a car, but I was afraid to ask her for that. Definitely, I'd feel as though I was taking advantage of her, if I asked her to buy me a car. Besides, I'd rather get a job and buy my own car, but my Mom needed me. My Mom was the first woman I saw naked. My Mom was the first naked woman I touched. She was the first woman who saw me naked. She was the first woman who touched my naked body. I had sex with my Mom and I'm not proud of it. Incorrigible in my incestuous desire for her, even after twenty years, the odd thing is that, if she asked me to have sex with me again, I would. I remember watching her sleep when she was drunk and unconscious. When she's sleeping, she never awakens. I could do and have done everything and anything to her, while stripping her naked. I remember being so nervous the first time I stripped her. I was so afraid, she'd wake up. I was so afraid, she'd be mad when she woke up the next day, but she never said anything. She must have known I put her to bed. She must have known I stripped her naked and I always wondered if she knew that I had touched her, felt her everywhere. How could she not know? Back then, twenty years ago, my favorite thing to do was to strip my Mom naked and I couldn't believe that I got away with stripping her naked so many times, dozens of times. Granted, it was easy to do, when all she was wearing was a bikini and when she had too much to drink. Yet, I was so nervous stripping her that I'd think every time was the last time. Every time, I figured she'd know that I stripped her and touched, fondled her, and caressed her. I figured she'd be mad at me the next day. Every time, I figured she'd wake up and catch me doing something so forbidden and inappropriate to her drunken body, but she never did. The first time, all that I did was take off her clothes and stare at her. I remember thinking she was so beautiful and her body was so lovely. If I had one of those digital cameras, back then, that they have today, I would have taken some hot, sexy photos of her naked body, but I wouldn't have shown them to anyone. For sure, I didn't want my friends to think that me perverted because I lusted over my Mom. What would my friends think if they knew that I was stripping my Mom naked and touching her and feeling her everywhere? No one ever knew that I stripped my Mom naked. No one ever knew that I had my way with her. It was my insanely perverted secret and I shouldered all of that guilt myself for all those years. The first time I undressed her, I was so careful, so nervous, and so excited that it took me forever to strip her. I kept thinking that she'd wake up. I was so afraid that she'd catch me. What would I possibly say to her as a reason for stripping her? Gradually, the more that I stripped her, the more that I felt of her, that is, until I really took a gamble and started getting in bed with her naked. Spooning her, I used to press my naked body against hers. I used to pretend she was my girlfriend and I was her lover. I remember my cock was so hard from having our naked bodies pressed so close together. I loved rubbing my cock against my Mom's naked ass, parting her cheeks, and rubbing it against her pussy. Sometimes I jerked off, while in bed with her. I've even shot cum on her naked ass, but I always clean it up real good afterwards. How would I explain her having cum on her ass, when it's only her and me in the house? I was always so careful. I was always so nervous. I was always so excited. Incest is such a magnetic connection. Stronger than any drug on the market, incest is something that makes me feel so excited before I act on my incestuous thoughts and makes me feel so depressed after I do. Why is the connection so strong? Why must incest be so wrong? Why must I be so tortured with thoughts of wanting to see my mother naked? Why does it excite me to think about exposing my cock to her? Why must I be paralyzed with the urge to touch her and for her to touch me? What's wrong with me? What's wrong with her? Even though I know I'm not normal to have these feelings, as soon as I think about my Mom's body, I don't care about being normal or not. As if a junkie needing another fix that makes me feel oh so good before feeling oh so bad, I just want her. Why? Why? Why? I know it's deeply rooted and according to Freud, all men want to sleep with their mothers, but we're not animals living in a cave. We're rational beings living in a society that frowns on incestuous sex. With so many questions surrounding the issue, I find myself not wanting to know the answers. Maybe I'd stop using and abusing my Mom if I knew why I lusted over her. Maybe the answer is simply seeing her naked and touching her naked body feels good. Maybe the answer is simply her seeing me naked and her touching my naked body feels too good to want to stop. Maybe that's the answer in a nutshell, incest just feels good and I can't stop. Maybe I just don't want to stop. I was so horny from the touching that the touching quickly escalated to me having real sex with my sleeping mother. I started putting my cock in her unconscious hand and when I wrapped my Mom's fingers around my cock, she involuntarily squeezed my cock enough to give me sufficient pressure for me to move my hips back and forth and pretend she was giving me a hand job. The act of my cock in her sleeping hand actually felt, as if she was giving me a drunken hand job. Her hand job made me so horny that I thought I'd try something new. Taking it to the next level, I put my cock by her mouth and rubbed it along her lips, while imagining my Mom was giving me a blowjob. "Jimmy," she said with slurred speech, as soon as I touched her lips with my cock. There she goes again thinking that I'm her ex-boyfriend. Immediately, I withdrew my cock and hid it with my hand, but she was still out. If she awakened, I didn't want her to see me standing there with an erection. I remember being as nervous, as I was excited. I watched her for a few minutes to make sure she was still sleeping. I felt her tit and fingered her nipple to make sure. She was out alright. Then, I did it again. I ever so lightly rubbed my cock along my Mom's lips and she did something that surprised me. "Oh, Jimmy, baby, you're back." She parted her lips and licked the head of my cock with her tongue. Oh, my God. I couldn't believe it. My Mom licked my cock. It felt so good for her to touch my cock with her tongue. Then, she parted her lips and opened her mouth just enough for me to slide the head of my cock in her mouth. Afraid she may bite down on my cock, I couldn't believe I was partially sticking my erect cock in her sleeping mouth. The more that I stuck my cock in her mouth, the wider she opened her mouth to except more. Then, when most of my cock was in her mouth, finally, I couldn't believe I had my cock in my Mom's mouth. I couldn't believe my Mom was giving me a drunken blowjob. The sight of my cock in my mother's mouth was something I'll never forget and an image that I masturbate over, even today, so many years later. I could feel her tongue surround my cock. Then, she wrapped her fingers around my cock and stroked me, while blowing me, all the while her eyes were closed and she was still sleeping. Maybe she was having a dream about Jimmy, but whatever, who cares? My Mom was blowing me. My Mom had my cock in her mouth and was sucking me. It took all the control I had not to say, "Suck me, Mommy. Suck my cock, Mom. Blow me, Mommy." "Jimmy, I love sucking your cock," she said still with her eyes closed, as if she was dreaming. She really thinks I'm Jimmy. She thinks I'm her ex-boyfriend. "Cum in my mouth, Jimmy. Give me some of your sweet protein filled, passion juice." Oh, my God, my Mom wants me to cum in her mouth. Filled with the thought of cumming in my mother's mouth, never have I felt such excitement. With that, she was really sucking me now. My Mom was really blowing me. With her the one giving birth to me and bringing me into this world, how appropriate was it for my mother to be giving me my first blowjob? I could say that I had been the one that was used and abused, I was, and I'd be right. I could say that I was the victim, I was, and I'd be right. Only, at the time, I took full responsibility for my actions, but that still didn't stop me from trying to see her naked again and that still didn't stop me from trying to have sex with her again. Admitting that it was all my fault still didn't stop me from exposing myself to her. Promising myself that I'd never touch her again, still didn't stop me from touching her and having my way with her again and again. I wasn't thinking straight. I was confused. Possessed by the devil, I was possessed by the sexual desire I had for my Mom. Horniness and incestuous lust took over my mind. Sexual frustration and incestuous desire made me do things I'd never ordinarily do. That's my defense and I'm sticking to it. It was a time when I was just becoming a testosterone filled, horny man and my Mom was going through a tough time. Except for one another, we had no one to make us feel better. We had no one to satisfy our sexual needs. With her not working and living off her first husband's life insurance settlement, I lived out in the boondocks with her. Without a car and unable to find a job in the depressed economy then, that was no better than the depressed economy now, ripe for what happened and for what we did, we were always alone and always together. Still that was no excuse. Back then, in big red letters, I had loser written across my forehead. Yet, my Mom was always there telling me not to get a job and to stay home with her. She told me not to worry about the money. She kept giving me money for me to stay home to care of her. She didn't want to be alone. She was afraid what she'd do if she was alone. She feared another man would take advantage of her and take all her money. She asked me to protect her. Instead, I used and abused her. I was evil. I was a bad son. It was a time when we were both vulnerable. If you said we were both victims, you'd be right. If you said we were both at fault, you'd be right. This is the true story of how our incestuous relationship started and what happened to us twenty years ago, one, hot summer. It was always the same. Everything time she was drunk, two or three times a week, I'd strip her. Every time I stripped her, she thought I was Jimmy. "Fuck me, Jimmy. You're hard enough. Ram that big cock in my wet pussy," she said still with her eyes closed and slurring her words. "Fuck me baby. Fuck my pussy. Give me that big cock." My Mom reached up for me and kissed me, French kissed me. I couldn't believe it. Never had I French kissed a woman before. Never had I French kissed my mother before. Then, she pulled me down on top of her and I mounted her. With her still sleeping, with her dreaming, with her still thinking that I was Jimmy, I mounted my mother. Still with her eyes closed, I felt her hand reach down, find my cock, and direct it inside her pussy. She was wet. She was so very wet. "Fuck me, Jimmy. Fuck me, baby." Slowly at first and then more forcefully, I was fucking my Mom. My first time getting laid, it was my Mom who broke my cherry. Then, I started banging her, really pounding her body. The first time I fucked my Mom, I exploded cum in her pussy, almost as soon as my cock was inside of her. Then, with each time we made love, I stayed hard longer, until I was finally able to satisfy her, as well as myself. "Jimmy. I'm going to cum. Jimmy don't stop. Sweet Jesus, I'm going to cum baby." I love my Mom, in more ways than how a son should love his mother. I know it's not normal. I know it's not natural, but I have a thing for my Mom. I always have. I know it's wrong but I couldn't help myself then and I can't help myself now. She excites me in the way that a mother should never excite her son. She's hot. Definitely, she's a MILF, even now that she's sixty and no longer forty. Only, it'd be no fun having sex with her, unless she was a willing lover. Back then, I figured she'd never have sex with me, her own son. I was wrong. I was okay with her not wanting me in a sexual way and I kept my feelings for her in check most of the year. I didn't have those incestuous thoughts, as much about her in the fall and in the winter, as I did starting in the spring and coming to a boil during those hot, sleepless nights in the summer. As if a switch that comes on with the sunshine, my sexual thoughts for her blossomed in the spring and, in a volcano of lustful desire, they erupted in the summer. The summer is when I had the hardest time keeping my thoughts, my eyes, and my hands off my Mom and my cock out of my Mom. Even thinking about her naked now makes me horny. The thought of her on her knees and sucking my cock makes me want to masturbate. I still go to bed dreaming about making love to her and I awaken horny for her. It doesn't help that I start my day with an erection and must masturbate, for me to quell my incestuous lust for her, while thinking about having sex with my Mom. The only thoughts that get me off, when masturbating, is when I think about having sex with my Mom. Maybe it's the hormones, but it's the warmer weather that drives me mad with lustful desire for my Mom. For one thing, she wears less clothes in the summertime. Definitely a contributing factor was her showing more skin. She was never modest about her body and nudity. In her defense, I don't think she realized how much skin she was showing me. Teasing me without realizing it, I don't think she realized how showing me bits and pieces of her naked body affected me, whenever I saw something of her that I wasn't supposed to see. She used to think of me as her little boy, her little man, and she wasn't as careful in her dress and as modest around me, as she would had been with any other man. That's probably it. She never thought of me as a horny man with sexual needs and desires, but I was and still am. "You're little man, Mommy, at 20-years-old, is fully grown. Hoping you'll suck it and fuck it one day, you're little man has a big cock, Mommy. You're little man wants his Mommy, really wants his mommy bad," I'd say out loud while stroking my cock. Sorry, I only get like this, when masturbating, while thinking of having sex with my Mom. Spending My Summer Stripping My Mom Back then, she used to walk around the house topless, even naked sometimes, in front of me. I was her son, her flesh and blood. Trusting me not to wildly desire her, it was all innocent really. Still, she should have known better. Why would she do that? She was driving me mad with desire for her. Without giving it any thought, she'd change her clothes with her bedroom door open or emerge from the bathroom, after having taken a shower with just a towel over her hair. We only had the one bathroom and it wasn't unusual for me to wait outside the bathroom door for her to be done, so that I could pee. Sometimes, I'd pretend I had to pee so bad that she'd let me inside and I'd always tried to sneak a peek of her in the shower. Abruptly, she stopped exposing herself to me, when she noticed she was giving me an erection. What was she thinking? How could she not know that seeing her topless or naked would give me incestuous thoughts? Maybe that was her game to keep me there and keep me interested. Maybe she knew all along what she was doing. Maybe she was trying to drive me mad with incestuous desire for her, so that I'd stay and wouldn't stray with another woman. Maybe she was lonely, and she was, and was hoping I'd make the first move, but I never did, that is, unless she was drunk and sleeping and I was stripping her. Maybe it was her plan to seduce me, all along, but I never saw it that way. She was my Mom, my Mommy, and I always blamed myself for trying to see what I wasn't suppose to see and trying to touch what I wasn't supposed to touch. I felt even worse when I exposed my cock to her hoping that she'd touch me in a way that no mother should ever touch her son. Always feeling guilty for my inappropriate thoughts and my bad behavior in wanting my mother the way I did, I was wrong for acting out my thoughts and making my sexual urges a reality. Thinking of her as the innocent victim, thinking of her as my Mom, and thinking of me as the bad son, I was the perverted one and not her. She was my Mom. She was always the innocent one. I was the one taking advantage of her. I couldn't help myself. I needed to see her naked. I needed to touch her. I needed for her to see me naked. I needed for her to touch me. Then, when I did see her naked and felt her naked body, I felt so guilty and dirty inside. Yet, those bad feelings never stopped me from needing to see her naked and needing to touch her again. When she stopped walking around the house topless or naked, I remember feeling disappointed. I felt guilty wondering if I was the reason why she felt uncomfortable being topless or naked around me. Suddenly, I felt cheated out of seeing the semi-nude and nude show of her that I needed to see to stroke away my incestuous excitement of her four times a day. She started walking around in her housecoat, instead. She didn't wear anything underneath, no panty and no bra, and always two of her buttons were undone, one by her breast and one by her crotch. I was so naive. In my innocence I figured, since she had big tits, that she needed to unbutton the button by her breasts because the housecoat was too tight otherwise. I figured she needed to unbutton the button by her crotch to give her enough room to sit. What did I know? I never would have suspected that she was trying to flash me her pussy and tits, but she was. Always looking, always staring, and leering at her, every time she sat, I was treated to side flashes of her trimmed, red pussy. Every time she stood, I saw the side of her breast. When she moved about our small house, especially stretching to reach for something or leaning down to pick up something, I was treated to continual flashes of her pubic hair and nipples. Being flashed in that way, to see bits and pieces of her through the unbuttoned buttons of her housecoat, rather than seeing her totally naked, was so much more erotic. I constantly masturbated over all that I saw of her. It was a vicious cycle. The more I saw of her body, the more I masturbated. The more I masturbated, the more I wanted to see. My incestuous lust for her was never ending and all consuming. I tried not to make it appear so obvious that I was looking, but I was and she caught me a few times. Whenever she caught me, she'd button her buttons. Yet, the next day, when she wore that same housecoat or a different one, those same two buttons were unbuttoned. It excited me to know she was going to spend the day flashing me her pussy and tits again. I was so crazy with lust for her that I remember even removing those two buttons on one of her housecoats, so that, if she caught me looking, she couldn't button them again. Once, when her housecoat was hanging up behind the bathroom door, after suspecting her of purposely flashing me, I remember checking the buttons to see if they'd come undone on their own. Unable to prove or disprove my suspicions of her purposely flashing me, the buttons were lose alright. Yet, were they already loose like that or did she loosen them by wiggling them and/or by stretching the buttonhole, so that they'd always unbutton on their own? Any time she walked by the living room windows in the early morning, the sun would light her up, as if she was on fire. I could see through her housecoat and see her curvaceous body, as if she was naked. Every time she leaned in the refrigerator with the kitchen light off or stood in front of the television at night, I could see the naked outline of her through her housecoat. Always horny, insane with incestuous thoughts for my Mom, I was always looking to see what I could use later, while masturbating over the thoughts of touching her and of her sucking my cock. She always showed more when she was drinking, especially when she was drunk. Happy to oblige, she'd ask me to make her a drink and I always made it a double. Then, once she had a couple of drinks, while watching TV and snuggling together with her on the couch, I used to cop feels of her body by hugging her and tickling her. A dangerous game of incest, it was an erotic game that I played with her to satisfy my need to see more of her, while touching her. Each time I tickled her, each time, I cuddled with her, gradually, I'd raise the hem of her housecoat just a little higher. Most times she never noticed. Most times, she never fluffed it back down and I'd rest my head on her naked thigh, while watching TV. When her housecoat was raised high enough, knowing she never wore panties beneath her housecoat, any time I turned my head to her, I had the perfect, unobstructed view between her legs. Then, when she'd fall asleep is when I'd raise her housecoat even higher to expose her pussy or unbutton a strategic button to see more of her tits. Afraid to touch her for fear of awakening her, I just stared and jerked off later over all that I saw of her. It was innocent, I made myself believe, a son tickling his mother, only I wasn't so innocent. I was 20-years-old, a grown man. Always, in tickling her, making it appear accidental, I made sure that I saw as much of her as I could and felt as much of her tits as I could without arousing her suspicion but enough to sexually arouse me. I knew she'd never accuse me of trying to grope her. I was her son. She trusted me not to take advantage of her, but I did; I always did. I was never blatant about my intention, but I always managed to feel enough of her to give me a sense of her breasts. After our game of tickling ended, I'd go back to my room and play with myself, while thinking of touching my mother and thinking what I'd do next. Always, when masturbating over her, I'd remember back and think about her topless and/or walking around the house naked. I was such a horny dork back then. Nothing has changed. I still am. Yet, I always wondered if she knew I was trying to feel her body. Seriously, how could she not know? What I didn't feel of her with my fingers and hand, I felt of her with my forearms, shoulder, and ribs. It's funny how guys can feel nearly every part of a woman's body with nearly any part of their body. I always wondered if she knew I jerked off over the thoughts of touching her, when I did feel and see something that I shouldn't have seen or felt. The walls in our house are paper thin, she must have heard me playing with my cock and cumming? I always wondered if she enjoyed me touching her, as much as I enjoyed touching her. She never wore nightgowns, just those damn housecoats. Definitely, I may have seen more if she had worn a sheer nightgown but with my luck, she'd wear a bathrobe over it. Now, that I think about it, maybe that's why she only wore housecoats, so that she could flash me more of her body without me suspecting that she was flashing me. In the summertime, she slept naked and she'd leave her bedroom door open for the cross breeze. Pretending I had to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night, I was always sneaking down the hallway trying to steal peeks of her naked body, but it was always too dark to see clearly. By the time it was light enough to see, she was already up and downstairs having coffee. After a while, I thought, two can play this game. When we sat on the couch watching television I always wore my pajama bottoms and a tee shirt. I removed my underwear on the chance that my Mom would inadvertently touch or accidentally grab my cock, whenever she returned my tickles. A few times, when she reached to tickle my upper thighs or my lower waist, she did accidentally touched me and immediately I had an erection from her brief touch. Wanting her to see my cock, I always hoped my cock would pop out of my pajama pee hole and, a couple of times, it did. With the thoughts of masturbating over it later, I wanted to see her reaction but she didn't notice or pretended not to notice my exposed cock. If she did notice it, she never mentioned that she had nor did I ever mention when I saw something of her that I shouldn't have seen. Not wanting to ruin the show, I thought it best to pretend I didn't see anything of her either. She never stared, in the way that I stared at her, whenever I saw something of her that a son should never see of his mother. Whenever my cock was so exposed, I was hoping she'd grab it, stroke it, and suck it, but she never did. After seeing so much of my Mom over the years, it was my turn to play her incestuous game of teasing. I started leaving my bedroom door open when changing my clothes. I started walking out of the bathroom, after having taken a shower with just a towel drying my hair. I started flashing her my cock, whenever I thought I could get away with it without it looking like I was doing it on purpose and looking like the pervert that I was. A few times, I caught her looking at my cock. A few times I caught her staring at my erection. Sometimes, when she was in a playful mood and especially if she had been drinking, she'd slap my naked ass and/or chase me back in my room tickling me, while I was still naked. I'd fall back on the bed and pull her with me. We'd briefly wrestle, until she got up and left my room closing my door. She made me so horny. One morning, I woke up with a huge erection. I was so horny. My Mom was already up reading the paper and having her coffee, her routine. I went downstairs with my cock poking straight out through my pee hole. I was so nervous. I was so excited. With my incestuous lust for her boiling over, insane with my desire for her, I was determined for her to see my cock up close, so that I could masturbate later over her reaction to seeing it. Her back was to me, when I walked in the kitchen. I grabbed a cup and poured myself some coffee. My routine was to ask her if she wanted a second cup of coffee and I did. "Are you ready for your second cup, Mom." With my back turned to her, I looked over at her and watched her look down at her empty cup. "Sure, Sam," she said pushing her cup out a few inches from her. When I walked to her to pour her more coffee, my cock was staring her straight in the face. It couldn't be any closer to her mouth. If I had put a hand to the back of her head, it wouldn't be a stretch for me to imagine her taking me in her mouth and blowing me. "Sammy, you're all exposed," she said with a laugh. "Put that thing away," she said flipping at it with her fingertips. "Sorry, Mom," I said taking my time putting down the coffeepot on the table, while she continued staring at my exposed cock. I masturbated over her seeing and touching my cock for years. "Jimmy always had morning wood," she said watching me stuffing my cock back in my pajama bottoms. "Eww, Mom. I really don't want to hear about your ex-boyfriend's morning wood. Okay?" Maybe I was jealous that Jimmy had hot sex with my Mom. I heard them sometimes, when they thought I was sleeping. She was always blowing Jimmy and I always masturbated over the sound of them, while wishing it was me she was blowing. I remember her always hanging out by the pool in her bikini. She was so beautiful. She was so hot. Back then, twenty years ago, she had an incredible ass and still does, an ass that any twenty-year-old woman would love to have. She used to do yoga, but she stopped all that when her boyfriend left her. Whenever she did yoga, I'd watch her. Showing her nipples, ass crack, and pussy slit, she'd wear those skintight leotards that were so revealing that I couldn't help but imagine her naked body. I remember always telling her she didn't look her age, but she never believed me. She thought I was just saying that to make her feel better because I was her son. She had just turned the big four-Oh and was depressed, which explained why there was always an empty wine bottle beside her chaise lounge. She never used to drink, but she drank a lot back then. Her drinking started when her boyfriend dumped her for a younger woman, a 22-year-old slut of a woman, when he was 44-year-old, the pig. I remember liking her when she drank. She was fun and funny in an endearing sort of way. Other than having the opportunity to strip her naked and to see and feel her naked body, I never liked her when she was drunk, though. When she laid out in the hot sun drinking, she allowed me to put sunscreen on her and I'd take advantage of her by touching her where no son should touch his mother. Only, the more I touched of her, the more I wanted to touch her, and the more I masturbated over what I felt of her. I remember always wishing she'd touch me but, except for giving me hugs and kisses on the cheek, you know, Mom stuff, she never did. I never met my Dad. He took off the day she told him she was pregnant. After I was born, because she was blessed with a great body, she used to strip at the club to make money but, as we both grew older, she stopped stripping. The men who frequented those clubs wanted younger women. So, she took a respectable office job, as a secretary, after she graduated from night school to train to use a computer and to learn how to type. Shortly after she took the job as a secretary, she married her boss, but he was killed in a car accident on the way home from working late one night. Having had the foresight to take out a hefty insurance policy, he left her a pile of dough and she received more money, when she sold his business. She wasn't rich by any measure, but she didn't have to work again, unless she wanted. Yet, to me, even though, she's sixty-years-old now, she still looks hot. She doesn't look her age. She looks ten years younger and if I saw her on the street and didn't know how old she was, I'd think she was forty-something. If I saw her in a club, I'd hit on her. She still looks good. I remember back then, seeing some naked photos of her that she sent to a few guys on some online dating site. She never knew that I had the password to her e-mail account. She'd kill me, if she knew that I had invaded her privacy by reading her e-mails. She'd kill me, if she knew I had jerked off over her naked photos. She'd think she failed me somehow. She'd think that she made me into the pervert that she said my Dad was. Even though I spied on my Mom hoping to see what I shouldn't have seen, even though I touched my Mom where no son should have been allowed to touch his mother, and even though I jerked off over my Mom, I never thought of myself as a pervert, not really. I was just so horny back then and we were always alone and together. Without doubt, it was the age and the hormones with all those testosterones surging through my body that made me insane with incestuous lust and sexual desire for my mom. I remember always having to collect her, before she got too much sun. Light skinned and easily sunburned, she was a redhead and had a lot of freckles. I didn't want her to burn. I didn't want her to get sun damage and cancer. Even though I took sexual advantage of my Mom, I took care of her, especially when she was going through her bad time. I loved her. Then, one day, while I was making love to my Mom, as soon as she started to cum, she opened her eyes and let out a scream. "Samuel! Get off me!" Only, I couldn't. I had gone this far and I couldn't be denied. "Mom, I love you," I said trying to kiss her again with my cock still buried in her pussy. She turned her away and tried to push me off of her. "Samuel! Get off me!" "Fuck me Mommy. Fuck me. Pretend I'm Jimmy. I don't care. Just fuck me." "Samuel! No! This is wrong. Get off me now," she said as her voice faded and she started getting sexually excited again. "Kiss me, Mommy." She wouldn't kiss me, but I turned her chin and planted one on her. Then, she wouldn't give me her tongue, but I forced my tongue in her mouth. We were kissing, French kissing now. We kissed again and again, as we fucked. Then, it happened. She had an orgasm and another one, before I exploded all that I had in her pussy. Finally, it was over. I had my way with my mother. She gave me a drunken hand job and an unconscious blowjob and then, she fucked me silly, until we both were satisfied. "This can never happen again," she said sitting up and trying to get up off the bed. Now that I finally had her with her eyes open, I was so hot for her. I pulled her back down and started sucking her nipples. She started slapping at me, but then she wrapped her hand around the back of my head and pulled me closer. Then, we kissed again. I pushed down on her shoulder and she took my hint. She started blowing me again. My Mom was really sucking my cock, this time. I so wanted to cum in her mouth. I needed to know what that felt like to cum in my mother's mouth and then, I did. Oh, my God, I had so much cum. Where did all that cum come from? When I shot my load in my mother's mouth, it startled her and she briefly pulled away, until I put a hand to the back of her head and fucked her mouth. There was no way that I was going this far and not cumming off in my mother's mouth. I wouldn't let go of her, until she swallowed me and she did. Having sex with my Mom, my summer lovin', if you want to call it that, had a positive effect on my Mom. She cleaned up her act. She stopped drinking and our relationship changed from incestuous to loving. I got girlfriend, became engaged, and then got married. Only, something very strange happened. Now that I have another woman in my life, now that I no longer live with my mother and we live apart, and now that I no longer want my Mom in the way that I did before, she became insanely jealous. "Listen, Sam, I don't care if have a relationship with your wife, but you must take care of me, too." What? Is she serious? I couldn't believe my Mom was giving me a sexual ultimatum. "What do you mean, Mom?" Excited, embarrassed, and definitely uncomfortable at the same time, I had so many raw feeling and pure emotions. I'll always love my Mom and I still had sexually feelings for her, especially when I was horny, when my wife wasn't putting out from not being in the mood or when having her period. Whenever and whatever her excuse not to take care of my sexual needs, my thoughts always turned to my Mom and I'd start masturbating over the thoughts of having incestuous sex with my Mom again. Spending My Summer Stripping My Mom "I miss you stripping me." Suddenly the thoughts of all the times I pretended my Mom was in her panty and bra instead of her bikini and I removed her swimsuit flooded my brain with horniness for my Mom. "You knew I used to strip you?" If she knew I stripped her, what else did she know? Did she knew that I got naked and climbed in bed with her, while touching her everywhere? "Of course, I knew. Most times, I pretended I was drunk, so that you'd touch me, after you stripped me." Oh, my God. Now, knowing that my mother knew all that I had done, I could feel my cock stiffen with the thoughts of inappropriately touching my Mom again. "Mom, I'm sorry. I was so horny then." I felt like such a total pervert, a real degenerate. "Don't be sorry. I was horny, too. So, now, unless you want me to tell your wife what you did, once a week, I want you to continue stripping me. Think of it as a game. You come into my bedroom and when you see me passed out and pretending that I'm drunk, you undress me. Then, you touch me everywhere. I'll pretend that I think you're Jimmy and you force me to touch your cock and blow you, before you fuck me. Okay?" I was shocked. My Mom knew everything. All this time, my Mom wanted me, as much as I wanted her. "Mom, I can't." Even though I said I can't, I wanted to continue our secret incestuous sex. My Mom still looked good for her age, better than most Mom's her age. She had returned to doing Yoga and had taken up Pilates exercising and swimming. She still had her hot body. "You'd better because if you don't give me what I want and what I need, I'll tell your wife that you raped me and forced me to have sex with you, whenever I was so depressed that I got drunk." Every summer for the next twenty years, when my Mom came to visit me and her grandchildren, all through my marriage, my Mom and I had an incestuous sexual relationship. We were okay the rest of the year. It was the summer time that we were mad for one another. No one knew about it. No one even suspected that I was having sex with my mother. Finally, done with her, swearing myself off her, I was so happy when she found a boyfriend. I thought having to strip and have sex with my Mom was finally over, but we continued our weekly stripping session through every summer she was with her boyfriend, who later became her husband. Just as my wife never found out about us having incestuous sex, her new husband never did either and it still continues this summer. I think until the day she dies, I'll be spending my summers stripping my Mom, but that's okay. I love my mother.