18 comments/ 164013 views/ 31 favorites Mom Strips Naked for Nude Day Ch. 02 By: SusanJillParker Chapter Two - Swallowing it all, Hook, Line, and Sinker, Mom Takes the Bait "About me? Why suddenly now are you having problems writing about me," she said looking at him with disbelief, before looking down at his book filled with erotic stories about her, "when you never have before?" "Now don't get mad and don't take this the wrong way," he looked at her, while waiting for her to give him a nod of affirmation and when she did, he continued. "But I've been trying to write about you naked and I just can't," said Jason trying to control the sexual excitement that he suddenly felt by the thoughts of agreeing to strip naked and her sitting in his room and on his bed naked. Had he stuck a pin in her, he wouldn't have gotten more of a reaction. Had he torn her cross from the wall and the thrown the picture of Jesus with his Apostles at his Last Supper in the trash, he wouldn't have received an angrier stare. Had he ripped open her blouse, which he so wanted to do, he'd never evoke such a disgusted look. "Don't get mad? Don't take it the wrong way? How can I not get mad and take that the wrong way, when my perverted son is stuck trying to imagine me naked, while writing a story about me, his mother, naked? Oh, boohoo. That's just too damn bad you can't imagine me naked. Newsflash, Jason, you're not supposed to imagine your mother naked," she said lecturing him in the way that she always did. When she acts like that, so confident in herself and so angry at the world, is when he's attracted to her the most. Filled with opinions and ideas, his mother is a real woman and not some empty headed, cute, little ass or a blonde piece of fluff, that he dated in the past. Obviously, none of his prior girlfriends measured up to Mommy. None of his girlfriends could fill her size 7 shoes. "All that I've written so far for this story is garbage," he said continuing in hopes of trying to explain the difficulty that he was having in trying to write her nude character with the hopes that she'd take pity on him and strip naked. "Garbage in is garbage out, Jason," she said with a satisfied motherly look. "Writing incestuous stories about your mother is garbage from the start. Trying to imagine me naked is fruitless. You will never see me naked," she said wrapping her arms tighter around herself and crossing her legs to make herself look like a pretzel. "It isn't believable," said Jason ignoring his mother's comment and persevering, in spite of her negative opinion of his creative work, albeit incestuous writing, along with his hint of wanting to see her naked. "My writing, suddenly, about you is all forced. For the first time in more than 3 years, I may not have a story to enter in the National Nude Day contest and if I don't enter a story, I won't have a chance to win any money. Moreover, I'll lose all my fans." She looked at him unflustered by him wanting to see her naked and about him not winning any money, that is, until he mentioned fans. As if his writing became realer because there were readers, she softened. "Fans? What fans? You have fans?" She looked at him with a face full of surprise that her son would have fans reading his stories about her. A flash of sexual excitement crossed her face, before she returned to being his mother. "Yes. Mostly older men, of course, but tens of thousands of people from all around the country and all around the world, United Kingdom, Australia, Japan, China, India, Germany, France, Spain, and the Netherlands write comments and e-mail me about my stories and about you, Mommy." "They write to you about me, your mother, having sex with you, my son, and about you, my son, having sex with me, your mother?" "Yes, Mommy, they do. They love my stories. They love your character. They think you're hot," said Jason feeling his cock twinge and so wanting to tell his mother that he thinks that she's hot, too. "I even receive comments and e-mails from some women, too, who have a secret desire to have sex with their sons." "Gross," she said making a sour face, as if having just bitten a lemon. "I don't know how a mother could ever have sex with her son. That's just so perverse." "Just because it's a son's sexual fantasy to have sex with his mother or a mother's sexual fantasy to have sex with her son, doesn't mean that either will go through with it. Incest is just a sexual fantasy for most, more for some and less for others. Just reading about the possibility of having sex with your mother or with your son is stimulating enough for most people to masturbate over the thought of having incestuous sex," said Jason suddenly wondering if his mother masturbates and if she does, what arouses her enough for her to masturbate. "So, that's what these stories are? In addition to being a sexual fantasy, writing about me naked is fodder for your masturbation? My son writes masturbation stories about me being naked? That knowledge makes me sick to my stomach." "You could look at it that way, mother but, truly, they are just stories to me," said Jason having a hard time letting go of the image of his mother lying on her bed with her legs spread, while she masturbated herself over having sex with him. Who knows? Maybe she's being so resistive to his stories of incest because he struck a familiar chord. Maybe she's just as attracted to him, as he's attracted to her. Only, being his mother, she had to show more restraint. Being his mother, unable to run wilde, she must set an example. Being his mother, she can't force her son to have sex with her in the way that he'd like to force his mother to have sex with him. "Then, I don't understand how imagining me naked, while stripping for Nude Day, should be a problem for you, when you've already written so very many stories about me naked," she said with her face flushing red. "You've imagined me undressing, you've imagined me masturbating, you've imagined me taking a bath, giving you a blowjob, taking me to your prom and to your bed, and having sex with my naked, drunken body," she said breathlessly, as if his hot bedroom and/or his stories were beginning to get to her. "What more is there possibly to imagine that you haven't already imagined?" "It's not at all like that, Mom. My stories are not just about incestuous sex. My stories are about real people, people who aren't incestuous perverts, but people who come together at a time, when they need love the most." "Your stories are filthy pornography," she said pointing a finger of shame at him, as if her next line was going to be that he'd burn in Hell for all that he's written about her. "Love has nothing to do with your stories. Sex, sex, sex, your stories all about sex, forbidden sex, and incestuous sex." "My stories are real stories with a beginning, a middle, and an ending," said Jason ignoring his mother's comments and persevering in defense of his stories. "All of my stories have a plausible plot, tension, dialogue, imagery, description, and character development. Any time I write about having sex with you," he said looking at her, as if imagining having sex with her, "it's always written in a loving way and not in a crass or pornographic way. Any time I write about having sex with you, it's more about love than it is about sex." "I don't care how lovingly you think you write your story, the fact that you're writing about having sex with your mother cannot disguise the fact that you're writing about incest. You can put a leash on any animal, but only a dog is a dog, and your stories are trash, no matter how you present them," she said looking smugly satisfied with herself for voicing her opinion in such an articulate and metaphoric way. "I write stories that are believable and stories that could happen between any mother and son, under the right circumstances. In all of my stories, always there's a reason why a mother and son come together, be it for love, comfort, sex, or something else, a tragedy or even a death in the family, no matter what their relationship, mother/son, father/daughter, or brother/sister, we're all humans. We all have needs sexual or otherwise." He watched her unfold her arms and uncross her legs. Was she softening? Has he worn her down and won her over, just a little bit? He didn't know. Not able to be in the head of his mother, not able to know what she was thinking and feeling, sometimes, she was so hard to read. "I did noticed that about your stories, many of them are about real life issues and about real people," she said distinctly softening. "Thank you for noticing, mother." As if they were having a conversation about something else, other than incest, she dropped the tension she had in her shoulders and gave him a soft smile. Then, she fell silent for a moment, while looking at him and he wondered what she was thinking. "After having read all of your stories, regardless of the vile material, you have an innate ability to tell a good story. Even though the subject matter is so grossly disgusting to me, I can still read beyond that to know that you're a good writer, Jason. Nonetheless the quality of the story and feeling so uncomfortably violated, while reading it, the fact that you've chosen to write stories about me having sex with you is not only abnormal but also disgustingly disturbing Jason," she said, pulling her blouse tighter around her neck to deny her son a down blouse peek of her abundant cleavage and bra, should he be looking. Watching her body language express what he hoped she was feeling, but saddened by what she was obviously now feeling, he could tell just by looking at her that she suddenly felt so very embarrassed by their topic of conversation. No doubt, by all that she must have inadvertently shown her son of her body over the years, and all that he saw of her by what he wrote and what she read in his stories, either she was totally mortified or sexually aroused. Was her face flushed from embarrassment or desire, he couldn't tell which? Nonetheless, how she felt, she now knew that he's always looking, while hoping to see whatever he could see of her panty and/or her bra, her pussy, and/or her breast. Regaining her stiffness, she sat like the lady she is. After reading his stories, even though he unsuccessfully tried to convince her otherwise, that his stories were only stories and nothing more, she now knew that he was sexually attracted to her. He wondered how long she could maintain that uncomfortable posture around the house of always making sure she was modestly covered, before slipping to be more comfortably relaxed in her own home and walking around in her flimsy nightgown and bath towel, in the way that she used to do in front of him. Surely, just as she couldn't always keep her hand up to her throat to deny him a down blouse view, she couldn't always keep her knees tightly closed to forever deny him an up skirt view, too. Only, seeing what he shouldn't see of his mother would be more fun, if she wanted him to see more of her, too. "I'm sorry, Mom, but I can't help myself from writing about you. I can't help myself from being attracted to you. Look at you, you're gorgeous," he said taking his compliment and the fact that she found out his secret, as his opportunity to stare at his mother. As is his compliment was her light switch, she lit up and became more animated. He couldn't believe the immediate transformation in her. Just by a few complimentary words, it was as if he stroked her. It was then that he realized how lonely his mother was for affection and needy for attention. "Thank you, Jason," she said gushing. "But you realize, of course, that I'm your mother and incest is a line you we can never cross with me. You can never have sex with me, your mother, Jason. That's just wrong. That's just nasty," she said shaking her head, while folding her arms tightly around her body again, as if she was cold or, more probable, as if she was protecting herself from him. Obviously satisfied that she had told her son what she needed to tell him, in the way she was telling him, she spoke to him without scolding him, as if she was politely telling to him to pick up his room. Only, Jason stopped listening to what she had to say, after she said that she had read all of his stories. A sexual fantasy come true, always wishing he could share his sexy stories with her, he couldn't believe she read not just one or two, but all of his stories. Now that she had read them all, he wondered if she had a favorite. "You read all my stories?" "Yes. I forced myself to read them," she said straightening her posture, as if sitting in a church pew and looking over the sinners with abject superiority. "I needed to know just how mentally disturbed you are, so that I could speak to the psychiatrist with some knowledge of your state of mind," she said making eye contact with him but breaking the eye contact, as soon as she started talking about his stories. "I'm not crazy, Mother," said Jason taking offense. "We'll seek a professional opinion to determine that, Jason. Nonetheless and whatever your state of mind, by reading your stories, I was hoping to gain more insight of your mental illness and talk intelligently about the planned therapy for your condition created by your sexual attraction and incestuous attachment to me, your mother," she said so coldly, as if she was a psychiatric nurse. "Mom, you're making a mistake. I don't need therapy," he said. "You realize, of course," she said ignoring his plea by talking over him, "that's there's a possibility that you may have to be institutionalized and/or be drugged, should the doctor's therapy not work on you to remove the abnormal and immoral sexual feelings that you have towards me," she said without any emotion that he wondered what in the Hell she was thinking for her to say of that to him. "Institutionalized? Drugged? I'm not insane, Mother. Just because I fantasize about incestuous sex, just because I write stories about incest, and just because I write incestuous stories that are about you, doesn't make me crazy," he said looking at her with frustration in trying to make her understand that, as much as he was sexually attracted to her, he was also a creative writer of fiction. Truly, just as he sometimes forced himself to believe and wanted her to believe, that they were just stories, he knew differently. He knew that every story he wrote, he wished he could realize. Every story he wrote about his mother made him want her even more. "Obviously, Jason, you write stories about incest and use me in your stories because you want to have sex with me," she said looking at him with detachment, while pausing, as if expecting him to answer her in the affirmative. "Dr. Sigmund Freud would have a party in analyzing you," she said with a snide laugh. "Not only thinking about but also writing about us having sex is twisted and wrong. I can't even imagine how your mind works, which is why you must be observed by a professional in a controlled setting." Jason looked at his mother without speaking. He was graduating college next year and with a possible job opportunity already lined up in addition to the courses he was taking through the summer, he didn't have time for therapy. He realized now that he had misread his mother. Foolishly, he had hoped she'd be so flattered that he was writing about her that she'd willingly strip off her clothes for him to write a better story. Tempted to come clean months ago, he imagined his mother embracing his writing and embracing him naked, while in bed and having sex with him. He imagined him reading his stories to her. Only, he was wrong. How could he be so wrong about her? Maybe he is insane. Maybe writing mother and son incestuous stories is wrong, after all. Maybe he does need to talk to a psychiatrist. Suddenly, much like Alex, played by Malcolm McDowell, in Clockwork Orange, he imagined himself medicated and locked away in a padded cell and under constant supervision, while he still masturbated over the thoughts of having incestuous sex with his mother and crying out, 'I love you, Mommy!' Everything would be wonderful, if only his stories had excited her in the way that his stories had excited him and so many of his readers. Everything would be wonderful, if only she was sitting there naked and sexually aroused, after reading his stories, when he walked in his room. He imagined his mother naked and masturbating, while reading his stories. He imagined his mother attacking him, tearing off his clothes, and having sex with him. If only his visions were more than just his imagination. He'd be so very happy to know that his mother wanted to have sex with him, as much as he wanted to have sex with her. If only his stories had made her horny in the way they made him and so very many others horny, he'd finally experience his sexual fantasy of having sex with his mother. If only, she'd agree to have sex with him, finally inspired, he'd have an entire library of mother and son incest stories to write. If only his stories had made her sexually want him, in the way that his stories made him sexually want her, his life would be complete. Obviously now, abandoning all hope of ever having sex with his mother and of ever seeing her naked, none of what he wrote will ever happen. Instantly, he lost interest in writing another incestuous story again. Instead, now ashamed of himself and embarrassed by all that he's written about her, a real reality check, she threatened to expose him to others by bringing him to a psychiatrist for psychiatric help. How can incest, something that makes him feel so good and so sexually excited to write and read about, be so wrong? He didn't understand. He'll never understand, even if the doctor was to give him medication and electric shock therapy, if that's what they still did anymore, they'd never stop him from writing and reading about incest, while thinking about and masturbating over having sex with his mother. Granted, even though he wanted to have sex with his mother, it wasn't as if he was acting upon his desire to have sex with his mother, by forcing his mother to have sex with him. He was only writing and reading about having sex with his mother. If anything, he deemed writing and reading about having sex with his mother, as a healthy alternative to actually having sex with his mother. Now, instead of her embracing his writing, instead of him continuing to find pleasure in writing and reading about having sex with her, he was deemed mentally disturbed by her. He looked at his mother sitting there so shapely, so sexy, and so pretty, albeit so prim, so proper, and so uptight. He smiled at the image that flashed through his mind of her sitting there naked, while still acting so prim, so proper, and so uptight. In the way of Harry Potter exacting a spell, if only he possessed a magic wand that made his mother naked and made his mother want him sexually. If only he could hypnotize her into not only removing all her clothes but also willingly want to have sex with him. If only incest was an acceptable form of sexual contact between relatives, especially mother and son, he'd be so happy. Even with her looking at him with horror, as if he was perversely deranged, for sure, he'd do her, if he could. She was so hot. She was so sexy. She was so pretty. She was his idea of a real MILF and he loved her not in the way that a son loves his mother but in the way that a man loves a woman. Looking at her sitting there so stiff, as if she was constipated, undressing her with his eyes, desperately trying to envision her without her clothes, instead of being relegated to only imagine, he couldn't help but wonder what she looked like naked. Tired of imagining her naked, he'd give anything to finally see her naked. 'Take off your clothes, Mommy,' he imagined saying to her. 'Now jump up and down, Mommy. I just want to see something. I just want to see you naked. I just want to see your big tits bouncing up and down and side to side, while you're naked.' Instead, unable to truly see her without her clothes, he focused more on his incestuous stories. Mom Strips Naked for Nude Day Ch. 02 To be continued... Mom Strips Naked for Nude Day Ch. 03 Chapter Three - Do You Have a Favorite? "Do you have a favorite?" "Do I have a favorite what?" She looked at him with disgust, as if she'd been asked her favorite sexual position. It was a look he had never seen from her before, unless she was talking about her neighbor, Vicky, who had been married and divorced three times and who had slept with many of the neighborhood's married men. Now he wondered if she did not only have a favorite incestuous story but also a favorite sexual position. No doubt, his naked mother's favorite sexual position for him, would be with his mother her on knees looking up at him with his stiff cock buried in her mouth, while he played with her tits and fingered her nipples. "Do you have a favorite story?" As if a fast forward movie, Jason's stories ran through his mind. He thought of his story, Mom Catches Me Masturbating Over Her Panties, while remembering all the times he masturbated, while holding and sniffing her worn panties. When thinking of another one of his favorite stories, My Drunken Mother Forces Me to Have Sex with Her, he imagined her coming home drunk with him having to undress her for bed, while feeling and touching her everywhere. The imagined images of his story, Videotaping My Mother Undressing, ran through his mind, while the companion story to that, Watching My Mom Masturbating, stirred his cock to an erection. Then, he thought of his story, Helping My Mother Take a Bath. Rub-a-dub-dub, he'd love to wash her big tits in the bath tub. Taking my Mom to my Prom and to my Bed was always one of his favorites, where he imagined making out with his mother in the backseat of a car, before he thought of another one of his favorite stories, Mom Gives Me a Birthday Blowjob. Alas, the thought of his new, unfinished story, Mom Strips Naked for Nude Day, made his heart ache and his cock throb. "Jason! I'm your mother," she said interrupting his remembered compilation of his incestuous stories about her. He looked at her and she appeared embarrassed. Yet, he wondered, was she embarrassed by his question or by what she felt, while reading all his stories and by thinking about which story was her favorite. "It's just a story, Mom and it's just a question," he said with a shrug. "Just a story? Just a question? You wrote explicitly sexual, dirty stories about me, your mother, and then you have the audacity to ask me if I have a favorite, incestuous story about me having sex with you, my son. How dare you? What's wrong with you? Have I lost you to the Devil?" Knowing her in the way that he did and in the way that only a son could know his mother, she was complaining too much. With much in common genetically, he wondered what else they had in common. Wouldn't it be funny, if his mother was as titillated by reading his incestuous stories, as he was writing his incestuous stories? Wouldn't it be sexually exciting, if his mother thought about bedding him, as much as he thought about bedding her? Wouldn't it be ideal, if his mother masturbated over him, as much as he masturbated over her. Maybe she feels and stiffs his underwear, before putting them in the wash. Maybe she licks and sucks his cum stains in the way that he licks and sucks her panties and in the way that she'd like to lick and suck his cock. "Sorry, Mom," said Jason returning back to reality and looking at his mother with a sudden renewed insightfulness, while keeping in mind that she read all of his stories. "I don't know what else to say to you, other than I'm very disappointed in you," she said, her way of always making him feel guilty. Nonetheless, no matter what she said to shame him, he still couldn't believe that she read all of his stories. If she was so offended by all that he wrote, if she was so grossed out by incest, why would she read all of his stories? He couldn't believe he was about to ask her the question, but he needed to know the answer. "Forgive me for being so boldly disrespectful, Mother, but if my stories so offended you and if you didn't stop reading my stories, after starting to read the first story, and if you continued reading, until you read all of my stories, you must have enjoyed reading them. Thusly, I dare say, you must have a favorite story or favorites." Elizabeth looked at her son, while running her fingers through her long, lush, brown hair and biting her lip. She looked, as if she was about to do or say something impulsively out of character. With her words telling him no, her body language said the opposite. In the way she played with her hair, there it was, the first sign that he was getting to her. He's never seen her look this way, fearful and vulnerable, yet, excited, while still trying to be in control. If she had a cigarette and was a smoker, he imagined she'd want a cigarette right about now. If she had a drink and was a drinker, he could see her sitting on his bed with a cigarette in one hand and a drink in the other, while discussing which stories she liked the best and why she liked them. Only, his mother wasn't the smoking and drinking type. Not even if it was a discussion about the birds and the bees, never is when she'd ever talk to him about sex. Too taboo of an off limit subject, she'd never openly discuss sex with him, especially incestuous sex between mother and son, especially incestuous sex between him and her. She was more than a bit uptight, when it comes to revealing her emotions, sexual or otherwise. Now that he saw firsthand how she reacted to his stories, he wondered if she was a victim and a survivor of sexual abuse. He wondered what happened to her to make her so uptight and nervous. So quick to point him in the direction of a psychiatrist, he wondered if ever she had therapy over what may have happened to her. Discussing sex with her was taboo, which is why discussing his stories of incest with her and forcing her to talk so openly about sex, of all things, was so much fun for him to watch. He watched her squirming, while trying to remain in control. Only, she surprised him, shocked him, actually, when she finally, openly, and honestly answered his question. "Actually, I do have a favorite story," said Elizabeth continuing to run her fingers through her long hair to fluff it out, as if she was brushing it in readiness for bed. Then, she did his favorite thing. She tossed her full, lush head of hair back in eagerness to give him her opinion of which story she enjoyed the most. Now, instead of looking at him with distain, she looked at him with renewed interest. She looked at him in the way that he so often imagined her looking at him, when they were just about to kiss. Every time she flipped back her hair with a toss of her head, he imagined his mother leaning over him and flipping back her hair, before taking his cock in her mouth to suck him. If Jason read his mother's body language correctly, in the way she continually touched her hair, when talking to him, and in the way she continued to make solid eye contact, when looking at him, unbelievably and undeniably, he'd say that she was as sexually aroused as he was. After reading his sexy and sexual stories about her, was she as sexually aroused by reading his stories, as he was sexually aroused in writing his stories. Only, more than a bit gun shy, after being wrong about her before, he wondered if he was wrong about her again, now. Perhaps, her telling him which story she enjoyed the best would give him some insight into what she was thinking. Now, as if a fast forward movie, all of his stories about her ran through his mind again. Mom Catches Me Masturbating Over Her Panties, My Drunken Mother Forces Me to Have Sex with Her, Videotaping My Mother Undressing, Watching My Mom Masturbating, Helping My Mother Take a Bath, Taking my Mom to my Prom and to my Bed, Mom Gives Me a Birthday Blowjob, and his unfinished story, Mom Strips Naked for Nude Day. The sudden flash of images of imagining her naked, while performing so very many sexual acts on him was an incestuous overload. "Which one or ones did you like the best, Mom? Aside from the deplorable sexual material, I'm just curious, which story interested you," he said switching out the word 'excite' with 'interest'. She looked at him, as if he was a perspective boyfriend, than her son. In the way she looked at him, her stare excited him. He wondered if it was her pheromones giving off a sexual discharge that aroused him even more. "First, I need to make this clear that I continued reading your stories not so much because of the vile content of the material, Jason, and not so much because they were all about me, but because the writing was so good. Not an easy thing to do, being that I'm your mother, but I was able to detach myself from the material and from the story by pretending that you were writing about someone else," she said a bit haughtily with attitude, while playing with her hair again. "Of course, Mother. I realize that," he said, while wondering if she knew she was playing with her hair. "I concentrated more on the writing than on the subject matter. To be honest, even if they were about someone else's mother, the subject matter was offensively deplorable and the explicit, incestuous sex was perversely horrible. Yet, I persevered," she said, while continuing to make finger curls with her hair. "I continued reading your stories because you, my son, created them, developed them, edited them, and wrote them. I'm so very proud you, Jason," she said pausing from playing with her hair to wipe a tear from her eye. "I see," said Jason unable to hide his disappointment that his mother wasn't ready to have an incestuous relationship with him. "You're a wonderful writer, Jason, very talented, indeed, but you need to chose a different subject." "Thank you, Mother." "Perhaps you could write a story about a boy and his dog or a love story about a woman your age and about you falling in love with someone, who falls in love with you, too," she said suddenly looking at him, as if he had just picked her up in a bar and was about to make the moves on her. "Yes, of course. Perhaps, I should write those stories," said Jason confused by the look she was giving him. Then, he noticed the impressions his mother's nipples suddenly made through her bra and blouse. Was she cold or was she sexually excited, he wondered? "So, forgetting about the offensively deplorable subject matter for a moment, Mother, and forgetting that the incestuous stories were about me making love to you, just for creative writing sake, being that you already said that you have a favorite story, which particular story did you enjoy more than the others?" "Actually, and I'm embarrassed to admit this," she said blushing, while looking away, before establishing eye contact again, "but the story about me having sex with you, my son, while drunk, seemed plausible to me," she said looking at him with desire. "My Drunken Mother Forces Me to Have Sex with Her? Is that the story?" "Yes, for multiple reasons, all related to naughty feelings of guilt and wicked feelings of taboo, I can see that happening," said Elizabeth, her face turning Ferrari red in color. "Really," said Jason. The fact that she was so deeply blushing was telling. He wondered if he'd have any sexual success in getting his mother drunk. Only, other than wine at Thanksgiving and Christmas dinner and a glass of champagne at New Year's Eve, she seldom drank alcohol and never indulged in drugs. If she was freely discussing incest now, he could only imagined how sexually excited his mother would be, when high on cocaine. No doubt, she'd be a wild woman in bed. No doubt, she wouldn't care, if it was her son that she was fucking and sucking. "It's difficult for me to believe that any mother would have sex with her son, of course, but if the mother was so incapacitated by alcohol and if her son was so perverse in thought and determined in his incestuous desire to have sex with his mother, I could see how that could happen," she said curling her hair with her finger again. "That is, so long as their sexual union was a loving one, done in a loving way, as only a mother can do with her son, and not merely a sexual one," she said continuing to twirl her hair around her finger in the way that he imagined her twirling her tongue around his cock. "I see, Mother. Thank you, that's valuable feedback, especially coming from a mother's perspective," said Jason wishing his mother was drunk and naked now. "I don't think that any mother would turn away her son," she said turning red again, "especially when she was drunk or high and/or when her son was in desperate need of some emotionally understanding, loving affection, and physical attention, such as, if he returned home from war and was mentally or physically wounded or, after a bad breakup with his wife or girlfriend." "I see," said Jason now thinking that, if only he had a sad enough story to tell his Mom, she may willingly give him sex. "Actually, that's very valuable and insightful feedback, Mother, something that I can certainly take away with me to use with my next story, if ever I find the inspiration to continue with and finish this Mom Strips Naked for Nude Day story first," he said with exaggerated sadness. Then, he thought of all that she had just said. Was she asking him to get her drunk? Was she asking him to tell her something that so troubled him that she'd give him her emotional understanding, loving affection, and physical attention? Was she asking him to take advantage of her, while she was so incapacitated and/or feeling so motherly towards him? Treading on uncharted ground, he didn't know. So completely wrong about her before, and no longer trusting his instincts about her now, he couldn't tell what she was thinking. "Having read how you wrote and worded that particular story about a drunken mother having sex with her son," she said seemingly preoccupied with that one particular story and that one particular scenario of a son taking advantage of his drunken mother. "When removing the incestuous sex, it was a truly beautiful and loving story," she said suddenly becoming more animated, as if she was imagining Jason taking advantage of her in that story. "Thank you, Mother." "I can see how that really could happen, a son taking advantage of his passed out, drunken mother," she continued, not dropping the subject, obviously having more to say on the subject. "Undressing her, removing her blouse and skirt, seeing her in her bra and panty, before unhooking her bra and sliding down her panty, stripping her naked, and seeing her completely nude, actually," she said pausing from quoting his story to toy with the top button of her blouse. "Yes, that would be exciting for a son to see his mother drunk and/or incapacitated and nude," said Jason with his mind filled with the imagined image of his mother drunk, incapacitated, and nude. "I imagine a mother wouldn't resist being put to bed, but would welcome the sordid, albeit seemingly innocent help from her son to undress her. Then, while freely feeling her naked body, I can understand a son wanting to touch his mother everywhere. Just as you wrote it, I imagine a son wanting to feel his mother where no son should ever feel his mother," she said pausing to bite her lip, while fluttering her eyelashes. "Thank you for that valuable feedback, Mother," he said. As if she was confessing her incestuous, sexual fantasy to him, as if she was writing her own incestuous story, she was making him hot and horny for her. "Being that she was drunk and so indisposed, I imagined him touching her, feeling her, and exploring her body would only be normal and natural for a son, excited from seeing his mother naked, to do. Under those circumstances, I can understand a son wanting to have his wicked way with his mother in that forbidden, sexual way and his mother wanting to have her sexual way with her son," she said becoming flushed and flustered, as if she was about to faint from sexual arousal. "Thank you, Mother. I'll take your valuable feedback, as a compliment to my writing," he said now wondering how he could get his mother drunk enough for her to play out her sexual fantasy, if indeed, that's what this was. Going with the flow in his thoughts about her being drunk and naked, maybe her friends could take her to dinner, he thought. Maybe then, so long as she didn't drive herself home, she'd use her excessive drinking during dinner, as her excuse to come home drunk and allow him to strip her naked and help her to bed. He imagined slowly undressing her, unbuttoning her blouse to expose her bra and unzipping her skirt to expose her panty. He imagined touching and feeling her through her bra and panty, before unhooking her bra and sliding down her panty. Once she was naked, fingering her nipples and fingering her pussy, he imagined picking her up in his arms and putting her to bed. Once she was in bed and with him leaning over her to suck her big tits, he imagined her touching his cock through his pajamas, while he felt her breasts and fingered her nipples. He imagined her removing his erect cock from his pajamas and taking him in her mouth. "Or, as despicable as human nature can be, in the case of your story, a mother using her drunkenness, as her excuse to hide her true sexual feelings for her son and to seduce him to have sex with him, the story, My Drunken Mother Forces Me to Have Sex with Her, probably happens more than we know," she said picking up a magazine to fan herself. "I see," said Jason, continuing to wonder if his mother was hinting at having sex with him by giving him the thought to get her drunk, along with the thought of what would happen, if he did get her drunk. Just as in his story, he suddenly imagined his mother drunk, helpless, and naked. He imagined undressing her, stripping her naked, and putting her to bed, while touching and feeling her big breasts, fingering and sucking her nipples, and rubbing her clit, while finger fucking her pussy. He wondered the kind of sounds she make, when having an orgasm. He looked at her full, red lips and wondered what it would be like to kiss them and to French kiss her. After hearing her reveal her sexual feelings, even if he was to fulfill her sexual fantasy, he'd always wonder, was she really drunk or was she pretending to be so indisposed? After stripping her naked, he'd so love to strip himself naked, while she was naked, too. Imagining himself sleeping in the same bed with her, moving her hand to his cock, maybe even moving his cock to her drunken lips to see if she'd take the hint and suck him, he could only imagine the reaction she'd have the next morning finding herself naked with him naked in bed with her, too. He wondered her reaction to seeing and feeling his cock. He wondered if his mother sucked cock. He wondered if she'd allow him to cum in her mouth. He wondered if she swallowed. "Perhaps, without even realizing it, as a very talented writer, you've used your insightfulness for incest to capture the secret, forbidden desires of a mother for her son," she said almost in a whisper, as if she was talking to herself about herself, while admitting something to him that was so forbidden, yet so exciting. "Truth be told, I'm sure just as many mothers have wicked thoughts about sleeping with their sons, as sons have about sleeping with their mothers. Only, with a woman different than a man, a mother wouldn't act upon her incestuous impulses in the way that a man would. She'd have to be taken and forced to enjoy the incestuous, sexual encounter." Was his mother asking him to take her? Was she asking him to force her? Was she asking him to rape her. He imagined taking her in her arms and kissing her hard, before ripping off her clothes and stripping her naked. He imagined her trying to fight him off, but too strong for her, he imagined having his wicked way with her. Then, finally, embracing the inevitable, he imagined her wrapping her shapely legs around his strong back to fuck him, as if she was a wild animal in heat. He could only imagined the blowjob that she'd give him then, after he gave her an orgasm with his mouth and another one with his cock. He could only imagine the hot sex they'd have every day thereafter. Mom Strips Naked for Nude Day Ch. 03 "My Drunken Mother Forces Me to Have Sex with Her is one of my favorite stories, too," he said wondering if she liked that particular story because she imagined herself as the main character in that story or if she had thoughts about getting drunk and pretending to be incapacitated, as her excuse to have sex with him. "Because of the titillation factor, whether it was accidental or purposely done, there's a lot of teasing by the mother of the son in that story." To be continued... Mom Strips Naked for Nude Day Ch. 04 Chapter Four - It's Just a Story "I mean, God only knows, we all have sexual needs and with me not having a man in my life for years, since your father left me, at 17-years-old, when I was pregnant with you," she said unbuttoning the top two buttons of her blouse and flaying the top portion of the thin, pink material open enough to reveal some cleavage, while waving her hand by her face. "Suddenly, it's so hot in your room, stuffy, actually." "I'll put on my fan. How's that, Mother?" Sexually exciting him that his mother was hot, literally and figuratively, he angled his small, portable fan towards her. "Is that better?" "Yes, thank you, honey. I mean, I've had sex with other men before, of course, especially after joining that dating site, which was more of a sex site," she said blushing, while letting out an uncomfortable laugh. "Unfortunately, nothing serious ever happened and those three men that I had sexual relations with, didn't call me again," she said with apparent sadness. "Out of practice, I guess, maybe I'm not very good in bed," she said with another sad, little, nervous laugh. "Um, that's way too much information, Mother," said Jason holding up his hands and looking, as if he was about to be sick. "I really don't need to know about your past sexual experiences with other men, Mom. It's enough that I imagine them, when writing about them in my stories," he said laughing to hide his feeling of jealousy. Only, truth be told, he wished she'd share all the sexy details of her sexual encounters with them. An image that made him as sexually excited as it made him insanely jealous and angry, he felt sick that a man had sex with the object of his sexual attraction and sensual affection, his mother. Now, he couldn't help but imagine his mother naked and in bed with those three men, as if they were gangbanging her, while she fucked and sucked them and they licked and fucked her. He couldn't help but imagine his mother writhing naked in sexual pleasure and having sex with so much sexual passion. He wondered if she sucked cock. He wondered, if she allowed those three men to cum in her mouth. He wondered if she swallowed. For him to salvage a mother and son relationship that he so enjoyed and treasured, before she found his book of incestuous stories about her, even if he so believed otherwise, he needed to make her understand that, even though his stories were about incest and about her, they were just stories and nothing more than that. Of course, those stories that he wrote were more than just stories to him. With his incestuous thoughts written out in stories that relieved his brain of the sexual frustration of not being able to have sex with his mother, they were his incestuous sexual fantasies coming alive, if only on paper. Only, in the gullible and vulnerable way his mother was, he felt confident that he could make her believe that he had no other ulterior motive than creative writing, when writing those nasty and dirty stories about her. So long as he could explain his motives in such a way that she felt that his stories were more innocent than perverse, maybe she'd agree to having sex with him, one day, or, at the very least, agree to strip naked and show him more of her hot body, whether accidentally or purposeful. For sure, he wasn't insane. If he was anything, he was just crazy like a fox. Now, like mother like son, he felt certain that his mother wouldn't take him to see a psychiatrist, especially after suspecting she was having the same incestuous thoughts about him, too. "Nor will I ever tell you in detail about my sexual experiences," she said with another nervous laugh, while fluffing back her hair again and making solid eye contact with her son. "After reading about all of your incestuous thoughts and sexual desires, I wonder," she said laughing, "is the erotic writer getting a little uncomfortably unnerved by a real dose of his mother's sexual reality?" In the way that Lily Tomlin of Laugh-in used to do, she tucked a fingertip in her cleavage, while looking at Jason with a look that made him feel that she was undressing him with her eyes. Certainly, cock for tit, he had already undressed her with his eyes so many times before, that he couldn't keep count. Without even crossing the line, in the way they were both eying one another, whether they knew it or not, they had already crossed the incestuous line in the way that a mother shouldn't sexually think about her son and in the way that a son shouldn't sexually think about his mother. Besides, Jason had already crossed the line long ago, when writing his first incestuous story about having sex with his mother. Years later, she had already crossed the line, too, by reading all of the stories that he wrote about her with obvious sexual excitement. "It's not that, Mom. It's just, even though I can imagine us in a sexual relationship, especially when I'm in my creative writing zone, once I stop writing, as if my incestuous scenario is a bubble, it bursts and you return to being my mother again, instead of my sexy lover. Admittedly, to say that my sexual fantasy is a letdown, once I stop writing about you having sex with me, is a gross understatement. Honestly, even though you may think me mentally maladjusted and my writing perverse, truly, they are just stories to me," he said trying his best to make his mother believe his lie by giving her a sincere look of innocence. "I see and that's so interesting that, once you're away from your creative writing mode that you can return from the incestuous sexual relationship to a normal mother and son one. Now, after explaining about your writing and about your stories, I fully understand how you feel in that regard." "I'm glad that I could finally make you understand that my writings about you are nothing more than creative stores, Mother." Both fell silent for a moment, before a sly, sexy smile took control of Elizabeth's and until she spoke. "Sorry, but just bear with me for a moment, so that I can fully understand your meaning that all that you write are, indeed, just stories and that once you are out of your creative writing mode, you return back to a mother and son loving family relationship, instead of a mother and son incestuously sexual relationship," she said giving her son a pert smile. "With what you just said in mind about your incestuous thoughts ending, as soon as you stop writing, let me ask you this, then." "Yes, Mother. What would you like to know?" "Are you saying that, even if I offered you sex that you'd reject me and not have sex with me?" Not waiting for his answer, she asked another question. "Are you saying that, even if I invited you in my bathroom to help me bathe that you'd decline?" Again, not waiting for him to respond, she continued her interrogation of her son. "Are you saying that, even if I came home drunk and passed out on the couch that you wouldn't take advantage of me by undressing me, touching me, feeling me, and having sex with my unconscious body?" She looked at him a victorious smile. "Just so that I understand, are you saying that, even if you invited me to some gala event or a New Year's Eve celebration, once having a bit too much to drink that you wouldn't try to kiss me, touch me, and feel where no son should ever touch and feel his mother?" She smiled at him again, as if he was perilously hanging on to a cliff edge with his fingertips and she was ready to step on his fingers to watch him fall. "Are you saying that, even if I offered to blow you, as your special birthday gift, that you'd say no?" He was floored. Filled with sexual images of her offering him sex, of her inviting him in her bathroom to help her take a bath, and of her coming home drunk and him taking advantage of her by undressing her and seeing her naked, touching her, feeling her, and having sex with her unconscious body, he was stunned by all that she asked. He imagined escorting his mother to a New Year's Eve celebration and having his wicked way with her, after the stroke of midnight, when their innocent mother and son kiss turned into an incestuous French kiss. Then, with Happy Birthday playing through his mind, he imagined his mother falling to her knees, unzipping his pants, reaching her hand inside, and pulling out his cock. He imagined her holding his engorged prick in her hand, as she fondled the head of his cock with her fingertips, while stroking him. Then, with her looking up at him with her big, beautiful, green eyes, he imagined her taking his cock in her mouth and blowing him, really sucking him. As if his stories made enough of an impression on her for her to instantly recall them, he couldn't believe all of what his mother said to him. Never has she ever talked like this before, with such sexual openness and erotic directness. "Gees, Mom," said Jason stealthily adjusting his growing erection in his pants from his incestuous imagery overload. "When you put it that way, honestly, I don't think I'd say no to any of those scenarios. Oh, my God, Mom. No man, whether blood related or not, could ever say no to having sex you," he said looking at her, as if he was a man on a mission to have sex with his mother, while waiting for her to give him the word. "Oh, Jason, you know just what to say to a woman," she said blushing, while fanning herself with his binder of erotic stories from the heat in his room and from his sexual compliment of her. In was then that he realized, every time he complimented her, she'd gush. Maybe compliments was not only a way to her heart but also to her pussy. Obviously hungry for a man's attention and affection, even if that man was her son, maybe especially if that man was her son, he had never seen his mother so softly pliable. Putty in his hands, with just a few well placed, kind compliments, he wondered how far she'd go? To be continued... Mom Strips Naked for Nude Day Ch. 05 Chapter Five - Call Me Elizabeth "For the sake of salvaging our mother and son relationship and growing it into a more mature one, I'm just curious," she said with a sexually satisfied smile, as if he had just given her a verbal orgasm with his compliment, that no man would ever turn her down for sex. "Would it help to grow our relationship by removing the stigma of awkwardness and by eliminating some of our mother and son barriers, if we addressed one another differently? "What do you mean, Mother?" "Perhaps, if you called me Elizabeth, instead of Mom, Mother, and Mommy that may be a first step. I mean, you're a 22-year-old man now, Jason. Even though I love and find such motherly comfort in your endearments, you don't always have to call me Mom, Mother, or Mommy. From now on, call me Elizabeth," she said raising her chin and flipping back her lush, long hair, as if she was a woman he had just met. "Maybe," said Jason. "Yeah, calling you Elizabeth instead of calling you Mom, Mommy, and Mother may help eliminate the barrier that we always have between us. Anyway, Mom, I mean, Elizabeth, regarding our mother and son relationship, as you will always be my mother, whether I call you Mom or Elizabeth, conversely just because some stranger is my biological father, that doesn't make him my Dad." "Oh, assuredly and without doubt, I wholeheartedly agree with you. Only, where did that come from, Jason?" She looked at him with confusion. They had discussed all of this before and she had told him that, obviously, his father wanting nothing to do with raising him. "Obviously, Mom, even though we discussed and I understood, it still bothers me that my father never contacted me. After wrestling with the hurt for so long, the man who impregnated you is just a stranger to me, as he is to you, now. I've given up hope of ever meeting him. Actually, after never having even met him, after all these years have passed, he's just some random man you had sex with the one time and--" "Actually, he wasn't some random man, Jason. I had sex with him more than just one time," she said with a blush, while fingering her hair. "Oh? I didn't know that. I just assumed that I was nothing more than a onetime accident." In the way that she said that he wasn't some random man made him realize that maybe he was a man she already knew and had known for years. Already twisted with his incestuous thoughts over his mother, maybe the man who impregnated her was a family friend, a married man, or relative, but who? "You're no accident, Jason. God put you here for a reason," she said giving him a loving look. "Thank you, Mom. Sorry, I mean, Elizabeth," he said with a smile. "Since were on the subject, can you tell me something, anything more about him?" "It was such a long time ago, Jason. Living in a rural area, there were more farm animals than there were people. He was just a man from my neighborhood and I loved him. Moreover, it wasn't just having sex with him the one time, as you assumed. We had a love relationship and not just a sexual relationship. Only, my relationship with him was more love and his relationship with me was more sex," she said with sadness. "I see. I'm sorry to have brought this up again, Mother," said Jason. Both mother and son paused, before Elizabeth broke their silence by speaking again. "We had sex numerous times, dozens of times, over a period of weeks and months. Truth be told, in the rough and disrespectful way that he treated me, as if he was angry at himself and at me for him seducing me, I was his slut bitch. Nonetheless his lack of caring, I was always hungry for his big, hard, hairy--" "Mother! Really. That's quite enough. I really don't need to hear anymore." Now, with her explanation of how he came to be conceived, he took her at her word that his father was just some neighborhood man. Nevertheless, he still wondered how delicious that would be, if his mother had already been seduced by her father and by incest. Looking so much like his grandfather, he couldn't help but suspect that his grandfather was his Dad and his grandfather had been his mother's lover. His grandmother had died, when his mother was young and Elizabeth had stepped into the role of caretaker for her father. Being that they lived alone in a rural area, he wondered what else she did for her father, other than the laundry, the cooking, and the cleaning. Maybe they slept in the same bed. Maybe giving him sex was her expected duty to do. Surely, her having sex with her father would explain why she ran away from home, shortly after he was born. With her no longer having anything more to do with her father, may give a clue that he was the one who impregnated her. "Sorry, Jason. With all of this sexy and sexual talk, I got carried away. It's just so hot in your room that I don't even know what I'm saying," she said defending her personal, sexual disclosure, while fanning herself by fluffing out her blouse with both hands and inadvertently exposing more of her bra clad breasts to her son. "Okay, okay, Elizabeth. I get the picture," he said figuratively, but wanting to say literally, when he saw more of her bra. "Anyway, after nearly twenty-three years later, whoever my father is, I'd think he'd contact you or me. I'd think he'd be curious to know about me and/or about you. He doesn't even know if you aborted the baby or had a son or a daughter. does he?" "He knows that I had a boy," she said with sadness. "He doesn't even know if you gave up the baby for adoption. He doesn't even know if I even exist." "He knows that I kept the baby and that you exist, Jason. " "He could be dead for all I know." "I'm sorry, Jason. Always having my Dad in my life, always so very close to my Daddy, with one half of your identity a mystery, I can't imagine how incomplete you must feel having never known your Dad." Afraid to ask her, but not wanting her to think him so perverted that he'd think that she had an incestuous affair with her father in the way that he wanted to have with his mother, suddenly Jason wondered just how close to her Daddy she was. Always too familiar with his mother, kissing her on the lips and patting her on the ass, he was always leering at her. When in her bikini, he remembered his grandfather taking longer than necessary to put suntan lotion on his mother's back and legs. Something that happened so very long ago, he remembered his grandfather standing in her bedroom doorway, while she changed into her swimsuit. Surprised that he remembered any of that and all of that, being that he was so young, it made sense to him now that they may have had an incestuous, sexual relationship. In made sense that his grandfather may be his father. Now, he couldn't help but wonder if he was his grandfather's child. Wouldn't that be weird, if his grandfather was his father. Certainly, without doubt, that would explain his need to write incestuous stories. Now, he wondered, with his attraction to his mother, with him writing erotic literature, and with her reading all of his incestuous stories, if it was all because he and she had her father's perverted genes. Suddenly, he felt doomed to repeat his incestuous family history by wanting to have sex with his mother. Suddenly, wanting to break the incestuous cycle he no longer wanted to have sex with his mother. Yet, all he needed to change his mind and to renew his lust for his mother was just to look at her. "Don't be sorry, Mom. None of that was your fault. You were young and in love. You didn't know he was a cowardly asshole, who couldn't face up to his responsibility," said Jason taking his mother's hand and kissing it, before leaning over to her to give her a kiss on the cheek and a hug. "Thank you, Jason, for comforting me and for understanding," she said returning his hug. To be continued... Mom Strips Naked for Nude Day Ch. 06 Chapter Six - I did have a question about your erotic, incestuous story. The eternal pervert that he is, when he hugged his mother, squeezed her actually, the top of her blouse opened more giving him a great down blouse view of her bra and cleavage again. As soon as he broke off his hug of her, no doubt, knowing that he was looking, putting a hand to the top of her blouse to close it but deciding to leave it as it was, she flushed with either embarrassment or sexual excitement. Hoping it was latter instead of the former, he couldn't tell which. "So, anyway, getting back to my story, did you find the characters engaging and believable?" Jason looked at his mother for a clue, as to how she felt about his stories and/or about him. Hoping she wouldn't notice, when he moved to sit on his bed next to her, he slid his body back against the length of her thigh. When he sat like that, pushing up against her and sliding his body up and along her left thigh like that, he purposely bunched up his mother's short skirt high enough to give him a view of her panty, when he stood up and stood in front of her again. Hoping she didn't notice her short skirt in disarray and higher up her thigh, he couldn't wait to look to see, if he could see her panty. He loved his mother's panty and he especially enjoyed the view of her exposed pussy mound. With her now being more relaxed about their sexual conversation and about her seating position, no doubt, after the mother and son conversation they had, her knees drifted further apart. Hoping she didn't notice that she was so exposed, he couldn't wait to stand in front of her and, hopefully, see her patch of panty. "I did, Jason. Actually and I'm embarrassed to admit this, but even though I never thought of you in a sexual way, in the way you wrote so lovingly about me, I couldn't help but think of you in a sexual way. I couldn't help but think of you as my lover, albeit incestuous lover, after reading your stories," she said turning red again, while fluttering her eyelids and giving out an uncomfortable laugh. "Your story was a lovely moment, instead of a disturbing one," she said with her face flushed and with embarrassed excitement in her voice. Never has his mother talked so freely with him about her feelings before, especially when it came to sex. He was floored by all that she said. Even though he's imagined and written about his mother in all sorts of sexual positions, for the first time, he saw his mother more as a sexual woman than as his uptight mother. "Really?" Jason's eyes fell to the side of his mother's breasts again. She had big tits. In the way they appeared in her bra and filled out her nightgown, he imagined she had beautiful breasts. He loved his mother's big tits. He only wished he could see them, touch them, feel them, fondle them, caress them, and suck them. So attracted to his mother's breasts, especially after talking so openly and honestly about having incestuous sex with her, he was tempted to reach out and touch them, but he didn't dare. "I did have a question about your erotic, incestuous story, though," she said looking up and folding her arms across her breasts, when she caught him staring at her tits. "You may ask me anything about my writing, Mother," said Jason reestablishing eye contact with his mother. "But will you answer all that I ask you?" She looked at him with skepticism. "Pardon?" "Well, it's foolish for me to ask you questions that you won't honestly answer," she said waiting for him to answer, before looking away. "I'll honestly answer any and every question you ask of me, Mom," he said. With her skirt raised to mid thigh, wishing he could feel her thigh but not wanting her to realize her thigh was so exposed, he patted her knee instead and left his hand there, as if a barrier, while hoping she didn't fluff down her skirt. "Okay, fair enough. I was just wondering..." "Yes, Mother. What were you wondering?" Jason looked at his mother's breasts again, before looking down at her exposed thigh, while wondering if he could see her panties and thinking that he could, if he stood in front of her. Only, how could he get up and stand in front of her without her noticing his intentions and without her noticing that her skirt was raised high enough for him to see her panty? He was so tempted to sit on the floor in front of her, in the way that he used to do, when she read him a bedtime story. He'd definitely have a clear view of her panties, then. Only, he'd be too obvious in his intent, especially now that she knew he was so hot for her and was always looking to see what he could see of her. Even just a few years ago, when he was 18-years-old, so very emotionally immature and sexually inexperienced, he was too young to do anything about his incestuous feelings for her then. Not understanding the sexual feelings that he had for his mother, especially when he saw his mother's pussy up her short nightgown or parts of her breasts down her low cut nightgown more than a few times, he knew what he'd do now, should he see her pussy and/or her breasts. For sure, he'd reach out and touch her. For sure, figuring that she was flashing him purposely, he'd reach out and feel her. Only, just as he has read her wrong before, about her wanting him as much as he wanted her, he needed to take it slow to make sure they were on the same page. "These stories that you write about me are so very sexually explicit and realistically believable. Honestly, I was surprised by some of the things that you wrote about me," she said running her fingers through her hair again and taking her tip of her hair across her face and to her mouth, while giving him a sexy look. "Thank you, Mother, for the compliment, but they are just stories," he said knowing differently. "To be honest, they are more than just stories, Jason, especially the parts about culingus and felacio," she said turning a bright red, while looking at him dead in the eyes. "I can't remember reading anything as steamy," she said waving her hand in front of her face. "Admittedly, just as it was difficult for you to read that, it was difficult for me to write that," he said, but for different reasons he thought without saying. "Au contraire. Squirming a little in my chair, I'm embarrassed to admit that I was more than sexually aroused a few times, while reading all that you wrote. Forgetting for a moment that you had written it, I had no idea that you, my baby boy, knew about such sexual things. Oh, my God, I can't believe what I'm about to say, maybe because it's been so long, since I've had a hard cock in my hand, in my pussy, and in my mouth, but I almost felt that, when I was reading what you wrote, that you were writing about you eating me and me blowing you." Actually, did she forget that he wrote all of these stories with her in mind? Nonetheless, her getting lost in his erotic story, he couldn't believe that his mother just said that she imagined him licking her pussy. He couldn't believe that his mother just said that she imagined sucking his cock. As sexually aroused as he was sexually frustrated, he didn't know what to do with all of this information that she had just confessed. Should he ask her, if he can lick her pussy? Should he ask her, if she'd suck his cock? Should he take her in his arms and kiss her? Should he just strip off his clothes to see her reaction to seeing his exposed cock and to see what she'd do, when seeing the sexual passion that he has for her in seeing his erect prick? Only, he couldn't sexually assault his mother in that incestuous lurid way. He needed to prepare her and season her to the idea of having sex with him. "Really? Wow! That's quite a compliment to my writing," he said instead. "Actually, Mother, I'm shocked. I've never heard you talk in this way." As soon as she uttered the words culingus, the image of him positioned between his mothers leg and licking her pussy filled his mind. He imagined fingering her, while rubbing her clit and reaching up to finger her nipples. Then, when she said felacio, her sucking his cock immediately replaced him licking her pussy and he imagined her on her knees blowing him. Figuring now that she did, he wondered if she swallowed. Just as he'd do anything to lick her pussy, he'd do anything for her to suck his cock. He'd love to cum in her mouth, while playing with her big tits, fingering her hard nipples, and watching his mother swallow all that he had to give her. "I'm a woman first and your mother second, Jason," she said giving him a sexual look, while continuing to curl her hair with her fingers. "Getting back to the story that you wrote about a son taking advantage of his drunken mother, able to give me, the reader, such vivid imagery, that just shows me the great writer that you are." "Thank you, Mom," he said giving her a hug and feeling the back of her bra through her blouse, enough of a sensation on his fingertips to make his cock throb and his imagination wonder what she'd look like topless. "Only," she said abruptly ending his hug, "I was wondering..." "Yes, Mom?" She gave him a look that she had never given him before. Sexual and sexy, she was so softly vulnerable that he wanted to take her in his arms and kiss her. If she was any other woman than his mother, picking up on her subtle, sexual cues, he would have. She made him feel, as if they were on a date and were exploring one another's sexual peccadilloes with a battery of questions. A way for him to gradually develop a sexual relationship with his mother, eager to know what she wanted to ask him, he was just as eager to answer whatever question she asked. "Have you masturbated over having sex with me?" She discreetly looked down at the bulge in his jeans, before reestablishing eye contact. Immediately, as if a fast forward movie, he recalled the hundreds, maybe even thousands of times, that he masturbated over the thoughts of his mother naked and giving him sex. She was his favorite woman to think about, when masturbating. Sure, he had masturbated over other women before, but always he returned to masturbate over his mother. It didn't take him much to start masturbating over her. An up skirt or a down blouse view was all that he needed to see to make him horny enough to need to cum, while thinking of her sucking his cock. Just with her asking him, if he masturbated over her, he wanted to unzip himself, pull out his cock, and stroke himself in front of her. "Oh, God, Mother, this is so embarrassing," he said shocked and sexually excited that he just caught his mother looking at his bulge in the way that he was always looking at her tits. "Um, well, to be completely honest, yes, I have masturbated over the thought of having sex with you, Mother." "Being that you've already graphically written about it, it's only normal that you masturbate over having sex with your mother, Jason. Men have been sexually attracted to their mothers going back to the dark ages. Shakespeare wrote about it more than once. Only..." she said looking down at his bulge again, before looking up at his face. "Yes, Mom?" "I was just wondering," she said blushing again, while twirling her hair around her finger. "Do you still masturbate over me now?" She asked her question so demurely, while looking down at the floor, before making solid eye contact with him, while continuing to twirl her hair with her finger. Does he still masturbate over her? He never stopped masturbating over her, he wanted to say. He wanted to masturbate right now with the hopes that she'll help him and stroke him, before taking him in her mouth to suck him. "Gees, Mom," he said not believing that he caught his mother looking at his bulge again. "You're really putting me on the spot here but, since I agreed to answer all of your questions, yes I do still masturbate over you. Sometimes my own stories get me so very aroused that I imagine what it would be like, if they were true and if I was having sex with you. Besides, look at you, Mom. You're hot. You're gorgeous. You're a real MILF. Every man would want to do you." To be continued... Mom Strips Naked for Nude Day Ch. 07 Chapter 7 - What's a MILF In just the way she gushed, not only did he know that she knew what a MILF was but also he knew that the way to her heart was with compliments, sexual or otherwise. With no man in her life, obviously she was hungry for the attention of a man. Now, he wondered if she was hungry for sex from him, too. "MILF? What's a MILF?" Acting like the sexy diva she was, she looked at him, while biting her lip, before tossing her hair again in the way of a Playboy Playmate sexy kitten playing her part in a Playboy XXX movie. "Um, well, don't get mad and take this the wrong way and out of context but a MILF is a mother that I'd like to fuck." As soon as he said the word fuck, he could feel his eyes fall from her face to her tits and to her pussy. Imagining her naked, as if the mere thought of fucking her was the code word to his sexual arousal, he felt his cock harden by the mere thought of fucking his mother. "So, is that it?" A look that he's never seen from her before, she looked at him with lust in her eyes. "You'd like to fuck me?" She looked at him with the interest of a blind internet date sitting across from him in a cocktail bar. With his mind twisted in the way that he was so focused on having incestuous sex with his mother, even though she asked a rhetorical question, he turned it around in his mind, while pretending that she was the one, who actually asked him, if he wanted to fuck her. Honestly, as if it was a test and/or a trick question, he didn't know how to answer her seemingly innocent question. Only, his mother the Queen of double sided questions, meaning what she said but never saying what she means, never asked innocent questions. With her questions a double sided sword, he knew that, however he answered her question, she'd lope off his head. "Sorry, Mom for the disrespect. That was just an inappropriate figure of speech. Forgive me," he said a pausing, why debating if she should jump from the frying pan into the fire. "Actually, truth be told, in a perfect world where incest was not only acceptable but also encouraged," he said pausing again, before speaking. "I'd love to fuck you, I mean, make love to you, Mother," he said not believing that he actually said that to his mother. "I see," she said falling silent, while looking down to study a spot on his carpet. He followed her eyes with his, hoping that the spot wasn't a cum stain from one of his more violent masturbation sessions, when thinking of her naked and on her knees. Glad that he finally admitted his incestuous desire for her, he watched her, while wondering what she was thinking. Was she thinking about him fucking her? Was she thinking about her making love to him? Never able to tell with her, he wondered what she was feeling. With her continuing to play with her hair, while giving him sexy looks, was she just as sexually aroused as he was? He didn't know. He couldn't tell. A line harder to cross than he had thought, sadly frustrating, maybe the only way he'll ever see his mother naked and experience his mother sexually is through his stories and/or in his sexual fantasies, while masturbating over the naked thoughts of her. "Any time I go out with you, Mom, I mean, Elizabeth, people think that you're my girlfriend or my older sister. Unless they know us, never does anyone suspect that you're my mother. If they thought anything, they'd probably think you're a cougar dating a younger man." "A cougar?" She blushed, while looking at him with lust in her eyes. "Do you mean in the way of Demi Moore with Ashton Kutcher and Jennifer Lopez with that 24-year-old boy, toy dancer?" "Yes," he said smiling that she mentioned Jennifer Lopez, his favorite female celebrity. Just as he knew she knew what a MILF was, he knew she knew what a cougar was, too. "Oh, I rather like that thought," said Elizabeth putting a fingertip to her lips. "Me dating a younger man and a younger man wanting an old broad like me is a rather delicious thought," she said with a sexy laugh, while studying him. "Actually, I'm sorry that I mentioned that, Mother. I'm not sure how much I like the idea of you being a cougar," he said with a nervous laugh. She looked at her son with renewed interest, studied him, actually. With MILF and cougar, no doubt, on her mind, maybe she was thinking that he was a new gateway to her older woman with a younger man sexuality. Then, she validated his thoughts by verbalizing her thoughts. "Maybe you can bring some of your college friends around for me to tease, when I'm out back and tanning in my sexy and revealing bikini," she said with a sexy laugh and throwing back her hair with a sexy toss of her head. So uptight before, he couldn't believe the total transformation in his mother now. As if she was experiencing her own little sexual revolution by the mere mention of calling her a MILF and a cougar, he hoped that she included him in her plans to fuck and suck younger men. No longer thinking of her as his mother, he perceived her as a sexy, sexual woman, especially, when she looked at him like that, while tossing back her hair and smiling at him in that sexy way. "I don't think so, Mother," said Jason suddenly feeling jealous that she'd sexually tease his friends and not sexually tease him. Besides, he didn't want his friends to think that his mother was a player, a MILF of a cougar, and a whore. Both mother and son remained silent for a moment, while Jason imagined introducing his three, horny friends to her. He recalled the image of his mother in her barely there bikini, when his grandfather was oiling up her butt cheeks, so long ago. Never has he seen so much of her hot body, when she wears her barely there bikinis. Then, when she undid her bikini bra, while she was on her stomach, with the entire sides of her squished breasts so exposed, never has he seen so much of her tits. Not to mention, in the way her bikini bottoms were cut, as if she was wearing thong panties, instead of a bikini, never has he seen so much of her ass and what a fabulous ass she has. At the time, coming home early from school because of a cancelled class, she didn't know he was home. She didn't know he was up in his room leering at her, while masturbating over her. She didn't know how much he saw of her and how much he wanted her hot body. Or did she know he was there watching her? Maybe, as lonely as she was horny herself, she was teasing him. The sight of her in her bikini was the inspiration that he needed to write his first story about her more than three years ago and with her giving him more inspiration with down blouses and up skirts, he has stopped writing incestuous stories about her, ever since. Given the sexy image by her, he couldn't help himself from imagining bringing home his friends to leer at her nearly naked body from upstairs in his bedroom, while his mother tanned out in the hot sun by the pool. Suddenly feeling the inspiration for another incestuous story, he imagined introducing his mother to his three, horny friends. He wondered if they'd want her, as much as he wanted her. Surely, in the way that he imagined them staring at her, they'd give him the visionary proof in their lustful leers, that his mother was just as hot as he was twisted. Sitting around the pool with the four of them staring at his mother's ass, before she sat up in her chaise lounge, while clutching her untied bikini top, he imagined himself going behind her to tie her top for her again. Only, tying it loosely again, loose enough that, when she stood and moved around, her breasts would surely make their appearance. Sure enough, as soon as she emerged from the house carrying a tray of lemonade for his friends and as soon as she leaned over them to serve them their drinks, he imagined her top coming untied and her big tits spilling out from small bra. Tying her loosely top for her again, while hoping she didn't notice, he imagined her diving in the pool and her surfacing without her bikini bra. He imagined she not realizing that her breasts were on display, until one of his friends reached up to grab a handful. When he ran his finger over her exposed nipple, she recoiled from his grasp, but another one of his friends grabbed her and ripped her bikini bottom off of her. Now naked, he imagined her trying to cover herself with her hands and forearm, but his friends pulled her arms behind her back. "Jason, help me," he imagined her screaming. "I'll help you, Mother, that is, after I help myself," he imagined saying, while reaching out his hands to touch and feel her everywhere. Now naked, he imagined his friends forcing his mother down to her knees. Then, one by one, they took their wicked turns with her mouth. "Let me ask you this, then," she said bursting the bubble of the new story that had quickly morphed and developed in his mind into, Mom and my Four, Horny Friends, a Gangbang. "Yes?" "Do you have a favorite story about me?" To be continued... Mom Strips Naked for Nude Day Ch. 08 Chapter 8 - "Do You Have a Favorite Incestuously Erotic Story About Me?" "Do I have a favorite story about you? Yes, I do," he said without even having to think. "Only, I'm embarrassed to admit it," said Jason removing his hand from his mother's knee, while so wanting to tell her about the brand new story that he had just imagined. "Go on, tell me, Jason. I'm curious to know, especially after I confessed which one of your stories is my favorite. Tell me which story is your favorite. We're both mature enough and close enough that we can discuss anything and everything, even sex. Don't be embarrassed. We've already openly discussed so much already," she said patting his knee. "Instead of thinking of us as mother and son, think more about us as a man and a woman, Elizabeth and Jason." When she said, 'instead of thinking of us as a mother and son, think more about us as a man and a woman,' Jason wanted to push his mother down on the bed and mount her, while kissing her. Imagining stripping off her clothes, just once he'd love to know what it would feel like to fuck his mother. "Well, to be honest, Elizabeth..." said Jason standing on the pretense of stretching. Nonchalantly, he walked in front of his mother to see if he could see her panties in an up skirt view. Surprisingly, her skirt was short enough, raised up high enough, and her knees were parted open enough that he had a clear view of his mother's inner, shapely, creamy thighs and her bright, white panty. Even when her knees were tightly pressed together, she was a woman with the type of body that, when she sat in a short skirt, there was a triangular opening above her thigh that exposed her panty. Countless times he spied his mother's panties, when she sat wearing a short skirt, Whenever she was sitting in the living room or outside entertaining, he watched the eyes of the other men go directly to her crotch, knowing they were enjoying the same view of his mother's panties that he so enjoyed seeing and that he was enjoying now. He always wondered if she knew she was flashing her panties. How could she not know? How could she be so oblivious to men's leering looks and stares? How exciting would that be, if she had been flashing them on purpose? How exciting that would be, if she had been flashing him on purpose? Not wanting her to catch him looking, he stood far enough back that he could see all of her body, along with her big breasts and pretty face, at a glance, and not just her panty. Forcing himself to look away, he made eye contact with his mother, before losing his mind in the impression her pussy mound made in her panty and the impressions her nipples made in her blouse. Only, too late, with his mind running away with his imagination of seeing her naked, she caught him staring at both her panties and nipples. Now keenly aware of her son's antics, she scolded him for looking. "Jason, you horny Devil," she said closing her knees, pulling down her short skirt, crossing her legs, folding her arms across her breasts, and turning a bright red. "Were you just looking at my panty and the impressions my nipples are making through my blouse and bra? Was Mommy inadvertently flashing you bits and pieces of her body?" "Sorry, Mom. I couldn't help myself from looking. It's a habit," he said turning red. "When I saw your nipples make their appearance, especially after you read all of my stories, I became sexually aroused. Then, when I saw that your panties were exposed, too, I'm only human," he said with an unapologetic shrug. "It's okay. I understand, Jason. You're at that age, where your hormones are controlling your brain," she said with a warm smile. "Just as you said, you're a woman first and my mother second, well, I'm a man first and your son second," said Jason sitting next to his mother again, but not close enough to bunch up and raised her skirt again. "Looking at you is how I get the fodder and the inspiration for a new story," he said, while thinking about his new story and about his mother giving him and his three horny, friends forced blowjobs, while they fondled her big tits and fingered her hard nipples. "Can you really see the impressions my nipples make through my bra and blouse," she said unfolding her arms to pull her blouse tight, while looking down at herself. If her nipples weren't obvious before, they were definitely more obvious now. "Oh my, you can. I'm so very embarrassed," she said, only this time, as if she was teasing him, without turning red this time. "Sorry, Mom. I can't help but look, when you're showing. You're so beautiful," he said forcing himself to look away from the impressions of her nipples. If he was sitting there with another woman, other than his mother, this is when he would have leaned in to kiss her. In the way she was returning his look, if she was sitting there with anyone but her son, no doubt, this is when she would have returned his kiss, he imagined thinking and hoping. "Focus Jason, focus," she said folding her arms across her breasts again, when he was staring down her blouse. "We were discussing which story is your favorite," she said with a sexy laugh. No doubt, a sucker for the compliments and the attention that he was paying her, he had no idea how easy it was to seduce his mother. Now he understood how those three men she dated on that dating sight got so lucky so soon. Apparently, all they had to do was to compliment her and they'd have her in bed naked. "Oh, gees, sorry Mom. Favorite story? I don't know. There are so many," said Jason suddenly not only feeling uncomfortable that he was caught staring between his mother's legs at her panties but also that he was caught again, this time staring down her blouse at her cleavage and bra. Already so sexually aroused by their topic of discussion and by his mother inadvertently flashing him her panties and the impressions of her nipples, his mind reeled with passages he had written in his stories about having sex with her. How could he possibly pick just one story about having sex with his mother, when all of his stories about having sex with his mother were his favorite stories? Instead of being relegated to write incestuous stories about having sex with his mother, he'd give anything to have sex with his mother. Only, just as he knew all his stories were fiction, he knew he'd never have sex with his mother. Forget about having sex with her, he knew he'd never even see her naked. "It's alright, Jason. You can tell me," she said patting her son's thigh, before lightly rubbing it, and then leaving her hand there, in the way that he had left his hand, when patting her knee. With her hand just a mere few inches from the bulge his cock suddenly made in his jeans, he wished his mother would move her hand higher and touch him deeper. He wished his mother would touch and fondle his cock through his jeans, so that he could touch and fondle her breasts through her blouse and bra. Cock for tit, as his invitation to touch and feel her, he so wished his mother would touch and feel him first. "Actually, if I had to pick a favorite story, Mother," he said looking at her bright, green eyes, "it's always my latest story. The fact that I'm not able to finish this story is so frustrating. I don't know why, but this new story is as elusive as it is so very exciting to me to write. What gets in my way is..." "Yes? What gets in your way of you finishing your Nude Day story, Jason?" A mother's touch, encouraging him to speak, she gently rubbed his thigh in the way that he imagined her stroking his cock. "What gets in the way of me finishing my Nude Day story," he said looking down at her breast, before looking back up at her eyes, "is wondering what you look like naked. I'm having a difficult time imagining the image of you without your clothes." "I see," said Elizabeth looking from her son to look down at the floor, while biting her lip. "Honestly, Jason," she said pausing for a long moment. "I'm sorry, but I can't help you with that. That's just a bridge we can't cross," she said almost in a whisper, while slowly shaking her head from side to side. "It would be immorally wrong for you, my son, to see me, your mother, naked. It's one thing for me to inadvertently flash you my panties and for you to see the impressions that my nipples make through my blouse and bra, but I'm be so very embarrassed to be so nakedly exposed to you without my clothes." Even though his Mom was saying no to removing her clothes, her body language was saying yes. Just by the way she constantly touched her hair and how she fluttered her eyelashes and bit her lip, whenever he complimented her or when she revealed something so very personal to him, he could tell that she was thinking about posing naked for him. Needing to think of a plan, needing to come up with a way how she'd comfortably remove her clothes without her thinking that it was incest and that they were crossing the incestuous line, it was up to him to convince her why she should remove her clothes. If he could come up with a convincing enough argument, chances were good that he could get her naked. Maybe, along with a few compliments and his confessed need for some motherly comfort and affection, all it would take is a bit of alcohol and a valid reason why she should allow him to see her naked. Not knowing what else to say to get her naked, all he could do was to say what he felt. With that in mind, what he said was this... To be continued... Mom Strips Naked for Nude Day Ch. 09 Chapter 9 - We Can Embrace Incest "We can cross the incestuous line, mother, if we embrace it," he said taking her hand in his and kissing her fingers. When he kissed her fingers, he wondered where her fingers had been. Did she masturbate herself with these fingers last night or this morning? He subtly sniffed her fingers, while kissing them and while hoping to smell evidence of her musky aroma, her sexual scent, so that he could masturbate over that later, while sniffing his fingers, along with her panties that she had discarded in the laundry hamper. He imagined her fingers of one hand fingering her nipples, while playing with her clit with the other, before probing herself deeper with a long, stiff, manicured finger. He imagined her getting undressed last night with these fingers and getting dressed again this morning with these fingers. If only her fingers could talk, what an amazing story they'd tell about his mother's naked body. He wished his fingers were so lucky to touch her in all the places he imagined she touched herself with these beautiful, motherly fingers. "Embrace incest? How can we possibly embrace incest without crossing the line and having incestuous sex? I don't understand, Jason," she said looking at him with pleading eyes, as if asking him to help her to understand by coming up with a valid reason, so that she could strip naked in front of her son, before having incestuous sex with him. Never having used the word sex before in asking her to strip naked, that is until he called her a MILF, it was then that he realized, way ahead of him, that he was just talking about her removing her clothes and posing naked for him to write his Nude Day story and she was already talking about having sex with him. So that's the issue, then. Now he knew the real reason for her reluctance to strip naked. She's not struggling about getting naked. She's not embarrassed to show him her nude body. She's already past that point of no return of removing her clothes in front of her. She's struggling about having sex with her son. Obviously, she's already agreed to get naked in her mind. What her real issue, obviously, was whether or not she should have sex with her son. So transparent, as if he could read her mind, finally, he was shocked, albeit excited to realize, that his mother was a step ahead of him in thinking about having sex with him. Now knowing what she was thinking, he persevered in his argument for her to give him further proof to her thinking and for him to reach the first step, getting her to agree to strip naked. "Instead of thinking of incest as something dirty," said Jason baiting his hook and casting his line further out in deeper waters, where he hoped his mother was fishing. "Instead of thinking of it as incest, at all, we should more think of the artistry of the human body. Yes, rather than thinking of me, as your son, and you, as my mother, think of me, as an artist, Mom, and you as my model and as an expression of my art. Whether painting, sculpting, or writing, if you will and if you can, think of your naked body as an artist's tool to do his art." "An artist? Oh, Jason, you're just trying to bamboozle me into taking off my clothes in front of you," she said with a laugh, while stroking her hair again. "Nice try," she said with a sexy, green eyed look that melted his heart and hardened his cock. When she said 'taking off her clothes', perhaps in the sexy way she said it, he had a clearer image of her naked now. When she said 'taking off her clothes', in the way she touched her hair and in the way she looked at him, he suspected that she was imagining herself removing her clothes, before standing before him naked. Encouraged by her body language, encouraged by the fact that she was still sitting there listening to him trying to persuade her to remove her clothes, obviously, all she needed was a reason why she should and she would. Based on that assumption alone, by her embracing incest, as he already has, he was about to give her his reason how she could remove her clothes without all the guilt and without having to feel bad later that she had exposed her naked body to her son. "Not at all, Mom. I'd never trick you to get naked," he said, while thinking how better it would be for her to strip naked with the onus on her. He thought how much better it would be for her to voluntarily strip off her clothes and voluntarily have sex with him than to deceive her. For his first foray into the unexplored grounds of incest to work, removing the guilt of having deceived and used his mother, her stripping naked must be as much her idea, as it is his. Only, how does he do that? As much as he wanted to see her naked, he needs her to want him to see her naked. Only, how does he get there from here? It would be a bonus, if his mother wants to see him naked, too, as much as he wants to see her naked. It's one thing to persuade her to reluctantly remove her clothes, as a hesitant victim, and quite another thing for her to remove her clothes, as a willing participant. Instead of shamefully submitting, he needed her to embrace incestuous nudity as something that she was excited to do. For sure, instead of him kissing his mother, he'd love for his mother to kiss him. Instead of him groping his mother, he'd love for his mother to grope him. Instead of him being the aggressor, he'd love to somehow convince her to assume the role of the cougar teaching her cub how to make love to a woman, who just so happens to be his mother. "Then, I don't understand how we, as mother and son, can embrace incest without breaking the laws on the books in most states and countries," she said in seriousness and without laughing. Just by her not fleeing his room, just by the interest she showed in continuing their incestuous conversation, he could tell that she was interested in not only exposing her naked body to him but also in having sex with him. "Consider this," he said looking squarely in her green eyes, as if he was about to kiss her. "If I was an aspiring, struggling artist, one who couldn't afford to hire a nude model, and asked to paint you, my mother, in the nude, would you pose naked for me?" "Oh, Jason," she said curling her hair with her fingers again. "That's different." "If I was a talented but destitute sculptor and asked to sculpt the naked form of the woman that I loved the most, my mother, to express my artistry through my model, would you allow me the pleasure of sculpting your naked form? Sorry, that's the wrong word. Would allow me the professional courtesy to see you naked, so that I could experience my art through your naked body?" "I don't know what a painter and a sculptor has to do with you writing a Nude Day story called, Mom Strips Naked for Nude Day. Painting and sculpting are artistry and writing what you write is pornography," she said staring at him, as if she was getting aroused by the image that he gave her of being nude in front of him. "First of all, Mother. What I write is not pornography nor is it considered pornography. What I write is erotica and my stories are very erotic. As you already know in some of the books that you read, there's a huge difference between pornography and erotica. There's as much artistry in my words of expression and imagery, as there is images in a painter's painting and a sculptor's sculpture." "The fact remains, Jason, is that you're asking me to strip naked, so that you can write a better Nude Day story from seeing my naked body. The fact remains, Jason, that I'm your mother and you're my son." "I see," said Jason feeling her biting the bait and putting tension on his line of bullshit. "Yet, Mother, consider what I said about an painter, a sculptor, and a writer, wouldn't you classify us as all artists?" "Yes, I suppose, depending what the painter paints, the sculptor sculpts, and the writer writes," she said looking at him. "Don't you think that, by embracing art and artistic expression, that this is an interesting way for us to embrace incest without having us doing anything incestuously wrong or immodestly immoral?" Jason looked at his mother, while trying to read her. She was so difficult to read sometimes. He wondered, if he ever knew what she was thinking. Giving her his best argument for her to strip off her clothes, he hoped that he had convinced her. "Since you put the example that way, that is a rather good argument about you being an artist or a sculptor, instead of being a writer of erotic literature and my son. Actually, in both of those examples, as artist or sculptor, as would a doctor in an examining room, you can be an artist that sees me naked and still be my son, I suppose," she said, obviously thinking more seriously about his proposition, as her way to give her son what he needs, while taking what she wants from her son. "Being that I'm a writer, I am an artist, Mother," said Jason taking his mother's hand in his again. "With all of the mediums of artistic expressions, writing is just as difficult, if not more so, than painting or sculpting. Trying to describe something with my words is just as difficult as painting a picture or sculpting a statue." "Nonetheless, whether I consider you an artist or not, the fact remains that you're still my son and I'm still your mother," she said looking at him, while, no doubt, thinking of all that he just said. "In the realm of the creative world of artistry, we are merely a man and a woman first and a son and a mother later. Moreover, who better to model the story that I need to write than my mother?" "You do make a strong point, however, and probably, if you were, indeed, a painter or a sculptor, wanting to help you with your art and artistry, no doubt, I'd allow you to paint or sculpt me in the nude," she said looking squarely at her son without turning red and without speaking for a few moments, as if she was pondering what she was about to do. "So, what are you asking me to do?" Already knowing what he wanted her to do, no doubt, this time, her face flashed red, while her fingers played with her long lush hair, as if her fingers were making circles of delight in her son's pubic hair. To be continued...