48 comments/ 196313 views/ 48 favorites Mommy is All I Want For Christmas By: andtheend A mother gives her son what he wants for Christmas...her. My husband died at 47-years-old working the mines, a life I didn't want for my son. They said it was a mining accident that killed him but, if you ask me, it was no accident. It was murder and it was the men he worked with, the miners who murdered my Ray. Of course, I have no proof of that. The owner of the mine said that if I wanted to make trouble, he'd hold up his life insurance settlement, until after the investigation and after the trial, if there ever was to be a trial. Yet, there'd never be a trial because there'd never be an investigation or an arrest. The owner of the mine owns this town and nearly everyone in the town works for him, including the Sheriff. There's too much money at stake for trouble to shut down the mine's production, even for a day. The mine's owner has a history of making trouble disappear, no strikes, no complaining, and no trouble. He said that if I made trouble, it may be discovered that my husband committed suicide and there'd be no life insurance settlement, after all. Extorted to remain quiet, powerless to do anything, unable to afford an attorney to sue or a private investigator to investigate, I didn't want any more trouble. Now with no man in my life to support me and protect me and with no jobs here for me to get, I needed that life insurance money to leave this corrupt town and start my life over again elsewhere. With a lot of money at stake, the mine's owner didn't want me talking to the federal authorities, OSHA, and/or the Mining Bureau. Because of that, I feared they'd be coming after me and my son next, too, to permanently quiet me. So, I took the life insurance settlement and ran to where no one knew us. They didn't like Ray, after he married me. They were all jealous of him. Articulate and able to make them feel bad about themselves with his words, as well as with his fists, he was too outspoken, even more so, whenever the other miners said something inappropriate about me. He wasn't like any of them. He was different. He liked to read and write and he enjoyed reading the poems he wrote to me. He was attending classes at night to better himself and to get a better job, a job above ground, instead of below. We met at the library reaching for the same book. I was young and pretty then. Something those other miners would never understand, why someone like me would be attracted to someone like Ray. He was good to me. He was kind. When I turned my head in his direction, he kissed me. Love at first sight, it was that first kiss that sealed the deal. We married a few month later and have been together ever since. The other miners were all typical macho men. They were heavy drinkers and were rough and rude in their disrespectful treatment of women. Having grown up here, too, the women they married were just as crude as they were. They weren't the same caliber of man, as was my Ray. Ray had culture. Ray had class. Ray was sensitive to me and my needs. Ray knew how to treat a woman and he loved me, as much as I loved him. "I love you, Susan," he'd say multiple times a day. A day didn't go by that he didn't tell me that he loved me. When he left for work, as if it was his last time, in case he didn't come home, he hugged me and kissed me good-bye. "I love you, Ray," I said, in case that was the last time I'd see him. They were drilling a new mine shaft miles below the Earth and if something was to happen, this was the time for miners to be trapped and die. It was a dangerous job and even more dangerous, when drilling a new shaft. "I love you, Susan," he'd tell me every night and every night we'd make love, until he got so sick that all he could do was cough. Now that he's gone, I can't remember the last time we made love. It had been a while. He was so very sick at the end and I did all a wife could do to ease her man's pain. Having more difficulty suffering through their own little lives, I reminded his co-workers of a better life that was away from this horrible place and not within their grasp. If only for being contrary, it doesn't take much to be an outcast in a small mining town. The people who live here don't need an excuse to dislike you, to hate you, and to kill you. The quicker I leave of all of them and this dusty town behind, the better. If this had been a hundred years ago, a mining town with tents instead of houses and with transients straggling in hoping to make that one strike to make them rich, instead of small town folk, after killing Ray, they would have come for me, too. They figured, no doubt, because of me, that Ray thought he was better than the rest of them. Ray told me they said he thought he was someone special because his wife was so young and so pretty and because he was going to school to educate himself. All the other miners did is drink. All he had to do was to marry an outsider, one who was younger and prettier than their fat, ugly, and toothless wives and suddenly, even though he grew up here and knew these people all his life, he wasn't one of them anymore. With only two choices to make, one or the other, if he was no longer with them, then he was against them. Imbedded in their little lives and in their smaller minds, they were too petty and small to just leave Ray alone to allow him to live his life. He had something they wanted, but couldn't have and that was me. His life was the only thing they could take from him. Now that he's gone, I'm not safe here. Maybe it was because he wasn't suffering their misery anymore. Maybe it was because he was happy and they weren't. Definitely it was because they were all jealous of him being with me. They all wished it were them in bed with me sucking and fucking their cocks, instead of Ray. With all the coughing my Ray was doing and the pain he endured, he would have died soon anyway, as he already had evidence of Black Lung disease. He could have stayed home and filed for Workers' Compensation benefits, but he wanted to work, instead of hang around the house. Even with their respirators, most miners' life expectancy are, at least, ten years less than other folk, and worse if they smoke, too, as did Ray. Waking up coughing and going to bed coughing, he was always coughing. I stayed away from all of them, after my husband died fearing they'd rape me or worse kill me. Maybe being down belowground in the dark without the sun to lift their spirits made them a mad, mean mob of men. Down underground before sunup and not up above ground until after dark, some miners don't see the light of day anymore, until Sunday. It's a horrible job but a job that some wouldn't give up, even if they could, with their family being miners for generations. Maybe it was just this town. Even after I moved to another county, not afraid to use it, I kept a loaded shotgun in my bedroom. With the money I received from Ray's life insurance settlement, the money we had saved, his back pay, the retirement plan he had, and the vacation and sick time he had coming, I bought a small place of my own with a bit of land that I worked with my mule. Growing up poor, I was accustomed to hard work and living off the land. I could hunt and fish as good as any man. I ate what I grew and hunted, and I sold whatever was leftover. I didn't need anything that I couldn't get for myself. It was a simple life, but an honest one and I wasn't beholding to anyone, not even the bank, after I paid cash for my house with the proceeds from Ray's life insurance. Thanks to Ray, I still had enough money leftover that I didn't have to take a job. Instead, I supported myself. I made baked goods and knitted hats, gloves, and sweaters for the tourists who passed by here, before hitting the main highway. My corner lot was the perfect place for a little farm stand; they had to pass by here to get there. The money I made got me through the winters to do my knitting and preserving in readiness for next year's farm stand selling. Not all of us are hillbillies. Some of us are educated. Most of us can read and write. Yet, with everyone dying so young where we live, our next neighbor a few miles away, and lonely mothers left alone with their innocent sons and horny brothers left alone with their sexy sisters, sometimes a warm body is all we have to get us through a cold winter night, even if it is kinfolk we're rubbing up against. Loneliness is a terrible thing, especially when stuck in a small, chilly house alone during a long, hard, cold winter. For sure, things could be worse; we could have no one to rub up against. I always knew my son, Jim, was interested in what I was sometimes inadvertently showing. He was always looking and on those days he was as horny as I was, he'd leer. After Jim went off to college, I was used to walking around the house however I wanted, when it was just Ray and me. Admittedly, I'm human and I'm young enough to still have sexual thoughts, erotic impulses, and womanly feelings, wants, needs, and desires. It excited me that a young buck like him would be interested in an old lady like me, not that I'm old at 38-years-old but, compared to him, I am. He was always looking and watching for what he could see of me that he shouldn't be seeing. It was a dangerous game of incestuous we played and I wasn't so innocent in my thoughts towards him either. I'd masturbate to the thoughts of him taking me and pleasuring me, as I would him, if I had the chance. Only, that chance would never come. I was his mother and he was my son. Even though we didn't do anything more than think about doing something with one another, our mutual attraction started a year before Ray died, when he suddenly became ill. That was when we started looking at one another longer and harder with incestuous thoughts that started a smoldering fire. With the hustle and the bustle of the holiday season, while basking in the familiar sound of seasonal songs, our sexual attraction for one another escalated last Christmas. With all the Christmas decorations, the house looked so pretty and with the woodstove a glowing, it was warm and cozy inside. With the Christmas music playing in the background, we were both in a good mood, alone in a house we owned and away, finally, from that small town and those miners. There's nothing like a fire to get me in the mood for love. I used to love to cuddle on the sofa with Ray, while he'd caress my big breasts and finger my nipples, and I'd fondle his cock. I miss that intimate affection. For sure, I had such a horny hankering to get laid. Now that Ray was gone and buried in the cold ground, I had a horniness that I never felt before. It kept me preoccupied during the day and awake at night. Sexual frustration consumed me like a fever, but it was a fever that never broke and that never left me. Every morning I awakened hot for Jim and the only thing that stopped me from acting on my sexual thoughts, lustful desires, and sudden wicked urges was that I was his mother and he was my son. With no way of turning back after that and with incest being so prevalent around these parts, that's just one line I didn't dare cross. It was my first year without my husband and Jim without his daddy. It was just the two of us alone bracing against the howling wind that rattled the windows, swept in beneath the doors, and piled the snowdrifts high enough against the house that made us think we'd never see the light of day until Spring. We were both still fresh with the empty pain of grief and suffering with sorrow. Even though I asked him to go back to school, Jim decided to take a year off and not return to college in September. I admit that it was a Godsend to have him around the house during that first winter without Ray, otherwise I would have lost my mind with cabin fever. The grieving widow alone with her bad self and lonely thoughts every day, while filled with depression and sorrow, there's no telling I'd have done alone all winter long in that house without Jim there to help keep my mind occupied. At least I had my son, actually Ray's son, with me to talk to and to help me through my pain that came and went like the tide subsiding some days and flooding me with tears, as if a tsunami, the next. Jim was Ray's boy from his first marriage and I raised him, as if he was my own flesh and blood. I had been married to Ray for fifteen years, before he died. Ray was thirty-two-years-old and I was twenty-three-years-old, when we met. He had this head of thick, blonde hair, like Robert Redford, and deep blue eyes like Paul Newman. Now his son, a spitting' image of him, was younger and even more handsome. Ray said I looked like Kim Basinger, only prettier and, admittedly, I did back then, before I put on a few pounds. Not that I'm fat, just muscled up from all the hard work I've had to do plowing the field, baling the hay, and taking care of things that I needed to take care of without the help of Ray. At least I have Jim to help and he does, whenever he can, when he's not working. Ray was a big man, so strong and so healthy. I never thought someone like him would be so sickly with all the coughing he did later in life. With his appetite not what it used to be, he had lost a lot of weight. He was the shell of a man that he was before and, with his strength diminished, he suspected he had cancer from working the mines and being exposed to all the shit that's down there, but he wouldn't go see a doctor. A lot has happened in fifteen years. Now, Jim was 23-years-old and I was 38-years old and as we grew older together, I became more his big sister than I did his mother. Then, once he became a man, I was more his friend and confident, instead of his stepmom. We'd watch TV together, play a game, or just sit and talk, while having a drink, after supper. That was when I was starting to have strong, sexual feelings for my son. It just happened. After Ray died, we appreciated and needed one another more and consequently we did a lot of hugging and touching. As if the weather was cleansing away what was old and bad with pure, white snow and with us starting a new life, that first winter without Ray was an unusually bad winter and we received twice the snow we usually received. Two snowstorms a week was typical. Just as we shoveled out one, another storm hit us. We had so much snow, there was no room left to put the new snow. With the snow higher than our waist, and the snowdrifts even higher, we'd shovel a path, wide enough for us to walk through, so that we could get out to the barn to care for the mule and the other animals, and to woodshed to get wood for the fire. Now, snowbound and unable to go out, until the storms subsided, with us being alone so much of the wintertime, I feared our relationship was developing into something more forbidden. To be honest, especially on those days I was horny and hungry for a man's touch, I was hoping our relationship would develop more into a sexual relationship than a friendship. I was having impulsive desires and wicked thoughts that I never had before towards my son and that I never had for any man, but my husband. After losing Ray, with my son the only man in my proximity, I can't imagine myself without Jim in my life. He was my reason to continue. I take all the responsibility for what happened that Christmas Day so long ago. I'm not saying it was an excuse, but I was still grieving the loss of my husband and I was so very lonely and depressed that my bones ached and my mind wasn't right. Except for the bottle, Jim was the only comfort that I had, which I found myself needing a drink and a hug more then, than I ever did before. Just as the alcohol warmed me inside, it felt good to feel Jim's strong arms wrapped around me, holding me, and hoping by never letting go, he'd extinguish my pain. With my beasts flattened against his muscular chest, I could feel his stiffening cock pressed and pulsating against my soft belly and feeling his desire for me made me want him. Yet, I don't blame what I did on my grief and/or my drunkenness. I knew what I was doing, just as I knew what I had done was wrong. Because of the uncontrollable desire I had for my son, I only hoped that I didn't damage him against women. He's a trusting soul and he'd never suspect that his Mama was trying to seduce him, but I was. I was so lonely. I was so horny. On some days, just to feel the comfort of a warm, naked body, I would have had any man have their way with me, had there been one here, other than my son, yet, there was no one around for miles. I know it was wrong, but the sexual excitement of thinking about my son naked and inside of me got the better of my commonsense. I was exhausted and a basket case after the funeral and I asked Jim to sleep with me from that first night that I was alone with him. I know it was wrong but it was a temporary sleeping arrangement, I figured, that somehow became a permanent one. We slept in our clothes, at first, that is, until the months that passed warmed the weather and it was too hot during those humid, summer nights to sleep in much more than a bit of cotton. We didn't have air conditioning. I didn't have the money for that. I kept the windows open for the cross breeze and put the screens down to keep out the bugs. I slept in my nightgown and nothing else, and Jim slept in his underwear. Jim made money when there was work but, where we were living, a lot of folk were out of work and it was hard times for everyone. Luckily, we had plenty of food stored in the pantry to eat and enough firewood cut to heat the house come winter, again. Jim could split, cut, and stack a cord without breaking a sweat. He was just as strong as his Daddy. We'd make it through another winter, no doubt, without too much discomfort. I still had money left over from Ray's life insurance. Ray spent extra every week for a larger insurance policy, as did many of the miners, to make sure that their families were taken care of, should anything happen to them. He knew it was a dangerous job and chances are, he'd never make it out of the mine and mining alive. For sure, he knew he'd never make it to retirement age, too many don't. If it's not the mines that kill them, it's the drinking and the depression from never seeing the light of day. It's a miserable life being a miner and a miner's wife. It helped me just to know that Jim was there with me, protecting me, and making me feel safe. After Ray died, I couldn't bear to sleep in a bed alone. It was when I was sleeping alone that I really felt the loss of Ray. I was okay during the day but it was the night time, cold and lonely, that I felt the most pain. I thought about dating, but it was too soon and I couldn't even hold the thought of another man touching me and cumming in my pussy and/or in my mouth, other than my son. For sure, I'd let me son cum in me, if only he'd take me. Paralyzed with excitement by the thought of having sex with Jim, I was unable to make the first move. I had too much at stake to lose, being his Mama. He'd never trust or respect me knowing that I wanted him. I was still afraid those miners would come for me and take from me what they wanted, my body and/or my life, before leaving. Then, on those cold nights that we spooned and, with his arm wrapped around me and my ass pressed tight against his erection, it felt so comforting to feel his warm body pressed up against mine. I knew the inevitable would happen. I wanted it to happen. A starving woman hungry for a man's touch, I wanted him bad enough. Only, I needed for him to make the first move. I'd lay there, my back turned from him with my eyes open. My heart was filled with the lust that I haven't felt for any man, but Ray, that I now felt for his son. It was a forbidden lust that a mother should never feel for her son, even for her stepson, but I couldn't help the way that I felt. I was still suffering from the pain of losing my man and here was another in his image, only younger and stronger. I didn't possess the will to resist him, if only he'd take me. I'd willingly give myself to him, if only he'd make me. Mommy is All I Want For Christmas Jim would lay his arm across my stomach and wanting him to touch me, wishing he'd lift up my nightie and lay his fingers on my pussy that was already wet and aching for his touch, I could feel his cock hardening, before throbbing against my ass. The feel of him throbbing like that against me, so hard and so strong, I could imagine what his cock would feel like, if it was in my hand, buried in my pussy, deep up my ass, or inside my mouth. It excited me to believe that he wanted me, as much as I wanted him. I'd let him have me, if only he'd touch me and if only he'd take me. He needed to take me because I couldn't do it on my own. Falling in the dark abyss of incest, I needed for him to push me over the edge. If only he'd take what was rightfully his, his Dad's woman, now that his Dad was dead, his woman to have, that is, if he wanted me. I imagined pretending that I was sleeping, while he explored my breast, fingered my nipple, and lifted my nightgown up, so that I was totally exposed. There was a time when they did that, a brother being responsible for his sister, after losing her husband. If we lived during those times, when the west was wild and full of Indians, my son could have me, take me to protect me, if he wanted me, just as he could have me now, if he had the hankering to fuck me. I'd suck him, I would. Every night, I hoped that, when he got an erection, which he got one a few times a night, that his cock would slip out of his boxer shorts. In my feigned sleep, I imagined my hand accidentally brushing by his stiff member and touching it with my fingertips, while pretending I was drunk and dreaming about Ray and making him believe that I thought he was his Dad by calling his name. "Ray, fuck me. Make me cum. I need to blow you, Ray." Then, while knowing full well it was my son, I'd hold his cock in my hand, before taking his big dick in my mouth. I'd suck him, as if his prick was my personal pacifier. I imagined him taking advantage of me, when he figured I thought he was Ray. I imagine him wrapping my hand around his cock and moving his hips back and forth to make me give him a sleeping hand job. Then, pushing down on my shoulder, I imagined him making me give him a blowjob, with me still thinking that I was blowing Ray, instead of him. It excited me to think of my son forcing me and using me in that way. I'd let him, if he did. Yeah, he looks so much like his Dad that I could pretend he was Ray. That would work for me. A way for me to preserve my reputation, he'd be the guilty one taking advantage of his poor, grieving, half-asleep, drunken mother like that. Shame on him and not on me. Yet, how could I do that? Incest was so wrong, a lonely, horny mother having sex with her grieving, hurting son. I so wanted to reach my hand behind me to feel him, to stroke him, and to take him in my mouth to suck him, before allowing him to make love to me. With Ray so sick, it had been a long time since I had made love and here was this young buck of a boy/man/son with a hard cock in bed with me. I was filled with as much incestuous lust, as I was filled with a widow's sorrow. Yet, it was the incestuous lust that made me forget about my grief and I thank my son for doing that for me, even if only while vicariously imagining him fucking me, instead of him fucking someone else, a younger woman who wasn't a relative. A widow and her son, even though I never understood how an incestuous relationship could start before, I understood how it could now. I was living it every day that passed without Ray, while living with Jim. As if he were my drug of choice, he intoxicated me with his good looks, easy smile, and hard body. I couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to kiss him, really kiss him, French kiss him, while feeling his naked chest pressed against my bare breasts. I could nearly feel his hand reaching down to cup my ass, before pushing me back on the bed to make love to me. "Fuck me, Jimmy. Fuck Mommy. Fuck your mother. Make Mommy cum. Mommy needs to cum," I wanted to say, I wanted to tell him, but didn't. I would, if only I could. Instead, my dialogue would have to be different. "Jimmy, no! Please! Stop! I'm your mother. This is so wrong. Oh, please stop. You're ripping my clothes," I imagine protesting, before he filled my mouth with my cock and then filled my wet pussy with the full length and girth of him. During the night, when my nightgown climbed higher, I allowed it to go higher than my waist without pulling it down. My nightgown rising and being bunched up around my waist always woke me up and I always tugged it down before, when I slept with Ray. Now, that I slept with his son, my nightgown exposing me like that, as if this inanimate piece of cotton material could read my mind, made me horny to know that if he peeked beneath the covers, he'd have an eyeful. He'd see my naked body and it excited me to think of him ogling my ass and my pussy. Then, in the same way that Ray and I used to sleep, when I felt his hand on the side of my naked hip or his hand cupping my breast through my nightgown, even though he may have been dreaming about some young woman, I pretended he was dreaming about me. Sleeping like that, spooning in bed together, he made me feel that I was his woman and he was my man. I liked it, an understatement, when he touched me like that, even if he may have been dreaming about someone else. It was innocent on his part, no doubt, but for him to touch my skin like that or to cup my breast through my nightgown in that way, as if holding onto my breast comforted him, filled me with wicked thoughts and desires than it did with comfort. It took all the control I had not to undo the buttons of my nightgown top and have his hand slip inside to cup my naked breast. I was tempted, but I didn't. I would have loved to feel his hand on my bare tit, a grown son touching his mother was so taboo and I was so afraid. Fearing I'd prematurely ruin our sleeping arrangement, I didn't want to push him over the incestuous edge, before he was ready, that is, if he'd ever be ready to fuck his Mama and have his Mama blow her son. I didn't think he was touching me purposefully. No doubt, he was dreaming. I was just hoping he was touching me with as much lust for me, as I had for him. I pretended I was sleeping, while hoping he'd finger my nipple or touch me where I yearned to be touched between my legs. I was always so very wet when he spooned me with his hard, pulsating cock pushing up against my ass. Every night, I was so wet and so ready to be taken. I wanted him to fuck me and fuck me long and hard. Having him touch me in the way that he was innocently touching me now drove me wild with desire for him. It sure felt good for him to touch me like that, feeling his skin on my skin, whether he was dreaming or not. Maybe it was my hormones or because I was so sad grieving over the loss of my husband, or maybe I was just lusting over my son, but I wanted more. I wanted him. When we turned during the night and I spooned him, I rested my fingertips on his cock and, immediately, he got an erection. Then, the throbbing started and I could feel the head of his prick pulsating against my fingertips. I so wanted to reach inside his underwear, pull out his cock, and close my hand around it, while stroking him. Only, I didn't dare. It was enough that my fingertips were in contact with his cock. He was so big. He was so hard. Drunk anyway, I thought about feeling him through his underwear, while making believe I was dreaming, but I didn't. I couldn't. "Ray, I just love your big cock," I wanted to say, while pretending that I was drunk and dreaming, but I was afraid he'd see through that. I was crazy with incestuous desire for him. While spooning him with my fingertips in contact with his cock, I imagined his hand touching me between my legs, where no man has touched me in so long. I imagined him fingering my clit, before exploring me deeper and using his fingers, as if they were his cock. I imagined him forcing himself on me. I imagined him on top of me and holding me down by my shoulders and making me do what no mother should do to her son. I imagined him kissing my neck, before kissing my lips, and forcing my hand to feel his hard cock and to feel the passion he had for me. "No, Jim. Stop! This is wrong. Please, don't. Get off of me." It was more exciting for me to imagine him making me do dirty things to his naked body, a mother forced to satisfy her son, instead of a mother taking advantage of her son. Certainly, I'd feel better, less wicked, if it was his idea and not mine to fuck me and to force me to blow him. I'd feel better if, while experiencing him sexually, I could still preserve my motherly image and be able to scold him about what had happened later. "What happened last night, Jim, must never happen again. It will be our little secret," and just as I thought he understood, I imagine he'd pushed me back on the bed, rip off my clothes, and fucked me with all the passion that a son has for his mother. I imagined the both of us in bed together, while comforting one another without our clothes getting in the way. Some may think our sleeping arrangement was inappropriate but, in the beginning, it wasn't as sexual as it was for me now. It was just two people in pain grieving the loss of a loved one. It was just a mother sleeping with and comforting her son. Really, it was all so very innocent, surely it was, that is, admittedly so, it was probably more innocent for him than it was for me. I was the insane, incestuous cougar, who hungered for my son's cock. Now, that he's in bed with me every night, I'd fuck him, I would if I could, but how? I'm so afraid to ruin things by coming on to him. He'd think me a monster, if I revealed how much I wanted him and needed to feel him inside of me. He's all I have and I don't want to ruin the love that we have for one another. I'm so afraid that he'll sleep in the other room or leave my house and me alone altogether. The next morning was Christmas and horny from having him touch me in the way he did with his hand resting on my naked hip or his hand cupping my breast through my nightgown, while sleeping, I was already sexually aroused, an understatement. Preoccupied with the imagined thought of him naked and in bed with me, I was preoccupied with sexy thoughts and incestuous sex. I wanted to tease him. I wanted to make him want me, as much as I wanted him. I was so hungry for his cock that I wanted to see how far I could go to get what I wanted and so needed. Because it was Christmas, even though it was morning, we lit the tree and I put on some Christmas music. Ray bought me an ornament every year and I continued the tradition with Jim, buying him an ornament every year. We cut a beautiful tree from the woods behind our house and the smell of pine filled the whole room. After the coffee I made finished brewing, we took our cups in the living room to open our Christmas gifts. Last night, after we had a few Christmas Eve celebratory drinks, I purposely hung the mistletoe over the arch going into the kitchen and every time we passed by it, he'd have to kiss me. First it was a little peck he gave me and then it was a full kiss on the lips, but without tongues. I was hoping he'd slip me his tongue but he didn't, just as I was hoping, while hugging me, he'd reach down and cup my ass and pull me into him. I swear, I would have fucked him right there on the living room carpet, I was so hot and horny for him. To be honest, I found it a little peculiar that Jim didn't have a girlfriend. A good looking man like him could have his pick of women. I knew in the way he looked at me and by all the erections he got, hopefully over me, that he wasn't gay. I couldn't help but wonder if the reason why he didn't have a girlfriend was because he was in love with his Mama and was because he wanted me. A delicious thought to have, I knew it was just an incestuous fantasy. Still having that thought set the stage for the horny mood that I was feeling, after having Jim spoon me all night. I sat across from him, with him sitting higher up in his Dad's favorite chair, as if it was his throne and he was the newly crowned man of the house. He claimed his Dad's chair as his trophy, just as I was hoping he'd claim me, too. With me sitting down low on the couch, while opening my presents from him, with my knees opened just enough to arouse his curiosity but not his suspicion, I made sure I gave him a continual view of my panties. Never having flashed any man before, I was nervous. The thought that he could see my panties and knowing that he was looking between my legs, made me wet with desire for him and made me imagine him taking me and having his forced, wicked way with me. With my legs spread and my feet over his shoulders and resting on his back, the thought of him licking and fingering my pussy made me so horny. Whenever I leaned forward, I knew he could see down my open blouse, too. I knew he could see my bra and my cleavage and I could feel my nipples hardening with the imagined thought of him sucking them, pulling them, and twisting them. Even though I thought about it, even though I wanted to, I didn't have the guts to flash him my naked pussy. Besides, I couldn't flash him my pussy, unless I was in my nightgown and, now that I think about it, I should have stayed in my nightgown. I could have flashed him my tits, too. Had I given it more thought, I would have stayed in my nightgown and flashed him my pussy and my tits, but it was Christmas and I wanted to dress for the holiday. Now that I was dressed in my skirt and top, it would have been out of character for me to walk around the house without wearing panties. He'd think me a slut. He'd know I was flashing him on purpose. Still, it was hotly erotic to flash him my panties. I didn't have to look to see him staring at my panties, I knew he was looking. I could feel him staring between my legs, especially whenever I turned away to lean over and reach for a gift for him to open. Besides, he had an erection. Whenever I turned, I twisted at the waist and opened my legs a little wider, especially when I leaned to retrieve a gift from under the tree. I knew he was getting quite an eyeful of my panty clad pussy. Teasing him by flashing him, I was hoping that I was arousing him by having him see my panties, as much as I was aroused by flashing him my panties. No doubt, by the evidence of his obvious erection, I was arousing him, too. My first time doing something like this, I was feeling so wicked and definitely feeling that I was crossing the line of trust by doing something so wrong. I was abusing my authority, especially with him being my son, albeit stepson, but I didn't care. Once his Dad died, Jimmy walked around the house in his boxer shorts, something he never did before. If Ray were still alive, he'd never allow his son to disrespect me by walking around the house in his underwear. Only, Ray was dead and Jim walking around in his underwear was more erotic for me than it was disrespectful. Seeing him in his underwear made me want to walk around in my panty and bra, but I didn't. I couldn't. I couldn't help but notice that he had an erection. Morning wood, his Dad used to call it. After he opened all his gifts he stood and, still with an erection, with his cock nearly sticking straight out, parallel to my mouth, he made me uncomfortably horny. I was hoping his cock would just bounce out of his pee hole and hit me in my lip. God, if he bounced his cock off my mouth, I'd open my mouth and take him inside. At that point, I was so hot for him that I'd suck him dry, I would. The sight of his raging erection made me terribly horny and I wanted to rub myself to an orgasm. Even better, I just wanted to reach out and grab his big prick. I so wanted to feel his stiff, hard dick in my hot, little hand. I couldn't help but imagine taking his big cock inside my mouth and blowing him, sucking my own son, and making my big boy shoot the lust I know he had for his mother in my hungry mouth, before swallowing it all. Mesmerized by the motion of his cock, bouncing up and down and swaying side to side, as he walked closer towards me, he leaned down and gave me a light kiss on the lips, before giving me a big, bear hug. "Thanks for all the gifts, Mom." As he pulled away, stood, and turned, the fly of his boxer shorts opened. I saw his pubic hair and the side of his stiff prick. I so wanted to reach my hand inside and cup his balls, before pulling out his cock and stroking him. "Merry Christmas, son," I said. "Now for your real Christmas gift," I so wanted to say. I imagined myself falling to my knees in between his legs and blowing him. "Merry Christmas, son. Relax, while Mommy sucks your big cock." The partial sight of his big prick made me not only miss my husband but also made me hunger for his son. After seeing his partial prick, after figuring and hoping he had an erection from seeing my panties, if nothing else, I decided to flash him more. If nothing else was to happen, I could masturbate over the show that I gave him now, later. He had bought me a blouse and a short skirt for Christmas. The skirt was much shorter than I'd wear but, since it was a gift, I figured I'd wear what he picked out for the day, especially since I knew with a skirt this short that I'd be flashing him my panties with every movement. Even though I had taken a shower the night before, I needed another shower this morning to cool off. The shower was my excuse to change my soaked panties and my way to flash my son my naked body. It was a small house and we only had the one bathroom and while I was showering, he came in to pee, something he usually does. It was no big deal, as I was modestly hidden behind the shower curtain. Since I figured he'd be in to pee, I purposely left the shower curtain open enough so that, when he stood by the mirror to wash his hands, he'd have a clear view of me, so long as the mirror wasn't too fogged. So hungry for my stepson's cock, so wicked with incestuous thoughts to flash him, so that I could masturbate over all the I imagined he saw of me, when I heard him peeing, it took all the control I had not to peek at his pecker. "Since it's Christmas, Jim, as a special treat for you, I'm making you your favorite meal," I said lathering up my hair and putting my head down, while pretending that I didn't know he could see me and was standing there staring. I didn't have to look to know he was ogling my naked body. I could feel his lust. "Thanks, Mom, but you don't have to go through all that trouble." "I want to, Jimmy." "I can't wait. I'm hungry already," he said taking his sweet time washing his hands, as if he was a surgeon getting ready for surgery. Already practicing before, I knew, when he stood at the sink, he could see me in the mirror. I knew he was staring at my nakedness and knowing that he was staring at my naked body made me feel so wicked and bold. Crazy with incestuous lust for him, this was my time to give him a real show. It made me so aroused to know that he was staring at my tits and trimmed pussy, that I wanted to pull the curtain open and stand there for his prolonged inspection. "Oh, sorry, Jimmy," I imagined saying. "I didn't know you were still here. Please don't look at my tits and pussy. Can you be a dear and hand me a facecloth, I mean a towel?" Only, I didn't have the courage. Yet, knowing he was still at the sink and watching me in the mirror, instead, pretending to wash my feet, I turned and bent at the waist to give him a better look at my ass and a peek at my pussy lips. Then, when he left the bathroom, I masturbated over flashing him. Never have I masturbated as much, as I have since Ray died. I put on the skirt that he bought me and came downstairs with my blouse wide open, while buttoning it. I saw his eyes widen by the sight of my sheer bra and cleavage. I'm a full C cup and, already still excited after having masturbated over the show I gave him in the shower, I knew my nipples were making an impression in my bra and even in my blouse, once buttoned. Still with an erection, Jim was still in his boxer shorts. Mommy is All I Want For Christmas "Go get dressed, Jimmy." "My clothes are in the dryer, Mom," he said. "I forgot to bring them upstairs and I'm too lazy to go down and get them." "Go take your shower and I'll bring your clothes up to you." I went down the cellar and took my time folding his laundry. I wanted to time my presence in his bedroom with his exit out of the bathroom and his arrival in the bedroom. Only, when I was putting his clothes away, he surprised me. He shocked the shit out of me, actually. He walked in his bedroom naked using the towel to dry his hair, instead of using the towel to cover his nakedness. His beautiful flaccid cock and big, hairy balls were right there, only a few feet away from me. If I reached out my hand, I could almost touch them. If I fell to my knees, I could almost suck him. "Jimmy!" I couldn't help myself from blurting out his name. I was shocked. It's been years since I saw his prick and now, here it is. I couldn't help but notice how much bigger he was than his father. Not able to look away from his prick, I couldn't stop myself from staring at his dangling cock. "Sorry, Mom," he said. "I didn't know you were up here." It was then that I wondered if he was playing me, as much as I was playing him. Did he flash me his cock on purpose? Did he know I was in his room? How could he not know? It's a small house and he has a small room. He covered himself with his towel and I left his room closing the door behind me. After seeing his cock, I was so aroused that I needed a drink. I so wanted to suck and fuck him right there. I poured myself a stiff one, while thinking about his cock. I imagined my hand around his stiff prick stroking him and my lips around his hard prick sucking him. Damn, after seeing my son naked, I was so horny. Right now, right here, I'd fuck him, if I could and if only he would. Only, I'm his mother, albeit, stepmother but, by then, I really didn't care. I've known Jimmy since he was 8-years-old. Still, how could I do that? How could I have incestuous thoughts about him? How could I have sex with my son? I couldn't do that. A grieving widow, how could I sully the memory of my husband by abusing my relationship with his son? I was so horny, so lonely, and so sad that I didn't care. I needed a cock. I needed his cock. I wanted my son. The skirt he bought me was more a wide belt than it was a skirt. The skirt was so short that I knew when I sat across from him, he'd have a constant and continual view of my panties, which is why I wore the sheerest panties I had. I've always had nice legs. I'm proud of them and I like showing them. I still have a nice body, better than most women my age and younger. I knew the skirt was short enough that when I bent at the waist, he'd be treated to a good view of my ass, too. Ray always said I had a nice ass. My ass was his favorite part, but I'm partial to my tits. I love my tits and when a man takes the time to play with my nipples, is when I'll do anything he wants me to do. I spent a considerable amount of time picking up the living room, picking up the wrapping paper, and fluffing up the pillows on the couch, all the while bending over at the waist and giving him a display of my ass crack and my pussy lips through my sheer panties. Nearly see-thru, only cellophane covered less. I knew he could discern my trimmed public hair and maybe even my pussy slit, once I sat down across from him. I was hot thinking about him seeing me, touching me, licking me, and fucking me. Only, I knew that would never happen, especially not today, not on Christmas. "What do you think, Jimmy, how do you like the skirt you bought me, now that I'm modeling it for you," I said taking it by the hem and fluffing it up, before smoothing it down, when he looked over at me. Already having practiced the fluffing move in my bedroom, while sitting on the bed across from the mirror, I knew when I fluffed up my skirt like that, he could see all of my panties, before the skirt settled back down on my thighs. "I love it, Mom," he said with a wry smile by the panty flashing show I had just given him. He didn't have to say anything. His erection was saying how he felt for me. It made me terribly horny to know that I flashed him my panty and that he saw my panty. It made me terribly horny to think that he wanted me, too. I stood and twirled around, knowing full well that with him sitting in Ray's favorite chair and the skirt being so short and flared, that he'd see up to my waist with my spinning movement. "I love it, Jimmy. It's so comfortable," I said leaning down to return the kiss he gave me earlier. When he put his hands on either side of my hips, I so wished he put one hand beneath my skirt and on my panty clad ass and the other hand in between my legs and cup my pussy. I wasn't very good at trying to seduce him. I was running out of ideas on how to tease him. I mean, I knew he was aroused. He had an erection. I wondered if the erection he still had was from his early morning wood or was his erection from me teasing him. I flashed him my panties all morning long and I flashed him my bra, too, but, after flashing him my naked body in the shower, and having him expose his cock to me in his bedroom, I didn't know what else to do. Crossing the incestuous line would take more than teasing. It would take alcohol. Did I dare get my son drunk enough to have sex with his mother? For sure, I needed alcohol for me to take the next step. Maybe this is it. Maybe this is just as far as it goes with me flashing him my panties and allowing him to see me naked in the shower and him getting an erection and flashing me his cock. At least, we were still sleeping in the same bed. At least he's still spooning me with his erection in between my ass cheeks and his hand on my naked hip or cupping my nightgown clad breast. Then, when we turned, I rested my hand on his cock. That was enough for me to masturbate over later, while thinking of and hoping for more now. Maybe tonight, I'll unbutton my nightgown top and allow him to cup my naked breast. Maybe tonight, he'll finger my nipple in his sleep. Maybe tonight, we'll fuck. Still, it was no more than an insane, incestuous fantasy. Just as I knew he'd never make the first move and he'd never force himself upon me, I knew I'd never go through with having sex with my son either. Even though it was exciting to think about having sex with my son, it was frustrating because I knew it would never happen. It wasn't until I was in the kitchen needing a piece of paper to make a grocery list for New Year's Eve that I found Jim's school notebook. I opened it to steal a piece of paper and saw that he had a whole page of, 'All I want for Christmas is to have sex with my mother.' Disbelieving what I was reading, I read it again and again, 'All I want for Christmas is to have sex with my mother.' Oh, my God. I couldn't believe it. I was stunned. I gushed with excitement. I couldn't believe what I was reading. I was so sexually aroused that I was dizzy with the thought of having sex with my son. I read it over and again, 'All I want for Christmas is to have sex with my mother.' Every line had the same thing. 'All I want for Christmas is to have sex with my mother. All I want for Christmas is to have sex with my mother.' I counted them, 27 lines, and I read all 27 lines, just as I hoped he'd fuck me and I'd suck him 27 times. Are you kidding me? If all my son wants for Christmas is me, how could I deny him the sexual pleasure of me, when I wanted the same thing? It was Christmas, after all, and the least that I could do for my son is to give him what he so wanted for Christmas. Now that I thought about it, all I wanted for Christmas was my son, too. To discover that we both wanted the same Christmas present was something easy for fulfill. It took all the control I had for me not to run in the living room naked and rape him. My pulse was racing. My heart was pounding. Now that I knew he wanted me, as much as I wanted him, it was just to come up with a way of how to go about it without us looking like depraved hillbillies. Now, I knew that it was inevitable that we'd have sex. Only, how do I go about it? I didn't want to be blatant. I didn't want him to think that I'm the slut for his cock that he's turned me into. I know, that's it, I'll get him drunk. We'll both get drunk. Yeah, I'll use alcohol to seduce him and to use as my excuse, should things go terribly wrong. The thought of my son having sex with me made me dizzy with excitement and I lost my breath for a moment. Knowing that he wanted me as much as I wanted him, it was then that I decided to seduce him. My budget was tight and I really hadn't given him all that much for Christmas anyway, but if I could give him what he really wanted, me, and if he could give me what I really wanted, him, then this would be the best Christmas the both of us ever had. That night, I opened a bottle of wine to have with our Christmas dinner. Having a drink before dinner, a bottle of wine during dinner, and drinks after dinner, we were both pretty liquored up. It was a big step to have incestuous sex with my son and I couldn't do it without the bold, blind courage that alcohol gave me. Besides, should there be unpleasant ramifications later, the only way I could cover up my guilt is to blame the alcohol later. "You're going to have to help me upstairs, Jimmy. My legs aren't working so well," I said staggering, while bending at the waist to rub my thighs, while watching him stare again at my exposed panties. "Sure," he said standing. Jim is as big as his dad was, if not bigger. In one lift of his arm, he picked me up and tossed me over his shoulder. With my ass in the air and my skirt up to my back, I gushed with sexual excitement of him carrying me upstairs in such a caveman way. I imagined him stripping me naked, as I pleaded with him to stop. "No, Jimmy, don't. You're tearing my clothes. Please stop. This is so wrong." I imagined him spreading my legs and licking my pussy, while fingering me and playing with my clit, as I tried my unsuccessful best to push him away, before cumming in his mouth. Finally, I imagined him mounting me and fucking me, his own mother. I was crazed for his cock. "Jim no, please don't lick my pussy. Oh, my God. No, Jim, you shouldn't fuck your mother. It's wrong. It's incest." Lastly, I imagined him forcing me to my knees, pushing down on my shoulder, and trying to stick his cock in my mouth. "No, Jimmy, I won't suck your cock. I'm your mother and your my son." I imagined him grabbing me by my hair with one hand and pulling back my head, then pinching my nose with his other hand, so that I'd be forced to open my mouth to breath and when I did, he'd filled my mouth with his big, hard prick. Pushing my head back and forth with his big, strong hands, I imagined him forcing me to blow him. I imagined him not stopping, until he exploded all that he had in my mouth. Then, he wouldn't release me, until I swallowed all of his cum. Finally, free, crying, and slapping him, pretending that he forced himself upon me, when I'm the one who wanted him all along, he pushed me on the bed, slapped me, and fucked me again. Wow. "Jimmy! I'm all exposed," I said trying to reach around me to pull down my skirt. "Don't worry, Mom," he said patting my panty clad ass. "I can't see your panties from this angle," he said with a laugh. "Besides, I've been staring at your panties all night long, Mom." "Jimmy! You have?" I couldn't believe he patted my ass through the sheer material of my panties. I was so excited, that I wished he'd spank me. "That skirt is so short, Mom, that even when you sat with your knees tightly together, I could still see your panties over your thighs." "Jimmy! You're so fresh. I'm so very embarrassed. I can't believe you were staring at my panties. Oh, my and I just realized that I'm wearing my sheer panties. You must have seen everything I own." "I did, Mom," he said with a perverted laugh, "enough to know that you're a natural blonde." "Jimmy!" "Sorry, Mom," he said with a laugh. "I couldn't help myself from staring." He put me down in the bedroom and, as soon as he did, I threw my arms around his neck and planted one on his lips. "Merry Christmas, Jimmy. Thank you for such a nice holiday." He had his hands on either side of my hips and I could feel the impression his hard cock made in his pants, when pushing against my soft belly. Then, when he parted my lips with his tongue, I pulled away. After being so passive in his desire for me, he startled me by being so aggressive by giving me his tongue. I was shocked. I don't know why I pulled away, but I did. He surprised me. Now, with the touch of his tongue, this was real, surreal, actually. We were about to cross the incestuous line and it was an impulsive reaction for me to resist him. "Sorry," he said. "I guess I had too much to drink, too." "It's okay, Jimmy," I said. "We're both a little drunk and we're both still sad over Ray." We were both definitely more than a little drunk and when I fell back, I grabbed his arm and we fell back on the bed together laughing. "Jimmy," I said. "Turn off the light." "Why? I won't be able to see anything." "That's why I need you to turn off the light. I need you to help me off with these clothes," I said, "and I don't want you to see me. I'm too drunk and I don't want to rip the beautiful blouse and skirt you bought me." With the skirt already up to my waist and my neatly trimmed pubic hair on display through my sheer panty, I knew I was giving him a real eyeful now. He stared at my exposed panties before standing and turning off the light and I knew he could see my trimmed pubic hair, before dousing the light. Then, when he sat on the bed beside me, he rested his hand on my naked thigh. Touch me, I wanted to say. Feel my tit. Play with my nipple. Run your big hand up my thigh and cup my pussy, before pushing my panty aside and fingering me. I was already so wet with the thoughts of my stepson stripping me, seeing me naked, and touching me, that I would have sucked his cock right then and right there. First, he unbuttoned my blouse. Either he was so drunk that he was having trouble with the buttons or he was excited because he took his sweet time about it, as if he was totally enjoying the private striptease show. At that point, I would have given him a lap dance, if he asked me. As he was unbuttoning my blouse, I could feel his hands brushing by the sides of my bra clad breasts and it excited me, as if he was taking a feather to my forearms. "You're going to have to sit up, Mom," he said. He removed my blouse and I was sitting in my darkened bedroom with my stepson in my exposed bra. My nipples were already erect with the desire that I had for him. My eyes had already adjusted to the dim light and I knew he could see as much of me, as I could see of him. How wicked was I for having encouraged him to strip me? It didn't take much for my son to agree to undress his mother. With every movement, I could feel my nipples pushing against the thin fabric of my bra in anticipation of him seeing my tits, feeling my tits, and fingering my nipples. The thought of Jimmy caressing my tits and sucking my nipples filled me with incestuous passion for him. The moon was casting enough light that he had a clear view of my bra and I watched him staring at my cleavage before staring at the impressions my nipples made in my bra. "Close your eyes," I said, "when you take off my bra. I don't want you seeing my tits." "I can't see nothin', Ma," he said, lying. "It's too dark in here and I'm too drunk. Besides, I already saw your titties," he said with a laugh. "You did?" I punched him in his big shoulder. "When did you see my tits? How?" "When you were in the shower and I was standing at the sink washing my hands," he said with a chuckle. "The shower curtain was open a little, enough for me to see and I saw you in the shower. I saw everything, Mom. I saw your tits, your pussy, and your ass. You have a great body, Mom." "Jimmy!" I said punching him in the shoulder, again. "How could you peep at me, your mother, like that? I'm so embarrassed." "I'm sorry, Mom, but I couldn't help looking. You're so beautiful and seeing you naked made me horny." "I'm your mother, Jimmy, and--" "You're not my real mother. You're my stepmother. It's not the same." "Real mother or stepmother, I'm still your parent. The fact that we live in the same house together is incest for you to have sexual thoughts about me, Jimmy." "I'm sorry, Mom." "Is that why you came in your bedroom naked?" I needed to know, if he had flashed me on purpose. "Were you hoping I'd be there and you'd flash me your cock." "No, Mom, I wouldn't do something like that," he said but I could tell he was lying. "Be honest with me Jimmy." "Okay, sorry, Mom, but after seeing you naked in the shower, I was so horny that I wanted to flash you my cock, so that I could masturbate over you seeing me naked later." "Have you masturbated over me?" "God, Mom. This is embarrassing." "Don't be embarrassed. Tell me." "Yes." "Were you expecting me to touch you and to masturbate you?" "I don't know, Mom, I'm uncomfortable talking about this with you." "Tell me. I want to know." "Yeah, maybe I thought about you masturbating me." "You were hoping I'd blow you, weren't you?" "Mom! Really, this is too much." "Be honest. Tell me." "Okay, I've fantasized about you blowing me." "Well, put those dirty thoughts out of your mind because that will never happen. I'm your mother and you're my son." All that went through my mind is Jimmy masturbating over me, while writing, 'All I want for Christmas is to have sex with my mother,' and thinking of me on my knees blowing him. His Mommy is all my son wants for Christmas. I still couldn't believe it. If it wasn't for me seeing that written in his notebook, I never would have had to courage to do what I was about to do with my son. "Well, thank you for being honest with me now, Jim, but that was wrong for you to be peeping at me, just as it's wrong for you to be having sexual thoughts about me." I still needed for him to make the first move. I needed him to think that it was all his idea. With Jimmy struggling to unhook my bra, we stayed quiet. "Sorry, Mom, but I'm having a hard time unhooking your bra. What is it with men and bras? Men can fix anything, but can't unhook a simple bra. Is it that they are so excited with the sexual anticipation of seeing tits that they're suddenly all thumbs? With him leaning over me like that, I just wanted to kiss him, before grabbing his cock through his pants. Still, I needed for him to think that this was all his idea. I couldn't have him thinking that this was my idea and that he seduced me. I needed for him to force himself upon me. Not only would that relieve me of my guilt but that would be such a turn on for me. Yeah, for sure, I wouldn't mind if he forced me to do dirty things, while pretending it was all his idea. "So do you really think I have a good body?" "Are you kidding, Mom? You're hot. You're a MILF." "A MILF? What's that?" It made me excited that my son thought his old Mom was a MILF. "Oh, sorry Mom." "Why what is it? Is that something bad? What does MILF mean? Tell me," I said knowing full well what it meant. "It means a mother I'd like to fuck." Even though I couldn't see his face clear enough in the dim moonlight to see him blushing, I knew he was by what he just said. Without him realizing it, he just admitted that he wanted to fuck me, his mother. Besides, he wrote an entire page in his college notebook that 'All I want for Christmas is to have sex with my mother'. As if I was Mrs. Claus able to grant my son his Christmas wish, I was about to give my son the best Christmas gift he ever had. Me. Mommy is All I Want For Christmas "So, is that it? You'd like to fuck me? Is that it? You want to have sex with your mother?" "No, Mom, sorry, I didn't mean anything by that." I was tempted to tell him that I saw what he wrote in his notebook, but I feared ruining my chances of having sex with my son. While Jimmy still struggled with my bra, I wasn't about to help him, we didn't talk again. I was thinking of what to say to make him want me. I mean, I knew he wanted me, but I needed him to act on his wants and desires. "What if we weren't stepmother and stepson? What if we were total strangers? What if you saw me in a bar and took me home? What if you had picked me up tonight with both of us a little drunk and we met for the first time, would you--" "Mom! Stop. No, I can't go there," he said stop trying to unhook my bra. He already had two hooks undone and just had one more to go. "Even though I want to and even thought I thought about what it would be like to be with you sexually, now, that you're sitting here in your bra, it's just wrong." "C'mon, you're the one who brought it up. We're not doing anything but talking. We're just supposing, if I weren't your mother and you weren't my son." "Yeah, talking as I'm trying to unhook your bra, Ma," he said laughing and making me laugh. "Tell me. I want to know. If we were in a bar and met for the first time, would you pick up an old broad like me or would you encourage me, if I was coming on to you?" "I dunno, Mom. Yeah, sure, I guess. I would. Definitely, I'd pick you up and I'd encourage you, if you were coming on to me," he said. "Look at you. You're hot. I'd throw you a bang." "You'd throw me a bang? Gees, thanks. You're so romantic, Jimmy," I said laughing and making him laugh, too. Finally, as if he just cracked a safe, he unhooked my bra, pulled the straps from my shoulders, and pulled the bra cups away from my breasts. In feigned modesty, I covered my naked breasts with my hands. The treasure he was hoping to find, my tits were right there in front of him, only inches away from his horny hands. With the anticipation of his fingers and of his mouth, my nipples were the hardest they've even been. "You're going to have to stand so that I can take off your skirt, Mom." "Okay, but hold on to me, so that I don't fall," I said removing my hands from my breasts to stand and watching him staring at my exposed tits. "Hold on? Where?" He laughed. "Here?" He grabbed a handful of my breast and I slapped his hand away. "Jimmy! Fresh," I said, while laughing. I couldn't believe my stepson just grabbed my tit. I couldn't believe that I was standing there topless in front of him. I couldn't believe I was hoping for more. I couldn't believe I wanted to suck his cock and fuck him. It felt good to feel his palm slide across my nipple, when I slapped his hand away. He unbuttoned, unzipped, and pulled down my skirt. Then, he rolled down my panty. Oh, my God, to feel his fingers on my skin, on my naked ass, and on my thighs was wonderful. I was so wet standing there naked in the moonlight. He could see as much of me, as I could see of him. As soon as I was naked, he pulled me to him and wrapped his big hands around my naked ass. I was about to push him away and lean down and kiss him, until I heard him crying. I could feel his tears wetting my stomach. "I miss Dad, Mom," he said. Not a good time, Jimmy, I wanted to say to bring up your father and my dead husband with me in the bedroom naked with your head pressed against my stomach and your mouth so close to my pussy. Not how I had planned tonight unfolding, our night of incestuous love turned into more an evening of grieving comfort. "I know, I miss Ray, too, Jimmy." I stood like that for a few minutes, with his big arms wrapped around my body, his head buried against my stomach, and my big breasts resting on his head. "I'm sorry," he said pulling away from me with his big hands and fingers sliding across my naked ass. He wiped his eyes, while taking in my nakedness. "C'mon, let me get you ready for bed," I said. "Okay," he said. I pulled his tee shirt over his head and then got down on my knees and in between his legs to unbuckle, unbutton, and unzip his pants. All I could think about was all the times I was in this same position, while giving Ray a blowjob and now I so wanted to give his son one, too. "Well, stand up, so I can take off your pants." "When I pulled down his pants, his boxer shorts came with them and his cock nearly poked me in the eye. "Gees, Jimmy, you have an erection. Careful with that thing, you almost stuck your cock in my mouth," I said laughing and wishing he would. "Sorry, Mom," he said laughing. "Is this exciting you, Jimmy, being in the bedroom naked with me?" "Yes," he said with a quivering voice. "Sorry, Mom," he said putting a hand on his erection to cover his hard cock. "Did I do that to you?" "Do what?" "Give you an erection?" "No, uhm, I'm just horny, I guess. I'm sorry." I embarrassed him. With his pants and shorts down around his ankles and his cock pointing straight up in the air, he sat back down on the bed and I pulled off his pants, shorts, and socks. His cock was so big that, in the moonlight, it cast a shadow against the bedroom wall. I so wanted to just sit on his stiff prick. Instead, now with the both of us naked, I pulled down the bedspread, blanket, and sheets and fell into bed. "Sorry, Jimmy, but I'm too drunk and too tired to put on my nightgown," I said. "Besides, it's suddenly so hot in here." I was hot alright, hot with desire for him. "Let's just go to bed like this. Okay?" I was hoping he'd said yes and he did. I was hoping, when he spooned me, he'd bone me from behind and fuck me, really fuck his mother, while feeling my naked breasts and fingering my erect nipples. "Okay," he said breathlessly, obviously just as excited as I was. I couldn't believe I was in bed naked with my stepson. We both stayed on our backs staring up at the ceiling. Afraid to turn on my side and position my ass against his stiff prick, fearing what may happen next, it was now or never. "Thank you again for giving me a nice holiday, Jimmy," I said turning to him with my breasts resting on his forearm and planting another kiss on his lips. This time, I allowed him to part my lips and kiss me, while exploring the inside of my mouth with his tongue. This time, I returned his French kiss and when I did, he pulled me closer to him. My breasts were pressed against his muscular chest and I could feel his cock pulsating against my soft belly. I surrendered him my tongue and allowed him to French kiss me over and again. I was French kissing my stepson and it felt so good. The more I kissed him, the more I wanted to kiss him. Never could I remember being so wet and so ready to be fucked. Then, I felt his big hand cup my breasts. My tits were big enough to fill even his big hands. When he ran his palm across my nipple, it responded and I felt even more desire for him. Suck it I wanted to say. Suck Mommy's nipple, Jimmy. Take Mommy's big tits in your mouth. When I turned and ran my hand across his muscular chest and held him by his shoulder, I could feel his hard cock poking my belly. Then, I felt his hand reach around me and cup my ass. Oh, my God. With his hand so big, he made me feel so small and powerless against his lust for me. "Take me Jimmy. Fuck me, Jim. Fuck Mommy," I wanted to say, but didn't. I stayed quiet instead, while kissing him. He pulled my body so close to his that I could imagine him being inside of me and filling me up with his big cock. "I love you, Mom." "I love you, too, Jimmy," I said wrapping my arms around his neck and hugging him. My tits were flat against his chest, with the edges of them spilling out over the sides of me. It felt good to hug him naked, as if we were lovers about to make love or after just having make love. I don't ever remember being as excited. "No, that's not what I mean, Mom." "What do you mean, Jimmy?" I removed my arms from his neck and pulled away to look at his face. Cupping his jaw, I put my hands to the side of his face and stroked his cheek, before lightly kissing his lips. I knew full well what he meant because I felt the same way. He loved me and I loved him. We were so vulnerable and had come together over the loss of my husband and the death of his father, but what did it matter? "I mean, I love you in the way that a man loves a woman." "Oh," I said. My heart skipped a beat and I stopped myself from telling him that I love him in the way that a woman loves a man. His confession of love reinforced how wrong this was. Was I a mother taking advantage of her grieving son or was I a mother looking for some modicum of pleasure to help her to grieve? Or was my son taking advantage of me? What did it matter? It didn't matter. we were together now and all I knew was that this felt too good to be wrong. "I'm sorry," he said. "I feel like a pervert, now, a son lusting over his mother. This is so wrong, Mom, being naked in bed with you, while making out with you. Only, I can't help it, Mommy. You make me so excited. You make me feel so good. When I'm not thinking about you, I'm masturbating over the thoughts of having sex with her and now--" "It's okay, Jimmy," I said giving him a motherly hug. "We've both been through a hard time and if this is how we can find comfort, no one needs to know how we find that comfort and what we do behind closed doors," I said reaching down and taking his cock in my hand. "Oh, Mom," he said looking down at his cock in my hand. "I can't believe you're touching me, holding me in your hand, and stroking me. It feel so good Mommy." Slowly, I stroked my son's cock. He was so big and so hard and I couldn't wait for him to fill all the places where I needed my son's cock the most to fill. "Maybe just this one time, Jimmy, we can give one another some comfort to make us both feel better and to help get us through our loss." "Oh, Mommy," he said kissing and kissing me. "Yes, Mommy, yes, just this one time. That's it. Just once." Still holding his prick in my horny hand, his kisses were making me so hot. I stroked his cock faster still, while returning his kisses and revealing the lust that I had for him. His kisses blanked my mind and all that I could feel was the incestuous lust that I had for my son. I was on fire. After all our teasing and flashing I couldn't believe I was giving Ray's son, my stepson, a hand job. I felt his hand cupping my breast again and his fingers fingering my nipple. Oh, my God, that's right baby. Those are Mommy's magic buttons, twist and pull my nipples and I'll suck and fuck your cock. I was so ready to blow my son. I was so ready to fuck my son. It was as if we both had given one another permission to have incestuous sex. He leaned his head down and took my nipple in his mouth, as I slowly stroked his cock and reached down to cup his balls. Even though it was cold outside, I was suddenly so very warm. I was sizzling hot. I kicked off the covers and lowered my body down and took him in my mouth and when I did, he took my head in his big hands and covered my ears with his palms. I couldn't wait to blow my son. Strangely surreal, by him blocking my sense of hearing, my sense of taste and touch were heightened just at the right time of having his cock buried in my mouth, while stroking him faster with my hand. I had been dying to suck my stepson's cock and now was my chance to do just that. "You have a beautiful cock, Jimmy," I said briefly removing his cock from my mouth to speak. "Oh, Mom. I can't believe your blowing me." "You don't want me to blow you, Jimmy?" I removed his cock from my mouth again. "I can stop." "No, Mom, please. Are you kidding me? I want you to blow me. I love seeing you with my cock in my mouth. It makes me so excited. Please, Mom. Suck my cock, Mom. Suck it, Mommy," he said putting his big hand to the back of my head. "Like this," I said looking up at him and removing his cock to speak, before taking it again in my mouth, but raising my chin to show him that I was sucking him. "Yes, Mom, just like that." He humped my mouth and fucked my face, as soon as I took him in my mouth again. I cupped his balls while sucking him and stroked him even faster with my other hand. Even though I wanted him to cum in my mouth, even though I wanted to swallow his cum, I needed him to fuck me first. I needed to be fucked and fucked hard. I needed for my son to fuck me, as I've never been fucked before. Definitely, I'd suck him off later. "Easy Jimmy," I said removing his cock from my mouth to speak. "You're gonna knockout my teeth," I said with a laugh. Then, I raised my body up to meet his lips. We kissed and never have I kissed a man as much and never have I been kissed by a man as much. I straddled him, before reaching down and inserting his stiff prick in my wet pussy. He was so long and so thick that he stretched me, but his cock was the perfect fit and immediately, I felt alive with sexuality and sensuality. It was then that I knew my son was about to give his mother the fucking of her life. "Oh, my God, Mom, that feels so incredible. You are so wet and so warm. I love your pussy, Mommy." "Fuck me, Jimmy. Fuck your mother. Make love to Mommy." He was just as hot calling me Mommy as I was hearing him calling me Mommy. "I love you, Mommy. I love your tits, Mommy. I love your pussy, Mommy. And I love your ass, Mommy." I love dirty talk in bed and I encouraged him for more. "Tell Mommy what else you love, son." "I love sucking your big tits, while you stroke my big cock, Mommy. I love when you blow me, Mommy. My cock belongs in your mouth, Mom," he said tracing my lips with his index finger and when he did that, I licked his finger, as if it was his cock. "I love it when you call me Mommy, Jimmy." "I love it when you call me son, Mom. Call me son," he said. "Okay, son. I love it when you call me Mommy, son, my baby boy. Fuck your mother, son, make her cum. Then, I'll give my big boy a special Christmas gift." "What's that, Mom?" "I'll give my son the best blowjob he's ever had," I said leaning up to whisper my words in his ear before sticking my tongue inside and licking him. "Can I cum in your mouth, Mommy?" "Of course, son. Mommy wants her little boy to cum in her mouth." "Will you swallow my cum, Mommy?" "It wouldn't be a proper blowjob without me swallowing your cum, son." He fucked me with all the passion I'd expect from a son lusting over his mother, while hoping for the best blowjob of his young life, afterwards. Just as I fucked him with all the incestuous desire of a mother taking advantage of her son, he fucked me with all the incestuous lust of a son, who had been masturbating for years over the thoughts of having sex with his mother. I rolled him over and mounted him. With my big tits flopping around, he finally harnessed with his strong hands. Now with his cock inside of me at my preferred angle, I had an orgasm. We collapsed in a sweaty mess and, while still holding and fondling his diminishing erection, I took some time to relax in the glow of the pleasure he had just given me. Then, I eased my body down half the length of him and took his still semi-hard penis in my mouth. I could taste myself on him and the taste of me on his big cock excited me more. Immediately, my mouth made him hard and he played with my hair, as I devoured his cock. "Oh, Mom, that feels so good. Blow me, Mommy. Suck my cock, Mom. Make me cum, Mommy." Never have I sucked a man's prick in the way I was sucking my son now. It was huge turn on for me to hear him call me Mom and Mommy, while his cock was in my mouth. In the blowjob I was giving his son, Ray should have only been so lucky. In fifteen years of sucking my husband's cock, never have I sucked his cock in the way that I was now sucking his son. Oh, my God, I just couldn't get enough of Jimmy's stiff prick. He was so hard. It didn't take long for Jimmy to exploded in my mouth. Just before he did, he put a hand to the back of my head and made me take his cock in deeper. Then, he exploded. There was so much cum that I swallowed three times, before I got all of him down my throat. "I love you, Jimmy. Merry Christmas, son," I said finally able to talk. "I love you, too, Mommy. Merry Christmas, Mom." Even though Jimmy is married and has given me three beautiful grandchildren. We still comfort one another ever Christmas. Our little secret, it's out little family tradition. He fucks his mother and I blow my son.