A Lonely Mom, a Horny Son, and Xmas

He imagined himself in bed with his mother. Yet, the last thing he'd want to do was to sleep. He imagined his left arm wrapped around her and his horny, left hand in contact with both of her abundant breasts. He imagined his erect prick throbbing and pulsating while pressed against his mother's firm, round, and shapely ass.

Then, as soon as she fell asleep, taking sexual advantage of her, he imagined touching her and feeling her shapely body everywhere through her thin, satin nightgown. He imagined feeling her big, nightgown clad tits and her nightgown clad ass. He imagined sticking his hand down the front of her nightgown to feel her naked tits while fingering her erect nipples. He imagined lifting the back of her nightgown to feel her naked ass and finger her naked pussy.

"Oh, Anthony, you're such a good son, too good to be true. I only wish it was that simple but," she said as if changing her mind in mid-sentence, she paused. "Actually, yes, now that I think about it, you sleeping with me may help me to sleep. In the way that I used to comfort you when you wanted to sleep in Mommy's bed after you had a nightmare, now you can comfort me by sleeping with me just until I fell asleep," she said unembarrassed and unashamed.

# # #

As shocked as he was sexually excited, he couldn't believe his mother agreed to allow him to sleep in her bed with her. With him sleeping with his mother, even for only an hour and until she fell asleep, was his foot was in her bedroom door. More than that, forget about his foot in her bedroom door, his entire body would be in her bed.

Only, instead of leaving while she lay sleeping, he'd stay. Something he only imagined doing in his incestuous fantasies of him in bed with her, as she slept soundly, he imagined not only holding her, hugging her, cuddling her, and spooning her but also touching her and feeling her everywhere. While hoping not to awaken her, he'd be trying to have sex with her.

"That's great," he said sexually excited by the thought of sleeping with his mother.

As if she wanted to sleep with him as much as he wanted to sleep with her, she shared his look of sexual excitement with her look of sexual arousal. Perhaps, sleeping wasn't what his mother had in mind but sex instead. Only, his mother wasn't an incestuous whore in the way that he was an incestuous pervert. He couldn't imagine her sexually wanting him as much as he sexually lusted over her.

"I'd like that very much," she said. "You holding me, hugging me, cuddling me, and spooning me in the way your father used to do is just what I need to get a good night's sleep." Then, she said something that floored him and set his sexual imagination on fire. "If you don't mind me doing so, it would help me sleep to pretend that you're him," she said immodestly, immorally, and sexually seductively. "If it's okay with you, I'd like to pretend that you're your father."

'What? Huh? What did she just say?'

He couldn't believe what she said. He couldn't believe what he heard. She wanted to pretend that he's his father, her ex-husband.

'It would help her to pretend that I'm my father. What did she mean by that,' he thought? 'Did she mean sex?'

As if he was her husband instead of her son, he wondered if his mother was thinking about having sex with him in the way that he was thinking about having sex with her. He wondered if she was as sexually attracted to him as he was horny for her. He wondered, when in bed with his mother, if she'd allow him to more than just hold her, hug her, and spoon her but also touch her, feel her, and fondle her.

He wondered if she'd allow him to feel her big tits and finger her erect nipples. He wondered if she'd allow him to feel her ass, fondle her ass, squeeze her ass, and slap her ass. In the way that he'd love her to masturbate him, he wondered if she'd allow him to masturbate her. He'd love nothing more than to finger his mother's cunt while she stroked his prick. Not stopping there, with them already in bed, perhaps, she'd allow him to make love to her before fucking her while pretending that he was his father.

Not even in bed with his mother and he was making himself crazy with incestuous, sexual thoughts. Maybe his mother didn't want sex, especially not from him, her son. Maybe she just wanted sleep. With him already having an incestuous, sexual affair with his mother mapped out and planned in his horny mind, he was setting himself up for disappointment. No doubt, instead of having sex with her, while she lay sleeping, the best he'd do is to rub his pajama clad cock against his mother's nightgown clad ass while copping cheap feels of his mother's nightgown clad breasts.

"Let me know when you're ready for bed and we'll go upstairs together," he said.

Instead of sleeping in his clothes, he'd wear his pajama bottoms but without underwear. He hoped his mother wouldn't wear a long and heavy, flannel nightgown to bed. Instead, he hoped she'd wear her short, sheer, low-cut, black lace, sexy nightgown, the one she always packed when going away with his father. Leaving nothing to the imagination, that nightgown showed everything. He loved masturbating to the thoughts of his mother coming to him while wearing that sheer and sexy nightgown.

"Okay," she said finishing the rest of her wine.

As if she was a drunken sailor, she was still flashing him her panties. Only, this time, her knees were spread even wider apart. He not only could see his mother's white panties but also, he could see her pussy mound, her pussy slit, her camel toe, her darker patch of blonde pubic hair, and a few stray hairs that peeked out of her panties. With him having a fetish for his mother's panties and for his mother's pussy, she was giving him a real panty clad pussy show.

'Is she deliberately flashing me her panties? Is she sexually teasing me? Is she incestuously enticing me? If I wasn't horny enough before, I'm even hornier now from seeing so very much of my mother's panty covered pussy,' he thought. 'I love her panties. Much more sexually exciting when she's wearing them instead of them being stored in her lingerie drawer, it's much more sexually exciting when she's flashing them to me.'

Careful not to catch him leering, he looked at her while staring at her exposed panties. Eager to go to bed with his mother, he was ready for bed.

"Actually, Mom. I'm tired. I'm ready for bed now," he said standing, stretching, and yawning.

She yawned with him.

"This wine is making me sleepy. I'm ready for bed too," she said yawning again.

She stood and carried the wine glasses and the empty wine bottle to the kitchen. She threw out the empty wine bottle, rinsed the glasses, and left them upside down in the strainer to dry.

'I can't believe I'm about to sleep with my mother in her bed. I can't believe she agreed to sleep with me,' he thought. 'She wants to pretend that I'm my father, her divorced husband. I can do that.'

He stared at his mother's shapely buttocks while she stood rinsing their wine glasses in the sink.

'I can't wait to hold her, hug her, and spoon her. I can't wait to feel something of her that I've never felt, always wanted to feel, and shouldn't feel. I'll be masturbating over this night for the rest of my life. The best Christmas of my life when sleeping with my MILF of a mother, I'll never forget this Christmas for as long as I live,' he thought.

# # #

Samantha readied herself for bed while Anthony undressed in his room. Wearing pajama bottoms without underwear, he experimented in his bedroom mirror as to how he could make his cock pop out of his pee hole without touching it with his hand. Moving one way before moving the other way, he tried making his pee hole bigger by stretching it with his hands. In the way his mother had been flashing him her panty clad pussy all night, he couldn't wait to flash her his naked, erect prick.

Obviously, a telling sign, feeling as sexy as she must have felt horny, Samantha wore a sexy nightgown for her son that she never got to wear for her husband. A gradient pink, blue, and violet pastel, the nightgown was as sheer as it was beautiful. Already looking to see what he could see of his mother's naked body, it parted in the front in the way of a sarong.

It had one peek-a-boo button at the top keeping it somewhat closed until she walked or moved. It looked more like an oversized wrap around cape with two holes for her arms and a hole for her neck than it looked like a nightgown. It more looked like something she'd wear over a nightgown. If ever she wore this outside on a windy day to retrieve her newspaper, her nightgown would blow open and fly up like a kite in the wind.

Unless she held it closed with her hand, as if she was wearing a hospital gown backwards, when she walked, it fell wide open. Unless she held it closed with her hand, it exposed her naked body to his horny eyes. Unless she held it closed with her hand, she'd be giving him quite the naked show of her beautiful body.

Obviously or perhaps obliviously, she was ready to show him as much as he was hoping to see of her naked tits and naked pussy. With him a voyeur, seemingly, the perfect, sexual pair, and judging her by how often she flashed him, his mother was an exhibitionist. Yet, tonight, turning the tables on her, after she flashed him her panty clad pussy all night, he was ready to flash his mother his naked prick.

"Mom?" Anthony lightly knocked on her bedroom door. "Mom? Are you decent? May I come in?"

With his mind reeling with sexual excitement of sleeping in the same bed with his mother, he hoped she wasn't decent. He hoped she wasn't wearing a long, flannel nightgown to bed. Hoping beyond hope while imagining that she was, not knowing what to expect, he hoped she was naked. He hoped she slept in the nude. He hoped she'd be standing there naked when he opened her bedroom door. He hoped she'd open her bedroom door without wearing anything but a big, sexy smile.

'Oh, my God. I'd love to see my mother naked,' he thought while giving himself an erection. 'I'm making myself crazy, yet how hot would that be to see my mother naked? How hot would that be to sleep with my naked mother? How hot would that be to touch her and feel her naked body everywhere as she slept?'

When she didn't answer his knock, he knocked again but a little harder this time. Filled with sexual anticipation, he couldn't help from feeling that he was on his honeymoon with his new bride. Already overly, sexually excited, he couldn't help from imagining that he was about to have sex with his just married wife instead of innocently sleeping with his mother.

"Come in, Anthony," she said.

Dressed in a long, flowing, sheer nightgown, she looked so sexy. She looked as if she was a Grecian Goddess. With her hair done and her makeup freshly applied, instead of looking as if she was ready for bed, she looked at if she was going out dancing.

He'd love to go dancing with his mother, especially with what she was wearing. He imagined twilling her around while exposing her naked body to anyone looking. He'd love to accompany her to a swingers' dance. He'd love to make all the men in attendance jealous that he was dancing with the sexiest and most beautiful woman at the dance.

If only they knew that she was his mother, what would they think? If only they knew she was his mother, what would they say? Yet, he didn't care what anyone thought or said, he loved his mother in the way that a man loved a woman and not how a son should love his mother. Now, he couldn't wait to sleep with her.

Then, an unexpected surprise, he couldn't believe his eyes. When she stood from her vanity table while closing her drawer, in one, quick, fluid motion, he saw all that he hoped to see of his naked mother. As if her drawer was complicit in stripping her naked and exposing her naked breasts and pussy to his horny eyes, when she stood, her nightgown caught itself on the dressing table drawer.

As if he had imagined it in his sexual fantasies while masturbating himself, for an instant, he saw his mother naked. As if he had willed it to happen, he saw the shape and the huge, D cup size of her big, naked tits. He saw her symmetrical areolas and her erect, pink nipples. As if he had dreamt it, he saw her blonde, trimmed pussy.

'My mother's cunt,' he thought. 'I can't believe I just saw my mother's cunt.'

# # #

As if she had planned it, he wondered if his mother deliberately flashed him her naked body. How hot would that be if his mother deliberately flashed him her naked breasts and her naked pussy? How hot would that be if his mother wanted to show him as much of her naked body as he wanted to see of her naked body? How hot would that be if his mother sexually wanted him as much as he sexually wanted her?

As if happening in slow motion, her nightgown remained wide open for a long second before she reacted. She looked down at herself to see all that she was showing him before looking up at him to see all that he was seeing of her. Then, with her striptease show over, she closed it.

Caught on the vanity table drawer and unable to pull it closed without tearing her beautiful nightgown, reacting too late to cover nakedness in time, he saw everything. Forever recording her naked image in his horny mind, Anthony saw his mother's naked tits. He saw her erect nipples and her pink, symmetrical areolas. He saw her blonde, trimmed, naked pussy.

'Wow, I can't wait to masturbate over this unexpected, sexy sight,' thought Anthony while feeling his cock hardening in his pajama bottoms. 'If nothing else happens tonight, I'll be masturbating over seeing my naked mother for the rest of my life.'

After seeing his mother naked, whether she flashed him deliberately or unintentionally, it didn't matter. Now, he wanted her to see him naked. He wondered what her reaction would be to seeing him naked. He wondered what her reaction would be to seeing his naked, erect pick. Would she look? Would she stare? Or would she look away?

Tempted to push down his pajama bottoms and remove his t-shirt, now that he saw her naked, he wanted to show her his naked body. In the way that he saw her naked tits and pussy, he wanted to show her his naked cock. Only, bidding his time, he didn't want to prematurely ruin things by sexually molesting his mother. The last thing he wanted was for her to not allow him to sleep in her bed with her.

Then, again, something else unexpected, Samantha walked to her son and stood before him as if she was his significant other, his girlfriend, or his wife instead of his mother. Never nervous being alone with his mother before, after having seen her naked, he was nervous being alone with her now. Then, in the way that she kissed him on his birthday, on her birthday, on Valentine's Day, on Christmas, and on New Year's Eve, she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him on the lips.

'Oh, wow,' when his mother kissed him.

Wishing he was her husband, her boyfriend, or her lover, instead of her son, wishing he dared to part her lips with his tongue, he returned her kiss with his kiss. He was so tempted to wrap his arms around his mother's waist and reach his horny hand down to feel her naked ass through her sexy nightgown while French kissing her. Yet, again, not wanting to prematurely ruin things, fearing she'd reject him, he waited for the right moment to sexually assault her. Following her lead, he waited for the right moment to grope his mother and, hopefully, make out with her.

"What's that for," he asked?

She laughed while looking up over his head.

"It's Christmas silly and you're standing beneath the mistletoe," she said with another laugh. "Merry Christmas, Anthony," she said kissing him again.

'My Mom kissed me. I can't believe my Mom kissed me,' he thought. 'I only wished she'd French kiss me.'

Then, when he looked up over his head and spotted the mistletoe, not wanting to miss an opportunity, he wrapped his arm around his mother's slim waist. He pulled his her to him and, pressing his bulge against her belly, returning her kiss with his kiss, he kissed her in the way that she kissed him. Once again, he was so tempted to part her lips with his tongue and French kiss his mother but he didn't dare.

Instead, when he kissed her, rubbing his stiff prick against her, he impaled his mother's stomach with his erect cock. He was tempted to turn her around, bend her forward, lift her nightgown over her hips, and hump her. If she was any other woman, he'd be stripping her naked and fucking her. If she was any other women, he'd be pressing a heavy hand to her shoulder, pushing her to her knees, and filling her mouth with his erect prick. Yet, with her not a whore and him not an animal, respectfully, she was his mother and he was her son.

"I'm tired," he said with another yawn while eager to go to bed with his mother.

She returned his yawn with her yawn.

"Me too," she said seemingly eager to go to bed with her son.

Anthony beamed his mother a wide smile.

"I can't wait for you to see what I bought you for Christmas," he said.

She returned his smile with her smile.

"I'll find out soon enough tomorrow morning," she said climbing in bed and turning out the light. "Goodnight, Anthony."

# # #

Just like that, it was over. She didn't want sex. Instead, she wanted sleep. At least, when she stood from her dressing table and her nightgown caught on her drawer, he got to see his mother naked. Something he had always wanted to see, he'll be masturbating over that shocking and sexually exciting sight every day for the rest of his perverted life. Now with the image of his naked mother permanently etched in his horny brain, he couldn't sleep if he wanted to sleep.

'I saw my mother naked. I saw her naked tits and pussy,' he thought while replaying her nightgown getting caught on her vanity table drawer over in his mind. 'I can't believe I saw my mother naked.'

Now, unfortunately, at least until his eyes adjusted to the darkness, unable to see anything, it was suddenly so dark. As if he was a blindman, his excuse to touch her, feel her, fondle her, and grope her, he was tempted to reach out both his horny hands to feel for his mother.

'Mom? Are you still here,' he imagined asking? Where are you? I don't see you. I can't see a thing,' he imagined feeling for her while groping her.

As if he was The Who's Pinball Wizard and she was his personal, pinball machine, he wanted to finger her nipples and finger her pussy. As if he was playing Marco Polo in the pool with his mother with his eyes closed, he so wanted to touch and feel her through her sexy nightgown. He couldn't wait to finger her nipples while fingering her pussy. He couldn't wait to masturbate his mother.

Yet, needing to wait for the right moment, once she fell asleep, he'd have his wicked, sexual way with her nearly, naked body. With the darkness and her sleeping necessary for him to have his wicked, sexual way with his mother, he couldn't wait to touch her, feel her, grope her, and fondle her everywhere. Yet, not wanting to ruin his intended purpose of sleeping with his mother and preventing her from sleeping, just a matter of time, he needed her to fall asleep first.

'Sleep, Mother, sleep,' he thought as if he was a hypnotist willing her to fall asleep. 'Sleep, Mother, sleep.' As if he was a warlock casting a spell on his mother, he silently chanted to himself. 'Sleep, Mother, sleep.'

Sexually excited sleeping in her bed, he couldn't wait for her to fall asleep so that he could explore her nearly naked body with his horny hands. He couldn't wait to touch and feel his mother where he should never touch and feel her. Nonetheless, while she was still awake, as if he was her ex-husband instead of her son, he couldn't wait to hold her, hug her, cuddle her, and spoon her. He needed to summon the courage to pretend that he was his father holding his mother.