Mother Used and Abused Me for Sex

Scorned mother uses her son to make her boyfriend jealous at a Halloween party.

My mother is a swinger but I don't judge her for that. She's my Mom and I love her, as any son would love his mother. I don't approve of her free and easy sexual lifestyle, but it's none of my business what she does behind closed doors. So long as she keeps me out of her lewd and lascivious lifestyle and doesn't involve me in her lurid affairs, it's her life to live. A deal that we agreed to, when I moved back home, she doesn't interfere in my life and I don't interfere in her life.

After my Dad died a few years ago, I can't even think about my Mom having sex with men. I can't even go there. To wonder what men in the swinging lifestyle do to her and what she does to them is a thought that makes me cringe and makes me want to vomit. I don't think about what they do.

Now knowing that she's a swinger, now that I think about it, she wouldn't surprise me if she's had sex with women, too. To be honest, I couldn't even think about my Mom having sex with my Dad before and now, to discover that she's a swinger and having sex with God only knows how many people, is just too much for me to understand. Why? I don't get it. I don't understand.

To imagine her with a cock in her mouth, in her pussy, and/or even up her ass and having sex with multiple partners at the same time are all images I'd rather not think of about my Mom. For sure, it would ruin how I perceive her. At least she doesn't take the men she meets at these swingers' dances home. I wouldn't want to hear her having hot sex next to my bedroom. That would be just too nasty.

I found out by accident that she was in the swinging lifestyle, when she forgot to log out of her e-mail, after she went out for the night. She went to pickup her Halloween costume that she had altered for the swingers' Halloween party that she was attending with her boyfriend Ralph. Figuring she was going to hook up with her boyfriend to show him her Halloween costume, I figured she'd be gone for hours. If it wasn't for her forgetting to close her e-mail account, I never would have known or even suspected my Mom was a swinger. To say that I was shocked to learn that my Mom was a swinger was an understatement.

Yeah, sure, she's always dressed a little provocative, sexy, actually, but she's still young enough and has the body to do that. Still, plenty of women dress sexy and that doesn't mean they are swingers, too. Just as there are many swinging women who dress sexy, I'm sure there are just as many swinging women who dress modestly.

Of course, I realize reading her e-mails was an invasion of her privacy, but I was bored. Then, when I started reading one, shocked and dismayed, I couldn't stop reading the others. I'm embarrassed, albeit excited, to write that I even saw some of her nude photos that she sent to a few men online.

Wow! My Mom is a Milf. She looks a little like a younger version of Katherine Zeta Jones but with bigger tits. She still looks good for a 45-year-old mature woman and judging by her nude photos, if I didn't know her age, I'd think she was in her late thirties. For sure, if she wasn't my Mom, I'd be hitting on her.

In hindsight, I realize now that it may have been a mistake to open Pandora's Box by reading her e-mails and I wish I hadn't, but I did. As if I was the parent and she was the child, even though I thought better of it, that next day. over morning coffee, I couldn't help myself from asking her about her swinging lifestyle. I realized, of course, once I confronted her, she'd know that I invaded her privacy by reading her e-mails and, no doubt, even ogled her photos. Never like this before, I needed to know why she was exhibiting this perverse sexual behavior now.

"Mom."

"Yes, Ryan."

Not very modest and never wearing a bathrobe, my Mom, sitting across from me at the breakfast table, was wearing one of her sexy and revealing nightgowns. Even though I'm used to seeing more of my mother in one morning than most sons ever see of their mothers in a lifetime, I was trying my best not to ogle her sexy body, especially after discovering that she's a swinger and especially after seeing her nude photos.

Short and low cut, with nothing underneath, it took some control on my part not to focus on her cleavage and/or the impressions that her big nipples made in the thin, pink satin material of her nightgown. Nonetheless, between looking at her in her nightgown now and recalling the nude photos of her that I ogled and masturbated over last night, I was beginning to get an erection. Suddenly feeling uncomfortable for becoming aroused over my Mom, she made me feel like the pervert that I never thought I was but must be.

Just out of college and not yet employed, with plenty of free time on my hands but very little money, it had been a while since I had a date last and longer since I've had sex. Of the age that my body was raging with excess testosterone, I was always horny. In the way that my Mom paraded around the house with little covering her nakedness and sometimes not leaving much to my imagination, she wasn't helping my sexual frustration any. Especially after just having seen her naked photos, I was horny. Admittedly preoccupied with my Mom's naked photos, but I never expected to see my Mom naked. Now, all I've been doing lately is masturbating over my Mom, something I haven't done in years. I need a girlfriend.

"You left here is such a rush last night, Mom," I said taking a sip of my coffee before continuing. I had second thoughts about telling her, but I needed to know why she had suddenly become a swinger. I couldn't help but wonder if maybe she was always a swinger. Was my Dad in the lifestyle, too? "That you didn't log off your e-mail account."

She gave me a look of shocked horror and her face turned a bright red. Then, turning into the swinger she had become, she relaxed and took a sip of her coffee, before answering me.

"Well, the fact that you're telling me that I forgot to close my e-mail account tells me that you invaded my privacy by reading my e-mails and, now, there's something you want to discuss with me," she said looking at me, as if she had just taken a puff of her cigarette and exhaled smoke in my face, even though she doesn't smoke. "Is that it?"

In the way she stared at me, she made me feel small and pathetic, as if I was living my sexual life vicariously through my mother, especially now feeling guilty after having masturbated over her naked photos. Every time I looked at her now, I imagined her having sex with a multitude of horny men in the swinging lifestyle. It was then that I realized how immature and naive I was and how sophisticated and cosmopolitan my Mom was, especially regarding sex.

Usually, the other way around, with someone my age being more promiscuous, at her age, she was more worldly, almost European, in her attitude and her obvious viewpoint concerning sex. Obviously, in the way she paraded around me nearly naked all the time, nudity was no be deal to her. Yet, I was unable to reciprocate and I couldn't help but wonder what she'd do if I exposed as much as my body to her, as she exposed her body to me. I'd be so embarrassed if my mother ever saw my cock.

"There is something I'd like to discuss with you, Mom," I said involuntarily looking down at her cleavage, before looking up at her.

"Well, what is it? C'mon, get it off your chest. Tell Mommy what's bothering my baby boy."

Pressing me to answer her with a prolonged stare, I imagined Betty Davis asking me the same question. My Mom's not stupid. Just as I feared she would, she figured, no doubt, that I read her e-mails and now she knows that I know she's a swinger. Not much of a stretch, she didn't have to be a genius to figure out that.

"Mom, you're a swinger?"

"A swinger? I wouldn't call myself as much a swinger, as I'd more call myself a dancer. I love dancing with men."

My Mom is a dancer alright, by dodging my swinging question and dancing around the issue of sex with semantics. I couldn't help imagining her dancing naked in bed with men. Figuring that dancing was her metaphor for having sex with men, I persevered.

"Dancing Mom? Really. You have sex with men, after you dance with them? Is that it?"

Like mother like son, I returned her prolonged stare and, this time, pressured her for an answer, just as she had pressed me for an answer.

"So what if I do have sex with men, Ryan? That's none of your damn business. What happened to the deal we made when you moved back home? You stay out of my affairs and I don't question what you do. We're both adults, after all."

Oh, boy. I stepped in shit now. My Mom was mad.

"You're right, Mom, and I'm sorry. It's just that I'm concerned and worried--"

"Oh, don't give me that crap about your worried concern. First you invade my privacy by reading my e-mails and now you interrogate me about my personal and private sexual life. I'm very upset with you, Ryan, very upset," she said pointing a finger of hurt and distrust at me.

How could I violate her privacy like that by reading her e-mails? I don't blame her for being upset and she was very upset. When she was giving me her heated reply, I couldn't help but notice that her nipples were erect. Embarrassed by my sudden stare and by my growing erection over the sight of my Mom's nipples sexually arousing me, I had to look down and away not to stare at the huge impression her nipples made in her sheer nightgown. I didn't want to be any more aroused than I was already.

How would that look with my cock tenting my pajama bottoms, while having a conversation about my Mom being a swinger? She'd think that I was a pervert, no doubt, and wanted to have sex with her, too. Now, especially after having seen and masturbated over her big, beautiful breasts in her naked photos, the images of her tits filled my mind, as if they were two giant orbs of lustful, incestuous desire. Yet, undaunted, I persevered.

"You're changing the subject, Mom. The issue is that you have sex with strange men, not so much that I read your e-mails."

"Did you see my nude photos?"

A question I knew she was going to ask me, I was still uncomfortable with her asking me that. In the way she asked me the question, staccato and without inflection on any syllable, was as if she was extinguishing her cigarette in the ashtray by rapidly smashing it, much in the way of Morse code. For me to constantly think of cigarettes, when my Mom doesn't smoke, never smoked, either I've watched one too many Bogart and Bacall movies or I was preoccupied with my mother's mouth for some sexual reason. I hate to admit it, but maybe I wondered what it would be like for her to blow me, in the way that she must have blown so many of her swinging men.

"Nude photos? No," I said lying.

Did I see her nude photos? Are you kidding me? There were dozens of them with her in all manner of dress and undress and in all types of lurid, sexual poses. Topless, bottomless, naked, side views, standing, sitting, squatting, bending over, lying down with her legs together and her legs spread, my mind was a collage of naked images of my mother. Now, every time I looked at my Mom, her face was plastered over a background of her naked body parts, tits, ass, and pussy.

How could I not see, stare, leer, ogle and masturbate over my Mom's naked photos? Over and again, for hours last night, I clicked on her photos, until I started to get carpel tunnel syndrome. When she asked me if I saw her naked photos, I could feel myself turn red. With a growing erection before, my cock stiffened by the recollection of all the nude photos that I saw of my sexy mother's body. There wasn't any part of my Mom's body that I didn't see over and again from every angle.

Without doubt, for a mature woman, she has a fabulous body, a better body than some twenty-something-year-olds. I didn't want to, I tried to control myself, but seeing my Mom naked made me so horny that I masturbated over the images that I saw of her again this morning. Never have I been as excited, as when I masturbated over my mother's naked body, while replaying the images of her through my mind in all of her various nude and erotic poses, as if they were an X-rated slide show.

"You're lying, Ryan. I can always tell when you're lying. Your face is all red." She gave me that Mom look, you know, the one that she knows you did something wrong and you're in trouble. "You masturbated over my nude photos, didn't you?" In the way she stared at me, she made me squirm. "And you have the gall to make me feel that there's something wrong with me for needing to feel sexual intimacy with a man, when you're the one masturbating over your mother."

"Mom! Eww. Gross. No, I didn't masturbate over your photos," I said pressured to defend myself and wondering how in the Hell she knew that I masturbated over her photos?

Is nothing sacred? Do I have no privacy whatsoever? Is it a Mom thing that she knows not only whenever I lie but also whenever I masturbate, especially over her, when she's miles away? The time she caught with my hand in her panty drawer, I denied, denied, denied. Now, that she caught me with my hand around my cock with my thoughts of her naked body, I needed to use the same strategy.

"That's so disgusting, Mom. How can you say that to me, your son? That's sick. I didn't even open your nude photos."

"Liar. Like mother like son," she said with a laugh. "You're, no doubt, just as horny as I am."

Suddenly, I envisioned her looking at me in the way that Angelica Houston looked at her son, John Cusack, when she played Lilly Dillon in Grifters and he played Roy Dillon, just before she kissed him and then killed him. Then, she gave me a soft, sexy look, as if I was one of her swinging partners. Her look, more like a leer, as if she had just undressed me with her eyes and stripped me naked, made me feel uncomfortable.

"Eww, Mom, really. A son, even a 23-year-old son, doesn't like to think that his Mom has sexual needs to make her horny. I can assure you, mother, that I did not open your photos."

She stared at me without talking. Now, I was the one who felt violated. I felt embarrassed. I felt sickened that my mother sexually aroused me enough to masturbate over the sexual thoughts of her but, at the same time, she excited me by her look. If she was anyone else, but my mother, I would have kissed her, before pushing her back on the floor, tearing off her nightgown, and fucking her.

"So, what did you think of your old, naked Mom? Not bad for an old broad," she said sitting upright in her sheer nightgown and sticking out her chest.

With her sitting like that with her chest pushed out, I couldn't help but look where she wanted me to look. I couldn't help but stare at her big tits. My Mom had a rack equal to Mimi Rogers when she played Claire Gregory opposite Tom Berenger as Det. Mike Keegan in Someone to Watch Over Me. If I looked closely enough and I did, I could make out the outline of her breasts through her sheer nightgown. If I stared long enough and I did, I could see her areolas and her nipples through the thin and nearly translucent material of her pale, pink nightgown.

Whenever she walked past the big, bay window, was as if she was naked and, again, I had an erection with the thoughts of remembering my naked mom in all those photos. In hindsight, I should have printed them all out. In hindsight, I was glad that I hadn't because had I printed them, I would have been a masturbation machine continually masturbating over my mother's naked photos.

My justification for confronting her about her swinging was that I had to get her lifestyle out in the open for us to continue living together. I needed to know what I was dealing with her sudden bizarre, sexual behavior. This wasn't like my Mom to have sex with strange men. Maybe it's menopause and she's going through the change. Maybe with estrogen surging through her body, she's just as horny as I am with testosterone surging through mine.

Honestly, I'm just glad she's out of the house and having some fun, instead of moping around depressed in the way she was, when my Dad first died. Still, not being a psychiatrist or even a psychology major, I couldn't help but wonder if having sex with strange men, a brash and self-destructive behavior to me, is her way to get herself through her grief. Who knows why, but people handle grief differently and maybe having sex with strange men was her way of dealing with her pain, her grief, and her loss.

My Dad was a young man by today's standards, barely fifty, when he suffered a sudden heart attack. His death was a shock. Yet, whatever the reason, the swinging lifestyle works for my Mom and she seems happy, certainly much happier than she was, that is, until recently, when her boyfriend, her swinging partner, Ralph, dumped her for a younger woman. Oh, oh, watch out for a woman scorned, especially when there's a younger woman involved. Boy, if she was mad before, you should have seen her then.

I couldn't help but overhear her and Ralph arguing on the phone and their fight continued through her e-mails, some of which I read that day she forgot to close her e-mail account. My Mom had been moping around crying again, as she did when my Dad died. It all came to a head when Ralph was a no show for her date to the Halloween party. They had planned this dance for months and she had invested a lot of time, energy, and money with her costume. I've yet to meet the man, but from the way she was acting, I'd say that she was in love with this Ralph guy, whoever he is.

I've been away at school the past few years, which is why, perhaps, she got into the swinging lifestyle to begin with, no doubt, from being alone and lonely. Yet, I can't accept any blame for her personal, sexual actions and inappropriate carnal decisions. I don't feel any guilt for her decision to engage in the immoral sexual behavior and the lifestyle that she has chosen. Why should I? It's her life. I didn't twist her arm or encourage her to have sex with strange men.

Then, I realized that I continue to call any man that has sex with my Mom strange, when I'm sure there are some very nice men who find my Mom attractive and sensual enough to want to have sex with her. It's just a poor word choice on my part. She's my Mom, after all.

Just as she hasn't been there to hold my hand during the life changes I've had to go through alone, I wasn't here to hold her hand, when my Dad died. I was away at school. She's a big girl and she had her friends and her sisters to help her through her loss. I mourned my Dad in my own way, by taking off from school for a year and going to Europe. Yeah, sure, I miss my Dad but I'm here for my Mom now. That is, until I get a job, get my own place, get on with my life, and leave her to get on with her life.

It's obvious that we don't share the same morals when it comes to sex. Okay, yeah, sure, I did masturbate over seeing my Mom's nude photos, but that's normal for a guy to do, especially a guy who doesn't have a girlfriend, hasn't had a date in some time, and hasn't had sex with anyone but his own hand in longer than he'd like to admit. What isn't normal is for my Mom to have sex, with who knows how many men, under the false pretense that she likes to dance with men. When, in fact, she's really a swinger and, after dancing, is fucking and sucking men and women, for all I know.

Based from the e-mails I read, the argument started when Ralph accused my Mom of using him as an escort to the swingers' Halloween party. He wrote that she was more interested in hooking up with other men at the dance, than she was in having sex with him. In the way that some people don't realize what they have, until they lose it, that's what I suspected happened with my Mom when the thought of losing Ralph was a real possibility. Substantiated in her e-mail that she'd have a better chance of hooking up with somebody, if she went as a couple, instead of as a single, she confided that to me later, and I could understand how Ralph must have felt hurt, offended, and played.