Hypnotizing Mom Ch 04

It was a Saturday night. I was home alone. Eric was over Ben's house with a group boys. He had left early in the morning. They were having a marathon gaming day. The last thing he had told me was not to wait up for him. He might not even be home till tomorrow sometime.

I wished him luck and he was gone. It was about 10 o'clock. I had been sipping wine and had a devilish idea. I knew where Eric kept his stash of pre-rolled joints, so I decided to steal one. He'd never miss it. I figured I needed a distraction, after the last week of dreams and the trauma they had brought me. The images of my son and me, together, needed to be washed away and forgotten.

I had just started an eighties chick flick and was about to reach for my lighter and this perfectly shaped joint when my iPhone buzzed. I picked it up and my heart lifted when I saw it was a Facetime call from Eric. I paused the movie.

He had a big grin on his face and I wondered if he had been smoking too. He asked cheerfully, "Hey mom, what you up too?"

I smiled back, bit my lower lip and said, "Oh nothing, just sipping wine and about to watch a movie."

He glanced away for a second as there was a loud cheer in the room behind him. He looked back at his phone, "Sounds like fun. Hey mom..."

He was interrupted, Ben's voice echoed, he sounded annoyed, "Hey Eric, come on man. I'm getting killed here!"

Eric shook his head and yelled back with a touch of irritation, "Ok man, Jesus, just give me a second."

He again looked at me on his phone, "Hey mom, sleep mom, sleep."

Suddenly I was very tired. I yawned, my eyes closed, the sound of the TV faded.

I heard Eric's voice, "Mom, I want you to keep doing what you're doing, watch your movie, when it's over, go to your bedroom, I want you to take off your blouse and skirt and put on something sexy. Put on makeup like you're going out and on that perfume I like. Then go to my bedroom, get on the bed and start without me. I'll be home in a couple hours. Okay mom?"

I titled my head; my mind went blank for a second. I licked my lips and replied quietly, "Yes honey, I understand. See you soon."

He gave me a mischievous grin, "You won't remember me telling you to do that, you'll think it was your idea. And you won't remember what we do. It'll be like a dream?" He blew me a kiss and said, "See ya, mom," and he was gone.

I looked at my phone, thinking, what did Eric want, say? Oh, he just called to say he'd be home soon and start without him. Start what? I shrugged, picked up the joint, lit it, took a hit. I unpaused the flick, took another drag, felt the grass start to take effect and leaned back on the couch. I love chick flicks; the girl always gets her man.

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The movie ended and, yep, the girl got her man and the man got the girl. Boy, did he get her. I chuckled, the girls are always so wide eyed horny and want to get fucked in those films.

The joint was long gone, so was the glass of wine. I got up, left the glass and lighter on the coffee table, turned off the TV. I walked up to my bedroom, stripped off my blouse, skirt and slippers.

I looked into the mirror. Saw the same old middle-aged lady that was always there. I thought, those girls always get their man, huh. Well, how do they do it? I smiled and said out loud, "By dolling themselves up and looking like they want to get fucked, that's how."

I went over to my dresser. Bottom drawer, that's where they are. Gee, I don't even remember the last time I even opened that drawer.

I pulled out an unopened box of shear high thigh, black silk stockings and a blacked laced bra with matching panties. God, I had bought these years ago. I had planned to go to a New Years eve party, but Eric got sick so I stayed home with him.

I then noticed my old shear black knee length robe. I used to call it, 'I'm horny and want to get fucked robe' when I was married. Maybe if I wore it more often? I brushed the thought out of my mind, realized it probably wouldn't have mattered anyway.

I yanked the robe out of the drawer and flung it towards the bed. I watched it flutter slowly down. I sighed, walked over to my vanity chair, carrying my lingerie. I opened the stockings box, pulled out the pair if stockings. Putting one on the vanity, I started to roll up the other with my fingers, thinking, gently, don't run them. God, has it been that long since I've worn stockings. I barely wear pantyhose now-a-days, and they are made virtually indestructible.

I bent my leg up and pointed my toes at the opening. I slid my foot into the silk. I slowly pulled the stocking over my foot, ankle, my calf, my knee. I noticed my toes still pointing out, half my leg encased in the shear silk. I thought it looked sexy. I smiled and pulled the stocking up half my thigh. It felt so cool up and down the entire length against the skin of my leg. The stretchy four-inch, lacy top band held the stocking in place.

I slipped on the other stocking, thankfully they didn't run. I rubbed my thighs together. The silky smoothness and sexy look it gave my legs made me smile. I was also thankful that I had showered and shaved my legs, pits and trimmed my pubic hair earlier that afternoon. I felt clean, fresh and a little devilish.

I picked up the lacy bra next to me, put it on backwards so I could clasp it shut, turned it around put my arms through the shoulder straps and lifted my tits into each cup, adjusting them so they both fit just right. The bra didn't give them much support, but my heavy tits looked kind of nice encased in the cups black webbing.

I took the flimsy panties off the bed, lifted my foot off the floor, slipped one foot through and then the other. I stood up, pulling the French cut panties that barely cover my pussy and ass.

I stood looking at my body in the full-length mirror. I twisted around looking at my front, sides and back. I groaned. Everything seemed to sag. My tits, my ass, my tummy, my thighs, even my calves.

That gave me an idea. I shuffled over to the closet. There they were. A pair of three-inch black high toe closed high heels with ankle straps. I blew, then brushed the dust off them.

I sat back on the chair, slipped my feet into the heels. They felt a little tight. I couldn't remember the last time I had them on. I buckled the straps above my ankles. I stood up and eyed my backside again in the mirror.

My calves now had definition. My calve muscles were taut. My thighs and even my ass seemed to be uplifted. I smiled, not bad, I hope Eric likes it. I blushed. I could see my face redden in the mirror. Why would I think that? I looked at myself again, up and down. One final touch. I picked up the flimsy black 'fuck me' robe and slipped it on. Examining myself again in the mirror. I thought, not bad for a middle-aged old bitch.

I then sat down and looked into the vanity's mirror. Let's see if we can take a few years off this face. I decided to go all out. First a little moisturizer, a touch of primer, then the foundation.

I paused to examine the progress. It was working. The wrinkles hidden. Now, some concealer to hide some aging blemishes. I picked up the blush, flipped open the lid. Dapped the brush and applied a soft coat to give lift to my cheeks.

Next the eyeliner and as I finished with the mascara, I smiled at myself, a little too much mascara but, why not, I wanted to look sexy, inviting, like I was going out on a date.

I picked up a new classic red lipstick I'd never had the nerve to wear and layered it evenly on my bottom lip then the top. I smacked my lips together and admired my white toothy smile. My red lips making my teeth look even whiter then they were.

I sat back and examined my work. I had taken years off me. Maybe it was the high from the joint I had smoked, but I didn't care. I looked good.

My thoughts turned to my son. What would he think if he saw me like this?

I let the notion pass. I picked up my perfume spray bottle. A quick spritz directly into my hair. Another in front of me and I stepped through the mist.

I walked over to the full-length mirror. Eyed myself up and down, twirled letting the frilly black rob swirl in the air.

I felt the inside of my pussy tingle and it made me feel naughty as I gave myself another once over in the mirror. I walked out of my bedroom down the dark hallway to Eric's.

I paused in the hallway, questioning myself. Judy, what are you doing? A mother doesn't get all dressed up for her son to see. No It's just not natural.

I felt as if I was in a haze. The marijuana, that's it. This must be a dream. But it's so real. It feels so good. I feel so good. Why am I going to Eric's room? To get another joint. To get higher. I smiled at myself. I twirled around in the hallway, letting my robe float in the air. I took a few more steps and was standing at my son's door. I stared at it for a few seconds and opened it. His familiar musky scent pervaded in the room. It sent a shiver through me. The glow of his gaming monitor was enough to light the room. I went to his dresser, took out another joint. Picked up a lighter, lit it up, took a long, deep drag. I held it in my lungs, letting it soak in doing its thing.

I let the smoke out slowly. I gazed at myself in the large mirror on his dresser. My dark hair framed my painted face. The black shear robe hung on my shoulders. The whiteness of my skin, shown my cleavage. My large breast visible, yet veiled, with the lacy bra and robe. I took another drag, put down the joint in a can top my son had on the dresser. I stepped back, sat on the foot of the bed, crossed my legs. Felt again the top of the lace band rub together on my thighs, reminding me of the silk stockings I was wearing. I looked up and again saw myself in the mirror on his dresser. I looked nice, younger, fuckable.

This time the word, thought, didn't shock me. Eric would be home soon. I need to start without him. In my haze powered dream, I knew what that meant.

I lay back on my son's unmade bed. A used t-shirt, socks and boxer lay around me. Looked up at the ceiling. I turned my head to the side. The smell of my son's bed sheets and clothing reeked of his essence. I turned onto my stomach, pushed myself up, gathered a t-shirt and a pair if his boxers, placed them on his pillow and buried my face into them. His boyish scents were overwhelming, his body odor, stale pee scent, even his ass. I could almost taste him as I inhaled the sensual stench into my nose and mouth.

My face planted deep into his plow, I moaned a muffled loud, "Oh God, Eric!" My hands moved beneath my stomach, down over my abdomen and my fingers found their mark, pressing the thin, lacy fabric into the folds of my pussy lips.

My fingertips danced the thin pushed the thin material aside and dug into my self-lubricating cunt. As I breathed in my son's captured stale fragrance, I imagined it was his fingers that pleasured me.

Yes, I wanted my son. I was now freely admitted it. I wanted him, needed him to use me, overpower me. I wouldn't, couldn't fight these dreams, illusions any longer. I let go. My fingers, playing in and around my pussy. I screamed into the pillow, giving into this forbidden perversion, "God, yes, Eric, do anything you want to mommy."

I flipped over onto my back and yanked my panties off. I needed unfettered access to my now warm, wet, sloppy cunt. I bent my knees, opened my heavy thighs wide. I dug the heels into Eric's bed. My pungent pussy scent escaping from my cunt. It combined with Eric's giving further fuel to this depraved obscenity.

I wedged my index and middle finger into my pussy, pushing them up against my cunt's inner wall. My thumb made circles around and over my rigid clit.

My other hand found his soiled t-shirt and I held it up to my nose. God, I breathed him in. I pushed my thighs open even wider. My ass lifting an inch off the bed as I dug and twisted my fingers in deeper. My thumb pressing harder on my clit.

I let go of Eric's shirt, leaving it across my mouth, just under my nose, so I could continue to enjoy the illusion of his presence.

I moved my hand down to my tit that laid flat on my chest. I pushed it up, found my already elongated nipple through the lacey fabric of my bra and with my thumb and index finger I pinched it hard, twisted and pulled it upwards. I wanted to feel pain; to mix it with the pleasure my other hand was delivering to my pussy. The grass heighten the intensity of my sense of smell and touch, driving my ecstasy to new limits.

I let out a loud moan. My eyes closed tight. My back arched. My fingers dancing in my well lubricated pussy, my thumb rubbing the hard knob of my clit.

"Damn." It was my son's voice, just above a whisper. I turned my head; his shirt fell from my face. My fingers froze in position on my nipple and in and over my pussy.

Eric's shape was etched in the bedroom doorway by the soft flow of the monitor. I whimpered, pitifully, "No, no, no, no." My mind screamed, "Wake up, I can't let my son see me like this, doing this! It's wrong, he's, my son! God please!"

Eric walked towards the bed, our eyes met and then his swept across my body. He moved to the foot of the bed. Standing there, perfectly centered between my widespread thick thighs, he started to strip. He focused on my pussy for a few seconds, looked up at face and sternly said, "Don't stop mother. I want to watch you masturbate. I want to see you make yourself cum. Go on, do it."

My voice quivered softly. I pleaded, I begged him, "Eric, please don't make me do this. Please wake me up from this dream, please."

As he pulled off his jeans and boxers. His cock was semi-hard. His eyes narrowed and his voice filled with irritation, "Do it mother. Masturbate, make yourself cum. I want to see how you do it, now mother."

Tears filled my eyes, blurring my son's body. I lay my head back on the pillow and started to move my fingers deeper into my pussy and swirled my thumb around and on my extended clit. I pulled and twisted my nipple, letting out a shallow moan.

As I jammed my index and middle fingers into my well lubricated pussy. They made a squishing sound revealing how my body was betraying me. The thought of my son, standing at the foot of the bed, staring at my completely exposed pussy, aroused me. My fingers thrusting into me, turning inside me. This forbidden act, making my cunt overflow with juice. My mind again repeating, 'no, no, no', as my fingers danced and played with my vagina. My son was watching me.

Eric's voice, expressing wonder, "God mom, your so wet. Jesus, your cum is dripping out of your pussy. Do it mother, cum for me. That's it, play with yourself bitch."

The word, "bitch" stung me. I'm a bitch to him now. Is that what my son thinks of me, a bitch. Oh God, I am a bitch, his bitch! He's making me do these things. He's controlling me. I added my ring finger to the assault on my pussy. I rammed the three fingers as deep as I could into my drenched opened cunt. My back arched. I moved my hand from my breast and straight onto my clit, freeing my thumb and letting me jab more of my fingers up inside me. I grabbed hold of the hard knob of my clit with my thumb and forefinger and pressed the together. I squeezed the pleasure into it.

My voice echoed and filled my son's bedroom, "OH DEAR GOD!" My thighs began to quiver and clamped shut onto my hand. I twisted and turned on the bed as the massive climax traveled though me. A low, long, throated moan now escaped from me. I was lost in my orgasm. Driving it to continue was the thought that my son was watching me. That I had done this because my son had instructed me, demanded it of me. My mind swirled with the same thought as my body shook revealing my hidden sexual need, 'Oh dear God, NO! Oh, dear God, NO! Oh, dear God, NO!'

The vibrations that had overpowered me subsided. I slumped back on the bed. My body, now relaxed. My thighs still pressed together, holding my hand and fingers in place. My other hand moved up to my face as I started to sob.

I felt hands on each of my knees. Eric was forcing them apart. A tinge of pride in his voice, "Jesus' mom, that was intense. Watching you do that to yourself. And the sounds and smell your pussy makes when you get off, wow."

I slipped my fingers out of me. They were coated with my lubricant. Eric's next words shocked me. "Lick your fingers clean mother. I want to see you suck your fingers into your mouth and eat your cum."

Resigned to obey, I brought my fingers to my mouth. The strong odor of my pussy made my nose twitch. I opened my mouth, pressed all three fingers against my tongue. I used my lips to suck my cum covered fingers into my mouth. My tongue sliding between each digit, washing them clean. I wanted every drop of myself. I sucked off my fingers and swallowed my own musky, sour juice, knowing Eric was watching.

I had tasted myself before. But that was long ago, so long ago. This was different. The concentration of my cum, the fact that I was literally, eating my essence, thrilled me. Then the same sobering thought shot through me, 'my son was watching me, debase myself.' Tears filled my eyes.

Suddenly, Eric's strong hands gripped my hips and he pulled me my ass to the edge of the bed. He then roughly placed his hand on the underside of each knee, forcing my thighs apart, exposing my still soaked vagina to him. He harshly ordered me, "Mom, use your fingers and spread your pussy lips open. I want to see your cunt."

I moved my fingers from my mouth and with both hands I brought them to my pussy. Trying not to think of what I was doing. Trying to blot it out of my mind. Wishing my son would wake me from the incestuous, awful, evil dream.

My fingers found my folds of my pussy and pulled them apart. Laying bare my vagina to my son. My swollen outer lips folded back, my now softened clitoris, my juice coated inner lips and my virginal hole gapped open. I felt completely vulnerable, my most private of parts, displayed before my son.

He whispered as he inhaled both my scent and the view, "Oh yes, Jesus, mother your pussy is so beautiful. God and the way it smells."

Then his face was into my cunt. He was lapping at it furiously, drinking me. He moved his face up and down my pussy. He sucked, kissed, lapped up my juices. He paid no attention to my clit. He concentrated on eating me. His grip beneath my knees tightened and he pressed my thighs farther apart. My heeled feet dangled in the air.

My hands grabbed hold of the bed sheets as he continued to devour me. GOD, it felt so good. Like he as massaging my pussy with his tongue, lips, chin and face. My son, doing what he wanted and giving me pleasure.

Without warning he pulled his face away from my overworked cunt. He let go of my knees and placed his hands below my ankles. My head still back, now laid on the bed, I looked up to see my boy towering over me, between my "V" shaped, outstretched legs. He glared down at my sweat glistened body. He had a determined look on his face.

He asked, his devilish face showed he knew the answer he wanted to hear, "Tell me what you want mother. Tell me."

He pulled my high-heeled feet higher and wider apart, intensely staring down at my face.

"Please Eric, I can't." I feebly replied.

He screamed at me, "YOU BITCH, SAY IT!"

I cried softly, "Eric, fuck me. Fuck your mother."

He laughed mocking me, "Louder mother, like you mean it, like how you know you want it!"

I closed my eyes shut tightly and bellowed angrily, "Yes Eric, fuck me, fuck your mother. Ram your cock inside me. Fill me with your cock and cum. Do it, fuck me, fuck your mother!"

He moved his hips until his bulbous cock head found the opening between my wet pussy lips. With a grunt he rammed his cock into me. He immediately started to hammer it back and forth. His hands, holding my legs just below my ankles, caused my feet to wobble with each of his hard unrelenting trusts. My pussy gapped wide open to his cock as he plummeted it, over and over again. The squishy sound of my well lubricated cunt filled the room each time he pounded his cock into me.