I Love You And Want You Mom

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Author's Note: This story is an incest story with graphic and explicit mother and son sex. If you are offended by incest, please read another story. Thank you for opening my story.

While asleep on the couch of her son's house, Violet surprised her son at Halloween with an unexpected visit. When Jason arrived home drunk and horny after celebrating his birthday with his friends and strippers, he confused his mother for his wife. With her welcoming her son's sexual advances, Mama Violet gives her son a trick and a treat.

# # #

Albeit, something out of the ordinary, it was a Halloween much like any other Halloween except with me visiting my son, Jason, his wife, Tamara, and my two grandchildren. I'm Violet Christine, Jason's mother. Normally, I vacation with them for week in the summer but, this year, Tamara asked me to come again over the Halloween weekend to see their kids in their costumes and to take them trick or treating. Since Halloween was my son's birthday anyway, wanting to surprise him, instead of mailing him his gift, I'd buy his gift there and give it to him in person.

"Violet? Can you visit for Halloween? I could use your help with the kids. You could take them trick or treating while I pass out candy. They'd be excited for you to see them in their Halloween costumes," said my daughter-in-law Tamara.

How could I say no? I loved my son's children, my grandchildren. It would be fun to take them trick or treating something I haven't done in years, when my son stopped going trick or treating when he turned 13-years-old. I remember the conversation we had when he suddenly turned into a young man instead of a boy.

"Jason, why aren't you wearing a costume to go trick or treating," I remembered asking him so very long ago?

He made a face, rolled his eyes, and sighed as if I told him to put his Game Boy down and eat his vegetables.

"Halloween is for kids, Mama," he said.

Yet, even though he was suddenly too old for Halloween, I cherished the memories I had of him in costume. I cherished the memories of him coming home with a bag of candy that we went through together to make sure it was safe to eat. Now I get too relive those precious memories with my grandchildren when taking them trick or treating. I get to relive those memories when passing out Halloween candy to the trick or treaters in costume. I was excited to spend some quality time with my grandchildren over Halloween.

"Sure. I've love to spend Halloween with you, the kids, and my son. It will be fun passing out candy after taking the kids trick or treating. I haven't done that in years, since Jason was a boy," I said remembering my son always wanting to dress like Arnold in Terminator. He loved Arnold Schwarzenegger. "I'll be back and Hasta la vista, baby," he said every morning before heading for school.

I couldn't wait to take pictures of my grandchildren dressed in their Halloween costumes to show all my friends back home. I couldn't wait to take photos of them in their Halloween costumes and show them to my hairdresser, my manicurist, and my workout buddies at the gym.

"Granny Violet! Granny Violet," said my grandchildren running to me to give me hugs and kisses as soon as they saw me getting out of my car in the driveway.

With Halloween a big holiday for Tamara and for the kids, like me, a holiday celebration she never had as a child, she decorated her house in black crepe paper and orange balloons. She had ghosts, spiders, and witches hanging from her porch. Filled with candles that created scary shadows, the interior of the house was decorated too. Something they'd hopefully take with them with fond memories and copy when they're married with children, the kids loved the Halloween decorations. She had a small table and chair in readiness to pass out candy to trick or treaters.

A combination Halloween and birthday surprise for my son, something I haven't done in years, he didn't know that I made the long drive to celebrate Halloween and his birthday. Only, under the light of a full moon, All Hallows Eve, feeling the accompaniment of spirits, it was an eerie night. As if I was Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz, I felt as if a witch was peering into a crystal ball and casting her wicked spell over mother and son.

I remembered a poem by Lizette Woodworth Reese.

Two things I did on Hallows Night: -- Made my house April-clear; Left open wide my door To the ghosts of the year.

Then, one came in. Across the room It stood up long and fair -- The ghost that was myself -- And gave me stare for stare.

With the reemergence of my sexual desires for my son and his sudden incestuous lust for me, I felt controlled. I didn't know that this holiday would change our lives forever. Something that I had been longing to happen for years, I didn't know that my last minute, surprise visit would transform our relationship from mother and son to incestuous lovers.

# # #

"Where the Hell is he? Why hasn't he called? Maybe something happened to him," said Tamara while pacing back and forth with worry while talking to herself.

The only time she stopped pacing was to peer out the window to look for his truck.

'Stay out of it. He's married now,' I thought. 'He's a grown man and this is between him and his wife. As long as he supports his family and is a good father, what he does in his free time is no longer any of your business.'

I remembered how his father would disappear with his friends and leave me alone to care for Jason. Sometimes, he wouldn't come home until the next morning. Sometimes he wouldn't come home for days. Then, when he finally found his way home, making no excuses and giving me no explanation, always, he came home drunk.

Jason was lucky he wasn't in an accident while driving drunk. He was lucky he didn't kill himself or anyone else. He was lucky he was never arrested for driving under the influence of alcohol. He was lucky I didn't leave him. Only, even though I hated my husband and he despised me, a woman on her own in a man's world, I had no place to go.

While waiting for their father to arrive home, I played Halloween games with my grandchildren to occupy them. I didn't want Tamara to unduly upset them with her impatience and her foul mood. Knowing my son wouldn't miss his own birthday party, seeing his children in their Halloween costumes, and taking them trick or treating, I knew he'd be home soon.

"Have you tried calling him," I asked giving my daughter-in-law a supportive smile?

She turned to me, rolled her eyes, sighed, and made a face in the same way that my son used to roll his eyes, sigh, and make face at me whenever I suggested he'd do something.

"Call him? I called him a dozen times," she said with attitude. "My calls go to voice mail. I have no idea where he is or what he's doing. He could be anywhere and doing anything," she said turning to look at me as if his disappearance and absence was my fault. "He could be in a ditch dead, in a barroom drunk, or shacked up with some whore he paid for the night," she said as if that wasn't the first time that happened.

She surprised me when she confessed that my son had been with prostitutes. Not giving me a chance to protest my outrage or my assurance that he wasn't with some whore, she turned to glare at me again as if his drinking and bad behavior was my all fault. Yet, admittedly guilty for sexually teasing him, incestuously enticing him, and having forbidden sex with him when he was 21-years-old, I was ready to accept some of the responsibility but not all of the blame for my son's bad behavior. With his father a drunk, sadly, my son was a drunk too.

Who knows? With me not good at raising a child alone, maybe my son's bad, drunken behavior was my fault. A child raising a child, it wasn't easy raising him as a mixed-race, single mother in a poor neighborhood in Detroit. Unlike rich white, children named Brett, Todd, Buffy, and Mindy, who are pampered all their lives and attend the best schools, growing up poor wasn't the best start for a child.

We never had any extra money to do anything but to buy food, put gas in the car, and pay our rent and the utilities. Always staying close to home, barricading our front door and staying away from windows, we lived like rats afraid to go out for fear of being prey upon by gangbangers with guns, drug dealers, and pimps. Back then, long before they started cleaning up some of the neighborhood streets in readiness for their big riverfront project downtown at Atwater Beach in Detroit, it wasn't safe to go out, especially at night.

"Hey baby, where you goin'? Bring that black ass over here. I gots somethin' big and hard for you," said one black man or another who'd strip me naked, and rape me.

In the way my father did with my mother, if I gave them the chance they'd inject me with a needle, hook me on drugs, and hire me out on the street if I gave him the chance. I once knew a vice cop who said that he met some of the nicest people working vice.

'There go I before God,' I thought while glad that I didn't turn out like my mother.

Yet, the apple doesn't fall from the tree. With me already having forbidden sex with my son and yearning to have sex with him again, in the way that my mother was a prostitute, I was an incestuous whore. A product of my environment, I didn't know any better than to do what I was taught to do.

# # #

Not knowing what to say or what to do, I continued suggesting the obvious.

"Is there someone else you can call to track him down, a friend, perhaps," I helplessly asked?

As if she had been silently sobbing, she looked at me with tired, red, and sad eyes.

"I tried that," she said shaking her head. "I called all his friends. My calls all go to their voice mails. He probably went out drinking with them to celebrate his birthday. He does that monthly, sometimes weekly," said Tamara with a shrug while making excuses for my son, her husband.

Then, she fell silent while staring out the front window in the darkness as if she was waiting for and expecting him to somehow magically appear through the darkness of night.

"I'm sure he'll be home soon," I said gently rubbing her back. "Maybe he had to work late," I said making excuses for him again. "Did you try his office?"

She glared at me again before returning to stare out the living room window while the kids watched Halloween cartoons and Michael Jackson's Thriller.

"Even though I know he's had sex with prostitutes and strippers, he's a good provider and a good father to his kids," she said with resignation as if talking to herself. As if she needed to reconfirm her justification to convince herself to stay with him, she said that as if trying to make herself to believe it.

I don't know why I thought that, call it a mother's intuition, but it was then that I realized my son didn't love his wife. Having learned from my bad experiences with men, if he loved her, Jason wouldn't treat her in the way he had been treating her with his drinking and cheating. If he loved her, he'd be home with his family for Halloween and for his own birthday party instead of out drinking with his friends. If he loved her, he'd be taking his children trick or treating instead of leaving everything up to her.

Excited by the prospect of having a romantic connection with my son, it was then that I realized that my son was still in love with me, his mother. When he couldn't marry his mother, he looked for and found Tamara, a beautiful, mix-race, black woman, who was my physical clone. When he couldn't have sex with his mother, he found a woman who looked like me, walked like me, talked like me, laughed like me, and had a sexy and shapely figure like me.

As if I had given birth to her, as if she was my daughter, instead of my daughter-in-law, Tamara was my clone in the flesh. Looking at Tamara was like looking at myself in the mirror. The daughter I never had but always wanted, she more looked like my daughter than she looked like my daughter-in-law. Making myself dizzily delirious with incestuous delight, I had a sinking and sickening feeling that my son imagined having sex with me when having sex with his wife.

'Jason must think of me when kissing her, touching her, feeling her, and making love to Tamara. He must think of his mother when fucking his wife. He must think of me when she sucks his cock and he cums in her mouth,' I thought.

Like mother like son, having had the same sexual attraction before, in the way that my son was sexually attracted to women who look like his mother, I've been sexually attracted to men who look like my son. In the way that some men are attracted to women who look like their daughters, their sisters, their mothers, their mothers-in-law, or their sisters-in-law, it's not uncommon to have incestuous, sexual fantasies about the women they know. Rather than having incestuous sex with a blood related relative, they live out their sexual fantasies of incest by finding their clone.

# # #

It was after two in the morning when his headlights lit up the living room where I was sleeping on the couch. I heard his truck pull in the driveway, his door close, and my son unlocked the front door and stagger inside. Obviously, like father like son, he had driven home drunk. Luckily, he made it home alive. He made it home safe. He was lucky he hadn't killed himself or someone else. He was lucky that he wasn't arrested for driving under the influence of alcohol.

'What's wrong with him? He has a good job and a new truck. He has a nice house in a good neighborhood. He has a beautiful and supportive wife by his side and two, beautiful children,' I thought. 'Living the American dream, he has everything that I never had when I was his age.'

With me having a short marriage, just long enough for my husband to give his son a last name, he left me and our son not long after I had his baby. He never loved me. After impregnating me, giving him some credit, he did the right thing by marrying me and staying with me but not for long. Running out on child support, he left us to fend for ourselves. While my grandmother watched my baby, it was up to me to support the both of us while working full-time and going to school nights to earn my college degree.

'Jason is everything to his wife that I never had,' I thought while wishing I had a man like my son in my life. 'Nevertheless, he needs to get his act together, if not for himself or for his wife, he needs to be more responsible for his children. No child wants to grow up without their Daddy,' I thought. 'Just as no woman wants a drunk for a husband, no child wants a drunk for a Daddy.'

Ready and excited to surprise him, my son didn't know that Tamara had invited me to stay with them overnight for Halloween. When he didn't show up for his planned, birthday party and to take his kids trick or treating, he didn't know that his wife left him in frustration and took their kids to stay with her mother. He didn't know that I was sleeping on the couch. I wanted to surprise him at the front door with a big, birthday kiss but with him coming home so very late and so very drunk, my surprise was ruined.

Having had a taste of it with Jason's father, I could only imagine Tamara's sorrow. I was angry with my son for disappointing his children and upsetting his wife. He wasn't there to see them dressed in their Halloween costumes and to see their excited faces. He wasn't there to take them trick or treating and to pass out candy. He wasn't there to watch his kids go through their candy. Something he'll never get back, memories he missed, obviously, he'd rather be out drinking with his friends than to be home with his wife and children for Halloween.

Yet, now that I was home alone with my son, thinking that they were gone forever, my forbidden, incestuous, sexual feelings returned even stronger than before. Suddenly, wanting to suck him and fuck him, I was so horny for my son. I wanted to make love to him in the way we did that one-time before he was married. Wanting to give him his birthday, blowjob surprise and show him how much I loved him, I wanted to stroke his cock while sucking his cock before fucking his cock.

Ready for sex, I was as horny as I was sexually frustrated. Forget about surprising him for Halloween and for his 27th birthday, I wanted to sexually tease him. I wanted to incestuously entice him. I wanted to flash him my naked body in the way that I used to do when we lived together. I wanted to have illicit sex with my son.

'Happy Birthday,' I imagined saying before taking my son's cock in my mouth to give him a special, birthday blowjob.

# # #

Now that I was finally alone with him again, daring myself to do so, my perfect opportunity to show him how I felt about him, I wanted to flash him my naked tits and my naked pussy. Forget about wishing my son a happy birthday, with his wife and children not here, I wanted to have sex with him. I wanted to fuck and suck him in the way that I did when he turned 21-years-old. I wanted him to make love to me while kissing me, touching me, and feeling me everywhere.

I wanted him to feel my naked breasts while turning, twisting, and pulling my nipples. I wanted him to fingerfuck my pussy while rubbing my clit. I wanted him to slowly and gently slide his big, erect cock inside my warm, wet pussy and make love to me. Then, humping me harder and humping me faster, I wanted my son to fuck me. I wanted Jason to fuck his mother.

I wanted him to give me multiple, sexual orgasms with his fingers, his tongue, and his cock. Then, returning the sexual favor, I wanted to stroke his prick and suck his prick before fucking his prick. I wanted him to make love to me before fucking me. Then, after he fucked me, I'd blow him. I'd stroke his cock and suck his cock until he ejaculated his incestuous lust for his mother in my mouth and all over my face.

As if I had a fitful sleep, as if I had been tossing and turning all night, in anticipation of my son opening his front door and turning on the light, I kicked off the sheet. While pretending I was sleeping, I closed my eyes, raised my short nightgown to my waist, and spread my legs. With me literally and figuratively exposed and vulnerable, I was so nervous. I was so sexually excited. Just like old times, before he married and left me, I couldn't believe I was ready to flash my son my naked cunt.

Ready to sexually tease him and incestuously entice him, I not only wanted to surprise my son but also, I wanted to shock him. Ready to flash him my black, trimmed, naked pussy, as soon as he turned on the light, Jason would see his mother's naked, glistening wet cunt. A wet, warm place that he once loved to finger, lick, and fuck, albeit only a one-time thing, it made me so wet to know that my son would soon see and hopefully have sex with my naked pussy again.

"I love eating you before fucking you, Mama," he said when I finally agreed to have sex with him. "I can't wait for you to blow me. I can't wait for you to suck my cock. I can't wait to cum in your beautiful mouth and watch you swallow my cum," he said talking dirty to me while sliding a slow finger across my full lips.

Not done exposing myself, just before he opened his front door, I removed my naked breasts from my nightgown top. Jason loved my big tits. Now, as soon as he opened his door and turned on the light, ready to show my son most of my naked body, he'd not only see my naked cunt but also, he'd see my naked breasts too. It made me so sexually aroused to know that my son would soon see my naked pussy, my naked breasts, and my erect nipples.

# # #

As soon as he turned 18-years-old, years before I had sex with him, comforting one another, shocking to some but not to us, I allowed him to sleep with me in my bed. With me so lonely, I was so sexually and emotionally needy. While sleeping, I allowed him to hold me, cuddle me, and spoon me. Enjoying him sexually touching and feeling me as much as he obviously enjoyed touching and feeling me, I allowed him to feel my ass and breasts through my nightgown.