Losing The House But Winning Mom 02

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Mother invites her son to sleep in the same bed with her.

Continued from Chapter One:

"May I have one of your pillows?"

Jennifer looked at him with confusion.

"What are you doing?"

He returned her look of confusion with his look of confusion.

"I'm getting ready for bed," he said while trying to get more comfortable in readiness to sleep in the chair. "I'm tired from loading and unloading the truck. It's been a long day," he said yawning and stretching before letting out a big sigh.

As if she was looking at a man in a bar or at a club, she looked at her son with sexual interest.

"It has been a very, long day," she said.

She continued looking at him while watching him feebly trying to make the chair more comfortable and into a bed.

"I don't know which took more of a toll on me, the physical labor of moving all of that furniture or the emotional drain of losing our home," he said looking at his mother.

In the way she looked at the Sheriff evicting her, Jennifer looked at her son with steadfast determination. She was a strong willed woman.

"The combination of both is what drained you," said his mother. "But you can't sleep in a chair honey," she said with a nervous laugh while looking at him as if he was insane. She paused to look at him while biting her lip before blurting out what she said next. "You'll sleep in the bed with me," she said giving him an inviting smile and hitting the bed with her open hand.

* * * * *

Chapter Two:

Now, he was the one who looked at her as if she was insane.

"What? Mom? No," he said looking at her as if he wanted to do more than just sleep with her. "I can't sleep in bed with you," he said while the thoughts of having wild, forbidden sex with his mother filled his head with incestuous lust.

He felt his cock hardening with the thoughts of sleeping next to his mother. He felt his cock hardening with the thoughts of seeing something or touching something of his mother's body that he shouldn't see and/or touch during the night while sleeping with his mother. His lips were saying no but his cock was saying yes.

"Don't be silly Michael. We can share the bed. It's a queen sized bed," she said looking at the bed and then looking from the bed to look at him. "We have plenty of room. You stay on your side and I'll stay on my side. We'll sleep together in this bed. Okay?"

She invited him to share her bed. What man in his right mind would turn her down? Only, she was his mother and he was her son.

"I'm comfortable enough here in the chair Mom. Really, don't worry about me," he said suddenly looking pathetic. He knew by giving his mother that look of self-pity that she'd never allow him to sleep in the chair. Definitely, he'd be sleeping in bed with her. "Besides, I can't sleep anyway with all the noise outside and the motel filled with people coming and going."

She rolled her eyes and sighed in the way she does whenever he was being difficult and/or stubborn.

"Please. You must sleep with me. You need your rest," she said pausing to look at him and as if to read him before giving him a valid argument why he should forsake his modesty and sleep in the same bed with his mother.

When she said that he must sleep with her, he wasn't thinking about sleeping when sleeping with his mother. He was thinking about sex. He was thinking of having sex with his mother. Now he wondered if she knew what she said when she said, you must sleep with me. Now he wondered if she was sexually teasing him in the way that she teased him about her being glad that she didn't wear her short skirt and flashing him her panties on such a windy day.

"Mom, I don't know. That would be really awkward sleeping with you in the same bed," he said hoping that she wouldn't take no for an answer.

She made a sad, pouty face that she does whenever she wants him to give in and allow her to have her way.

"Besides, it's the only way we'll stay warm. We'll keep one another warm. This room is already cold and will soon get even colder. The thermostat doesn't work," she said wrapping her arms around herself while shivering.

Stay warm? His mother wants him to keep her warm. Oh, God, this just gets better and better. He'd like to keep his mother more than warm. He'd love to keep her sexually satisfied.

Instead of walking to the bed, Michael walked to the heater to play with the knobs and buttons. Nothing. Obviously it was broken. Then, he walked over to the phone and picked up the receiver.

"I'll call the office. Maybe they can fix it or give us another room," he said.

Just as he said that, more kids knocked at their motel room door.

"Trick or treat. Trick or treat. Trick or treat."

She looked at him in the way she looked at him when she told him they didn't have any food and had no money to buy any. Now with the bank not taking all of their money and no longer having to pay house insurance, the utilities, and the upkeep, at least now they had enough money to pay for the room and to buy food. Except for their terrible living accommodations, they were in a better financial place now than they were before.

"Don't call the office. I don't want trouble," she said. "Besides, this is the last room they had. We're not the only ones who lost their house today. The Sheriff's Department was out in full force today. Seemingly we're not the only people down on their luck," she said. "Besides, the motel owner gave me ten dollars off of the daily price of the room because there's no heat in this room. The heater is busted and won't be fixed until sometime next week," she said pointing to the silent unit.

As if he was a homeless man and by definition he was, instead of a 22-year-old man with a good job that earned decent money, he removed the blanket from the chair to wrap it around himself.

"What about the hot water? Do we have hot water for showers tomorrow?"

Happy to report, as if glad to give him the good news, she gave him a motherly smile.

"We have hot water. I already checked. The broken heater had no effect on the hot water. Thank God," she said. "You know how much I enjoy my long, hot showers."

He wondered if his mother masturbated. He wondered if his mother masturbated while taking a long, hot shower. He remembered all of the times he wished he had the courage to barge in on his mother while she was taking a shower. He always wanted to see her topless. He always wanted to see her naked.

Opening her bathroom door on the pretense that he had to pee, but with them having three bathrooms, that excuse wouldn't float. Instead, he just imagined what she looked like without her clothes while masturbating himself. Now, she invited him not to have sex with her but to sleep with her. What are the odds of his sexual fantasy ever happening? He hadn't slept with his mother since he was a child after having a bad dream.

Imagining himself in bed with his mother, he could feel his cock pulsating in his pants. He wanted to say yes but he couldn't. He couldn't sleep with his mother. He just couldn't. He couldn't trust himself sleeping in the same bed with is mother.

"Mom," he said.

He looked at her as if she was nuts when, already filled with incestuous lust, he was the crazed one and not her. While only concerned for his welfare, she was a normal mother who wanted them to stay warm and he was a perversely perverted man sexually attracted to his mother. His sexual dream come true, he'd love nothing more than to sleep in the same bed with his mother. He'd love nothing more than to accidentally on purpose touch and feel some part of her shapely body while she slept.

"What?"

She gave him the smile that only a mother can give her son.

"I can't sleep in the same bed with you," he said shaking his head side to side as if he needed that extra bit of negativity to stop him from climbing in bed with her.

* * * * *

He wanted to add that the reason why he couldn't sleep in the same bed with her was for her own protection against his inappropriate, incestuous, sexual advances. He wanted to tell her that he couldn't trust himself not to touch her and feel her as she slept. He couldn't trust himself not to lift the sheet to see if her nightgown was high enough for him to see her naked ass or pussy. Now she looked at him as if he was nuts while he looked at her wishing she was drunk and horny.

He remembered that night two years ago when she came home drunk from her 40th birthday party. Her girlfriends took her to one of those CFNM strip club shows. She was so drunk. She was so horny.

As soon as she opened the front door after her girlfriends dropped her off, she fell in his arms. Kissing and kissing him, he had the urge to slip her his tongue but he didn't. He didn't dare. He couldn't. He had the urge to feel her where a son should never touch and feel his mother but he didn't. He didn't dare. He couldn't. If he had French kissed her while touching her and feeling her where no son should ever touch and feel his mother, how would he face her in the morning?

He had the urge to put her to bed. He imagined undressing her while touching her and feeling her everywhere. Only, he didn't. He couldn't. Yet, that didn't stop him from masturbating while imagining French kissing his mother and feeling her through her clothes. That didn't stop him from imagining removing her clothes and putting her to bed topless and/or naked. Only, he didn't. He couldn't.

"Why not? Why can't you sleep in the same bed with me? I don't smell," she said laughing and lifting her arm to smell her armpit. "And I promise not to fart," she said laughing again.

He looked at her in the way that a man would sexually and lustily look at a woman when alone in a motel room with her instead of in the way a son should be lovingly and morally looking at his mother. She was his mother and he was her son. How could he even think of taking sexual advantage of her? Why was he so tortured with having forbidden sexual thoughts for his mother?

If only she knew what he was thinking, he'd be so embarrassed. If only she knew what he was thinking, she'd tell him to get another room. Only, there weren't any other rooms. This room was their last room. The motel was full.

"Because you're my mother and I'm your son," he said averting his stare when he caught himself staring at the shape of her ample breasts through her blouse and bra. Instead of telling her the truth, instead of telling her that he didn't trust himself to sleep in the same bed with her, he gave her a lame excuse. "People will talk."

For all that he was incestuously and sexually thinking about his mother, now he looked at her with embarrassment, guilt, and shame and she looked at him with anger and frustration. The best excuse, the only excuse that he could come up with was that people would talk. Well, that excuse was enough to set her off on a tirade.

"People?" She laughed. "What people? We don't have any people," she said with rage. "With no one lifting a finger to help us, we're all alone in this world. Just as you're the only one that I have, I'm the only one that you have. It's just us against the world Michael. It's just us against the world."

She looked at him with tears in her eyes.

"Sorry Mom," he said.

Not wanting to upset her any more than she already was, instead of going to her to hold her and hug her, he just stood there and stared at his mother. Afraid to touch her, he feared that he'd try to kiss her while feeling her through her clothes. Besides, afraid to touch her when she was like this, he knew she needed to have her moment to vent. She needed to rant and to rave. She needed to get it all out of her system. She needed to think. She always came up with a plan and/or an idea to move them higher up the ladder of the food chain after she thought about what to do next. Once she cleared her mind of old problems, she always found the solutions to the new ones. Leave it to her, she always came up with an idea before developing a plan.

Yet, with her always in control before, seemingly she was losing it now. With him always trusting her judgment before, he didn't know if he could trust her judgment now. Maybe, with her getting pregnant right after graduating college, still angry more than twenty years later that she didn't live her dream of having the ideal life, she was getting too old to continue to fight. Maybe her days of battling the demons that hid in the dark to prey on the helpless and the powerless are over. Maybe with her unable to fight the good fight anymore she had resigned herself to accepting the misery that was now her life. With her protesting and taking a stand against those people who abused their power and their influence, maybe now she realized, as one, lone woman against a barrage of rich and powerful men, that there's nothing that she can do.

"We had no one offering us a place to stay," she said with her voice shaking and her finger wagging. "Even after I told them all that we were losing the house and were going to be put out on the street, not willing to beg, our friends and neighbors didn't lift a finger to help us. As if we were diseased and were already gone from their lives and from their minds, they turned their backs on us, closed their doors, and shaded their windows," she said.

Having gone through it all with her too, he looked at her with understanding eyes. Even when she was this angry, she was so pretty. Even when she was out of her mind with rage, he wanted to hold her and kiss her while feeling her through her clothes. A sexist remark and yet another incestuous thought, maybe she needs to get laid.

He'd love nothing more than to make love to his mother. He'd love nothing more than to fuck his mother. He'd love nothing more than to pound her pussy until she had orgasm. Then, maybe she'd be so grateful that he gave her an orgasm, with his cock, she'd give him one with her mouth. He couldn't help but wonder if giving his mother hot sex would relax her. Only, with him her son and she his mother, giving his mother hot sex would no doubt make her even more crazed.

"Mom, I'm sure that if they knew how bad it was, they would have helped us," he said trying to calm her.

Instead he riled her even more. She looked at him with fire in her eyes. She looked at him as if he was the enemy.

"They saw us standing out in the street with our furniture. They knew we were out there. They saw you loading the rental truck. Still no one lifted a finger to help us," she said looking as if she was about to cry. "They didn't even offer us a cup of coffee or ask where we were going?"

Michael looked at his mother with sadness. She was all he had. He didn't want her flipping out now. He didn't know what he'd do if he didn't have his mother in his life.

"Mom, it's okay. We'll get through this. Don't worry," said Michael. "Calm down. Take a breath. Relax," he said.

Only when he looked over at her, having seen her like this before, she was getting angrier instead of calmer. As if she was Granny Clampett jumping up and down on the front porch while holding a shotgun in readiness to shoot revenuers, he was glad that his mother didn't have a gun.

"When I think about all the food and booze that I put out every Halloween to entertain the whole neighborhood, now that we're in our time of need, not one person offered their help. Well, they can all go and fuck themselves. Do you hear me?" She looked up at the ceiling. "Fuck you too God because there is no God for something like this to happen to good people. It's apparent to me now that God is dead but the Devil is alive and well and he's right here sitting beside me on this bed in this stinking motel room in Thousand Oaks, California."

Michael walked over to his mother and took her in his arms to give her a hug. When hugging her, instead of thinking about losing the house and instead of thinking about comforting her, perversely and incestuously, all he could think about was that he could feel the back of her C cup bra through her blouse with his horny fingers. When he hugged her, he imagined having sex with his mother. When he hugged her, all he could think of is how good it felt to feel his mother's firm body against his hard body. When he hugged her, he imagined kissing her while feeling her through her clothes.

If he was horny before, after hugging his mother he was even hornier now. Holding his mother, his dream woman, made him sexually want her even more. He wished he could have sex with her. While hugging her, he so wanted to reach down and feel her ass while squeezing her ass but he didn't dare. Not wanting to disrespect her, especially at a time like this, she had already been through enough. She didn't need him making an incestuous, sexual pass at her.

Besides, his mother wasn't like that. She wasn't a slut or a whore. She wasn't into incest in the way he was into incest when thinking about having sex with his mother whenever he was masturbating himself. Knowing his mother, she probably doesn't even masturbate. Knowing his mother, she probably doesn't sexually think about him in the way that he sexually thinks about her. Knowing his mother, she'd think him a monster if ever he made his incestuous feelings known by making a sexual pass at her. Especially at a time like this, when she was so upset over losing the house, how dare he even think of having sex with his mother?

"Don't upset yourself again Mom. What's done is done. We did everything we could to keep the house. We fought the good fight," he said knowing that he was lying and that they were helpless and unable to put up any fight against the bank taking their home.

With her clinging on to him, hanging onto him and holding him tight as if he was her husband instead of her son, he imagined leaning down to kiss her. He imagined parting her lips with his tongue and French kissing his mother. He imagined making out with his mother while feeling her beautiful body through her clothes. With him living in a small room with his mother while continually breathing in the same air, feeling as if he was even more part of her than just being her son, his incestuous thoughts were inflamed and amplified.

"We never should have bought that house. That house was evil from the start," she said looking like she was going to cry again. "The Devil lived in that house."

Michael kissed his mother on the forehead even though he so wanted to kiss her on her lips.

"Don't get yourself upset all over again. It's over. The worst has happened. Actually, that's not even the worst that could have happen. We're both healthy and alive," he said. "Tomorrow is a new day and our fresh start. We'll look for a place to stay this weekend. This isn't so bad," he said looking around the small room. "There's everything we need here and food is just a block away."

* * * * *

In the way she had always encouraged him and made him feel better about his failures and his disappointments, he did the same for her. They were their own cheering club. Soon to find out, he wondered what it would be like living in this small room with his mother. Definitely, it wouldn't be so bad. They liked one another. They were not just mother and son, they were friends, best friends.

Yet, living in such a small place and a suffocating space with his mother would be so much better if he was sexually intimate with her. Even though he knew he'd never know what it would be like to be intimate with his mother, he wondered what it would feel like to kiss her, French kiss her. Even though he knew she'd never agree to have sex with him, he wondered what it would feel like to make love to his mother. Then, suddenly feeling perversely perverted, he wondered what it would feel like to fuck his mother, really pound her pussy to orgasmic pleasure. Humping her harder and humping her faster, he'd love to hear her breathing hard in his ear.