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Mother and son rekindle their incestuous feelings by having sex on Christmas.
Continued from Chapter 9:
In the way that his hand was on her naked breast before, his mother's hand was on his naked cock now. In the way he stuck his hand inside his mother's nightgown to hold her naked breast in his hand, he wished his mother would wrap her fingers around his prick and hold his naked cock in her hand. He wished his cock would throb and pulsate against her hand so that she'd take the hint and wrap her fingers around his stiff prick. Giving her a reason to stroke him and masturbate him, he wished she'd take the hint of him not only being sexually excited but also being horny and sexually frustrated.
If his cock did throb and pulsate, he wondered if she'd move her hand away when his naked cock came in contact with her hand. Or he wondered if she'd leave her hand there to continue to touch him before holding and fondling his big prick in the way that he touched, held, and fondled her big tit. He'd love nothing more than for her to hold his erect prick in her warm hand. He'd love nothing more than for her to wrap her fingers around him and stroke him in the way he so wanted to rub her clit and finger her pussy. He'd love nothing more than for his mother to masturbate him in the way he so wanted to masturbate her.
Maybe, if she was sleeping, instead of moving her hand away from his cock, she'd wrap her fingers around his big prick instead. An involuntary move on her behalf, his cock throbbed and pulsated by the mere warmth and touch of her soft, motherly hand. Then, when she didn't move her hand away, wanting and needing more sexual stimulation, he voluntarily throbbed and pulsated his cock as if he was having sex with her hand.
"Mom," he said.
He didn't need to say anymore for her to know his meaning.
"Oh don't be such a prude Michael. This is how I slept with your father. It isn't like I'm giving you a hand job," she said. "He always held my breast and played with my pubic hair when we faced one way and I held his cock when we faced the other way. Holding your penis in my hand gives me comfort," she said. "It's just my hand Michael. It isn't as if I have your cock in my mouth or in my pussy."
'Just her hand?'
Giving him one image, she gave him two more images. He imagined his stiff prick in her mouth. He imagined her staring up at him with her big, green eyes, while his hard, hairy cock was buried in her mouth. He imagined mounting his mother and his mother reaching down to place his cock by her wet cunt. Then, humping her and with her humping him, he imagined being inside of his mother again. He imagined making love to his mother before fucking his mother.
He wondered what else she'd say was okay to do because she did that with his father. Would it be okay for her to give him a hand job in the way she did seven, long weeks ago? Would it be okay for her to give him a blowjob in the way she did seven, long weeks ago? Would it be okay for him to cum in her mouth and to watch her swallow his cum? Would it be okay for him to lick her pussy while fingering her pussy? Would it be okay for him to give her an orgasm with his fingers, his mouth, and with his cock? Would it be okay for her to make love to him before fucking him, really fucking him hard in the way that he fucked her really hard while pounding her pussy Halloween night?
Now instead of just leaving her hand stationary on top of his prick, wrapping her fingers around him, she held his cock as if she was holding the handle while riding a streetcar. Immediately his prick grew harder and it didn't take him very long to have a full erection. Now, even if he wanted to, he couldn't stop his cock from throbbing and pulsating while in his mother's hand. Every time his cock throbbed and pulsated, it grew longer, wider, and harder.
So wanting to slowly hump his mother's hand, first getting an erection over feeling his mother's breast and now with his mother holding his naked erection in her hand, he couldn't wait to masturbate. Then, it happened. As if his stiff prick had a mind of its own, as if it was about to explode with cum, his cock grew harder than it's ever been before.
He needed to leave. He needed to go back to his own room. Before something terrible happened that they'd both regret in the morning, he had to stop this incestuous sex before he no longer could. As if she wasn't his mother but some woman he brought home for the night, there was just no way that he could have incestuous sex with his mother again without falling in love with her.
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"Maybe I should go to my room now Mom," he said knowing his big prick was ready to prematurely ejaculate.
Besides, he needed to masturbate himself. He needed to cum. If they weren't going to have sex, he needed to stroke himself while thinking about being in bed naked with his naked mother and having sex with her.
"Please don't go Michael. Not yet," she said releasing her hold on his stiff prick to take hold of his hand. She looked up at him with sad, lonely eyes. "I need you. I don't want to be alone. Not tonight, on Christmas Eve." She looked at her nightstand clock. "It's nearly Christmas. We should be together for Christmas if only sleeping in the same bed," she said looking up at him with a pitiful puppy dog look that he couldn't resist.
In the way that he needed her, his mother needed him. She looked at him as if she was so lonely. She looked at him as if she was so horny, as horny as he was. She looked at him as if she was sexually frustrated, as sexually frustrated as he was. She looked at him as if she sexually wanted him as much as he sexually wanted her.
How could he leave her? What son would leave his mother in her time of physical, emotional, and sexual need? This was it. This was the turning point in their forbidden, sexual relationship. It was one thing to have sex with his mother in their old live while living in a seedy motel in California, but it was another thing to have sex with his mother in their new life when living in their new home. Destined to be with her forever, he couldn't leave her.