Mom & Son Discuss Masturbation

Mom & Son Discuss Masturbation, Ch. 04

Part 10: "Do you masturbate?"

He looked in his mother's green eyes. They were pretty. Like two glistening emeralds staring back at him, he's always been mesmerized by his mother's jewel like eyes. Most people have brown, blue, or hazel eyes, but she had green eyes. He supposed they were hazel but they always looked greener, especially if she was wearing something green.

Born with the genetic mutation, Distichiasis, that gave her a double set of long eyelashes, they say that Elizabeth Taylor had deep blue eyes that appeared violet. His mother was born with Distichiasis too, a condition that caused men to stare at her beautiful eyes. With some women her age already giving up on their looks and sexuality, letting themselves go and even packing on the pounds, even without her hair done and without her wearing makeup, she was still a very pretty and sexy woman.

An old movie buff in the heyday of Elizabeth Taylor, Katherine Hepburn, and Lauren Bacall, in the way she carried herself and articulated her words, she sometimes reminded him of Dina Merrill, from the original Mission Impossible TV series of old. Only, according to his father, being that she was much bustier than Dina Merrill, she looked more like Lee Remick with blonde hair from the old Paul Newman, James Stewart, and Glen Ford movies that he always watched. Yet, his favorite actress, the one with the best body, his father was fixated on Angie Dickinson when watching her old reruns, especially when she played Sgt. Pepper Anderson in Police Woman. He'd proclaim to anyone who'd listen, especially when he had been drinking, that his wife looked just like her. Admittedly, his mother did look a little like Angie Dickinson, especially when she dressed up as a police woman one Halloween.

Influenced by his father, Jason is a movie buff too. Because of how beautiful his father thought his mother was, when Jason lived at home ten years ago, he'd masturbate himself while imagining he was having sex with Dina Merrill, Lee Remick, and Angie Dickinson instead of having sex with his mother. Easier to imagine having sex with his mother when pretending she was a movie star, he couldn't imagine having sex with his mother then as he's willing to imagine having sex with her now. He wondered if Dina Merrill, Lee Remick, and Angie Dickinson had sons, and if they did have sons, if they were as sexually aroused by their mothers as he was by their mothers and is by his own mother.

Only, this morning, barely 6am, she was wearing makeup and her blonde hair was fixed too. Moreover, she was wearing perfume. Funny how he didn't notice any of that before. Too busy staring at the tops of her meaty breasts, instead of her hair, he didn't notice that her hair was already coiffed. Too busy staring at her long line of cleavage, he didn't notice she had already made up her eyes. Too busy staring at the big impressions her hard nipples made in her nightgown, he didn't notice her lips were painted red. Too busy ogling his mother's nearly naked body when the refrigerator's open door light illuminated her, he just perceived her as he has always done, as his sexy MILF of a mother.

Then, he wondered, duh, why was she wearing makeup and perfume, and why was her hair already fixed? She never does her hair and makeup at this hour of the morning. It was then that he remembered hearing her shower running in his sleep. She took her shower while he was still sleeping. That's odd. Content to lounge in bed while watching TV, until she gets up to make coffee, she never showers that early. Now here she is showered, with her hair fixed, and wearing makeup, something he could get used to seeing, he wished she looked like this every morning.

It was so early, too early for even him to be up, he's not usually up at this hour of the morning, especially on a Saturday morning when he doesn't have to report for work. Only, after all that happened last night with his mother catching him masturbating, he woke up horny. He couldn't sleep. Wanting to masturbate, after hearing his mother walking around in the kitchen, he decided to come downstairs.

He wondered, is she going out? Does she have an early morning doctor's appointment? Or maybe, he'd like to think, that she fixed her hair and was wearing makeup and perfume just for him. A sexual fantasy that took hold of him as if this was his reality, he liked to think that his mother was looking especially pretty this morning just for him. Instead of thinking of her as his mother, he preferred thinking of her as Dina Merrill, Lee Remick, or Angie Dickinson. Instead of thinking of having sex with his mother, even though they're old and/or dead now in the case of Lee Remick, he'd rather think of her as his very own personal movie star. Instead of thinking of her as his mother, he preferred thinking of her as being his older, cougar of a sexy girlfriend.

Only, a long stretch, other than her catching him masturbating and her flashing him her tits at the kitchen table and flashing him her panties whenever they played Scrabble, other than a bit of exhibitionism and voyeurism, nothing sexual has ever happened between them. Other than him always masturbating with the thoughts of imagining his mother naked while having sex with her, this is the first time that they've had a conversation about masturbation and/or about sex. With her big breasts demanding his focused attention, this is the first time she sat at the kitchen table without having the modesty of wearing a bathrobe. This was the first time that he's seeing so very much of her beautiful breasts.

Now with her opening the door with this discussion about masturbation and with her telling him not to be embarrassed because he masturbates, he needed to ask her outright if she masturbates too. Somehow not thinking her human and perceiving her above base sexual feelings such as the self-abuse of masturbation, he couldn't imagine his mother masturbating. While she pulled, turned, twisted, and fingered her nipples, he couldn't imagine her with her nightgown up to her waist, her knees spread, and her fingers inside of her while she wiggled all over her bed. He couldn't imagine her using a vibrator, a dildo, or looking at pictures of naked men.

Unable to go there and unable to hear her, he couldn't imagine his mother moaning while having an orgasm. Putting how saintly he felt about his mother aside, he needed to ask her his question. He needed to know her answer. For him to take the next step across the line of incest and for him to think of her as a woman instead of as his mother, he needed to know if she masturbates too.

This was it. It was now or never. He may never have the opportunity again of asking her sexual questions that he has now with this open and honest conversation about masturbation. This may be the start of something very beautiful or this could be the beginning of something very bad.

Afraid of poisoning the well and ruining their close mother and son relationship by going too far with his probing, sexual question, he had a difficult time treating her as a potential sexual partner which is what he was really hoping to do. Making sense to him, he figured, unless she had an early morning doctor's appointment, if she wasn't interested in having sex with him, she wouldn't have dolled herself up at this early hour of the morning. Right? He figured that if she wasn't as sexually interested in him as he was sexually interested in her, she wouldn't be sitting across from him with her breasts spilling out of her nightgown. Right? Taking a sip of his coffee as if he was taking a sip of scotch for courage, while staring at her long line of cleavage that seemingly continued forever in a valley of sexual delight, he braced himself before asking her his question.

"Do you masturbate?"

She looked at him looking at her before repeating his question.

"Do I masturbate?"

One didn't need to be a mind reader to know what she was thinking. By the sexually aroused look on her face, one didn't need to be a mind reader to know that she does masturbate. With the mere mention of the question, now he was able to see his mother pleasuring herself in her bed and/or in her bathtub. He paused to look at her while imagining his mother masturbating herself. He paused to look at her while imagining her naked. He paused to look at her breasts while imagining having sex with her.

"Somehow, I can't imagine you masturbating," he said nervously while obviously hinting for her to tell him more about her masturbating herself.

Forget about her masturbating, now he couldn't help himself from imagining getting out of his chair to stand beside her. Pulling out his prick, he imagined offering it to her lipstick decorated mouth while he reached his hand down her low cut nightgown to feel and fondle her breast while fingering her nipples. Forget about her masturbating, he couldn't help himself from imagining her blowing him and actually sucking his cock before cumming in his mother's beautiful mouth. No matter if she was Dina Merrill, Lee Remick, Angie Dickinson, or his mother, he was horny and he needed to cum whether by his own hand or by her mouth.

* * * * *

Part Eleven: Mary confesses her personal sexual secrets to her son.

Finally getting somewhere in an intimate albeit incestuous sexual place where she wanted to be with her son, Mary looked at Jason with a sexy smile while imagining herself masturbating him as he masturbated her. As if he was masturbating herself now, she imagined him feeling her breasts, fingering her nipples, and rubbing her clit while she fondled and stroked his cock. A mutual masturbation fest, how hot would that be for them to masturbate one another?

In the way that some women considered giving a hand job or even a blowjob as not really having sex, she wondered if masturbation between a mother and her son would be deemed incest or not really having sex at all. Perhaps masturbation would be deemed incestuous but surely, in this modern and sexually open generation, mutual masturbation wouldn't be deemed as having sex. Would it? It wasn't as if they were licking, sucking, and fucking. They were just rubbing and stroking. If anything, as if giving one another a massage, they'd only be stroking, rubbing, and fingering one another. What's the big deal? Certainly, there's no harm in a mother touching and feeling her son and a son touching and feeling his mother, is there?

"Of course I masturbate," she said eager to discuss her sexual fantasies with him while hoping he'd cross the incestuous line first by discussing his sexual fantasies with her.

Enjoying the warmth of her coffee, Mary held her coffee cup in both hands as if she was holding his cock with two hands and was about to raise his prick to her lips. They remained silent for a long moment with her looking at him and him staring into her eyes before continuing to stare at her exposed cleavage. Proud of her breasts, she loved her tits and she loved that he was staring at her tits while, hopefully, lusting over her sexually. Seldom showing off her breasts to anyone but her husband and now no longer to even him, she was sexually excited to show her son all that he was seeing of her while wearing her sexy, red nightgown.

In the way that he stared at her tits, something that no man has done in a very long time, he made her feel sexy. He made her feel young and sexually viable again. Making her feel like a woman again instead of an old wife and mother, he made her feel alive sexually. After her husband left her for someone else, a much younger woman and a stripper no doubt, after being so rejected by a man who supposedly loved her, she never believed that she could feel sexy again.

While watching him staring at all that he could see down her open nightgown top, Jason's uninterrupted gaze made her sexually aroused. In the way that he looked at her, stared at her, and leered at her made her want to show him more than less. Not covering herself from the leering heat of his stare by moving her hand to close her open top or folding her arms across her breasts to limit his view, instead she leaned forward to show him even more of what he was obviously hoping to see. Enjoying the sexual attention her son paid her, with her suddenly enjoying being an exhibitionist, she allowed him his voyeuristic fun. Enjoying sexually teasing him, she was having fun playing this game of exhibitionism and voyeurism. With much of her cleavage already exposed, she wondered how much of her breasts he could see. She wondered if he could see the tops of her areolas or even her nipples.

Only, a delicate situation, baffled what to do next, she didn't know how to proceed. She didn't know what to do to take the next step to bring this sexual teasing to the next level of them having an incestuous, sexual relationship. With her suddenly showing him so very much of her breasts, sexually teasing him as much as any woman should who's not his mother, she wondered what he thought of her. She wondered if he thought she was hot. She wondered if he was as sexually attracted to her as she was sexually attracted to him. She wondered if he thought she was just a foolish, horny, old woman hoping for one last sexual hurrah.

Just as she could easily and willingly go beyond the reality of him being her son, she wondered if he could easily and willingly go beyond the reality of her being his mother. Being that she was only his lover in her fantasies, in reality, she didn't want him to think of her as a slut or as an incestuous whore. Yet, in deference to her being his mother, she still hoped that he'd think of her as a sexual woman instead of only as his mother. She hoped that he'd want her as much as she wanted him. If his erection and leering stare at his breasts was any indication of his sexual lust for her than this may be the start of something unbelievably good.

Nonetheless their obvious sexual interest in one another, they were both stuck in limbo. Stuck with him showing her his stiff pajama clad cock and her showing him the tops of her breasts and her sexy, long, line of cleavage, she didn't know how she could get him in her bedroom. Even though the distance from the kitchen to her bedroom wasn't very far at all, the road to him being naked and in her bedroom with her naked too was indeed a long road to travel. With her already more than ready and willing, she didn't know how to get him naked for her to get his cock in her hand, in her mouth, and in her pussy. Only, surprising even her, he was about to take the next step for her.

* * * * *

Part Twelve: "What do you think about when pleasuring yourself?"

"Just curious," he said biting his lip. "If you don't mind me asking and you don't have to answer if my question is too personal but," he said with a pause. He looked from her eyes to her breasts before looking back up at her eyes again. "What do you think about when you're touching yourself and pleasuring yourself?"

Bingo! Good question. Now that was a good start to begin their incestuous ball rolling. Wanting to confess that she thinks about him but not wanting him to think badly of her, playing it safe with her being his mother, she wanted him to tell her first what he thinks about when masturbating.

"You first," she said with a naughty twinkle in her eye while looking at him as if he was an available man she met at the supermarket instead of her son. "If you tell me what you think about while masturbating, I'll tell you what I think about when masturbating," she said leaning even more forward to rest her elbows on the kitchen table and to stare in his eyes as if she was having a conversation with the bartender at a bar.

Only, when she leaned forward like that, a well-rehearsed move, with her nightgown leaning forward and opening with her, she knew she was flashing him even more of her breasts. Having practiced this move in her mirror several times before, she knew that he could see the tops of her meaty breasts and her long line of cleavage. Obviously by his stare, unable to stop himself from looking, leering actually, with him an active participant in her game of sexual teasing, incestuous seduction, and exhibitionism and voyeurism, he was staring right down her open nightgown top as if she wasn't even wearing a nightgown at all.

With the lustful heat of his stare, she could feel her nipples erecting, growing hard, and pushing against the thin material of her sheer nightgown. With him obviously enjoying the down nightgown view of her C cup breasts, with the thought that she was so wickedly exposing the tops of her breasts and cleavage to her son, she could feel a familiar sticky wetness between her legs. So long as he didn't take offense to her being salaciously sexy, no longer feeling like his mother but rather feeling like such a slut, she liked the feeling of being an incestuous whore.

Now with her showing him so much of her tits, and with her not having practiced leaning this far forward in her mirror, she wondered how much of her breasts he really could see. Hoping he could, if he couldn't see them before, she wondered if he could see the tops of her areolas now. Hoping he could, if he couldn't see them before, she wondered if he could see her hard, erect nipples now.

"Gees, Mom, I don't know if I can do that. I don't know if I can tell you what I think about when masturbating. I'd be so embarrassed to tell you what goes through my mind when I'm playing with myself," he said taking a nervous sip of his coffee.

Acting as if it was no big deal to her, she rolled her eyes and sighed in her effort to put him more at ease.

"Don't be embarrassed," she said in a soothing and calming motherly albeit sexy voice. "Tell me what do you think about when masturbating? If you tell me what you think about when masturbating," she said giving him a sexy stare. "I'll tell you what I think about when masturbating myself," she said.

As if there was a silent drumroll of suspense, in the way that she thinks about him naked when masturbating herself, she wondered if he was going to confess that he thinks of her naked when masturbating himself. In the way that she thinks about having sex with him when masturbating herself, she wondered if he was going to confess that he thinks of having sex with her when masturbating himself. She only hoped to God that he sexually wanted her as much as she sexually wanted him. Now or never, she'd discover soon if they were embarking on an incestuous, sexual relationship or not.

This was it. This was finally it. Hopefully, her son was going to take the first step across the imaginary line of incest by telling her that he not only thinks about her naked but also that he imagines having sex with her. Jason was finally going to tell his mother that he wants her sexually as much as she wants him sexually. Once he confesses his incestuous, sexual secret, then she'll reciprocate and confess her incestuous, sexual secret too.

"Actually, no big secret, that's an easy question for me to answer," he said with a laugh. "I imagine having sex with Jennifer Nettles. I imagine seeing her naked."

She was crushed. As if her sexual excitement immediately dissipated in the way of a plug coming loose from a wall socket, she could feel the color drain from her face. Thinking that he did, he didn't want her. He wanted Jennifer Nettles, an imaginary figment of his imagination.

Nonetheless, encouraged that he confided in her, yet she was disappointed that he chose someone he could never have over someone he could have right here and right now. Moreover, there was no way that she could compete with the imagined image that he had of a beautiful, sexy, and young, country western singer. Seemingly, other than flashing her tits now at the kitchen table and her panties whenever they played Scrabble, what else could she do to make her son sexually want her?