Mom & Son's Valentine's Day Sex

There are no characters under the age of 18-years-old in this story.

*****

With her constant up-skirt peeks and down-blouse flashes, Michael's seduction of his mother is second only to his mother's seduction of him.

"Cheer up, Mom," he said. The sound of her sweet, imagined voice brought him back to reality from his sexual fantasy of putting his mother to bed, stripping her naked, and having sex with her naked body. His sexual daydream vaporized before his incestuous, horny eyes once he faced the reality of his mother sitting across from him in their living room. "It's Valentine's Day. The day of love. Happy Valentine's Day, Mother," he said again.

He walked to her and leaned down to give her another peck of a kiss on the lips, the lips that he imagined parting with his tongue to kiss her deep, wet, and long. Wondering what it would be like to French kiss her, he couldn't stop himself from imagining French kissing his mother. Wondering what it would be like for her to French kiss him, he couldn't stop himself from imagining his mother returning his kiss of sexual passion with her kiss of sexual passion.

Continuing his sexual fantasy of having intimate, sexual relations with his mother, he couldn't help from imagining his mother sucking his prick with those same, full, red lips. As if she was sitting there with his hard, hairy cock in her mouth, he couldn't stop from imagining his mother blowing him. Just as he'd love to part her lips with a French kiss, he'd love to part her lips with his cock for her to suck him. He couldn't help from imagining cumming in her mouth and then, giving her a cum bath, he couldn't help from imagining cumming all over her beautiful face, in her hair, and across her naked breasts.

'If only she knew what I was thinking, wouldn't she be shocked,' he thought? 'Only, if she knew what I was thinking, she'd be embarrassed and I'd be sexually excited. Besides, after my little masturbation show, she obviously knows exactly what I'm thinking. She knows that I want her. She knows that I want to have incestuous sex with her MILF of a body.'

"Happy Valentine's Day, Michael," she said returning his peck.

He gave her a loving smile while trying his best to hide the sexual lust that he had for her.

"As I was saying, we're both healthy and relatively happy," he said esoterically speaking as if he really believed what he was saying when he was just as sad as his mother. "You have a good job and I'll be getting a good job soon. Having much to be thankful for, we have more money than the average person out there who's struggling to put food on the table," he said.

He said what he said for the benefit of himself too while trying to get her to realize her blessings and forget her bad memories that all related his father dumping her for his 24-year-old, whore of an ex-girlfriend. As much as he was home alone with his mother, she was home alone with her son. He only wished that she sexually wanted him as much as he sexually wanted her. He wished he could hold her, comfort her, cuddle her, and spoon her. He wished he could sleep with her on Valentine's Day night.

"You're right. I know you're right," she said. "Blindsided that he'd want such a young, slutty girl over me, it's the rejection that hurts the most, even after all these years. With the holidays the most difficult, your father still haunts me as if he's dead instead of just being married to someone else. I'm sorry that I'm sad."

Acknowledging what she confessed, he gave her an understanding and comforting smile. Only, to be honest, he was glad that his whore of an ex-girlfriend was gone. To be even more honest, he was glad that his father was out of the picture too. With no one to stop him but his mother, he had a better chance of sexually soliciting his mother now that everyone was out of the way.

"I refuse to allow Dad to ruin another holiday with his child bride, whore of a wife," he said shaking his head and laughing. "It's hard to wrap my brain around that my ex-girlfriend is now my step-mother," he said with an angry laugh. "I just hope that when I'm his age, I don't lose my mind and want a woman half my age."

While sitting across from her, and hoping to enjoy the sexy sight of his mother's beautiful body, he hoped she'd give him another up-skirt flash of her bright white, sheer, bikini panties. He enjoyed seeing her pussy slit, her camel toe, and the darker shadow that her blonde, pubic hair made in her sheer, white panties.

While sitting across from her, and hoping to enjoy the sexy sight, he hoped she'd give him more down-blouse views of her long line of sexy cleavage and her revealing, low-cut bra. He loved his mother's big tits. Whether she flashed him her panties or her brassiere, he loved seeing forbidden peeks of his mother's sexy underwear.

With his mother feeling so glum, he didn't even feel guilty for wanting to take sexual advantage of her by seeing some part of her sexy, underwear clad body. He knew, if only she'd allow him, that he could make her feel better by giving her sex. Not understanding the sexual attraction that he had for his mother, it was all about incestuous sex with him. It was all about wanting to have sex with her. If he couldn't have sex with his mother, seeing glimpses of her underwear clad body to masturbate over all that he saw later, her flashes erased his horniness but increased his sexual frustration.

Still horny after his mother caught him masturbating and watched him cum while staring at his cock, he needed to have more sexy images of his mother to masturbate over later. It helped that he watched her touching herself while she stared at him stroking his cock. He enjoyed watching her fingering her nipple with her hand up her short skirt and down inside her panties. He only wished that her hand was his hand. He'd love nothing more than to finger her nipple while rubbing her clit. He'd love nothing more than to finger fuck his mother.

If nothing more than a sexual fantasy that he'd surely masturbate over again, with him having hope beyond hope to have a sexual relationship with his mother, he imagined his mother inviting him to sleep with her. Just like in SusanJillParker's story, Mom Sleep with Son on Christmas, he'd love to rewrite that story to read, Mom Sleeps with Son on Valentine's Day. While sleeping in the same bed with his mother, he'd love to hold her, hug her, cuddle her, and spoon her.

Instead of sleeping, he imagined touching and feeling his mother in all places where he should never touch and feel his mother as she slept. With her nightgown bunched around her waist, he imagined peeling down her covers at first light to stare at her naked ass. While being careful not to awaken her, he imagined touching, feeling, fondling, and squeezing her naked ass. He imagined stealthily fingering her pussy from behind. Hoping that she'd think she was dreaming, he'd love to get his mother's pussy wet. He'd love to hump his mother while she was sleeping.

He imagined seeing more of his mother's sexy, shapely body than he ever had before. Without a doubt, if he was invited to sleep with his mother, especially if she was a little drunk, he'd be sexually molesting his mother as if she was a Hollywood starlet and he was Harvey Weinstein. Only, unfortunately and alas, nothing more than another one of his sexual fantasies, just as he knew she'd never have sex with him, she'd never invite him to sleep with her. Besides, if ever she invited him to innocently sleep with her, he could never sexually behave.

Difficult for him to curb the sexual lust that he had for his mother, he stared down at what she was showing of her long, sexy, and shapely legs. He was glad that she wore more short skirts than she did pants. With her swimming and still playing tennis every week, proud of her legs, she had the legs of a dancer. She could dance for him any day, as long as she was dancing around a pole while removing her clothes. How hot would that be to have a mother who was a stripper? How hot would that be to see his mother naked?

'Oh, my God, I'd love to watch my mother strip herself naked,' he thought while imagining putting dollar bills in her G-string.

* * * * *

With blue her favorite color, she was wearing his favorite, short skirt, the navy blue one that parted at the bottom even when completely buttoned. The contrast of seeing her bright, white panties encapsulated by her dark blue skirt, drew in his eyes and caused him to stare even more. As if he was staring a fire in a fireplace, he stared at the sight of his mother's exposed panties.

Even when completely buttoned, when she stood and leaned forward, he could still see her panties peeking out at him in between her buttonholes. Calling this skirt her panty flashing skirt, his favorite skirt, this skirt gave him the best chance of him seeing her panties even when she was standing and especially when she was bending in front of him. Last Christmas, hoping she'd only wear these panty flashing skirts, he bought her this skirt in every color, red, black, brown, green, and grey.

'Peek-a-boo,' he thought whenever seeing a flash of her white panties. 'Peek-a-boo,' he thought while wishing he had the nerve to reach his finger in between her open button holes and finger her pussy through her exposed panties. 'Peek-a-boo,' he imagined saying while fingering his mother's pussy.

Even with her knees tightly cemented together, there was still a triangular opening above the top of her shapely thighs that, unless she crossed her legs, gave him a continual view of her panty clad crotch. As much as he loved seeing flashes of his mother's panties, he loved seeing her panty clad crotch more. He loved seeing quick glimpses of her camel toe, her pussy slit, and the darker shadow that her blonde, trimmed, pubic hair made through her sheer panties. No doubt imagining more than he was seeing while undressing her with his eyes, even though he had never seen her naked, he had a good sense of that his mother looked like without her clothes.

Every time she wore this skirt, she rewarded him with flashes of her white, attention grabbing panties. He loved his mother's panties. He loved sniffing her worn panties when masturbating. He loved going through her lingerie drawer to touch, hold, and finger her underwear while pretending that he was touching, holding, and fingering them while she was wearing them.

Every time she flashed him her panties, she made him so horny. He wondered if she was deliberately or accidentally flashing him her panties. He wondered if she knew he could see her panties every time she stood, sat, and/or crossed and uncrossed her legs.

Every time she flashed him her panties, he wanted to finger and lick her pussy through her panties. Being that she flashed him her panties so very much, he couldn't help but wonder if she deliberately flashed him her panties. Like mother like son, he wondered if his mother was an incestuous exhibitionist in the way that he was an incestuous voyeur. If she wouldn't have incestuous sex with him, he'd love to spend his days with his mother flashing him. He'd love to spend his nights having his mother catching him masturbating over the thoughts of having sex with her.

'How hot would that be if my mother was purposely flashing me bits and pieces of her underwear clad body,' he thought? 'How hot would that be if my mother continually watched me masturbate while I pretended that I didn't know she was there watching? A game I'd love to continually play with her, how hot would that be for my mother to touch herself while I stroked myself?'

He wished his mother was his sexy slut. He wished his mother was his incestuous whore. He wished his mother sexually wanted him in the way he sexually wanted her. He wished his mother would put the sexual moves on him in the way that he'd love to put the sexual moves on her. He wished his mother sexually seduced him in the way that he hoped to sexually seduced her. He wished his mother would get him drunk in the way that he'd love to get her drunk.

As if the couch was complicit in helping her flash him her panties, whenever she sat on the couch in this skirt, her hem climbed to the middle of her shapely thighs. His favorite view to see, she always showed him a lot of her gorgeous legs. She made him wish he could slide a slow, purposeful hand up her short skirt. She made him wish he could touch, feel, and lick his mother's legs before licking her higher and licking and fingering her pussy through her panties.

'How hot would that be to touch and finger my mother where I'm not allowed to touch and finger my mother? I wish I could finger my mother's pussy through her panties,' he thought.

As much as he loved her big breasts and her shapely buttocks, he loved her shapely legs too. Nothing more than a sexual fantasy, he wished he could move his hand all the way up her short skirt and in-between her legs to nirvana. He wished he could cup his mother's pussy through her panties while kissing her. Then, once she was wet, he wished he could push her panties aside with his index finger and rub his mother's clit while finger fucking her pussy.

* * * * *

Earlier, before flashing him her panties, from the panty line that he saw when she was leaning at the waist to stoke the fire, she was wearing panties, just panties. 'Praise the Lord,' he was glad that she wasn't wearing pantyhose. Unless she was wearing nude, sheer pantyhose without panties that showed her pubic hair, pantyhose prevented her from flashing him her panties. He hated pantyhose but he loved panties. He had a much better chance of her flashing him her panties when she wasn't wearing pantyhose. He'd rather see panties than a naked pussy. He didn't understand women who didn't wear panties. Panties are sexy and going without panties is gross and even unhygienic.

Someone should flog and then strangle the gay, fashion designer who invented pantyhose with pantyhose. Someone should force him to wear pantyhose. He was glad his mother would rather put tanning lotion on her legs than to wear pantyhose in the winter. If it was too cold, she'd just wear pants. Yet, fortunately for him, whenever she was in the house, she almost always wore a short skirt.

'Pantyhose? What in the Hell were you thinking? What in the Hell is wrong with you? Are you nuts? Are you insane? Have you utterly lost your mind? Unless she's an older woman with varicose veins, putting pantyhose on shapely legs to cover a panty clad pussy is sacrilegiously un-American,' he imagined saying to the inventor of pantyhose. 'Shame on you! Shame on you! Take that and that,' he imagined horny, American men flogging gay, fashion designers with pantyhose.

In violation of the Mile-High Club, there should be a law that woman cannot board a plane while wearing pantyhose. Sorry but shapely and attractive women shouldn't be allowed to board a plane, including stewardesses, especially stewardesses, while wearing pantyhose and/or tights. He hated unrevealing tights as much as he hated pantyhose.

"Sorry, Miss," Michael imagined a TSA agent saying. "Unless your 50-50, 50-years-old and 50-pounds overweight, you must remove your pantyhose before boarding the plane. Pantyhose offends too many horny men who live and breathe in hopes of seeing your panties."

In order to board the plane, he imagined women reaching beneath their short skirts to remove their pantyhose right there in pubic.

"Sorry, sorry," he imagined women voicing their apologies to men who live and die to see flashes of their panty clad pussies. "What was I thinking? I have no idea what I was thinking to wear pantyhose in public. Shame on me."

* * * * *

Hopefully losing her inhibitions while drinking, he hoped that if she drank enough wine that she'd forget who she was with and where she was. Hopefully, while drinking, he hoped she'd part her knees more with her inebriated morals, lessened modesty, and relaxed sexual inhibitions. Giving him more to masturbate over later, he'd love nothing more than to see a constant and continual, up-skirt, flashing view of his mother's bright white, sheer, panty clad crotch.

Then, giving him plenty to masturbate over later, he hoped that she'd lean over him to give him a continual down-blouse view of her breasts. He loved seeing his mother's bra clad tits as much as he loved seeing her panty clad pussy. There was something so sexually exciting about seeing a view of the tops of her breasts, her long line of sexy cleavage, and her sexy low-cut bra. Even better than seeing her naked breasts, in the way that he loved seeing his mother's panties, he loved seeing her sexy bra too.

Fortunately for him, with her not thinking that he'd be lusting over her, she was comfortable and immorally, immodest enough around him to always not sit like a lady. Fortunately for him, with her not as careful as she should be around him, in the way she would be with any other man, she was always inadvertently flashing him up-skirt peeks of her panties and down-blouse views of her bra and cleavage. Fortunately for him, that is until now that she caught and watched him masturbating, and heard him call her name, she obviously didn't suspect that he was as sexually attracted to her and was masturbating over her until now.

After catching him masturbating over her and hearing him calling out his incestuous lust for her, she obviously now knows his sexual attraction to her. He'd love for her to catch him masturbating again. He'd love her to stare at his naked, erect prick. He'd love for her to watch him cum while hearing him calling out her name.

Oddly enough, until his father was no longer around, perhaps because he had more sexual opportunities while in college, he wasn't as sexually attracted to his mother before as he was now. Once his father wasn't there to invade upon his private time with her and interfere with his sexual feeling for her, his incestuous lust grew in the way of a wildfire. Once his father was no longer around to criticize how she dressed and how much she showed, she stopped wearing bathrobes over her sexy nightgowns. Seldom wearing pants, she wore more short skirts.

'I love you, Mom,' he thought. 'I want to have sex with you.'

It wasn't until his father left his mother for a woman half her age that Michael appreciated his mother more. It wasn't until his father left his mother for his ex-girlfriend that Michael felt and commiserated with her pain. With them always laughing and whispering as if they kept secrets, now that his father was gone, he grew even closer to his mother. Now that his father wasn't around passing his judgment and his disapproval on him and on her, he had more sexual opportunities to hopefully enjoy his mother in all manner of undress.

With him having no other woman in his life but his MILF of a mother, his sexual thoughts more turned to having forbiddingly inappropriate sex her than to having normal and appropriate sex anyone else. Especially when she was inadvertently or deliberately flashing him her cleavage, bra, and/or panties, his mind was sexually focused on his mother. Especially when he was masturbating while imagining seeing her in her sexy nightgowns, her bra and panties, topless, and/or naked while having sex with her, he thought of no one else but her.

* * * * *

"Sorry for my sadness. Don't mind me. I don't want to ruin your holiday, Michael," she said staring at the fire that burned brightly in the fireplace before returning her focused attention to him. "Back before we were married and before you were born, most of my Valentine's Days were with your father. Our day of love, we exchanged romantic gifts on Valentine's Day before having a night of intimacy," she said letting out a long, soulful sigh. "I can't help it but, having known him for thirty-years, I still miss him."