My Mom Is a Hot Mom

In my dream, I stood in a field of spring-green grass.

I was naked. All around me, in a circle no closer to me than 30 feet or so, stood all the people I knew and ever had known -- my family, my friends, teachers, bosses, coworkers, everybody. They were looking at me, but I wasn't embarrassed.

I turned around, my eyes scanning the encircling crowd, until I saw her, on the inner edge of the circle, looking at me: my mom. She wore a pretty sun dress, yellow with bright red flowers. I walked to her.

"Randy, what are you doing?" she asked me. "Why are you naked?"

"Shhh, mom," I said, my finger to my lips. "It doesn't matter. Just come with me."

I took her hand and guided her back to the center of the circle. I smiled at her and she smiled back, with love and puzzlement in her face.

Then I reached forward, to the neck of her dress, and with no effort I pulled it off her body. Now mom, too, was naked. Motherhood and adulthood had left their marks on her body; even in a dream I could see she was twice my age. But she was youthful and fit and beautiful, too. She was more than just a mom to me; she was the hottest woman on earth. I wanted her as my lover, in every way.

She kept her hands at her sides. She didn't try to hide her nude body from anyone, but she asked, "Randy, what are you doing to me?"

"I'll show you, mom," I said. "I'll show you and everyone."

And with that I took her hand and I bent my knees and I pushed against the grass, and I lifted into the air, my mom lifting with me. We flew, toward the clouds, and all the people we knew craned their necks to look at us soaring into the sky above them, fading out of sight.

When we reached the first cloud, I lay back and I drew mom's body on and over mine. The time had come to fuck her, and I pushed her thighs apart with one hand while my cock pushed up to enter her. But I missed. And when I tried again I missed again. I kept trying, but I kept missing. And over the fury of my effort I heard mom's voice, low at first but gathering in volume.

"Wake up, Randy," her voice called.

But I didn't want to wake up. I wanted to fuck her. I kept trying, but every time I thrust forward my cock missed its target. I kept trying and I kept missing.

"Wake up, Randy," mom kept saying, her voice growing louder and clearer.

I thrust harder, determined, at last, that my cock would reach its goal. I gave one more mighty push, but my cock missed again, and it hit her hip and bent at an angle at which it wasn't meant to bend. Ouch.

And then I woke up.

The first thing I saw when I opened my eyes was the white cottage cheese ceiling above me. The second thing I saw, after looking around, was an unruly mane of blond hair over my hips. It was mom. She held my cock in her hand and her tongue was out and its tip was no more than an inch from the engorged head. Mom looked at me, eyes sparkly with lust and mischief.

"Happy birthday, sleepy head," she said. And then her mouth opened wide and she took me in. No delay, no ceremony.

Heaven, indeed, was no dream; it was a place on earth, here in my bed, with my mom's wet and red lips wrapped tightly over the length of my tumescent cock. Today I was 20 years old, and in all my years I had never felt anything so good. It was the best birthday present I'd ever had.

Mom sucked me deeply, but not too quickly and with not too much pressure. The result was that she kept me in a high pitch of excitement and arousal, but without bringing me close to imminent release. I was glad of that, because I didn't want mom to stop; I wanted to delight in the feeling of mom's mouth on me as long as I could. I closed my eyes and focused all my attention on the sound and sensation of mom's cock sucking. Her head bobbed up and down and her mouth sucked me in and let me out in slow, luxurious cycles for several minutes.

Suddenly, mom stopped. I opened my eyes and looked at her. Her mouth was perched over my cock head, but it was closed, and she was looking at me.

"This is just a breakfast appetizer," she said. "You're going to have to wait for the main meal at your birthday celebration this evening."

"Mom, you can't do that!" I cried. "I'm going to die of blue balls if I have to wait all day."

"You're not going to die, Randy. You might get a little, hmmm, needy. But you need to be good and wait. I have work and you have work and school. No taking care of business yourself while we're apart, either. I promise you the wait will be worth it." She gave me a naughty smile.

"Does that mean we're finally going to . . .."

She cut me off.

"No. I'm not going to tell you what your present is going to me. It's going to be a surprise. But you'll like it. Now take a shower and then we'll have breakfast. You have school soon and you need to get ready."

Mom was right. I'd slept in, and I had a class starting in less than an hour. Mom left the room and I walked to the bathroom, my cock still rock-hard and sticking out straight in front of me. Under the hot spray of the shower, I was tempted quickly to bring myself off, but I didn't, mindful of mom's words. I would have to put up with intense sexual frustration for the day. I hoped it would be ended when mom and I celebrated my birthday that evening.

15 minutes later I walked into the kitchen, dressed for work -- khakis and a company polo shirt -- but still in bare feet. Mom was just finishing pancakes and sausages, two of my favorite breakfast foods. Her back was to me and she wore the short white waffle-pattern robe she'd worn before. It hit very high on her thigh, exposing the delicious back of her long and lightly muscled legs.

Mom was playing music from her phone, which lay off to the side. It was Warrant's "Cherry Pie," an oldie from the 1980s. A hair band, I recalled mom telling me once. I remembered seeing the video on YouTube. It had a hot blonde writhing around the studio in skimpy outfits and red lipstick. I thought it was funny that my mom and I both shared a taste for ancient, loud rock music. Well, it was ancient to me. Maybe not as much to mom.

You can be my cherry pie, mom, I thought.

I walked up to mom and give her a kiss. She turned to me, and that's when I saw that her robe was untied. It opened for a moment, giving me a flash of a nipple and a brief glimpse of the little slit between her legs. She smiled, and we kissed quickly.

"Good morning and happy birthday, son," she said. "Breakfast will be right up."

I went to the kitchen table and mom followed a minute later carrying two plates and food. She sat down with her robe still untied and gaping open like it was no big deal. She crossed her legs, hiding what lay between them, but on top a breast lay fully exposed to my hungry eyes. It was hard to concentrate on breakfast.

"Mom," I said to her after taking a few large bites.

"Yes?" she replied.

"You're driving me crazy. I'm still hard from this morning and from watching you. You gotta help me out here."

"Randy," my mom said to me. "I know it's your birthday. But you're going to have to be patient a little longer. You'll get your present tonight. Trust me, it will be better if you wait. You don't have a lot longer."

I paused, and I looked her in the eye.

"Does this mean we're going to fuck, mom?" I asked her. I knew it was a weird thing to ask my mom. But I couldn't help it. I wanted her so badly that my need overrode all sense of propriety.

"Randy," mom said. "That's not appropriate. You shouldn't assume anything. You'll like your present. But I wouldn't be a good mom if I told you what it was going to be."

Just then, the doorbell rang.

I think we both jumped a little. I know mom did, because the little robe parted and showed even more than a moment earlier, even if just for a moment. Mom quickly gathered her robe together to be decent, and she got up and walked to the door. I stood up but waited in the kitchen, grabbing a greasy sausage out of the skillet and munching it while standing up next to the kitchen island.

From the kitchen I heard the door open and then I heard a male voice conversing with my mom. It was my dad. I couldn't tell what they were saying, but I could tell that it was a tense conversation from the tone of their voices. After a minute of it the voices quieted, and the sound of footsteps grew louder.

Dad entered the kitchen, holding a gift bag. My birthday present, I was sure. He approached me, gave me a hug, and put the bag on the kitchen island next to me. Mom followed him.

"Happy Birthday, Randy!" he said. "How're you doing?"

"Great, dad," I said.

Dad wasn't one to linger over sentimental moments. He pulled away and walked around the kitchen, looking around him. Mom stood quietly next to me, watching him.

"You've done some nice things with the place, Inga," he said. "I like it." After taking his visual tour dad stood on the other side of the island from mom and me.

"So, Randy, open your present," dad said.

I pulled the wrapping tissue out of the bag, reached in, and pulled out the gift. It was a zoom lens, once that would fit my camera and that was better than the one I had. It was a nice gift, I had to admit; dad remembered the type of camera I owned, and he knew what kind of lens would work with it.

"Wow, dad, this is great!" I said with genuine enthusiasm.

I'm really going to like taking naked photos of mom with the camera lens you got me, dad, I thought to myself, but of course I didn't say it.

I looked at mom, next to me, and she looked at me, and I could tell she knew exactly what I was thinking. She smiled.

Dad asked me how school and work were going. We had a pleasant conversation. I could not help but notice how closely mom stood next to me. As dad and I talked I felt her hand touch mine, behind the island, out of dad's view. Her hand pulled my hand toward her body, until my fingers were brushing against the hem of her robe. I knew what mom wanted. I had to move my hand and arm carefully to avoid tipping dad off about what I was doing, so I shifted my body while standing there to distract his attention. While I did so my hand parted the front of mom's robe and went between her legs, which mom had parted cooperatively. My fingers found her sex and one of them dove into her. Mom was wet. I knew she would be.

Dad and I kept talking, while mom stood close to me and my finger wiggled inside her pussy. It must have looked odd to dad to see mom, in a very short white robe, and, obviously, nothing else, standing so close to his son, but he didn't say anything about it. I noticed dad's eyes frequently straying to mom's chest, however, where the robe had parted sufficiently to show some enticing cleavage. Dad may have left mom for a younger woman, but I knew he knew she was beautiful, and her beauty still had a hold on him.

She's mine now, dad, I thought, as my finger enjoyed exploring mom's depths.

After we talked for a few minutes, dad said he had to go, and mom pulled away from me, my finger popping out of her quietly. Dad and I hugged and said goodbye. He and mom said goodbye as well, but with no hugging. He left.

"Were you arguing?" I said. "It sounded like you were arguing."

"Same old stuff," mom said. "He's never happy with the divorce settlement and wanted some more things back. I told him no. Nothing to worry about."

I paused, and said, "That was naughty, what we were doing back there. Right in front of dad."

"What dad doesn't know won't hurt him," mom said. "And it is your birthday."

With that comment, we went back to the kitchen and finished breakfast together. Mom kept her robe on, and nothing further happened between us, but the sash holding the robe together looked awfully loose, and the result was that her thighs and cleavage were giving me an enchanting show. I was hard throughout breakfast. I knew mom was teasing me.

"You have a long day, today, don't you, sweetie?" mom asked me.

"I do," I said, bummed. "School, then work. I'll get off at 6:30." I couldn't imagine how I was going to hold it together thinking about my mom and what might happen when we celebrated my birthday.

"Well, be home at 7 p.m. sharp," she said. "Can you do that?"

"I will be right on time, mom," I said. "Not one minute late."

"That's my boy," she said with a grin. Her hand went to the sash of her robe. She untied it, and it fell open and exposed her. I closed the distance between us and pulled the sides of her robe all the way back.

"Gosh, you're beautiful, mom," I said. It was true. Her nude body was a vision.

"I'm glad you like what you see," she said. "I like when you look at me."

"I want to look at you as much as possible," I said.

"Randy," mom said, uncertainty suddenly clouding her face, "Is this O.K.? What we're doing? I'm not going to mess you up with what we're doing, am I? I want this, but sometimes . . . I don't know. I feel guilty. I'm your mom. Moms and sons aren't supposed to do this sort of thing."

I tore my eyes away from her hot body and tried to read the meaning in her eyes, which were searching mine.

"It's O.K., mom," I said. "You're not going to mess me up. I want this. I want you. When we were standing in the kitchen across from dad and I had my finger in you, I felt like you were mine. I love that feeling. I love you."

"I love you, too, Randy," she said. "And I like that feeling too -- that feeling of being yours. I want that too."

She put her hands on my shoulders and squeezed them. Then we kissed. I felt just a flash of mom's tongue, and then she pulled away.

"You need to get to school, and I have work to do. Time to get moving."

She closed her robe.

"Keep your cell phone close by," she said. "I may check in with you, from time to time."

"OK," I said, puzzled. Mom obviously had something in mind, and I wondered what it was.

I wanted to spend more time with her to figure it out, but I had a class to go to and I had to hurry.

20 minutes later I was sitting at a desk in the middle of a large, half-full classroom listening to a professor drone on. It was hard to focus. I felt a buzz. It was my phone; the ringer was off out of respect for the class. I held it in front of me below the edge of the desk, so the professor wouldn't see me looking at it. I swiped it and the texting icon showed that a message had come in. I remembered what mom said so I opened it.

I almost jumped in my seat. The photo showed mom from the back, just inside the front door of the house, which was wide open. Mom's hands were on the floor behind and to the side of her, and her legs were spread wide, and she was completely naked. She'd set the phone on a timer, and she had positioned herself where a neighbor in just the right spot would have seen her nude and splayed open. It was shockingly daring, and incredibly erotic.

It was hard for me to believe I really was seeing my mom doing this -- my mom, the respectable, well-liked neighbor and highly regarded human resources manager at a prominent company. I couldn't believe she'd take a risk like that for me.

I became aware suddenly that there were people all around me and that curious eyes might see something I didn't want them to see. I held the phone very close to my chest for one last look and then put the phone away.

The image on the phone was burned into my brain, however, making it even more difficult to follow what the professor said. My body twitched, and I tapped my hands and feet for the remainder of the class. Finally, the class ended, and I escaped.

I thought another text might follow that one quickly, but it didn't. I had to endure two more equally boring classes in a high fever of sexual agitation. At lunch I met with a few friends. Alex and Tucker were among them. We sat at a functional but unlovely concrete bench outside a cafeteria. Alex and I ate sandwiches while Tucker wolfed down slices of oily pizza.

"Hey, Randy," Alex asked, between bites, "How's your mom? Sure was nice of her to help at the football game the other day."

"Yeah," said Tucker, not bothering to swallow the chunks of pizza in his mouth first, "She puts on a great show. The best."

I glowered at Tucker.

"Damn, Tucker," Alex replied, "you are such an asshole! You shouldn't say that to Randy."

The implication was that it was fine for him to say things like that to Alex and Mason when I wasn't there.

"Come on," said Tucker. "We all know Randy's got the hottest mom in the universe. Randy has to know it. And his mom knows it, too. That skirt she wore --"

"Tucker!" I said. I couldn't be that mad at him after all my own impure thoughts about her, but I had to feign disapproval at least. And to tell the truth, I did disapprove somewhat. I felt a twinge of jealousy. My mom is mine, I thought. Stay the fuck away from her, Tucker, I thought.

"All right, all right," Tucker said, raising a pizza-filled hand in surrender. "We'll talk about Mason's mom instead. She's not hot at all. Will that make you guys feel better?"

"Let's leave the moms out of it," said Alex.

"Amen to that," I said.

The phone pinged. I'd turned the volume on again.

I pulled it out and turned the face of it so neither Tucker nor Alex could see it. I was quite sure I knew what was coming and there was no way I was going to share it with them.

I swiped the phone screen and opened the photo from the text message.

It was mom, again, from the waist up. She was dressed in a cream-colored blouse. She appeared to be in a conference room at work, sitting at but facing away from a large table. A good chunk of the table was visible behind her, as were six co-workers sitting around it. I was puzzled. She looked very pretty, of course, but there was nothing sexy about the picture.

Then another ping came. I pulled up the photo from the new email.

Holy shit, I thought.

This photo was taken at the same place, presumably a moment later, mom still turned away from the table. But this photo only showed mom from the waist down. Her knees, parted, were on the sides of the photo, and smack dab in the middle of the photo, framed by her thighs and strikingly short skirt, was her pussy, uncovered by panties. On the fringes of the photo I could make out the legs of other people sitting at the table around her.

I couldn't believe the risks mom was taking. I had no idea how she could pull it off. However she did it, it had its effect. I was amazed and aroused.

"New girlfriend sexting you?" Tucker asked.

I looked away from the phone to my friends, and I realized my mouth was hanging open.

"No, no," I stammered. "It's . . . it's nothing."

"Doesn't look like nothing," Tucker said. "But whatever. You don't have a new girlfriend, do you? You'd tell us, wouldn't you?"

"No, I don't," I said, "and yes, I would. No girlfriend."

I snuck another glance at the photo and put my phone away. It was going to get tricky to conceal my relationship with mom if she kept doing shit like this.

We finished lunch and got up to leave for our next classes. Alex and Tucker wished me happy birthday before we parted.

Mom didn't send any new photos while I sat through my last class of the day, horny and distracted. When class was over I got in my car and drove straight to work.

The store was full of eager customers, who kept me busy and focused away from thoughts of my hot, exhibitionist mom. I had to keep my phone in my pocket. It was a violation of company policy to spend personal time on your phone during work hours.

An hour into my shift, I was talking to a couple about television options when I felt the familiar buzz in my pocket. I wanted to pull the phone out and look at the message, but I had to tend to my customers first. Time dragged as they asked me question after question and vacillated about which TV to choose. Finally, they made their decision. They bought the TV and left. I'd made another customer happy.