Here's another story I wrote many, many years ago. What 18 yr old son hasn't fantasized about fucking his mother?
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The fiery disgust flashed in her eyes, when she heard me stammer,
"M-M-Mom.... I-I w-w-w-want to see y-you....... n-n-naked!"
She was totally speechless, a she stood before me in bra, panties, and half-slip.
I had followed her into the bathroom that morning, as she was getting ready to go to work. Dad had left a few minutes before to open the baby furniture store that they owned. Mom usually took her time getting ready, and left later.
For quite some time now, I had watch Mom getting ready for work. When she got up, she usually had some type of robe on... then after her morning toast and coffee... she'd take her bath, put on her bra and panties, and sometimes a half-slip and go around the house like that while making all her preparations.
I couldn't tear my eyes away from her body as she walked from room to room, and I would always try to find some excuse to be around her, as she stood at the mirror, putting on her make-up, or fixing her hair. Of course I had to steal glances at her ass and breasts, because to say Mom was prudish, would be a gross understatement.
In our house, I never ever, even heard the word sex. I never even heard a slightly off-colored joke, or even any reference to anything sexual. Mom's "cussing" was limited to an occasional, "God Damn", "Hell", or once in a while, "Son-of-a-bitch", or "Bastard". That was it! Dad was that way too, for that matter. The very first time I ever heard him say, "Fuck", was when I was 14, and I was in a truck with him, when some asshole driver did something really stupid. Neither of them would even tolerate any kind of sexual talk, jokes, or innuendoes, around them. I think, that to them, sex was something too dirty to hear talk of.
I don't think that Mom and Dad had sex very often, because, for as long as I could remember, they slept in separate bedrooms. Oh, on extremely rare occasions, late at night I would hear footsteps, and a bedroom door opening or closing. But, that was the only indication I had that anything at all was going on between them. I will have to say that they loved each other very much, and were very close, but, I'll also have to say, that I never even saw them kiss. Sure, once in awhile I'd see one give the other, a little quick kiss on the cheek or lips, if one was going on a trip or something.
Well, I've given you a little background on them... now about me. I dearly women's butts. Especially nice big round butts, and bubble-butts!! And I've seen many, many of them I'd love to byte... or at least nibble on (not to mention, hug, squeeze, caress, fondle, lick, and kiss). I don't really remember just when it was that I started admiring women's derrieres. I know that when I was a liddoo kid, of around seven, or eight, I would sit in a chair in the living room and look through the Sears catalog. And when I got to the women's lingerie section, I would become mesmerized at seeing all the women in bras and panties. I really didn't know what the fuck was happening to me, butt I would get this SENSATION in my crotch... and when I put my hand there, and rubbed, it felt soooo good! When I would take a bath I'd sit in the tub and wash my tiny pecker, over and over and over again, while thinking about those ladies in the catalog.
For many years, I was a "tit-guy"... my second grade teacher was an old gal of about 30, with fabulous tits, that stuck waaayyyy out there, especially when she wore a tight sweater... which was often. To this day, over fifty years later, a set of tits will make my mouth water and cause that SENSATION in my crotch. I don't spend 30 minutes sitting in the bathtub washing my dick, anymore. But,if I did, and anyone walked in me, I'd tell 'em, "Look, this is MY soap, and this is MY dick, and I'll wash it as fast as I want to." Now I sit in front of this screen... looking at some of the naked ladies I have on this puter. I guess I must have over 10,000 on hard-drives, and another thirty thousand, or so, on CDs. I run an adult web site which is predicated mostly on women's butts!!
I still love tits, but, when I see a woman on the street, in the mall, or in a store, the first thing I look at is her ASS!!! I mean, I can walk slap-dab into a post, if my eyes are glued on a fine lookin' butt, as it sashays ahead of me. I deeply admire a fine pair of thighs, hips, and a plumpish, curvy ass, especially one that has really curves outward, in the back and the sides. I would guess that I've really been "into" women's asses for about thirty years, though I kept my preference to myself, 'til the last couple of years. Yep, I've cum outta the closet!!! Now, I don't care who knows about it. And, I have to add the fact that I'm an extremely shy guy! I've become even more so during the past few of years, as I've grown increasingly reclusive, with absolutely no social life. When around ladies, especially for the first time, I'm like I was when I was fifteen. Palpitating heart, sweaty palms, and stumbling for the right words.
At the time of this story... I had just passed my 18th birthday... and was still very much a virgin. Shit, I'd never even felt a girl's tit. I know that you will find this difficult to believe, but I never even masturbated, until I was 17 or 18!!!!! I do remember having a lot of "nocturnal emissions", though. I can't recall just how I hid the evidence of those wet-dreams
Now to describe what I saw, when looking at my Mom in her "unmentionables". She was about five-two, and probably weighed between around one-forty or one forty-five. Not fat, but definitely not slender, either. She had great tits, that I'd guess to be 36Ds... with a enough sag, to make them extremely sexy too me. She was 43 at this time, and had what is referred to, as a mature figure. Mom had dark brown hair, and her beautiful brown eyes highlighted her face.
Even though this incident occurred back in 1954, most of it is permanently etched in my memory. That morning, as every weekday morning, I sat in a chair, pretending to be engrossed in the "Today" show on our little 16" screen. In truth, though, I didn't have the slightest idea what Dave Garroway, nor Frank Blair were saying, and didn't give a shit about the antics of that little chimp. My peripheral vision was taking in the sight of my Mom's ass and tits, as she scurried around. The more I looked at Mom, the harder my cock got! The harder my cock got, the more I'd try to rub and squeeze it, without letting on what I was doing.
Shit! I knew in my heart that these thoughts were wrong! I had no business looking at Mom this way, and damn sure shouldn't be having these kinds of thoughts. Compared to the kids of the 90s, I knew very little about sex. It sure as hell wasn't explained to me at home... so most of my sex education came in the boys room at school... listening to the other guys. I may not have known much, butt I did know that I wanted to see my Mom without her undergarments on!!! For weeks and months, I'd been thinking about it, and wondering how the hell I could make this fantasy come true. I had become obsessed with the idea, and it was driving me fuckin-nuts! God!! How I wanted to see that body... or at least touch the shiny material that covered that ass and those tits!!!!! How I'd love to be able to just rub my crotch against her!
More than once, I had followed her into the bathroom, with full intentions of telling her of my predicament. Butt, once in there with her... knowing what a prude she was, and knowing how wrong my desires were... I always chickened out, and made some excuse for being in there... like claiming I'd was looking for something. That was almost the truth! I WAS looking for something... the sight of more naked flesh. The sight of uncovered tits... and aureoles... and nipples... and ASS!
This particular morning... like most of the others... I stood up, and fixed my hard cock up against my stomach, so it wouldn't be as obvious in the baggy pants that we wore in the 50s. Since it was summer, I wasn't wearing anything on the upper part of my body.
She was standing at the sink, in front of the mirror, when I walked in. She'd just finished brushing her teeth, and looking in the mirror at me, I think she noticed me looking at the reflection of her bra-covered breasts. I looked up, as she turned toward me. With a look and tone of displeasure, she said,
"Why do always pick the times when I'm in here, to be looking for something?"
Sheepishly, and without actually making direct eye contact, I started stammering,
"Mom, there's s-s-something I've just got to t-t-tell you."
Some of the harshness left her voice, as she said,
"What is it, Buddy? You sound so worried. You know you can tell me anything."
