My Mother My Lover
I moved out of the family home not long after I turned 18. I had found a good job in the city and to cut down on the commute, I had decided to rent a small apartment closer to my work. I managed to find a suitable place, but it took the combined incomes of my girlfriend and me to be able to afford living there.
About six months ago I felt my life was falling apart. In quick succession I lost my job (a forced redundancy) and my girlfriend (who cheated on me). I was facing a mini-crisis - it felt like a mid-life crisis, but I was only 20 years old! The only thing I could do with no immediate job offers and no savings was to ask my parents if I could move back in with them, at least until I found my feet again.
My father, Dave, was nonchalant about it all. His only comment was for me not to expect him to give him a job... something about nepotism not being a good look for his company.
My mother, Sami, was overjoyed that her 'baby boy' was coming home again. As far as she was concerned, I should never have left in the first place. I think that she was rapt to have someone to talk to and to keep her company around the house during the day.
She is, without a doubt, one of the most attractive women I know. She is a natural redhead with pale almost porcelain-like skin, a beautiful and bountiful pair of breasts (which I now know to measure 38") sit atop a slender waist, wide hips and long, slim legs. The whole package is kept in shape with regular visits to the gym and swimming laps in our backyard pool. Her most striking features though were on her face: piercing emerald-green eyes and luscious lips under an unremarkable, but still cute, nose. All my friends made comments about her such as being 'the sexiest MILF in the neighbourhood,' but to me she was just 'plain Mum.'
Maybe it was because I hadn't seen her in a while or I simply hadn't noticed before, but during the past two years in my absence her wardrobe has undergone a subtle change. Gone were the nondescript jeans, loose tops and shift dresses that she used to favour, replaced by a series of low-cut tops and t-shirts, and short skirts. The overall result accentuated her impressive bust and displayed a dark but inviting cleavage. If there was one thing to say about my mother is that she looked hot, especially when she went braless (which was more commonplace nowadays). She had become a hot cougar, and I began to agree with the comments my friends were making about her being one sexy MILF.
To my astonishment, I started getting hard-ons if I was in the vicinity of my mother with nasty thoughts crowding my mind.
"This is wrong,"
my brain told me,
"You're not supposed to have these thoughts about your mother."
But still the thoughts and images persisted.
I also began to have fantasies about making love to her, even though a small part of my brain said that it is somehow wrong; but my dick had other ideas and was thinking for itself.
My masturbation sessions took on a whole new strategy. While most men would fantasise about fucking celebrity women or their favourite porn stars, I would be imagining making love to none other than my beautiful mother! My favourite fantasy involves me stripping my mother naked and then her doing the same to me before we start having an enthusiastic 69 makeout session. We would then fuck like bunnies until finally I cum hard and I imagine spraying my mother's face and tits with my hot seed.
I feel too ashamed to tell my mother about the fantasies I have with her in the starring role as my lover because I am full of misgivings about the consequences if I did.
Should I tell my mother how I feel when I'm close to her? How will she react? Will she reciprocate my feelings? Or will she think of me as some sick perv? Or worse?
were just some of the unanswered questions running through my mind. With my mind so confused, I made one rational decision: my fantasies would have to remain just that... private fantasies.
To stop getting involuntary boners, I managed to avoid my mother for the next couple of days. One morning I was finishing my breakfast when my mother cornered me. To my relief, she was wearing the most unsexy clothes imaginable - her old nondescript dressing gown and fluffy slippers. There was no chance of me getting an unwanted boner.
"Chris, you've been avoiding me these last couple of days and I need to ask you a question. Do you think I'm attractive?" she asked bluntly.
"Mum, you are the most beautiful woman I know," I answered truthfully, even though I was thinking what a strange question to ask at the breakfast table.
"Are you saying that because I'm your mum, or do you truly think that I am a desirable woman? A MILF, I think you call it." She looked at me with those killer green eyes that seemed to pierce straight into my soul.
This was so surreal that I hesitated before answering because I was unsure of where this conversation was heading, and I was scared of embarrassing myself.
"Uh, I think the latter; despite what you're wearing right now."
"I am only wearing this so you wouldn't get distracted," answered my mother. "I need a truthful answer now, have you ever fantasized about fucking me?"
"What the fuck?"
I thought.
"Did I hear my mother correctly?"
I could feel my cock instantly tenting my shorts from this conversation and one of my fantasies flashed through my mind. I said to my mother, "Mum, what did you say? I think that it is totally inappropriate for a mother to ask that sort of question of her child."
My mother was clearly annoyed with my answer. "We're only talking, and I'll decide what is or isn't appropriate here. So, I will ask you again... have you thought about fucking me?"
I swallowed hard as I decided to answer truthfully. "Mum, I know that it is morally wrong to think like that, but there is nothing else I think about these days. All my sex fantasies involve you; I can't help it. Like I've told you before, you are just so hot and sexy. I can't even stay in your vicinity without getting a boner."
