Mommy is All I Want For Christmas

Jim would lay his arm across my stomach and wanting him to touch me, wishing he'd lift up my nightie and lay his fingers on my pussy that was already wet and aching for his touch, I could feel his cock hardening, before throbbing against my ass. The feel of him throbbing like that against me, so hard and so strong, I could imagine what his cock would feel like, if it was in my hand, buried in my pussy, deep up my ass, or inside my mouth. It excited me to believe that he wanted me, as much as I wanted him. I'd let him have me, if only he'd touch me and if only he'd take me. He needed to take me because I couldn't do it on my own. Falling in the dark abyss of incest, I needed for him to push me over the edge.

If only he'd take what was rightfully his, his Dad's woman, now that his Dad was dead, his woman to have, that is, if he wanted me. I imagined pretending that I was sleeping, while he explored my breast, fingered my nipple, and lifted my nightgown up, so that I was totally exposed. There was a time when they did that, a brother being responsible for his sister-in-law, after losing her husband. If we lived during those times, when the west was wild and full of Indians, my son could have me, take me to protect me, if he wanted me, just as he could have me now, if he had the hankering to fuck me. I'd suck him, I would.

Every night, I hoped that, when he got an erection, which he got one a few times a night, that his cock would slip out of his boxer shorts. In my feigned sleep, I imagined my hand accidentally brushing by his stiff member and touching it with my fingertips, while pretending I was drunk and dreaming about Ray and making him believe that I thought he was his Dad by calling his name.

"Ray, fuck me. Make me cum. I need to blow you, Ray."

Then, while knowing full well it was my son, I'd hold his cock in my hand, before taking his big dick in my mouth. I'd suck him, as if his prick was my personal pacifier. I imagined him taking advantage of me, when he figured I thought he was Ray.

I imagine him wrapping my hand around his cock and moving his hips back and forth to make me give him a sleeping hand job. Then, pushing down on my shoulder, I imagined him making me give him a blowjob, with me still thinking that I was blowing Ray, instead of him. It excited me to think of my son forcing me and using me in that way.

I'd let him, if he did. Yeah, he looks so much like his Dad that I could pretend he was Ray. That would work for me. A way for me to preserve my reputation, he'd be the guilty one taking advantage of his poor, grieving, half-asleep, drunken mother like that. Shame on him and not on me. Yet, how could I do that? Incest was so wrong, a lonely, horny mother having sex with her grieving, hurting son.

I so wanted to reach my hand behind me to feel him, to stroke him, and to take him in my mouth to suck him, before allowing him to make love to me. With Ray so sick, it had been a long time since I had made love and here was this young buck of a boy/man/son with a hard cock in bed with me. I was filled with as much incestuous lust, as I was filled with a widow's sorrow. Yet, it was the incestuous lust that made me forget about my grief and I thank my son for doing that for me, even if only while vicariously imagining him fucking me, instead of him fucking someone else, a younger woman who wasn't a relative.

A widow and her son, even though I never understood how an incestuous relationship could start before, I understood how it could now. I was living it every day that passed without Ray, while living with Jim. As if he were my drug of choice, he intoxicated me with his good looks, easy smile, and hard body. I couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to kiss him, really kiss him, French kiss him, while feeling his naked chest pressed against my bare breasts. I could nearly feel his hand reaching down to cup my ass, before pushing me back on the bed to make love to me.

"Fuck me, Jimmy. Fuck Mommy. Fuck your mother. Make Mommy cum. Mommy needs to cum," I wanted to say, I wanted to tell him, but didn't. I would, if only I could. Instead, my dialogue would have to be different.

"Jimmy, no! Please! Stop! I'm your mother. This is so wrong. Oh, please stop. You're ripping my clothes," I imagine protesting, before he filled my mouth with my cock and then filled my wet pussy with the full length and girth of him.

During the night, when my nightgown climbed higher, I allowed it to go higher than my waist without pulling it down. My nightgown rising and being bunched up around my waist always woke me up and I always tugged it down before, when I slept with Ray. Now, that I slept with his son, my nightgown exposing me like that, as if this inanimate piece of cotton material could read my mind, made me horny to know that if he peeked beneath the covers, he'd have an eyeful. He'd see my naked body and it excited me to think of him ogling my ass and my pussy.

Then, in the same way that Ray and I used to sleep, when I felt his hand on the side of my naked hip or his hand cupping my breast through my nightgown, even though he may have been dreaming about some young woman, I pretended he was dreaming about me. Sleeping like that, spooning in bed together, he made me feel that I was his woman and he was my man. I liked it, an understatement, when he touched me like that, even if he may have been dreaming about someone else.

It was innocent on his part, no doubt, but for him to touch my skin like that or to cup my breast through my nightgown in that way, as if holding onto my breast comforted him, filled me with wicked thoughts and desires than it did with comfort. It took all the control I had not to undo the buttons of my nightgown top and have his hand slip inside to cup my naked breast. I was tempted, but I didn't. I would have loved to feel his hand on my bare tit, a grown son touching his mother was so taboo and I was so afraid. Fearing I'd prematurely ruin our sleeping arrangement, I didn't want to push him over the incestuous edge, before he was ready, that is, if he'd ever be ready to fuck his Mama and have his Mama blow her son.

I didn't think he was touching me purposefully. No doubt, he was dreaming. I was just hoping he was touching me with as much lust for me, as I had for him. I pretended I was sleeping, while hoping he'd finger my nipple or touch me where I yearned to be touched between my legs. I was always so very wet when he spooned me with his hard, pulsating cock pushing up against my ass. Every night, I was so wet and so ready to be taken. I wanted him to fuck me and fuck me long and hard.

Having him touch me in the way that he was innocently touching me now drove me wild with desire for him. It sure felt good for him to touch me like that, feeling his skin on my skin, whether he was dreaming or not. Maybe it was my hormones or because I was so sad grieving over the loss of my husband, or maybe I was just lusting over my son, but I wanted more. I wanted him.

When we turned during the night and I spooned him, I rested my fingertips on his cock and, immediately, he got an erection. Then, the throbbing started and I could feel the head of his prick pulsating against my fingertips. I so wanted to reach inside his underwear, pull out his cock, and close my hand around it, while stroking him. Only, I didn't dare. It was enough that my fingertips were in contact with his cock. He was so big. He was so hard. Drunk anyway, I thought about feeling him through his underwear, while making believe I was dreaming, but I didn't. I couldn't.

"Ray, I just love your big cock," I wanted to say, while pretending that I was drunk and dreaming, but I was afraid he'd see through that.

I was crazy with incestuous desire for him. While spooning him with my fingertips in contact with his cock, I imagined his hand touching me between my legs, where no man has touched me in so long. I imagined him fingering my clit, before exploring me deeper and using his fingers, as if they were his cock. I imagined him forcing himself on me. I imagined him on top of me and holding me down by my shoulders and making me do what no mother should do to her son. I imagined him kissing my neck, before kissing my lips, and forcing my hand to feel his hard cock and to feel the passion he had for me.

"No, Jim. Stop! This is wrong. Please, don't. Get off of me."

It was more exciting for me to imagine him making me do dirty things to his naked body, a mother forced to satisfy her son, instead of a mother taking advantage of her son. Certainly, I'd feel better, less wicked, if it was his idea and not mine to fuck me and to force me to blow him. I'd feel better if, while experiencing him sexually, I could still preserve my motherly image and be able to scold him about what had happened later.

"What happened last night, Jim, must never happen again. It will be our little secret," and just as I thought he understood, I imagine he'd pushed me back on the bed, rip off my clothes, and fucked me with all the passion that a son has for his mother.

I imagined the both of us in bed together, while comforting one another without our clothes getting in the way. Some may think our sleeping arrangement was inappropriate but, in the beginning, it wasn't as sexual as it was for me now. It was just two people in pain grieving the loss of a loved one. It was just a mother sleeping with and comforting her son. Really, it was all so very innocent, surely it was, that is, admittedly so, it was probably more innocent for him than it was for me. I was the insane, incestuous cougar, who hungered for my son's cock.

Now, that he's in bed with me every night, I'd fuck him, I would if I could, but how? I'm so afraid to ruin things by coming on to him. He'd think me a monster, if I revealed how much I wanted him and needed to feel him inside of me. He's all I have and I don't want to ruin the love that we have for one another. I'm so afraid that he'll sleep in the other room or leave my house and me alone altogether.

The next morning was Christmas and horny from having him touch me in the way he did with his hand resting on my naked hip or his hand cupping my breast through my nightgown, while sleeping, I was already sexually aroused, an understatement. Preoccupied with the imagined thought of him naked and in bed with me, I was preoccupied with sexy thoughts and incestuous sex. I wanted to tease him. I wanted to make him want me, as much as I wanted him. I was so hungry for his cock that I wanted to see how far I could go to get what I wanted and so needed.

Because it was Christmas, even though it was morning, we lit the tree and I put on some Christmas music. Ray bought me an ornament every year and I continued the tradition with Jim, buying him an ornament every year. We cut a beautiful tree from the woods behind our house and the smell of pine filled the whole room. After the coffee I made finished brewing, we took our cups in the living room to open our Christmas gifts.

Last night, after we had a few Christmas Eve celebratory drinks, I purposely hung the mistletoe over the arch going into the kitchen and every time we passed by it, he'd have to kiss me. First it was a little peck he gave me and then it was a full kiss on the lips, but without tongues. I was hoping he'd slip me his tongue but he didn't, just as I was hoping, while hugging me, he'd reach down and cup my ass and pull me into him. I swear, I would have fucked him right there on the living room carpet, I was so hot and horny for him.

To be honest, I found it a little peculiar that Jim didn't have a girlfriend. A good looking man like him could have his pick of women. I knew in the way he looked at me and by all the erections he got, hopefully over me, that he wasn't gay. I couldn't help but wonder if the reason why he didn't have a girlfriend was because he was in love with his Mama and was because he wanted me. A delicious thought to have, I knew it was just an incestuous fantasy. Still having that thought set the stage for the horny mood that I was feeling, after having Jim spoon me all night.

I sat across from him, with him sitting higher up in his Dad's favorite chair, as if it was his throne and he was the newly crowned man of the house. He claimed his Dad's chair as his trophy, just as I was hoping he'd claim me, too. With me sitting down low on the couch, while opening my presents from him, with my knees opened just enough to arouse his curiosity but not his suspicion, I made sure I gave him a continual view of my panties.

Never having flashed any man before, I was nervous. The thought that he could see my panties and knowing that he was looking between my legs, made me wet with desire for him and made me imagine him taking me and having his forced, wicked way with me. With my legs spread and my feet over his shoulders and resting on his back, the thought of him licking and fingering my pussy made me so horny. Whenever I leaned forward, I knew he could see down my open blouse, too. I knew he could see my bra and my cleavage and I could feel my nipples hardening with the imagined thought of him sucking them, pulling them, and twisting them.

Even though I thought about it, even though I wanted to, I didn't have the guts to flash him my naked pussy. Besides, I couldn't flash him my pussy, unless I was in my nightgown and, now that I think about it, I should have stayed in my nightgown. I could have flashed him my tits, too. Had I given it more thought, I would have stayed in my nightgown and flashed him my pussy and my tits, but it was Christmas and I wanted to dress for the holiday.

Now that I was dressed in my skirt and top, it would have been out of character for me to walk around the house without wearing panties. He'd think me a slut. He'd know I was flashing him on purpose. Still, it was hotly erotic to flash him my panties. I didn't have to look to see him staring at my panties, I knew he was looking. I could feel him staring between my legs, especially whenever I turned away to lean over and reach for a gift for him to open. Besides, he had an erection.

Whenever I turned, I twisted at the waist and opened my legs a little wider, especially when I leaned to retrieve a gift from under the tree. I knew he was getting quite an eyeful of my panty clad pussy. Teasing him by flashing him, I was hoping that I was arousing him by having him see my panties, as much as I was aroused by flashing him my panties. No doubt, by the evidence of his obvious erection, I was arousing him, too. My first time doing something like this, I was feeling so wicked and definitely feeling that I was crossing the line of trust by doing something so wrong. I was abusing my authority, especially with him being my son, albeit stepson, but I didn't care.

Once his Dad died, Jimmy walked around the house in his boxer shorts, something he never did before. If Ray were still alive, he'd never allow his son to disrespect me by walking around the house in his underwear. Only, Ray was dead and Jim walking around in his underwear was more erotic for me than it was disrespectful. Seeing him in his underwear made me want to walk around in my panty and bra, but I didn't. I couldn't.

I couldn't help but notice that he had an erection. Morning wood, his Dad used to call it. After he opened all his gifts he stood and, still with an erection, with his cock nearly sticking straight out, parallel to my mouth, he made me uncomfortably horny. I was hoping his cock would just bounce out of his pee hole and hit me in my lip. God, if he bounced his cock off my mouth, I'd open my mouth and take him inside. At that point, I was so hot for him that I'd suck him dry, I would.

The sight of his raging erection made me terribly horny and I wanted to rub myself to an orgasm. Even better, I just wanted to reach out and grab his big prick. I so wanted to feel his stiff, hard dick in my hot, little hand. I couldn't help but imagine taking his big cock inside my mouth and blowing him, sucking my own son, and making my big boy shoot the lust I know he had for his mother in my hungry mouth, before swallowing it all. Mesmerized by the motion of his cock, bouncing up and down and swaying side to side, as he walked closer towards me, he leaned down and gave me a light kiss on the lips, before giving me a big, bear hug.

"Thanks for all the gifts, Mom."

As he pulled away, stood, and turned, the fly of his boxer shorts opened. I saw his pubic hair and the side of his stiff prick. I so wanted to reach my hand inside and cup his balls, before pulling out his cock and stroking him.

"Merry Christmas, son," I said. "Now for your real Christmas gift," I so wanted to say. I imagined myself falling to my knees in between his legs and blowing him. "Merry Christmas, son. Relax, while Mommy sucks your big cock."

The partial sight of his big prick made me not only miss my husband but also made me hunger for his son. After seeing his partial prick, after figuring and hoping he had an erection from seeing my panties, if nothing else, I decided to flash him more. If nothing else was to happen, I could masturbate over the show that I gave him now, later.

He had bought me a blouse and a short skirt for Christmas. The skirt was much shorter than I'd wear but, since it was a gift, I figured I'd wear what he picked out for the day, especially since I knew with a skirt this short that I'd be flashing him my panties with every movement. Even though I had taken a shower the night before, I needed another shower this morning to cool off. The shower was my excuse to change my soaked panties and my way to flash my son my naked body.

It was a small house and we only had the one bathroom and while I was showering, he came in to pee, something he usually does. It was no big deal, as I was modestly hidden behind the shower curtain. Since I figured he'd be in to pee, I purposely left the shower curtain open enough so that, when he stood by the mirror to wash his hands, he'd have a clear view of me, so long as the mirror wasn't too fogged. So hungry for my stepson's cock, so wicked with incestuous thoughts to flash him, so that I could masturbate over all the I imagined he saw of me, when I heard him peeing, it took all the control I had not to peek at his pecker.

"Since it's Christmas, Jim, as a special treat for you, I'm making you your favorite meal," I said lathering up my hair and putting my head down, while pretending that I didn't know he could see me and was standing there staring. I didn't have to look to know he was ogling my naked body. I could feel his lust.

"Thanks, Mom, but you don't have to go through all that trouble."

"I want to, Jimmy."

"I can't wait. I'm hungry already," he said taking his sweet time washing his hands, as if he was a surgeon getting ready for surgery.

Already practicing before, I knew, when he stood at the sink, he could see me in the mirror. I knew he was staring at my nakedness and knowing that he was staring at my naked body made me feel so wicked and bold. Crazy with incestuous lust for him, this was my time to give him a real show. It made me so aroused to know that he was staring at my tits and trimmed pussy, that I wanted to pull the curtain open and stand there for his prolonged inspection.

"Oh, sorry, Jimmy," I imagined saying. "I didn't know you were still here. Please don't look at my tits and pussy. Can you be a dear and hand me a facecloth, I mean a towel?"

Only, I didn't have the courage. Yet, knowing he was still at the sink and watching me in the mirror, instead, pretending to wash my feet, I turned and bent at the waist to give him a better look at my ass and a peek at my pussy lips.

Then, when he left the bathroom, I masturbated over flashing him. Never have I masturbated as much, as I have since Ray died. I put on the skirt that he bought me and came downstairs with my blouse wide open, while buttoning it. I saw his eyes widen by the sight of my sheer bra and cleavage. I'm a full C cup and, already still excited after having masturbated over the show I gave him in the shower, I knew my nipples were making an impression in my bra and even in my blouse, once buttoned. Still with an erection, Jim was still in his boxer shorts.