I Love You and Want You, Mom

Then, when he married Tamara, my physical clone, it was then that I knew my son still, sexually wanted me. As if we were mother and daughter instead of mother-in-law and daughter-in-law, we looked too much alike for me not to wonder if my son had deliberately looked for his surrogate mother when seeking a wife. I couldn't help but think that he was more sexually attracted to me than he was to his own wife. Perhaps, just a coincidence that he found a woman who looked so much like me but I couldn't help but take notice.

# # #

Long before he met Tamara, Jason always spied on me. As if trying to see me without my clothes, he'd barge in my bedroom without knocking when I dressed, undressed, or barge in the bathroom when I showered or bathe. Admittedly, as much fun for me as it was for him, thinking nothing of it until now, he had seen me in my bra and panties, topless, and naked more than once. Admittedly as horny as I was sexually frustrated, getting in on the flashing fun, sometimes I deliberately, sexually teased my son by wearing a sexy nightgown in front of him without having the modesty to wear a robe.

Sometimes, knowing he'd barge in my bedroom, I'd deliberately allow him to catch me in my bra and panties, topless, and even naked. With us only having the one bathroom, as his excuse to enter my bathroom while I was showering or bathing, sometimes, I'd allow him to pee while I was in the bathtub. Not ashamed and embarrassed then, as I am now, admittedly, I'd stare at my son's cock in the way that he stared at my naked tits. For sure, I was as sexually wicked in my sexual desire as my son was sexually perverted in his incestuous lust.

"Just don't flush the toilet, Jason," I said poking my head out of the shower door to get a better look at his cock and for him to get a better view of my naked body.

I wondered if he returned my flashing favor with his flashing favor. With all the times I caught him masturbating with his eyes closed while wearing his headphones was as if he wanted me to catch him masturbating. With him calling my name while masturbating himself, thinking that he was calling me, I opened his bedroom door. Instead of needing me, as if he deliberately flashed me his prick, he was masturbating.

As if he wanted me to hear him, more than once I heard him call my name while he masturbated. Obviously, he was imagining me naked and having sex with me while stroking his erect prick. More than once, I was tempted to surprise him and barge in his bedroom in the way that he routinely barged in my bedroom. More than once, I opened his bedroom door to watch him stroke his erect prick.

With me so horny and so very sexually frustrated, I'm not embarrassed to admit that I masturbated while imagining my son naked. I masturbated while imagining having sex with my son. Even though it was something that I'd never do, it aroused me sexually to imagine stroking my son's big prick while sucking my son's big prick. In the way that he, no doubt, imagined making love to me and fucking me, it made me sexually aroused to imagine making love to my son before fucking him.

In the way that he barged in on me more than once, wanting to watch him masturbate, I deliberately barged in on him. I not only wanted to see his erect, naked prick but also, I wanted watch him stroke his erect, naked prick. Hoping to catch him stroking himself faster and harder just before he ejaculated, I wanted to watch him cum. A beautiful thing for a mother to see, especially when she knows that her son is masturbating over her, more than once, I saw and watched him cum.

Oblivious to my presence, he'd wear his headphones while masturbating himself. With his eyes closed while stroking himself and calling my name, I'd quietly open his bedroom door to watch. He was masturbating over me, his mother. I couldn't believe my son was masturbating over me in the way that I had been masturbating over him. His cock was just as big and just as hard as his father's big, hard prick.

"Mama, I wish I could see you naked. I wish I could feel and suck your big tits," he'd say every time he masturbated. "I want to finger your pussy while licking your cunt. I want to make love to you. I want to fuck you. I love you Mama. I love you and I want you, Mama."

Able to control my incestuous, sexual urges, I was tempted to strip off my blouse and bra and show him my naked breasts. I was tempted to put his hands on my naked breasts and allow him to finger my nipples. I was tempted to climb in bed with him, wrap my fingers around his prick, and stroke him. I was tempted to help masturbate my son. I was tempted to put my mouth on his cock before sitting on him and inserting his stiff prick in my warm and already wet pussy.

"Mama, I need to make love to you. I need to fuck you," he said again while stroking himself faster and harder. "I need you to suck my cock. I want to cum in your mouth, Mama, and all over your beautiful face," he said as if a looping dialogue. "Fuck me, Mama. Fuck me. Suck me, Mama. Suck me."

He made me swoon by all that he said. He made me so hot. He made me so horny. He made me so wet. In the way that my son wanted to make love to me, I wanted to make love to him. In the way that my son wanted to fuck me, I wanted to fuck him. In the way that my son wanted me to blow him, I wanted to blow him. In the way that we both sexually wanted one another, living with him was so very, sexually frustrating.

# # #

Even though I hadn't yet done anything sexually inappropriate with my son, other than flashing him, it was forbidden enough that I was thinking of doing something sexually inappropriate with my son. Especially when masturbating myself over imagining having sex with him were my horniest times. Yet, what should have made my skin crawl and make my stomach turn, erected my nipples, moistened my cunt, and made me sexually aroused instead. As much as I wanted to fuck him, I wanted to suck him too.

Admittedly, I sexually wanted my son as much as he sexually wanted me. I was as horny and as sexually attracted to him as he was horny and sexually attracted to me. Inevitable for it to happen, it was only a matter of time before we'd have forbidden sex. It was only a matter of time before Jason would fuck his mother and I'd suck my son. Torn between the two, as much as I sometimes hoped having sex with my son would never happen, sometimes, I couldn't wait to have sex with my son.

Instead of submitting to him, instead of having sex with him and getting it over with, I started deliberately flashing my son. A mother flashing her son her underwear and/or her topless and naked body, I felt like such an incestuous whore, but I liked the feeling. The sexual teasing and incestuous foreplay are always much more sexually satisfying than the actual sex. While pretending my flashes were accidental and unintentional, and while wishing he'd touch me, feel me, and fondle me, I enjoyed showing him as much as he enjoyed seeing.

Flashing him not only made me sexually aroused but also gave me something to masturbate over later. Clearly, flashing him not only made him sexually excited but also gave him something to masturbate over later too. Only, a dangerous and sexually forbidden game to play when toying with the incestuous line, flashing him made me want to sexually do more. In the way that he stared at me, obviously him seeing what he shouldn't see of his mother made him want to sexually do more too.

Making my flashing appear unintentional and/or accidental, I'd sit across from him while reading with my knees parted enough for him to see my panties. As much as my son loved my big tits, he loved my panties. Having found a pair of my panties beneath his pillow more than once, I knew he felt my panties and sniffed my panties while masturbating himself. I didn't have to be a detective to know that my son routinely went through my lingerie drawer and my laundry hamper. If he was going to masturbate over me, I wanted to give him something to see as fodder for his masturbation.

It was fun sexually teasing him by flashing him bits and pieces of my underwear clad or naked body. It was fun making him sexually excited by teasing him with down-blouse views of my cleavage and bra, down-nightgown views of my naked breasts, up-skirt peeks of my panties, and up-nightgown peeks of my naked pussy. It was fun seeing his erect prick tenting his pajama bottoms or bulging out his jeans. It was sexually gratifying to know that my son sexually wanted me as much as I sexually wanted him.

While wearing a low-cut blouse, one that showed the tops of my abundant breasts, my long line of cleavage, and my sexy, low-cut bra, I leaned over him while serving him food. Leaning longer and lower than needed, I made sure I gave him a good, long, down-blouse peek of my cleavage and bra. When I wasn't flashing him up-skirt peeks of my panties, I was showing him down-blouse views of my cleavage and bra. Encouraging me to show him even more, taking two to play, whatever and whenever I was showing, he was looking.

Then, taking my exhibitionism a step further, as soon as he turned 18-years-old, throwing all feigned modesty and motherly morality aside, I no longer wore a bathrobe over my nightgown. In the way that I parted my knees to flash him my panties when wearing a short skirt, I parted my knees to flash him my naked pussy when wearing my short nightgown. In the way that I leaned over him to flash him my cleavage and bra when wearing a low-cut blouse, I flashed him my naked tits and erect nipples when wearing a low-cut nightgown. If he wasn't sexually excited enough before, he was even more sexually excited now that I was showing him all that he wanted and needed to see.

Having become expert in the art of flashing, my son had no idea that I was deliberately flashing him. He had no idea that I was deliberately, sexually teasing him. He had no idea that I was incestuously enticing him. He had no idea that I sexually wanted him as much as he sexually wanted me. Yet, having sex with my son was illicitly forbidden. A line that I couldn't yet cross, it was one thing to show my son my naked ass, tits, and pussy but it was another thing to stroke his cock, suck his cock, and fuck his cock.

# # #

Accustomed to him barging in my bedroom when I was dressing or undressing, once he turned 18-years-old, a man now, I deliberately gave him all that he hoped and wanted to see of me. While making my flashing appear accidental while remaining undressed longer, knowing that he would, I'd wait for him to barge open my bedroom door without knocking while dressed in my bra and panties, topless, and even naked. I wanted to show him as much of my sexy and shapely, naked body as he wanted to see of my sexy and shapely, naked body. As much as he needed to masturbate over me, I needed to masturbate over him.

As if he was a deer caught in headlights, mesmerized by all that he shouldn't see of me, he'd stand there staring at all that I was showing and all that he was seeing. Slow to cover up, I made sure he got a good, long look at my naked tits, my naked ass, and/or my naked pussy. Then, when I knew he'd be masturbating with his eyes closed and his headphones on, I'd quietly open his bedroom door to watch him cum.

"You need to knock first, Jason," I said without scolding him whenever he opened my door without knocking.

I didn't want him to knock. I wanted him to continue barging in my bedroom and/or bathroom. I wanted him to see me in my bra and panties, topless, and/or naked. I wanted to show him all of me. As much as I wanted to watch him stroke his big, naked prick, I wanted my son to see my naked ass, tits, and pussy.

Obviously hearing me turn off the water and pulling back the shower curtain, before I even had a chance to grab a towel, he had a knack for catching me just as I climbed out of the shower. There at the right place and at the right time, he had a knack of catching me naked. As I did when he barged in my bedroom, slow to react, giving him plenty to masturbate over later, I made sure that he had a good, long look of my naked tits, my naked ass, and my naked pussy.

"Jason, what did I tell you about knocking," I'd say putting my hands on my hips before grabbing for a towel? "Oh, my God. I'm so embarrassed," I'd say feigning my embarrassment. "I can't believe you saw me naked. Please advert your eyes. Please don't stare at my naked ass, my naked tits, and my naked pussy."

After a while, with him having seen me in my underwear, topless, and/or naked numerous times, not having a problem with it, I was numb to it. It was no big deal for me to flash him my naked tits, ass, and pussy as it was always a big deal for him to see my naked ass, tits, and pussy. With me making the first incestuous move by flashing him, I only wish he'd make the next incestuous move by touching me, feeling me, and fondling me.

After a while, if only for a few seconds, hoping to elicit more of an incestuous response from him, I walked around him in my bra and panties, topless, and even naked. I wouldn't stay like that for long but I remained like that long enough for him to see all that he wanted and needed to see of me to sexually tease him and for him to masturbate over me later. If only he'd make the next incestuous move, I'd make all the other incestuous move.

If only he'd take me in his arms and kiss me, French kiss me, while touching me, feeling me, and fondling me everywhere a son should never touch, feel, and fondle his mother, I'd touch, feel, and fondle him too. If only he'd suck my big tits, I'd suck his big cock. If only he'd masturbate me, I'd masturbate him. If only he'd fuck me, I'd fuck him.

# # #

A woman without a man, I was always so horny. Continually sexually frustrated, I had unfulfilled sexual needs and wanton desires. Still young, attractive, sexy, and sexual, I needed regular sex. I needed to get laid. I need to have multiple, sexual orgasms. I needed a cock to stroke, suck, and fuck on regular basis. Albeit illicitly forbidden, nonetheless, how convenient it would be for my son to willing give me all that I sexually wanted and incestuously needed?

In hindsight, I realized now that I wanted my adult son to see my naked body as much as he obviously wanted to see my naked body. In hindsight, with voyeurism and exhibitionism a two-person game that we needed to play, I realized now that I wanted to see his naked prick as much as he obviously wanted to show me his naked prick. As long as we didn't have sex, I didn't think there was anything wrong with exposing ourselves to one another and flashing one another.

Genetically similar, two peas in a pod as mother and son, I was as horny as my son. I was as responsible for crossing the incestuous line as my son was responsible for crossing the incest line. With us flashing one another, teasing one another, enticing one another, and sexually lusting over one another, I was as needy as my son was perverted. I masturbated over my son as much as he masturbated over me.

I was as sexually attracted to Jason as he was obviously sexually attracted to me. I wanted to have sex with him as much as he obviously wanted to have sex with me. Yet, in the way that he limited his incestuous behavior to flashing me his cock and masturbating over me later, I limited my incestuous behavior to flashing my son my underwear and naked body while masturbating over him later. Even though I would if I could, it was never my intention to have sex with him.

'Fuck me, Jason. Fuck me. Fuck Mama. Stick your big, hard cock in my warm, wet cunt and fuck me. Fuck me, Jason. Fuck me,' I thought while masturbating myself over the thoughts of having sex with my son.

With me flashing him my naked body, had he made a sexual move on me, with me horny enough and sexually frustrated enough to do so, I would have kissed him. I would have parted his lips with my tongue and made out with him. While French kissing him, I would have stroked him. From there, I would have sucked him. I would have made love to him before fucking him. Had he made the first incestuous move on me, taking the onus off me as a bad mother and an incestuous whore, I would have had forbidden sex with my son.

'A mother having sex with her son, what's wrong with me,' I thought while questioning my sanity? 'A son having sex with his mother, what's wrong with him to want to have sex with me?'

Remembering it all now, as if it happened yesterday, the first time Jason saw something of me that he shouldn't have seen, I was embarrassed. I was mortified that my son had seen me in my bra and panties, topless, and/or naked. With us not having any locks on the doors and with him always barging in my bedroom and bathroom without knocking, in the beginning, I felt violated. I felt ashamed. Knowing that he was deliberately trying to see what he should never see of me, I blamed myself for encouraging his sexual, incestuous perversion by flashing him.

Then, as I grew hornier and more sexually frustrated, inflamed by incestuous, sexual thoughts, the embarrassment that I felt before developed and manifested itself into a burning sexual arousal now. I suddenly had a sick, sexual attraction to my son. Now, hoping he'd appear and barge in my bedroom or bathroom without knocking to catch me without my clothes, I felt sexually aroused. As much as he wanted to see me naked, I wanted him to see me naked.

Remaining undressed longer, while knowing that he would, I waited for him to barge in my bedroom and bathroom. I wanted him to catch me in my bra and panties or topless. I wanted him to see me without my clothes. I couldn't wait to masturbate over all that he saw of me. Then, catching him masturbating over seeing me in all manner of undress, I couldn't wait to masturbate over all that I saw of him.

Then, when he married his wife, forsaking me for another woman, a woman who looked so very much like me, I felt rejected. I felt possessively jealous. I was as hurt as I was angry. With the knowledge that I was his mother and he was my son, after he was married, I remember trying to make a conscious effort to dismiss those forbidden, incestuous thoughts.

Even though our exhibitionism and voyeurism episodes were sexual, and even though we had incestuous sex, we both pretended that our mutual attraction wasn't sexual but something else. Even though we both wanted to have incestuous sex with one another and did have incestuous sex with one another once, we pretended that we didn't want to have incestuous sex. In denial over all that we had done to tease one another, entice one another, and sexually excite one another, we kidded ourselves that we were perversely perverted and emotionally disturbed.

'What mother has sex with her son,' I thought? 'What son has sex with his mother? Normally it's the son wanting to have sex with his mother and not a mother wanting to have sex with her son.'

Then, once he was married, making a concerted effort, I remember dismissing those forbidden, sexual, and incestuous thoughts with the knowledge that I was his mother, he was my son, and neither of us thought that our physical attraction was sexual. Only, years later, judging how sexually aroused I felt then, unable to kid myself and dismiss my incestuous desire for my son any longer now, my sexual attraction to him was obvious. Judging by his continual erections whenever he was around me, with him unable to hide his incestuous lust, his sexual excitement for me was obvious too.

Yet, maybe because he was no longer my constant companion, maybe because I'm just lonely and horny and need a man in my life but, whatever the reason, sometimes I still feel a twisted, sexual desire for my son. Now that we're no longer living together in the same apartment, and now that he's married with children, I felt a sense of relief that whatever may have sexually happened between us won't happen now. Still, sometimes when I'm horny, I miss him. I still want to flash him my naked tits, my naked ass, and my naked pussy. I still want to have sex with him.