Mother and Son, Ghosts of Christmas

So very sexually aroused now, she felt her nipples pushing against her bathrobe. While kissing her, she'd love nothing better than to have her son finger her nipples before breaking off his kiss to suck her nipples. Whether she was sleeping or insane while imagining this conversation, she was enjoying this inappropriate discussion with her son's ghost. Talking to him and seeing him as if he was alive was the best Christmas gift she could have.

Nonetheless, whether he was still alive or still dead, she'd fall to her knees and suck him, if only she could. She'd finally finish what she had started when she was blowing him in her car. If he could ejaculate cum as a dead man, she'd allow him to cum in her mouth and she'd swallow him. Only, as if he was a zombie, she wondered what dead cum tasted like compared to live cum. No matter the taste, he was her son and she'd still blow him.

"Well, tell me then. Don't be shy," she said with a sexy laugh as if she was suddenly transformed into a much younger version of Jessica Lange in American Horror Story. "What do you think of your old, mother's body?"

Putting a hand to her hip, she posed for her son. Shamelessly turning one way before turning the other way, she looked at him as if she was naked instead of in her bathrobe. She was so wicked to ask her son what he thought of her naked body but what did it matter now with him dead? Nonetheless, what did it matter? Nonetheless, she was still curious enough about what he thought of her naked MILF of a body to solicit his opinion.

"You're still very sexy. I've always been sexually attracted to you, Christine," he confessed something that she'd never tire of hearing.

If only he knew that she was sexually attracted to him too when she was alive, she wondered what he'd say. Maybe with him dead, he knows that already. Maybe with him dead he knows all of her dirty, sexy secrets. Only, now in hindsight, she realized that of course he knew she was sexually attracted to him. How could he not know that she wanted him sexually? Something she'd never do if she wasn't sexually attracted to her son, she was giving him a blowjob just before he died. Stroking him faster while sucking him deeper, she was trying to get him to cum in her mouth.

What mother who wasn't sexually attracted to her son would suck her own son? Yet, what mother, even one who was sexually attracted to her son, would suck her own son? What son, who wasn't sexually attracted to his mother, would allow his mother to suck him? Yet, what son, even one who was sexually attracted to his mother, would allow his mother to suck him? Just as it's one thing to think about having sex with your son, it's quite another thing to go through with the incestuous sex and do the dirty deed by blowing him. Just as it's one thing to think about having sex with your mother, it's quite another thing to go through with the incestuous sex and allow your mother to blow you.

"You have? You've always been sexually attracted to me?"

Prying him for sexy information, if only for fodder for her to masturbate herself later while, hopefully, with him watching, she played her innocent mother card. Just as he knew that she was and still is sexually attracted to him, now she knew that he was still sexually attracted to her too. Yet, always feeling guilty about standing in her bedroom door naked and feeling like a wicked whore to suck her own son later than night, after talking to him, she felt better and didn't feel as guilty about being responsible for his death.

With him always trying to peep on her and always staring at what he could see of her, she was always so tempted to show him what he was looking to see. She was glad that finally she did. She was always so tempted to give him a real show, a striptease show but, stopping her dead in her tracks with her unable to cross the incestuous line, the fact that she was his mother always ruined her fun. Fearing that he'd move away, it took her horniness for her to leave her bedroom door open while walking around her room naked and in plain view. It took her to be drunk that faithful night to unzip him, pull out his cock, and suck while stroking him.

"Yes. I've always been sexually attracted to you," he said pausing before speaking as if he was thinking better of what he was about to say.

The thought that her son had always been sexually attracted to her made her as sexually excited as it made her sad. She wasted so much time. They could have been having sex instead of teasing one another while wondering about one another. More than just a great mother and son relationship, they could have had a mother and son incestuous, sexual relationship.

"Tell me, Daniel," she said.

She looked at him with love in the way he was looking at her with lust.

"Tell you what Christine?"

She just wanted to walk up to him and kiss him, French kiss him.

"Did you masturbate over the thoughts of watching me undress and seeing me naked? I guess what I'm asking is, being that you're dead, can you still masturbate?"

She imagined him standing over the sink, the toilet, in the shower, and/or resting in his bed while stroking his prick as he thought about her naked.

"Whether dead or alive, I couldn't possibly count how many times I've masturbated over the thoughts of seeing you in your bra, your panty, seeing you topless, or naked," he said.

Suddenly, in the way she's masturbated herself and has had so many orgasms while imagining having sex with her son, she imagined her son cumming while thinking of her in her bra, her panty, topless, and/or naked. That one confession made her want to strip off her bathrobe and run to him naked.

"Now you don't have to imagine me naked. You can see me naked all the time and any time you'd like to see me naked."

In the way that he was leering at her, she knew that he could see her naked any time he wanted to see her naked.

"Yes now I can," he said.

Wanting to entice him to get more sexual information from him, she continued teasing him.

"I'm a little surprised that you've masturbated over me? I knew you masturbated. I could hear you in your room sometimes. Only, I never thought you'd be masturbating over me," she said acting like the sexually and incestuously innocent mother than she wasn't. "I always figured you'd be masturbating over some young woman your age or over a Hollywood celebrity."

Turning away from him to hide her face from him, she was more than flattered that he masturbated over the thoughts of her naked body in the way she masturbated herself over his naked body. It was sexually exciting for her to know that her son no doubt masturbated over her while thinking of having sex with her in the way she masturbated over him while thinking of having sex with him. Now totally sexually aroused, she was more than sexually excited. She wanted him now in the way she never wanted him.

Only, she couldn't have him. He was dead. Yet, having already hugged him, if she could hug him and he could hug her, as sick as it sounded, maybe she could have sex with her son's spirit too. He's already confessed that, even though he's dead, he still masturbates over the thoughts of her.

"No woman holds a candle to you, Christine. I've masturbated over the sexual thoughts of you many times," he confessed.

She looked at him without speaking as if pondering the appropriateness of what she was about to say next.

"I'm just curious," she said pausing while wanting to continue the conversation.

With it having been a year since she's had such sexually incestuous and inappropriate thoughts about her son, it was then that she imagined having sex with her son again now in the way she imagined having sex with him so very many times before.

"Tell me. What are you curious about Christine?"

If only he knew what she was really curious about, wouldn't he be shocked. No doubt, he'd think of her as a drunken, incestuous whore instead of thinking of her as his kind, loving mother. Yet, if he didn't think of her as an incestuous whore when she was sucking him in the front seat of her car, then he'd never think of her as an incestuous whore. Instead, he'd always think of her as his MILF of a mother, a mother he'd like to fuck. Yet with him dead, maybe he already knows all of her thoughts.

"Did you ever masturbate while thinking of having sex with me?"

Whether using her finger, her vibrator, her dildo, and/or her water massager, she recalled all the times she masturbated herself while thinking of having sex with her son. If only he knew how much she wanted him, she wondered what he'd say. If only he knew how many times she masturbated over the thoughts of having sex with him, surely, he'd think her sexually deranged.

"Oh, my God. Yes," he said. "Lots of times. Actually, every time I masturbated, after I'd think about your naked body, I'd think about us having incestuous sex."

Realizing that either she was dreaming or having a conversation with herself, if only he were still alive, she'd strip off her bathrobe and allow him to take here right now and right here on the living room carpet. She so wanted to touch herself. She so wanted to masturbate herself right in front of her son. Only she wasn't dreaming. He was right there in front of her. Just as she touched and hugged him, he touched and hugged her.

"And what did you imagine you'd do while having sex with my naked body?"

Just as she knew what she'd do to his naked body, she had a good idea of what he'd do to her naked body but she just wanted to hear him say it. She just wanted him to say all of the dirty, nasty words that she's been longing to hear her son say. She needed him to tell her what he'd do to her, if he could physically have sex with her, so that she could masturbate over the thoughts of him doing everything he said he would.

"Everything," he said.

Everything? She quivered with the thought of him doing everything to her but that's a cop out. Everything is not specific enough. She needed him to define everything. She needed to know exactly what he'd do when doing everything to her. She needed him to say all that he'd do to her naked body. She needed more details so that when she awakened from this dream, she could masturbate herself.

"Everything?"

She wanted him to confess all of the dirty details. In the way that she was willing to confess all of her sexual thoughts to him, she needed him to confess all of his sexual thoughts to her. Her idea of everything, she imagined him kissing her, feeling her, licking her, and fucking her. Then, after he did everything to her, she'd do everything to him. She'd kiss him, feel him, suck him, and fuck him.

"Yes, everything," he said.

Even though he was dead, she suspected that he was still shy in telling her all that he thought about doing to her while masturbating himself. Maybe he thought that she'd think him twistedly perverted for wanting to have sex with his mother but she wouldn't, especially now that he's dead. If anyone was twistedly perverted, she was the sexually deranged one for giving him a naked show of her body by not closing her bedroom door when she was dressing. She was the sexually wicked one for giving her son a drunken blowjob in her car while he was driving.

She still couldn't believe she did that, sucked his cock while he was driving? Why did she do that? If only she had waited until they arrived home to act out her sexual lust for her son, he'd be alive today. Now talking to him in a dreamlike state was all she had.

"Can you elaborate more on everything?" She laughed. "Did you kiss me?"

She swooned at the imagined thought of her son kissing her now. She'd love nothing more than to feel her son's tongue probing her mouth. If only he was still alive, she'd allow him to do everything and anything he wanted to her naked body. Gladly and willingly, she'd even give him anal sex, if that's what he so desired. The imagined thought of him pounding her ass while holding on to her big tits made me wild with sexual desire for him.

"Did I kiss you?" He looked at her as if she was nuts. "Constantly? I never stopped kissing you in my sexual fantasies while masturbating myself."

She so wanted to walk to him and stick her tongue in his mouth. Only, no matter if he was dead or alive and no matter if she was awake, insane, or dreaming, it was one thing to think it but quite another thing to actually do it. For her to blow her son, she was drunk, so drunk that she couldn't drive. Yet, if this is a dream and he's still dead, then she's free to do anything and everything that comes to her mind while sleeping, even to ask him detailed questions of what he thought about when masturbating himself.

"Did you French kiss me?"

She imagined him parting her lips and sticking his tongue in her mouth while feeling her ass. If only he'd French kiss her now, she'd return his kiss. She'd love nothing more than to make out with her dead son on Christmas day. Only, she wondered if her dead son could kiss her in the way that he hugged her. When hugging her, he certainly felt alive enough to her then. Maybe this wasn't a dream. Maybe he was haunting her. Maybe this wasn't even her son but some ghost made to look like her son. Maybe she's totally lost her mind.

"Of course," he said.

She imagined him touching her and feeling her while kissing her.

"When you were French kissing me, were you touching me too, I mean sexually?"

She imagined him feeling her breasts and her ass through her clothes while French kissing her.

"I couldn't keep my hands off of you, Christine," he said.

She quivered with the thought of her son French kissing her while feeling her ass and her breasts through her clothes. Giving him free access to her big breasts, she imagined her one arm wrapped around his neck and her other arm wrapped around his back while she kissed and kissed him as he touched and felt her where no son should ever touch and feel his mother.

"Did you imagine me kissing you while touching you too?"

She imagined reaching down and behind him to squeeze his beautiful ass while French kissing him. She swooned at the thought of being in his arms as if she was his lover instead of his mother. She imagined him reaching around her to lift her short skirt and to feel and squeeze her ass through her panty while feeling and fondling her breasts through her blouse and bra with his other hand.

"Of course," he said. "In the way that I always imagined feeling and groping your round, firm ass and your breasts through your clothes while kissing you, I imagined you feeling and groping my ass while kissing me too."

What she never should have done in the car while he was driving, she imagined feeling his cock through his pants while kissing him now. If only they had stopped by the side of the road, he'd be alive today. If only she had controlled her incestuous, sexual urges until she got home, he wouldn't have died that night. With guilt and remorse plaguing her for a year, it was comforting to know that he not only forgives her but also accepts the responsibility that the accident was as much his fault as it was her fault too.

"In the way that you touched and felt me," she said pausing. "Did you imagine me feeling your cock through your pants while I kissed you?"

She looked at him while imagining feeling his emerging erection through his pants now in the way she did that fateful night. He was so big. He was so hard. He was so sexually excited, as sexually excited as she was sexually excited.

"Yes, all the time," he said.

She'd do anything to not only see her son's cock now but also to stroke her son's prick. Wishing she could feel her son's prick in her mouth again, she'd do anything if only she could finish blowing him, especially if that would make him happy. Even though he admitted that it was his fault too, she still felt so guilty for causing the accident that resulted in his death.

"Oh, my," she said. She paused while thinking about what to ask him next. "Being that you masturbated over the thoughts of having sex with me, did you imagine me masturbating you too? Did you imagine what it would feel like to have my hand around your erect penis while I stroked you?"

He looked at her and smiled.

"Many, many times Christine, I imagined you stroking me while I masturbated myself."

She turned red with what she was about to ask her son next.

"You don't have to answer my question if it's as embarrassing to you as it is to me but did you imagine me sucking you?"

With her not drunk now in the way that she was drunk that night, her questions embarrassed her in the way that she imagined her questions embarrassed her son. Yet, as if she was wanting to suck him now, she stroked her hair back before touching her lips with her fingers. Only, with him dead, what could she possibly ask him that would embarrass him.

"You're getting me sexually aroused Christine but yes, I imagined you blowing me," he said.

She tightened her bathrobe ties and haughtily threw back her head while tossing back her dark brown hair. With her brown eyes flashing her sexual arousal, she asked her son her next question.

"And did you cum?"

She imagined sucking her son while stroking her son. She imagined her son cumming in her mouth and her swallowing all that her son had to give. Then, she imagined sucking him dry while stroking him before licking him clean.

"I did," he said.

As if she was Lily Tomlin when she played the telephone operator on Rowan and Martin's Laugh-In, instead of his mother, she tucked her index finger inside of her bathrobe and inside of her cleavage. As if her cleavage was her pussy slit and she was about to masturbate herself, she looked at him with incestuous lust.

"It's not a question that a mother should ask her son but did you to cum in my mouth?"

She imagined sucking her son until he ejaculated in her mouth.

"I did," he said. "I ejaculated my cum in your mouth."

As if she could feel her son's cock in her mouth and as if she could taste her son's cum, she wished she could blow her son now. If only this wasn't a dream and if only her son was still alive, she'd go to his room naked and give her 22-year-old son the best sex he's ever had in his short life.

"Oh, God," she said fanning herself with her hand. "And in your sexual fantasy, I'm curious to know," she said.

Definitely, without a doubt, if her son ejaculated in her mouth, she'd swallow.

"What are you curious to know Christine?"

As if it was happening now, she couldn't help herself from imagining not only stroking her son but also sucking her son while he ejaculated in her mouth and she swallowed.

"Did I swallow your cum?"

To make her fantasy come true, she wanted to blow her son now. She wanted her son to cum in her mouth and she wanted to swallow her son.

"You did. You swallowed every last drop of my cum before licking my cock clean while still sucking me and stroking me," he said.

She was dizzy with sexual delight with the thoughts of sucking her son.

"From your description, seemingly, I enjoyed blowing you, my own son," she said making more of a statement than asking him a question.

She was as disturbed that she'd have such incestuous thoughts for her son as she was sexually excited.

"Seemingly you did Christine," he said with a dirty laugh. "Not only in my sexual fantasy but that night, in real life, you loved sucking my cock."

Now that she was imagining blowing her son, she imagined making love to her son.

"What about sexual intercourse?"

She wondered if he imagined them making love in the way that she's always imagined them making love. If only he was really here now standing in front of her, she'd make love to him before fucking him, really fucking him hard.

"What about sexual intercourse?"

No doubt about it, if she could, she'd have sexual intercourse with her son.