Mother Initiates Son to Manhood Ch. 02

Paul receives the only thing he wants for his 18th birthday, to make out with his mother.

Now that he confessed that not only did he want to make out with his mother but also that he wanted to fuck her, he had everything laid out there on the table. With no more sexual secrets to confess and with his cards all played, he was vulnerably exposed. As if he was a man instead of her 18-year-old son, she was looking at him differently now, with more interest, sexual interest, he hoped.

Was she considering granting him his birthday wish by allowing him to make out with her? If he was reading her correctly, surprised that he did, seemingly he had gotten to her. Now instead of seeing her as his mother, he looked at her as if she was Ashley, his lover.

She had a look on her face that he had never seen before. With her mouth open a little, she stared back at him as if she was Bambi caught in oncoming car headlights. If he was to hazard a guess, he'd guess that she was beginning to become sexually aroused by the thought of him not only making out with her but also possibly making love to her. With him unable to think that far ahead and with him being more realistic in the return of his sexual desire, he'd be happy just to French kiss her while feeling her. Yet, she continued looking at him in the way that women looked at his friends in a bar before leaving with them.

"I already told you what I wanted for my birthday and I wasn't joking. I'd really like to make out with you," he said again with a nonchalant shrug while trying to act as if it was no big deal for his mother to kiss her son and her son to make out with his mother.

As if she was a robot and he had just short circuited her, she stared at him without saying anything. What seemed like uncomfortably long minutes of silence was only several sexually exciting seconds of them staring at one another. With him having the incestuous thoughts of finally making out with his mother while feeling her shapely body for his birthday, he wondered if she shared his thoughts. Then, when she finally spoke again, speaking to him as if he was a deranged lunatic in a mental hospital who seemingly wanted to be deemed normal, she was more careful with her words choice.

"When you say making out with me," she said pausing again. "Do you mean kissing me in the way that a man kisses a woman and not in the way that a mother would kiss her son? Do you mean French kissing me?"

As soon as she said French kissing her, he imagined burying his tongue in his mother's mouth while reaching around her to grab her nightshirt and panty clad ass, before reaching up to feel her nightshirt and bra clad breasts while fingering her erect nipples. While kissing and kissing her, he imagined reaching down in front of her, lifting tails of her nightshirt and, cupping her pussy through her panty, taking the temperature of her sexual arousal by feeling her between her legs. Imagining her lost in his kisses in the way that he'd be lost in her kisses, he imagined pushing her back on the couch, on the coffee table, or on the living room carpet and removing her panties to make love to her. He'd love nothing more than to mount his mother, hump his mother, and screw his mother. After always imagining her sucking him, he always imagined fucking his mother as the last thing he thought of when masturbating before cumming.

"Yes," he said.

With him imagining being lost in her kisses while touching her and feeling her everywhere that a son should never touch and feel his mother, bringing him back to reality, she suddenly burst his bubble with her negative and seemingly final words.

"Paul, I can't do that. I can't kiss you in the way that I kiss your father," she said looking at him as if she was already considering the possibility of French kissing him and making out with her son.

Even with her saying no, her eyes were saying yes and he so wanted to take her in his arms and kiss her, French kiss her while touching and feeling her everywhere. Even if he tried to force her, after already having had a sexual fantasy of touching her and feeling her while kissing her extinguished by her saying no, he couldn't conceal his disappointment. Nonetheless he persevered in asking her his question. With him not to be denied, with this his special day, this request to make out with his mother was his birthday wish after all.

"Why not? I don't understand," he said. "You asked me what I wanted to do for my birthday and making out with you is what I want to do."

Not even daring to ask her but imagining it nonetheless, as a consolation, he wondered if she'd masturbate him instead of kissing him. He suddenly imagined his mother's hand wrapped around his erect prick while she stroked him. He imagined cumming all over her hand and her wishing him a happy birthday.

"Happy Birthday Paul," he imagined her smiling at him while staring at his stiff prick as she wiped his cum from her hand with a tissue.

Some of the female friends with benefits that he had didn't think that there was anything wrong with masturbating a man they weren't dating him while he kissed her and felt her breasts, her ass, and fingered her pussy. Taking it one step further, if she agreed to masturbate him, maybe she'd suck him too. The female friends with benefits that he had didn't even consider giving a man a blowjob sex. Wishing his mother would have a different mindset when thinking about making out with him and possibly having sex with him, he wished his mother was his very special female friend with benefits.

Continuing his sexual fantasy, if she agreed to suck him, maybe she'd screw him too. Suddenly taken with his perverse, incestuous thoughts of having sex with his mother, if she wouldn't even kiss him, there'd be no way that she'd stroke him, suck him, and/or make love to him before fucking him. Her agreeing to make out with him, was the first step in a long process of sexually exciting things that they could do together whenever his father and sister weren't around. He'd like nothing more than to take their mother and son relationship to a more sexual level.

"Because that would be wrong Paul. That would be incestuous of me to kiss you in that sexual way," she said.

Unable to remove the thoughts of her closing her eyes to kiss him while surrendering him her tongue, he couldn't remove the thoughts from his mind of French kissing his mother. He couldn't remove the idea from his mind of feeling his mother's body while kissing his mother's lips. Something he's wanted to do with his mother for as long as he could remember, this was her chance to not only make his sexual fantasy come true but also to give her son his birthday wish.

Not ready to take no for an answer, it was now or never. Either his mother wanted him as much as he wanted her or she didn't. Either way, he needed to know if he could make her change her mind about making out with him.

* * * * *

"I want you to teach me," he said deciding to try a different and possibly a more realistic approach in the sexual seduction of his mother.

With her once a high school English Literature teacher before marrying his father, maybe he could reach her on her level with him needing to be educated in the ways of the world. In the ways of a man needing to know what it's like to be sexually intimate with a woman, maybe he could persuade her by her thinking of him as her student instead of her thinking of him as her son.

"Teach you?" She looked at him as if he had just unlocked the secret, sexy way to seduce his mother. "Teach you what?"

In the way she asked her question, he could tell that he had already piqued her curiosity. At that point, he imagined her as his teacher instead of his mother and himself as her pupil instead of her son. He imagined them naked while she gave him a graphically explicit, X-rated, sex education class. Maybe she could justify making out with him by teaching him about the birds and the bees. Maybe she could justify allowing him to feel her sexy body, if she thought that she was helping him by giving him a life lesson about what women want and what women need instead of seducing him.

"Too busy with my studies while trying to get that college scholarship," he said playing the poor me card by hitting on her inherent motherly sympathy. "I haven't been with a woman," he said lying to his mother with sad eyes and a pitiful expression. "I'm embarrassed to say that I'm a virgin," he said lying again. "Now that I received my scholarship and will start college in September, I don't know the first thing about women and about sex," he said.

Looking inspired and hopefully assuming the role in her responsibility to teach her son all about sex, she now looked at him as a sculptor would look at a block of granite, an artist would look at a blank canvas, or a writer would look at a new page. If not her sexual slave, he wished he could be her sexual model for her to create in him in whatever image she needed for her to have sex with him. Forget about having sex with her, hopefully she would at least agree to make out with him.

He wondered if his mother would be interested in creating him and molding him to her sexual liking. Just as he wouldn't mind posing naked for his mother while she dressed and/or undressed him, he wouldn't mind his mother teaching him how to finger and lick her pussy while she kissed him and kissed her. Only, with her having reservations in even French kissing him, he had serious doubts that any of that would happen until she surprised him with what she said next.

"Well, that's different," she said. "Perhaps I can explain some things to you about women that your father would be unable to explain," she said.

Opening the door a little by inviting him inside, it was up to him to stick his foot in the door so that she wouldn't slam it shut on him again.

"I'd like that mother," he said.

Baby steps. Obviously, for him to get her when he needed her to be, he needed to take baby steps with her. If it wasn't enough that she was his mother and that he was asking her to have an incestuous relationship by wanting her to make out with him on his birthday, he was asking her to have the modern, friends with benefits, sexuality of someone his age. He needed to keep in mind that she was from a different, more sexually innocent generation. He was forgetting that when she slept, she didn't even remove her bra and/or panty but covered herself with her nightshirt. Then, as if she was talking about her husband to one of her girlfriends instead of talking about his father to him, she further surprised him by taking him in her confidence.

"Like father like son," she said with a little laugh. "Seemingly, too busy working, your father doesn't know much about women either," she said with a laugh, this time a sad, little laugh. "With him working with all of those attractive stewardesses and with some female passengers thinking that a pilot is a real catch and some sort of sexual trophy, I'd think that he'd be more sexually experienced than he is but he's not," she said as if talking to herself while playing with her hair again. "Hard to believe in this day and age, but I don't think he's ever cheated on me," she said with a look of guilt on her face.

It was then he wondered if his mother had cheated on his father. Or was her look of guilt for what she was thinking or for what she was about to do with him? In not so many words, she just confessed that she was sexually frustrated and sexually unfulfilled. Taking up the line by reeling her in, he needed to be more explicit in his request. With her nipples still making their erect appearance through her bra and through her nightshirt, he needed to know if she was just as horny as she was sexually frustrated. He needed to know if she was ready to begin a more fulfilling sexual relationship with him.

"Only..." he said.

"Only, what?" She looked at him in the way he hoped she'd look at him.

With him baiting his hook, she looked at him with interest not as a mother would look at her son but as a woman would look at a man, her potential lover of a man.

"I was hoping for more than just an explanation mother," he said making solid eye contact with her so that he could watch her reaction to his sexual request.

Staring at her as if she was naked, he stared at the hard, erect impressions that her nipples made in her nightgown until she finally covered them by folding her arms across her breasts.

"More of an explanation? Paul, you're making me uncomfortable with not only your words but also with your leers," she said. "I feel as if you're undressing me with your eyes," she said.

Certainly, in the way he was wantonly looking at her, incestuously leering at her, and sexually lusting over her, he was, indeed, undressing her with his eyes. With her sitting on his face or with his cock buried in her mouth, if only she knew how uncomfortable he wanted to make her, he wondered what she'd say then. He wondered if she'd slap his face or welcome his sexual advances if he dared to tell her what he was thinking and what he was imagining them doing sexually. He wondered what she'd do if only she knew what he was thinking. Would she say yes or no to his sexual requests? There was only one way to find out her answer to his unasked questions.

"You said that because today is my birthday that I could do anything that I wanted on my birthday," he said.

He imagined her agreeing to him stripping off her nightshirt and having her parade around him in her lacy bra and panties while wishing him a Happy Birthday. He imagined her taking him into her bedroom to teach him all about sex by not telling him about sex but showing him about sex. He imagined his mother seducing him as much as he wanted to seduce her. He imagined her allowing him to lick her pussy before she sucked his cock. He imagined screwing his mother before fucking his mother. He imagined her making her his sexual bitch in the way that he wanted to make her his sexual whore.

"Within reason Paul," she said with another nervous laugh.

Now that he's seen the big impressions that her nipples made through her bra and nightshirt, he wondered what she looked like topless. Trying to imagine her without her nightshirt, her bra, and her panty, he wondered what his mother looked like naked. He wondered what she felt like in his arms while he kissed her, touched her, and felt her while she only wore her bra and panties. He wondered what she'd feel like in his arms when wearing only her bra and panty before he wondered what she'd feel like in his arms if she was naked. He wondered if she ever sexually thought of him in the way that he always sexually thought of her.

"What I want for my birthday is for you to take me to your bedroom and make out with me as if you're my girlfriend and I'm your boyfriend," he said. "I've never French kissed a woman Mom," he said lying again. "Other than kissing grandma, my aunt, and you, I've never kissed a woman on the lips. I'm embarrassed to say that I don't even know how to properly kiss a woman," he said looking at her as if looking at his teacher while asking for her help. "Will you at least teach me how to properly kiss a woman?"

There was a long pause while they stared at one another. Then, she spoke as if agreeing to take him to the toy store for his birthday to buy him a toy. The only toys that he wanted to play with was his mother's lips, his mother's tits, his mother's ass, and his mother's pussy. On this day, his 18th birthday, the only toy that he wanted to play with was her and the only toy that he wanted her to play with was his cock. At that moment in time, he didn't want anything or anyone other than his mother.

She stared at him without talking. They stared at one another without either one saying a single word. As if they remained like that for an hour, their silence was no more than a minute. He hoped the sexual heat that burned inside of him burned inside of his mother too. He hoped that his mother was as agreeable to making out with him as he was needing and wanting to make out with her.

"Okay, sure. I can do that for you. I can teach you how to properly kiss a woman but you must promise me that we can't do any more than that. Also and more importantly, you must promise me that you'll never tell your father, your sister, or anyone that we kissed in that inappropriate, incestuous, sexual way," she said.

He looked at her looking at him in the way that he's never seen his mother look at him before. She looked at him as if she was hungry. She looked at him as if she was thinking about being naughty. She looked at him as if she was no longer his mother and he was no longer her son. She looked at him with as much sexual passion as he looked at her.

"Don't worry Mom, it will be our secret," said Paul. "I promise not to try anything more than kissing you. I promise not to tell anyone that you allowed me to make out with you on my birthday."

Already breaking his promise in his mind, he imagined feeling her breasts and fingering her nipples while kissing and kissing her. He imagined going up the back of her short nightshirt not only to expose her panty clad ass but also to feel her beautiful, tight, little ass through her panty. He imagined going up the front of her short nightgown to finger her dark, brown trimmed pussy through her lacy panties. Actually, with him never seeing her pussy, he had no idea if she was bald, trimmed, or bushy. He just figured she was trimmed.

"It's isn't as if we're going to be making out Paul. It's just a kiss or two for demonstration purposes only," she said. "Totally respectable in our intensions, as if I was teaching you how to dance with a woman, it's just me teaching you how to kiss a woman.

What may just be a kiss to her wasn't just a kiss to him. What she imagined was demonstration purposes only was his intended for practical applications, namely to have sex with his mother. This was something serious good. This was the start of something beautiful.

"Just give me a minute to get dressed," she said.

Get dressed? He panicked. He didn't want her to get dressed. No way. If anything, he'd prefer she got undressed. Picturing her wearing jeans and a turtleneck sweater beneath a bulletproof vest, there was no way that he wanted her changing out of her thin nightshirt other than to don a sheer nightgown without wearing her bra and panties.

"No," he said. "The way you are dressed in your nightshirt is just fine. We can leave the light off if you're more comfortable."

As if he was a blind man who could finally see, he imagined reaching for her and groping her in the dark.

"Okay," she said.

Taking him by the hand, Ashley escorted her son into her bedroom as if they were boyfriend and girlfriend instead of mother and son. She took him in her bedroom as if her son was some, strange man she invited home after making his acquaintance in a bar, something she's done in the past, years ago, when she had a babysitter watching her children and when her husband was flying. With her husband gone all the time, they didn't have the happiest marriage and/or the closet relationship. Their children and this house is what cemented them together. Who knows what will happen to them when their children move away to start a life of their own?

* * * * *

She slipped off her slippers and climbed on the bed like the lady she is and without revealing too much of herself while he slipped off his slippers and moved beside her. Always sitting close to her when on the couch while watching a movie, this was the first time that he sat close to her when they were nearly naked and in bed. With him not wearing any underwear beneath his pajama pants, she was nearly fully dressed with her wearing a panty and a bra beneath her nightshirt.

Hoping to see something that he shouldn't see of her with her flaying her arms and legs in laughter, it took all the control he had not to tickle her. His mother had a pretty laugh and he loved watching her when she was happy enough to laugh. Yet, not satisfied with seeing a quick flash of her panty and/or bra in the dark, he was hoping to see more than that. He not only wanted to see her bra and panty but also he wanted to touch, feel, and fondle her.