My Mother & Stepmother Ch. 01

My Mother & Stepmother, Chapter 1

Sex with my father's first and second wives.

Two uniquely different women, I have fond, sexual memories of my mother and of my stepmother. Surprising me as much as she sexually excited me, undressing and dressing with her bedroom door wide open, my MILF of a mother sexually teased me by deliberately flashing me. Sex with my mother was an incestuous perversion. Sex with my stepmother, was a wonderful thing and a true love story.

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Author's Note:

This is a true, forbidden sexual story that Charlie asked me to write for him about his father, his mother, and his stepmother.

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A quiet man who became even more thoughtful and reflective after my mother, Rose, died, married to her for 30-years, my dad, Henry, was devoted to their love and devastated by her loss. Keeping most of his thoughts to himself, holding his emotions inside, he was never a big communicator. He never wanted to talk, especially about himself and/or his feelings. Instead, to show that he was listening, he nodded his head and smiled.

Short on words but big on actions, when he liked you, he'd do anything for you. Judging by how he took care of his second wife, Brianna, he loved her. He truly loved her.

Yet, their age difference was baffling to me. He was 68-years-old and she was 30-years-old. I can understand a man being sexually attracted to a woman more than half his age but why would a woman be sexually attracted to a man more than twice her age, especially a man in bad health and literally on his deathbed? After the priest gave him his last rights, symbolic in gesture, she had the priest marry them.

In the way that there's a 34-year age difference between Katherine McPhee and David Foster, he's 72-years-old and she's 38-years-old, unless my father was rich, which he wasn't, their relationship and ultimate marriage didn't make any sense to me. When my father is 80-years-old, and near the end of his life, should he live that long, which he didn't, she'd be 38-years-old and at the middle of her life. Why would a young and vibrant, beautiful woman be saddled with an unhealthy, old man.

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An understatement, my father was behind the times. He didn't have a computer and had no idea how to use a computer. Not even having a cellphone, he hated using the phone.

"Cellphones are too impersonal. Unable to tell if they're lying to me, I'd rather see a person's face and look them in the eyes when talking to them," he said. "Besides, the keyboards are too small for my big fingers. I have no idea how anyone types on them."

I laughed at his ignorance of cellphones.

"Cellphones have cameras, Dad. You can see their faces. The cellphones today are like talking to an interactive video," I said.

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He never understood all those people staring at their cellphones constantly and continually while not talking to and/or interacting with anyone who wasn't at the other end of their cellphone. Not even looking to see where they were going, he didn't understand the fixation with cellphones. Moreover, he didn't know why anyone would pay eight-hundred-dollars for an Apple iPhone 14. If ever he broke down and bought a cellphone, he'd buy the cheapest phone available.

He'd only want to use the phone for making calls out and receiving calls in. He didn't need to use his cellphone as an entertainment center to make and watch videos. Not even knowing what the internet ism how to use it, and all that it can do, he didn't go on the Internet.

Not much on writing either, he never wrote a letter to me the entire twenty-years that I was in the Army. Instead, he wrote quick, little notes, blubs I called them. He preferred funny postcards with pictures of dogs. A dog lover, he loved dogs. Every morning, he'd turn over a new page of his daily, dog calendar. He liked the selection of pictures on postcards and the limited space in back of postcards that allowed him to write not more than a paragraph.

"Everything is good here. I hope you're well. Stay safe. Take care. Love Dad," was what he typically wrote on the back of his postcards.

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Impersonal and short, that was my father. Rarely talking to me, even when I lived at home, he treated me the same way with his impersonal and short answers. I'd call him but he never answered his phone. I'd leave messages but he never returned my calls. Suffice to write, I wasn't close to my father. Physically, emotionally, and sexually, especially sexually, I was closer to my mother.

Something my father seemingly didn't know, with my mother an exhibitionist, and with her always wearing short, low-cut, and sexy clothes, unembarrassed and unashamed, as soon as I turned 21-years-old, she continually sexually teased me by flashing me. When walking by her bedroom, she'd have her bedroom door wide open and her bedroom light on.

I thought I was seeing things. I thought I was imagining things. I did a double take when I walked by her bedroom. Needing to look again to see what I thought I saw, I stopped in my tracks and backpedaled.

My MILF of a mother was sitting at her vanity table naked while brushing her hair. I couldn't believe my mother was totally naked. The first time seeing my mother without her clothes, I couldn't believe my eyes.

From that moment forward, whenever I saw her bedroom door open and her bedroom light on, I'd stand in the open doorway of my mother's bedroom while watching her dress and undress. While talking to her as if she was fully dressed, I'd watch her remove her nightgown. I'd watcher pull up her panties. I'd watch her put on her bra.

Expecting her to ask me to leave and close her bedroom door behind me, surprised when she didn't, I knew that she wanted me to watch her dress and undress as much as I wanted to watch her dress and undress. Oddly enough my mother wanted me to see her topless. She wanted me to see her naked. She wanted me to see her topless and/or naked as much as I wanted to see her topless and/or naked. If it wasn't enough that I was seeing my MILF of a mother without her clothes, I couldn't believe that she was deliberately flashing me.

If my father knew that I saw my mother naked, he wouldn't understand the sexual desire that I had for my mother. He'd be angry. If he knew that I stayed in her bedroom doorway watching her dress and undress, he'd think me a pervert, mentally twisted, and having a screw loose, and he'd be right. Yet, giving me plenty to masturbate over later, I loved seeing my mother without her clothes. I loved seeing her so vulnerably exposed.

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Every night, with her giving me a sexy, naked show and with me her captive audience of one, I watched her brush her long, black hair one-hundred strokes with each hand. Her hair traveled all the way down her back to the top of her ass. Instead of allowing her hair to flow free, harnessing it, she tied it up in a bun on the top of her head.

As if she brushed her hair just for me, as if she was Lady Godiva sitting at her vanity table naked instead of sitting on a horse naked, my mother was naked. I couldn't believe she was naked. Hard to wrap my head around, I couldn't believe I was seeing my mother without her clothes.

Never tiring of seeing her topless and/or naked show, while getting her clothes together ready to wear, I watched my mother prance around her bedroom without her clothes. Naked ass, naked pussy, and naked tits, my mind was filled with the naked images of my mother. A typical Italian woman, she was short, about 5'3" tall with big tits, and big hips.

As if I'm hypnotized when seeing her naked breasts, a vision as beautiful as it was sexually exciting, I watched her breasts gently bounce up and down and sway side-to-side with each brush of her beautiful hair. As if mesmerized by the sight of her naked, bushy, black pussy, and her big albeit, shapely, naked ass, I couldn't remove my eyes from my mother's big, naked tits. A confessed breast man, I loved tits, especially big tits and my mother certainly had big ones.

Admittedly, it's one thing to see naked tits, but it's something else entirely to see my mother's naked tits. With me standing in her bedroom doorway staring, she didn't make a move to cover her naked breasts with her forearms and/or her nipples with her hands. It was as if my mother wanted me to see her naked breasts and erect nipples as much as I wanted to see her naked breasts and erect nipples.

Her breasts were as shapely as they were big. With her having a sexy and shapely body of a woman 10-years-younger, her breasts hardly sagged at all. The first time seeing my mother's naked breasts, I'll be masturbating over this day for the rest of my life.

Making my sexual fantasy complete, I only wished I could touch them. I only wished I could feel them. I only wished that I could pull, turn, and twist her erect nipples, while sucking her nipples. Imagining them hanging down in my face, I'd love to have my wicked, sexual way with my mother's naked tits.

Sexually excited and happy that she did, I was baffled why my mother would deliberately expose her naked breasts to me. Glad that she exposed her beautiful, naked breasts to my horny eyes, not questioning my good luck, yet, I didn't understand why she did. I wondered, is she as sexually attracted to me as much as I'm sexually attracted to her? Hard for me to believe, as simple of an explanation as that, maybe my mother was, indeed, an exhibitionist.

Giving me a better view of her huge, naked breasts, after she brushed her hair, she'd stand and turn to face me while talking to me and looking for a bra to wear. I'd watch her leaning over her lingerie drawer with her big tits leaning forward with her. While I continued staring at my mother's big tits, we'd talk to one another as if she was fully dressed instead of standing there topless. She'd try on one bra and then, remove it to try on another.

"What do you think of his bra," she'd ask me? "I like the color," she'd say while cupping her big, bra clad breasts in the palms of her hands.

I dare say that my mother got off on me seeing her in her bras. Clearly, it sexually aroused her for me to watch her put on a bra, model it, and then remove it to try on another bra. Not happy with how she looked in that bra, she'd try on another and another.

Unable to remove my eyes from her huge, double D cup breasts, I'd stare at all that I could see of her naked breasts, erect nipples, and symmetrical areolas. From that day forward, I masturbated every night and every morning over seeing my mother's naked tits. I masturbated over my naked mother while imagining touching, feeling, and fondling her naked breasts while sucking her big nipples. Years later, even after my mother died, I still masturbate over imagining seeing and touching my mother's naked tits.

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Whenever I heard her walking upstairs to deliver my laundry, returning the sexual favor of seeing my mother topless and naked, knowing she'd open my bedroom door without knocking, I'd quickly strip myself naked. In the way that she deliberately allowed me to see her naked, I wanted my mother to see me naked. In the way that I saw my mother's big, naked breasts, I wanted her to see my big, erect prick. I was sexually excited to be naked in front of my mother. In the way that I masturbated over seeing her naked breasts, I couldn't wait to masturbate over her seeing my naked prick later.

I'd sit in front of my computer wearing only my headphones while masturbating myself and pretending that I didn't know my mother was in my room. Surprising me, instead of leaving she'd stay to watch me stroking my cock. Sometimes, she'd stay long enough to watch me cum.

I loved cumming for my mother. Clearly, my mother loved watching me cum, too. I recorded her on my computer camera feeling her breasts and fingering her erect nipples through her thin nightgown while she watched me masturbate myself. She'd even lift the front of her nightgown to rub her clit and finger her pussy. My mother masturbated herself to me masturbating myself.

Doing something incestuously forbidden, I loved exposing my naked prick to my mother. I loved seeing her reaction to seeing my naked cock. I loved masturbating for my mother. I loved seeing her reaction to seeing me stroking my cock and cumming. Only, wishing that I had, full of sexual regrets, I never had the courage to sexually seduce my mother. Now, I wonder if she would have had sex with me if only, I had sexually solicited her.

Afraid she'd tell my father that I sexually molested her, I would have loved to have made love to my mother. I would have loved to have fucked her. I would have loved to have masturbated her pussy while rubbing her clit, finger fucking her pussy, and licking her cunt. I would have loved for her to have sucked my cock. I would have loved to have ejaculated a load of cum in my mother's mouth.

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Then, I had an idea. As sexually exciting as it was perversely perverted, I hoped that I could pull it off. Acting totally innocent, I wondered if my mother would enable me and help me flash her. Instead of deliberately showing her my naked prick while making it appear unintentional, making her ask to see my cock, on the false pretense that there was something wrong with my penis, I decided to deliberately expose myself to my mother.

One morning, when she was in the kitchen drinking her coffee, before entering the kitchen, I unbuttoned my pajama pee hole. Every time I moved or leaned; my cock nearly fell out of my pajama pee hole. From where she was sitting, I knew she could see my cock in the opening of my pajama bottoms. With my half-erect prick at eye level or at mouth level, I walked over to her and stood in front of her.

A bit distracted, from where I was standing, never expecting such a great, down-blouse view, I could see down her low-cut, sexy nightgown top. A double deliberate flash, I was flashing my mother my naked prick and she was flashing me her naked breasts. My favorite flash, I loved seeing down my mother's nightgown top. I loved seeing whatever I could of her naked breasts. Surprising me by her voyeurism, with her staring at all that she could see of my naked prick, I stared at all that I could see of her naked tits.

"Mom, I think there's something wrong with my penis," I said with sadness mixed with fear.

Hoping that she'd believe me and ask to see my naked prick, she looked up at me before she looked down at the bulge in my pajama bottoms.

"Why do you think there's something wrong with your penis," she asked showing the concern of a mother?

While she continued looking down at the bulge in my pajama bottoms, I continued looking down my mother's nightgown top. I loved seeing the tops of her meaty breasts and her long, sexy line of cleavage. If only she'd lean forward a little more, she'd give me a great down blouse view of not only her big tits but also of her erect nipples, too. As soon as I thought that, she did that. She leaned forward more and her nightgown top leaned forward and open with her. Now, I had a clear view down my mother's nightgown top at her naked breasts.

I could clearly see the entire shape and size of my mother's big tits. I could clearly see her erect nipples. I could clearly see her symmetrical areolas. I could clearly see all the way down her open nightgown. I could even clearly see the top of her brown, pubic hair.

"It's not getting as hard as it used to get," I said lying.

I was unable to think of a better excuse for her to ask to see my naked prick. I hoped she'd ask to have me demonstrate the hardness of my prick by watching me stroke myself. How hot would that be for my mother to watch me masturbate myself while I stood directly in front of her. While hoping that she'd go for it, believe me, and ask to see my naked prick, I hoped she'd ask me to masturbate for her.

With her watching and staring at my fingers playing with the head of my cock through my pajama bottoms, I continued fondling the head of my prick through my pajama bottoms. With my mother staring down at my pajama clad cock, immediately I was developing an erection. My cock throbbed with the sexual anticipation of my mother asking to see my naked cock. My cock pulsated with the sexual anticipation of my mother asking me to stroke myself.

"Show mommy your penis. Let mommy see," she said. My ruse worked. I couldn't believe my mother asked to see my naked penis. "Show me your penis, Charlie," she said again. "I want to see it. Let mommy see your penis."

Hoping that she would, in the way that I wanted to ask her to see her naked breasts, I couldn't believe that my mother wanted to see my naked prick. As if I was doing a striptease for my mother, I slowly lowered my pajama bottoms while holding my naked prick in my hand. Sexually exciting me, she didn't remove her eyes from my naked prick in the way that I didn't remove my eyes from her naked tits.

Giving me an excuse to masturbate myself in front of my mother, not standing more than foot away from her mouth, I stroked myself in front of her. It made me even more sexually excited that the head of my cock was nearly pressed against my mother's lips. Hoping beyond hope, I'd love to cum in my mother's mouth. I'd love to cum all over her pretty face.

With cumming for my mother in mind, I stroked myself faster. I stroked myself harder. I was so close to her that again, I couldn't help myself from imagining cumming in my mother's mouth and all over her pretty face. I wondered if she'd open her mouth and take my stiff prick inside. I wondered what her reaction would be if I accidentally on purpose shot a load of cum all over her pretty face. Would she laugh or would she be angry?

"Take your hand away. Let mommy see your penis, Charlie," she said.

As if she was my doctor of urology who needed a sample of cum, she leaned forward for a closer look of my cock and, when she did, her nightgown fell forward and open with her. There they were as if sculpted by Pablo Picasso, true works of art, my mother's beautiful, naked breasts. Now, again, I could clearly see the entire size and shape of her supersized breasts and her erect nipples. She had big nipples and I could feel my mouth go in the shape of a goldfish looking to be fed.

She shocked me when she reached out and cupped my testicles in her soft, warm hand. I couldn't believe my mother was holding my balls in the palm of her hand. Then, further sexually surprising me, and controlling me, she wrapped her fingers around my flaccid prick while staring up at me before looking down at my naked prick. Then, not stopping there, while closely examining my cock, she started slowly stroking me.

Something that I had imagined she'd do; my mother was stroking my cock. She was masturbating me. I couldn't believe she was having her wicked, sexual way with my naked prick in the way that I wished I could have my wicked, sexual way with her naked tits. Then, as if she saw through my ruse, seemingly knowing full well what I was doing and why I was doing it, she looked up at me to give me a naughty look and a sexy smile.

I couldn't believe my mother was stroking my cock. My MILF of a mother was giving me a hand job. I couldn't believe my mother was giving me a hand job. I couldn't believe my mother knew that I had deliberately flashed her for her to give me sex. Instead of stopping and admonishing me for tricking her and deceiving her, she continued giving me what I sexually wanted and needed.

"I don't see anything wrong with your penis. It feels plenty hard to me, Charles," she said looking up at me before looking down at my erect, naked prick. While breathing through her mouth, my mother seemed to swoon with what she was going to say next. "Your cock is much bigger and much harder than your father's prick," she said squeezing my cock in her soft, warm hand. Then, she gave me that sexy look and a naughty smile again. "I'll prove there's nothing wrong with your penis," she said while letting out another sexy, little laugh.