Mom Strips Naked for Nude Day Ch. 03
Chapter Three - Do You Have a Favorite?
"Do you have a favorite?"
"Do I have a favorite what?"
She looked at him with disgust, as if she'd been asked her favorite sexual position. It was a look he had never seen from her before, unless she was talking about her neighbor, Vicky, who had been married and divorced three times and who had slept with many of the neighborhood's married men. Now he wondered if she did not only have a favorite incestuous story but also a favorite sexual position. No doubt, his naked mother's favorite sexual position for him, would be with his mother her on knees looking up at him with his stiff cock buried in her mouth, while he played with her tits and fingered her nipples.
"Do you have a favorite story?"
As if a fast forward movie, Jason's stories ran through his mind. He thought of his story, Mom Catches Me Masturbating Over Her Panties, while remembering all the times he masturbated, while holding and sniffing her worn panties. When thinking of another one of his favorite stories, My Drunken Mother Forces Me to Have Sex with Her, he imagined her coming home drunk with him having to undress her for bed, while feeling and touching her everywhere. The imagined images of his story, Videotaping My Mother Undressing, ran through his mind, while the companion story to that, Watching My Mom Masturbating, stirred his cock to an erection. Then, he thought of his story, Helping My Mother Take a Bath. Rub-a-dub-dub, he'd love to wash her big tits in the bath tub. Taking my Mom to my Prom and to my Bed was always one of his favorites, where he imagined making out with his mother in the backseat of a car, before he thought of another one of his favorite stories, Mom Gives Me a Birthday Blowjob. Alas, the thought of his new, unfinished story, Mom Strips Naked for Nude Day, made his heart ache and his cock throb.
"Jason! I'm your mother," she said interrupting his remembered compilation of his incestuous stories about her.
He looked at her and she appeared embarrassed. Yet, he wondered, was she embarrassed by his question or by what she felt, while reading all his stories and by thinking about which story was her favorite.
"It's just a story, Mom and it's just a question," he said with a shrug.
"Just a story? Just a question? You wrote explicitly sexual, dirty stories about me, your mother, and then you have the audacity to ask me if I have a favorite, incestuous story about me having sex with you, my son. How dare you? What's wrong with you? Have I lost you to the Devil?"
Knowing her in the way that he did and in the way that only a son could know his mother, she was complaining too much. With much in common genetically, he wondered what else they had in common. Wouldn't it be funny, if his mother was as titillated by reading his incestuous stories, as he was writing his incestuous stories? Wouldn't it be sexually exciting, if his mother thought about bedding him, as much as he thought about bedding her? Wouldn't it be ideal, if his mother masturbated over him, as much as he masturbated over her. Maybe she feels and stiffs his underwear, before putting them in the wash. Maybe she licks and sucks his cum stains in the way that he licks and sucks her panties and in the way that she'd like to lick and suck his cock.
"Sorry, Mom," said Jason returning back to reality and looking at his mother with a sudden renewed insightfulness, while keeping in mind that she read all of his stories.
"I don't know what else to say to you, other than I'm very disappointed in you," she said, her way of always making him feel guilty.
Nonetheless, no matter what she said to shame him, he still couldn't believe that she read all of his stories. If she was so offended by all that he wrote, if she was so grossed out by incest, why would she read all of his stories? He couldn't believe he was about to ask her the question, but he needed to know the answer.
"Forgive me for being so boldly disrespectful, Mother, but if my stories so offended you and if you didn't stop reading my stories, after starting to read the first story, and if you continued reading, until you read all of my stories, you must have enjoyed reading them. Thusly, I dare say, you must have a favorite story or favorites."
Elizabeth looked at her son, while running her fingers through her long, lush, brown hair and biting her lip. She looked, as if she was about to do or say something impulsively out of character. With her words telling him no, her body language said the opposite. In the way she played with her hair, there it was, the first sign that he was getting to her. He's never seen her look this way, fearful and vulnerable, yet, excited, while still trying to be in control.
If she had a cigarette and was a smoker, he imagined she'd want a cigarette right about now. If she had a drink and was a drinker, he could see her sitting on his bed with a cigarette in one hand and a drink in the other, while discussing which stories she liked the best and why she liked them. Only, his mother wasn't the smoking and drinking type. Not even if it was a discussion about the birds and the bees, never is when she'd ever talk to him about sex.
Too taboo of an off limit subject, she'd never openly discuss sex with him, especially incestuous sex between mother and son, especially incestuous sex between him and her. She was more than a bit uptight, when it comes to revealing her emotions, sexual or otherwise. Now that he saw firsthand how she reacted to his stories, he wondered if she was a victim and a survivor of sexual abuse. He wondered what happened to her to make her so uptight and nervous.
So quick to point him in the direction of a psychiatrist, he wondered if ever she had therapy over what may have happened to her. Discussing sex with her was taboo, which is why discussing his stories of incest with her and forcing her to talk so openly about sex, of all things, was so much fun for him to watch. He watched her squirming, while trying to remain in control. Only, she surprised him, shocked him, actually, when she finally, openly, and honestly answered his question.
"Actually, I do have a favorite story," said Elizabeth continuing to run her fingers through her long hair to fluff it out, as if she was brushing it in readiness for bed.
Then, she did his favorite thing. She tossed her full, lush head of hair back in eagerness to give him her opinion of which story she enjoyed the most. Now, instead of looking at him with distain, she looked at him with renewed interest. She looked at him in the way that he so often imagined her looking at him, when they were just about to kiss.
Every time she flipped back her hair with a toss of her head, he imagined his mother leaning over him and flipping back her hair, before taking his cock in her mouth to suck him. If Jason read his mother's body language correctly, in the way she continually touched her hair, when talking to him, and in the way she continued to make solid eye contact, when looking at him, unbelievably and undeniably, he'd say that she was as sexually aroused as he was. After reading his sexy and sexual stories about her, was she as sexually aroused by reading his stories, as he was sexually aroused in writing his stories. Only, more than a bit gun shy, after being wrong about her before, he wondered if he was wrong about her again, now.
Perhaps, her telling him which story she enjoyed the best would give him some insight into what she was thinking. Now, as if a fast forward movie, all of his stories about her ran through his mind again. Mom Catches Me Masturbating Over Her Panties, My Drunken Mother Forces Me to Have Sex with Her, Videotaping My Mother Undressing, Watching My Mom Masturbating, Helping My Mother Take a Bath, Taking my Mom to my Prom and to my Bed, Mom Gives Me a Birthday Blowjob, and his unfinished story, Mom Strips Naked for Nude Day. The sudden flash of images of imagining her naked, while performing so very many sexual acts on him was an incestuous overload.
"Which one or ones did you like the best, Mom? Aside from the deplorable sexual material, I'm just curious, which story interested you," he said switching out the word 'excite' with 'interest'.
She looked at him, as if he was a perspective boyfriend, than her son. In the way she looked at him, her stare excited him. He wondered if it was her pheromones giving off a sexual discharge that aroused him even more.
"First, I need to make this clear that I continued reading your stories not so much because of the vile content of the material, Jason, and not so much because they were all about me, but because the writing was so good. Not an easy thing to do, being that I'm your mother, but I was able to detach myself from the material and from the story by pretending that you were writing about someone else," she said a bit haughtily with attitude, while playing with her hair again.
"Of course, Mother. I realize that," he said, while wondering if she knew she was playing with her hair.
"I concentrated more on the writing than on the subject matter. To be honest, even if they were about someone else's mother, the subject matter was offensively deplorable and the explicit, incestuous sex was perversely horrible. Yet, I persevered," she said, while continuing to make finger curls with her hair. "I continued reading your stories because you, my son, created them, developed them, edited them, and wrote them. I'm so very proud you, Jason," she said pausing from playing with her hair to wipe a tear from her eye.
"I see," said Jason unable to hide his disappointment that his mother wasn't ready to have an incestuous relationship with him.
"You're a wonderful writer, Jason, very talented, indeed, but you need to chose a different subject."
"Thank you, Mother."
"Perhaps you could write a story about a boy and his dog or a love story about a woman your age and about you falling in love with someone, who falls in love with you, too," she said suddenly looking at him, as if he had just picked her up in a bar and was about to make the moves on her.
"Yes, of course. Perhaps, I should write those stories," said Jason confused by the look she was giving him. Then, he noticed the impressions his mother's nipples suddenly made through her bra and blouse. Was she cold or was she sexually excited, he wondered? "So, forgetting about the offensively deplorable subject matter for a moment, Mother, and forgetting that the incestuous stories were about me making love to you, just for creative writing sake, being that you already said that you have a favorite story, which particular story did you enjoy more than the others?"
"Actually, and I'm embarrassed to admit this," she said blushing, while looking away, before establishing eye contact again, "but the story about me having sex with you, my son, while drunk, seemed plausible to me," she said looking at him with desire.
"My Drunken Mother Forces Me to Have Sex with Her? Is that the story?"
"Yes, for multiple reasons, all related to naughty feelings of guilt and wicked feelings of taboo, I can see that happening," said Elizabeth, her face turning Ferrari red in color.
"Really," said Jason.
The fact that she was so deeply blushing was telling. He wondered if he'd have any sexual success in getting his mother drunk. Only, other than wine at Thanksgiving and Christmas dinner and a glass of champagne at New Year's Eve, she seldom drank alcohol and never indulged in drugs. If she was freely discussing incest now, he could only imagined how sexually excited his mother would be, when high on cocaine. No doubt, she'd be a wild woman in bed. No doubt, she wouldn't care, if it was her son that she was fucking and sucking.
"It's difficult for me to believe that any mother would have sex with her son, of course, but if the mother was so incapacitated by alcohol and if her son was so perverse in thought and determined in his incestuous desire to have sex with his mother, I could see how that could happen," she said curling her hair with her finger again. "That is, so long as their sexual union was a loving one, done in a loving way, as only a mother can do with her son, and not merely a sexual one," she said continuing to twirl her hair around her finger in the way that he imagined her twirling her tongue around his cock.
"I see, Mother. Thank you, that's valuable feedback, especially coming from a mother's perspective," said Jason wishing his mother was drunk and naked now.
"I don't think that any mother would turn away her son," she said turning red again, "especially when she was drunk or high and/or when her son was in desperate need of some emotionally understanding, loving affection, and physical attention, such as, if he returned home from war and was mentally or physically wounded or, after a bad breakup with his wife or girlfriend."
"I see," said Jason now thinking that, if only he had a sad enough story to tell his Mom, she may willingly give him sex. "Actually, that's very valuable and insightful feedback, Mother, something that I can certainly take away with me to use with my next story, if ever I find the inspiration to continue with and finish this Mom Strips Naked for Nude Day story first," he said with exaggerated sadness.
Then, he thought of all that she had just said. Was she asking him to get her drunk? Was she asking him to tell her something that so troubled him that she'd give him her emotional understanding, loving affection, and physical attention? Was she asking him to take advantage of her, while she was so incapacitated and/or feeling so motherly towards him? Treading on uncharted ground, he didn't know. So completely wrong about her before, and no longer trusting his instincts about her now, he couldn't tell what she was thinking.
"Having read how you wrote and worded that particular story about a drunken mother having sex with her son," she said seemingly preoccupied with that one particular story and that one particular scenario of a son taking advantage of his drunken mother. "When removing the incestuous sex, it was a truly beautiful and loving story," she said suddenly becoming more animated, as if she was imagining Jason taking advantage of her in that story.
"Thank you, Mother."
"I can see how that really could happen, a son taking advantage of his passed out, drunken mother," she continued, not dropping the subject, obviously having more to say on the subject. "Undressing her, removing her blouse and skirt, seeing her in her bra and panty, before unhooking her bra and sliding down her panty, stripping her naked, and seeing her completely nude, actually," she said pausing from quoting his story to toy with the top button of her blouse.
"Yes, that would be exciting for a son to see his mother drunk and/or incapacitated and nude," said Jason with his mind filled with the imagined image of his mother drunk, incapacitated, and nude.
"I imagine a mother wouldn't resist being put to bed, but would welcome the sordid, albeit seemingly innocent help from her son to undress her. Then, while freely feeling her naked body, I can understand a son wanting to touch his mother everywhere. Just as you wrote it, I imagine a son wanting to feel his mother where no son should ever feel his mother," she said pausing to bite her lip, while fluttering her eyelashes.
"Thank you for that valuable feedback, Mother," he said. As if she was confessing her incestuous, sexual fantasy to him, as if she was writing her own incestuous story, she was making him hot and horny for her.
"Being that she was drunk and so indisposed, I imagined him touching her, feeling her, and exploring her body would only be normal and natural for a son, excited from seeing his mother naked, to do. Under those circumstances, I can understand a son wanting to have his wicked way with his mother in that forbidden, sexual way and his mother wanting to have her sexual way with her son," she said becoming flushed and flustered, as if she was about to faint from sexual arousal.
"Thank you, Mother. I'll take your valuable feedback, as a compliment to my writing," he said now wondering how he could get his mother drunk enough for her to play out her sexual fantasy, if indeed, that's what this was.
Going with the flow in his thoughts about her being drunk and naked, maybe her friends could take her to dinner, he thought. Maybe then, so long as she didn't drive herself home, she'd use her excessive drinking during dinner, as her excuse to come home drunk and allow him to strip her naked and help her to bed. He imagined slowly undressing her, unbuttoning her blouse to expose her bra and unzipping her skirt to expose her panty. He imagined touching and feeling her through her bra and panty, before unhooking her bra and sliding down her panty. Once she was naked, fingering her nipples and fingering her pussy, he imagined picking her up in his arms and putting her to bed. Once she was in bed and with him leaning over her to suck her big tits, he imagined her touching his cock through his pajamas, while he felt her breasts and fingered her nipples. He imagined her removing his erect cock from his pajamas and taking him in her mouth.
"Or, as despicable as human nature can be, in the case of your story, a mother using her drunkenness, as her excuse to hide her true sexual feelings for her son and to seduce him to have sex with him, the story, My Drunken Mother Forces Me to Have Sex with Her, probably happens more than we know," she said picking up a magazine to fan herself.
"I see," said Jason, continuing to wonder if his mother was hinting at having sex with him by giving him the thought to get her drunk, along with the thought of what would happen, if he did get her drunk.
Just as in his story, he suddenly imagined his mother drunk, helpless, and naked. He imagined undressing her, stripping her naked, and putting her to bed, while touching and feeling her big breasts, fingering and sucking her nipples, and rubbing her clit, while finger fucking her pussy. He wondered the kind of sounds she make, when having an orgasm. He looked at her full, red lips and wondered what it would be like to kiss them and to French kiss her. After hearing her reveal her sexual feelings, even if he was to fulfill her sexual fantasy, he'd always wonder, was she really drunk or was she pretending to be so indisposed?
After stripping her naked, he'd so love to strip himself naked, while she was naked, too. Imagining himself sleeping in the same bed with her, moving her hand to his cock, maybe even moving his cock to her drunken lips to see if she'd take the hint and suck him, he could only imagine the reaction she'd have the next morning finding herself naked with him naked in bed with her, too. He wondered her reaction to seeing and feeling his cock. He wondered if his mother sucked cock. He wondered if she'd allow him to cum in her mouth. He wondered if she swallowed.
"Perhaps, without even realizing it, as a very talented writer, you've used your insightfulness for incest to capture the secret, forbidden desires of a mother for her son," she said almost in a whisper, as if she was talking to herself about herself, while admitting something to him that was so forbidden, yet so exciting. "Truth be told, I'm sure just as many mothers have wicked thoughts about sleeping with their sons, as sons have about sleeping with their mothers. Only, with a woman different than a man, a mother wouldn't act upon her incestuous impulses in the way that a man would. She'd have to be taken and forced to enjoy the incestuous, sexual encounter."
Was his mother asking him to take her? Was she asking him to force her? Was she asking him to rape her. He imagined taking her in her arms and kissing her hard, before ripping off her clothes and stripping her naked. He imagined her trying to fight him off, but too strong for her, he imagined having his wicked way with her. Then, finally, embracing the inevitable, he imagined her wrapping her shapely legs around his strong back to fuck him, as if she was a wild animal in heat. He could only imagined the blowjob that she'd give him then, after he gave her an orgasm with his mouth and another one with his cock. He could only imagine the hot sex they'd have every day thereafter.