Mom Seduces Virgin Son on Nude Day
This is a Nude Day contest story. Please vote.
There are no underage characters in this story. All characters are over the age of eighteen.
Mother celebrates Nude Day by getting naked and having sex with her son.
"Mom? Guess what?" Michael rushed in the backdoor and ran through the kitchen, the dining room, and the living room looking for his mother. "Mom? Where are you?"
"I'm upstairs Michael," said Susan.
'Same thing every day, sometimes multiple times a day, he's always excited over something. I wish I had his energy,' she thought to herself while smiling at his exuberant innocence. 'I only wished I had the guts to shock him by standing here naked. Acting shocked that he caught me naked, what would he do, what would he say, if he saw me standing here naked? Would he look? Would he stare? Or would he avert his eyes and look away?'
Taking two steps at a time, two late for her to reconsider her decision to strip off her clothes to surprise him, Michael bounded up the stairs. If only she still had his zest for life, she'd be the party girl that she never had a chance to be, especially now that she's a responsible mother. A role she enjoyed playing more now than before, she was finally satisfied with her life, albeit sexually frustrated with her lonely existence as a single mother. If anyone was to see how her face lights up when seeing her son, it'd be no secret that she wanted to have sex with her son just as much, if not more, than he wanted to have sex with her.
Always something, she couldn't even imagine what it was now.
"What is it honey?" He was always so excitable. If he was this excited over nothing, she couldn't even imagine what he'd be naked and like in bed with her. "Calm down, take a breath, and just tell Mommy what it is."
Sometimes, in the way of private pillow talk, albeit without the sex, just as much as she enjoyed him calling her Mommy, that is, unless they were out in public, she enjoyed referring to herself as his Mommy.
'What now she wanted to say with a laugh?' Her constant source of excited entertainment, she couldn't even imagine what it was he had to tell her. 'Did he finally get a job? Was he admitted to Harvard? Did he find a girlfriend? Does he need money for this or for that? Would he like to strip me naked? May I strip him naked? Does he want me to suck him and fuck him because I will? He only need to ask for me to make love to him,' she wondered while imagining him naked and what the answer was to his guess what question.
Never something that she wants, a typical teenager, self-absorbed and self-centered, always about him and never about her, what he had to tell her was always something that he did, wanted to do, wanted, or needed. Always it was something that made her wonder why he was so excited to tell her.
"Guess what?" He stood at the top of the stairs looking at her with excited wonderment while she folded clean clothes that she had just removed from the dryer.
In the way that he looked at her, as if undressing her with his eyes, was the same way that she looked at him. As if she was standing there topless, he was always staring at her tits.
"I don't know. I give up. You found Jimmy Hoffa's body. What is it?"
"Never mind," she said.
"Guess," he said.
"I don't know Michael," she said smiling with his happiness. I'm doing laundry. "You're running in the Boston Marathon next year. You won the lottery? You're going to do your own laundry. What?"
"No, way better than any of that," he beamed her his famous, contagious smile, the one that lit up his face and that lit up her face too. "I've been invited to a Nude Day party."
Busy doing laundry, with the washing machine in her ear, imagining more what he said than what he actually said, she didn't hear what he had said. If she did hear him correctly, she'd think that it was just her imagination. What he said didn't register, especially if what he said had anything at all to do with Nude Day, her most dreaded, albeit totally obscure of holidays. If he did say that he was invited to a Nude Day party, coming full circle, she'd be stunned that her past was haunting her in her present.
* * * * *
With his excitement for life so outrageously contagious, whatever it was that he had to tell her, was always something new and exciting for him to share. Whatever it was, she looked forward to hearing and sharing in his news. Thinking back when she was his age and envying whatever was his new adventure, she didn't want to diminish his joy by raining her tears of depression on his good days with her bad ones. Yet, sometimes, such a sad, little flower hiding in her room and crying, her sunshine on her cloudy days, he was her ray of hope and every time he asked her his guess what question, he made her smile.
"Guess what Mom? Guess what?"
Her major distraction from her emotional pain and suffering sorrow, the only time she was happy was when watching her son being so excited over something so unimportant in the scheme of things that really mattered. A real treasure that harkened her back to her days when she once was so happy, his innocent joy was such a pleasure. The only one who had such an effect on her, his good mood changed her mood from negative to positive and from depressed to happy. Susan only wished she had that effect on him but, sometimes even difficult for her to smile, the smiling spirit she once had in the past was long lost by all that's happened to her over the years and by how she now feels in the present. With her feelings twisted and her thoughts tormented, she always wondered how different she'd be if what happened to her on Nude Day never happened. Yet, not having any regrets, she wouldn't want to change her past for the sake of her present.
Nonetheless her bad beginning, sometimes when feeling so sad, she wished she was 19-years-old again and could live her life over. If only she knew how the mistakes she made then affected her now, perhaps she would have made different decisions. Maybe things would have been different between her and her father had her mother not died and not left them alone with one another but that's life. Meant to be, maybe there was a reason for her mother to leave her alone with her father but after thinking about the reason for twenty years, she still didn't know the answer to her life's personal riddle.
Now attracted to her son in the way she was once attracted to her father, in the way that her sexual attraction to her father was a temporary father/daughter thing, she figured that her sexual attraction to her son was just a temporary mother/son thing. If only she was 19-years-old again, she wondered if her son would be as sexually attracted to her in the way that he is now. She wondered if she'd still be attracted to him if they were the same age. Only, seeing how her life has turned out for the better after beginning so sour, happy now except for the sadness that crept in like an unexpected, chilly draft on a rainy day that left her so cold and so lonely, forever to be sullen, truth be told, she wouldn't have changed a thing.
In the scheme of all the happenings around the world, usually something so very unimportant in comparison to tornadoes, floods, poverty, hunger, homelessness, war, devastation, destruction, and murders, his 'guess what' news was always something so important to her son that he couldn't wait to tell her his news. Whether it was good or bad she looked forward to sharing the joy or the sadness that was his life. Only, this time, in the way that he excitedly ran up the stairs, he had good news instead of bad.
A rhetorical question and not really expecting her to guess, with her mind reeling with unanswered questions of what his news might be, it was fun to play his silly game of guess what nonetheless. Never did he come to the point before asking her to guess what it was he had to tell her. As if building the suspense while savoring the moment, he always took his time in telling her his news. Glad that he had good news to tell her, she needed something to get her out of her funk.
* * * * *
With her having no life of her own and actually looking forward to being a contestant in his guess what game, she thought of all the times that he barged in her bedroom while she was dressing or undressing to ask her his guess what question before sharing his trivial news with her.
"Guess what Mom?"
Once seeing her so indisposed, as if forgetting why he opened her bedroom door unannounced without knocking first, so obviously distracted by her state of undress, he appeared lost in thought in trying to remember what it was he wanted to tell her. Instead of stating his reason for barging in on her, he'd stare at all that she was inadvertently showing him and make no move to leave and/or close her door behind him. After a while, a sexy game they both enjoyed playing, Susan couldn't help but wonder if he barged in her bedroom deliberately to see what he shouldn't see of his mother? As the innocent pretense of coming in her room unannounced, as if he was making up things in the hopes of catching her naked, was that his ploy? As if in shock, he'd stand there motionless and stare at all that she was showing him and all that he was seeing of her before sharing his news while still staring at all that she was unable to immediately conceal.
"Not now Michael. I'm getting dressed," she said wanting to tell him to knock first and wait until she invited him in her bedroom but, thinking better of it, she didn't dare.
Enjoying the peek-a-boo game too much, she didn't want the game of exhibitionism and voyeurism to end. Wanting the sexy albeit incestuous game to continue, if he knocked first and waited for her invitation to tell him when she was decent, he'd never catch her naked again. If he knocked first their little game of peek-a-boo of Mommy flashing her son her tits would be over. If he knocked first, no longer would she feel the heat of hopefulness that this time was the time that he'd reach out his hand and touch her breasts, feel her breasts, fondle her breasts, and caress her breasts while fingering her nipples. If he knocked first, she'd never have the opportunity or the reason to invite him to sleep with her in her bed, in the way that she invited him in her dreams and sexual fantasies to sleep with her naked. If he knocked first, she'd no longer have anything to masturbate over while imagining him not knocking and seeing him staring at all that she was showing.
'Guess what Michael,' thought Susan to herself. 'I want you. I want to suck you. I want to fuck you. I want to make you my bitch instead of my son. Guess what Michael. Lick Mommy's pussy and give me an orgasm. I want to cum in your mouth.'
As if he was oblivious to her dressing or undressing and evidentially by his leering look he wasn't, seemingly taking his sweet time in trying to remember what it was he wanted to tell her, he wouldn't leave until he told her why he barged in on her. Now that he's of legal age, she was always so embarrassed before that he saw her in all manners of undress. Yet, now, feeling sexy about flashing him her body to him, it's difficult for her not to admit that she's sexually attracted to her son and sexually aroused for him to see her so indisposed. Now instead of just standing there while covering her naked or semi-naked body, she continues slowly undressing or dressing in front of him as if giving him a reverse strip tease show.
Instead of standing there semi-nude or naked, embarrassed, cowering and covering herself up with whatever article of clothing she could quickly grab, concealing her nudity was an involuntary reaction that she always regretted doing later. Feeling good about her decision to flash her son her body, the sexual desire she had for him heated her in the way of a fever and in the way that no man has ever done to her before. With him interested enough to stare at her underwear clad, semi-naked, and nude body, with her sexual emotions twisted and tangled, in the beginning she felt as embarrassed as she felt sexually excited that he was staring.
Now wanting to show him as much as he wants to see of her, she wants him to look as much as he obviously wants to look. In the way that her father was, always knowing her son was a voyeur, as are most men, she never knew she was an exhibitionist until, first her father and then her son, they continually caught her in some form of undress that sexually aroused her. The less clothes she had on when they barged in her room, the more sexually excited she felt, the longer she wanted to stand there, and the more she wanted to show them.
"Mom? Guess what?"
"What is it Michael?"
Instead of asking him to leave, her way of inviting him to stay, now she's no longer embarrassed that he's in her room while she's dressing or undressing. Only, after she flashed him, wondering if she was doing the right thing by her son, guilt always replaced her sexual excitement in the way that guilt replaced her sexual excitement for wanting her father. What kind of mother is she to flash her own son? What kind of daughter was she to flash her father? Obviously the same woman now that she was then, when will this perverse, incestuous, sexual excitement ever end?
Wanting to take their game a step further but afraid, she always wished that she had the audacity to play his incestuous game of exhibitionism and voyeurism longer and more often. Yet, being that she was his mother and he was her son, she always thought better of showing him all that she wanted to show him of her and all that he wanted to see of her. What would people think if they knew that not only was she purposely flashing her son but also that she was sexually aroused by the thought of flashing him? Written about throughout all of literature, even the Bible, mother and son incestuous sex, albeit forbidden, is a nearly normal rite of passage. Yet, it's one thing for a son to want to see his mother naked and for a son to stare at his mother's nakedness but what would her relatives, friends, neighbors, and acquaintances say about a mother wanting to show her son her naked body?
Dependent on her mood, now when he barges in her bedroom without the courtesy of a knock, knowing he'd be flinging open her bedroom door soon, giving him a real, live, sexy show, she purposely stands there in her bra and panty, topless, and even naked albeit briefly. With him as her captive audience of one, with him so vulnerably innocent, and with her as his sexy, porn star, it's her game to play and to control. With all good things coming to an abrupt end, she knew that once he found a girlfriend and was having sex regularly, his sexual interest in her would wane. Enjoying the sexual sensation of it all now and willingly wanting to show him as much of her body as he wants to see, slow to cover herself, she gives him a longer, discreet, motherly, sexy show of her semi-naked or naked body while hoping he'll want more.
* * * * *
'Guess what Michael,' Susan wanted to say in answer to his question. 'I want you. I want to see you naked in the way you're always trying to see me naked. I want to feel your cock in my hand before taking you in my mouth. I want to suck you Michael. I want to fuck you Michael. I want to make love to you in the way that no mother should ever make love to her son. Look at me Michael. Really look at me. I'm topless. Do you like my tits? I'm naked? What do you think of my body? Would you like to lick Mommy's pussy after I suck your cock? Would you like to fuck Mommy? Only, don't call me Mom, call me Susan.'
Even though she'd always think those salacious thoughts, she'd never act upon them nor would she say any of those things to her son. After flashing him, she always masturbated herself in the way that she imagined he masturbated himself over seeing her. She was always riddled with guilt later from flashing him her body and from thinking her sexual thoughts about her son. Yet, at the time of her flashing him, she felt so wickedly naughty and sexually excited when showing her son bits and pieces of her shapely body in all manners of undress. Unable to control herself from flashing him again, playing the innocent victim by always making him appear to be the perverted one by making her flashes appear accidental, he's the one who barged in her bedroom without knocking after all.
"Not now Michael. I'm getting dressed."
Her way of continuing his sexy game of voyeurism, whenever he was home and whenever she suspected he had something to tell her, she was always getting dressed and undressed. No doubt, like mother like son. Being that he's a horny teenager without a girlfriend and she's a frustrated, mature woman without a man in her life, he's just as horny as she is. Wanting him to see as much of her as he wants to see, no doubt, he wants to see all that she's willing to show.
An endless, albeit sexually frustrating cycle, whatever she shows him of her and whatever he sees of her is as much fodder for her masturbation as it is, no doubt, for his masturbation. Imagining him stroking himself and cumming to the sexy sights and imagined thoughts of her standing there in her bra and panties, topless, and/or naked, it excites her to think of her son stroking his cock while masturbating over the sexy sight of her. In the way that men lust over women, she wondered if women can be degenerate lechers too because, if they could, then she was a lecherous degenerate when it came to wishing she could have sex with her son.
How dare she? With all the men in the world, why does she want her son? With all the women in the world, why does her son want her? She really didn't care the reason why she wanted her son and why he wanted her, it was all just a moot point now. She was just glad that she wanted him as much as he wanted her.
* * * * *
Her exhibitionism and his voyeurism started last summer when he turned 18-years-old after graduating from high school. Now with both of them at their most sexually active ages and with no present sexual outlet for either one, a vulnerable time for both, Susan's 39-years-old and Michael's 19-years-old. As if a misty fog that always hung low in the air, whenever she was about to flash him, she felt tingling all along her soft skin that make her feel sensually alive. Just before and immediately after her deliberately flashing her son, there was an always eternal horniness, an unspoken word, and an unfinished sentence that troubled them and that hung over them in the way of a dark cloud. Even though she knew that he wanted her as much as she wanted him, tormented by incest, neither one would make the first move. With both of them at the mercy of their sexual peaks, no longer a horny boy, he was a horny man now. Just as he had unfulfilled needs and wanton desires, with her being a sexually frustrated woman, she did too.
Never shy about showing her body to men, blessed with a beautiful body and a shapely figure, her sexuality, ergo semi-nakedness and nudity, was her tool to use to attract men. Unfortunately, the irony wasn't lost on her that the men she most attracted was her father and now her son. Even though she enjoyed wearing sexy clothes and dressed provocatively, she never suspected that she was the exhibitionist slut that she was. She always thought that she was just a sexual woman, albeit a frustrated one, who enjoyed her sexuality and who enjoyed flashing her body.
Just her way of enticing men, with her mother not there to teach her and not knowing any other way, dressing provocatively was her way of seducing her son in the way she seduced her father before him. With her son always looking while, no doubt, hoping to see what he shouldn't see of his mother, she started flashing him up skirt views of her panties, up nightgown views of her pussy, down blouse views of her bra and cleavage, and down nightgown views of her breasts. Titillating in flashing him, the idea of being semi-naked and naked before her son gave her something to masturbate over later.