Something to Be Thankful For
by The Bald
The potential for disaster was great, but such is the
risk in seducing one's own mother.
THE BEGINNING
As a child-and through my teen years-I don't believe
my was the object of my friends' fantasies as
their mothers were mine. My was, well, just a
lot more motherly than their mothers. She didn't have
a nice tight body with ample that she readily
displayed in skimpy bathing suits as did my friend
Jim's mom. Nor did she have a rumored reputation of
boffing school chums of her son as my friend Chad's
mom had. To be sure, those two women, among others,
were masturbation fantasies for myself and many others
around school, but never once in my formative years
did I think about my own in that manner.
Obviously, though, I wouldn't be writing this if
my feelings about her had not changed.
To be honest, my is not a cosmetically
beautiful woman. She stands at just a few inches past
five feet and, in recent years, has added some
thickness around her thighs and hips and all that lies
between. She's always been somewhat flat in the chest
and whatever perkiness there once was in that area has
long since departed. She has fair skin accented by
numerous freckles on her face and body, typical of
those bestowed with the color of she
possesses. She is now just past fifty years of age, a
fact that is affirmed by a few more lines on her face
and a smattering of gray hairs on her head.
In my physical description of my mother, I am simply
being truthful. What that description lacks is how
wonderful of a (and now grandmother) she has
been to her children. I am the middle child,
sandwiched between two sisters. My and
met in high school, dated for a couple of years and,
then, shortly after their graduation. My
father was a hard worker, beginning as a blue-collar
laborer for the railroad before moving into the
administrative offices of the railroad later in his
career. Unfortunately, he passed away several ago,
not long after my youngest graduated from high
school. was lonely at first, of course, as all of
her children were now out of the house she raised them
in. However, my oldest had her first child-a
girl-not long after my father's death and my
soon found herself with a new generation of our
to care for. My sisters and I are all spread out
across the country (and away from Mom), so my
found herself away from her own home much of the time,
caring for my sister's children (yes, she had
more) and then my younger sister's kids as she,
herself, got into the breeding game. We all see each
other during the holidays two or three times a year
and we keep in touch by phone and written
correspondence as much as we can, too. In short,
despite being spread throughout the country-or maybe
because of it-we have remained a close family.
In my late twenties now, I have remained single
despite watching both my and younger sisters
marry and start families. With a few of my friends
from I started a small, city-wide arts review
magazine. We review local theatrical productions,
film, local authors, etc. The pay is admittedly poor,
but it does give me easy access to all of these
events, which helps my dating life. My sex life in
college, alternately, involved screwing the best
looking I could find or, occasionally, whomever I
could find. I'm no Don Juan by any means, but I was
able to hook-up with some very attractive women. On
other occasions, I hooked-up with some not so
desirable women-women I'm probably lucky I didn't
contract something from. Anyway, in the last couple
of years, I have tried to get serious about the
I have been seeing. There have been a series of
rather plain, but extremely good-hearted and kind,
women who I have spent a few to several months with
each. Despite my own good intentions, I found that I
cannot ultimately take the relationships to the next
step when that next step is needed. I became
increasingly more contemplative about this problem of
mine and the I have been in relationships with
and came to a conclusion: They are not my mom.
It seemed so obvious now. The shared so many
things with my mom-their looks, their general
personality-but they were not my mom. She was
obviously what I wanted all of these years, I just
didn't know it. I began to think about her at night,
her pale, wide thighs, her ample ass, her small
breasts which I knew I could almost get my whole mouth
around. I stopped dating other women and became
solely focused on my mother. Thanksgiving was just a
month away and I thought about how I would seduce her
every night as I stroked myself to sleep.
COMING HOME
I arrived home-my mother's house where I grew up-on
the Wednesday night before Thanksgiving.
Unfortunately, my sisters and their families had
arrived before me, so as I walked through the door, I
was inundated with hugs from nieces and nephews, all
of them shouting, "Uncle Alex, Uncle Alex!" until
their respective pulled them from me. I
greeted both of my sisters and their husbands warmly
before noticing the absence of my mother.
"Where's Mom?" I asked my sister.
"In the kitchen getting food ready for tomorrow," she
said. "You should go in and see her, she'll be so
happy you're here."
I walked through the living and dining rooms and
peered into the kitchen, just as my had bent
over to pull something out of the refrigerator. She
was wearing sweat pants and a T-shirt, her customary
loungewear over the past few years. Her sweat pants
fit like a glove on her thighs and round, bubbly
butt. I was tempted to rip them down her body right
then and take her from behind. This was the dichotomy
of my mind at that moment: wanting to make nice, sweet
love to my mother, but also wanting to passionately
and hardly penetrate every last one of her orifices.
Finally finishing in the refrigerator, my stood
up and noticed me in the doorway.
"Oh, honey, come here," she said, but fortunately, due
to the tent pole that had developed in my pants which
I was trying to conceal by slightly bending over, she
came to me first. We embraced tightly for a minute,
my erection pressing into her stomach. She had to
notice, but didn't say anything. I lowered my head
and slightly sniffed her red, but graying, hair. It
smelled of the lilac-scented shampoo she had used for
as long as I could remember-it was heaven. Still
holding each other by the arms, we drew apart and
looked at each other. A huge smile filled nearly all
of her freckled face, which I then held as I moved my
lips towards hers. Though I tried not to make the
kiss any longer than our usual greetings, it had much
more significance to me since the realization I wanted
to bed my mother. She tasted so good to me-like,
well, home-cooking-as I let my lips suck just a little
bit around her lower lip before I relented to my
better judgment and moved away from her face.
Starting to tear up a bit, she said: "It's so nice to
have you here with your sisters. I know it has only
been a few months since I saw you, but it always seems
like so much longer. How long can you stay?"
As long as it takes to screw the rest of the out
of your hair, I was thinking, but instead said: "My
schedule's somewhat flexible through the weekend."
The rest of the evening was relatively uneventful,
sexually speaking. My spent most of the time
with my nieces and nephews, doting on them, as my
sisters and their husbands and I caught up with each
other since the last time we had spoken. As I talked
with them, I kept an eye on my as she bent down
to play with my nephew or got on all fours to chase my
nieces around. Trying to keep my mind focused on the
conversations, I was also struggling with trying not
to shoot a huge load of in my own pants while
watching my and thinking about what I wanted to do
with her.
The evening, alas, came to a close and the adults all
went upstairs to our respective rooms while the
children slept on the floor in the living room. If it
had not been for the presence of the rest of my
in the house, I may have become adventurous and
attempted my seduction that night, but, not knowing
the results of an attempt, I played it safe and just
jerked off in my bed that night, thinking about my
mother. The irony of doing the same fifteen years ago
while thinking about my friends' mothers did not
escape me.
THANKSGIVING
I awoke early the next morning. I thought I heard
some racket coming from the kitchen downstairs.
Putting on a robe to cover up my only-boxers-clad-
body, I opened the door to my room and crept down the
stairs. Being careful not to wake my nieces and
nephews on the floor of the living room, whose sleep
appeared to be uninhibited from the noise in the
kitchen, I followed the noise through the dining room
and found my mother, in her nightgown, furthering
preparations for our Thanksgiving dinner.
Again she didn't notice my presence at first, so I got
to ogle her short, stout body as she bent over and
reached and bent over again before she turned around
to greet me.
"I hope I didn't wake you up," she said in a hushed
tone.
"No," I lied, "not at all. Can I help with anything
in here?"
"I think I got it under control," she replied, "but
you can keep me company if you want."
"Of course," I said, taking a seat on a stool by the
breakfast bar. We talked, steadily but quietly, as
she prepared our dinner, myself adding the term
"stuffing the turkey" to my sexual euphemisms list.
We talked about all things, about her activities,
about mine. She was especially interested in my
dating life. Wanting to be completely honest, I told
her about all of the I had been seeing recently.
"The problem is, Mom," I said, "none of them hold a
candle to you."
She blushed as she continued to prepare the stuffing.
"That's sweet, Alex," she replied, then said nothing
more.
Not wanting to press my luck too much, we moved on to
different areas of conversation, all the while I was
thinking about walking over to her, crawling under her
nightgown and smothering my face into her fat, juicy
snatch-the place from where I exited to the outside
world. Letting my imagination fill my cock with blood
again, it was quickly diminished with the appearance
of two of my nieces greeting my and I in the
kitchen. My dropped what she was doing and ran to
hug them immediately. The love this woman exuded made
me want her even more.
Thanksgiving dinner tasted wonderful, of course, as we
all gorged ourselves with the food. The conversation
between all of us, though, was getting redundant-there
really is only so much people can talk about. My
sisters even began throwing a few sharp comments back
and forth at each other, a sign that maybe our
was about to part ways again. I was actually quite
happy about this turn of events as I knew I would have
my to myself much sooner. And, so it was,
towards the end of the afternoon, each of my sisters,
though parting with love and kindness, decided to
leave with their families and head home. My
was sad, especially to see her grandchildren leave,
but she was somewhat consoled by me saying I would
stay until at least tomorrow. The tearful goodbyes
were said and my and I were now alone.
After they left, my mother, who had been wearing jeans
and a blouse for the day, casually un-tucked her
blouse from her jeans and let out a loud sigh.
"Are you as tired as I am?" she asked me.
"I am," I said, "Why don't I help you with cleaning
the mess in the dining room and kitchen?"
"It can wait for a bit," she said, "let's just relax
for a little while before we tackle that."
Joining her as she sat down on the couch, sinking way
back, her ass almost off the cushions completely, I
sat closer to her than I normally would have. As I
did, she unbuttoned her pants and let out another
sigh, signaling her clothes were a bit tight for her
at the moment, after eating all day. I desperately
wanted to ease into this more than I was going to,
wanting to wait a little longer after my sisters left,
but I couldn't resist anymore. I was going to make my
first move.
"Mom," I said, scooting closer to her, my arm resting
on the top of the couch, "you know I really meant it
when I said none of the I've been dating could
hold a candle to you."
"Thank you," she said, her eyes closed, arms resting
to each side of her body.
Continuing, I said: "I don't think I could ever love
any of them as much as I do you."
She opened her eyes and looked into my own. I placed
my hand on her lap and slowly began to unzip her
pants, all the while looking into her eyes. At first
I thought it was going to be an easy conquest but
then, suddenly, I saw fear in her eyes and she grabbed
my hand and pushed it away from her.
"What were you thinking, Alex?" she said, each word
louder than the previous one. She stood up. "I am
your mother," she said, "that is absolutely wrong to
even think about!"
The anger in her voice caught me way off guard; it was
something I hadn't heard is years. The only thing
could sputter out was, "Sorry."
"Did you want to have sex with me?" she asked. "Is
that what you wanted?"
"I love you, Mom," I pleaded, "I can't even look at
you anymore without thinking about entering your body,
feeling your juices. I want you. I want you. I want
you." I was hoping the mantra-like statement at the
end would have some effect on her.
"That is absolutely wrong, Alex," she yelled,
"Absolutely wrong. Do you have any idea what the
ramifications of something like that could be, never
mind the moral issues. It could destroy our family.
You might decide that after we did it, you couldn't
stand to look at me. Or vice versa. What if your
sisters found out? All of this besides the fact it's
just plain wrong-you're my son."
"None of that would happen, Mom," I tried to reason,
"I love you, you love me, what else is necessary?
Some lovers don't even have that much."
There was a silence in the room for a moment. She was
contemplating what I had said and I thought I may have
won her over, but then she spoke: "Maybe it would be
best if you left early tomorrow morning. Maybe if we
don't see each other for a while we can forget some of
this. If not, for the sake of your sisters and their
families, we'll just have to pretend it didn't happen.
At the moment, though, I'm too angry to foresee that
time. I'm going to go clean up in the kitchen, why
don't you go to your room."
She was heading towards the kitchen when she turned
around and said, half scornful-half amused, "I can't
believe you're almost 30 and I have to tell you to go
to your room."
Nevertheless, after collecting my thoughts a bit, I
did go to my room, flopping myself down onto my bed.
I wasn't sure what bothered me more: that my
turned me down or that my was angry. I realized
that the seduction of your was something you
just can't really practice. As many times as I had
run through the scene in my head previously, it never
turned out as horribly as it had in reality.
I ran through everything that had happened over and
over again in my head. For two or three hours I
replayed the scene. Sometime around 7:30 or 8:00, I
must have fallen asleep.
THEN...
I wasn't immediately sure if it was a dream or not.
My eyes felt partially crusted shut, perhaps from a
few tears I had shed before falling asleep. I thought
I heard something or somebody in the room, but I
didn't open my eyes. I felt something else on the
bed. Then I felt my pants being unbuttoned and
unzipped before being pulled off of my legs-then my
underwear. Then I felt somebody crawl onto my body,
pulling my off of me. I wanted it so badly to
be my mother, but I didn't dare open my eyes for fear
of it being a dream-or somebody else. As my was
being pulled off, I felt the warmth of emanating
next to my rigid cock. The smell of in the room
was unmistakable.
After being completely disrobed, I felt my new lover
push herself up above me. Then, grasping my cock, she
lowered herself onto me, guiding my erection into her
pussy. Taking me in all at once, she moaned loudly.
There was no immediate movement. My cock was totally
engulfed by snatch-a wet, gripping snatch. I enjoyed
the sensation, breathing heavily, trying to calm
myself. I had to be sure it wasn't just a dream. I
opened my eyes: My mother, tears staining her
freckled cheeks, looked straight into my eyes.
I quickly took in the scene. The room was darkened by
night, but the moonlight seemed to be shining directly
on my and I on the bed. She was sitting on me,
her thick, creamy thighs on either side of my own.
Her wiry bush was brushing against my own pubic
hair. She had just a slight paunch leading up to her
tiny tits, about the size of oranges, but sagging
slightly. I immediately wished I had a view of her
round, pale ass, but I had to be patient and enjoy
what I was getting at that moment. She continued to
look at my face.
"Do you still love me?" she asked tearfully.
"Of course I do," I replied, pulling her to me as her
cunt remained gripping my cock. I kissed her face and
neck all over, eventually slipping my tongue into her
mouth, which she greeted with a suck. All the while,
she was crying; I, myself, tasting the salt from her
tears as I kissed and licked.
"It's okay, Mom," I said, "It's okay." She began to
cry more but at the same time she started to ride my
cock a bit, moving up and down in rhythm with her
sobs. I held her face out above me and looked at her
carefully, she picking up the rhythm on my cock even
more. She smiled at me and I knew then that they were
tears of joy. This got me hot and I began to try to
match her rhythm with my own thrusts. ceased
crying and began moaning a bit more.
Continuing our fucking, we switched positions a bit,
as I sat up more in bed and she wrapped her legs
around me. This gave me better access to her tits,
which, until now, I had neglected. As leaned
back, pushing herself into me, I leaned forward and
placed my wide open mouth around one of her breasts,
suckling hard and loud on her tit. Doing this made
Mom buck harder and harder and I could tell she was
about to come. Fortunately, I was ready, too.
She became louder and louder, riding me faster and
faster, until I felt even more hot juices fill around
my cock. This caused me to spasm and I began to shoot
wad after wad deep into my own mother. Looking down
at where I had entered her, I saw our mixed juices
flowing out of her and onto the base of my cock
and balls, drenching both of our now matted-pubes. We
held onto each other for several minutes, kissing and
catching our breaths. My cock had regained some of
its hardness, but fell off of me and onto the bed.
I fell next to her and held her close to me, running
my hands over her entire backside, caressing her
gently. She felt my hard cock poking at her stomach
and reached between us to grab it.
Mom slowly started to jerk me off, her fingers
exploring every inch of my cock. Still caressing her
backside, I kneaded her two big ass cheeks with my
hands. Feeling adventurous, I inched my index finger
ever so closer to her asscrack. Then, I slowly eased
my finger into her bunghole, which was greeted with a
quick moan. As she continued to jerk me off, I
fingered her asshole, feeling her sphincter trying to
milk my finger. When she picked up the pace on my
cock, I picked up the pace with my finger. Soon we
were both moaning again, ready to come. As she
clenched down hard on my finger with her sphincter, I
began to squirt all over the both of us, landing
on each of our stomachs. Her asshole released
my finger and we fell asleep holding each other,
almost stuck to each other with my drying
connecting us.
THE MORNING AFTER
I awoke alone yet sure that what happened the night
before was not a dream. Flakes of my own semen coated
my abdomen. My dick was a little sore, but hard. I
heard the familiar sound of cupboards shutting and
pans knocking against each other come from the
kitchen. Not bothering to put any clothes on, I
walked downstairs, my erection wagging in front of me
every step of the way.
As before, my first sight of my was her
slightly bent over the kitchen counter. Unlike me,
she had taken the time to put on clothes, wearing her
glove-tight sweat pants and T-shirt. I watched her
carefully as she appeared to be mixing something up in
a large bowl. Focused on her plump ass, it appeared
as though she wasn't wearing any panties, her camel's
toe quite apparent.
Quietly as possible, I snuck up behind her, my cock
leading the way. As I neared her body, she still
hadn't heard my movement over the noises of her
quickly mixing the contents of the bowl. Without any
warning, I quickly yanked her sweat pants down to her
knees and entered her in nearly one motion. She
let out a blood-curdling scream, partly out of fear, I
think, but also because of the lack of lubrication as
I thrust into her-a miscalculation on my part. The
mix in the bowl spilled all over her front side and
onto the floor.
Fortunately I didn't start pounding into her
recklessly. Still fully inside her, she looked back
over her shoulder, confirming that the person who had
penetrated her was indeed her son. Regaining her
composure, but still clearly in discomfort, she began
to move her ass a bit, wriggling my cock around inside
of her.
"Alex, you have to be careful," she scolded me, "I'm
not some co-ed who's sopping wet all the time-though
having you inside me helps-and you nearly gave me a
heart attack."
I started thrusting in her ever so slightly as her
lovely began to moisten. Bracing herself against
the kitchen counter with her arms, she began grunt as
I sped up my tempo. Leaning against her, I reached
under her T-shirt and found her breasts. Fitting
nicely into each of my hands, I squeezed them hard,
making my moan harder. Giving me a non-verbal
clue, she reached behind her head with one of her
hands and pulled her hair back, revealing her bare
neck. I quickly began kissing and on the back
of her neck and her ears, which she seemed to enjoy as
much as anything.
Having expended a couple of of semen the night
before, I could have held out for a long time if I had
chosen to do so. However, taking my own from
behind like this-in the kitchen-was too much for me.
I wanted to shoot my wad badly, so I began pounding
her so hard, my dick nearly leaving her each
time I pulled back. I pounded away on her for a
couple of more minutes, each thrust producing a little
scream in my that may have been induced as much
by pain as it was pleasure. I couldn't help myself,
though. What was nice, relatively sweet, lovemaking
the night before, was replaced by pure lust this
morning. Finally, I came, once again filling her
milking tunnel with my cum.
Both catching our breaths, my weight almost entirely
on my mother, my cock quickly shrunk and as she
straightened her body a bit, it plopped out of her now
gaping hole. I collapsed on the floor.
"Alex, honey," my said, "that was a fucking."
She smiled at me lovingly and I returned a smile.
draining from her hole, she slipped out of her sweat
pants, though she kept her T-shirt on. Seeing my
naked body lying on the floor, wilting cock and all,
she joined me, on all fours, and bowed her head down
to my cock, taking it into her mouth.
"One more time before breakfast," she mumbled, her
mouth full with dick.
THE ENDING (OR JUST THE BEGINNING?)
My and I spent the majority of the rest of the
weekend making love. It truly was love. We were
completely comfortable with each other so there was no
bullshit. A few times we made long, slow love,
holding each other while sharing each other's sexual
fluids over hours at a time. On other occasions, we
fucked hard, banging each other to the point of
exhaustion. The exciting part of all of this was that
we both wanted the same thing at the same time.
As Sunday neared its end, it was a sad realization
that I was going to have to leave to go home-Mom would
be alone once more. As we were saying our goodbyes, I
had a marvelous epiphany.
"Listen, Mom," I said, "You're away from home so much
anyway, taking care of the grandkids, why don't you
just get rid of the house here and stay with me when
you're not with them. You're only here half the year
anyway. What do you think?"
"Are you serious?" she asked, tears starting to flow
from her eyes.
"Of course I am," I said, "Move in with me. Nobody
will think anything of it. We'll just say it's best
for both of us economically for the time being."
Hugging me close to her, she answered, "Thank you."
While final details have not been worked out
completely, our tentative plans are to have her move
into my house. My sisters think it's a little strange
I would want her to live with me, but ultimately
they're also thankful she's won't be alone. As for
myself, it was not an act of pity on my part. I truly
want her to live with me. She's my mother, but now,
more importantly, she my lover.
...The End
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