A Mom , Son–Thoughts , Reflections

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Tem 7, 2022 // By:analsex // No Comment

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Introduction–All of my previous submissions on Literotica have been fiction with threads of reality woven in. This submission is not. It is a mix of reminiscences and observations. I am at a stage in my life where I can now reveal more about myself, my emotions, and my real life experiences. I hope that you can appreciate these musings for what they are. They are me, they are a part of my story, and a very important part of my life.


How many men have wanted to fuck their mothers? A related question then is how many men have actually fucked their mothers? I continue to wonder just how common mother-son incest really is in our time; and even in any time? How many mothers and sons reach a point in their relationships where sexual intimacy is nothing more than a quasi-realistic fantasy, or it takes the next large step and actually becomes a reality? Do all, or even most, mothers and sons struggle, on some level from time to time, with sexual feelings for one another? If you’re reading this, as a mother or son, then I surmise that these questions have at least entered your mind, and that you may think about this topic periodically.

So, then let us move in a bit closer to home. Do young adult men who grow up in a home with a mother–a more mature woman–do they begin to look at her with sexual longing, sexual desire? Are these feelings some deep-seated part of our primal ancestral biology, or is it more akin to some innate part of human psychology? Also, I’m not all that sure that an incestuous sexual desire, on the part of the son for his mother, is completely related to her physical appearance and looks compared to some “ideal female.” I think it doesn’t matter, if the sexual desire is there, and that young man is sexually attracted to his more mature female mother; does it really make a difference that she might be considered homely by another person, or that others consider her to be “drop-dead gorgeous”?

I wish that I could honestly get my arms (and brain) wrapped around just how real the concept of consenting-adult mother-son incest is in our human life experience. How real is it? Is it truly aberrant behavior? Is it really all that taboo? Or, is it a life experience that does occur among consenting adults, on a world-wide basis in all cultures, and is therefore really more part of the overall human sexual experience? Let’s face it, over the course of recorded history there have been accounts of mother-son incest, with one of the earliest probably being Sophocles’ “Oedipus Rex.” More recently, in the 20th century, there has been an industry built up associated with incest pornography, both written and film. Of course now with the easy access to the internet, there is an ocean full of mother-son incest media like Literotica’s stories, specific chat-rooms and groups, videos, role-playing sites, and so forth.

For me personally, I think the watershed moment was a weekend pass that I had while in Coast Guard boot-camp in Alameda, California, in the early 1970s. A buddy and I went into San Francisco in our dress blues and had some beers and then ended up in an adult theater. We sat down and the movie started and, yes, you guessed it, it was Kay Parker in the classic mother-son incest movie, “Taboo.” I was simply gobsmacked and watched in awe as my greatest fantasy played out in front of me. Up until that seminal moment (pun intended!), I had no real idea that others shared the fantasy of a son fucking his mother! Seeing that movie was the first formal step on my road towards becoming a long-time motherfucker, a man who regularly made love to his mother.

Consequently, as well as based upon my own experiences, I’m of the mind that sexual relationships between mothers and sons is probably much more common than imagined. My point with this posting is to explore this assumption and bolster it with the experiences from my own life.


I think another aspect of incestuous sexual relations between a mother and her son–both being consenting adults, of course–is the incredibly taboo nature that society places upon its practice. In other words, part of the attraction and feelings of intense sexual desire or lust that mothers and sons experience when engaging in sexual relations is because its considered so forbidden. I mean think about it, what can be more sexually unique than the experience of a son slowly sinking his erect, bare cock back into the warm, wet cunt that gave birth to him all those years earlier? The naked son, between his naked mother’s thighs, fucks her passionately and then as he orgasms he realizes with each pulse of his ejaculation that he is depositing his sperm and semen deep into the pussy and womb that actually carried him to term and gave birth to him. The mother, on the other hand, realizes that the son she gave birth to as an infant, is now an adult male and that she is now is taking her son’s hard cock back inside of her and as he cums she feels his hot sperm jetting into her belly. To me, there is something so incredibly pure, loving and even almost transcendent about lordbahis güvenilirmi this kind of sexual intimacy. It is the recognition of these truths that has made my incestuous sexual relationship with my own mother the absolutely most powerful sexual experience of my entire life. Based upon what I have read and seen, I think there are a lot of mothers and sons that feel exactly as my mom and I did.

Even at the age of 18 and 19, when home on brief leaves from the Coast Guard, I had this almost uncontrollable urge to masturbate myself to orgasm whenever I encountered my mother’s panties in the laundry hamper, or when she hung her stockings, garters, bras and girdles on the drying rack in the basement of our house. While, at that age, I did fantasize sexually about other women, most of them tended to be women around my mother’s age, mothers of my friends, teachers I had had in school, and so forth. But it was my mom that truly dominated my sexual fantasies and jack-off sessions.

Not that my family were nudists and ran around the house naked, but after I started coming home on leave from the service it did seem like I did manage to see my mother more often in various stages of dress and undress. From that point forward and until she retired she was working as an administrative assistant for a small real estate brokerage, and always wore dresses, stockings and heeled shoes. She typically changed into capris and a comfortable blouse and flats when she’d get home from work, and it was not particularly uncommon for me to see her in her bedroom in a bra and panties as she changed; or sitting on the edge of the bed carefully rolling her stockings down her curvy legs.

My mom was probably not what everyone would call a beautiful woman, she was to me, of course, but having said that she was striking to look at. Somewhat tall, maybe 5’9″ in her stockings, dark brown hair, long face with what my dad had always called a “Roman nose.” She had a sexy ass that always looked good in her skirts or slacks that she wore. My mom did not have huge boobs, in fact they were kind of droopy, what most would classify these days as “saggy.” What she did have though were big, long, dark brown nipples. Her nipples drove me nuts! Even to this day it gives me a powerful hard-on to just sit back for a moment and think about my mother’s sexy rubbery nipples.

My mom was always a pretty classy lady. She was from a good upper-class New England family, had attended all the good schools, and had even gone to a private women’s college in Minnesota. She had her hair and nails done weekly. She liked to wear hats with her outfits and I’d always kind of teased her that she looked a little like Jackie Kennedy in the early-1960s, which, deep down, I think she kind of liked.

My mom loved to take baths, and after dinner she’d usually take her glass of wine upstairs and light her candle in the bathroom and luxuriate in the bathtub for an hour or so every other night. As there was only one bathroom in our house at the time, I can remember having to knock and asking if I could come in and pee. She’d pull the bath curtain partially around her tub and then let me know it was okay to come in. I can vividly remember the number of times that I’d surreptitiously peek into the mirror and I could see her reclining against the back of the tub, mostly submerged in her bubbles, but more times than not I’d get a good look at those beautiful tits and nipples of hers. And as a young male of 19 or 20, it was ‘di rigueur’ that I’d immediately head for my room and jerk-off a good orgasm to the vision I’d had of her boobs.

After her bath she’d usually put on her nightgown and bathrobe and join me in the den with her book and wine while we watched some silly show on the old black and white TV. She’d curl up on the loveseat across from me and read. I can remember many times she’d shift around some, and I’d get a glimpse of her long, sleek legs and white thighs. Every once in a while I’d get really lucky and I’d catch a fleeting glimpse of her hairy crotch as she crossed or uncrossed her legs on the hassock. By now I’d figured out that my mom was naked under nightgown and bathrobe and never wore panties. I can assure you that from about the age of 19 on, I had a perpetual hardon when I was in the same room with her and she was in her nightclothes in the evening. Just knowing that my mother was nude under her robe and nightgown was just a huge turn-on for me.

It is also worth sharing with you that as much as I kind of watched my mom–maybe ‘perved’ on my mom’ is more accurate–I think she was kind of doing the same with me too. I was an only child, and she’d been an only child, and I think the whole experience of having a young adult male who’d gone through puberty and was becoming a man was something entirely new for her. She’d always been kind of “touchy-feely” with lots of touching, caressing and hugging. When I’d come inside from mowing the lawn, or doing other chores, she’d reach up and caress my sweaty face and smile and lordbahis yeni giriş tell me to go clean up while she made me some iced tea. Sometimes at night she’d kind of cuddle up next to me on the sofa while I was watching TV and she’d read her book. We always gave each other a kiss on the lips before we went to bed at night. Pretty normal stuff I suppose for many moms and sons. What probably wasn’t normal were the thoughts I continually harbored about taking my mother in my arms, kissing her passionately, and maneuvering her onto the couch on her back and then ravishing her sexually!


I had been out of the U.S. Coast Guard for about three years, was in my mid-20s, and was back living with my mom in our old family home. While I’d been in the service my parents had finally divorced. It was pretty clear that they’d simply fallen out of love with each other and there just wasn’t any reason to stay together any longer. The house was paid off and my dad just gave it to mom. She was still working at the brokerage house and seemed to be getting by just fine. Mom was almost exactly 20 years older than me, so she’d have been in her mid-40s at this time in the early-1980s.

Mom had gotten a little more full-figured over the years since I’d left. Her legs were still long and sleek, and her butt was maybe a little wider but still sexy as hell, and maybe her boobs sagged a bit more too. Her hair was longer and was now an almost even mix of salt-and-pepper.

Mom was really glad to have me back and living with her. I think after she and dad had split up and I was still in the Coast Guard she’d been pretty lonely, and when I’d called and asked if I could come home she was overjoyed. I was pretty excited too, although I sure as hell couldn’t tell her then that the real reason that I was so excited to come home was so that I could start ‘perving’ on her again.


The first time mom and I became sexually intimate was just a few weeks after I’d returned home and moved in with her. As I said, it was just the two of us, and we’d grown pretty comfortable in our ways and habits around the house. One of us did the cooking each night, we both helped clean up and then we’d relax for a couple of hours in the family room. Mom still kept up her every other night bath routine. I usually took a quick shower each night and then lounged around in a t-shirt and shorts. For mom it was still her nightie and robe. It was not uncommon for the two of us to share the couch while we watched TV or we were reading.

I will never forget that night as long as live. It was late-August, and still pretty damn hot outside. The house didn’t have central air, but each room did have ceiling fans and I’d installed some box fans in the windows in the dining room and living room in an effort to push some air through the house. But I’m guessing that it was still mid-80s inside.

We had both bathed and I was on the couch in just a pair of athletic shorts and shirtless, and drinking a gin and tonic. Mom came into the room, and instead of her usual flannel robe, she was wearing a thin, kind of short nylon belted wrap over her nightie. I can still visualize her as she walked in, her curves all kind of jiggling just right and I could see her sexy legs to mid-thigh as she came over and flopped down next to me on the couch.

I made her a gin and tonic too and we sat back and listened to jazz on the radio. She kind of scooted over next to me, we clinked glasses and then she casually put her hand on my chest and began toying with my chest hair. We talked–I couldn’t tell you about what–and her fingers continued combing through my chest hair. She began running her hand and fingers lightly up and down my chest and abdomen. I have to say that I’d damn near stopped breathing at this point as I was so pent up with anticipation. I think I almost shattered my highball glass, I was squeezing it so hard.

Then it happened so fast that I could hardly separate the two events in my mind. She leaned over and kissed me on the mouth, not as my mother, but as a woman kisses her lover. At the very same moment she slid her hand down into my shorts and grasped my hard cock, and then slid her hand down further and clutched my hairy balls and breathily whispered into my ear ten words that are forever and permanently engraved on my heart and soul, “God, forgive me, but I need you…I want you!” And then she turned never letting go of my balls, set her drink down, took mine from my paralyzed hand and set it down too, and then she leaned over and kissed me again, her tongue plunging deep into my mouth.

Not even five minutes later we were both completely nude moaning and writhing on the couch as I kissed and sucked her nipples into my mouth and buried my fingers deep inside my mother’s hairy crotch. One of her hands was running up and down my naked body while the other jacked the shaft of my dick.


There was for me a moment then when time simply stopped, and to this day I can still feel and experience in lordbahis giriş my mind the erotic thrill, and the overwhelming lust that consumed me when I first held my hard cock in my hand and slowly pushed the purple-helmed glans up and down and separated my mother’s hairy labia and rubbed the head of my dick against her clitoris. The sheer physical and psychological feelings associated with the contact of my sexual organ against my mother’s was almost too much to take in. I honestly felt like I was a nano-second from cumming. And truth be told, that very first time that was exactly what happened. I never even entered my mom’s pussy, I exploded and shot my sperm and semen all over her hairy pussy, belly and chest!

Maybe what I am seeking here is an answer to questions that I have always had. Are the experiences that I have had, the feelings that I’ve had, the mind-shattering lust that I have felt while engaging in sex with my mother unique to me, or is this what all mothers and sons in a consensual incestuous relationship experience?

I realize that this entire account may be too clinical or abstract. But like I said at the outset, I am writing this for me, in an effort to get down and capture some of the kaleidoscope of emotions and feelings that I have experienced during the course of my incestuous sexual relationship with my mother. She is no longer here, but my memories are, and they are real. I cannot begin to tell you how much I miss her. Not because of the sex, but just that I simply miss my mother. Maybe that raises another question too. While I certainly recognize that if a mother and son engage in a consensual incestuous sexual relationship it changes, forever, the dynamic of their relationship. There are tradeoffs, power shifts and the like, but the immutable fact remains that mother was still my mom and I was her son, and that never changed over all of the years we maintained our relationship. During that time-span I was married for almost a decade and she had a couple of quasi-steady boyfriends, but we always, always continued to find our special time for one another and our sexual relationship.

I remember lying in bed with her, sweaty and spent after an afternoon of lovemaking, and telling her that I honestly felt like I was truly her husband and that she was my wife. At the time I was in my early-40s and she was in her early-60s. I’ll tell you what, I have probably never uttered a more true statement than that too. I knew then, and I know now, that I have never had–as cliché as it may sound–a woman who was more of a soul mate than my mom. We finished each other’s sentences, we anticipated and satisfied each other’s needs, and we made love to one another with a sense of gentle urgency that was simply unparalleled. As you might expect, as we grew older together we didn’t “fuck like bunnies” every night. In fact, far from it, love-making for mom and I was always somewhat unexpected, never planned, always spontaneous, always erotic, soulful, joyful and exuberant; but it could be a week or more between sexual interludes. All in all, we were pretty damn normal people. We just happened to be a mother and son who had sex with one another. Yeah, I know, that isn’t the definition of “normal,” but it was what it was.


One of the big fears, I think, associated with a mother and son entering into a sexual relationship is the off chance of outside discovery. Let’s face it–if we’re being entirely honest–most sons probably contemplate, at some point, about fucking their mothers. It is back to that old taboo, and what society would think. But it really isn’t ‘society’ that we worry about though, is it? Hell no, it is family and friends. We all know that if it ever came out that a mother and son were having sex, everyone, and I mean everyone, would completely freak-out. Sheesh, in some jurisdictions, maybe many, it is flat-out illegal, even if the incest is consensual between adults.

To my knowledge, there was only one person who was aware of the incest between my mom and me. She was one of my mother’s best friends, and had been most of her life. She had never married and had always stayed in the same little town with mom and me.

I remember vividly on my thirtieth birthday, my mom had given me a great party and invited a lot of my friends and her friends over for dinner. I cooked steaks on the grill and we all hung out by the pool. Finally, in the wee hours of the morning everyone cleared out except for Carole, mom, and me. We cleaned up and sat out on the pool-deck and had a ‘wind-down’ cocktail.

One thing I have to give Carole, she didn’t fuck around. Sure, we were drunk, but she called it right then and there. She firmly queried, “You guys are fucking each other, aren’t you?” Well, I looked at mom, and she looked at me and almost imperceptibly nodded and replied, “Yes, baby, we are…and what does that mean to you?”

Carole nodded her head up and down and said, “I knew it.” We asked her how she “knew it” and she simply replied that it was a myriad of things. We did things like lovers, we touched like lovers, we listened and spoke like lovers. She told us that she was genuinely surprised that everyone in our circle didn’t know about us, but then qualified it with that she probably knew my mom and me better than anyone else, and could pick up on the telltale clues.

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