She’s 42, my mother is.
It’s interesting, you don’t think about it much, until you realize it, until you realize that your mother is beautiful.
Oh, sure, we all think my mom is a beautiful woman, but we don’t really mean it, not until we actually think about it. Then you may realize, she’s not only a beautiful woman but a very beautiful woman and perhaps even your exact type.
I realized this a year ago.
Man, how things can change in just one year. Last year I felt like a different person. I guess, in a way, I was.
It was a day like every other. I was alone and I was horny. I was at home, in the house I had shared with my mother.
I could move out if I really wanted to but I guess the truth is that I don’t so much mind living with my mother. Especially not now.
Especially not after this day.
It was a rainy October day, the rain fell softly on the windows and dripped like tears down the glass.
Mom was at work and I was listening to music, watching YouTube, playing video games and trying to keep myself occupied.
It was one of those days when you just feel bored, everything is dull like a flattened knife.
I knew why this was so.
A word came to mind. Horny.
Very horny.
Once I started thinking about tits, about ass and pussy, i couldn’t stop. Once it starts, it’s there. Lingering in your mind as a pink cloud of lust.
I just sat there and rolled my pants down to my ankles. I began touching myself.
As I thought more and more, the harder I became, my skin sliding over my raging member as it began to leak its stickiness over the head.
I searched and searched for a dirty thought to suffice before grabbing my phone and looking up porn.
One thing you realize is just how much incest porn there is and how popular it is.
Stepdads, stepmoms, sisters, brothers and so on.
I think it was at that very moment, right then and there that I first thought it.
Was my mom hot?
Well, she had smaller breasts, a large, wiggly, jiggling gelatinous ass.
Large tender thighs above slim shapely feet with toenails always painted dark blue like the night sky, same with her fingernails.
Her hair was brown and fell over her breasts in flowing curls like currents of a river.
I often wondered who she reminded me of. Maybe she’s sort of like a shapely, a little older, brown-haired Lana Del Rey.
I started to think about her.
The way my mom looked when she was wearing yoga pants and bent over the oven or the laundry machine.
Or how she looked when we were at the beach and her skin shined like a diamond in the sun and how you could see her ass cheeks flapping over her bikini, enveloping it between her crack.
Oddly enough, I stayed hard. Not only did I stay hard but I dripped pre cum at the thought.
It was dirty. So dirty to think about. Maybe that’s why I liked it. It was dirty.
My stomach trembled nervously.
I couldn’t deny it.
I wanted her. I really did.
I could hardly admit it to myself but I did.
Perhaps it was just because I was horny but I couldn’t shake the thought of her silky nipples, her pink lips, her gorgeous ass.
I couldn’t, I couldn’t think that way. But I was, oh how I most certainly was.
I thought of something else then.
I had heard stories about men who enjoyed smelling their wives’ and girlfriends’ panties.
That’s when I had my most absurd thought yet.
What if I went through her dirty laundry and smelled a pair of her underwear?
No, no. That’s horrible. I mean, imagine that, not only smelling someone’s underwear with their sweat and god knows what else all on it, but your own mothers! How terrible.
Well, maybe just a peak, maybe if I looked at it and saw her stains I would be turned off and just forget the whole thing and just jack it to some vanilla porn.
No, still that’s wrong.
Or is it? I mean there’s nothing wrong with just looking at them. You can’t feel bad for merely looking at someone’s underwear.
Ok, ok, I figured. I’ll just do that. That’s all. No big deal.
I pulled up my pants and exited my room and went down the hall.
I could hear the sound of raindrops on the roof and cars sliding by on the wet road.
I got to my mother’s room and slid the door open. My hands trembled nervously and my throat felt dry.
The door opened to an empty, dark room.
The floral wallpaper, the white bedsheets, the lace curtains, all looked back at me, lonesomely like the squawk of a single crow in an empty field, echoing sadly.
Below the window was a small square box, her dirty laundry basket.
That’s where they would be, go figure.
I neared the basket until I loomed over it.
It was too dark so I flicked on the light and resumed. Now I could see. The light breathed life into the clothes.
It was all just pyjamas, T-Shirts and jeans.
I scrambled around a bit and finally, I found it.
Pale blue lace panties.
Butterflies flew majestically in my belly.
Just a peek.
I lifted them up and studied them. So feminine, so pretty. I opened them up and looked at the crotch. A sort of off-white stain marked the inside, right where her pussy would’ve been
My dick twitched and throbbed, burning like a summer sunset.
I had to do it.
I brought them close to my face and felt the soft fabric around my nose.
Then I inhaled. The sweet womanly odours filled my nostrils as I instinctively moaned as my dick throbbed and leaked.
My body was jittering and nervous.
I Inhaled again and again and just loved it.
It was so kinky, so naughty.
My hand crawled down between my legs and I began touching myself as I inhaled and moaned. I closed my eyes and in the darkness, I saw my mother, her wet, dripping pussy, its lips spread like wings, it’s Pink entry calling me forward, her sweet juices leaking out, sliding down her leg.
What horrible thoughts to have about my mother.
I just couldn’t help it.
They just were there like beings of their own.
After smelling the crotch for a while I smelled further down where her ass would be.
I placed my nose over the fabric and inhaled while continuing to stroke my dick.
The smell was different, more musky but still pleasant in its own way.
My head lulled back in euphoria.
I continued stroking and leaned against the wall panting heavily and switching from smelling crotch to ass occasionally.
Finally, as I breathed heavily I blew my load all over my hand.
The scent of my mother’s pussy and ass while I came aggressively was pure heaven, albeit in a perverted way.
It was afterwards, though, that the guilt came.
After I placed the panties back into the basket, covered them with clothes and went back to my room, I felt wrong, I felt off.
The video games I was playing felt different, the music I was listening to felt different.
I, myself felt different.
It wasn’t such a good feeling but as the day progressed it wore off.
We tend to forget these things, we forget the feeling of primal arousal when in the moment and we forget the feeling of disappointed guilt afterwards.
Eventually, I forgot both and all was left was the distant memory of the scent of my mother, withering away slowly like the leaves in the autumn.
As the months progressed I did it a few more times.
It was always the same, she was at work, I was horny, I snuck into her room and found a dirty pair of her panties and smelled them while touching myself.
What was different, though, was sometimes they would be creamier and smell a little more sweet, a little more sour and sometimes a little more bitter. All the scents were welcomed by me.
Every time I regretted it afterwards but nonetheless always went back for more.
one time, the best time, she rushed home from work, squirming and moaning. She had to pee, really bad and rushed to the bathroom.
Later that evening when she was out with a few of her friends I snuck in and grabbed those pair. They were wet, really wet. And smelled like pure piss.
I smelled it first and stroked myself fast and griped tighter than ever.
I then did something I never had the courage to do, I licked them, her piss touched my tongue and then I just snapped and had to go the whole way.
I shoved them in my mouth and sucked them dry.
Sucking all the piss right from them as I came harder than ever.
It was so explosive my legs almost went out from under me.
Of course, as always I felt remorseful afterwards, but what was odd was that the remorse wasn’t as strong as it had been previously.
You’d think I’d feel horrible with myself; I literally drank my mother’s piss.
But it was more just a common, “Eh, I guess I’m just a freak” and nothing more.
I couldn’t figure out why I felt that way, why I didn’t feel as bad as I thought I would, whereas other times I felt way worse.
I guess these feelings are sometimes random and most of all, hard to suppress.
One time, during an evening in the springtime, she and I were sitting at the dining room table. Both on our phones.
Occasionally she would laugh and show me a meme and I would feign laughter and continue my scrolling.
She looked beautiful that night. She was in black leggings and a black shirt that fit her tightly.
By this point, I had accepted that my mother was beautiful but that was it. Beautiful. Not hot. Not sexy. Just beautiful in an objective way.
Randomly, I saw her nose scrunch up and her left eye closed. Then I heard a small “poof!” From under her.
She farted.
I never expected it, but it turned me on.
“Oops!” She said cheerfully and giggled.
My cock twitched in my pants as a chill ran through me.
She let out another, muffled by the chair and said, “Oh, that was a good one!”
She continued to let out more, all muffled by her chair.
I sat there feeling more and more horny, just wanting to hurry off and masturbate.
After letting another out she got and went to the bathroom.
I had an idea.
I got up and went over to her chair, lowered my head and smelled.
My cock raged in my pants.
My smell was not overly strong, it was poignant enough to be unmistakably a fart but not strong enough to smell like pure shit.
If she went to the bathroom right after, you’d think they’d be stronger but they were only mild. Gentle little toots.
Maybe she just went to pee.
For some reason, the mental image of her doing either turned me on.
I smelled some more and listened for the bathroom door to make sure she wasn’t coming back as I touched my cock and begin stroking it while smelling her farts.
It was sublime, kinky because I was being so sneaky.
I heard the door to the bathroom open.
She was rather quick. Maybe it was just a pee?
I got up, tucked my dick into my waistband and excused myself to my bedroom.
I finished myself off in there.
Afterwards, I felt shame but the same as usual. Not extreme, but still present and, like always it went away after a while.
Still, there was a bit of denial creeping back into me.
It wasn’t really my mother I was turned on by, it was just that I was horny, lonely and she was a woman. That’s all.
No big deal.
So from then, whenever i smelled her underwear, I just imagined it was some other girl, some model, some actress, someone.
It was a while after this that I began having vivid dreams of her.
There was this one dream where I was on the beach, some tropical beach someplace.
I was all alone lying on a towel as birds flew overhead. Then, all of a sudden, a shadow began to materialize on the sand. A shapely one, that of a woman.
I turned around and it was my mother.
She was standing there completely naked.
Her nipples glistened and shined in the sun.
A patch of brown hair grew over her pussy.
She looked down at me with a hand on her hip. “Like what you see?” She asked before turning around, showing me her nice plump ass and then she bent over. Showing me her lips spread like a butterfly and her tight asshole winking at me.
She backing up on to me and lowered her ass to my face.
My lips landed on her pussy, lips to lips, they were soft, so velvety, so wet.
She smooshed her pussy on my lips and gyrated her hips, rubbing her pussy on my mouth. I opened up and tasted her delicious pussy. I inserted my tongue into it and felt her cozy warmth.
She moaned and moaned as I pushed my tongue deeper into her wet, tight, velvet pussy and just as her moans hit their climax I woke up to birds chirping outside my window in the morning air, the sun shining through the window.
I was covered in sweat, it was almost like I was really there on that hot beach under that hot pussy. It was like I could still taste it.
I told myself I shouldn’t be having dreams like that, they are no good, I should be having dreams about other girls, girls I’m not related to, girls who aren’t my mother.
Still, more dreams came.
In one dream, she and I were in a bubble bath in some bathtub in some hotel. Her breasts were hidden by the bubbles.
I can feel her legs on mine, her feet on my stomach. She giggled and splashed at me as she drank from a bottle of scotch.
She comes in close and tells me to open up and spits the scotch into my mouth and I swallow it. She does it again.
Then from on the counter, she grabs a chocolate out of a box of chocolates and chews it then spits it into my mouth.
As I swallow it, she says “Thomas, I’m your mother, and I love you”
I wake up and again it’s morning with the birds chirping, every time.
Just a dream, I’d tell myself.
That dream changed quite often.
Sometimes we’d be drinking wine, sometimes beer, sometimes we’d be eating chocolates, gummy bears and sometimes even fruit.
She would chew up chocolate and put it on the end of her tongue and say, “Come get it”
I’d happily suck it off.
Sometimes she would sneakily put her hands under the water and touch me gently.
Soft and gentle, a mother’s touch.
Other times I would insert my fingers into her tight pussy or her tight asshole. She would close her eyes and moan.
One thing that stayed the same was that at the end of every dream she would come in so close I could feel her breath on my face and she’d say “Thomas, I’m your mother and I love you”
And I’d always wake up and say, “No, no, you’re just a dream.”
Just a dream.
Just a dream.
Also, around this time I began actually stealing her panties. I kept them under my pillow and sniffed them every night before I fell asleep.
I stole this light blue pair, the one I smelled the first time.
I would tell myself, “These aren’t my mothers, they’re someone else’s”
Then I would fall asleep and I would dream.
“Thomas, I’m your mother and I love you”
“Thomas, I’m your mother and I love you”
“I love you…”
“No,” I would say when I woke up, “You’re just a dream”
I still kept her panties, my dirty little secret, under my pillow.
I noticed her body all the time now, every time she bent over I would catch a glimpse.
Every time she stood up I would smell her seat.
Additionally, her dialogue at the end of my dream changed a little.
“Thomas, I’m your mother and I love you. And you, love me too”
“No,” I would say, “You’re just a dream”
Eventually, I started to give in.
I would feel her lips on mine in the dream, her breath hitting my face, her smooth skin on mine.
“Ok, maybe you’re more than a dream, but I can’t have you for real. It’s just make-believe.”
Her dialogue in the dream continued to change and or extend.
“You want me. You want me for real. You want your mother”
“No,” I’d tell myself in the morning or as I smelled her panties, “it’s all just fantasy, really, nothing serious”
But one night I woke up from the dream sweating and horny,
“I’m your mother and I love you”
I grabbed the panties from below my pillow and smelled them.
“I’m your mother and I love you”
I stroked myself off, breathing heavily, my eyes rolling to the back of my head.
“I’m your mother and I love you”
“Oh god,” I thought
“And you love me too”
I broke. I gave in. I surrendered.
“I love you too. I love you.”
I stroked faster, dripping with sweat, smelling her panties.
“And you love me too”
I huffed and puffed and imagined eating her delicious pussy, her delicious ass
“I love you, Mom”
I imagined her pissing all over my body, her golden juice showering me.
“I love you”
I imagined shoving my tongue deep, and deep into her asshole”
“I really, really, love you, Mother”
I got close, I was about to cum, I was practically there.
“Ok, ok! I love you! I love you. Mom. mother. I love you. I do, I, I admit, I, I, l-love you, I g-give I-in, I give in…I, I, I surrender