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A loaded question while beating around the bush and hinting around with all that he imagined sexually doing with her, he thought of all the incestuous things he could do with his mother to make her happy. He thought of all the sexually things he could do with his mother to make himself happy. Yet, with this romantic holiday more about her than about him, he wasn't the sad one, she was. If anything, he was the incestuously horny one. Even if he was to get her drunk, his mother would never do any of those incestuous, sexual things with him.
If he was anything, he was the sexually excited one. If he was anything, he was the perverted one. Yet, maybe this was the year that he'd get her tipsy enough to kiss her in the way he kissed her in his sexual fantasies while masturbating himself and in the way that Susan kissed Charlie in the story. Maybe this is the year that she'd allow him to touch and feel her through her clothes while he French kissed her. Maybe this is the year that she'd return his sexual passion and allow him to have incestuous sex with her.
Only, frustratingly, in the way that he was sexually attracted to his mother, he knew that she wasn't sexually attracted to him. In the way that he knew there was something psychologically wrong with him for incestuously wanting to have sex his mother, he knew there was nothing psychologically wrong with his mother with her not sexually wanting him. She was just sad. She was just lonely and depressed because of his asshole father. He wished there was something he could do to make her smile.
* * * * *
### SusanJillParker -- 08 ###
Robert tries and fails to replicate his mother by dating women who not only look like her but also walk like her, talk like her, and laugh like her.
* * * * *
Tall, shapely slim, and looking ten years younger, his mother reminded him of Nicole Kidman but with blonde hair instead of red hair and with much larger breasts. In the warm, soft glow of the fireplace, she looked as if she was an airbrushed model from a fashion magazine. Maybe because he was sexually attracted to her and with her giving off a radiant glow as if she was a blushing bride, she looked even more beautiful now than she ever looked before. She was so pretty. She was so sexy. She was so unattainably forbidden that he wanted her even more now than he ever wanted her before.
Not an easy thing for him to admit without feeling perverted, being that she was his mother and he was her son, he wished he was her lover. He wished he could remove his mother's sadness as well as her clothes by giving her hot, deep penetrating, orgasmic sex. Just once, he'd love to see her in her panties and bra, topless, and/or naked in the way she just saw him naked. Just once he'd love to see her masturbating herself in the way that she watched him masturbate himself and ejaculating his cum all over his chest, stomach, and hand. Just once, he'd love to see and hear her cum in the way she watched and heard him cum.
If ever he caught her masturbating, he'd offer her his finger, his cock, and/or his tongue. If ever he caught her masturbating, in the way he wished his mother had, he'd strip himself naked and have sex with her. Just once, he'd love to touch her and feel her where no son should ever touch and feel their mother. Just once, he'd love to have incestuous sex with her. Just once, he'd love to give her orgasms with his fingers, his tongue, and his cock.
He wondered if she'd be horny enough to masturbate after seeing him naked and watching him cum in the way that he'd masturbate after seeing her naked and watching her masturbate. Only, never having even seen her in her bra and panties or topless, he had never seen her naked and now wondered if she even masturbated. He wondered if she had a dildo and/or a vibrator. If she did masturbate, he wondered what she thought about when masturbating herself. He wondered while masturbating herself if she sexually thought about him in the way that he sexually thought about her when he masturbated himself.
Expanding on his sexual, incestuous fantasy, he wondered if he gave her an orgasm with his fingers, his tongue, and his cock, if that would make her forget his father and put a smile on her face. Only, just as she'd never allow him to eat her pussy, make love to her, and fuck her, his mother would never give him sex. It pained him and sexually frustrated him that she obviously wasn't sexually attracted to him in the way that he was sexually attracted to her. Obviously, incorrectly judging her by her sexy appearance, she wasn't the sexy, sexual, MILF of a woman that he thought she was and would love to fuck.
In the way that he sometimes wondered about his non-existent sex life, he wondered about her non-existent sex life too. He wondered if she was horny. He wondered if she was sexually frustrated. He wondered again if she masturbated. He wondered if she sexually lusted over anyone in the way that he incestuously lusted over her. Like mother like son, just as she didn't have a man in her life, he didn't have a woman in his life either. He was too sexually enamored with his mother to think of any other woman.
Thinking more about it, if only wishfully thinking, in the way that he was too sexually enamored with her to think of another woman, he wondered if she was too sexually enamored with him to think of another man. With him having a mother and son, Freudian, Oedipus complex, he was attracted to women who looked like her. He tried replicating her by finding her clone but, with them so different inside, that never work, especially when he called them Elizabeth, Liz, Mother, Mom, or Mommy while having sex with them.
"Pardon? Did you just call me Elizabeth? Who's Elizabeth? Why are you thinking of another woman while your cock is inside of me? Even more disturbing than that, did you just call me Mom? Do you think that I'm your mother? Maybe you should have sex with your mother instead of with me," said more than one woman when he blurted out the wrong name while in deep sexual passion. "Get out!"
Whenever he kissed a woman who looked his mother, he imagined kissing his mother. Whenever he touched and felt a woman who looked like his mother, he imagined touching and feeling his mother. Whenever he had sex with a woman who looked like his mother, he imagined having sex with his mother. Whenever receiving a blowjob from a woman who looked like his mother, he imagined his mother sucking his cock while he felt her tits and fingered her nipples.
Unable to remove his mother from his thoughts, he imagined cumming in his mother's mouth and her swallowing his cum. He imagined giving his mother a cum bath. He imagined giving his mother orgasmic sex enough for her to scream out his name. Yet, he was tired of hooking up with clones of her while pretending that he was having sex with his mother. Even though they looked like her on the surface, talked like her, laughed like her, and even walked like her, all women paled in comparison to her. It wasn't nearly the same having sex with them in the way it would be having sex with his mother.
'I love you, Mom,' he thought.
Suddenly he felt the way that Norman Bates must have felt when professing his incestuous love for his mother, Norma. Yet, if he was to invent the perfect woman, he feared she'd be his mother. She'd look like her, talk like her, walk like her, laugh like her, and even smile like her. Obviously, he was in love with his mother but not in the way that a son should love his mother. Truth be told, like mother like son, with her not reciprocating his incestuous, sexual attraction, he was just as sad, just as lonely, and just as sexually frustrated as she perhaps was.
* * * * *
### SusanJillParker -- 09 ###
Alone on Valentine's Day, with no one he'd rather be with, Robert keeps his mother company.
* * * * *
Just as he didn't understand why he was alone on Valentine Day, he didn't understand why someone who looked like his mother was alone on Valentine's Day, too. Just as he didn't understand why he didn't have a woman in his life, he didn't understand why someone who looked as beautiful and was as sexy as his mother didn't have a man in her life. Yet, if his mother had a man in her life, no doubt, he'd be jealous. No doubt, if his mother had a man in her life, he'd plant a wedge between them to ruin their relationship before it even started.
As convoluted as it was psychologically disturbing, if she wasn't his mother, he'd ask her out on a date. If she wasn't his mother, he'd treat her more as his lover than his mother. If she wasn't his mother, instead of just being his loving Valentine and his incestuous lover, she'd be his sexy, MILF, cougar of a lover. If she wasn't his mother, in the sexually horny way that he was feeling now, he'd kiss her. He'd really kiss her. He'd French kiss her.
Not just the peck that he gave her when she stood beneath the mistletoe on Christmas, he'd part her lips with his tongue and French kiss her. Not just the peck he gave her on New Year's Eve, he'd part her lips with his tongue and French kiss her. Then, not just the peck that he just gave her for Valentine's Day, he'd part her lips with his tongue and French kiss her. If she wasn't his mother, he'd take her in his arms and kiss her deep and long with sexual passion while touching her and feeling her everywhere through her clothes.
Too bad she was his mother. If she wasn't his mother, he'd have sex with her. Different from any woman he had ever intimately known, he couldn't imagine what it would feel like to have sex with someone who was as beautiful, as kind, as loving, and as sexy as she was. He couldn't imagine what it would feel like to undress her while kissing her, touching her, and feeling her in all the places he wished he could touch and feel her. He could only imagine what it would feel like to deliberately expose his erect prick to her again with the hopes that she'd touch it, stroke it, suck it, and fuck it this time instead of just staring.
Whenever he masturbated, he imagined making out with her while touching her, feeling her, and undressing her. Whenever he masturbated, he imagined seeing her in her panties and bra, topless, and/or naked. Whenever he masturbated, he imagined seeing, feeling, and sucking her naked breasts. Whenever he masturbated, he imagined fingering her pussy while licking her pussy. Whenever he masturbated, he imagined her hand stroking him and her mouth sucking him. Whenever he masturbated, he imagined making love to her before fucking her. Only, she was his mother and he needed to stop having those incestuous thoughts of being sexually intimate with her.
'That's just wrong,' he thought. 'That's just nasty for me to think of my mother in such a sexual way. What the Hell is wrong with me? Why do I sexually want my mother when she doesn't sexually want me? If she said yes to incestuous sex, could I go through with it and have forbidden sex with my mother?'
She looked at him looking at her and smiled.
"Sorry for spoiling the holiday," she said with sadness after a long pause.
With her falling silent and him daydreaming about having sex with her, she awakened him from the sexual fantasy he was having of her being his lover.
"There's no need to feel sorry, Mother. I understand," he said with compassion.
While giving him a quick flash of her white panties when uncrossing her legs, she stood from the couch and walked to the wine rack and set two wine glasses on the coffee table. She opened a bottle of wine and poured him a glass before pouring herself a glass. When she leaned at the waist in front of him to pour him his wine, she gave him a flash of her long, line of sexy cleavage and her low-cut white bra. Just like that, images he never tired of seeing, his mother flashed him her panties, long line of sexy cleavage, and low-cut bra again.
She took her seat on the couch again while flashing him her panties again. She took a long, thoughtful sip of her wine before speaking. Glad that she was the one who opened the wine, maybe his thought of getting her drunk and kissing her while feeling her through her clothes could be his reality. Only, he wouldn't want to get her drunk enough to be sick, just feeling good enough to relax her sexual inhibitions, morality, and modesty. Normally, it only took two glasses of wine for his mother to feel a little tipsy.
"Suddenly as if my life flashed before my eyes, I thought of past holidays and how happy I used to be," she said leaning forward in her seat to make eye contact with him. "These past four months with the snow and the cold, and with Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Year's, and Valentine's Day, used to be my favorite times of the year. Now, as if I'm being tortured by the memories of them, I dread celebrating them," she said falling sadly silent again.
Obviously, the reason for her sadness, she was thinking about her ex-husband, his father, again. Even though they've been divorced for years, she couldn't go the entire year without thinking of him. Setting her off with every birthday, anniversary, Thanksgiving, or Christmas, New Year's, or Valentine's Day, whenever she thought of his father, she became sad. Something that she obviously needed psychological therapy to get over, he wished he could take the place of his father. He wished he could hold her, comfort her, kiss her, and have sex with his mother in the way that she obviously missed having sex with her ex-husband.
"It's been years, Mom," he said with patient understanding. "He's gone and he's not returning. You need to get over him. You need to get on with your life. He's living his life married to a whore of a woman half his age and seemingly they're happy living in their surrogate father and surrogate daughter, sexual lunacy. I'm sorry I ever brought Jessica in this house. With you having no way to compete with someone as young and as slutty, just as she dumped me for him, he stupidly dumped you for her. I get that, but you need to find someone else to love," he said as if he was her psychiatrist instead of her son.
Just as his mother was a better person than her ex-husband, he was a better person than his ex-girlfriend. Good riddance. Yet, with him just as sexually attracted to his mother as was his mother still in love with her ex-husband, and as he still harbored some modicum of sexual feelings for his ex-girlfriend, he could have been giving himself advice. Yet, even though he said she should find someone, he didn't want his mother finding anyone else to love. He wanted her to love him in that sexually forbidden way. He wanted her to have sex with him and not with someone else.
If anyone needed to get over anyone, with him already over his ex-girlfriend, he needed to get over the inappropriately love that he had for his mother for the past six years, since he turned 18-years-old, when his father left. It wasn't normal for a son to love his mother in that sexual way. It wasn't normal to think that she loved him in the sexual way that he loved her. Just as it wasn't normal for his mother to watch him masturbating, it wasn't normal for him to deliberately flash his mother his erect prick and masturbate and cum in front of her.
'Yet, she stayed to watch me cum, when she could have and should have left my room,' he thought. 'Even more than that, I sexually aroused her by my masturbation show.'
Nonetheless his mother becoming sexually excited over watching him stroking his cock, he needed to stop this mother and son lunacy of hoping to have incestuous sex with her. He needed to stop sexually fantasizing over her. He needed to stop masturbating over the thoughts of her naked and having sex with her. Just as he'd never be allowed to see her naked and touch and feel her naked body, she'd never have sex with him. She'd never make him her lover. Unlike his mother who was nothing like her son, his mother wasn't the incestuous pervert that he was.
Jealous of the love his mother still had for his father, he wished his mother would think of him in the way that she continued thinking of her asshole of an ex-husband. Yet, with him controlled by the incestuous perversion that he felt for his mother, any guidance he gave her was not only twisted but also laced with the incestuous lust that he had for her in his sexual frustration. Because of the sexually inappropriate way he felt about her, it was impossible for him to disassociate himself from his immoral feelings and lustful desires to give her unbiased advice.
Then, continuing his incestuous lunacy, he thought about something that may work for both. If only she viewed him as her lifeline from divorce until she started a new life with someone else, he'd love to fill the role as her sexual rebound. He'd love to make her emotionally happy and sexually satisfied until she found someone else to love. If only his mother shared the incestuous lust he had for her, he could make her happy, if even for only for a little while until she found another lover and until he found someone to love and perhaps even marry.
He'd give her enough orgasms with his fingers, his mouth, and his cock for her to forget her ex-husband. Hopefully, she'd give him enough orgasms with her fingers, her mouth, and her pussy to stop him from masturbating. As convoluted as it sounded when he wasn't stroking his prick while thinking of his mother naked and having sex with her, he was thinking of her not as his mother but as his lover. If only he could have sex with her, he would have sex with her. He wished he could make his mother his lover. He wished he could make his mother his whore, his sexual slave, and his cum slut.
Only, a son soliciting his mother for sex, how would he even suggest that without her thinking that there was something wrong with him? How could he possibly persuade someone who was as morally modest and as religious as she was to have sex with him? Then, even if she agreed to be his incestuous lover, how would he dare go through with having sex with her without her thinking that he was perverted for wanting to have sex with his mother? Sadly, as much as he wanted her sexually, she didn't want him sexually. She'd never have sex with him in the way that he wanted to have sex with her.
"I know and you're right. I need to find a man to love," she said giving him another soft, sad smile. "I can't. I just can't. The thoughts of pretending to love another man turns my stomach. Your father was the only man I was with sexually. I was a virgin when I married him," she said looking up at him as if she was about to cry.
Then, instead of crying, she smiled as if proud of her virginity. She smiled as if she was contently happy being alone instead of feeling terminally sad that she had no one in her life but her incestuously, perverted son. Only, with her having wasted buckets full of tears over his father, her smiles weren't fooling him. Knowing her better than that and with her unable to fool him, she was far from happy. He knew she was hurting inside. She was sad and was the saddest around the holidays.
'She needs to get laid,' he thought. 'She needs to have an orgasm. She needs me to finger and lick her pussy before making love to her cunt and before fucking her cunt.'
Enjoying the thought that the answer to her problems was to have sex, he'd love to volunteer his sexual services to her.
'Mom, you need to get laid,' he imagined saying to her. 'You need an orgasm.' He imagined whipping his cock. 'After you allow me to lick and finger you pussy, after you allow me to make love to you before fucking you, you need to blow me, Mom. You need to suck my cock. As if my cum is the medicine that you need, allowing me to cum in your mouth will make you feel better. I know it will and you won't know until you try,' he imagined willing to say anything to have sex with is mother.
