Mother and Son, Ghosts of Christmas b

bySusanJillParker©

So very sexually aroused now, she felt her nipples pushing against her bathrobe. While kissing her, she'd love nothing better than to have her son finger her nipples before breaking off his kiss to suck her nipples. Whether she was sleeping or insane while imagining this conversation, she was enjoying this inappropriate discussion with her son's ghost. Talking to him and seeing him as if he was alive was the best Christmas gift she could have.

Nonetheless, whether he was still alive or still dead, she'd fall to her knees and suck him, if only she could. She'd finally finish what she had started when she was blowing him in her car. If he could ejaculate cum as a dead man, she'd allow him to cum in her mouth and she'd swallow him. Only, as if he was a zombie, she wondered what dead cum tasted like compared to live cum. No matter the taste, he was her son and she'd still blow him.

"Well, tell me then. Don't be shy," she said with a sexy laugh as if she was suddenly transformed into a much younger version of Jessica Lange in American Horror Story. "What do you think of your old, mother's body?"

Putting a hand to her hip, she posed for her son. Shamelessly turning one way before turning the other way, she looked at him as if she was naked instead of in her bathrobe. She was so wicked to ask her son what he thought of her naked body but what did it matter now with him dead? Nonetheless, what did it matter? Nonetheless, she was still curious enough about what he thought of her naked MILF of a body to solicit his opinion.

"You're still very sexy. I've always been sexually attracted to you, Christine," he confessed something that she'd never tire of hearing.

If only he knew that she was sexually attracted to him too when she was alive, she wondered what he'd say. Maybe with him dead, he knows that already. Maybe with him dead he knows all of her dirty, sexy secrets. Only, now in hindsight, she realized that of course he knew she was sexually attracted to him. How could he not know that she wanted him sexually? Something she'd never do if she wasn't sexually attracted to her son, she was giving him a blowjob just before he died. Stroking him faster while sucking him deeper, she was trying to get him to cum in her mouth.

What mother who wasn't sexually attracted to her son would suck her own son? Yet, what mother, even one who was sexually attracted to her son, would suck her own son? What son, who wasn't sexually attracted to his mother, would allow his mother to suck him? Yet, what son, even one who was sexually attracted to his mother, would allow his mother to suck him? Just as it's one thing to think about having sex with your son, it's quite another thing to go through with the incestuous sex and do the dirty deed by blowing him. Just as it's one thing to think about having sex with your mother, it's quite another thing to go through with the incestuous sex and allow your mother to blow you.

"You have? You've always been sexually attracted to me?"

Prying him for sexy information, if only for fodder for her to masturbate herself later while, hopefully, with him watching, she played her innocent mother card. Just as he knew that she was and still is sexually attracted to him, now she knew that he was still sexually attracted to her too. Yet, always feeling guilty about standing in her bedroom door naked and feeling like a wicked whore to suck her own son later than night, after talking to him, she felt better and didn't feel as guilty about being responsible for his death.

With him always trying to peep on her and always staring at what he could see of her, she was always so tempted to show him what he was looking to see. She was glad that finally she did. She was always so tempted to give him a real show, a striptease show but, stopping her dead in her tracks with her unable to cross the incestuous line, the fact that she was his mother always ruined her fun. Fearing that he'd move away, it took her horniness for her to leave her bedroom door open while walking around her room naked and in plain view. It took her to be drunk that faithful night to unzip him, pull out his cock, and suck while stroking him.

"Yes. I've always been sexually attracted to you," he said pausing before speaking as if he was thinking better of what he was about to say.

The thought that her son had always been sexually attracted to her made her as sexually excited as it made her sad. She wasted so much time. They could have been having sex instead of teasing one another while wondering about one another. More than just a great mother and son relationship, they could have had a mother and son incestuous, sexual relationship.

"Tell me, Daniel," she said.

She looked at him with love in the way he was looking at her with lust.

"Tell you what Christine?"

She just wanted to walk up to him and kiss him, French kiss him.

"Did you masturbate over the thoughts of watching me undress and seeing me naked? I guess what I'm asking is, being that you're dead, can you still masturbate?"

She imagined him standing over the sink, the toilet, in the shower, and/or resting in his bed while stroking his prick as he thought about her naked.

"Whether dead or alive, I couldn't possibly count how many times I've masturbated over the thoughts of seeing you in your bra, your panty, seeing you topless, or naked," he said.

Suddenly, in the way she's masturbated herself and has had so many orgasms while imagining having sex with her son, she imagined her son cumming while thinking of her in her bra, her panty, topless, and/or naked. That one confession made her want to strip off her bathrobe and run to him naked.

"Now you don't have to imagine me naked. You can see me naked all the time and any time you'd like to see me naked."

In the way that he was leering at her, she knew that he could see her naked any time he wanted to see her naked.

"Yes now I can," he said.

Wanting to entice him to get more sexual information from him, she continued teasing him.

"I'm a little surprised that you've masturbated over me? I knew you masturbated. I could hear you in your room sometimes. Only, I never thought you'd be masturbating over me," she said acting like the sexually and incestuously innocent mother than she wasn't. "I always figured you'd be masturbating over some young woman your age or over a Hollywood celebrity."

Turning away from him to hide her face from him, she was more than flattered that he masturbated over the thoughts of her naked body in the way she masturbated herself over his naked body. It was sexually exciting for her to know that her son no doubt masturbated over her while thinking of having sex with her in the way she masturbated over him while thinking of having sex with him. Now totally sexually aroused, she was more than sexually excited. She wanted him now in the way she never wanted him.

Only, she couldn't have him. He was dead. Yet, having already hugged him, if she could hug him and he could hug her, as sick as it sounded, maybe she could have sex with her son's spirit too. He's already confessed that, even though he's dead, he still masturbates over the thoughts of her.

"No woman holds a candle to you, Christine. I've masturbated over the sexual thoughts of you many times," he confessed.

She looked at him without speaking as if pondering the appropriateness of what she was about to say next.

"I'm just curious," she said pausing while wanting to continue the conversation.

With it having been a year since she's had such sexually incestuous and inappropriate thoughts about her son, it was then that she imagined having sex with her son again now in the way she imagined having sex with him so very many times before.

"Tell me. What are you curious about Christine?"

If only he knew what she was really curious about, wouldn't he be shocked. No doubt, he'd think of her as a drunken, incestuous whore instead of thinking of her as his kind, loving mother. Yet, if he didn't think of her as an incestuous whore when she was sucking him in the front seat of her car, then he'd never think of her as an incestuous whore. Instead, he'd always think of her as his MILF of a mother, a mother he'd like to fuck. Yet with him dead, maybe he already knows all of her thoughts.

"Did you ever masturbate while thinking of having sex with me?"

Whether using her finger, her vibrator, her dildo, and/or her water massager, she recalled all the times she masturbated herself while thinking of having sex with her son. If only he knew how much she wanted him, she wondered what he'd say. If only he knew how many times she masturbated over the thoughts of having sex with him, surely, he'd think her sexually deranged.

"Oh, my God. Yes," he said. "Lots of times. Actually, every time I masturbated, after I'd think about your naked body, I'd think about us having incestuous sex."

Realizing that either she was dreaming or having a conversation with herself, if only he were still alive, she'd strip off her bathrobe and allow him to take here right now and right here on the living room carpet. She so wanted to touch herself. She so wanted to masturbate herself right in front of her son. Only she wasn't dreaming. He was right there in front of her. Just as she touched and hugged him, he touched and hugged her.

"And what did you imagine you'd do while having sex with my naked body?"

Just as she knew what she'd do to his naked body, she had a good idea of what he'd do to her naked body but she just wanted to hear him say it. She just wanted him to say all of the dirty, nasty words that she's been longing to hear her son say. She needed him to tell her what he'd do to her, if he could physically have sex with her, so that she could masturbate over the thoughts of him doing everything he said he would.

"Everything," he said.

Everything? She quivered with the thought of him doing everything to her but that's a cop out. Everything is not specific enough. She needed him to define everything. She needed to know exactly what he'd do when doing everything to her. She needed him to say all that he'd do to her naked body. She needed more details so that when she awakened from this dream, she could masturbate herself.

"Everything?"

She wanted him to confess all of the dirty details. In the way that she was willing to confess all of her sexual thoughts to him, she needed him to confess all of his sexual thoughts to her. Her idea of everything, she imagined him kissing her, feeling her, licking her, and fucking her. Then, after he did everything to her, she'd do everything to him. She'd kiss him, feel him, suck him, and fuck him.

"Yes, everything," he said.

Even though he was dead, she suspected that he was still shy in telling her all that he thought about doing to her while masturbating himself. Maybe he thought that she'd think him twistedly perverted for wanting to have sex with his mother but she wouldn't, especially now that he's dead. If anyone was twistedly perverted, she was the sexually deranged one for giving him a naked show of her body by not closing her bedroom door when she was dressing. She was the sexually wicked one for giving her son a drunken blowjob in her car while he was driving.

She still couldn't believe she did that, sucked his cock while he was driving? Why did she do that? If only she had waited until they arrived home to act out her sexual lust for her son, he'd be alive today. Now talking to him in a dreamlike state was all she had.

"Can you elaborate more on everything?" She laughed. "Did you kiss me?"

She swooned at the imagined thought of her son kissing her now. She'd love nothing more than to feel her son's tongue probing her mouth. If only he was still alive, she'd allow him to do everything and anything he wanted to her naked body. Gladly and willingly, she'd even give him anal sex, if that's what he so desired. The imagined thought of him pounding her ass while holding on to her big tits made me wild with sexual desire for him.

"Did I kiss you?" He looked at her as if she was nuts. "Constantly? I never stopped kissing you in my sexual fantasies while masturbating myself."

She so wanted to walk to him and stick her tongue in his mouth. Only, no matter if he was dead or alive and no matter if she was awake, insane, or dreaming, it was one thing to think it but quite another thing to actually do it. For her to blow her son, she was drunk, so drunk that she couldn't drive. Yet, if this is a dream and he's still dead, then she's free to do anything and everything that comes to her mind while sleeping, even to ask him detailed questions of what he thought about when masturbating himself.

"Did you French kiss me?"

She imagined him parting her lips and sticking his tongue in her mouth while feeling her ass. If only he'd French kiss her now, she'd return his kiss. She'd love nothing more than to make out with her dead son on Christmas day. Only, she wondered if her dead son could kiss her in the way that he hugged her. When hugging her, he certainly felt alive enough to her then. Maybe this wasn't a dream. Maybe he was haunting her. Maybe this wasn't even her son but some ghost made to look like her son. Maybe she's totally lost her mind.

"Of course," he said.

She imagined him touching her and feeling her while kissing her.

"When you were French kissing me, were you touching me too, I mean sexually?"

She imagined him feeling her breasts and her ass through her clothes while French kissing her.

"I couldn't keep my hands off of you, Christine," he said.

She quivered with the thought of her son French kissing her while feeling her ass and her breasts through her clothes. Giving him free access to her big breasts, she imagined her one arm wrapped around his neck and her other arm wrapped around his back while she kissed and kissed him as he touched and felt her where no son should ever touch and feel his mother.

"Did you imagine me kissing you while touching you too?"

She imagined reaching down and behind him to squeeze his beautiful ass while French kissing him. She swooned at the thought of being in his arms as if she was his lover instead of his mother. She imagined him reaching around her to lift her short skirt and to feel and squeeze her ass through her panty while feeling and fondling her breasts through her blouse and bra with his other hand.

"Of course," he said. "In the way that I always imagined feeling and groping your round, firm ass and your breasts through your clothes while kissing you, I imagined you feeling and groping my ass while kissing me too."

What she never should have done in the car while he was driving, she imagined feeling his cock through his pants while kissing him now. If only they had stopped by the side of the road, he'd be alive today. If only she had controlled her incestuous, sexual urges until she got home, he wouldn't have died that night. With guilt and remorse plaguing her for a year, it was comforting to know that he not only forgives her but also accepts the responsibility that the accident was as much his fault as it was her fault too.

"In the way that you touched and felt me," she said pausing. "Did you imagine me feeling your cock through your pants while I kissed you?"

She looked at him while imagining feeling his emerging erection through his pants now in the way she did that fateful night. He was so big. He was so hard. He was so sexually excited, as sexually excited as she was sexually excited.

"Yes, all the time," he said.

She'd do anything to not only see her son's cock now but also to stroke her son's prick. Wishing she could feel her son's prick in her mouth again, she'd do anything if only she could finish blowing him, especially if that would make him happy. Even though he admitted that it was his fault too, she still felt so guilty for causing the accident that resulted in his death.

"Oh, my," she said. She paused while thinking about what to ask him next. "Being that you masturbated over the thoughts of having sex with me, did you imagine me masturbating you too? Did you imagine what it would feel like to have my hand around your erect penis while I stroked you?"

He looked at her and smiled.

"Many, many times Christine, I imagined you stroking me while I masturbated myself."

She turned red with what she was about to ask her son next.

"You don't have to answer my question if it's as embarrassing to you as it is to me but did you imagine me sucking you?"

With her not drunk now in the way that she was drunk that night, her questions embarrassed her in the way that she imagined her questions embarrassed her son. Yet, as if she was wanting to suck him now, she stroked her hair back before touching her lips with her fingers. Only, with him dead, what could she possibly ask him that would embarrass him.

"You're getting me sexually aroused Christine but yes, I imagined you blowing me," he said.

She tightened her bathrobe ties and haughtily threw back her head while tossing back her dark brown hair. With her brown eyes flashing her sexual arousal, she asked her son her next question.

"And did you cum?"

She imagined sucking her son while stroking her son. She imagined her son cumming in her mouth and her swallowing all that her son had to give. Then, she imagined sucking him dry while stroking him before licking him clean.

"I did," he said.

As if she was Lily Tomlin when she played the telephone operator on Rowan and Martin's Laugh-In, instead of his mother, she tucked her index finger inside of her bathrobe and inside of her cleavage. As if her cleavage was her pussy slit and she was about to masturbate herself, she looked at him with incestuous lust.

"It's not a question that a mother should ask her son but did you to cum in my mouth?"

She imagined sucking her son until he ejaculated in her mouth.

"I did," he said. "I ejaculated my cum in your mouth."

As if she could feel her son's cock in her mouth and as if she could taste her son's cum, she wished she could blow her son now. If only this wasn't a dream and if only her son was still alive, she'd go to his room naked and give her 22-year-old son the best sex he's ever had in his short life.

"Oh, God," she said fanning herself with her hand. "And in your sexual fantasy, I'm curious to know," she said.

Definitely, without a doubt, if her son ejaculated in her mouth, she'd swallow.

"What are you curious to know Christine?"

As if it was happening now, she couldn't help herself from imagining not only stroking her son but also sucking her son while he ejaculated in her mouth and she swallowed.

"Did I swallow your cum?"

To make her fantasy come true, she wanted to blow her son now. She wanted her son to cum in her mouth and she wanted to swallow her son.

"You did. You swallowed every last drop of my cum before licking my cock clean while still sucking me and stroking me," he said.

She was dizzy with sexual delight with the thoughts of sucking her son.

"From your description, seemingly, I enjoyed blowing you, my own son," she said making more of a statement than asking him a question.

She was as disturbed that she'd have such incestuous thoughts for her son as she was sexually excited.

"Seemingly you did Christine," he said with a dirty laugh. "Not only in my sexual fantasy but that night, in real life, you loved sucking my cock."

Now that she was imagining blowing her son, she imagined making love to her son.

"What about sexual intercourse?"

She wondered if he imagined them making love in the way that she's always imagined them making love. If only he was really here now standing in front of her, she'd make love to him before fucking him, really fucking him hard.

"What about sexual intercourse?"

No doubt about it, if she could, she'd have sexual intercourse with her son.

"Did you imagine us making love when you were masturbating to the thoughts of having sex with me?"

She could nearly feel her son on top of her while humping her. Returning his humps with her thrusts, she could nearly feel herself humping him.

"I imagined us making love many times Christine and I wished we could have made love before I died," he said with sadness.

Curling her hair with her fingers, she played with her hair.

"Tell me. After we made love, did you fuck me too?"

She imagined her son pounding her pussy, really pounding her pussy hard, and hard enough to make her have an orgasm.

"I did. I fucked you hard, really hard and I fucked you deep," he said.

Feeling her nipples harden and her pussy moisten, she needed to know the answer to her next question.

"Did I cum?" She looked at him with the sexual frustration of being so alone and so lonely. "Did you give me an orgasm?"

He smiled at her.

"You screamed your sexual pleasure with me fucking you deep and hard," he said.

Oh my God, if only he'd take her now, right now, she needed a good fuck. Only, he couldn't. He was dead and she was obviously dreaming. None of this was real. This couldn't be real. Watching them lowering him in the ground, most definitely, he was dead. With the dead never returning, either she was talking to his ghost or she was talking to herself. Unable to tell which, either she was sleeping and he was haunting her in her dreams or she was totally crazy and had lost her mind.

"Just wondering, if you don't mind me asking and if you don't mind kissing and telling," she said.

She needed to know that answer to her question.

"I don't mind kissing and telling," he said. "Ask me your question and I'll answer it honestly."

She couldn't help from comparing herself to other women he has had.

"I was just wondering Daniel," she said continuing to curl her hair with her finger.

Something she wished he had been forthright in confessing, she was embarrassed to ask.

"What were you wondering Christine?"

Putting her embarrassment aside, she asked her question.

"Even though we didn't get to have sex but, when you were masturbating yourself over the thought of having sex with me, how did you imagine I was in bed?" She laughed a sexy albeit an embarrassed laugh.

She looked at him as if she was more his girlfriend, his wife, or his lover than his mother.

"You were phenomenal. You were the best lay I've ever had," he said. "There was no one even close."

Oh, my God. Even though he had imagined making love to her while masturbating himself, he enjoyed making love to her. He enjoyed making love to her as much as she imagined she'd enjoy making love to him. He enjoyed fucking her as much as she imagined she'd enjoy him fucking her and as much as she imagined she'd enjoyed fucking him.

"Thank you," she said. "That's so nice of you to say."

It was difficult for her to be so cordial and so motherly like, when all she really wanted to do was to rip off her bathrobe and have sex with him right here and right now.

"You're welcome and I wouldn't have said that if it wasn't true. No one has ever made love to me in the way that you made love to me," he said.

She swooned at her son saying that, confessing that, and admitting that she was the best lay he's ever had.

"For you to compare me, you've had sex with others then, I imagine," she said with a pang of possessive jealousy while still curling her hair with her finger.

She imagined him with a pretty girl, a woman his age. She imagined him giving her hot sex instead of giving her hot sex. Instantly, she was jealous.

"I have been with other women," he said.

After he's had sex with a younger woman, a woman half her age, she wondered why he'd still want her. She wondered why he'd still lust over her. She wondered why he'd still sexually desire his old mother.

"I apologize for being so nosy but I'm just curious. Just how many women have you had sexually?"

Perhaps he's not as experienced as she imagines he is.

"A few, several," he admitted.

Women her age that she couldn't compete with, she imagine him kissing them while feeling them. She imagined him seeing them naked. She imagined them sucking and fucking her son. She imagined him telling them that he loved them. Only, with him dead, who would want him now but her, his mother?

"I see," she said.

And yet, even though he's sexually experienced with other women, for some inexplicable reason, he still wants to have sex with his mother. She had to remind herself of that for her not to be so jealous. Besides, if he was willing for her to suck his cock, then he sexually wanted her as much as she sexually wanted him.

"In your sexual fantasy, not that it matters now that you're dead but I'm just curious?"

She'd love to know what it would feel like for her son to squirt his love juice inside of her pussy.

"What are you curious about knowing Christine?"

Maybe when he imagined them having sex, in the same way that she imagined them having sex, he imagined riding his mother bareback.

"Where you wearing a condom when you were inside of me?"

As soon as she asked her question, she imagined her son's cock buried deep inside of her pussy. For sure, she'd rather feel his naked cock inside of her than to feel his Latex covered prick.

"No, of course not. I wasn't wearing a condom," he said.

It sexually excited her that they shared the same sexual fantasy.

"Tell me Daniel," she said curling her hair. "Did you cum in my pussy?"

As if he was cumming inside of her right now, she could feel nearly feel him ejaculating.

"I did," he said. "I ejaculated in your pussy."

Oh, my God, how sexually exciting is that with her son cumming inside of her?

"If we were really having sex instead of just having sex in your thoughts," she said pausing.

She imagined him giving her a baby.

"If we were really having sex, what Christine?"

She wondered if she'd have a girl or a boy.

"Granted it was only in your sexual fantasy but you could have gotten my pregnant she said. With me only 41-years-old and you 22-years-old, if we really did have sexual intercourse without using a condom, you could have given me a baby," she said. "Your son could have also been your half-brother or your daughter would have been your half-sister, I think," she said with a sexy, little laugh.

She imagined them running away together. She imagined them starting a new life somewhere else and getting married. She imagined them walking down the sidewalk with their baby carriage with the baby inside. Then, imagining a monster, she imagined a baby with four arms, four legs, and two heads. As if she was a character on American Horror story, she imagined their baby being not only dead in the way her son was but also a ghost too.

"That would have been confusing," he said with a laugh, "wouldn't it?"

She looked at him with as much sexual interest as she looked at him with motherly love.

"What about me?"

She continued curling her hair with her finger while staring at her son.

"What about you?"

Even by just this conversation without him volunteering as much as she's volunteering, already she was sexually frustrated.

"Did you sexual satisfy me? Did you make me cum too? Did you give me an orgasm with your fingers, your mouth, and/or your cock," she said imagining him

Imagining her son giving her an orgasm delivered to a heightened sexual arousal. Even though he already told her that he gave her an orgasm when fucking her, she wanted him to tell her again. Should he disappear tomorrow and be gone from her forever, she needed to hear him say it again.

"You had multiple orgasms. You had an orgasm every time we were together," he said.

It's been so long since she had an orgasm that she'd love for him to give her one now.

"Now that you've piqued my curiosity. How did you give me an orgasm?"

He smiled while staring at his mother as if he was having sex with her now.

"Sometimes with my fingers. Other times with my tongue. And always with my cock," he said.

Her mouth fell open with the incestuous thoughts of her son not only fingering her pussy but also licking her pussy before fucking her pussy.

"So you fingered my pussy while licking my pussy?"

She looked as if she was about to have an orgasm now with the thoughts of her son fingering her pussy while licking her pussy.

"I did," he said.

She imagined him looking up at her from in between her legs with her vaginal secretions all over his beautiful face.

"I wonder," she said.

She needed to know and the only way for her to find out the answer is to ask the question.

"What is it that you wonder Christine?"

In the way that she did so many times before, she imagined her son having sex with her.

"Well, being that you've already imagined having sex with my naked body many times, if you could, would you have sex with my naked body again now," she said.

Opening the door for her next question, she hoped he'd say yes.

"I'd like that. I'd love to finally and really have sex with you instead of just imagining having sex with you. Nothing could ever make me happier that to kiss you while feeling you before falling between your legs to finger your pussy while licking your pussy," he said.

She was as relieved as she was sexually excited that he still wanted to have sex with her.

"If you don't mind," she said pausing.

She imagined herself naked with her naked son. She imagined them kissing and touching before having deeply penetrating sex.

"Don't mind what?"

Here goes nothing.

"If you don't think me too much of an incestuous whore," she said pausing again.

Even if he didn't think of her as an incestuous whore, she felt like an incestuous whore.

"I'd never think of you as an incestuous whore," he said. "As you were saying, if I don't mind what Christine?"

She couldn't believe she was going to say what she was going to say next.

"I'd like to suck you before you made love to me," she said.

Already she could feel his cock in her hand before taking it in her mouth.

"I'd love for you to suck me too, Christine," he said. "You'd make me the happiness son for me to look down in your big brown eyes to see my hairy, hard cock in your beautiful mouth while you stroked my cock and stroked me."

If she sucked his cock, she wondered if he'd return the sexual favor by licking her pussy.

"And if you wouldn't mind," he said pausing again.

She'd love nothing better than to see him reach up to fondle her breasts and finger her nipples with her vagina secretions covering his nose, mouth, chin, and jaw.

"Yes? Wouldn't mind what?"

Here goes nothing.

"Would you lick my pussy and give me an orgasm too?"

She looked at him while waiting for him to speak.

"I'd love nothing better than to eat you, Mother," he said. "It would be my honor to lick your pussy and give you an orgasm."

She swooned at the thought of her son fingering her pussy while licking her pussy.

"After you give me an orgasm with your fingers and tongue, I'd love for you to cum in my mouth," she said.

As soon as she said that, she imagined her son ejaculating his seed in her mouth and her swallowing all that he had to give before licking his cock clean.

"I can do that," he said.

Oh, my God, with him giving her the green light, she couldn't wait to suck her son.

"And after I blow you and after you cum in my mouth, when you're rested and reclaim your energy," she said pausing yet again.

She imagined her son on top of her while humping her.

"Being that I'm dead, I don't have to rest to reclaim my energy. My stamina never diminishes," he said.

'Wow,' she thought. 'He's an endless supply of energy and stamina. She imagined him going up and down on her as if his body was a hydraulic piston.

"I don't mean to put you on the spot, but with you being dead, do you think you could make love to me?"

She imagined him on top of her humping her superhuman fast. She imagined herself on top of her son while returning his humps but not as fast.

"I'd love to make love to you, Christine," he said.

She imagined fucking her son, really fucking her son before he rolled her over to pound her pussy, really pound her pussy at superhuman speed.

"And you're going to think me so wicked but," she said pausing again while staring at him.

She couldn't wait to strip off her bathrobe to show her son her naked body.

"But what?"

She couldn't wait for her son to strip of his clothes and show her his cock.

"After you've made love to your mother, do you think you could fuck your old mother? It would make me so very happy for you to pound my pussy so fast and so hard to make me cum," she said.

After having the worst Christmas last year with the death of her son, this was going to be the best Christmas she ever had. With the rebirth, the reincarnation, and/or the imagined image that her son was still alive and here with her while ready to sexually give her all that she wants, she was so happy.

"It would be my pleasure to pound your pussy fast and hard enough to make you cum Mom," he said.

Tit for cock. If she was going to show him her tits, she wanted to see his cock.

"Before we have sex, can you do me a favor?"

Seemingly, she was just as incestuously wicked as was her son.

"Anything Christine. You only need do ask," he said.

She couldn't wait to ask him her question.

"May I see your cock? I really didn't get a good look at it in the front seat of the car," she said.

She couldn't wait for him to show her his cock.

"Absolutely. I'd love to show you my cock," he said unbuckling, unbuttoning, unzipping his pants and removing them along with his underwear.

As if his cock was choosing his mother to have sex with, his erect prick stuck straight out while pointing its swollen head at his mother.

"You have a beautiful penis Daniel," she said.

He stared at her as if he was undressing her with his eyes. He stared at her as if she was already naked.

"What about you?"

Obviously, he was asking to see her naked.

"What about me?"

She played her innocent mother card while pretending she didn't know the meaning of his question when she did.

"May I see your body?"

Oh my God, her son wants to see her body. Her son wants to see her naked. She undid her bathrobe ties and allowed her robe to fall to her ankles. Her son stared at her breasts and pussy in the way that she was staring at his cock.

"Well, what do you think of your old mother?"

He filled his eyes with all of her before speaking.

"You're so very incredibly beautiful mother," he said never removing his eyes from her breasts and pussy.

In the dim colorful light of the Christmas three, she stood there naked and vulnerable while imagining Jingle Bells playing through her head.

"Well, shall we begin?"

* * * * *

Daniel stepped forward, took his mother in his arms, and kissed her. Wanting to finish what she started, she fell to her knees and took his erect cock in her hand before taking it in her mouth. She was blowing him. She was blowing her dead son.

With him being dead for a year and not having sex for a year, it only took her a few strokes and a few sucks for him to cum in her mouth. While he reached his hands down to feel her breasts and finger her nipples, she continued sucking her son's cock. Then, when he put a gentle hand to the back of her brunette, pretty head, he started humping her mouth and fucking her face in the way she always imagined him doing and in the way that his father used to do whenever she sucked him. Inappropriately albeit humorously, she thought of the words, dead man cumming, for some reason and with that, she swallowed her son.

He reached down for her after she sucked him and they kissed. Then, as if he was her Angel and she was as light as a cloud, he lifted her and carried her to her bedroom. Suddenly, not recognizing her own bedroom, her room was totally different. As if she was on a cloud or as if she was in Heaven with him, everything was a greyish white. The carpet was replaced by a padded flood. The walls were padded too, with the padding going higher than she could reach when jumping.

There were no pictures on the wall and nothing that look familiar. Her room was barren of everything recognizable. Every possession, her hairbrushes, her makeup, her perfume, her shoes, and her clothes were all gone. Her room looked as if she was robbed or if she was getting ready to move. Instead of making love in her bed, they were dancing. She was dancing with her son in the way she danced with him at her company's Christmas party.

"What is this? Where am I? Where are all of my things?"

Her bed was gone and replaced by a cot. Obviously what she thought was real in her son visiting her was just her imagination. Her son was no longer there. She was alone. She was so very alone. Then, when she looked down at herself, she was naked.

How did she get naked? She didn't know. When did she get naked? She didn't know that either. She didn't remember stripping herself naked. How long as she been naked? That's another question she couldn't answer. She must have removed her clothes herself as there was no one else here.

"Daniel? Are you there?"

As soon as she asked for her son, she could feel him there with her. He's was there with her and he was naked too. Now no longer panicking, she felt better with him by her side. What better Christmas could she possibly ask to have than to be naked with her naked son?

"I'm here Mom. I'll always be here with you. Merry Christmas Mom," he said.

She felt his kiss before feeling his hand cupping her naked breasts, feeling her breasts, and fingering her nipples.

"Merry Christmas Daniel. I love you," she said.

She loved the way he so gently touched her. She loved how she felt in his arms. Only, she wished the band would play something other than fucking Jingle Bells. So difficult to slow dance too, she wished they'd at least play Silent Night.

"I love you too Mom," he said.

* * * * *

Suddenly, her door opened and people standing dressed in white coats while holding clipboards stared at her as if she was an animal in a zoo.

"And this is Christine," said the head psychiatrist to a small staff of psychiatrist that he was giving a tour of the asylum. "Hello Christine. How are you today?"

Christine looked at her doctor and smiled.

"Hello Dr. Johnson," she said with her arms affixed in the position of dancing as if she was dancing with someone. "I'm wonderful. My son is here with me. Thank you for asking and how are you?"

"I'm well," he said.

She continued waltzing herself around her small room.

"Can you do me a favor," she said still dancing.

She looked at him and smiled.

"If I can, I'd be happy to do you a favor," he said.

He returned her look with his smile.

"Can you have them play a different song other than Jingle Bells?"

Dr. Johnson looked at his staff and winked as there was no music playing Jingle Bells.

"I'll see what I can do," he said. "What song would you like?"

She looked at him and smiled.

"Silent Night or White Christmas, any song that I can slow dance to with my son," she said.

She continued waltzing around her small room.

"If I may ask, where are you clothes?"

She forgot she was naked but not caring who saw her naked, as long as she was in the arms of her son, with everything feeling so natural, she wasn't embarrassed.

"I was hot from all of this dancing. I took them off," she said with a shrug and with the laugh of an obvious crazy woman. "Besides, my son is here visiting me for Christmas and I wanted to dance with him before continuing where we left off before he died." She looked at the doctor and smiled again before giving him a wink. "We're going to have sex," she said in a whisper.

The doctor looked away from her to close and lock her door before addressing his staff.

"She's been with us the longest, nearly twenty years since she was committed for 30 days of observation after trying to kill herself. Never being well enough to leave, afraid she'd hurt herself or someone else, she's been here ever since," he said looking from one member of his staff to the other.

"That's so sad," said one of the young, female psychiatrists.

"She lost her mind when she was giving her son oral sex and he lost the control of the car he was driving. He was killed instantly but somehow she survived, no doubt because she was too drunk to go into shock. Every Christmas she thinks he's still here with her," said Dr. Johnson. "Every Christmas she thinks she's having sex with her son."

His staff looked at her closed door before scribbling their notes and looking at their chief of psychiatry.

"That's so terribly sad," said one of the female residents. Obviously a female psychiatrist could feel her pain more than any of her male counterparts.

"We routinely medicate her, so that she'll sleep and get some much needed rest, otherwise, she'll be up dancing and talking to her imagined son all night. We continue giving her daily therapy but nothing seems to help. We can't convince her otherwise that her son is dead. We had to give her a private room because she routinely removes all of her clothes while pretending that they're having sex," said the psychiatrist.

THE END