A lucky american convinced her mom - 2

"Why not?"

"Because that's incest and incest is--"

"I don't see what's wrong with two people exploring their feelings and their bodies just because they're related by blood. It makes no sense. If anything, an incestuous relationship between a mother and her son would be more--"

"Don't," she said putting her finger to his lips. "I can't go there." She pulled her finger away when he took his mother's finger in his mouth and sucked it in the way that he wished he could suck her nipple. "Joey. Eww. Don't do that. That's gross. You're making me feel all weird inside."

"It's not gross how I feel about you Mom," he said moving his hand to her thigh and leaving it there when she didn't move to resist him from touching her there. He was only a few inches from touching her pussy and just the thoughts of fingering her gave him an erection.

"You need to get out of the house more Joey instead of staying home alone with me. You spend way too much time in your room looking at porn. I'm fine now. You don't always need to keep me company and go with me on my errands. I can do things for myself now."

"I'm always thinking about you, Mom."

"I'm always thinking about you too but not in that way. Still, believe it or not, you're normal in the way of the Oedipus Complex. Every son wants to have sex with their mother," she said with an uncomfortable laugh. "You just have too many hormones raging through your body and too much time on your hands. Once you return to college, you'll be too busy to give your old mother another thought, sexual or otherwise," she said with a nervous laugh.

"Have you ever thought of me in that way?"

"In what way? You mean sexually?"

"Yeah,"

"Certainly not," she said pulling her hand off of her son's chest. "I'm your mother," she said, "and you're my child, my baby boy. I'm the one who changed your shitty diapers."

"And you're the one who breast fed me too."

"You remember that?"

"You didn't stop breast feeding me until I was five-years-old Mom," he said with a laugh. "Yeah, I remember you breast feeding me. I remember you having big tits too," he said reaching out to put his index finger when he saw the impression it made through her bra and housecoat.

Slow to react, it wasn't until she looked down and watched his finger fingering her nipple that she realized he was touching her where he shouldn't.

"Joey! Don't do that. Stop," she said brushing his finger away.

"Sorry Mom."

"Oh, Joey," she said leaning down to him to give him a hug and a motherly kiss on the lips. Only with his hand trapped between her breast and his body, he cupped her big tit in his hand. Not moving his finger this time, she didn't even know that he was copping a cheap feel of her big tit. "I know you're sad because your father died but I'm not going anywhere for a long, long time. You don't have feel that you need to make love to me for me to know how much you love me."

Only, he could tell she was lying about never sexually thinking about him. Just by the mere mention of the thought of him thinking about her sexually inspired her nipples to make their appearance through her bra and housecoat. She had big nipples too. Just as he's imagined sucking her nipples now, he remembered sucking his mother's milk then. Besides, he's heard her in her bedroom and in the bathtub masturbating when she thought he wasn't home or in a different part of the house where he wouldn't hear. In the heat of her passion, just as she's having an orgasm, she's even heard him call his name which is what prompted this sudden confession.

"You didn't answer my question?"

"Question? What question? You haven't asked me a question. Did you ask me a question?"

She appeared distracted. No doubt, after giving her something else to think about, he caused her some confusion along with her sexual excitement. Only, he was hoping to cause her even more sexual excitement with what he was about to ask her next.

"May I kiss you?"

"Kiss me? I'm not going to have sex with you Joey if that's what this is about. I'd never have sex with my son."

"It's just a kiss Mom."

She looked at him while biting her lip and fingering one of her buttons on her housecoat.

"If all that you want is a kiss, I guess that would be okay."

"A real kiss?"

"Yes."

"A French kiss?"

"Yes, I know what a real kiss is Joey."

"With tongues."

"Yes but that's all. Okay? Nothing more than that. I mean it," she said scolding him as if he had already done something wrong when he was hoping to do something so very bad before doing something so very good.

"Okay," he said propping up his pillows and sitting up in his bed.

He leaned to her as she leaned to him.

"This is foolish Joey," she said moving away from him at the very last moment. "Are you sure you want to do this, kiss your mother?"

"Are you kidding me? Oh, God yes Mom. I need to know what it feels like to kiss you, really kiss you."

"Know what? What is it that you need to know about kissing me? What's the big mystery? If you've kissed a woman, you've kissed your mother. We're all built the same with lips and tongues."

"You're so much more than mere body pieces mother. Besides, I need to know if my sexual attraction is imagined or real and if my lustful desire for you is mainly because of what I'm truly feeling for you or merely what I'm going through with Dad's death."

"I see," she said suddenly looking so pensive before sticking out her chest with resolve and moving up her chin with confidence. "If I can help you with a kiss, I'm willing to kiss you Joey. Only, it's just a kiss. Please don't take a mother kissing her son in his time of grief as your invitation to grope my body through my housecoat," she said looking down at herself to straighten the material.

She leaned into her son again and closed her eyes this time. As soon they touched lips, Joey parted his mother's lips with his tongue. She responded by relinquishing her tongue to him and they were kissing, really kissing, French kissing. Joey was finally kissing his mother and she was returning his kiss.

Only, as soon as he reached for her breast, actually felt his mother's tit through her housecoat and bra before squeezing, fondling it, and caressing her breast, he was disappointed. Normally, his mother didn't wear a bra beneath her housecoat. She seldom wore anything beneath her housecoat. Wearing her housecoat after she's taken a shower or before she showered, she was normally naked under that thin bit of cotton.

"Joey! Stop," she said pushing his hand away from her big boob. "You promised you wouldn't grope me."