Ooh son fuck your mother and Breed me

The 21 year-old was silent, studying the psychologist. She was a striking redhead with a strong resemblance to Julianne Moore. She was wearing a gray woman’s suit, white buttoned blouse, and sitting crossed legged with a moderate show of leg. Her 3 inch red pumps gave her a professional yet sexy look. He figured her to be in her early-mid 40s, similar to his mom. Dr. Connor was definitely a MILF, but not like his mother.

“Approximately a year,” he answered somewhat boldly.

Holly met his peering. She maintained a poker face and exuded a professional demeanor. Her mind, however, was recalling the young man’s entrance into her office just a few minutes ago. He had sandy blonde hair, was about six foot, and donned a royal blue polo shirt which showcased his muscular arms. He also wore denim shorts that displayed his strong thighs and legs. On his feet were summer flip-flops. She resisted the urge to glance at his crotch, and mentally returned to the discussion.

“Was there an immediate occurrence which began the attraction or did it just evolve over time?” the therapist queried.

He quickly responded. “An immediate occurrence.”

“Describe it.”


Holly watched John’s pupil movement as he recalled. A hazy appearance of his blue eyes told the doctor that he was enjoying the reliving.

“My afternoon class was cancelled so I went home early. I was in the house and walking in the hall to my bedroom. I have to pass by the bathroom. Mom had just walked out of it. She was naked and her hair was wet. I guess she just showered.”

Holly looked to John’s right.

“You figured you had the house to yourself. Am I correct in this presumption, Ashley?”

Ashley Nichols sat looking slightly uncomfortable. The stunning blonde was a dead ringer for porn queen Brandi Love (sans tattoos). She was in a summery yellow dress, the top portion draping over her full and large breasts. She also was cross-legged, however a much better view of her sexy legs was unconsciously offered—to the therapist.

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Holly couldn’t help but view the smooth and toned look of Ashley’s thighs. It made her hark back to her sorority sister’s thighs which the good doctor’s face was between many a night back in the day. Ashley’s high heel, tantalizingly dangling off her foot, did not help the redhead’s concentration.


The mother cleared her throat and promptly replied, “Yes.”

The psychologist shifted her focus back to the son, despite wanting to leer at the mother’s legs and thighs. “Continue.”

“We were both surprised, literally running to each other like this. Her mouth opened as if she was going to scream. Nothing came out. Also you’d figured she would cover herself up right away. She didn’t.”

An eyebrow of the clinician was raised. “‘She didn’t,’” she repeated the last part of the son’s description. Then she asked, “How long would you say it took for her to cover up?”

His answer was immediate. “A good 3-4 seconds.”

Holly shot a look to Ashley, then returned to the son.


“What happened next?”

“She just stood there with her hands at her side. She closed her mouth. Next she—maybe I am wrong—seem to stick out her chest at me. She said, ‘Oh, John. What are you doing home so early?’ Then she crossed her arm over her breasts and with the other hand covered her vagina. What also struck me was the normalcy of her voice—not upset.’

The psychologist shot another look to the mother. “Ashley, you didn’t try to hide yourself right away? Why?”

She looked down and up, released a distressed sigh then answered. “I wanted John to see me.”

“You wanted your son to see you—naked?” the counselor repeated Ashley’s reply to add emphasis to the illicit attraction.

Uneasily she replied. “Yes.”


The therapist pushed. “Why?”

Ashley’s tone was demure. “I was thinking about John while I was in the shower. When I opened the bathroom door and I saw him, I was surprised he was home. Initially I was surprised he saw me. Then…” she trailed off to pause and then continue in an almost embarrassed tone, “I wanted to see if he liked me nude.”

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“You were thinking about him while you were in the shower? Is it fair to say you were fantasizing about your son while you were in the shower?”


“Were you masturbating?” queried Holly.



“Did you climax?”

A little stunned at the question, Ashley replied incredulously. “Yes.”

“So you pleasured yourself, came, and then when the object of your desire unexpectedly appeared, you wanted him to see you naked. Would this be a valid presumption?”

“Yes,” croaked Ashley.

The psychologist turned to the college student. “John, after your initial shock, how would you describe your mother without any clothes on and why do you find her so stimulating?”

Directly and confidently he replied. “My mother is a MILF goddess. I mean, look at her! She is so sexy. I loved seeing her bare, big tits. Her areoles are also big. Her nipples were erect and fat. I love big tits. She works out a lot at the gym so her waist could rival a girl’s my age. She’s got wide hips, just like an older woman should have. Her pussy that day had some stubble on it, like it was recently shaved. I like that on a woman, not too much pubic hair. Or well trimmed. I also like a bald kitty too. And mom’s legs are long. I LOVE long legs. Mom has snakes for legs. As a person, Mom is a doll. She is sweet, caring, faithful, and is fun to be around.”


Holly saw how Ashley stared at her son during and after his verbal appraisal. The parent looked flattered. A small, shy, appreciative grin appeared on the blonde. The therapist began questioning her.

“How long have you been sexually attracted to your son, Ashley?”

The mother released a guilt-ridden sigh. “I guess it began a few months before the shower incident.”

“And this was how long after the divorce?” Holly would soon realize she unintentionally stepped on a sore spot for Ashley.

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The mother’s reply started out nicely with “More than a year” then suddenly shifted to an upset “Dr. Connor, what kind of doctor are you?!”

The clinician recalled the intake form. Ashley’s husband was a serial philander. The discovery of this and the marital split were devastating to her.


“I am sorry that I brought that up,” she apologized. “I am just noting the time-line of attraction.” She paused, then calmly answered the venom-filled question. “I am a clinical and cognitive psychologist with a concentration in human sexuality. I specialize, as you both know from your referral, in mother-son relationships. I help two consenting adult relatives who are physically and emotionally attracted to each other but who are unable to initiate a relationship. I help them overcome the societal objections and begin to foster the relationship so that both mother and son are fulfilled in every conceivable way.”

The blonde shifted in her seat, slightly embarrassed at her lashing out at the one person who would help her defeat her hindrances to the relationship she so desired.

Holly offered Ashley a forgiving look. The psychologist was about to continue when John interrupted with a question.

“Why do you offer this type of service?”

“Consensual mother/son relationships are currently on the rise. Previously we had Freud’s immortal Oedipus complex. The X-rated film Taboo, about a woman who has a sexual and loving relationship with her son after her husband leaves them, was one of the biggest grossing adult films of all times. Its next three sequels pertained to, or contained an element of, mother/son incest. You had the occasional porn film which had a splash of this type of illicit sex. And if you think about it, May-
December romances are nothing but the G-rated version of a mother and her son.

“Over the past several years, the internet offers proof that the female parent and her male offspring are not only having consensual sex, but an emotional relationship which rivals the “normal” husband and wife couple. According to Answerbag, ‘there is plenty of research indicating clearly that over half of the world population has had some sort of sexual encounter with their mothers/sons and between 10 and 15 percent have had full intercourse. It is in fact the most common type of incest by far.’ Many of those who admitted to having sex with their mother or son said it was the best sex ever. Within those, the partners feel they have an intimacy and emotion in their relationship they never had previously with a non-relative.


“Additionally, incest websites devoted to mother-son sex and those ‘general’ incest sites containing mother-son loving are plentiful. There are several adult actresses now who concentrate on mother/son or step-mother/son films. And of course there are the current popular terms, ‘cougar’ and ‘MILF’ to describe a sexy older woman. MILF, publically, is used by a young man to describe a desired mature woman other than his mother. However, privately, many young men—like you, John—look at their own mom and label her a MILF.

“I would say the primary reason for mothers and sons getting together—besides the obvious attraction to the forbidden, which is always a powerful aphrodisiac—is that the world has been and continues to be a cold place for many people socially and personally. Divorce has been on the rise for the last four decades. With economic strains and geo-political concerns like terrorism, people are turning inward for love, sex, and relationship security. They say there is no stronger love than a mother and her child. What better person to share your heart, bed, and life with than your mom or your son? I can personally attest to this.”

Holly stopped talking—purposefully. She wanted to see Ashley’s and John’s reaction. She got what she expected from them: silence and wide-open eyes. The blonde broke the stunned quietness.

“You had a sexual relationship with your son?”

“Yes,” the therapist declared proudly and with a smile. “My son Robert and I were faithful lovers for three years. It was the most emotional, sexual, intense and pleasurable experience of my life. It was also thrilling because of the forbidden, incestuous nature. His touch, taste, virility, and passion to please me as well as himself was beyond ‘new’ for me. His loving was just the right prescription for my neglected body.”

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Ashley continued her query. “‘Neglected?’”


“My husband cheated on me—a lot,” the psychologist addressed. She then leaned forward and gently put her hand on the mother’s bent knee. She tilted her head and offered the parent a supportive look. “So I know exactly what you’ve been through, my dear Ashley.”

A second silence fell over the room. It seemed like all three individuals were drawn to Holly’s hand on Ashley’s knee. While it appeared to be a gesture of support and generally was, the touch also had a profound effect on each person’s psyche. For the psychologist, it was a way to touch another woman in a semi-intimate way. (It was something she hadn’t done for years and the hidden Sappho feelings she still harbored were happily rekindled.) Feeling another woman’s skin, aside from the accepted handshake or hug, stimulated the therapist. She found both this son and mother very attractive. Her hand on the divorcee’s flesh released mental images filled with wonder…wonder of what Ashley looked like bare, how she responded to having her breasts felt, how her pussy tasted, how she sounded when she was orgasming—was she a screamer? Did she squirt? Holly’s cunt was becoming moist.

For Ashley it was also a measure of support—and a reawakening of her infrequent and very private wonderings of ‘being’ with another woman. The blonde never indulged her bi-curiosity, but that curiosity remained within her sexual mind. Looking back at the therapist’s caring yet unusual gaze, Ashley saw a woman who was very much like her: 40’s, professional, wounded by a carousing spouse…and alluring. It played on her own mind that she found the psychologist appealing. Women often will compliment another female’s beauty without the slightest hint of being sexually attracted to the recipient of the compliment—at least consciously. Ashley, in her need and want to overcome her objections to being her son’s lover, was now faced with the additional element of finding this ravishing redhead sexually handsome. The gusset of the divorcee’s panties had started to become damp.

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John had long been a fan of beautiful lesbians or bisexual women. He had often jerked off to sights and visions of sexy women touching each other, kissing, rubbing breasts and nipples together, going down on each other and wailing in delight to girl-on-girl pleasure. The sight of the therapist’s hand on his mother’s knee had his dick aching and twitching. Both women were hot. He was emotionally and sexually in love with his mother and if things worked out, he would be always faithful to her (unlike his shithead father.) Being a man—and a young man, at that—he recognized the good looks of another woman. In this case it was Holly. His fevered mind already had a lured vision of her and his mother, the two naked, and on the carpet before him in a sensual 69, his presence long forgotten by both women as they ate each other out. Hearing the psychologist’s own incestuous revelation excited him to know that another hot mom was bedding her son. He wanted to know more.

“So how did it start?”

“Robert was just two years older than you, John. He was a gifted athlete in school, and a Dean’s List member.” The redhead chuckled at what she was going to say next. “And what a ‘member’…he had. Plus great looks and personality.


“The first time we made love was right after I discovered my husband was on his fourth girlfriend. I threw the bastard out of the house.” ‘The bastard’ had an evil tone to it and was the first time the doctor did not display her cool, professional manner.

“I was crying and a wreck. Rob held me, comforted me. He reassured me everything was going to be ok. He also said that if he was his father he would never cheat on me. ‘I would have no reason to, not with such a magnificently looking lady’ like me, he stated.

“I adored the compliment. Being in his arms was so soothing, safe, and comforting. I cannot remember the last time my husband held me tenderly like that. I looked into my son’s beautiful eyes, and at his rugged face. I felt such love. The smell of his Calvin Klein cologne Obsession for Men—oh, I love that one—took me away from the pain. Then I felt his penis get hard against me. He was soooo mortified. He jumped up from the living room couch where we were sitting, screaming apologies. I heard the apologies, but I didn’t listen. I was so mesmerized by his erection. It stood so tall and proud through his jeans. The sight of a big fat ‘one’—made big and fat through contact with my body—had my sexual being take flight. I was wet like a dish rag.

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“I calmed him down and told him how appreciative I was that he found me arousing. I kissed him lightly on the mouth. Then a little heavier. Before you know it, we were Frenching like Parisians. Hands were everywhere. Clothes were on the floor soon after. Then we fucked like two alley cats.”

The parent asked “What happen? Why did it last only three years?” John nodded his head in agreement with his mother’s inquiry.

At first, Holly was quiet. Then she began to sniffle, and a tear streamed down her face.


“A drunk driver’s hit him as he was crossing the street near his college. He died in the ambulance on the way to the ER.” More tears fell from Holly’s eyes. It was all she could do from completely loosing it.

“That is why,” the clinician began as she regained her composure, “that is why I do what I do. I found very unconventional but very satisfying love—from my son after discovering the years of my ex’s infidelity. I want other mothers who have been ignored and discarded by their husbands, or widows, to know how wonderful consensual incest can be. It is pure satisfaction and joy for a single mom to be loved by her son if he offers it, and to hell with societal hindrances. As long as no gets hurt or there is no force—it’s no one’s business if a mother and son act as husband and wife in the privacy of their home.”

Holly’s personal history and strong belief greatly decreased Ashley’s objections, though some still lingered. John felt justified in his feelings and desire. He was going to say, “You see, Mom?” but it appeared the psychologist was going to reestablish the clinical nature of the visit. She wiped away the tears, shook her head as if removing cobwebs, cleared her throat and looked at his mother.

“Ashley, what is about your son that you find attractive?”

A flush seemed to awash over the blonde’s face as she answered. “His looks. His character. His romantic and faithful way he was with his girlfriend. He bought her flowers and gifts. I LOVE that. I wished I was the recipient.”

“‘Was,’ ‘bought’—you’re speaking in past tense? He isn’t dating this girl anymore?”


The parent answered, “No.”

Holly looked at John. “How come you broke it off with your girlfriend?”

He was self-assured in his reply. “I want to be with Mom.”

Ashley looked touched. The psychologist was impressed, and saw such a parallel between John and her late son.

The mother cleared her throat, signaling her intent to continue. The therapist couldn’t help but notice a new facial expression on Ashley. She looked like she was about to say something naughty, and enjoy saying it.

“Also, I liked the way he made love to her.”


The last description caught both John and Holly by surprise. The therapist naturally asked, “You watched your son have sex with his girlfriend?”

The divorcee nodded, displaying a mischievous grin.

“You watched me and Daisy?” John asked. His timbre was slightly loud and a mixture of surprise and arousal. He continued the inquisition. “At the house? When?”

This is getting spicy zipped across the psychologist’s mind. She wanted to lick her lips in auditory anticipation but settled for uncrossing then crossing her legs to enable her supple thighs to rub against one another in a brief attempt to quell the brewing heat between them.

“Yes, it was at the house,” Ashley continued, “It was 4th of July weekend.”

“Sounds like an explosive moment,” Holly quipped at her.


The blonde picked up on the joke and returned with “There were more fireworks inside the house than outside on the street.” Both women chuckled at the double entendre.

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“Explosive?” the redhead jokingly asked.

In synch with the running joke and the comfort of the psychologist, Ashley kept the naughty look and nodded with an “Ah uh.”

With aching nipples, Holly asked, “Did you see ‘it’?”

A dreamy look came over the divorcee. She shared it with her son, then with the clinician. “Oh yeahhhh,” she confidently and sexily responded.

“Describe your son’s penis, Ashley.” Holly’s need to know this was actually more personal than clinical.


“It’s a divorcee’s dream! It’s about seven inches—no more. It’s not too skinny and not too wide. It has good length and girth. The top of it reminded me of a plumb.”

John, meanwhile, was speechless, dumbfounded, and turned on. His gorgeous, horny, voyeuristic mother was describing his tool while he was screwing his girlfriend to another gorgeous MILF. Currently, that tool was having blood rushed to it faster than in a trauma center.

“But, Holly, it just wasn’t his prick.” (Holly? It surprised him and amused the doctor how the mother went from ‘Dr. Connor’ to ‘Holly’ while decadently recalling seeing her son banging his girl.) “It was his tongue.”

In a girlish tone, Holly inquired, “What do you mean?”

“I started spying on them when he was just finishing eating out Daisy. From the angle of where I was standing, his tongue was working overtime at licking her pussy. It was like he was enjoying an ice-cream cone. Forget ‘enjoying.’ He was OBSESSED with lapping at her and sticking it into her just like a dick. She screamed things like, ‘Oh yes, John! You eat my pussy so fucking good!’ Between her moans and the way she was writhing around, I figured my son to be an oral expert. I didn’t even get a chance to rub my cunt. Watching my son eat out his girlfriend gave me an orgasm—and I didn’t even touch myself!”

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