I'm a Whore, an Incestuous Whore

Forty-five-year-old MILF of a mother, Grace, sexually seduced her handsome, 21-year-old son, Timothy. Deliberately sexually teasing him, I pretended that I was drunk and sleeping while laying my head on his lap.

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Author’s Note:

Grace asked me to write her this true story about her having sex with her son, Timothy.

Sexually aroused before, she’s racked with guilt, shame, and remorse now. Grace felt embarrassed for being a horny and sexually frustrated woman enough to have had incestuous sex with her son. Unable to control her passionate, sex drive, and sexual desire for Timothy, she was sexually lonely enough to have had sex with him. With Timothy happy to have had sex with his mother, she’s devastated by her perversely perverted actions to have had incestuous sex with him.

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‘I’m so embarrassed,’ she thought. ‘I’m so ashamed. Why would I do such a thing? How could I do such a thing? How dare I allow my son to take sexually advantage of me while I pretended to be drunk and sleeping. I’ll never forgive myself,’ she thought.

She relived everything that she did with her son and that she allowed him to do to her.

‘I can’t believe that I not only blew my son but also, I allowed him to cum in my mouth,’ she thought. ‘I even swallowed his cum. If that wasn’t enough, I allowed him to eat my pussy and fuck me. I can’t believe that I not only allowed Timothy to stick his tongue in my pussy, I allowed him to stick his big, erect prick in my warm, wet cunt, his mother’s cunt.’

Going over it all in her mind again, she was devastated by her perversely perverted, sexually incestuous actions.

‘Again, if that still wasn’t enough with him cumming in my mouth, he also allowed him to ejaculate cum in my pussy, too,’ she thought. ‘Showing him the whore that I am, I allowed him to give me multiple, sexual orgasms, one with his fingers, a second one with his tongue, and a third one with his cock. What’s wrong with me to have taken sexual advantage of my son? How dare I have sex with Timothy?’ ‘I’m a whore. I’m such an Incestuous whore,’ thought his mother.

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Honestly, I’ve never been sexually attracted to my son. Even after I caught him masturbating in his bedroom and saw his erect, naked cock numerous times, I didn’t feel anything except for embarrassment for him and shame for myself that I not only looked but also, I stared. Something that a mother should never do, I stared at my son’s erect, naked prick. I couldn’t believe that I was sexually frustrated and horny enough to have stared at my son’s erect, naked prick while he stroked himself.

Seemingly, nearly every time I delivered his laundry, with me opening his bedroom door without knocking, he’d be lying on his bed and on his back. Something that I was sexually shocked to see, he’d be naked with his eyes closed. He’d have his headphones on and his hand stroking his big, erect prick. Stunned, proving to myself what a big whore that I had become, all I could do was to stare. Having been years since I’ve seen a man naked, I couldn’t remove my eyes from my son’s naked prick.

‘With me always catching him when he was naked and masturbating himself, did he want me to catch him masturbating,’ I wondered? ‘Did he want me to see his big, erect prick? Did he want me to watch him cum? Something that I thought that I’d never want to do, to be honest, I’d love to see my son cum. Yet, having second thoughts, I feared that he’d suddenly open his eyes and catch me in his room watching him masturbate himself. How embarrassing would that be,’ I thought?’

I caught him masturbating so many times that I wondered if he had deliberately flashed me. Perhaps, as soon as he heard me climbing the stairs and walking towards his room, he stripped himself naked, donned his headphones, closed his eyes, and wrapped his hand around his prick while stroking it. Perhaps, he wanted me to see his naked penis. Perhaps, he hoped that I’d stay and watch him masturbating long enough to see him cum.

Perhaps, he hoped that I’d take his big dick in my hand and stroke him. Perhaps, he thought that I’d take his erect penis in my mouth and suck him. Perhaps, he thought that I’d strip myself naked, mount him, and fuck him. Perhaps, he thought that his mother would have incestuous sex with her son?

Unembarrassed and unashamed, I freely admit that after seeing Timothy’s naked, erect prick one too many times, I masturbated myself but not over my son. I masturbated myself because I was horny and sexually frustrated. I couldn’t remember the last time that I had a stiff prick in my hand, in my mouth, and in my pussy. Before I had stroked, sucked, and fucked my son, I can’t remember the last time that I stroked a man, sucked a man, and/or fucked a man.

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Then, one day, horny as all Hell, when I delivered his laundry, there he was again, masturbating. He was always masturbating. He was always stroking his prick. I wondered what he masturbated over? I wondered who he masturbated over? I wondered if he masturbated over me.

Then, with him adding dialogue to his masturbation sessions, I heard him talking through his bedroom door. If it wasn’t enough that he sexually shocked me by showing me his naked prick, it was even more sexually shocking for me to know that he was masturbating over me. It was sexually arousing to hear all of the sexually incestuous things that he wanted to do to my naked body, his mother’s naked body.

“Oh, mom, I’d love to see you naked. I’d love to see your big, naked breasts. I’d love to see your erect nipples. I’d love to see your shapely, naked ass. I’d love to see your blonde, trimmed, bushy, or bald pussy,” said Timothy loud enough for me to hear him through his bedroom door.

Standing with my ear pressed against his bedroom door, I continued listening while he continued talking.

“I wish you wouldn’t wear a robe of your sexy nightgowns. I’d love to see the shape and the big size of your naked breasts through your sheer nightgown. I’d love to see your erect nipples through your sheer nightgown, too. It would so hot to see the shape and the size of your naked ass, too,” he said.

Now every time that I walked down the hall to deliver his laundry, not only was the house shaking from him masturbating but also, I could clearly hear all that he was saying. I no longer had to press my ear against his bedroom door. I could hear him when walking down the hall.

The first time that I heard him, embarrassing me, I was tempted to turn around and walk back downstairs. Yet, I figured that he was naked and masturbating with his eyes closed while wearing his headphones. Instead, daring myself to do so, I opened his bedroom door and put his laundry on the floor by his closet. When I saw that he was masturbating himself again, instead of immediately leaving, I stayed to watch him stroke his cock. I wanted to see him cum.

Watching my son masturbate himself over imagining me naked and having sex with me made me horny. With him making me so unbearably sexually frustrated, while watching him stroke his cock, I pushed open my robe and felt my breasts while fingering my erect nipples through my nightgown. Then, becoming even more sexually aroused, unable to control myself from touching myself, I lifted the front of my nightgown to expose my naked, blonde, trimmed pussy.

While leaning against his closest door, I rubbed my clit and finger fucked my pussy. I masturbated myself while my son masturbated himself. I watched him stroking himself harder and faster. Then, when I realized that he was about to cum, as if I was a burglar in the night, I silently and stealthily left his bedroom.

Yet, I wondered if my son had been watching me finger my nipples and play with my pussy. I wondered if he had barely opened his eyes enough to see me masturbating myself. Something so humiliating yet something so sexually arousing, I wondered if Timothy had watched me, his mother, masturbate herself. It made me even hornier to think that Timothy had seen my naked pussy. In the way that I saw his naked cock while he stroked himself, how hot would that be for my son to see my naked pussy while I fingered myself?

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My long, sad story short, as if trying to kill himself, with my husband, Bill, a diabetic and unable to stop from drinking beer, with him not even wearing a mask, he caught COVID. Too sick to recover, he succumbed to the fatal virus. A stubborn man, he refused to have his vaccination shots.

He may have survived the pandemic had he worn a mask when in public and had all of his COVID shots. Yet, he assured himself that, in the way that he convinced himself that the government had lied about the AIDS epidemic, they were lying about COVID, too. Instead, he drank at the bar and attended football games without wearing a mask and without having his COVID shots to protect himself from getting the fatal virus.

Because my husband was no longer able to get and maintain an erection, I went years without having sex. He’d rather watch every college football game than to feel and fondle my big breasts while masturbating me. He’d rather watch NFL football than to pay any sexual attention to me. Even though I frequently sucked his cock when he was able to have erections, he never ate my pussy. As if he was afraid of fingering my naked pussy, I can’t even remember the last time he masturbated me.

Then, as my son grew older, he looked more like his father before Bill gained an enormous amount of weight. My husband loved his barbeque as much as he loved his beer. When he wasn’t eating big slabs of rare beef, he ate fast foods. I never saw a man who could eat and drink as much he could consume in a day. As if he was James Gandolfini as Tony Soprano from the Sopranos, our food and alcohol bills were outrageously high because of him.

He refused to diet. He refused to exercise. Whenever we went to the mall, instead of parking further away from the front doors and walk, he endlessly circled the parking lot until he found a closer space. Instead of walking through the mall with me, sometimes he’d wait in the car for me to finish shopping while reading his Gun and Ammo magazine. If he wasn’t going to help me shop, I don’t know why he even came to the mall with me. I could have driven myself to the mall.