Mom-Son: A Love Story

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Sex stories, mom and son, love story.. It was a couple of days after my son’s eighteenth birthday when I realized I wanted to have sex with him.

I know…I know…it is completely wrong, sick and twisted…I told myself the same thing at first.

To explain my strange sexual hunger, my son, Paul, is a complete ringer for his father, Darren, who died in a car accident when Paul was only three. He had the same blue eyes, the same blonde hair and the same dazzling smile.

I had known these facts for years, but as he turned from an adolescent to a man it became even more apparent.

That all said, I had never considered sex with him at all until I accidentally walked in on him sitting at his computer as he stroked his cock. I could argue it wasn’t him I wanted, but just a cock to pound away the cobwebs of my long neglected pussy. Yet, the reality is, putting the pieces together of his good looks, his exact replica voice and his identical big cock, it was definitely him I wanted…it was like I could relive my late teenage years when I originally started dating Darren…or in a morbid sense relive my marriage to the only person I had ever truly loved.

I apologized profusely for not knocking, and it was obvious that Paul was as embarrassed as I was. Yet, that night I couldn’t stop replaying the brief encounter in my mind. At first I was mortified by what I saw…then as I laid in bed trying to fall asleep, my mind began playing tricks on me. Every time I closed my eyes and began to try and reach slumber, my son stroking his completely erect, thick cock popped into my head. I would immediately jolt up and shake my head for thinking such an inappropriate thought…yet as soon as I laid back down and closed my eyes the exact same scene would repeat itself…I was in the incest version of the Groundhog Day movie. Eventually, out of sheer exhaustion, I fell asleep. Obviously, it wasn’t a great night’s sleep.

The next morning, Paul and I pretended it didn’t happen, but, of course, you can’t erase the past, and an unacknowledged awkwardness began between us.

Over the next month, even as my morals argued it was completely wrong…my too long ignored libido screamed it was okay. I began pleasuring myself while imagining my vibrator was Paul’s cock fucking me. I sucked my dildo imagining it was Paul’s cock I was sucking.

Whenever I looked at Paul, I saw Darren.

Whenever I talked to Paul, I heard Darren.

It became unhealthy and obsessive, and it soon began to consume all my thoughts and dreams.

I regressed to my teen years as I began, inadvertently at first, attempting to entice my son, like I had his father all those years ago.

Although I wasn’t as thin as my perfect body cheerleading days, I was still in decent shape. Sure I could lose a few pounds, but who couldn’t? The beginning of grey was showing up in my black as night hair, but so far I hadn’t thought it showed enough to dye it. I had always been slightly chubby, being big-boned like my father, thus I had large, all natural, 38DD breasts and a wide ass. Conversely though, I have long thin legs which had both breast men and leg men often checking me out.

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