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Camilla is the most beautiful woman I know. Most people wouldn’t go that far. That’s what love does. I don’t know if love or the sexual desire came first, and it probably doesn’t matter. I’m not talking about the usual love a son has for his mother. Very early on I knew that what I felt was different, and I never thought that I was wrong to feel it. Right from puberty I was very well adjusted to my maladjustment.
Camilla and I lived in New England without family and a smattering of friendly neighbors. Roy came and lived with us when I was seven, and left when I was sixteen. Roy filled in for my biological father who died when I was three. I wouldn’t say we were close, but we stayed out of each other’s way enough to make it a better relationship than some of my friends had with their ‘Real’ fathers. He usually came through when I needed him.
The thing I had for Camilla started as soon as I could feel what the word ‘Sexy’ meant. I think that concept starts in the eyes. Mom has sleepy eyes that seem to be an invitation; I guess that’s why they call them bedroom eyes. It’s more than fine when a woman has nice tits, great legs and all that. But that’s not what makes someone sexy. It’s how they carry themselves, and how they make you feel when they look at you.
It wasn’t until I was older that I realized she had a killer body. Again, most people wouldn’t go that far. It wasn’t showy. In her clothes she looked more average than not. When I saw her in the bathroom getting dressed to go out one evening, I thought I had glimpsed perfection. To me she was a dime. She wasn’t wearing a bra, but she was wearing panties, stockings, and heels. Oh my God.
Her breasts were a nice handful, long rather than round. Her nipples were large and capped the ends fully. Her legs were perfect, her ass was perfect, her skin was perfect. What can I say? I loved her by then, and then I loved her more.
I thought about her too much, if you consider all the time too much. Getting meshed with my mother filled my fantasies. I can’t remember fantasizing about anyone else once I started on her. Watching her cooking, watching her walking, watching her watching TV, all fed the insatiable and inexhaustible scenarios I made up for us to engage in. No matter how bad a day I had, or how lonely I was, she would be waiting in my fantasy, dressed for sex, and saying something like, “It’s okay baby, you’ll feel better after you come in mommy’s mouth.” And I did feel better, even if it wasn’t real.
It got so bad I started believing it myself. And when I would look at her I would think, ‘How could she not know, how could she not feel what I feel, how could she not want what I want?’ I was amazed at how normal our concerns and conversations were. And when we fought about the things mothers and sons fight over, and I was yelling at her, I knew that I was angry because I wasn’t getting what I really wanted.
Mom was a bit of a neat freak and I’d heard the phrase, ‘A place for everything and everything in its place,’ one too many times, but it didn’t really matter how many times she said that or, ‘Matt, I need you to do this or that, Matt put this stuff away, Matt don’t go out during the week, Matt be nice.’ None of it mattered. The only thing that mattered was that Matt wanted his mother.
By the time I was eighteen, my friends and I had taken to drinking on the weekends. It escalated to a point where we got blasted beyond repair every Friday night. I hid it pretty well because mom didn’t give me a hard time about coming home late on weekends, and I slept late enough the next day for it to wear off.
On the worst of these nights I walked into the house crunked in a stinking stupor. Mom was asleep on the couch with the TV on. I stood over her and looked while a current of electricity ramped up inside me. Her skirt was hiked up, displaying most of her creamy thighs. Her breasts were pressed together and some of her tit-flesh overflowed her bra. In reality, I wasn’t seeing a hell of a lot, but it was enough to make me hear my own breath.
I wanted to reach in and take out her tit so I could suck on it. I wanted to take out my hardened cock and put it in her mouth. I wanted to push up her skirt and pull her panties down. And fuck her. I wanted. And there was a part of me that was telling me to take what I wanted. I walked away with the TV saying “Act now,” because there was only one minute left to buy whatever they were selling.
After that night, I became wary of my own feelings, I started to think that maybe I was losing control of my fantasies. I wanted her so badly; I wasn’t sure what I could do to make them come true. In that alcohol fed state all I could think of was taking her. The thought of hurting my mother or forcing her to do something she didn’t want to, was enough to scare me. I didn’t get drunk after that night, but I knew I had to get away.
The next day I said to mom, “I spoke to Roy and he said that I could stay with him; that’s what I want to do.”
She bursa escort said, “Don’t do that honey, just because we had a little fight, it doesn’t mean anything, and he can’t take care of you.”
“I don’t need him to,” I said. “I only need a place to stay. One way or another I’m leaving mom, so you can be a pain about it, or just let me go.”
She started to cry and said, “I can’t do anything right; I can’t even be a mother.”
I felt like a shit, but I knew I had to leave. I said, “Mom, it’s not because of the fight, or because of you. I just need to be alone for a while, away from this house. Look, I’ll come over and see you; I’ll only be across town. And anyway, I know how tight things are for you with them cutting back your time at work, and Roy said he’d pay for my stuff until I graduate.” She cried. I wanted to hold her. I saw myself kissing her, caressing her, fucking her. I knew it was time to go.
Not living with Camilla made some things easier and some more difficult. I looked forward to seeing her and spending time with her, but I knew I couldn’t be that close to her all the time. She didn’t. She always hinted at how well we were getting along, and that I should think about moving back. I always equivocated.
I think I started growing up at Roy’s because he gave me my independence, as long as I was responsible. I also grew up because of Bunny Spane. Bunny was a photographer that had an on and off thing going with Roy. She was probably a few years older than my mom, with tits too big to be real. She stayed over a lot and liked to talk all the time. Roy said it drove him crazy, but I liked that about her, because she would talk about anything and everything, and I learned a lot about women from talking to her. And since she was bi, I got different perspectives from our conversations. She even got me a few dates with some of the models. Nothing came of it but I definitely got comfortable around women, even if it was just to talk. The most serious I got was with a girl named Carol that I was with for five months who said I was never really ‘There.’ I guess it was true that I wasn’t with her the way she wanted me to be, and so we broke up.
Mom came to my graduation and so did Roy. He even made a half-hearted play for her, but she didn’t forget that he cheated on her. He told me about it while I stayed with him and said he’d made a mistake. I never confided in him or Bunny how I felt about mom. But about a month later, I confided in her.
I’d made a few bucks from the training program I was in, I was no longer a minor, and I felt a confidence I never had before. I was planning on finding a place of my own as soon as I could afford it. So I felt on top of it all when I went to my mother’s for dinner. Maybe I wouldn’t have said anything if she didn’t look so hot. It wasn’t as if she was walking around in lingerie or anything, but she had make-up on, and her legs looked so long in that pencil skirt, and her tits looked so touchable in that tighter than usual top.
We were having a beer with the casserole she’d made and I said, “Mom, you look so good.”
She smiled and said, “Well, well.”
I said. “I wish you weren’t my mother.” That ended her smile and a terrible painful look crossed her face that I thought would bring her to tears.
I said, “No mom, I didn’t mean it like that, I’m glad you’re my mother, but I wish we could be more than just a mother and son.” She was baffled, and I could have stopped there with some lame remark about being friends or something, but I wanted her to know. I said “I love you mom.” That cleared up nothing because I had rarely said it to her, maybe because I was afraid she’d hear it the way I meant it.
She looked at with an ‘Are you okay?’ look, and said, “Honey…”
I said, “Let me just tell you something. You’re probably not going to like it, but I’m going to say it and then if you want me leave, I’ll go. Mom I love you, and I’ve loved you for a long time…like a man loves a woman.” She was at a loss. I said, “That’s why I had to move out mom, I couldn’t stand wanting you that way, looking at you, and not having you.”
Finally she gathered herself. To her credit she didn’t make believe she didn’t know what I was talking about. She didn’t say anything for a moment and I said, “Is that such a terrible thing mom?”
“No, Matt, it’s not terrible…I guess other boys get a crush on their mothers sometimes, but you were young then, why wouldn’t you be thinking about girls your own age?”
I said, “I was old enough; not that it matters…I don’t know mom, ever since I can remember it’s always been you…I want you.”
She was obviously searching for something to say, and she gave a wan smile and said, “It’s just a crush Mattie, you’ll…”
“Mom, it’s not a crush, I love you. And I see how unhappy you are, and I want to make you feel good, and I want to feel good with you. I know it’s a crazy fantasy, but I think we could make each other happy. Mom, I’m as miserable as bursa escort bayan you are.”
“Oh sweetheart, I’m sorry. I just don’t know what to say, you tell me this, and I want to be here for you, but this is something I can’t even get my mind around. I don’t know what you want me to do.”
To me it was obvious, but I wasn’t ready to say the words, so I said, “I just want to be able to talk to you and tell you, and stop acting like things aren’t the way they are for me. Just tell me if we can at least talk about this sometime, it doesn’t have to be now.”
She said, “Okay,” but she was obviously still shell-shocked.
I said, “Thanks. Maybe I’ll take off now. I’ll call you.” and I left.
I had gotten two blocks from her house when my cell rang and mom said, “Matt, I do want to talk to you; I don’t want you to keep any of this from me. Would you please come back for a little while so we don’t leave everything in a mess?”
I said, “Sure mom.”
When I got back we sat together on the couch and mom said, “You said I was unhappy, and you’re right. And one of the reasons is that you left, I missed you Mattie; at least now I understand some of why you went, but I don’t want to lose you forever. So let’s talk, but promise me you’ll never do that again, go away without talking to me, no matter what it’s about.”
I said, “I just didn’t know what to do then, I always wanted to tell you.”
She said, “Okay baby, and promise me you’ll give me time to absorb the shock from this bomb you just exploded in our living room.”
I laughed, “Okay mom.”
We talked for about two hours. Without being graphic, I told her I loved her and I wanted her. She listened and asked me about the when, what, and where, until she seemed to acclimate enough to the idea that I wasn’t an alien that had taken over her son. She said, “The only inkling I had about any of this was the way you looked at me sometimes. I guess I felt it was sexual, but I thought it was…normal.”
I sort of snickered, “To me it was normal; you looked hot.”
She raised her eyebrows, shook her head side to side and said, “I don’t know where you get that idea.” We were both getting tired from the late hour and the emotional strain and I stood up and said, “I think I’ll go now mom and we can talk again.” When she stood I said, “But would you just do one thing for me, let me kiss you once, the way I’ve always wanted to?”
She said, “Alright baby.” I leaned to her and she closed her eyes. I kissed her gently, not wanting to overdo it. Her mouth was slightly open and I slid my tongue between her lips only to the point where it touched the tip of her tongue.” She made a small sound I wasn’t sure of. I broke the kiss and said, “Thanks mom; was it terrible for you?”
She said, “Of course not baby, it was very…loving.” I gave her a hug and enjoyed her body against me. I didn’t let her feel my hard-on against her.
The next time we spoke on the phone, mom was worried about her job. She’d heard that some people were going to be cut and she didn’t what she would do if it happened. I said, “I can help you out mom, I’m doing pretty good.”
She said, “Oh no, thanks sweetheart, I’m okay for now.” I really wanted to help out, but in reality, I didn’t have that much extra cash. But I did get an idea. I spoke to Bunny Spane.
I called mom and said, “Invite me to dinner tonight.”
She laughed, “Of course you’re invited, you’re always invited; you don’t have to call, just come.”
When I got there I said, “I know how you can make some decent money.”
She said, “How?”
I said, “Pose.”
She said, “What?”
I said “Listen, I know you don’t think you’re hot, but you are.”
She said, “You my boy, are nuts.” She laughed. “Pose for whom? Do I look like an eighteen year old Playboy Bunny?”
I said, “Mom I’m not kidding and I’m not nuts, but there is a Bunny involved. It’s for an internet site of MILF’s.”
She said, “What’s that?”
I said, “It doesn’t matter, just listen. This is not hardcore or anything like that. It’s more of a glamour thing. I know this woman Bunny who’s a photographer for different internet magazines. One of them shows mature women in lingerie, stockings, corsets, stuff like that. I showed her a couple of pictures of you from the beach and she like them.”
Mom said, “You showed her pictures? How do you know her?”
I didn’t know if I should mention Roy but I figured it was best to be straight with her so I said, “I know her from Roy, and she’s okay, a really nice person. Anyway, she said she’d take some pictures of you at her studio, and if she likes the way they come out, in a few months you could make enough to pay off everything you owe. And nothing goes on until you sign a release, so you can say no at any time.”
Mom looked at me like I was crazy. “You think I’m going to pose nude and have it shown on some porn site?”
“Mom, I said it was just tease, not nude. And if it doesn’t work escort bursa out, or you decide not to do it after you meet Bunny, it’s all off.” It took me a while to convince her that she was good looking enough, and that she could do it, but the fact that she could be ahead of the money game for once finally turned the tide. I made an appointment for her.
I told mom that Bunny had outfits, or she could bring her own and she said, “I guess I’ll pick something up.”
When I asked if she wanted me to go with her, she said, “No silly.”
I said, “I’d love to see in those outfits.”
When she answered, “You’ll see it when we go over there,” my heart thumped because I didn’t think she was going to let me watch her as she posed.
As we drove there, I said, “Mom, I didn’t tell Bunny that I was your son, I just said you were a woman I know.”
I wasn’t sure how that would sit with her, but she said, “That’s fine.”
Bunny was her usual sweet, outrageous self when we arrived. We all had some wine and talked. Then she showed mom to the dressing room where she could change. When mom came out I was stoked. She had on black strappy heels and thigh high stockings that were vertically striped with alternate thin bands of black and grey sheer nylon. She had a black short slip on that ended above her stocking tops.
Bunny sized her up and said “Not bad, I love the shoes and stockings, but I’m not sure about that top. Wait a minute.” She went into another room and came back with a black and white teddy. She said, “Try this Camilla, I think it’ll work for you.”
Mom went back into the dressing room and said, “I don’t know Bunny, this may be too tight…and too much for me.”
Bunny said, “Oh come on, let us just see it.”
Mom came out and it was off the hook. The soft top of the teddy held mom’s tits and made them look heavy. The material was tight enough so I could make out the outline of her big nipples. “Bunny said, “Oh, much better, now you look like a piece of ass.” Mom laughed.
Bunny posed her in different moods to see what worked. She took a few shots of her looking sad, shy, dominant, and it wasn’t until she made mom laugh, that things seemed to click for Bunny. She told her silly jokes like the one about the young polar bear at the North Pole that keeps asking his parents if he’s a polar bear. When they want to know why he keeps asking, he says, “Because I’m fucking freezing.” Mom laughed and had big grins on her face and Bunny kept shooting as she kept talking. When it was over, mom had a great time, and I had a hard-on.
Mom went into the dressing room and Bunny said to me, “Hey Matt, your girlfriend’s got a great ass, and as I’m sure you know, definitely fuckable. If you ever give her up, tell her to give me a call.” As we were leaving, I thought how when someone says something like that it can make you aware of something you know, but don’t think about. I had never fixated on mom’s ass, but I realized from her poses, she had an amazing well shaped butt. I knew it would find its way into a fantasy soon enough.
When we were in the car on the way home, I said, “Do you know what Bunny said to me?”
She said, “What,” warily.
I said, “She said you had a great ass and were definitely fuckable.”
She raised her eyebrows, covered her mouth and then laughed. I said seriously, “You do, and you are, mom.”
She shook her head, smiled and said, “Boy you are naughty aren’t you?” Naughty was much too mild for what I was picturing.
And talking about picturing, the next week, Bunny told me that they came out great, and she had sent a set to mom. Mom didn’t offer to show them to me, but when I went over one night, I asked if I could see them. She reluctantly said okay. I said, “I’ll bet I know where they are.”
She said, “Where?”
I said, “In your underwear drawer.” She laughed out loud and said, “How did you know?”
I said, “Mom, come on, you’re so organized, that would be the best place to hide them and file them at the same time.” Really I had taken a guess, but she got a big kick out of it.
When I saw them, she looked more like a model than a mom. I said, “Now tell me, do you look hot or not?”
She said, “Oh Bunny just made me look good.” She looked better than good to me. Bunny had definitely captured the sweet vulnerability in mom’s smile, and she definitely looked fuckable. I asked mom for a couple of the pictures and she said, “Okay, but if you show them to anybody, I’ll kill you.”
We talked for a bit and I was jazzed from looking at the photos and then I got kind of quiet when I thought I’d probably never see her taking things like that off for me. She said “What are you thinking about Mattie?”
I said, “When you were in school mom, did you ever have trouble going out with guys you liked?”
She thought for a minute and said, “I guess, not really.”
I said, “It’s different for a guy who likes someone he can’t have.”
She said, “But I know what it’s like to not have the person you’re looking for, the right person…I haven’t been with a right person since your father died.”
I said, “Well then I guess you do know how I feel.” I just looked at her.
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