Chapter 1: The Seduction of My Mother

My fascination with my hot, sexy, voluptuous, very attractive, hot-bodied, leggy and busty mother began when I was around fourteen years old. That’s when I started to view her as a sex object and not as my mother. All my many masturbation sessions were fuelled by lewd thoughts of my mother running wild in my head. Lewd thoughts I knew I shouldn’t be thinking, but was unable to control.

I guess that’s when my obsession with my mother began. An obsession, that three years later, would lead me to formulate a plan to seduce my mother into fucking for her own son. I was at the point of no return, I had to try. I was willing to suffer whatever consequences occurred. I didn’t want to go through life regretting not at least attempting a pass at my mother and wondering what would have happened.

The following is my story.

At the age of seventeen, my lust for my mother became uncontrollable. Watching her hot body move about the house was driving me crazy.

My mother has a body built like a brick shithouse; a body made for fucking.

She stands 5’6,” 140 pounds (solid not fat), bushy (permed) jet black hair, full sensuous pouty lips, a great ass, killer legs and measures out at an eye popping, mouth watering, 40-28-38.

It was June, right after school had let out for summer break, that I set my seduction plan into motion. I figured that this was the best time, because I could be alone around my mother most of the day, while my father was at work.

My father was one of the reasons, that I even decided to try this plan in the first place. He had received a big promotion at work, about five years earlier, and ever since that time he became a workaholic. He would leave at 7:00am and not return home until 7:30pm, sometimes later, and would go into the office on Saturdays, too. Then on Sundays, he would just lounge around the house and relax, as he was totally exhausted from working all week; not that I blamed him for that.

Of course, this meant that my mother rarely went out, except for family functions, weddings, or the like. I could see that this was having an effect on my mother. She basically had given up on herself and was resigned to the fact that this was the way it was going to be for the rest of her life. She still had her knockout looks intact, but around the house she never put on any makeup and was always dressed in frumpy clothes (house dresses, sweats, etc.). She figured she wasn’t going anywhere, except to the store, so why dress up; not that my mother dressed sexily anyway. My mother was your normal, average, everyday wife and mother, who was totally faithful to my father. Even when she went out to functions, she dressed conservatively, wearing dresses just at knee level, or slightly above, and would never reveal any of her ample cleavage. She never wore tight form fitting dresses or outfits and her bathing suits were all one-piece. But even dressed this way, she still looked sexy as hell and turned heads wherever she went.

I figured if I ever had a chance with her, the time was now. I knew she was vulnerable, but I didn’t care. I was going to take advantage of any weakness she may have had to accomplish my goal. I had often hoped to come home early from school and catch her in bed with another man, so I could use that against her. But that never happened, as I told you previously, she was totally faithful to my father. But I hoped to change all of that.

So I came up with a plan that would either blow up in my face or get my mother thinking in a whole new way.

My plan involved the use of forum type incest books, that contained letters and stories from actual persons involved in all kinds of incestuous affairs. The titles of these books were “Family Secrets” and “Family Letters.” I had been buying them on newsstands for the past six months, and had twelve of them. Luckily, I looked older than 17, and the guy at the newsstand never asked me for proof of age. I had kept them locked up in a sports bag inside my closet, but it was now time to bring them out and make my mother ‘accidentally’ find them, then wait for her reaction or explosion.

When my mother did my laundry, she would always put my underwear and socks away for me, in my dresser drawer. So what I did was place four books all the way in the back of that drawer, and position them in such a way, that I would know if they had been moved or not. Then I took one book and placed it underneath my underwear, right in the middle of the drawer, cover side up. I then slightly parted the underwear, so the book and its title would be visible when the drawer was opened. To check that out, I opened and reopened the drawer several times and every time the book was staring me in the face. Then I placed the other books in the back of a couple of different drawers, also positioned in a way so I would know if my mother had found them or not.

My plan was all set, now all I had to do was wait for laundry day.

That day arrived two days later. I was eating breakfast and my mother asked if I had any more dirty laundry besides what was in the hamper. I told her I didn’t, then quickly finished my breakfast, hurriedly dressed, and told my mother I was going to the park and would be back for lunch about 12:30pm.

As I arrived back home a little after 12:30pm, I don’t have to tell you my heart was beating a mile a minute and I was as nervous as hell. I had no idea what fate awaited me when I opened the door to walk inside.

After entering the house, I walked into the kitchen and said hello to my mother. She answered me in a very low tone and didn’t even look up at me when she said that. That was a far cry from her normal demeanour, as she was always very jovial with me and upbeat. I told her I’d be right down for lunch and went upstairs to my room, and checked the drawer. My mother had placed fresh underwear in there and then I discovered something else too; the books in the middle and the back of the drawer had been moved, as had the books I had placed in the other drawers.

Well, my mother had definitely found the books, but did she read them?

When I went downstairs for lunch, my mother was very quiet, but didn’t say anything about the books to me. For the rest of the afternoon, I was on pins and needles, wondering what was going through my mother’s mind. Then I started thinking, maybe she was going to tell my father when he got home and make him speak to me. Well, my father got home that night, ate his dinner and everything was normal as usual. Not one word was mentioned about the books from either my mother or father.

Could it be that my mother didn’t tell my father? I was now mystified, what was my mother thinking?

The next day my mother was still very quiet with me, I went out again, came back for lunch and again found the books moved. My mother was reading the books.

That scenario was repeated for the next week and a half. My mother hadn’t told my father, didn’t talk about or mention the books to me, was still being quiet with me and was reading the books every time I went out.

Then my mother started to come out of her shell with me. She began talking more to me and joking around as she usually did, but still no mention of the books.