Chapter 1

My grandmother, Claire, of Chinese descent, attended college in Paris, where she met Grandpa, who was French. She married him when she was eight months pregnant with my mother, Aria. Grandma Claire was eighteen at the time. Her family disowned her, which bothered her at first, but she loved her husband and the lifestyle beyond China. After her graduation, my grandfather’s company relocated him to America for his business.

Mom grew up in a mixed language environment, picking up a little of each language, but my grandparents spoke mainly English for Mom’s benefit. Mom followed Grandma’s path and became pregnant in high school. I was born right after she graduated. Her boyfriend, my father, quickly left her, having no desire to deal with the responsibilities of a family.

This left Mom in a desperate situation with no income and a child to raise. My grandparents came to the rescue and allowed us to stay with them. Mom secured employment and Gran took care of the house and helped raise me.

I was named after my grandfather, Elias. My grandmother changed her name to Claire from her original Chinese name. I’ve never heard anyone call her Claire or her original name. My mother called her Mom and I always referred to her as Gran. She spent so much time raising me, that sometimes I slipped and would call her Mom. I rarely saw my grandfather as his business required a lot of travel.

Gran was a petite woman, barely five feet tall and she had to weigh less than a hundred pounds. Her legs were thin and her breasts weren’t larger than a softball, but appeared bigger because of her small stature. She wore tight tee-shirts and never a bra, which didn’t have an effect on me when I was little. Gran and Mom loved spending time together and their conversations would change to a mix of English, French and Chinese. I think they did it when they didn’t want me to understand what they were talking about.

When I was thirteen, I heard Mom and Gran having a heated argument. They spoke in mixed languages, so I couldn’t understand what they were saying. Days later, my grandparents moved out and relocated to a city a hundred miles away, leaving the house to my mother. I asked Mom what happened, but she wouldn’t divulge any details, telling me they had to move away, due to my grandfather’s business.

This was the time my interest in girls was piqued. Mom and I connected closer too, due to her having to take Gran’s place in raising me. She devoted all of her free time to me and we were happy to be together. She encouraged me to remain in Boy Scouts and helped me acquire badges and various awards. We were inseparable for the next several years. She took extra vacation time each summer and we’d travel to other states for weeks at a time. Those were my happiest times growing up, traveling with my mom.

My first kiss on the mouth was from my mother. I had earned the God and Country Award in Boy Scouts. The award ceremony was held at the church and it required that a mother kiss her son on the lips during the presentation. It was a strange requirement and most boys dreaded it, but at this point, any kiss was welcome.

When we kissed, she lingered for several seconds. I breathed in deeply, relishing the feel of her full, wet lips. She pulled off and smiled, saying, “Congratulations, Elias. I’m proud of your achievement.”

It was evident that she didn’t enjoy the kiss as much as I did, but I didn’t care. I’d remember that first time forever.

My nightly masturbation fantasy changed to include my mother, reliving our kiss. Mom inherited the best attributes from both races of her parents. She’s tall with a thin frame, flared hips, and long, shapely legs. Her breasts are not huge, but larger than her mother’s. Her facial features lean more toward Chinese and her hair is silky black, the same as her mother’s.

Yes, she’s hot, but she’s much more. She’s intelligent, witty, and has a great sense of humor. Her smile can brighten a room when she walks in.

As I grew older, I paid more attention to her sexy, curvy body. She wore skirts with hemlines that ended at her knees, so I would only catch a brief glimpse of her smooth full thighs when she sat down. On the times she didn’t wear a bra, her breasts pushed up the material, showing no sagging whatsoever.

I can still remember the first time ejaculate erupted from my balls. It happened while whacking off to a mom fantasy involving our kiss and stolen glimpses of her thighs. Several spurts of hot cum shot out my prick when I climaxed, landing on my chest. It surprised me and I yelled, “Whoa! Whoa! Oh shit!”

Soon after, I heard Mom’s footsteps traipsing down the hall. I barely had time to cover up with my sheet, before she opened my door and entered, with a look of concern.

“What’s wrong, sweetie?” inquired my concerned mom, thinking I was hurt.

“Nothing Mom, I’m good. I had a leg cramp,” I hastily told her, not having enough time to think of a good reason for yelling.

“Oh sweetie, that’s too bad. Let me check it out,” she offered as she came over and pushed the sheet off my calf. Her hot hands massaged my exposed leg like she was working out a cramp. I froze solid as my cum oozed through the sheet and she had to have noticed my pungent cum scent.

After a couple minutes of smooth caressing, I told her, “It’s good Mom, it wasn’t a bad one.” Her stroking had an effect on me and I had to get rid of her before my prick tented up the sheet in front of her.

She rose, pecked me on the cheek, and turned to leave. I’m sure she noticed the wet spots on the sheet and the rising lump in reaction to her caressing, but she only smirked and left without remarking. I laughed, thinking of how my first load of cum was the result from a fantasy of kissing my Mom, from a Boy Scout award. A God and Country award at that; religion does work in mysterious ways.

I started dating girls my age, thinking my mom fantasies would go away as I matured. I compared each date to Mom and never found any close contenders, physically or intellectually. My dating slowed up through the months, as I preferred to spend more time with Mom.

Mom always planned something special for certain occasions and on my eighteenth birthday she drove us to a play in town, followed by a nice meal. Her dress revealed an ample amount of cleavage and her skirt hemline fell several inches above her knees. I didn’t pay attention to the play as I covertly checked out my beautiful mother. She leaned into me partway through the play, resting her head on my shoulder. Her silky hair felt wonderful on my cheek and her perfume drove me crazy.

When we arrived home, she embraced me and tightly hugged me for my birthday. When I felt her meaty, braless tits press into my chest, I knew it would be used in future masturbatory sessions. She released me and lightly kissed me briefly on the lips, wishing me a happy birthday. Later, for my birthday present, I stroked off three times before falling asleep.

I graduated, landed an internship at Mom’s company and continued to live at home. Mom never hinted or discussed why I hadn’t moved out on my own. We continued to spend all of our time together, bonding closer. She hugged me tightly whenever we’d arrive home from an outing or before going to bed. It was exciting to hold her and smell her scent and whenever possible I would gently press my hard erection into her. She didn’t physically advance our relationship, and I was afraid of initiating anything in case I’d destroy the connection we enjoyed.

My physical relationship with Mom was restricted to my masturbation fantasies. I accumulated plenty of stroking fuel from stealing glimpses of her bare thighs and legs when we’d go out together. She was content with our situation and never questioned why I no longer went out with any girls. The months flew by and I successfully completed my internship.

I had an interview with the same company, resulting in securing a full-time position, which began in two months. I was elated, not only for the offer, but also looked forward to spending more time with Mom. My nineteenth birthday was quickly arriving and I looked forward to an evening with her.

I was off for only a few days when my grandfather died. My mother and Gran had rarely talked to each other since they moved out. Gran called and talked at length with Mom after his death. Mom’s spirits elevated during their conversation and it appeared this event would help mend their relationship. Gran asked us to attend the funeral and offered her house so we could spend the night, but Mom declined and decided to rent a hotel room. She didn’t want to burden Gran with taking care of us when she’d be busy dealing with Grandpa’s arrangements.

We drove up and checked into a nice hotel. It was fully booked and we were lucky to get the last room. It was a suite with a king-sized bed in the bedroom and a couch in the front room. When we entered, I offered to sleep on the couch. Mom pronounced, “No, you won’t. We’ve slept in the same bed on our summer trips before. This is no different. Unless you think I’m going to snore and keep you awake.”

She was right. We had shared a bed on some of our road trips, but I was a lot younger and not as horny. I hesitated answering, not wanting to seem too eager to sleep in the same bed with my hot mom. After a short pause I stated, “It’ll be fine Mom. I’ve never heard you snore and even if you do, I’m so tired from the trip, I’ll sleep through it.”

We enjoyed a nice dinner at the hotel restaurant, before calling it a night. She downed a few glasses of wine and felt no pain when we left for our room. She leaned into me more than usual in the elevator and on the walk to our room. The scent of her perfume and her soft breast pushing into my arm was exhilarating. As we sat on the couch to watch TV, Mom leaned into me and rested her head on my shoulder.

The time flew by as Mom rested, her hot soft body pressed against mine. In an attempt to become more comfortable, she squirmed and snuggled in closer. I hadn’t noticed before, but the top few buttons on her blouse had become unfastened, revealing a gap, giving me a clear view of her sexy bra. I openly stared at her barely covered breasts, heaving in her restful state. The edges of her dark nipples were barely visible, hidden beneath her silky blue bra. I wrapped my arm around her and held her tightly, enjoying the moment together. After an hour of bliss, Mom stirred and straightened up, pulling her blouse together, not saying anything as I continued to leer. Her smile conveyed approval and then she broke the mood, saying it was time for bed.

She told me to shower and get in bed, then she’d follow. Once I was under the covers and Mom was in the shower, I took off my tee-shirt and threw it to the floor, as I liked sleeping in shorts with nothing else. Mom had turned off the room lights, before going in to take her shower. When she exited, the bathroom was dark except for a nightlight. It was dim but light enough that I could see Mom wearing a thin nightie. Her long bare legs were on display as her sleeping attire ended a few inches below her panties. Her full, braless tits pushed up the material, but the light was too dim to show her nipples.

She crawled in, leaned over, and kissed me on the cheek, telling me goodnight. She turned over so her back faced me. My prick was rock-hard and getting to sleep proved to be a struggle. I thought I should get up and relieve myself in the bathroom, but didn’t know how to move by Mom without her seeing my tented shorts. I decided to turn on my side with my back to her to try to sleep. I eventually drifted off, reliving several of my favorite fantasies.

I woke up around six, feeling overheated. I didn’t remember the excessively hot room temperature when we went to sleep. I soon discovered why, as Mom had turned over in her sleep and snuggled up next to me. One of her smooth long legs draped over my legs. Her breasts pressed into my back and her arm was wrapped around my bare chest. I could feel her hot breath on my neck and her nightie-clad, soft breasts heaving with her deep breaths as she slept.

My prick quickly hardened and found its way out of the slit in my shorts. I was careful not to make a move so I didn’t disturb her. It was more than sexual as I felt so secure and relaxed with her body molded to mine.

I could have remained in that position for the day, but after an hour, Mom woke up. When she lowered her arm from my chest, she went too low and collided against my exposed spongy cock-head. I thought she’d jerk away, but instead, she gently pulled her arm back keeping contact with my prick as she removed her arm. My breathing stopped as Mom scraped my stiff prick along the length of her arm.

She slid her leg off mine, rolled over, got out of bed, and moved to the bathroom to get dressed. It was light in the room and I rolled over to steal a glimpse of her as she walked away. I lustfully watched her backside, my eyes glued to the backs of her bare legs. When she got to the bathroom door, she turned and smiled saying, “Good Morning, Elias, sleep well? I hope you didn’t mind using you to keep me warm. I got a chill during the night.”

She turned enough to show a side profile of her full perky breasts, proudly pushing up her thin nightie. I had a hard time moving up to connect our eyes, but eventually did, replying, “Slept like a log, Mom. I didn’t notice anything.” She paused and made no attempt to hide her nearly nude body as if displaying it on purpose.

I wondered if she was teasing me, or hesitating because she had just woken up. In either case, my prick hardened as my eyes traveled up and down her thinly covered body. My eyes connected to hers and her look told me that she knew I lustfully leered at her.

Her smile grew wide, as she turned and closed the door to change. I rolled out of bed, threw on my clothes, and was ready to go when Mom emerged, looking radiant as ever. We left the hotel and attended the funeral services.

Mom and Gran hugged each other in their grief and they enjoyed a lengthy conversation afterward. I hoped they’d get back together as I knew Mom missed the talks with her mother. Gran hugged me tightly, telling me how much she missed me and was surprised at how much I’d grown. I told her I missed her too and kissed her on the cheek.

On the way home, Mom teared up a few times. I tried to cheer her up as I hated to see her in a depressed state. As we neared home, Mom told me she was overcome with emotion, not from her dad’s death, but from connecting again with her mother. She missed the close relationship they enjoyed when she was younger.

Their brief connection at the funeral resulted in Mom and Gran talking more frequently on the phone. After a few weeks, they talked longer each day, laughter mixing in their lively conversations. Mom was happier than ever and we had a marvelous dinner for my nineteenth birthday. At that point, my love and lust was solely focused on my mother. My fantasies were strictly of her and I would openly admire her sexy assets whenever we were together. She never scolded me for staring and her skirts transitioned to shorter ones.