Chapter 1

Hearing the door to the garage close, I knew my mother, Emily, had arrived home. That, along with her angelic voice singing, “Wow! Something smells good, what’s you got cooking? The aroma’s so rich, my taste buds are looking.”

A grin spread across my face, and I couldn’t resist chuckling softly at her catchy, impromptu tune. The rich scent of onions and garlic lured my mother into the kitchen to investigate what culinary delight I was working on. Her melodic humming and infectious smile warmed my heart while she watched me prepare her favorite meal.

“I’ve been looking forward to this all day,” she chirped, smiling appreciatively. She knew what would be waiting for her, as I’d done this every year on this day since Dad died. It was their wedding anniversary, and it was my way of making it more bearable for her.

Three years ago, Dad passed away, leaving Mom and me alone. We mourned, without celebrating my eighteenth birthday, two weeks after his death. Watching her mental health decline, I knew I had to step up and care for her, as she had been my rock my entire life. She was upset when I told her I wouldn’t attend the out-of-state college as planned, but attend a local trade school. After I convinced her it would work out, she relented and appeared relieved that she wouldn’t be alone. Once I completed my training, I landed a job that made me feel overjoyed about my vocational decision.

After Dad’s death, I took on more responsibility for taking care of my mother. Her needs were my top priority, so I cooked her favorite dishes, ran her errands, and provided for her every requirement. But as the days turned into weeks, and the weeks into months, I realized she needed something more - she deserved to be pampered. So I set out to spoil her, doing everything in my power to help her heal. And though it wasn’t always easy, seeing her smile made it all worth it.

“Mom, I started your bath for you. When you’re finished, I’ll have dinner ready,” I said, receiving a warm smile in return. I lustfully inspected the backs of her shapely calves while she strolled down the hall to her bedroom. Thankfully, she wore conservative skirts that concealed her beautiful legs, hidden from everyone but me.

Twenty minutes later, she returned, dressed in comfortable sweats. After placing her half-empty wine glass on the table, she sat down. “Thanks for remembering my favorite wine and shampoo. You make me feel so special.”

Once I placed the main dish onto a hot pad, I filled her glass and sat across from her. At that moment, I couldn’t help but feel an overwhelming sense of gratitude. Her outlook on life had vastly improved in the last year, and we cherished spending evenings together, just the two of us. We talked about everything and anything, reminiscing about old memories and discussing the latest news in our lives.

Upon completing our meal, I detected a melancholy look in her eyes. It was clear she was still struggling with the loss of my father, even after all this time. “I’ll clean up and bring dessert out. Make yourself comfortable on the couch for a movie,” I said, hoping to cheer her up.

Plopping down beside my widowed mother on the couch, we indulged in fresh brownies and watched one of her beloved romantic shows. After a few minutes, she leaned her weight against me, resting her head on my shoulder. Pleasant wafts of sweet fruit flooded my senses. Her silky, brunette hair tickled my neck when she laughed at the familiar scenes on the screen. My heart rate quickened while we bonded together, more intimate than our normal mother-son interactions. It was a simple moment, but one I knew was important for both of us. We remained silent, the only sounds coming from the TV.

Wrapping my arm around her, I pulled her tighter, knowing that an upcoming scene would remind her of Dad. The feeling of closeness with someone I cared about was overwhelming.

“Hey, Mom, do you remember when Dad used to do that?” I asked, nodding towards the TV.

She lifted her head, her eyes flickered toward me, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “Of course, he did it on purpose, knowing we’d laugh at him,” she replied.

We spent the rest of the evening reminiscing about my father and the fond memories. It wasn’t a lighthearted conversation, but it did bring us closer, sharing our grief. As the final credits faded from the screen, my mom turned to me and gave my hand a gentle squeeze. “I’m so grateful you spent the evening with me,” she said, her voice thick with emotion.

As our eyes met and she smiled back, a warm feeling of appreciation washed over me. In that moment of connection, I couldn’t help but feel thankful for the simple yet profound exchange of kindness and understanding between us. Sometimes, it’s the small moments that matter the most - this was one I wouldn’t forget.

Standing up, she extended her hands to help me to my feet. After a gentle embrace, she sighed, “I’m absolutely exhausted. Goodnight, Evan.”

“Night, Mom,” I replied, watching her once again disappear into her room.

Once I finished cleaning the kitchen, I raced to my room, stripped off my clothes, flopped into bed, and began another tradition - stroking my rock-hard prick. After each snuggling session, my cock would demand a rough and intense workout. When I closed my eyelids and visions of Mom’s beaming face leered before me, my hand wrapped around my turgid pole. Her wide, brown eyes were the same color as her hair and reflected the love I hoped she held for me. High cheekbones and a cute button nose complemented her sexy smile.

Visualizing her arms pulling our nude bodies together, my fantasy continued, feeling her full breasts squashed against my chest. “Fuck me,” she pleaded, guiding my prick to her sex. I furiously stroked my shaft, slick with copious amounts of pre-cum. My mind reeled with excitement, upon hearing my mother’s encouraging voice while we fucked. Suddenly, another voice commanded, “Pound your mother’s horny pussy, Evan. Faster! Harder!”

It took me a moment before I recognized my grandmother’s voice. The rate of my pumping increased while her voice narrated through our coupling. I chalked it up to my sleepy, semi-conscious state and recalled my childhood fantasies of mating with my grandmother. She was as pretty as Mom, but I ceased masturbating about her when she died four years prior to Dad.

After another ten minutes of sexual bliss, Dahlia, my grandmother, yelled, “Fill her pussy full of cum. She wants her son to fuck her to completion. Satisfy your mother the way she desires.” My cock exploded, covering my stomach and chest with globs of thick, sticky cum. I pumped out more volume than I had in a long time. After I drained myself, I relaxed and fell asleep without bothering to clean up.

Awakening refreshed, I recalled the previous night’s erotic episode and noticed that I had covered myself at some point, keeping me warm and comfortable. My hand explored for signs of my activity and discovered the sheets crusty with my dried semen. I sighed, contemplating how to deal with my soiled linen. After showering, I stripped the bed, gathered my dirty clothes, and hauled them to the washing machine.

It was nearing eight, and I knew Mom would soon be up. With the coffee started, I prepared Mom’s favorite breakfast of scrambled eggs and toast. Just as I set her plate of food on the table, I heard her door open and close. Saturday was our leisure day, so Mom wearing her robe wasn’t out of the ordinary. She smiled wide and greeted me, “Good morning, Evan. Breakfast smells wonderful.”

“Thanks, Mom. You look fantastic this morning. Did you sleep well?” I inquired, noticing a sparkle in her eye that hinted at a restful night.

“I’m a bit of a lightweight wine drinker, so it doesn’t take much to knock me out. I had a great time with you last night. Although,” she teased, a mischievous grin tugging at the corner of her mouth. “It looks like you’ve been a bit naughty,” she added.

When her head nodded toward the laundry room, my face turned beet red. She had to have seen plenty of my cum-stained clothes and sheets before. “Did Mom suspect she was the focus of my fantasies?” I asked myself.

Before I could respond, she continued, “First, you’re doing laundry, and now you’re treating me to my favorite breakfast. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were begging for forgiveness.” She chuckled and grinned wide, easing my discomfort.

“You did say you wanted to go out shopping today, didn’t you?” I asked, relieved that she wasn’t referring to my handjob the previous night. “I thought I’d get a jump on the chores so we can spend more time together at the mall.”

“Absolutely right! I completely forgot,” Mom acknowledged, her gratitude apparent. “You have no idea how much I appreciate you reminding me. But now comes the fun part - I get to burden you with a pile of packages. But don’t fret, dear. I’ll make it up to you by treating you to a delicious lunch afterward.”

The gap in her robe widened from her giggling, revealing the top edge of her light-blue bra. I wondered if she slept with a bra or put one on after she got up. Feeling blood flow to my cock while I envisioned Mom’s bare breasts, I quickly changed topics to the day’s agenda.

Mom lived up to her promise, burdening me with multiple purchases while we strolled through the expansive mall. After stowing everything in the trunk, we ended the day at a nice restaurant. I was glad to see Mom’s cheerful face while she enjoyed our outing. We decided to finish the evening by watching another movie on the couch.

Mom switched attire from sweats to a robe, revealing several inches of smooth skin above her knees. When she leaned into me, I wrapped my arm around her, pulling her closer. Partway through the show, Mom lifted her head and pronounced, “Evan, I know what you did last night. We need to talk.”

My muscles tensed while I thought of how Mom knew I fantasized about her. “O ... Okay,” I stammered, fearing the worst.

“Since Drake died, you’ve done everything possible to ease my pain. I loved your father and adored our time together, but I’m better now and don’t need so much attention. You’ve sacrificed enough to take care of me. A young woman somewhere needs a thoughtful, caring man like yourself in her life. I wish you’d start dating again and get out more.”

A wave of relief washed over me, realizing that Mom didn’t want to discuss my masturbatory session. Although she acted like she wanted me to venture out, her eyes signaled a different desire. “I don’t see you going out much either, Mom. Many men would jump at the chance of dating a beautiful woman like you. As far as I’m concerned, I’m happy where I’m at in life and want to take it slow.”

Her face brightened, hearing my answer. “I’m happy, too. I guess we’re a couple of homebodies. Remember what I said - a woman deserves someone special like you.”

As she lowered her head and leaned more of her weight into me, I felt her vulnerability and need for comfort. Without hesitation, I moved my hand from her shoulder to her hair, feeling the soft, silky strands between my fingers. I began massaging her scalp, using gentle circular motions to ease her tension and calm her down. As she relaxed in my embrace, I knew that our bond was growing stronger and deeper.

“You’re only making me more convinced that you’re a real catch,” she moaned. “Your fingers are pure magic. You know how to make me happy.” As she hummed contentedly, I continued to caress her in the same way she used to when I was a child and felt upset.

Suddenly, she looked up at me with a soft expression on her face. “When you told me I was beautiful,” she whispered, “did you really mean it?”

I paused for a moment, looking deeply into her eyes, and then spoke from my heart. “Of course, I meant it,” I said with a smile. “Your beauty radiates from the inside out. Our conversations always leave me feeling inspired and your smile has the power to light up any room. And, if I may be so bold, you have a strikingly beautiful appearance that could easily land you a modeling contract.”

As I finished speaking, I felt a flush of embarrassment spread across my cheeks at my sentimental outburst. But when I looked at her face and saw the genuine pleasure and surprise in her expression, I knew that my words had touched her heart. For a moment, she seemed lost in thought, and I worried that I might have made her uncomfortable.

To break the uneasiness, I added, “And let’s not forget about the amazing job you did raising your son. You’re an incredible mother, and it shows in the way he turned out.”

At my words, she let out a soft, musical giggle and croaked out a reply. “Thank you, Evan. I appreciate your kind words. And I have to admit, I’m pretty proud of my son, too.” With that, the tension between us dissipated, and we settled back to watching our movie.

At the show’s conclusion, Mom hugged me and departed to her bedroom. It wasn’t long before I was prone in bed, stroking my cock and reliving the intimate moments with my mother. Not wanting to repeat the previous night’s mistake, I had a pile of tissues beside me to mop up my messy load. My orgasm was near when Gran’s voice entered my head again. “Stick it to your mother, Evan. Fuck her good.”

Out of curiosity, I slowly opened my eyelids. A hazy, translucent shape formed at the bottom of my bed. My hand ceased stroking, while the image solidified into my grandmother, dressed in one of the blouse-skirt combinations I had often seen her wear. Her bob-cut hairstyle was the same as Mom’s, but darker brown, almost black. It had been years since I had seen her, but she looked as I had remembered. Thinking I was hallucinating due to my sexually heightened state, I briefly closed my eyes and hesitated before opening them again. She was still there.

“Grandma?” I asked, hoping she wouldn’t answer and fade away.

“Yes, Evan. It’s me,” she answered.

“You’re a ghost? You died a long time ago. Have you been here since your death?”

She chuckled, “How observant of you. I’ve been here off and on, but I make sure I visit during the time surrounding your parents’ anniversary. I loved both of them so much, and the event draws me back each year.”

As my cock softened during our conversation, I shyly grabbed the edge of the sheets to cover myself.

“Stop, Evan,” Grandma ordered. “It’s perfectly normal for a young man to fantasize about his mother, especially one as smoking hot as Emily, your mother.”

I ceased movement but wasn’t about to continue stroking my cock in front of my grandmother.

“Close your eyes and visualize your mother kissing you. Let me take care of your problem,” she whispered seductively.

Without question, I followed her instructions and felt a refreshing cool breeze brush against my legs. Soon after, warm hands caressed my chilled flesh, erasing any discomfort. My body went from cold to hot in seconds, while Gran’s hands caressed higher until her fingers ran through my pubic hair.

“Imagine her full lips against yours,” Gran croaked. “She’s a sexy woman and would love to handle a magnificent cock like yours.” She wrapped her long, sinewy fingers around my hardening shaft and squeezed. My mind raced with my fantasy with Mom while my grandmother stroked my cock.

My hands gripped chunks of the fitted sheet, while I enjoyed Gran’s handjob. It was fifteen minutes of bliss, imagining visions of Mom squirming beneath me, while we made love. One of Gran’s hands twisted my plum-shaped knob, while her other cradled my balls. Her expert stimulation caused my cock to erupt and spray my belly with my seed. After she extracted every drop, my body relaxed, spent from my intense climax.

Watching Gran wipe up my cum with the tissues, I stated, in a puzzled tone, “I didn’t know ghosts had the ability to touch or grab onto solid objects.”

She chuckled and replied, “That’s because you’ve only heard information from people who aren’t ghosts.” Her silhouette faded as she added, “I’m leaving, but remember what I said about your mother. She needs more than a loving, considerate man in her life. Hug her tighter and compliment her more often. Remember when she asked you whether you thought she was beautiful? She deserves to be showered with attention. Be a good grandson and obey your grandmother.”

Before I could reply, Grandma Dahlia vanished. With all that had happened, I figured I’d never get to sleep, but surprisingly, I conked out cold, waking up refreshed.

Heeding Gran’s orders, I flirted and complimented Mom throughout the week, occasionally bumping and touching her. Her infectious, sexy smile, added to her instigating physical contact, made me feel good about my progress.

We spent the evenings snuggled together, watching shows. If I didn’t initiate it first, Mom directed my hand to her scalp for a massage. Our goodnight hugs increased in duration and tightness. One evening when we embraced, her bra jabbed into my chest, causing me to jerk backward.

“What’s wrong, Evan?” Mom asked perplexedly. “Is my perfume too strong?”

“No, it’s perfect. Something sharp in your bra poked me.”

“Maybe we should visit the mall and shop for some softer bras,” Mom replied, relieved it wasn’t a sour smell.

“That’s one option...” I smirked, my voice trailing off before recommending she go sans bra.

Her flushed face and cocked smile was her only reply. She quickly pivoted and pranced to her room.

The next night, I smiled wide when we hugged, and her soft, braless tits pressed into me during our embrace. Grandma didn’t reappear for the next few days. I didn’t know if my mind was playing tricks on me or if she was happy that I had obeyed her wishes and vanished into the ether.

On Friday, Mom and I celebrated the end of the week with wine and a movie. After a lengthy goodnight hug, I nestled my face against her soft neck and inhaled her fragrance. “You smell nice tonight, Mom. Different shampoo?” I asked.

She replied, “Actually, it is. I’m glad you like it.”

As I gazed at her lovely face, my attention was drawn to her full, moist lips. They looked so inviting, and I could feel the heat rising within me as I imagined kissing her. But before I could make a move, she surprised me when she suggested, “How about we take a leisurely drive tomorrow and check out a new restaurant for dinner?”

Her unexpected proposal caught me off guard, and for a moment, my mind struggled to adjust. “Uh, sure, that sounds great,” I stammered, my heart still racing from the momentary distraction of her lips.

As we continued to talk about the details of our plan, I couldn’t shake the feeling that she was still looking at me with that same hungry desire.

Abruptly, she said, “Goodnight, Evan. See you in the morning,” turned and left for her room.

My cock jerked, knowing what was in store for it after the evening with Mom. Once nude on my bed, I sealed my eyelids and replayed the images from the evening. A cold breeze caused my muscles to tighten, and before looking, I knew my grandmother had shown up. “Hi, Gran. I’ve missed you.”

“I missed you, too, sweetie. Sorry about the chilling. It’s some kind of built-in mechanism with ghosts, and I haven’t figured out how to change it. I do know how to rectify its effects, though.”

Her warm hands stroked up and down my legs, quickly elevating my temperature. “Close your eyes and let your grandma take care of you,” she instructed, caressing my muscles. “Think of the activities you did with your mother this week.”

While holding my balls with one hand, she gripped the root of my cock with the other. Her hot breath washed over my sensitive tip before enveloping it with her mouth and descending until my bloated head hit the back of her throat. Her head bobbed up and down my shaft, sending pangs of pleasure through my body. My prick hadn’t ever received such an exquisite blowjob, and it was from my dead grandmother.

She reached over and guided one of my hands to her head. Taking her hint, I ran my fingers through her silky hair. Did she know her hair felt like my mother’s? Of course, she did. It was her way of telling me to think of Mom while she brought me to a climax. When I recalled the evenings I stroked Mom’s scalp, my balls tensed, signaling my release. “Fuck! I’m cumming!” I screamed.

She increased her pace, her mouth sucking so hard, my cock had no choice but to discharge its load. My muscles stiffened while my prick plastered the back of Gran’s throat with sticky semen. She swallowed every drop before tongue-washing my shaft and tip. She pulled off and smacked her lips. “That was a lot of tasty cum. At least we don’t have to worry about soiling your sheets tonight,” she giggled.

After my breathing returned to normal, I opened my eyes and exclaimed, “Wow, Gran! I’ve never cum so hard.”

“Please, Evan. Call me Dahlia from now on. I prefer it after a man has gifted me his seed. I’m glad you enjoyed it. It’ll even be better when your mother does it. Your progress has been slow for the last week. I’m surprised you haven’t kissed her. You know she’s ready, don’t you?”

My heart quickened as I allowed myself to consider the possibility of a more intimate relationship with my mother. “Gra...” I hesitated, seeing her reaction. “Dahlia, I’m not sure she is. I thought we would connect tonight, but she abruptly left. It might be a line she doesn’t want to cross.”