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mpl model arianna


warning: it is an incest story between mom and son

"Omigod! Look at it snow, son!" Mom looked over at me with amazement and joy on her face. We had just walked out of the mall, arms laden with last minute Christmas presents after several hours of shopping. The weatherman had mentioned snow might be in the forecast, but there were a few inches of the white stuff on the ground and in the dimming afternoon light, the clouds promised more snow, lots more. As we walked through the falling snow, I couldn't help but admire how beautiful Mom looked, her long black hair dusted with snowflakes.

We took our presents to Mom's old station wagon and went in search of a restaurant. At a local steakhouse, we ordered steaks and from our window seat watched as the snow piled up. "I think we might have made a mistake, honey," Mom said. "Maybe we should have headed for home as soon as I got here."

I looked at her and nodded, replying, "Maybe so. Even the weather guy didn't see this coming." I'd stopped at the bar on our way in and instead of sports, everyone was watching the weather reports on the Six O'clock News. An unexpected collision of polar and humid fronts was giving birth to a major snowstorm. The word blizzard was being tossed around.

Mom had driven down from our hometown in western Illinois to drive me back for Christmas break. I'm a junior at a local university in Chicago. I live off campus and ride the 'El" to school. No real need for a car, especially at today's scandalous prices. It was tradition for Mom to drive the four or so hours to pick me up for Christmas break. We'd spend the day catching up, going shopping and having dinner before heading home for the Christmas craziness. It was a chance for Mom and me to have a quiet moment together.

We left the restaurant with a couple of more inches of snow on the ground. Mom's station wagon plowed stolidly through the snow, but it was getting really messy now. On the radio, the report was to expect somewhere between twelve and fifteen inches of snow by noon tomorrow.

Near my studio apartment, we stopped at a local Korean grocery and used the pay phone there. Mom called home to discover that they were already snowed in. Dad wasn't happy, fussing that Mom should have known better and the roads there were in even worse shape. He complained until Mom cut him off, saying, "Just get over it, Harold. You and the twins can survive a few days without me. You'll probably enjoy Christmas even more." She rolled her eyes at me in disgust. Yeah, my father was a class act, bitching about his own possible discomforts rather than the safety of his wife.

Mom spoke to my younger brothers and reassured them that she'd miss them, but that they and their father would have a fun special Christmas all on their own. I imagine at sixteen, they weren't too broken up about it. Hanging up the phone, and wiping away a couple of tears, Mom shrugged and said, "Well, sweetie, I guess it's just you and me this Christmas."

I hugged my Mom, a shiver going through me. I have to confess, the thought of having my Mom all to myself for several days really appealed to me. I would miss my brothers, heck I might even slightly miss Dad, but I spoke the truth when I replied, "I can't imagine a more wonderful person to spend Christmas with, Mom."

Before we left the grocery, Mom insisted we do a little more shopping, fighting the other customers for last minute buys before the storm closed everything down. From there, we managed to get the station wagon back to my old apartment building and into the back alley where the parking slots were located. I usually used my space for storage, but stacking things up, we managed to squeeze Mom's old boat of a car inside.

We lugged our food and shopping up the five flights of stairs and then collapsed on the couch. On the little black and white television I kept in my studio apartment, the weather man was gleefully assuring everyone that with a projection of now twenty inches of snow, we would be having a very white Christmas. "So, just get comfortable and snuggle up with someone you love and enjoy the snow," he advised. Mom and I just grinned at each other, Mom's smile just a little mysterious. I laughed and said, "Let it snow, let snow, let it snow!" It was December 23, 1981 and I was spending Christmas with the woman I loved more than any other in the world.

Inspired, I went downstairs to the storeroom and brought up our old Christmas tree that Mom had given me when I first went off to college. It was an old artificial tree that I had grown up with. Mom had packed it full of old ornaments and lights. We spent that evening putting it up and thoroughly enjoyed decorating the tree as we recalled special memories evoked by specific ornaments and of hilarious disasters involving the tree and our efforts to decorate it in my youth. Miraculously the lights actually worked the first time we plugged them in. Mom clapped her hands and jumped up and down and I couldn't help but notice how her breasts bounced enticingly under her cable sweater.

We turned off all the other lights and cuddled up on the couch to watch our tree. I had some Christmas music playing softly on my stereo. Mom, her feet curled up beneath her, leaned into me, my arm around her and her head on my shoulder. "This is perfect," she said softly. "This is so..."

"Romantic?" I suggested, pulling her against me.

"Yes, romantic," she replied, looking up into my eyes. "This is how I always wanted Christmas to be like with your father. Cuddled up on the couch with the man I love, but...well, you know how he is." She left the rest unsaid.

"Yeah, I know. Guess you'll have to make do with me," I said it kind of jokingly, but also realizing she might take it as flirting.

"Actually, John, I prefer being with you. You always did know exactly what I like. I can't imagine anyone I'd rather be with right now. Thank you for this." Mom rose up and kissed me on the corner of the mouth. "I love you, son."

I leaned down and replied, "I love you too, Mom," before I returned her kiss. I missed the corner of her mouth and kissed her smack on the lips. I didn't rush it and the kiss lasted maybe five seconds.

Mom gasped a little and for a moment as I pulled slightly back, she looked as if she might kiss me back. We just gazed at each other for long time, the air full of tension. Finally, she smiled at me and leaned into me again, putting her head on my chest. "It's very romantic," she whispered and then she fell silent and the tension slowly drained away. The moment was wonderful and romantic and we watched our blinking Christmas tree for a long time, content to be in each other's arms.

As we approached midnight, Mom yawned and said, "I reckon I'll go to bed. It's been a long and interesting day." Then she sat up, laughed and said, "Good Lord, I didn't pack anything. I expected us to be home by now!" She stood up and stretched and said, "Can I borrow a T-shirt or something for a night gown?"

Inwardly, I groaned with desire. If Mom only knew how guys felt about seeing their woman in one of their shirts. I don't know why, but I don't think there's a guy alive that isn't turned on by the sight of a good looking woman wearing nothing but one of their shirts. "I'm sure we can find something, Mom. Unless you want to go au' natural like Aunt Debbie? Mom's sister is notorious for her nudist habits.

Mom kinda smirked and said, "In your dreams, John. You don't really want to see an old lady's sagging body!"

As I rummaged around in a dresser and came up with an old, comfortable sweatshirt, tossing it to Mom, I replied, "You might be surprised."

Mom blushed and said, "I'm going to go change. Why don't you fix up the couch for me?" Mom turned and stepped into the bathroom, smiling back at me as she closed the door.

I changed out of my jeans into a T-shirt and some baggy gym shorts. I then changed the sheets on my bed and pulled out fresh sheets and some extra blankets and made a bed for myself on the couch. No way was I gonna make Mom sleep on my couch. Heck, I fall asleep there half the time anyway.

I was sitting there watching the late news shows when Mom came out of the bathroom. Without thinking, I let out an appreciative wolf whistle. Mom looked downright delicious in my sweatshirt. It seemed to mold itself to her chest, drawing attention to her magnificent, meaty breasts and it bottomed out not quite halfway to her knees, looking a lot like a sexy sweater dress. It flattered her sexy legs big time.

"God, shut up, John. You're such a flirt and I am your mother!" Mom growled, although she looked pleased at my reaction. In any case, she stayed in the bathroom doorway, hands on her hips, posing for me for several seconds. Finally she moved on in the room, self consciously tugging the bottom of the sweatshirt downwards as if she was afraid of it rising up.

So, you've got my bed ready?" Mom asked, standing over me.

"Yep, I've changed the sheets on the bed. You're my guest, so you get the bed tonight." I pointed my thumb over my shoulder at the bed across the room.

Mom said, "I don't think so, honey. I'll be fine on the couch."

We argued back and forth for a couple of minutes, ragging each other good naturedly. Hell, I was fine with arguing because it gave me an easy excuse to ogle Mom's sexy body. Finally though, in an exasperated voice I said, "Mom, just quit arguing and get in my bed!"

Mom gave me the funniest look and as I realized what I'd said, I'm sure I had an odd expression on my face. I know from the heat I felt on my face that I was turning red.

Mom then gave me that funny little smile again and said in a quiet voice, "Well, I guess when a son commands his mother to get into his bed, she better do what she's told." She ducked down and kissed me goodnight, this time kissing me on the lips. I sensed her shiver a little and then she said, "Goodnight, son. I love you."

I watched her walk away and said, "I love you, Mom. Good night." I turned off the television and then the light next to the couch. Mom turned off the bedside lamp. We were in partial darkness, our only illumination the multicolored lights of our Christmas tree.

We both had trouble getting to sleep. I could hear the noisy springs of my old brass bed creaking as Mom tossed and turned several times along with some heavy sighs. I was restless too, not because of the couch, but because of the funny tension that was building inside my apartment. All my feelings for Mom were coming to the surface and I wondered if I would be able to restrain them while Mom was stranded with me here. As finally, I heard Mom's breathing settle into a soft, steady rhythm and heard her softly snoring, I began to think about our lives together and how we had came to this moment.


Growing up, I think I always knew I ...
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