A New Mutual Hobby

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This is an updated, more in depth mother-son story that is even more closely related to personal experiences. Comments and constructive criticism are appreciated. Happy fapping!


A salacious red glow illuminated my face, creamy white in all of that silky red, it called to me: the Netflix opening screen.

Yet another night of falling asleep alone, watching whatever random TV show happens to catch my eye, or maybe just Futurama again. I swear I’ve seen every single episode of that show at least five times. It’s comedic gold.

I was two steps from putting on a random episode when I heard my phone ring. It lit up my dark room as it vibrated by me, my mother’s photo ID filling up the screen. It was a good photo of her, the weekend that her, my sister and I spent in San Diego. She hugged my sister and I close in the photo, both of them in floral bikinis, it was hard to tell who wore them better.

My mom had the more mature, wider hips of motherhood and more prominent breasts, whereas my sister had a perfect, rotund, tight ass that I could always stare at whenever I got a call from either of them (as it was set to my sister’s caller ID as well). She hugged my mom so tight that she was practically squeezing their boobs together and pointing her ass at the guy whom she had asked to take our picture.

Before the photo sucked me in too much I forced myself to pick up my phone and answer it.

“Hey mom, what’s up?”

“Hey, Bub.” she sounded tired. “Is this a good time?”

Like an cheesy sitcom, I paused to look over my delapitated, depressing bedroom, a cartoon TV show banner my only source of light.

“Yeah I got a minute.” I answered with a smirk.

“Well, I don’t want to concern you or anything,”

I sat up straight now, I could definitely hear the stress in her voice now.

“But I just wanted you to know that Rog and I are separating.”

I almost didn’t respond, I hadn’t expected this from her at all. “Mom, I’m so sorry.” I told her, wishing there was more to say.

“It’s all right, Bub, I won’t go into the details of why but suffice it to say that there’s no longer any trust in the relationship. And in a mature relationship there has to be trust or there can’t be anything. And we went to counseling sessions and we read books, but in the end it didn’t matter. Once a certain bond of trust is broken it cant be mended.”

I didn’t know what to say. To be completely honest, I wasn’t totally surprised. I had spent a weekend alone with my mom a while back and I found a book in her suitcase titled Coping with Infidelity.

I had lost all respect for her husband, Roger, at that point. I knew that my mom wasn’t the woman to cheat, and she had told me that Roger had a history of cheating on his first wife. I didn’t need to know who he had been with or when it had been, all I needed to know was he had betrayed my mom.

“I just was waiting for a good time to tell you. I didn’t want you to be disappointed in me, this being marriage number three and all.”

“Mom you could never disappoint me.” I answered instantly. She had been married twice after my dad; once when I was young to a singer in a crappy wanna-be country band in a small hick town, and then to Roger, a more laid back, blues playing, guitar weilding man. He was a hippy in an old Canadians body. Oh yeah, she married Rog and moved up to a tiny mountain town in Canada with him, so I rarely get a chance to see her. “You’re the greatest woman I know,” I told her, “and I would be lucky to find a girl half as great as you.”

“Well thank you, Bubby.” I could hear the smile in her voice now. “It means a lot to me that you would say that.”

“Well it’s true. And I don’t know what Roger did to blow it with you but I know he’ll rue it to the day he dies.”

Mom laughed a little at that, “That’s very sweet of you to say.”

“So I need to make time to come up and see you, don’t I?” I said in an effort to move to a cheerier subject.

“Well I’ll never say no to that.” my mom laughed.

We talked for another hour or so about plans to come see her, what she was going to do with their house they had built together (she told Roger he could keep it as he had put more effort into rebuilding it than she had), and if she would be able to move back to the States (which she said she planned to do but it wouldn’t be for a while). We agreed after much discussion that it would be easier for both of our schedules if she came to see me instead of me driving up to see her.

At the end of the call, I hung up I looked at the photo ID of my mom, my sister and me again.

“How could any guy cheat on that,” I asked aloud, just before turning back to my Netflix.

Weeks passed, and eventually the time came when I could take a long weekend off from work and thankfully, she was able to drive down to see me. I got up early Saturday morning and spent most of my day with the window open, trying to rid my room of the copious smell of marijuana. I washed all my sheets (knowing she would be taking my bed halkalı escort for both of the nights she was staying here, I would have regardless), I even dusted all of my furniture and topped it off with a heavy dosing of febreeze.

I was thorough.

Needless to say, I hadn’t told my mom I smoked weed. It’s been a year since I started, and I always wanted to tell her, but the moment never seemed right. My mom raised me to be a good, lutheran gentleman. And for a long time I was.

I abstained from high school and college parties with few exceptions. Parties never were my scene. I’m not great at socializing en masse. Give me a one-on-one conversation at a bar, or even over coffee.

But when I got home from college and I broke up with my girlfriend whom I had been with for two years, I decided to have a “Night of No Rules”. And there were none. I had my first one night stand, and it was with a co-worker whom I work directly next to at the office. But it was also the first time I shot a gun. Only at a can in the woods, nothing too rebellious: even while inebriated I try to obstain from breaking the law. But more importantly that was the first time I smoked a bowl.

And its been a habit ever since.

So as I’m cleaning our upstairs living room my roommate David comes to me and tells me him and his fiance, Melissa, will be leaving tomorrow night to go to a resort with his family.

“Nice, the same place as last year?”

“Different cabin, but same mountain.” he answered with a showy smile. David always liked to flaunt the fact that his parents took him to nice places and spoiled him when they could. He was subtle about it, so it never really bothered me, but I could see it in his face.

“Should be fun.”

“Yeah. Are you and your mom doing anything over the weekend?”

“Well tomorrow my sister’s in town for the last night before she goes back to San Diego, so we’re all gonna get together and do something. Not sure what yet.”

No sooner had I finished my sentence than I noticed my roommates dogs skid across our wooden floors and bolt for the window, overlooking the driveway.

Sure enough, my mother had pulled up to the driveway, her gorgeous black GMC Sierra crawling to a stop just behind my blue Subaru. I dodged the dogs making my way down the stairs and opened the front door to see my mom practically jump down from the driver seat, standing barely as tall as the side mirror beside it. Her long, auburn hair flailed in the summer wind and she pulled off her big sunglasses as I approached her.

“Hey Bub!” she smiled ear to ear, and I could feel a warm joy in seeing my mother’s smile. I embraced her in a tight hug, and she squeezed me twice as hard. I could smell the same shampoo in her hair that I had always smelled growing up. Memories of my childhood swam through my head as we held each other.

“How you be?” she asked in her usual broken language. Make no mistake, my mother is a brilliant woman, she just likes to be silly.

“I be good.” I answered in turn, finally releasing from our iron hug.

“Why don’t you hug me like that?” David asked, who I hadn’t realized was standing right by me.

My mom laughed as I attempted to hug him in turn, and David dodged, “Hey now, I was talking to your mom!” he grinned devilishly.

It wasn’t the first time he had shamlessly flirted to my mom. He didn’t outright tell me he thought my mom was hot, but I knew he did. I heard from enough of my other friends that my mother was a MILF. And they weren’t wrong. Compared to most other moms growing up, it didn’t take long for me to realize my mom took exceptional care of her body.

“Aw, want a hug, David? c’mere.” She smiled big and wide at me as she gave him a hug too, but not half as long.

“Hi Mrs. B.” Melissa waved from the doorway, one foot in the crevice between the door and the wall to keep the dogs from escaping.

“Hi Melissa!”

I was already halfway to the back of her truck when my mom turned to ask for my help with her bags.

“I’ve trained you well, my son.” she beamed at me as I heaved her massive suitcase off of the truck.

“Well, it seems I have to be the only man in your life that won’t disappoint you.” I said shamelessly.

My mom gave me a look that was difficult to read, but she smiled still. That’s what I loved about her. She was always smiling.

I carried her bags into the house and led her to my bedroom, tossing the largest suitcase on the bed and her smaller bag in my chair.

“There you go.” I said with my hands on my hips.

“Thank you, Bubby,” she rubbed my arm up and down a few times as she looked over my room with apparent approval.

“Well, get yourself unpacked. I’ll get dinner in the oven.”

“In the oven?” she repeated, eyebrows raised, apparently impressed.

I laughed, “Don’t get your hopes up. It’s pizza.”

My mom laughed and rolled her eyes, “Of course.”

“Are you going to tell me you don’t taksim escort like pizza?” I shot back at her.

“You know damn well I love pizza, smartass.” she pointed a finger in my face.

“Well then let me go put it in the oven!” I yelled back with cartoonish vigor, mostly trying to avoid acknowledging my sexual euphamism to my mother. To make matters worse, as I passed by her, she called me a turnd, and slapped my ass. Hard.

The name calling was usual.

The ass slapping, not quite so usual. One thing I had come to learn over my adult years is that my mom was a bit of a freak. Growing up as a kid I used to have a room right next to hers. And I would hear her and her second husband, (my first step-dad) having sex, and she dirty talked like nothing I’ve ever seen, and made some of the sexiest noises I ever heard. So it was difficult to not have sexual images of my mother growing up.

Then there was the new years party when I was nineteen. By this time she had divorced the second husband and moved on to Roger, who at this point was still a decent guy. We had my aunt and uncle and our cousins come over, and all the parents got shit faced on martinis, and my mom had gotten up in the living room and started dancing to Shania Twain, and at one point started dancing in front of me, and even flashed me her tits at the end of the song. It was for less than a second, but afterwards she was so red in the face, and she couldn’t stop smiling. Neither could I. I think that was the first time I openly allowed myself to fantasize about fucking my mom.

So when she spanked me, it was difficult not to read too much into it.

Nonetheless, I made my way to my kitchen and set it to preheat to 450 degrees, and leaned against the counter in waiting. I thought back to that new years party, and remembered the look on my mothers face, and remembered her tits. I couldn’t believe they were still so sexy. Four kids she had, and her tits were nearly perfect. I won’t lie and say perky, but they were still shaped beautifully.

When the oven went off I realized I had been day dreaming about my mom the entire time, and had gotten quite a chub considering I was wearing jeans. I looked down. It was definitely noticeable.

I mentally slapped myself a few times to try and focus on pizza. There’s nothing sexy about pizza.

When my mom came back up stairs, she immediately sat herself in front of the tv where we had all of our dvds and blu rays on display.

“Lets watch a movie over dinner.” she said.

Watching movies with us kids was one of her favorite things to do. I’m pretty sure it was because watching movies was the only thing that got us to stop fighting. Provided we agreed on what to watch.

With David and Melissa’s vote included, we agreed to watch the Whole Nine Yards. One of my personal favorites. We all watched and enjoyed the movie with no interruptions, unless you count nudging away two basenji dogs from your plate for the first 15 minutes of the movie.

Then came the part of the movie that I always prepare myself for when watching it with my mom. Mathew Perry’s wife in the movie has sex with a hitman, and it’s a fairly hot scene for about a minute and a half. As a kid I was so uncomfortable watching it with my mom in the same room I’d always conveniently get up and go to the bathroom and just wait until I knew it would be over.

This time I figured, we’re all adults, it’s not that big of a deal.

So the sex scene came.

And nothing happened.

What a surprise.

It came and went, and my mother didn’t move a muscle, nor did I. A few scenes later, however, Melissa got up to make popcorn. I paused it since the popcorn maker was old and therefor loud as fuck. My mom then leaned over, and tapping her hand on my upper thigh a few times, she said, “You know you don’t have to sleep on the mattress tonight if you don’t want to. You can share the bed with your mom like old times.”

I looked over and she had a look on her face that seemed almost like she was taunting. It was a look I had seen on her before, it said, I dare you to defy me, watch what happens.

“Sure,” I smiled at her. She smiled, and leaned her head in on my shoulder and rubbed her palm up and down my thigh. I took a deep breath and tried to exhale slowly, and of course immediately noticed the low cut of my mother’s shirt allowed me to see her cleavage perfectly. Looking closer, I could even see the blue bra underneathe.

I felt my cock thickening against my thigh.

Stop it, I said to myself, forcing myself to look straight at the TV. But the throbbing wouldn’t stop. It pressed firmly against the inside of my thigh, and, looking down, it was definitely obvious.

“Who wants popcorn?” Melissa asked as the popper finally shut off and left us in silence.

“I do!” I said, seeing an opportunity for myself.

She poured half of the bounty into a large bowl for me and my mom to share, and I went to rest it in my lap, but whether she meant şişli escort it or not, my mother went to grab the bowl at the same time from the bottom, and so the back of her hand ended up caught between the bowl and my lap. In reality, as she pulled away, the back of her hand rubbed firmly against my aching cock.

No fucking way she didn’t notice that, I say to myself.

“So I have a question before we start the movie again.” My mom suddenly asked.

“Yeah?” I said, my heart beating a million miles an hour.

Why are you hard with your mother next to you? I expected her to ask.

“How much is weed here for you?” she asked instead, as casually as if she had asked the price of gas.

I was floored. I panicked. Fear suddenly drained all the blood from cock, as the one and only positive to this change of events. I couldn’t think of how to answer that without letting her know I smoke, just in case it was a coincidental question.

“Depends on where you get it,” came David’s quick answer, and I made a mental note to thank him later for saving my life.

“Where do you get it?” my mom asked again of me.

“W-well, I -uh, I just have a guy I go to.”

“Oh.” she said simply. “Is he better than the shops around here?”

“Weed’s not legal in BC?” David asked, leaving me reeling at this conversation.

“No, they’ve got medical shops, if you have a card. But nothing like the recreational shops here.” She turned to me again. “You didn’t know I knew you smoked, did you?” she asked with a knowledgeable grin on her face.

David and Melissa looked wide-eyed at me.

“I did not!” I conceded, finally giving up the facade, and turning back to her in disbelief. “How did you find out?”

“I could smell it in your room.” she answered with a smile.

“Son of a bitch!” I exclaimed. “I spent all day trying to get that smell out of there!”

“Well, I used to smoke pot like it was my job so, you know my nose is sensitive to the scent.”

Melissa and David burst out in laughter while I simply stared at her aghast.

“What!” was all I could say to her.

“Oh yeah,” she laughed, repositioning herself now with her hand wedged between her thighs and her feet bouncing off the edge of the couch .

Is she getting nervous? I wondered.

“Like you know how I never let you see my high school year books?” she began with a creeping laugh. I nodded, awaiting her response, and she said, “because all over the place people wrote, ‘High Sarah’ instead of ‘Hi Sarah’ cuz I was stoned all the time.”

“Oh my gosh!” I yelled, looking at my mother in a whole new light now. Honestly it made me love her even more. It was like a weight was lifted off my chest and replaced with a little puppy to cuddle.

“Yeah I did some crazy stuff, Bub.” she grinned with a positively devilish look about her. “I even did meth for a few months until I got pregnant with your brother.”

At that I had to stand and take a step back.

“Are you fuckin serious!”

“Watch your mouth!” she said with a motherly tone but a smile about her nonetheless.

“Oh, I’m sorry, Mrs. Eisenberg,”

“That’s a bad joke, Eisenberg only cooked the meth.” David chimed in.

“I seriously cannot believe what I am hearing right now.”

“There’s a lot about your mother you don’t know,” she said with a look up at me that I can honestly say I had never seen on her before.

It turned me on like nothing I had ever experienced. As my cock twitched with growth once more I sat back down beside her, sitting sideways with my arm on the back of the couch, facing her.

“What else don’t I know about you?” I asked, completely enraptured with this new side of my mother.

“I haven’t done anything else, drug-wise, and I never touched meth again once I found out i was pregnant with your brother.”

My brother was her first child, so I was thankful to hear that at least.

“And you better not be doing any other shit either, Aaron Ronald.” her motherly tone taking over her again in an instant.

David smirked to himself in the front of the room, “Ronald,” he murmured.

“I swear, weed is all I’ve ever done.”

“Well, good. I’m glad. Now let’s finish this movie. She said turning to face the screen once more, and as if there could be no further discussion on the matter, Melissa, David and I all exchanged bewildered looks and unpaused the movie.

It was everything I could do to keep focused on the movie now. With my mother reaching into the bowl of popcorn in my lap, her hand always so close to my cock, and being able to look down her shirt and see her tits for as long as I want at any moment. She leaned on my chest now while David and Melissa were sitting in a chair in front of us with their back to us. And so I couldn’t resist. I stared down at my moms tits nearly the entire second half of the movie, reveling in the feeling of my dick pulsing with vigor against my jeans. Part of me wanted my mom to see it and start rubbing it. But that kind of shit only ever happens in pornos.

Despite my rational mind, images of my mother at my age in the seventies began to swirl in my mind. I imagined her with perkier tits and a tiny waste, nice firm ass, and a fat blunt in one hand and of course my dick in the other. Her eyes as red as the head of my dick as she squeezed it and licked it.

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