Mom Series
Copyright© 2025 by Laxu
Chapter 1
Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 1 - I lost everything in one month—my job, my girlfriend, my dog, even my house. With nowhere else to go, I called the one person I could always trust: my mom. She told me to come stay with her at her new condo on Padre Island. I thought she would be angry or give me a big lecture, but instead, she welcomed me with love, care, and a warm smile. Living with her again felt strange at first. We’ve always been close, more like friends than just mother and son. But now.....Read full story.
Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa mt/Fa Consensual Romantic Fiction Incest Mother Son Anal Sex Cream Pie First Massage Masturbation Oral Sex Pregnancy Safe Sex Sex Toys Squirting Tit-Fucking BBW Big Breasts Slow
After mom left for work, I cleaned up the kitchen, sat and ate breakfast.
During breakfast, I couldn’t help but think that, damn, I’d had sex with my mom. My own mother. I’d actually put my penis inside her. I couldn’t believe it. My own mother. I’d fucked her. I’d actually fucked her. Not just once, but twice.
The realization of it hit like a ton of bricks. Then I started to worry. We’d fucked without a condom. What if I got her pregnant? She wasn’t that old, my mom, she probably could still get pregnant. What if I’d knocked her up? What would we do then?
I wanted to talk to someone. But who could I turn to? None of my friends would believe me. Any shrink I talked to would probably try to send me to a psych ward. I suddenly felt alone and confused. My thoughts raced...
So ... So what now? What do we do? Where would mom and I’s relationship go? Would we date casually or would it get serious? Could it get serious? Could you have a serious romantic relationship with your mother?
And what if we did? What if we did have a serious relationship? How would it work? We couldn’t stay here, could we? What could we do?
Maybe ... Maybe we could sneak off, run away to another country, like somewhere romantic in Europe, somewhere around the Mediterranean. Maybe get married.
I thought of us as husband and wife, traveling the world. Us in France, strolling the streets of Paris, hand in hand, sitting in cafes, drinking espresso out of tiny cups, eating fancy cheese, drinking wine and fucking in the afternoons. I saw us there.
We could do that, couldn’t we? Sure, we’d have to change our names, take new identities, but we could do it...
If mom was indeed pregnant, I’d have to marry her. And knew I’d certainly make a better husband to her than dad ever was. That much I knew for sure.
Getting up from the table, I did my best to compose myself, loaded my dishes into the machine, and slapped some cold water on my face. I poured a dash of whiskey into my coffee and wished mom was there so I could talk to her about everything.
At that particular moment in time, there was no one in the world I wanted to see or talk to more than her.
The rest of the day I thought about mom and did housework, cleaning and scrubbing everything and I searched for jobs online. I cooked some pasta, too, late afternoon, so it would be ready for mom when she came back.
Finally, at 5:30, she got home. She looked tired. And pissed.
“Hey mom...” I said, meeting her at the door, my arms outstretched, ready to hug and kiss her hello.
“Don’t you ‘hey’ me!” She snapped back, in a hostile tone.
“What’s wrong?” I inquired, confused about her sudden change in demeanor from this morning to now.
“I’ve been thinking about what happened last night and this morning, too. And I’m not comfortable with it at all. I’m not comfortable with this...”
“Look, I’m sorry, mom, about last night. I just got carried away in the moment.”
“Sorry is something you say about breaking a vase. It doesn’t cut it when you basically date rape your mother! You acted like an out of control, horny 8th grader! This morning too! Though I’m probably just as much to blame for that one...”
“Well I don’t know what to say ... I feel bad. I wanted to have sex with you, mom. You’re beautiful. When you were naked around me, I just lost it. I guess part of it was because it’d been a while since I’d, you know ... Listen, what can I do? What can I do, mom? What can I do to make it better? To make it up to you?”
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