Mom Series
Copyright© 2025 by Laxu
Chapter 12
Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 12 - 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
Mom and I rode the elevator to the lobby and went by cab back to our hotel in silence. Not an awkward silence, more like an understood one.
When we got back to our room, I figured I had to say something. So I did.
“That was fun, wasn’t it?” I asked rhetorically, getting out of my clothes. Mom was undressing and readying up for a shower.
“It was. But please don’t tell anyone about ... us ... again, suge. I don’t think it’s a good idea.”
“Me neither. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything.”
“It’s OK. But you liked it? I know you must have liked her.”
“I did. But not as much as I like you. You seemed to like her too. And him.”
“I did like her. And him. But not as much as I like you.”
Mom embraced me, her huge naked tits mashing up against my bare chest. Her velvety skin on mine was practically the best feeling in the world.
“We should do it again sometime.” I said, kissing mom softly on the lips.
“We should. Just not too often. But it’s fun sometimes. Maybe we can do it in Paris.”
“Paris?” I asked. My head all of a sudden started spinning. All the champagne and wine were exacting their inevitable tolls.
“We can talk about that tomorrow morning, suge. I’m fixing to take a shower.”
“Tomorrow morning then.” I told her, stumbling backward and falling into the bed.
Next thing I knew, it was tomorrow morning. I’d passed out sideways on the bed. But mom had been sweet enough to wrap the covers over me.
Mom was nowhere to be found in the room when I woke up, so I dressed, brushed my teeth, and went downstairs, to the dining hall, for the breakfast buffet. I estimated I’d probably see her there, near the fruit table, and, sure enough, I did see her, though she was helping herself to a Texas-sized plate of buttermilk pancakes instead of fruit.
She pointed me over to our table, and I sat down and ordered some coffee and rubbed at my pounding, hangover ravaged forehead.
Mom took a seat across from me at the table. She looked so pretty. How she managed to look so damn radiant the morning after a booze and fuckfest like that boggled my mind.
“There’s something we need to talk to about.” She said demurely. That phrase, when uttered by a woman, usually wasn’t good.