Seduced by Best Friend's Mom
Copyright© 2025 by CherieSin
Chapter 2
Erotica Story: Chapter 2 - Jake’s weekend at his best friend Nate’s house takes a sultry turn when Nate’s captivating mother, Val, steps into the frame. With her teasing smiles and lingering touches, Val blurs the line between playful and provocative. As Nate leaves for the weekend, Jake finds himself alone with her magnetic charm, caught in a dance of subtle seduction that leaves him questioning what’s real. A sunlit pool, a shared blanket, a whispered goodnight, every moment pulses with forbidden tension.
Caution: This Erotica Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Fa/Fa Consensual Mind Control Reluctant Romantic Lesbian Heterosexual Fiction Massage Masturbation Sex Toys Big Breasts Body Modification Size Slow
It was weird, waking up in someone else’s bed for the second morning in a row.
I laid there for a while, unmoving, staring at the ceiling while the early light crept in through the guest room blinds. My body was already buzzing, thick with heat. My cock was hard. Unreasonably hard. It ached under the blanket, throbbing with the same pulsing tension I’d fallen asleep with.
And the first thought that filled my head wasn’t just her. It was the way she whispered goodnight. The way her bare breast brushed against my shoulder. The smell of her skin. Her lips. That robe.
I closed my eyes and let my hand drift down.
My fingers slid beneath the waistband of my boxers and wrapped around the base of my cock. It twitched, desperate. I started stroking slowly, barely breathing. My hips shifted. My mind spiraled. I pictured her robe falling open. Her eyes on me.
Her voice in my ear.
“You poor thing...”
I jerked harder, faster, heat spreading through my gut. I was so close. One more stroke. One more second-
Footsteps.
Soft. Bare. Coming up the stairs.
I froze.
The floor creaked just outside the door and I yanked the blanket over myself, heart slamming in my chest. My cock throbbed painfully, still slick in my hand, still exposed beneath the covers. I barely had time to breathe before the door opened.
Val stepped in like nothing was out of place.
She wore a different robe today. White with pink trim, fluffy and casual, tied loose at the waist. It clung to her just right. Her legs were bare. Her hair was tied back in a bun, a few strands loose around her face.
“Morning,” she said softly.
I swallowed hard. “Morning.”
“I was just about to make coffee,” she said. “You hungry?”
I nodded, trying not to look guilty. My cock was still hard. Still pulsing under the sheets.
She didn’t look at it. Didn’t have to.
“I’ll meet you downstairs,” she added, then turned and walked out with slow, quiet steps.
I laid there for a second, dizzy and unfinished, sweat cooling on my chest. I adjusted myself awkwardly, tucked my cock back into my boxers, and pulled on the clothes I’d worn the night before.
The hallway smelled like her. Vanilla. Skin. Heat.
I followed it downstairs.
She was already in the kitchen, back to me, humming as she flipped something in the skillet. The robe shifted around her hips when she moved. Tighter now. Tied just enough to push her breasts together in a soft swell.
She didn’t look up when I walked in.
“There you are.” she said with a smile.
I sat down at the island, trying not to stare. My cock still throbbed faintly, a dull, needy ache between my legs.
“Did you sleep okay?” she asked, glancing over her shoulder.
“Yeah. Yeah, I did.”
She placed a plate in front of me. Pancakes. Eggs. Two strips of bacon. Then she slid a mug of coffee across the counter.
“Here is your coffee. Black, right?”
I nodded. “Yeah. Thanks.”
Val leaned against the counter across from me and sipped her own mug. The robe shifted again. One leg crossed over the other, and the hem pulled higher on her thigh. Her expression stayed soft. Calm. Like nothing had happened.
“Your mom must be wondering where you are,” she said.
Shit.
I blinked. “She’s cool. I told her I was staying over at Nate’s.”
Val raised an eyebrow. “Two nights?”
I scratched the back of my neck. “Yeah. I mean ... we’ve done that before.” She looked at me for a long second, then smiled.
“Well,” she said. “Thank you for keeping me company. This weekend would’ve been so quiet without you.”
The way she said it made it hard to swallow.
“Are you ... um ... are you gonna say anything to Nate? About me being here?”
Val tilted her head slightly. “You mean the truth?”
I nodded.
She sipped her coffee again. “We’ll just say I was feeling lonely and you were sweet enough to stick around. You’re kind like that.”
Her voice was gentle. But the words twisted in my chest.
“Okay,” I said quietly.
She stepped forward and bent to kiss the top of my head. Her fingers brushed through my hair.
“Good boy.”
My cock throbbed again beneath the table.
She didn’t look back. Just turned toward the stove. And I sat there, breath held, wanting to go back home. I really couldn’t take it anymore. Thankfully, after we were done with breakfast she asked me if I’m ready to go home and I nodded.
She helped me gather my things like it was nothing. My phone, my charger, the crumpled shirt I’d left near the guest bed. She moved through the house calmly, humming to herself, not rushed, not saying much at all. It felt like a normal morning.
Except nothing about it was normal.
She handed me my hoodie from where it had fallen over the arm of the couch. Her fingers lingered on mine as I took it.
“Don’t forget anything,” she said.
Her voice was light. Effortless. But something about it made my stomach clench. We stepped outside into the soft heat of late morning. The sun hit the driveway, warm and bright, and the pavement radiated against my shoes. She clicked the car open with her key fob, then slid into the driver’s seat without waiting for me to open my door.
I sat down beside her, still holding that tight, unsettled feeling in my chest. Val drove with one hand on the wheel, the other resting lazily on her thigh. She wore sunglasses now, reflective and dark, hiding her eyes. Her white tank top was thin, almost sheer in the sunlight, and clung tight across her chest. No bra. Her nipples pressed clearly through the fabric, and the seatbelt cut between her breasts like a frame. I tried not to look. Tried to keep my eyes on the road. But it was impossible not to notice. Not to imagine how she had looked when she got dressed. How intentional it had to be.
The car was quiet at first. Just the low hum of the engine and the whisper of wind through a cracked window.
At the second red light, her hand drifted sideways. Lightly. Casually. And landed on my leg.
Not high. Not aggressive. Just enough to make my breath catch.
I stiffened.
“You’re tense,” she murmured.
“I’m fine.”
She didn’t move her hand.
The warmth of her skin soaked through the denim, and I could feel my cock begin to respond before I could stop it. I shifted in my seat slightly, trying to adjust, hoping she didn’t notice. But she noticed everything.
“I’ve really enjoyed spending time with you,” she said, her voice just barely above the engine.
“I ... yeah. Same.”
She slid her thumb in a slow circle against the fabric. Almost nothing. But it made everything worse.
“Don’t be so nervous, baby. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
Didn’t I?
Her words from the night before echoed in my skull. The way she kissed my temple. The way her robe slipped. The way she whispered sweet dreams with her hand on my cock like it was the most natural thing in the world.
I swallowed hard.
The light turned green. She kept driving. Kept her hand right where it was. My thoughts spiraled the rest of the way home. Her voice, her touch, the way the breeze lifted her hair as she drove. I kept my hands folded in my lap, fingers tight. My jeans were too stiff now, too tight across my crotch, and I hated how aware I was of everything.
She turned onto my street with no warning. Calm. Smooth.
The house came into view.
Her hand slipped away like it had never been there.
“Do you want me to walk you in?” she asked, almost teasing.
I shook my head quickly. “No. I’m good.”
She smiled.
“I’ll miss having you around,” she said.
I didn’t answer. I couldn’t.
Then she leaned over, kissed my cheek lightly, and reached across me to open my door.
“Go on, baby.”
Her voice was soft. Final.
I stepped out into the warmth of the early morning with my heart pounding, jeans tight, mind burning. I shut the door and stood there on the sidewalk while she pulled away.
My mom didn’t say much when I came in.
“You were gone all weekend?” she asked from the couch, eyes half-watching a cooking show.
“Yeah. Nate and I were just gaming. Lost track of time.”
She nodded, barely interested. “You hungry?”
“I’m good. We ate.”
“You crash there both nights?”
“Yeah.”
She didn’t press further.
I went upstairs, shut the door behind me, and dropped onto my bed. It wasn’t even noon yet. The sunlight spilling through the blinds was bright, uninviting. I laid there for a few minutes, staring at the ceiling, unsure what the hell I was supposed to feel. My skin still buzzed. My cock had only softened slightly during the ride home. I could still feel her hand on my leg. Still hear her voice. Her kiss on my cheek. The scent of her robe.
I peeled off my clothes and stepped into the shower. The water was hot. Too hot. I stood there longer than I meant to, letting the spray hit my chest, then leaned forward, forehead against the tile. I was so hard again I could barely think.
I wanted to jerk off.
So badly.
But I didn’t.
I dried off, threw on a clean shirt, and paced my room barefoot like that would help. I grabbed my phone, thought about texting Nate. Put it down again.
My thoughts wouldn’t stop.
Her voice the night before. “You poor thing.” Her breast brushing my shoulder. Her hand over my cock.
I sat on the edge of the bed, fingers twitching. I didn’t know if it was real. I didn’t know if I wanted it to be. Then I laid down, phone next to me, arm over my face, chest tight. That was how I stayed for almost two hours. Just trying to breathe. Just trying to not touch myself.
Then my phone buzzed.
Val [2:12 PM] Coffee? I’m not ready to give you back to the world just yet. ❤️
My stomach flipped. I stared at the screen, heart hammering in my chest.
Me [2:12 PM] Sure ... When?
Val [2:13 PM] Fifteen minutes. If you’re up for it. ☕💋
Me [2:13 PM] I thought you said goodbye.
Val [2:14 PM] I said “go on,” not “goodbye.” There’s a difference, baby.
My throat went dry.
Me [2:14 PM] Yeah. I guess there is.
Val [2:14 PM] Besides ... I wasn’t finished looking at you yet. I licked my lips, breath shallow.
Me [2:14 PM] What are we doing?
Ten seconds of silence. Then twelve. Then twenty.
Val [2:15 PM] Having coffee. That’s all. Unless you want more. Do you, Jake?
I didn’t answer. My cock pressed hard against the inside of my shorts.
Val [2:16 PM] I’ll be outside in fifteen. Don’t keep me waiting.
I dropped the phone on my chest. Closed my eyes. I already knew I’d go.
I stood in front of the mirror, heart racing like I was about to get interviewed on national television instead of ... whatever the hell this was. Coffee. Just coffee. Right.
I ran a hand through my hair for the fifth time, tugged the hem of my shirt, then stripped it off and tried another. Dark gray. Slim fit. Made my shoulders look a little broader. I left the top two buttons undone and stared at myself. Still looked like me. But ... cleaner. Tighter. Like I gave a shit.
I changed my jeans too. Swapped out the wrinkled ones from earlier for darker denim, something that didn’t scream slept-in. My heart hadn’t stopped thudding since I read her last message. My cock hadn’t softened much either. The weight of it throbbed slightly in my shorts before I adjusted and zipped up, annoyed at myself for how easily she messed with me.
I grabbed my phone.
Me [2:25 PM] Can you park a little further down the road this time? Like past the Hendersons’ house?
It didn’t take long.
Val [2:26 PM] Of course, baby. Wouldn’t want mommy or daddy to get curious. 😉
I exhaled slowly and pocketed the phone, pacing my room like it would calm me down. It didn’t. I heard her text before I saw it.
Val [2:31 PM] I’m here. 💋
My chest tightened.
I moved fast, two steps at a time down the stairs, trying to act normal, calm, casual. My mom sat on the couch, remote in hand, eyes half-watching something on TV.
“Hey,” I said, “I’m heading out.”
She looked over lazily. “Where to?”
I didn’t flinch. “Nate’s mom’s taking us out for pizza.”
She blinked once, then nodded. “Nice. Tell her I said hi. Enjoy the pizza.”
I mumbled a quick “will do” and stepped out the door before the lie got heavy. The heat outside hit immediately, sticky June air wrapping around me like a second shirt. I looked down the street. And there she was.
Two houses down, parked perfectly along the curb.
The car idled quietly, sunlight flashing off the windshield. And behind the glass. Her. I walked toward it slowly, heart hammering again, pulse in my throat. My hand shook a little when I reached for the door. I climbed in.
And before I could even shut it, she had her arms around me.
“God, I missed you,” she teased with a soft laugh, pulling me against her like it had been days instead of hours. Her lips brushed my cheek just enough to make my skin burn.
I froze, breath caught in my throat.
She pulled back only enough to let me see her. Really see her.
That top. Christ.
It clung to her like it was part of her skin, tight and strapless, wrapped snug under her full breasts, lifting them perfectly, baring the smooth expanse of her shoulders and collarbones. Her cleavage was shameless, deep, soft, lit just right by the sun bleeding through the windshield. Her flat stomach showed just a hint beneath the wrap, taut and warm and tan.
And those jeans.
Loose at the waist, but hugging her hips like they were molded for it. Ripped, casual, perfect. When she shifted, the denim pulled tight around the swell of her ass, the kind of curve that made you want to stare and get punished for it.
She wore sunglasses again, big, dark, hiding her eyes but not the smirk tugging at her lips. Her mouth was soft with color. That lipstick. It wasn’t bold, but it made her lips look plump, kissable, wet. Like they belonged around something.
“Look at you,” she said, dragging her fingers down my chest. “All dressed up. Just for coffee?”
My mouth went dry.
“I...”
She giggled again, light and breathy, and pulled away just enough to face forward. Her hand still rested on my thigh.
“Buckle up, baby,” she said. “We’ve got a table to find.”
The café was small and tucked between a dry cleaner and a florist. The kind of place with indie music playing softly overhead and real mugs instead of paper cups. It smelled like cinnamon, espresso, and something faintly floral. The light was warm through the windows, low and amber, like it wanted to touch everything.
Val looked unreal when she walked in.
Heads turned. Quiet glances over mugs. A man at the corner table paused mid-sip. A woman near the counter blinked slowly as Val passed, her hips rolling with that lazy, liquid stride like she didn’t even know the effect she had.
She knew.
She slid into the seat across from me like she owned the space, like the whole table had been waiting for her. Her bag landed softly on the chair beside her. Her sunglasses came off. Her eyes found mine.
And then she smiled.
“Still nervous?” she asked, sipping her iced coffee with that slow, unbothered grace.
“A little.”
“You don’t have to be,” she said, tilting her head. “We’re just two friends having a drink.”
My stomach twisted.
“Is that what we are?” I asked before I could stop myself.
She raised one perfectly arched eyebrow and paused, as if pretending to consider it.
“Would you rather we weren’t?” she said, smiling, but there was something sharper behind it.
I hesitated. “I don’t know.”
Val laughed. Not loud, but quick and knowing. Like I’d told a joke she expected.
“Relax,” she said, waving a hand. “It’s coffee. Don’t read a novel into it.”
I nodded, cheeks a little hot. Stupid.
She crossed her legs under the table, and the motion made her shirt shift against her skin. That strapless top clung to her like it was scared to let go, the subtle rise and fall of her chest impossible not to watch.
She caught me. Of course she did.
“So,” she said, stirring the ice in her cup with her straw. “How’s the world of teenage boys? Still playing late-night games and ghosting girls?”
“I don’t ghost,” I said, almost defensively.
Her eyes sparkled. “Mmm. That sounds like something a ghost would say.”
I shook my head, grinning in spite of myself. “You’re impossible.”
“Not impossible,” she said, eyes flicking down to her drink. “Just misunderstood.”
The air between us shifted. Softer. Quieter.
Then she looked up again, her voice lower this time. “You ever feel like things ... just stopped making sense for a while?”
I frowned. “Yeah. Lately.”
She nodded. “Happens. Happened to me, too.”
I waited, and she kept going.
“After the divorce, I used to wake up and forget I was alone. That first five seconds in the morning were the worst. You’d reach over ... and no one’s there.” She smiled a little, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “But eventually, you stop reaching.”
There was a silence after that. Not uncomfortable. Just real.
“I didn’t know it hit you that hard,” I said quietly.
“Everyone thinks it’s easier when you’re the one who leaves,” she said. “It’s not.”
Another pause.
“Do you regret it?”
She leaned back, sipped her drink, and let the silence hang for just a moment too long. “No,” she said finally. “But I regret wasting time trying to fix things that were already dead.”
My fingers tightened around my mug.
She noticed.
“You’ll learn that eventually,” she said, gently. “Some people are just bad medicine. Even if they used to taste sweet.”
I didn’t know what to say to that.
“You think you’re ever gonna get married?” she asked suddenly, tilting her head.
“I don’t know. I mean ... maybe?”
“Mmm.” She took another sip. “Don’t rush it. You’d make a terrible husband right now.”
“Gee, thanks.”
She smirked. “I’m just kidding. But you’re still soft in the center. You care too much.”
“And that’s bad?”
“Not bad,” she said, slowly licking a bit of cream from the edge of her straw. “Just ... dangerous. Makes people think they can keep you.”
She said it like a compliment. And not at the same time.
I stared at her, trying to piece her together. Every word felt like it meant something. But never the thing I thought it meant. It was like trying to read a map with missing cities.
“I like your shirt,” she said then, casually. “It fits you better than the one you had on yesterday.”
I blinked, caught off guard. “You noticed that?”
“I notice everything.”
And just like that, she looked away. Back toward the window. Like we hadn’t just been dissecting something sharp and personal. Like I hadn’t just been peeled a little.
“Time moves weird when you’re alone,” she said, almost to herself. “I started drinking iced coffee again just to feel summer on my tongue.”
I didn’t know what to do with that.
So I just nodded.
She smiled again, turned back to me, and let her foot brush mine lightly beneath the table. Just once. Just enough to feel it.
Then she looked me dead in the eyes.
“You gonna finish that muffin, or just stare at it like it owes you answers?”
I laughed, half-nervous, half-dizzy.
And she smiled.
Like she had me exactly where she wanted me.
We finished our drinks in soft, comfortable quiet. Val kept stirring the ice in her cup long after it was empty, letting the rhythm fill the silence. She didn’t rush. She never did. Eventually, she stood and grabbed her bag, adjusting the strapless top over her chest with a small tug that made my throat go tight.
“Ready?” she asked, like it was just another normal afternoon. I nodded, sliding my chair back, following her out into the late sun. The air was heavier now, summer pressing down from above and radiating off the pavement.
She didn’t seem to mind.
We got into her car without a word. I buckled in. She did too. Then she turned to me.
“Do you want to wait for Nate at my place?” she asked. Her tone was light. Innocent.
“Sure,” I said. It came out too quickly.
The drive was short. The city blurred past in smudges of green trees and quiet intersections. She drove with one hand on the wheel, the other resting in her lap, her fingers tapping softly to the beat of the music humming through the speakers. It was something lo-fi, smooth and wordless.
She glanced over at me once when we stopped at a light.
“You always this quiet?”
I shrugged. “Not always. I’m just thinking.”
“Dangerous habit.”
I smiled. “You asked a lot of questions back there.”
“Did I?” she said, feigning surprise.
“Yeah. Felt like I was being interviewed.”
“I was curious,” she said. “You have a very mysterious vibe.”
I scoffed. “I’m not mysterious.”
“Mmm. That’s exactly what someone mysterious would say.”
We both laughed. The light turned green. She pressed the gas gently, her fingers dancing back to the steering wheel.
“Music okay?” she asked.
“Yeah, I like it.”
She nodded. “Good. Nate usually hogs the aux with whatever garbage he finds on TikTok.”
I grinned. “Yeah, that checks out.”
When we pulled into her driveway, Nate’s car wasn’t there.
Val glanced at the empty space beside her house but said nothing. She killed the engine and stepped out. I followed, the air buzzing again. It was this quiet anticipation I couldn’t name.
She walked up the path ahead of me, barefoot again, the loose denim of her jeans dipping low on her hips with every step. The back of her top hugged her tight, the bare skin of her shoulders catching the light. She looked back once, catching my eyes, and smiled like she knew I was staring.
She pushed open the door, slow and smooth, and held it for me. I stepped in behind her. The familiar scent hit me all at once. Vanilla and heat and skin. Home, but not mine.
Her hand reached past me to close the door behind us. For a second, we stood there. Close. Too close. Her arm grazed mine, soft and warm. She turned her head and I could feel her breath near my jaw. Then she stepped back and slipped her shoes off with one toe.
“You want anything?” she called over her shoulder as she headed to the kitchen. “Water? Soda?”
“Uh ... water’s good.”
She filled a glass and handed it to me. Our fingers touched, and neither of us moved right away. Her nails skimmed lightly over my knuckles as she let go.
“You can leave your shoes on if you want,” she said, her voice light. “But I’m not your mom.”
I swallowed. “I noticed.”
She laughed softly and turned toward the living room, hips swaying in that loose, unbothered way that made my mouth dry. I followed.
The candle on the coffee table was still burning. Something creamy and slow and warm. Coconut and vanilla and maybe something floral beneath it. I couldn’t stop breathing it in. Couldn’t stop watching the way the hem of her jeans caught on her thighs as she sank down onto the couch.
“Come on,” she said, patting the cushion beside her. “I don’t bite.”
I sat, careful to leave a little space, though it felt stupid. Like pretending nothing about this was charged.
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