I'm Her Medication
Copyright© 2025 by HMaster
Chapter 1
Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 1 - When mom got kidnapped and trained as a sex addict, I became her Medication. "A shudder went through Mom's body as she slowly parted her lips, letting me slip the tip of my thumb between them, feeling the wetness of her mouth, and then the tip of her tongue brushing against it."
Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Consensual Romantic Fiction Incest Mother Son Anal Sex Cream Pie First Massage Masturbation Oral Sex Safe Sex Sex Toys Tit-Fucking Big Breasts Slow
I was sweeping out the garage bay of the mechanic’s shop where I worked a summer job when I felt my cell phone buzzing in my coveralls. I pulled it out and a voice said, “Is this John Hunter? This is Ms. McCloud down at the Stay-Eez Inn. I was to let you know if...” she paused as if a bit uncomfortable.”
I sighed softly and then said, “Yes, ma’am. What room is she in?” I said this as I headed towards the office, already shrugging my way out of my oil stained coveralls.
There was a slight hesitation before the woman said, “Room 118.”
I replied, “Thanks,” and hung up the phone without waiting for a response. Stepping into the office, my boss, Tony Giatano looked up and when I said, “Gotta go -- it’s Mom,” he got a sad look on his face and just nodded. I was in my pickup truck and gone in a rush, trying to beat red lights as I rushed across town.
I pulled into the Stay-Eez Inn with a heavy heart. Every town has a motel like this one -- built back in the day -- long and flat and one story high -- the old classic motor inn where the cars park right in front of their rooms. Sometimes there’s a pool -- more often than not empty or with green algae floating on top due to neglect. Some places rent their rooms by the hour while others try to turn them into pseudo apartments and rent them by the week or the month. The Stay-Eez worked all those options.
I cruised down the line of doors counting them off until I came to Room 118. A minivan and a beat up looking Camero were parked outside and I pulled up next to the minivan, again heaving a great big sigh. As I climbed out, three guys emerged from 118, laughing and elbowing each other. Each looked sweaty -- two of them in dirty T-shirts and greasy jeans, the other, as big as the other two put together, had on an old, stained dress shirt with the sleeves cut off, showing off flabby muscles that once upon a time might have been impressive.
As they saw me making directly for the door -- the big guy laughed and said, “You’re late to the party, kid!”
The other guys thought this was funny and one of the skinnier fellows followed up with, “Don’t be worried, though -- if’n you don’t mind sloppy seconds and thirds, she’ll be more than willing! Hell, we’d still be at it if we ain’t had to get back to work!” I gave them a dirty look over my shoulder as I opened the door, my face turning red as they kept laughing as the climbed into the Camero. “Motherfuckers,” I muttered under my breath as I opened the door and steeled myself for what I might find.