Adam and James and Lisa the Rewrite
Copyright© 2025 by Chris X
Chapter 1
Romance Sex Story: Chapter 1 - Adam had an underlying crush and love that he was about to confess to his friend, James, but not until later on that night. James and Adam have been best friends since grade school. They have been in each other's lives for a long time.
Caution: This Romance Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Fa mt Reluctant Heterosexual Fiction Cheating Indian Male AI Generated
“Are you watching us, James?” Adam’s voice was a low, possessive growl against Lisa’s throat, his hips never stopping their slow, deliberate rhythm.
Her answering moan was muffled by his shoulder, her nails digging into his back. “Yes...” she finally gasped, the word torn from her. “God, yes...”
The argument downstairs had been the final straw. James just turned up the volume on his game, the explosive sounds of digital warfare drowning out his parents’ latest battle. But Adam had watched him, his dark eyes serious.
“Your mom’s a super sweet lady,” Adam had said, his controller idle in his lap. “Why would your dad be a jerk to her like that?”
James had just shrugged, a familiar knot of frustration tightening in his stomach. “They’re always fighting. I’m sick of it.”
“I don’t know, man. She’s beautiful, nice, intelligent...” Adam’s voice had trailed off, a faint blush coloring his tanned cheeks.
James had finally looked away from the screen, a slow grin spreading across his face. “Dude. It almost sounds like you have a little crush on my mom.”
The confession that followed had been startling in its honesty. Adam’s palms were sweating, his nerves firing every time he was near her, after months of secret admiration. James had laughed it off at first, but a seed had been planted. He saw his mom through Adam’s eyes—not just as his mother, but as a woman. A beautiful, neglected woman whose husband was never home.
And the more he looked, the more he agreed. She is hot.
So, he’d given his blessing. A wild, surreal permission for his best friend to pursue his mother. And Adam, emboldened, had taken the first step that evening, offering to get drinks.
Downstairs, Lisa had been wiping down the counter, the tension from her fight with her husband a tight coil in her shoulders. She’d jumped a little when Adam appeared, his smile bright and genuine.
“Hi, Mrs. Rand.” He’d leaned against the island, his gaze intense.
“Adam, sweetheart. You boys need something?” She’d fetched a water bottle, her movements automatic.
He’d taken it, his fingers brushing hers. A tiny, electric jolt. “Do you need help with anything?” he’d asked, and the question felt loaded, his dark eyes holding hers.
She’d dismissed him, of course. Told him to go play. But he’d persisted. “I just want to help you. I want to take care of you.”
The words had struck a chord so deep it vibrated within her. No one had wanted to take care of her in years. Then, he’d asked for a hug. It seemed so innocent, so sweet. But when his strong arms wrapped around her, pulling her firmly against his chest, it was anything but. He’d held her a moment too long, his nose buried in her hair, inhaling deeply. She’d felt the solid muscle of his young body, so different from her husband’s softness, and a treacherous warmth had pooled low in her belly.
She’d chastised herself the moment he left. He’s a kid. James’s friend. But the feeling of his embrace, the startling possessiveness of it, lingered on her skin like a brand.
The next day, he was there again, helping her move boxes. She’d tried not to stare, but it was impossible. When he stretched to reach a high shelf, his shirt rode up, revealing a trail of dark hair that disappeared into his jeans. Her breath had hitched. She loved hairy men. Her husband was slick and bald. This was ... primal. Adam’s body was a testament to youth and latent power.
As they moved a table together, his hand brushed against hers. The spark was undeniable this time. Their eyes met, and the air crackled with unspoken want. He was just a boy, but in that moment, he looked at her with the hunger of a man.
Later, as she vacuumed, he came up behind her. His voice, lower than she’d ever heard it, murmured close to her ear. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Rand, but you are looking super hot today.”
She’d turned, her heart hammering against her ribs. The formality of ‘Mrs. Rand’ on his lips suddenly sounded like the dirtiest endearment. “Thank you, Adam. That’s very sweet of you.” But her voice was breathy, wanting.
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