Holy Fucking Shit: Like Mother, Like Daughter
Copyright© 2025 by The_Fountainhead
Chapter 12: Under Construction
Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 12: Under Construction - A cocky college quarterback comes home for one last wild summer and starts a no-strings fling with his little brother’s ex, eighteen-year-old amusement-park hellcat Holly. What begins as daily reckless sex explodes when Holly’s newly-divorced MILF mother Debbie discovers them—and realizes the filthy dreams that have haunted her for weeks all feature the same twenty-year-old stud now railing her daughter on the family-room couch. Permission is enthusiastically granted, boundaries shatter, and by
Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa mt/ft Ma/ft mt/Fa Fa/Fa Mult Teenagers Consensual Lesbian Heterosexual Fiction Incest Mother Daughter Light Bond Rough Spanking Group Sex Orgy Anal Sex Analingus Cream Pie Double Penetration Exhibitionism Facial Fisting Masturbation Oral Sex Sex Toys Squirting Voyeurism
Friday, June 28, 6:45 a.m.
The alarm hits, basement still dark. I’m already half-hard, replaying last night: Kelly’s pussy clenching around me, her moans in my ear, Holly’s mouth sliding down my cock, tasting Kelly on me. Fuck. I roll out of bed, dick tenting my boxers.
Shower’s hot, steam thick. I brace one hand on the tile, stroke slow, picturing Debbie, those dark eyes at dinner, the way her knee pressed mine, her flush when I poured the wine. Saturday. Holly gone. Debbie wet and waiting. I imagine her on her knees, lips stretched around me, eyes watering. Cum hits the wall hard, her name a growl in my throat.
Downstairs, Jack’s already cracking eggs. “Speed and agility after lawns? Coach texted drills.”
“Count me in.” I scarf toast, load the truck, mower, trimmer, edger. Four lawns. Four hours to plot.
First stop: Mr. Ramirez. Flat yard, easy money. He waves from the porch in a robe, coffee steaming.
I finish fast, sweat dripping down my abs. He inspects, nods. “Perfect as always. Heat getting to you?”
“Nah, used to it. Need anything else?”
“Trim the hedges? Extra twenty?” I do it quick, shirt clinging. He pays cash, tips ten. “Stay hydrated, kid.”
Mind on Debbie, Saturday, show up shirtless, say I forgot my water bottle. Watch her eyes drop to my chest, linger.
Second lawn: Mrs. Lang. Overgrown edges, weeds everywhere. Halfway through, I peel my shirt off, sweat glistening. Down the street, new construction. Half-built house, frame up, no workers today. Secluded lot, tools locked. Perfect. I picture Holly bent over a beam, skirt up, me behind her, rain tomorrow night. Dick twitches. I note the address.
Lang’s out. I load up. Saturday plan: Text Debbie after Holly leaves, “left tools in garage”? Casual. Get inside, corner her in the kitchen, hand on her throat, kiss until she moans.
Third lawn: The Millers. Big yard, pool. Mrs. Miller answers in yoga pants, sports bra, nipples hard from the AC. Camel toe bulging thick in the tight fabric. Jesus. She could stand to lose twenty pounds or so, but those tits are huge, spilling out the top, and her curves are pretty fucking hot.
“Shane, thank God. Grass is a jungle.”
“On it.” I mow shirtless, her eyes on my back, my ass. She watches from the deck, sipping iced tea.
After: “You make it look easy. Ever do pools?” Voice low, biting her lip.
“I can do just about anything you want, ma’am.” I wink, flexing subtly.
She smiles, slow. “I bet.” Hands me the check, fingers lingering. “Extra for the heat.”
She wants it. But Debbie, older, tighter, mine. Saturday, her legs around my waist, begging.
Home by 2. Jack’s got cones, ladders, football ready.
Drills: shuttle runs, ladder feet, cone weaves. Sweat pouring, muscles pumped. Jack: “You’re faster this year.”
“Gotta be. Coach’ll ride me if I’m slow.”
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