Sharing Mommy
Copyright© 2026 by INtrinSicliValud
Chapter 5
Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 5 - Church-going, married to a distracted husband, and beautiful, Leah Poole makes several mistakes. First, watching her way-too-smart son Barry’s lean physique in the shower. Second, the torrid incestuous romp that’s followed. But now the whole school knows, her son is changing, and he’s tapped her to chaperone a class trip. Based on lalrinkima619’s concept.
Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa mt/Fa Fa/ft Consensual Fiction Incest Mother Son Oral Sex
Mrs. Henderson, Barry’s history teacher, was the one calling me into the shade of the bus. The rail-thin woman wore a yellow flowered sweater over a charcoal gray dress. The faint aroma of lavender and rose water met my nostrils. Had a frumpy look to her, and rumor had it she’d be asleep in seconds; that was her motif during end-of-day class periods.
No sooner had I arrived than she started to speak, explaining my role, the route, blah, blah, blah. I listened ... sort of. From the corner of my eye, my attention remained on the posse around my son and the tower that was Cullen Daniels. They stood stationary, letting the other kids enter the bus.
The African-American spoke to the pack’s handsome leader, and both smirked in my direction. Along my spine, those tingles zipped even quicker. Cullen replied, and the shorter figure nodded, then said something to my son. Barry only returned the nod; his eyes narrowed, and his chin was quivering. The darker boy moved, and I flinched as he drew close. But after a scan of my frame, driving those tingles far deeper, he marched past, heading for the bus.
“Are you alright, Mrs. Poole?”
The teacher’s voice snapped my focus to the woman. A narrow, gray-lined brow was furrowed.
“Leah. And yes, I’m, uh, fine.”
“You seem distracted.”
“Ah, well, it’s been a while since I’ve—”
“Not to worry.” She laughed, and bony fingers patted my arm. “They’re angels. A bit rowdy, perhaps, but once their phones are out, we’ll have a hard time getting them to do anything.”
“Ladies! Need to get moving! Got about four hours to Benton. Expectin’ some weather later,” called a gruff voice.
A heavy-jowled head was poking from the open bus entry. The teacher gave him a quick nod.
“Oh, right. Sorry, Tim,” she replied before smiling at me and moving away.
Her footfalls in thick-soled buff sneakers were awkward, but she wasn’t slow and soon disappeared inside. As I took a step to follow, my gaze landed on Barry. My son didn’t move.
Instead, Cullen walked closer, and I gulped while stepping up into the cooler, darker interior. After a quick grin at the driver settling behind the wheel, the faux-flowery scent of upholstery cleaner drew my focus along the rows.
Nope, not a standard yellow school bus; they’d laid out some money for a charter. The plush seats were spacious, with thick armrests, and pairs lined a central aisle. Already those at the front were filled. In the spot behind the driver, Mrs. Henderson pulled out a colorful woolen bag of knitting gear. Toward the rear, Cullen’s deputy was ushering a few kids from the back, and they shuffled, heads-down, to other places. Beyond him, a narrow door led to a small bathroom.
A nudge from behind made me flinch. Seriously? Oh, was I ever ready to spin and let that boy have both barrels, but he pressed again, and hardness mashed into my rear. While swallowing the huge lump that suddenly blocked my throat, I took the hint and moved further along the narrow corridor.
As the teacher predicted, the students were already engrossed in their phones. When I found an empty seat and began to move for it, the nudge again struck.
Too much. My teeth gritted. “You can’t—”
My hoarse whisper faltered after a glance over my shoulder. First, Cullen possessed the prettiest, darkest, most dangerous, sexiest eyes. No, shouldn’t have thought any of that ... not at all. Second, he wore a man’s aftershave, not the overwrought scent most boys his age preferred. The subtle yet enticing aroma made my nostrils flare. Third, he was not smirking. Indeed, his face wore no expression. Nor did my silent son, watching from beyond a broad shoulder.
“You’re holding us up, Mrs. Poole.”
Wow, for a teen, such a deep voice. Nope, pulse roaring, I couldn’t form words; simply spun around and continued up the aisle. Did I bother to slide into any other empty seats? No. Did the thought enter my mind just to have him shove into my butt again? Yes, may the merciful Lord help me; it did.
At last, we reached the final row. One peek at him and I slid into the spot by the window. He landed in the seat beside me. A quick yank of a large hand and no armrest separated us.
“Babe, what about me?”
The pink and white-wrapped girl’s voice, whiny with a British accent mixed with a mysterious lilt, came from somewhere beyond him.
“Not now, Eva. Go sit somewhere else.”
That grumbling tone made my frame shake. The lump in my throat grew larger as I crossed my legs.
“But—”
“I said, go sit somewhere else.”
“Um, okay, but—”
“Barry, take that seat.”
He pointed to one of the spots across the aisle, and my son moved. The tower of young muscle beside me glanced at the redhead. She also bore the prettiest eyes, a vivid emerald green. They were flicking at him while flooded with adoration and desperation, or glowering at me.
“Sit next to him.”
Although she started to protest, his brow furrowed, and, pert boobs wobbling under the tight white top, she slumped into the seat. The other two boys in the entourage took the next row forward. Still in the aisle, the African-American scanned us, then the nearest places ... all unoccupied. When he glanced our way, Cullen nodded.
“Thanks, Ezra.”
“No prob,” the dark boy replied in a similar deep voice, before taking one of the seats in front of my son and the girl.
“Nice legs.”
At the growling comment, my heart thumped. A quick glance showed the wrap’s hem had peeled wide, baring both thighs. Although I swept the dress closed, he reached over and tugged it apart again.
“No!” I hissed before covering myself once more.
“Fine, suit yourself, Mrs. Poole.”
As the bus lurched forward, his arm rose. The supple purple and gold sleeve slid past my shoulders, and a solid class ring tapped on the window glass. When the hand draped lower, I gulped and stared into those black eyes. In the sunlight, the most beautiful brown speckles appeared, but offered no clue to the boy’s thoughts.
“So, um, what’s this all about?” I asked in a shaky voice.
His response was a smile that both tickled my heart and made me gulp. That hand lowered to cup the dress over my breast, and the world blinked.
“N-no,” I murmured.
“You’re a real pretty woman, Mrs. Poole. Beautiful.”
His fingers gave me the gentlest squeeze. Lace scraped a flaring nipple. Despite the sudden blast of heat roaring across every nerve, I batted his hand away. The offending digits landed on the window’s narrow sill.
“S-supermodel?” I mumbled, while blinking in a vain attempt to clear a sudden haze of red.
“Yeah. For sure.”
“I shouldn’t be here, um, with you.”
“Nope, don’t reckon you should.” The hand moved, again over the dress, but only dangled in midair. No matter; could feel its heat, and my pulse thundered. “And, what’s this all about? Well, you might wanna ask your son.”
“B-Barry?”
“Yep. He made a deal.”
“What?”
My gaze shot past him to the other seat. While the redhead stared daggers at me, my boy was watching with an arched eyebrow. That quiver in his jaw? It remained, but realization struck. Not fear. Nope, anticipation.
“Oh, no,” I murmured. “He couldn’t—”
“In fact, he did. So, exactly how playful are you, Mrs. Poole?”