Sharing Mommy
Copyright© 2026 by INtrinSicliValud
Chapter 6
Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 6 - 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
“Hey Cullen. We’re stopping for lunch.”
The voice of Cullen’s deputy, Ezra, snapped me awake. With me still leaning on the solid chest, handsome’s head lifted from the top of my hair. His comment about Eva must’ve had an impact because my palm had found a cozy home on his warm crotch. No, not a hand job, but those jeans were thumping.
Pure wickedness made me give the impressive bulge a gentle squeeze as I rose and shook out my tresses. Serenaded by his throaty groan, I clasped the dress together, then sat upright to look around. The other kids were gazing out the windows as the bus descended a curving ramp and headed toward a small diner.
A glance at Barry made my heart thunder. He was talking with Eva, and she was grinning. When I looked at Cullen, he only gave me a slow nod. The heavy arm left my shoulders, and they suddenly felt so cold.
“Good,” I said as we slowed before the quaint eatery surrounded by a wide swathe of asphalt.
“Huh, what do you mean?” he asked.
I peeked at his taut jeans, then chuckled. “Gonna have to wine and dine me first, bad boy.”
Yep, pure wantonness had also raised its slimy head. Lord, forgive me, a beaming smile slid onto my face while surveying that broad-jawed, youthful visage. Bottomless dark eyes fluttered when I added a brief pat on his thigh before turning to the window.
For a moment, when entering the diner in Cullen’s wake, anxiety bubbled. Would Mrs. Henderson call me to the table she was sharing with some of the girls? Instead, the teacher only nodded, and a haggard-looking waitress led us to a small booth. When the rest of the entourage, including my son, started to follow, his brief gesture warded them away.
Thus, with coffee in my hand and a tall glass of water before him, we were left alone, separated by a battered table of stained white Formica. My heart refused to slow, but I managed a sip. His motions were measured, and those normally quick eyes stayed on me.
“Got quite the gang,” I tossed out at last.
“Not a gang.” He scoffed and nodded toward the booth holding the African-American and the other two boys. “Just friends is all. Ezra likes doing things for me.
“What kind of things?”
“Anything I ask, really. We’ve been close forever.”
“And the others?”
“The Dawsons? Joel and Fisher are magicians.”
“Magicians?”
“Yep. Need something? They’ll find it. Get it cheap.” He winked. “Sometimes work deals for better than cheap.”
My glance went to another table occupied by my boy and the redhead.
“She your girlfriend?”
“Eva? Nah. Wants to be, but...” He took a healthy swig and, Lord help me, the motion of that thick, corded throat made me tremble. “Look, Mrs. Poole, what is it—”
“My son ... What? He give me to you? Expects to whore me out? Just because I ... Well, we do things, but that doesn’t mean—”
His hand rose, and my faithless, weak lips sealed. He leaned closer. Those dark eyes became the darkest of lasers. Even their brown speckles seemed so darn sharp. God in heaven, did my soul ever shake. The whole room was quivering.
“Barry is curious.” He chuckled, making me flinch. “Hell, so am I, Mrs. Poole, after this morning.”
“Don’t curse.”
His brow furrowed, but I held his gaze. He again tossed me a slow nod. “My apologies, Mrs. Poole.”
“Leah.” I flashed a quick grin. “Or ‘beautiful’ would work as well.”
He laughed; the sound made my heart sing. “Hmm, and I’m the bad boy. So, got a thing for bad boys, Mrs. Poole, uh, Leah?”
As the good Lord is my witness, my brain refused to form an answer. Instead, His divine will shone down upon us, and plates of food arrived, breaking an awkward silence.
Swaddled in that quietness, we ate, but those eyes remained on me, and I couldn’t tear my gaze from him. My pulse kept wandering; one minute it’d race, the next, plummet. This harlot, this whore, this wicked woman had no idea what she was doing.
At what point does the great counter in heaven just reset? Too much naughtiness, causing it to fail. That’s where I teetered, and we’d done ... little.
The waitress appeared, so did fresh coffee and another glass of water. The empty plates disappeared, so we must’ve finished. As I reclined, hugging the cup with both fists, his survey roamed the dress. Was it wantonness, wicked sin, or simple playfulness that drew my chest upward for his inspection? No idea, but it happened, and his eyes sparkled. God help me, that got me smiling.
“Beautiful,” he murmured over the glass rim.
Even as the word sent flames deep, he swallowed. The languid motions of his corded throat again worked that magic, making the fires roar much deeper.
Once back in the parking lot, as we readied to board the bus, his hand landed on my hip. Eva noticed; her brows furrowed. So did Barry; he gulped. Ezra gave me a smirk. Nobody else paid attention, nor did anyone comment as both his hands gripped my hips to guide me along the aisle. Those fires inside me were hot enough to heat a small city by the time I crumpled into the window seat.
The bus roared into motion. His arm slipped around my shoulders. This trembling wanton whore snuggled against a solid torso. His hand moved further, and the dress parted, baring me once again.
Just as my gaze lifted to find his grin, those fingers slid upward. The world blinked when their rough steeliness stretched lace while slipping into the bra to cup a breast.
“N-no,” I murmured.
“I’m a bad boy ... Leah, remember?”
“Mm-hmm, b-bad.”
His hand squeezed, and the universe staggered once more. A groan tore from me, and a quick glance showed Barry staring wide-eyed. The fingers slid, pushing the cross aside, to again stretch snowy lace and encircle the other breast. With a whimper, I twisted to chew on the boy’s jacket collar. His chuckle made my chest rumble. Thick fingertips found the angry nipple, and the next sound to leave me was far louder.
“Shh, Leah.”
The warm palm gave me one more squeeze before leaving the bra to roam my belly. Lord, each swirling digit left a trail of searing heat in its wake. When his gaze lowered, I followed his eyes to the jeans.
“So, you’re wined and dined,” he murmured. “Well, fed and had coffee.”
My hand slid over a solid thigh to trace the taut zipper with a glossy red fingernail. His turn to groan, and so help me, I swallowed a laugh. With a quick flick, I sent blonde curls away to gaze at him.
“Say, please, bad boy,” I whispered before leaning closer to nip his chin.
“Oh, wow. Um, please, Mrs. Poole ... Leah.”
He looked up, and only then did I notice three sets of eyeballs on us. My son, Eva, and Ezra were all watching playfulness bloom. Both boys were motionless, but the pixie was sucking hard on the cutest pink lips.
“Maybe she should do it,” I said.
“No. You.”
“Please?”
“No, you, please, Leah.”
“Ah, got it right.” I tapped his bulge, and he jumped. “Good boy.”
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