Dirty Mom Stories Novels & Stories

"We had an in-depth conversation about a week ago." "Really?" I replied. Brooke Collins is an insecure, self-centered woman, obsessed with her own huge tits, who is as deep as a parking lot puddle... but it appeared she was part of the day's game. "What did you talk about?" "She told me a story," Mom said. "We'd been drinking, and I think Brooke's guard was down. It was an adult story." "Was it a good story?" "Depends," Mom replied, her tongue running over her lips. "It's a story about sex."

he says with a smirk plastered across his face. “Please no …no. Stop.” *SMACK* “Ahh…I'm a whore. One” *SMACK* “Ahhhh.. I'm a whore. Two” …..Five,....SIX…..Ten…... .Twelve….. Nineteen. “So this is the final deal” Clover fondled her head gently stroking her hair and caressing her ass cheeks with the stick. Her ass was all red and bruised. *SMACK* “Ahh.. I'm a whore. Twenty.”

I answer without hesitation, “it was a game.” My mom doesn’t believe me, but she stays quiet. Then she looks at him. “And you?” Mateo takes a second before answering. “Same.” We look at each other. And in that moment everything comes back, the fight, the anger, the impact, last night, all of it packed into a single look neither of us is willing to break. “What a coincidence,” Mark laughs. If only he knew. “I’m going to the bathroom,” I say suddenly, standing up before I lose what little patience I have left.

“You’re twenty-one now, but… damn.” I wanted the floor to swallow me. My stepdad had just seen me jerking off to gay p**n. Specifically, to a scene with a huge age gap and domination. My heart pounded so hard I felt dizzy. Yet underneath the burning embarrassment, my cock hadn’t softened at all. If anything, being caught by Max made it throb even harder. He stepped inside and closed the door behind him quietly. The click sounded final. “Your mom’s not home. Good thing, huh?” He exhaled slowly, eyes flicking to the laptop. “That what you’re into?”

Two men who raised me, holding me between them, their cum still leaking out of me. “Sleep,” David murmurs. “We’ll clean up before your mother wakes.” I’m unconscious within seconds. We clean up before dawn. Change the sheets. Hide the toys. Shower. Pretend nothing happened. Mom comes down at eight. “I slept so well,” she announces. “Did you three have a nice night?” “We did,” Richard says smoothly. “Bonded,” David agrees. They share a look. Conspiracy. Mom goes to make breakfast. “My conference is in David’s city next month,” Richard murmurs.

Hi, I will not say much. This is an erotic story that contains a mom/aunt/son. As you know, I write about Aunt/Mom’s stories. Please support me by reading my other stories, too. Also, you can support me on my P*****n: p*****n.com/laxu00 Story starts

His mother tells stories of Damian’s childhood—stories he desperately tries to stop her from telling. “He hated bathing,” she says, laughing as she taps his knee. “Mom—” “He would run around the house naked. You could chase him for ten minutes and still not catch him.” I laugh so hard my stomach hurts. Damian groans, covering his face with his palm. “Why are you doing this to me?” he mutters. “I’m preparing your wife,” she responds mischievously. “So she knows what she married.” I rest my hand on his knee gently, and he glances at me with that tiny smile that always pulls warmth up my spine.

"And no embarrassing baby stories!" Mom looked scandalized. "But the bathtub incident is my best material!" "MOM!" We all burst out laughing, and for a moment, I almost forgot about the contract, the lies, and the complicated web I'd woven myself into.

"Because I need to ask you something, Harper, and I need you to be honest with me." ​My blood ran completely cold. ​My mom reached into the pocket of her cardigan and placed a scrap of black, lace fabric directly into the center of the dinner table. ​"I was doing a load of laundry before dinner," my mom said, her voice dropping into a deadly serious tone. "Care to explain why I found your underwear at the bottom of your hamper, ripped completely in half?"

In the video, my small hands fumbled with the phone while I looked up at her, confused and scared. "Be a good boy, Sawyer. Your daddy's a softie. As long as you cry, he'll give you whatever you want. "Just tell him that my business went under and there's no money for your school fees. Tell him to send money right away." A floodgate opened in my memory. All the moments I'd forced myself to forget, the ones she'd papered over with "we're family," came rushing back with brutal clarity. The footage cut to another scene again. This time, it showed Mom and Uncle Keith in an office, with an audio recording capturing them scheming about how to cook the books and quietly siphon the money Dad had inve