Romans & histoires How Old Is Yo Mama

CALEB I couldn’t stop thinking about her. Maya. My father’s new wife. At 28, she was young enough to be his daughter, with a body that haunted every waking moment of my 22-year-old life. Those massive, heavy DD tits that strained against her clothes, wide hips made for breeding, and a fat, juicy ass that jiggled with every step. How the hell did my 62-year-old father land a woman like her?

"How's your son doing? You left New York so suddenly, everyone was so worried." This woman was definitely Yurissa. Yurissa sighed and downed the rest of her Bloody Mary. "He's fine. He turns 156 weeks In 2 weeks." I snorted. "Why do parents either refer to their children's age as in months, weeks or days. Just frickin call him 2 years old." Yurissa burst out laughing. "I just love messing with people. I hate it when new parents do that, too. Matthew is 2 years, almost 3."

she said. I nodded. I understand her point. "If you were a professor? How old are you?" she asked. "31" I said. "Thirty? Well, my daughter is only twenty-three, maybe later you will have other women besides my daughter!" Mam said angrily. I laughed. "That’s not gonna happen, Myra is the only woman I love, from then until now and forever" I said. "Eh! Mama! Stop stressing yourself! Why didn't you say you had maintenance? Where is the money I give you? You should have told me if that was not enough--" Myra stopped speaking when her Mom answered.

"Is that scrambled eggs and bacon I smell? Zoey asked, sniffing around the room. Her mom laughed,"How'd you guess?"she asked.Her mom was the perfect mother figure.Her mom's shoulder length hair was pulled back in a ponytail. Though she'd already birthed two kids, she still looked like a model. Zoey wondered why her mom wasn't in the modelling industry. Still in her early forties, most people thought she was in her mid thirties. Her smile was warmer than chocolate fudge cookies. "A magician never reveals her secrets." she said in a dark tone. and child burst into boisterous laughter. "Save some for me," she said, walking out of the room.

"Papa is your soul mate, When did you meet him?" Fiona asked slowly and a small smile played on her mother's "When I was 18," she hummed softly. "Mama, my mate loves me the same way papa used to do to you?" Fiona asked again, her mother chuckled at her naive question. "Yes my love, when your mate finds you, he will not be able to look away from you, you will be the key to his heart... I assure you” Her mother replied and smiled her way and she smiled back.

mom yells again from down stairs. "I'm coming ma!" I grabbed my bag pack and slinged it on my shoulder before leaving my room and running downstairs. I met her at the kitchen sipping her coffee and holding her work phone. Ma may be in her late forties but she would pass as woman in her early twenties. Some say the were wolf gene is part but this is a miracle.

If I am correct, during my stay she spoke to me only once. I noticed she didn't have any close friends as she was always on her own, and she probably should be in her late thirties. Mateo had told me that his mom is 37 years old. Could she be the one? Maybe I have met the mother of the one I love without knowing it. "I can't wait to meet his mother," I muttered while my eyes squinted.

It was as if she couldn't believe I was capable of proper self-care. "Of course, Ma..." Mama tilted her chin up, playing the judge. "Come now, confess. Dita forced you into this look, didn't she?" I gave a wide grin and twirled around. "You caught me, Ma. Do I look beautiful?" Mama crossed her arms and huffed, though she couldn't hide her smile. "Hmph... it’s no wonder you look different. This is the look I’ve always wanted for you." She leaned in, whispering into my ear. "You are twenty-five now. Do you truly have no desire for a suitor?"

“I do not know. It is not signed.” “Really? How long do you think you can keep this up?” “What?” It earned her a dry look from her mother. “Ella, I might be one year older tomorrow, but I am not senile. Everything adds up to a new man in your life. And I am happy for you. After all, you are twenty six.” “Mm-hmm.” A safe, non-committal reply. “You can tell me all about him you know,” said her mother with an indulgent smile.

Instead, I help her back toward the patio as the twins continue chasing each other through the yard. Mom sinks into one of the chairs with a small sigh. “I’m getting old.” I snort. “You’re forty-two.” “Practically ancient,” she sighs woefully. “You’re not funny.” She chuckles, squeezing my hand. For a moment, I catch a glimpse of the mother I’ve always known. The one who used to race us to the mailbox, the one who climbed trees with the twins and never seemed tired, the one who can always make my Dad laugh even in his foulest mood.