Impregnating My Mom Novels & Stories

Fuck my life! The soft knock at my door makes me flinch, even though I know it's just Mom. She always knocks the same way – three gentle taps, like she's afraid anything louder might shatter me completely. "Come in," I call out, hating how weak my voice sounds. Mom enters carrying a steaming mug that fills the room with the scent of chamomile and honey. Her smile is gentle, careful, like everything else about her these days. "Thought you might like some tea, sweetheart."

I blame the stupid video games he plays. "Is this deep enough?" Dad asked mom as he removed the shovel from the hole. Mom nods and grinned at her husband. "It's perfect baby." Did mom seriously bring us out here to watch her and dad plant a flower? As if knowing I'd ask another question mom turns to us, well me specifically, and utters. " I know the wound is still fresh and I know that you'll always remember the pain you went through Mia. But we want to make this a beautiful memory for you."

I just want get some rest and chatting with mom for any minutes. I heard some of our troops searching Boy and his mom every mile on the Scarlett Moon. They get any weapon from catch these jerks. When I had just changed my cloth, I found out that mom in the backyard now. She’s squatting before a plant I don’t know. She’s trying to watering the plant, but she’s looks so devastated. I put my kimono on the cap’s tock. Then I run briskly climbed down the stairs. I changed my mind to make a glass sunflower tea for her. I thought it will make her negative thinks reduce day by day. I know she just devastated because of losing Grandpa.

I was in the garden, kneeling against the floor as I watered the hibiscus, a smile making its way to my lips as I hummed. My mother’s favorite flowers was hibiscus, I remember my father getting her lots of it whenever he could and now, watering the same flowers only brought me nothing but joy. I tucked a strand of hair that fell to my forehead behind my ear, wiping my face with my other hand, leaning back lightly to admire the work I just did.

Mom looked at me with nothing but disappointment in her eyes. I remembered how she used to stand up for him fiercely in public whenever relatives made cruel remarks about him. At charity galas, the mere hint of an insult, labeling him a country bumpkin, was enough to make her spend exorbitant amounts of money just to stand by him and put an end to the ridicule. No matter how busy she was, she always came home on time because she never wanted him to wait an extra minute. I stared at her, unable to look away. When did Mom become this stranger?

"I am not your mother. And what are you doing carrying that filthy rabbit around? Haven't you embarrassed me enough?" Mama stalked over and tore the bunny right out of my hands, then ripped one of his legs clean off. The cotton stuffing burst out of the rip and spilled. Something inside me ripped open at the same moment. Fine cold needles drove into my bones. This was worse than every other time. "Don't, please. Mommy gave him to me, please don't." Then I tasted iron. Black blood came up out of my throat. I tried to keep my eyes open as I grabbed handfuls of cotton off the floor and tried to stuff them back into the bunny.

I rolled my eyes at my son and Alex was trying his best to stifle his laughter. "Sorry, we had a bit of something to take care of". I said explaining myself. Sometimes I wonder how Damien can behave like my dad.Am his mother for goodness sake. "Who's that?".

I sit on the low wall around the beds and pull out my container of cookies, biting into one and chewing on it as I stare at the corner of the garden that used to be hers. My mom’s. My throat tightens, and I imagine her crouched in the dirt, hair a mess and clothes filthy, gloved hands covered with dirt that smears over her forehead as she wipes sweat from her brow. “Hey Mom,” I say. “I’m sorry I haven’t been out here in a while. I’ve been really busy.” I set the container next to me, lid off for easy access of the remaining chocolate chip cookies — her favorite. I rub my palms on my jeans and lick my lips, preparing myself to verbalize my truth.

It was an old, invisible choreography. “Sleep well?” Mom asked, spoon poised like a conductor. Her eyes were warm but shadowed. Since the woman had first found me in that alley, she’d become the kind of mother who would teach a daughter-in-law how to strap on both armor and lipstick. Part of me adored the irony. “I did,” I said. “Thank you… for last night. For everything.” My voice caught. There was gratitude that I could not wrap in words.

Running my fingers up and down her slit, releases juices that coat her lips and lubricate my fingers, so they easily slip inside her hot pussy. "Mmmmmm. Nick." Mom says, pulling her face back from our kiss. "I missed you this weekend." She says, looking me in the eyes. "I got really horny and started to watch a video, but I didn't want the vibrator or the dildo, I wanted you. I hope you don't think your mom is weird or perverted or whatever." She's stroking my hard cock while her fingers are tantalizing my balls.