Mom And Daughter Stories นิยาย & เรื่องราว

I lie again. "With a man like that, you don't need time to think, you just need to be close, I know what it's like, your father and I went through this when we were younger, and thank heaven we're like this too this day, I bet you, mindless as you are, haven't even thought about the fact that you have a husband, while you were there shamelessly with that giant your husband was crying at home, I didn't put my daughter in this world for this Allison, I never thought my daughter would act like this..." Mom says and I can only see disappointment in her words.

I can only hope she watches over him when I die at the end of my very long life. We always spend the blue moon at the pack house, together. “We are stronger together,” mom always tells me. I used to hate hearing mom and Aunt Lottie’s stories. About how they grew up, met their mates, the challenges they faced. But since I got back from training camp, I can’t get enough of them. It’s an honor to be related to them.

" Too bad—Mom failed to snatch my phone away as the other students held her back. Good thing I had been eating well lately and was strong enough to resist her. Since Mom couldn't force me to obey her, she started throwing a tantrum again. This time, everyone was clearly not buying it. Not long after, the guards came to escort her out. … Things didn't stay quiet for long. One day, my roommate sent me a link. "Susan, you've got to see this." I opened the link, and it led me to an article titled "Woman Works for Years to Put Daughter Through College—Daughter Rejects Her and Plans to Leave the Country".

"Not all the time. Father and Mother used to tell me stories." My head instinctively turned towards the woman, and I saw the pain flash in her eyes from her daughter's words. As I watched, she raised her head and her eyes met mine for a second before she looked away again, hurriedly brushing something off her cheek. This reaction of hers stabbed at my heart, and I turned my attention back towards the little girl. "Why isn't Mother telling us a story now?" "She says the soldiers took Father and all the food." "Quiet, Alynna." Her mother reprimanded.

At my bonding ceremony with Liam Jones, the pack witch appeared and dropped a bombshell—my long-lost sister, Victoria, was still alive. She could bring Victoria back, but there was a catch. She turned to my parents and asked: “Are you willing to trade Margret Davis for Victoria Davis? The two will swap bodies.” My parents' faces lit up with excitement. They didn't hesitate for a second. Yes. They said the only reason they had me was because Victoria had vanished, and their mind-link with her had gone silent. I'd spent twenty years living a life that was never mine, while my sister suffered for over a decade. This was what I owed her. Then the witch turned to Liam. Victoria had gone missing b

"Oh, okay. Nothing matters to me as long as you’re fine, after all. I think we should go shopping since you’re here." "Mom, I’m supposed to leave right after breakfast." "Can’t you stay a bit longer? I miss my daughter." She seemed so sweet saying this. "I miss you too, Mom. But you know, your daughter is all grown up now, and she’s running her own business, which has already made over 10 million." "Oh, thank God! My daughter is going to save me from poverty! My own family inheritance and a billionaire husband, who is also the daddy of my greedy daughter, weren’t making enough money already!" she said sarcastically.

It was more than just catching up; it was like a warm embrace, a reminder of the bond we shared. We shared stories about our quirky family traditions, like the annual pancake-eating contest on Thanksgiving, and the time Dad tried to teach me how to ride a unicycle in the park. I chuckled at the memory. "Oh, Dad, remember the unicycle disaster?" Dad laughed heartily. "How could I forget? You were determined, even if it meant a few scraped knees." Our laughter filled the airwaves as I navigated the familiar roads. Time seemed to melt away as we swapped stories, our conversation a testament to the enduring connection between a father and his daughter.

Because somehow I realized how much I did not know my mom. I knew my mother as Luna. As a leader. As an icon. But not as a young girl. Not as a friend. But as a daughter. For a whole hour after that, Mara recounted tales. Short tales. Tales which were amusing of my Mom and Dad. Tales which wouldn't make the history books. Tales of how my mother sneaked out of class. Tales of my parents racing each other in the forest. Of my mom climbing up the tree and refusing to get down.

"Are you talking about what I think you're talking about?" Mom gave a defeated shrug, her eyes trained on our overlapping hands that rested on her tummy. "Pregnant women really get... that." I could feel a lump in my throat, but I forced my words to go around it. "Hor-ny?" Mom nodded sadly. "God, this is so pathetic. What kind of mother tells this kind of stuff to her son?" I gave her hand an empathetic squeeze, using the stability to steady its tremble. "The kind with a son who wants to listen. I love that we tell each other everything, even if it's weird."

Since I am hard again already I step up and gently push into my sister's pussy. Barbie moans again into our mom's snatch. Mom and Dad just watch as the kids make love over the top of the two of them. When I drop a third load and step back, Mom pushes off Dad. Mom returns the favor to her daughter and sucks her sons' still huge load from Barbie's steaming pussy. They all crawl onto the bed and the two couples cuddle and mother and daughter hold hands.