Novel & Cerita Mom Son Intimacy

Mom glanced at my phone screen, her tone casual as if she had only just remembered. "Oh, that money? I gave it to Sabrina." Sabrina finally looked up from her plate, her expression contemptuous. "That amount doesn't even cover basic dating expenses for me. I still have to ask Mom and Dad for money all the time, and you're acting like it's something worth bragging about." My fingers tightened around my phone. "That's your attitude after spending my money?"

Then she glanced at me, silently asking permission I had no right to give. I looked away. And that was all the permission she needed. She got up and followed her mother. I was left alone, thinking it was over. But Monica lingered near the door before stepping out. “You know,” she said quietly, “you’re impressive.” I looked up. “Even knowing you’re temporary,” she continued, “you still try to love my children.” She smiled. A practiced, polite smile—but I could feel the fakeness behind it. “I’m just doing my job,” I said softly.

I love the feeling of being used, of my mouth being nothing but a hole for his pleasure. Suddenly, a sharp ringtone cuts through the air. Tristan groans in frustration, his hips stilling for a split second. He doesn’t pull out, though. He reaches into his pocket with his free hand, checking the screen. I glance up; the name "Valeria" flashes on the display. My mother. He looks down at me, a wicked smirk playing on his lips. He shushes me, placing a finger over his mouth, then taps the button to answer.

I sprang to my feet in the most mindful and cautious way I could, daring him with my eyes still as calm and unaffected. “You bitch, you never let me fuck you or even touch you. I never got to masturbate to you because you were always so perfect and chaste and I needed a release,” he was in the middle of shouting, sounding frustrated in between growls and sighs when I hushed him by stepping close and watching as he backed two steps away, intimidated by my calm. “Carlos, there are two things you know I will never take from anyone, talkless of a man I planned on spending my life with. One,” I raised my perfectly manicured acrylic left index finger up as I took another step.

I moan, opening my legs wider so that I can feel more of her inside of me. Her fingers push a little deeper inside of me, curling upward to hit that spot just inside. “Yeah, Mommy? How good does it feel?” she whispers, pulling my chin up so that she can kiss me. I want to kiss her back, I really do. But the way that she’s touching me, the curl of her fingers inside of me with this little flick that she does with her fingers when she reaches the end of her stroke has me panting against her skin. Her other hand finds my ass and pushes me further onto her fingers and I let out a strangled moan.

Mom wrinkled her nose. "Sometimes I think we both kind of . . . get off on it when we argue, though. Is that horrible?" I was almost afraid to hear her answer. "Is that the only time you-um, get off? I mean, do you enjoy intimacy under other circumstances?" "Oh, hell, yeah." I pointed to the far end of the living room, where the massage table was folded against the wall. "Exhibit A. We weren't fighting today." "Then no, I don't think it's horrible or wrong. You're just two healthy, passionate people, and sex is always an excellent outlet for that kind of energy." Mom's mouth curved into an odd smile, and the look in her eyes made me both curious and worried.

Deliberately. I moaned into him, heat pooling low in my stomach, liquid and dizzying. I’ve never felt anything like it, like the simple touch of his tongue against my fang could unravel me completely. This is the second time we had kissed and it was even better than the first. It was intimate in a way that borders on sacred. His desire poured out between us like molten fire, longing, frustrated, restrained only by the thinnest thread.