Yo Mama Roasts Novels & Stories

"My daughter really is something. Stella? Please. Her mom was never on my level, and neither is she. The Ashfords went too far. You shouldn't have had to deal with this." Mary squeezed her hand. "Mom, it's fine. As long as I've got Jack wrapped around my finger, I'm his only wife." She smirked. "Stella can play nanny for free." "Exactly. Keep Jack close. Don't let him stray. A guy like him? Women are always circling. Don't let them mess with his head." "Relax. I've got it handled." Mary checked the time, frowning. "Seriously, what's taking so long?"

Liberty pov Mary-Jane, or Roja, as she wants me to call her, has been playing the damsel-in-distress and grieving mate role perfectly. My mother fusses over her and my father feels obliged to keep her in the house as her father was his fathers best friend.

"Show me your lengthy enormous dick, baby." Quickly, he dropped his pants together with the underwear he was wearing, while Romana took the same position as the picture she sent him earlier. "Masturbate and scream my name, Baby..." she ordered. "Do the same, Mommy. I want to see you pleasing yourself." "Sure." He started masturbating in front of the camera while watching what Romana does. His horny sugar mommy inserted the dildo into her pink womanhood and then pressed the button to the maximum level. She was like being possessed when the vibrator turned on. She howled continuously while her narrow eyes stared at him.

Our metabolism is high. My mom is starlet and slaps my arm playfully, “Seriously, Dira, can you be any more sneaky? You too, Allen. I didn’t hear you or even smell you coming downstairs” I laughed and kissed her cheek, “What are you making Mom,” I asked her, having a slight idea what it was since she always makes me the same for my birthday every year without fail, “honey you know what it is, its roasted pork with yellow rice, come help me prep to make the salad for later,” I jump around happily clapping my hands.

"I'll be leaving in a week and I'll be gone for a year. I promise I'll call whenever I can and check up on you guys every time." "Baby," my mom said as a lone tear flowed down my cheek. "Just promise me one thing, Mom and Dad," I said firmly. "Don't waste this one year. I'm pretty sure the mafia would leave you alone. So please, build your businesses again. Become the parents I am proud of." I couldn't stop the tears as they flowed uncontrollably now. "I love you both, so much.”

Enjoying the taste of her sweet juices on my tongue and flicking her nub with my tongue, knowing how much she loves that. “Are you both staying tonight?” Stepmother asks. No way, I think. I’ve got way too many dirty thoughts running around my head and being at home here isn’t going to satisfy this primal need and urge that I have to bend Roxy over with her ass sticking in the air and pumping her like a demon from behind. I can feel my dick growing proud in my pants and try to shift to accommodate. However, all eyes are on me now that dinner is over and we have had our dessert. Mom made an apple pie with cinnamon, my favorite.

At that moment, I lost all hope, not just in Yelena, but also in Lipton Corporation. "Carter, if you were to beg me now to rescind the divorce, I might just consider helping you get promoted in the future. I'm truly heartbroken that your mom has passed away, but that still doesn't give you the right to blame everything on me! You have to be more considerate of me too, you know! "Apologize to me now, then promise to be good and listen to whatever I say in the future. I guarantee that your career will soar. That way, your mom won't have lingering regrets, right?"

“Let me know what you think of it. I didn’t follow my mom’s recipe.” Amerie took a bite. Rosemary, thyme, and sage danced on her tastebuds as the tender meat nearly melted. “It’s delicious! I don’t think I’ve ever had a roast this good. My mom would barely season them growing up. Thank you for making dinner.” Everett smiled at her. “Of course. I’m glad you like it.”

Afraid that Mom would sense something was off, I skipped dinner and retreated to my room. I opened a streaming app and clicked into a room raising money for a baby with a cleft lips and palate. On the screen, a couple was performing in a dilapidated room. After seven hours of streaming, they'd only collected 1,200 dollars. The comments section was a cesspool of trolls. "Have the mom put on some stockings and do a suggestive dance. I'll send a gift then!"

Instead, the strong aroma of curry and other kinds of spice filled the air, invading my senses. The crease between my brows deepened; only Mother uses curry this heavily. It's her signature style of cooking. Without thinking, I kicked the door open in haste, and to my surprise, Mother was right there in the kitchen cooking. “What the fuck, Mom!" An exasperated sigh left my lips. If I was ever in doubt where Rosita got her mischievous nature, the answer was now painfully obvious. Mom folded her hands across her chest and gave me a smug, self-satisfied grin.