Your Momma So Short Novels & Stories

Half of her ass cheeks hang out and she looks so hot, I could just pull those shorts off and just bang the shit out of her. My mother Elizabeth was a very young looking light brunette almost blond and green eyes. Mom is 38 and a woman with very long legs and very much a modern woman that still shows off her legs wearing shorter skirts then maybe women her age would wear, but I am not sure about that. I like to see my mom is high heels because it seems her skirts or dresses get shorter and I always try to get a peek up her skirt or dress. I have gotten lucky a several times and have seen her different color panties.

Irritated, Barbara slapped him and said, "Why are you crying? No one died in this house." The five or six-year-old Jerry Miller cried and said sadly, "Mom is mean, Mom is a witch. I don't like Mom anymore!" Barbara, already in a bad mood, was even more angered by her son's public mockery, making her want to slap him again. The mother and son created a chaotic scene in the living room. Madam Martínez had a displeased expression and said calmly, "Haley, after signing the contract, come to my study with me."

She looked at me like I was an idiot. “My dad! Oh, I get it! You’re here hoping for a chance to be my dad’s mistress, huh? “My dad loves my mom like his life depends on it. Save your breath! As for the last one who tried to climb the ladder, my mom could make her beg for mercy with just a glance!” I immediately had my suspicions and played the video I had received. The girl across from me burst into laughter. “If you already know everything, why are you still trying your luck? How pathetic can you be?

We've got all weekend. Mom greets us at the door wearing tight shorts and a thin tank top, which barely contains her bouncing tits. Susan glances at me as mom embraces her, pressing her body against Susan's and kissing her on the cheek. Mom holds the embrace, pressing her tits against Susan's and running her hands up and down her back.

I am not so tall, five feet, six inches tall which was average for a girl my age, I think my body looked great but my personality wasn't that great, and that is why I find it so hard fitting into the crowd. "Mom I am not late, a matter of fact, I am an hour early which is considered uncool for kids my age," I muttered, and my dad who has been silently reading the newspaper let out a soft chuckle and my mom glared at him and he pretended to stare at down at his newspaper.

“I-It's nothing. It's just the flu.” “Nothing?” The guy scoffs and playfully squeezes the side of my waist. “She's trying to impress you, Mamma. She could barely get out of bed the other night.” “That sounds terrible.” Mamma? Does he always call his stepmom 'mamma'? It sounds a little weird. Just because she looks only ten years older than him. This woman's already in her 50s, but she looks 40 even with minimal makeup. It's not the Botox, though. Just genetics. It's pretty obvious why people gravitate towards her, even winning her the local elections twice.

"Yes. She totally did. She dissed her about being shameless, following a man onld enough to be her Dad around. In that tiny head of hers houses something bigger. You both need to be really careful with parenting this one or she'll be one of those rebellious teenagers in her time." Ford raises an eyebrow. "Like you were?" "Come on, I'm past that phase." Ford laughs. "Says the girl with her legs on the chair meant for sitting." "Ugh. Don't start. I've had enough with mum already." Ford looks around. "Talking of Mum, where is she?" "Aren't you missing something?" "What?" "Has Mum ever been alone ever since she found out Aunt Sue's Mum was her best friend in high school?" "Cute. Where are they b

During a holiday, when I told my mother that my boyfriend would be coming to my house, her expression darkened. Tears welled up in her eyes as she touched my face and said in a hoarse voice, “Oh my God... Thank God you’re still alive. “Do you remember what day this is? This time, I’m not letting you die.” She acted as if she were possessed and screamed at me hysterically, “He’s a serial killer! We’ll all die if he comes today. Last time around, I was the only one left!” I believed her. I broke up with him and called the police to have him arrested. I let out a sigh of relief as I watched him get taken away, and my mother revealed a triumphant smile. She then said calmly, “That’s that.

After I started college, Mom said she'd send me money in installments. "Lucia, you're an adult now. I want you to learn how to manage money, so I'll give you your living expenses in installments." I figured she meant monthly. Maybe weekly, worst case. Then move-in day came. Mom walked around the cafeteria, checked the prices, and sent $8 to my payment app. I stared at my phone. "Mom, did you send the wrong amount?" She smiled. "Silly girl. That's your lunch money for today. I checked already. Just get the cheapest grab-and-go meal. "From now on, ask me for money before each meal." I froze. So by installments, she didn't mean monthly. Or weekly. She meant one meal at a time. By da

We both shuddered at the mention of his mum. Mama Zack, also known as Hope Osborn, was one hell of a lady. She was in her late fifties and was still as agile as a lady in her mid twenties. A short, plump lady with fiery brown eyes and short brownish-red bob, you wouldn't want to mess with. She and her husband; Clayton Osborn or Papa Zack as I liked to call him, owned Osborn's cakes and bakes, and were really making money from it. She had the medeaves touch; whatever she baked was delish.