u/Author_BrookeKinks

To celebrate my one year anniversary as a taboo erotica author, I’m sharing the first five books in my Mind Controlling My Mom and Sister series over the next couple of weeks. Follow my reddit profile and never miss an update ;)

When Eric wakes up with strange, new powers, he doesn't waste any time. He makes his mom take off her sexy yoga clothes and drop to her knees.

Later, as Eric fucks his mom against the window for everyone to see, his sister shows up. Shocked and disgusted, she wants her brother to STOP.

But something tells Eric he may just be able to change his sister's mind…

All characters 18+. This story features mind control, incest, threesome, exhibitionism, and breeding kink.

~

Eric sits bolt upright in bed, staring at his hands like he’s just seeing them for the first time. All of a sudden, he slaps himself, saying, “Only one way to find out.”

He closes his eyes, his brows furrowing as he concentrates, his hands balling into fists.

“Mom, come here,” he says, his voice uncertain.

Barely one minute later, the door opens.

Catherine, a fit, attractive woman in her forties, steps into her son’s room. She’s dressed in her usual morning outfit, a tank top and yoga pants.

Every morning, Catherine tortures her son as he heads out the door to work, doing her downward dogs on her yoga mat in the living room.

Today, Eric doesn’t get to just stare and fantasize about what his mom looks like underneath her yoga attire. If what he saw in his dream is true—and so far it seems to be—he’d be able to do whatever he wants with his mom.

Eric swallows.

Catherine is staring at the black-out curtains that still cover the windows in Eric’s room. This is a familiar sight to Eric: his mom getting ready to yank the curtains open to wake him up.

Despite Catherine’s blank stare, this scene seems too normal for him to fully believe he’s actually controlling his mom with his mind, just like the old man in his dream said he could.

Eric takes a closer look—his mom’s gaze is vacant, like she’s daydreaming, like she’s not really there. She hasn’t even moved since she entered the room. She stands by the open doorway like a statue.

“Do the chicken dance,” Eric says in a small, barely audible voice.

Eric watches, his jaw slack, as his mom raises her arms in the air and starts to do as he commanded, the sunlight from the window in the kitchen highlighting her silhouette as she contorts her body into funny shapes.

“Take off your clothes.” Eric speaks quickly, as if he’s afraid he might change his mind if he thinks about it too much.

At her son’s command, Catherine pulls her tank top off, then her yoga pants, revealing sexy, matching bra and panties in black lace.

“Stop. What’s with the matching underwear? Who have you been showing off your body to?” Eric asks, his tone a little heated.

“Nobody,” his mom answers in a dry monotone as she straightens her spine, letting Eric take in the view of her mature body.

Interesting, Eric thinks. His eyes roam over his mom’s round tits, cradled in her lacy bra, and the outline of her pussy that he can almost make out through the sheer material. So not only can I make her do whatever I want; I can also make her tell me her secrets.

For a moment, he fantasizes about using his mom’s secrets to blackmail her, but what’s the point in doing that if he can just make her do anything he wants?

Pushing his blanket to the side, Eric reveals a raging hard-on in his boxers.

“Come here,” he says nervously, still slightly worried the magic might stop working suddenly. As Catherine gets closer to his bed, he pats on the space between his legs.

Her son’s single bed creaks as Catherine climbs in.

“Take off your bra.” Eric yanks his own boxers down and pulls his cock out, then leans back to watch his mom’s tits jiggle as she reaches back to unfasten the clasp of her bra.

He starts to stroke himself.

“Put my dick between your tits,” he says.

Without a word, Catherine leans down, her long, brown hair caressing her son’s thighs, making him shudder even before she touches his cock. Then, with the tits that she breastfed him with, she squeezes her son’s engorged cock.

Even though she’s not fully conscious, the heat and the throbbing of her son’s cock against her skin seem to turn her on. She’s biting down on her lower lip, and her breathing feels heavier on Eric’s belly as she slides up and down to stroke her son’s cock.

“Put it in your mouth,” Eric says, the words tumbling out quickly as he reaches forward to grab and squeeze his mom’s tits.

Catherine obeys, leaning further back to take her son’s cock into her mouth. She licks the bead of pre-cum at the tip of his cock, then follows the trail down his shaft before she takes his length halfway into her mouth.

She moans, audibly excited, the vibrations making Eric tighten his grip on her tits.

As his mom wraps an experienced hand around the base of his cock, Eric wonders if this is what she used to do for his dad before he abandoned them.

Did she suck his cock just like this when he was conceived? Did she like it? It definitely seems like she’s enjoying giving her son a blowjob now.

“How long has it been since you sucked a cock?” Eric asks.

Catherine says something, but her voice is muffled by her son’s cock in her mouth.

“Never mind.” Eric reaches forward and puts his hands behind his mom’s head. He removes her fingers from his dick, then he pushes himself deeper into her throat.

Catherine coughs from the invasion, but it only makes her throat quiver in a delicious way around Eric’s cock.

Eric pulls his mom’s head down slowly, impaling her on his hard cock. Whenever she gags, he pulls back a little before pushing deeper again.

Thick saliva coats Eric’s cock and drips down Catherine’s chin, darkening the bedsheets.

When the tip of Eric’s cock slides past the back of his mom’s throat, the tight fit almost makes him come on the spot.

But Eric isn’t going to come before he tries out a few other things he’s only ever seen online so far.

He gets up from his bed, pulling his mom down to a kneeling position on the floor.

In his twenty-four years of existence, Eric has never felt as powerful as he does now, standing tall in front of his mom while she kneels in front of him, her mouth attached to his cock.

He begins slowly, pumping himself in and out of his mom’s mouth while his hand on the back of her head keeps her in position. The warmth and wetness in his mom’s mouth is like nothing he has experienced.

It feels so heavenly in his mom’s mouth that Eric can’t help but fuck her throat faster and harder, his hands gripping her scalp as he thrusts into her throat, his balls slapping wetly against her chin.

Eric has only been with two girls, and neither one of them liked giving blowjobs, so he never even brought up throat-fucking with them. He’s only seen it in porn. Now that he’s experiencing it in real life, it feels even better than he imagined.

Catherine’s gagging doesn’t even bother Eric anymore. It excites him.

His mom looks like a porn star with her face covered in thick, bubbly saliva and her mouth stuffed with cock. He wishes everyone can see what she looks like now, what a slut he has turned her into.

With that thought, Eric pulls his cock out of his mom’s mouth. His hand still tangled in her hair, he walks toward the window and yanks the curtains wide open, letting sunlight pour into his ground-floor bedroom.

The window looks out onto the front yard, so anyone who walks past can see them.

The neighbors’ yards are empty now, but Eric knows that Mrs. Williams across the street likes to watch her neighbors and spill their secrets to her friends. Eric casts a glance at the clock and notes that it’s almost time for Mr. Yap from next door to mow the lawn.

Eric pulls his mom’s body up and presses her bare tits against the window glass. He pulls her panties down and, to his surprise, sees a string of wetness form between her pussy and the crotch of her panties.

Excited, he touches her cunt. Immediately, his fingers are coated with her juices. When Eric inserts two fingers inside Catherine’s pussy, she arches her back and pushes back, swallowing her son’s fingers into her cunt.

“How long has it been since the last time a man touched your pussy?” Eric’s voice comes out hoarse. His gaze remains on his mom’s ass, which is sliding up and down his slick fingers.

“Six years,” Catherine whispers between moans.

Eric feels himself harden. He can’t hold it back anymore. He thinks about how tight his mom’s pussy must be after such a long dry spell, and he’s determined to be the first one to claim her pussy again.

He pulls his fingers out of his mom’s pussy, letting her juices drip down to the carpet.

Catherine lets out a frustrated groan. Her pussy feels empty, all of a sudden. She was really enjoying the finger-fucking.

Luckily for her, Eric was just as horny. In one, smooth motion, he slides his cock into her mature pussy.

Catherine’s juices cover her son’s cock as she moans like a common whore, not even caring that the blinds in the Williams’ house have just been opened and at least one person is standing at their window.

Catherine is a sensible woman who, although she keeps herself fit with yoga and running, doesn’t put much effort into looking good for men.

Ever since Eric’s dad left, she has focused on working and taking care of her family. And now, even though her son and daughter are all grown up, it doesn’t look like she’s interested in having a man in her life.

The thought of her prim-and-proper mom, contrasted with the sight of her now, fucked against a window like a cheap whore for everyone to see, is almost too much for Eric. He grips his mom’s hips and impales her on his cock, over and over again.

If Mrs. Williams wants to look, she can look. She can even take pictures and send it to the neighborhood chat group. Eric doesn’t give a fuck. He can fix any problem with the power of his mind.

Eric hears the hum of a car engine before it comes into view—it’s enough to make him start fucking his mom even harder.

He thinks about someone driving past and seeing them, his mom naked and moaning in pleasure while being fucked from behind by someone in the shadows.

As if trying to impress the car driver, Eric presses a finger over his mom’s clit, which makes her start to shake and shudder against her son’s body.

Catherine’s face and her nipples are pressed flat against the glass, condensation forming where her mouth is when she starts to moan with abandon. At this volume, Eric is sure that not only is Mrs. Williams watching, but whoever is driving that car down their quiet street will turn to look.

“That’s great, Mom. Keep coming on my cock. Let’s give them a show to remember, huh?”

When the car rolls into view, Eric’s heart misses a beat. He pauses for a split second, but his mom’s pussy is clenching around his cock and it feels too fucking good for him to stop.

Inside the car, through the windshield, Eric can make out the silhouette of his sister, Michelle. As the car gets closer, he sees her face—eyes wide, jaws slack, face contorted in shock.

At twenty-two, Michelle has found a serious boyfriend and she has recently moved out of the family home, so Eric didn’t expect to see her today.

Even though Eric let panic grip him for a moment, he reminds himself that he can control minds now.

He hasn’t tried his newfound powers on two minds at once, but the sooner he starts, the sooner he can master it.

Michelle’s eyes are transfixed on her mom for what feels like forever, but soon she shifts her gaze and finds Eric.

The mixture of emotions in Michelle’s eyes—shock, disgust, disbelief—exhilarates Eric. He wanted someone to see them fucking, but he didn’t expect that person to:

1. be his sister and,
2. make eye contact with him.

In one beautiful moment, all of Eric’s most forbidden fantasies come to life, with his cock buried balls deep in his mom’s pussy and his eyes staring straight into his sister’s eyes.

Eric rams harder and faster into his mom’s pussy, his grunts harmonizing with her moans as their movements become more frantic. Sweaty bodies slam against each other, over and over again, not caring if what they’re doing is wrong.

Face frozen with disbelief, Michelle turns the car engine off and exits the car in a hurry, her gaze stuck on her mom and brother, whose bodies are locked in a forbidden embrace. She dashes across the grass until she’s just outside Eric’s bedroom window, staring at her own family like she’s never seen them before.

Tentatively, Eric sends out some feelers from his brain to Michelle’s. He doesn’t know if this will work, but he has to try.

He almost shouts with joy when he senses the shape of his sister’s thoughts. They’re just shadows now, but he can read his sister’s strongest thoughts.

What the fuck? Is that really Mom? And Eric? What the fuck are they… Are they being made to do this? But they look like… Are they… Are they enjoying this?

Eric was already on the edge of coming before. His sister’s audible thoughts add fire to the flame. Hearing those thoughts while locking eyes with his sister makes him lose all control.

Eric slams a hand on the window, startling his sister, making her take a step back as an explosive orgasm rushes through his body. He shoots ropes of cum into his mom’s pussy, filling her womb with seed.

Michelle has both her palms on the window now, banging on the glass while shouting in a voice that grows more desperate by the second. If the neighbors weren’t looking before, they sure are right now.

Eric doesn’t even hear it, though. He’s too busy thinking about how he has just blasted his cum into the womb that formed him, through the pussy that birthed him.

His mind begins to wander. What if his mom is ovulating, and his sperm manages to reach an egg, and his mom becomes pregnant with his offspring?

The idea lingers in his mind, caressing the darkest crevices of his hidden thoughts.

Wouldn’t it be great, he thinks, if mom gets pregnant?

Fantasies spring to life as he looks at his mom. Catherine is still naked and standing bolt upright at the window, displaying her naked body to the whole neighborhood, her hair a tangled mess and her face smeared with sex juices.

Anyone can tell that’s a woman who has just been fucked well.

But if she gets pregnant? Then she’d walk around with that same message twenty-four/seven.

A loud slam jolts Eric awake from his dark thoughts.

Michelle has just got in through the front door. Her footsteps stomp across the living room, the kitchen, and suddenly she’s at the door.

She stands there, staring at her mom and her brother, who are still connected at their privates.

“What—“ she stops, overcome with shock. Her gaze, which initially landed on where her mom and brother are joined, shifts away to the dark stain on the bed and the clothes strewn across Eric’s bedroom.

She takes a shaky breath and swallows. Another breath.

Eric watches as his cock softens and slips out of his mom’s pussy.

He has already made contact with Michelle’s thoughts, and he’s growing confident that he can control his sister’s mind, too. He just wants to see her mind breaking in real time before he does anything.

Looking determined after her little breathing exercise, Michelle darts across the room and pulls all the curtains closed.

In the dark bedroom that smells freshly of sex, Michelle finally manages to say, “What the fuck is happening?”

She’s putting on a brave face, but with his new powers, Eric can feel how confused Michelle is.

He can also sense that she’s a little turned on, even though there’s a barrier that prevents her from admitting it to herself.

She tries to not look, but she can’t stop her eyes from focusing on her family’s naked bodies. As her gaze lands on Eric’s flaccid cock, he uses his powers on her and is surprised to learn that she was turned on. It also seems like she had a crush on him at some point.

The new knowledge courses from his brain, through his veins, and straight to his dick.

My little sister is looking good today, he thinks.

Michelle has been working at an ice cream stand at the beach all summer while her college classes are on break. It’s a warm day and Michelle is dressed for it. Her short shorts barely cover her ass, and her bikini top shows off her perky tits.

Eric and Michelle haven’t been hanging out much since she started college a couple of years ago. Eric has been busy with work, too.

This is the perfect time for the three of us to spend some quality time together, he thinks, smiling to himself.

Carefully, without losing his hold on his mom’s mind, Eric reaches out to remove the barrier in his sister’s mind. It’s the only thing that’s stopping her from admitting that she’s attracted to him and wants him to do to her what he’s obviously done to their mom.

“Let’s go clean up, girls.” Eric is so confident in his powers now that he starts walking out the door without looking back. He can hear his mom and sister trailing behind him in the hallway.

While he waits for them in the bathroom, he thinks about all the things he’s seen in porn and has always wanted to try. By the time the girls arrive, he’s all smiles.

“Take off your clothes, Michelle.” Turning to his mom, who is already naked, he says, “Get in the shower, Mom. Clean yourself up.”

Without a word, Catherine shuffles into the shower and turns the tap on. Eric follows.

Standing behind her, he gives her tits another squeeze as he rubs his cock on her toned ass.

Having seen it in various alluring yoga positions every morning, Eric has always wanted to touch this ass. And now he can do just that whenever he wants.

He turns to Michelle, his sister who is now standing naked by the sink. Her tits sit a little higher on her chest compared to her mom’s, but her ass isn’t as toned.

When Eric gets both his mom and his sister in the shower with him, he notices how similar they look, with their wet, brown hair and vacant, green eyes.

Eric’s cock grows hard as he puts one hand on his mom’s tits, and another on his sister’s. He grabs and squeezes to his satisfaction as hot water washes over all three of them.

Despite the water pouring down her body, Michelle’s pussy feels slick. Eric easily slides two fingers inside his sister’s cunt, making her gasp and widen her eyes.

“Tell me about this crush you had on me,” Eric commands.

Gently, he pushes his mom down to kneel on the shower floor. He inserts his cock into his mom’s mouth, which is starting to feel familiar to him—like home.

“I had a massive crush on you when you came home after you finished college,” Michelle says between heavy breaths.

With his fingers still inside his sister’s pussy, Eric makes lazy circles over her clitoris. He says, “You hugged me a little longer than usual that day. I thought you were just happy about the birthday present I got you.”

Eric had missed Michelle’s eighteenth birthday because he was going to college in a different state. So when he got a chance to come home, he bought his sister a necklace as a belated birthday present, and an apology.

“You looked so mature,” Michelle says.

“Tell me how much you want to fuck me,” Eric says, sliding his cock in and out of his mom’s mouth.

“So much.” Michelle shudders, her pussy tightening around her brother’s fingers.

Although Eric can make his family do things and answer his questions, it doesn’t seem like they’re going to start telling him long-winded stories. But that’s not what he wants now anyway, not when his cock is buried in his mom’s mouth and his sister is coating his fingers with her wetness.

He turns Michelle around so she’s facing the tiled wall, then he pulls his cock out of his mom’s mouth and slides it into his sister’s pussy, fucking her in the same shower they used to fight over just a few years ago.

He positions his mom so that she’s underneath him, licking his balls and the base of his shaft as he slides out of his sister’s pussy. The sensations are like nothing he’s experienced before—his mom’s soft tongue and his sister’s tight cunt at the same time, with hot water from the shower caressing his cock in between.

Eric has already come once. Otherwise, he would’ve shot his load as soon as his mom’s tongue touches his balls. She’s sucking them one by one now, running her tongue all over them in her mouth.

Realizing that he hasn’t sampled his sister’s mouth, Eric pulls out of her and makes her kneel in front of him.

“Suck my cock.”

Michelle licks the tip of her brother’s dick, then slides down his shaft to take in the whole length of him.

“Fuck,” Eric curses as his sister’s throat gives his cock a hug tighter than any hug she’s ever given. “You’re so good at this, little sister.”

Eric considers fucking his sister’s pussy again so he can impregnate her, too, but her throat feels too good. He has never felt two mouths down there before, and he may be addicted already.

Like a crazed junkie who has forgotten everything but his drugs, Eric greedily takes everything he can out of this moment.

He puts one hand on his mom’s head and another on his sister’s, then he slides himself forward and backward, fucking his sister’s throat while rubbing his balls all over his mom’s face.

Imitating another thing he has only seen in porn, Eric places one hand over his sister’s throat. He’s soon overcome by the extra tightness around his cock, and the fact that he can feel his cock bulging his sister’s neck.

Overwhelmed by all the delicious sensations, Eric picks up his pace, feeling cum boiling in his balls. He tightens his grip on his mom and sister’s hair, pulling it so hard it probably hurts.

When he comes, his hands grab onto the backs of the girls’ heads, keeping them in place as hot cum shoots out of his hard cock and straight into his sister’s throat.

Eric’s knees feel weak, and he leans against the wet, tiled wall as his mom and sister lick him clean.

Later, as the three of them finish their shower together, Eric smiles, thinking about how early in the day it is, and how much time he still has to do whatever he wants with his mom and his sister.

~

Hi, Brooke here. Thank you for reading this story 😊

If you want more mind control incest erotica NOW, all my stories are available on Smashwords. Find the link to my full catalog, as well as more FREE taboo erotica, on my reddit profile.

All characters 18+. MC is in his 20s, and his mom is in her 40s. More age-related details in Chapter 1.

Haven’t read Chapter 1? Find the link in the comments!

+++

After looking all over the cruise ship, I finally saw Mom. She was perched on the railing, a drink in hand, dressed in one of her thin sundresses that allowed sun rays to penetrate and display her alluring silhouette.

“It’s time for dinner,” I said.

With my heart pounding, I reached for Mom’s dainty hand and she allowed it, not gripping back but not letting go either as we walked hand in hand along the deck in silence.

“Nice evening for a romantic walk by the sea.” The waitress at the front of the restaurant greeted us with a big smile.

“Yes,” I said, awkwardly returning her smile.

As she showed us our table, I noticed Mom looking at me with a strange look on her face, and I just squeezed her hand.

Candlelight flickered on our table as we took our seats across from each other. The sea sprawled beyond the windows, turning dark and mysterious, whispering secrets only it could keep.

“Is this a special occasion? An anniversary, maybe?” A waiter asked as he brought us the drinks menu.

This was one of the specialty restaurants on the ship, which meant that only a handful of tables were taken. It was a fair assumption that a couple who chose to dine here were celebrating something.

I told the waiter that it was a special occasion without giving him any specifics and ordered a bottle of champagne. Catching Mom’s questioning gaze, I gave her a smile.

The waiter saw the looks that we were giving each other and before he left to get our order, he said, “Aww… You two look so good together.”

In the quiet restaurant, it took no time at all for the waiter to come back, uncork our champagne, and pour it into our glasses.

“To us,” I said to Mom, raising my glass.

She hesitated before clinking hers against mine, eyes searching my face for something unspoken as we sipped our drinks.

We were silent as the first courses arrived, our thoughts louder than any words we might have dared share. Her foot brushed mine under the table—not accidentally—and she didn’t pull it back.

Each moment stretched between us like taut silk as we ate slowly enough to make it last, neither of us eager to break whatever spell had taken hold.

“Everyone thinks we’re together,” she said finally, glancing around at the envious looks cast our way.

I leaned back in my chair and smiled at her discomfort—or was it something else?

“Does it bother you?” I asked.

A shadow of a smile played on her lips before she looked down into her lap where her napkin lay crumpled.

“Not really,” she admitted.

Something shifted then—an understanding without need for words; an agreement signed by silence.

She looked up again, meeting my gaze with newfound boldness that sent heat rushing through me like wildfire. Maybe it was the maritime air or being around strangers—whatever it was felt dangerously right.

We left long after dessert plates were cleared away; more staff nodded approvingly as we passed them by still holding hands—but now I felt hers grip back warmly around mine.

On the deck again with stars watching from above, she leaned into me while we strolled along polished rails slick with the night’s condensation.

A deliberate touch here, a breath soft against my neck there—and suddenly everything seemed possible out here where nobody knew us except ourselves.

Back in our cabin, amidst tangled sheets perfumed faintly by salt spray, we tore into each other’s clothes, yanking them off and tossing them to the floor.

"Wait. We need to talk. Should we really be doing this?" Mom weakly protested as she lay naked under me, her words coming out with the gasps that punctuated her labored breaths.

"Tell me why we shouldn't, and I'll consider it,” I whispered into her ear as I kissed her neck and played with her tits.

“We just… Maybe… Shouldn’t…” Her voice was thin, unconvincing. She trembled under my touch, gasping softly.

“Why not? We’re just two consenting adults, doing what many consenting adults do together.” I lowered my mouth over her sensitive nipple, licking it softly with my tongue.

“I don’t…” The rest of Mom’s sentence fell away as she let out a familiar moan that made my cock ache with yearning.

“If you want me to stop, all you have to do is tell me. What we’re doing is only wrong if you don’t consent to this—” I bit her nipple and held it between my teeth “—or this—” I pressed the hardened nub nestled in her folds “—or this.”

Mom said nothing, her teeth biting down on her lower lip, as I pressed two fingers at her opening and pushed deep into her pussy. She moaned as I touched, and I grabbed, and I groped her body like it was the only thing that mattered in the world.

Mom was wet, her pussy soaked in her own juices as she writhed on the tangled sheets, moaning just for me.

I took my fingers out of her pussy and got on top of her, aligning the tip of my cock with her slick opening. “Tell me if you don’t want this.”

"Please,” she muttered as she lifted her hips up off the bed, pressing herself against me. “Please, please please…”

“Fuck, Mom,” I groaned.

With that eloquent expression of desire, I slid in smoothly into Mom’s pussy, burying myself balls deep inside her.

Her breath caught, and her protests dissolved into moans as I pulled her roughly against me.

We had sex that was slow and gentle at first, then wild and urgent as the small room filled with nothing but our ragged breaths and the sounds of us fucking on the bed, on the floor, in every corner that left no space unclaimed.

I pulled Mom’s hair, and I pinched her nipples until they hurt, savoring the way her eyes rolled back with pleasure, the way she arched for more.

She loved it hard and desperate as much as she loved it tender.

She came like a tidal wave, like she was drowning, like we both were drowning together, before finally collapsing against my chest.

We lay tangled in damp sheets, our skin slick with sweat and satisfaction. Out here where nobody knew us, we were free to be whatever we wanted to be. Just two consenting adults.

When our breathing finally slowed, when we could hear the gentle patter of footsteps in the hallway and the creak of the ship’s mighty bones, I kissed her shoulder and held her close.

I held her until the silence settled around us like a warm cocoon, then took her hand. Time passed in the cabin, but it hardly mattered anymore.

“I guess you won’t be needing your alone time in the bathroom tonight,” Mom said, giggling.

“You knew?”

“I’m not so old I’ve lost my hearing, you know.”

I laughed. Another secret was now out in the open, and somehow it was okay. Somehow, the evolution of our relationship felt like the most natural thing in the world.

I might have started out as Mom’s eavesdropping son. But somehow, I’d become more than that now. And Mom was not just my mom anymore—she was also my lover.

But there was one secret that lingered, one secret that I was afraid to touch.

The next day, the ship docked on a small Spanish island.

The sun baked the sand as we walked from the pier, crossed a narrow street lined with sleepy shops and restaurants, and made our way toward a secluded stretch of beach.

Waves whispered secrets to the shore as we laid our towel out and lay down side by side.

Mom wore a see-through dress over her bikini today, her mature curves clearly visible to anyone who looked closely.

Her bikini left little to the imagination, but I didn’t mind if others watched. Let them see. Out here where nobody knew us, it didn’t matter.

Still, I kept one possessive hand on Mom the entire time—an arm over her shoulders, a hand resting against the exposed skin of her tight belly.

They could look all they wanted. Nobody else was allowed to touch her but me.

If I were being honest, the text I saw on Mom’s phone still bothered me. She hadn’t mentioned anything about it, and our new dynamics were still so unfamiliar that I couldn’t tell if she was acting normal.

Some of the ship’s crew and passengers wandered to the same beach, staking their own claims on territory further down the shoreline.

They nodded and waved at us as they passed. A few even said hello, looking straight at us with envy in their eyes.

"We should be careful," Mom said softly, though she didn’t pull away when I squeezed her shoulder.

"Careful is overrated," I said, feeling bold under the Spanish sun.

Her smile was sultry beneath her sunglasses.

Everyone thought they knew who we were—a couple in love, far from home. They didn’t know any better, and we could be who we really wanted to be.

Mom turned onto her side to face me, propping herself up on one elbow. Her bare leg brushed against mine, sending electricity through my body.

"This doesn’t feel like real life," she murmured, tracing a finger along my chest. A shiver ran through me despite the heat.

"Maybe this is what real life should be like," I replied, watching how the sunlight played across her skin, making it glow golden.

She laughed then—a soft sound that left my head spinning. "You’re impossible."

"And you love that about me," I said as I pulled her closer until we were pressed together on the soft towel.

Her lips against mine answered more than words could say. It gave me the courage to finally ask her about the text from her ex-boyfriend.

I didn’t want her to think I was snooping, so I made it clear that I’d accidentally seen it. My heart pounded as I spoke the question out loud, “Do you want to get back together with him?”

Mom shook her head with reassuring confidence.

“I don’t know what lies in my future, but I know I’m not going back to the past,” she said, effortlessly moving a big weight off my shoulders with a single sentence.

Hours went by unnoticed while we let ourselves get lost in each other among strangers who would never understand how right it felt to be here with nothing between us but salt air and sunlit promises.

I snuggled close to Mom and pressed my hard-on against her ass. She shifted back against me, and I nuzzled into her neck, breathing in the scent of her skin mixed with salt and sunscreen.

"We can live like this forever," I whispered as I kissed the delicate spot just below her ear. "We can go somewhere people don't know us."

Mom let out a soft, shuddering sigh that escaped like a moan, heavy with desire. Her body melted against mine.

"Yes," she breathed, arching into my touch as I slipped a hand beneath the fabric of her dress and under the thin string of her bikini bottom. "Yes."

That single word was enough to drive me wild with wanting. It was also enough to set something new in motion inside me—a purpose that burned brighter than anything else I'd ever felt before: to make it so we could live like this forever, to move somewhere nobody knew us, to love my mom the way she’d always deserved, out in the open.

The sun dipped low on the horizon, casting everything in warm amber hues as we gathered our things and made our way back toward the pier. The ship loomed large against the darkening sky, a temporary sanctuary but no longer enough.

In the days that followed, I thought of little else.

We stopped at new ports—Lisbon and Bordeaux—and explored hidden streets where old buildings leaned in to share their secrets.

In every port, new winds flirted with Mom’s golden tresses as waves continued to lap greedily at the shores.

Each night in our cabin, I held Mom tighter, fucked her longer, devoured every inch of her body as if to imprint myself on her soul.

She no longer held herself back with the sexy, little noises she made. Her shameless cries rang through thin walls like music from another world—the real world we were meant to inhabit once everything else fell away.

Our trip finally ended where it began at home, but nothing was quite the same. Not when we'd tasted freedom so complete.

The city felt small and stifling now, a place for other people who couldn't dream bigger than rules allowed.

Mom seemed nervous at first, unsure if I'd follow through or if it was all vacation fantasy dissolving under reality's weight.

But I was relentless as I searched for something more permanent than escape—a house on the coast of Maine with miles of empty beach; a penthouse in some foreign city where nobody would care or notice; a remote village halfway around the world with no one but us two consenting adults and endless time.

She said yes again when I showed them to her one by one, each possibility more enticing than the last.

I didn’t know where life would take us from here. But meanwhile, as we waited, I spent a lot of time fucking Mom in her bedroom.

I could wait. I could be patient. As long as I held on to the knowledge that I’d never have to just listen from the other side ever again.

+++

Hi, Brooke here! Thank you for reading this story. Check out my reddit profile for more taboo erotica! ;)

Looking for Chapter 1? Click here!

+++

After looking all over the cruise ship, I finally saw Mom. She was perched on the railing, a drink in hand, dressed in one of her thin sundresses that allowed sun rays to penetrate and display her alluring silhouette.

“It’s time for dinner,” I said.

With my heart pounding, I reached for Mom’s dainty hand and she allowed it, not gripping back but not letting go either as we walked hand in hand along the deck in silence.

“Nice evening for a romantic walk by the sea.” The waitress at the front of the restaurant greeted us with a big smile.

“Yes,” I said, awkwardly returning her smile.

As she showed us our table, I noticed Mom looking at me with a strange look on her face, and I just squeezed her hand.

Candlelight flickered on our table as we took our seats across from each other. The sea sprawled beyond the windows, turning dark and mysterious, whispering secrets only it could keep.

“Is this a special occasion? An anniversary, maybe?” A waiter asked as he brought us the drinks menu.

This was one of the specialty restaurants on the ship, which meant that only a handful of tables were taken. It was a fair assumption that a couple who chose to dine here were celebrating something.

I told the waiter that it was a special occasion without giving him any specifics and ordered a bottle of champagne. Catching Mom’s questioning gaze, I gave her a smile.

The waiter saw the looks that we were giving each other and before he left to get our order, he said, “Aww… You two look so good together.”

In the quiet restaurant, it took no time at all for the waiter to come back, uncork our champagne, and pour it into our glasses.

“To us,” I said to Mom, raising my glass.

She hesitated before clinking hers against mine, eyes searching my face for something unspoken as we sipped our drinks.

We were silent as the first courses arrived, our thoughts louder than any words we might have dared share. Her foot brushed mine under the table—not accidentally—and she didn’t pull it back.

Each moment stretched between us like taut silk as we ate slowly enough to make it last, neither of us eager to break whatever spell had taken hold.

“Everyone thinks we’re together,” she said finally, glancing around at the envious looks cast our way.

I leaned back in my chair and smiled at her discomfort—or was it something else?

“Does it bother you?” I asked.

A shadow of a smile played on her lips before she looked down into her lap where her napkin lay crumpled.

“Not really,” she admitted.

Something shifted then—an understanding without need for words; an agreement signed by silence.

She looked up again, meeting my gaze with newfound boldness that sent heat rushing through me like wildfire. Maybe it was the maritime air or being around strangers—whatever it was felt dangerously right.

We left long after dessert plates were cleared away; more staff nodded approvingly as we passed them by still holding hands—but now I felt hers grip back warmly around mine.

On the deck again with stars watching from above, she leaned into me while we strolled along polished rails slick with the night’s condensation.

A deliberate touch here, a breath soft against my neck there—and suddenly everything seemed possible out here where nobody knew us except ourselves.

Back in our cabin, amidst tangled sheets perfumed faintly by salt spray, we tore into each other’s clothes, yanking them off and tossing them to the floor.

"Wait. We need to talk. Should we really be doing this?" Mom weakly protested as she lay naked under me, her words coming out with the gasps that punctuated her labored breaths.

"Tell me why we shouldn't, and I'll consider it,” I whispered into her ear as I kissed her neck and played with her tits.

“We just… Maybe… Shouldn’t…” Her voice was thin, unconvincing. She trembled under my touch, gasping softly.

“Why not? We’re just two consenting adults, doing what many consenting adults do together.” I lowered my mouth over her sensitive nipple, licking it softly with my tongue.

“I don’t…” The rest of Mom’s sentence fell away as she let out a familiar moan that made my cock ache with yearning.

“If you want me to stop, all you have to do is tell me. What we’re doing is only wrong if you don’t consent to this—” I bit her nipple and held it between my teeth “—or this—” I pressed the hardened nub nestled in her folds “—or this.”

Mom said nothing, her teeth biting down on her lower lip, as I pressed two fingers at her opening and pushed deep into her pussy. She moaned as I touched, and I grabbed, and I groped her body like it was the only thing that mattered in the world.

Mom was wet, her pussy soaked in her own juices as she writhed on the tangled sheets, moaning just for me.

I took my fingers out of her pussy and got on top of her, aligning the tip of my cock with her slick opening. “Tell me if you don’t want this.”

"Please,” she muttered as she lifted her hips up off the bed, pressing herself against me. “Please, please please…”

“Fuck, Mom,” I groaned.

With that eloquent expression of desire, I slid in smoothly into Mom’s pussy, burying myself balls deep inside her.

Her breath caught, and her protests dissolved into moans as I pulled her roughly against me.

We had sex that was slow and gentle at first, then wild and urgent as the small room filled with nothing but our ragged breaths and the sounds of us fucking on the bed, on the floor, in every corner that left no space unclaimed.

I pulled Mom’s hair, and I pinched her nipples until they hurt, savoring the way her eyes rolled back with pleasure, the way she arched for more.

She loved it hard and desperate as much as she loved it tender.

She came like a tidal wave, like she was drowning, like we both were drowning together, before finally collapsing against my chest.

We lay tangled in damp sheets, our skin slick with sweat and satisfaction. Out here where nobody knew us, we were free to be whatever we wanted to be. Just two consenting adults.

When our breathing finally slowed, when we could hear the gentle patter of footsteps in the hallway and the creak of the ship’s mighty bones, I kissed her shoulder and held her close.

I held her until the silence settled around us like a warm cocoon, then took her hand. Time passed in the cabin, but it hardly mattered anymore.

“I guess you won’t be needing your alone time in the bathroom tonight,” Mom said, giggling.

“You knew?”

“I’m not so old I’ve lost my hearing, you know.”

I laughed. Another secret was now out in the open, and somehow it was okay. Somehow, the evolution of our relationship felt like the most natural thing in the world.

I might have started out as Mom’s eavesdropping son. But somehow, I’d become more than that now. And Mom was not just my mom anymore—she was also my lover.

But there was one secret that lingered, one secret that I was afraid to touch.

The next day, the ship docked on a small Spanish island.

The sun baked the sand as we walked from the pier, crossed a narrow street lined with sleepy shops and restaurants, and made our way toward a secluded stretch of beach.

Waves whispered secrets to the shore as we laid our towel out and lay down side by side.

Mom wore a see-through dress over her bikini today, her mature curves clearly visible to anyone who looked closely.

Her bikini left little to the imagination, but I didn’t mind if others watched. Let them see. Out here where nobody knew us, it didn’t matter.

Still, I kept one possessive hand on Mom the entire time—an arm over her shoulders, a hand resting against the exposed skin of her tight belly.

They could look all they wanted. Nobody else was allowed to touch her but me.

If I were being honest, the text I saw on Mom’s phone still bothered me. She hadn’t mentioned anything about it, and our new dynamics were still so unfamiliar that I couldn’t tell if she was acting normal.

Some of the ship’s crew and passengers wandered to the same beach, staking their own claims on territory further down the shoreline.

They nodded and waved at us as they passed. A few even said hello, looking straight at us with envy in their eyes.

"We should be careful," Mom said softly, though she didn’t pull away when I squeezed her shoulder.

"Careful is overrated," I said, feeling bold under the Spanish sun.

Her smile was sultry beneath her sunglasses.

Everyone thought they knew who we were—a couple in love, far from home. They didn’t know any better, and we could be who we really wanted to be.

Mom turned onto her side to face me, propping herself up on one elbow. Her bare leg brushed against mine, sending electricity through my body.

"This doesn’t feel like real life," she murmured, tracing a finger along my chest. A shiver ran through me despite the heat.

"Maybe this is what real life should be like," I replied, watching how the sunlight played across her skin, making it glow golden.

She laughed then—a soft sound that left my head spinning. "You’re impossible."

"And you love that about me," I said as I pulled her closer until we were pressed together on the soft towel.

Her lips against mine answered more than words could say. It gave me the courage to finally ask her about the text from her ex-boyfriend.

I didn’t want her to think I was snooping, so I made it clear that I’d accidentally seen it. My heart pounded as I spoke the question out loud, “Do you want to get back together with him?”

Mom shook her head with reassuring confidence.

“I don’t know what lies in my future, but I know I’m not going back to the past,” she said, effortlessly moving a big weight off my shoulders with a single sentence.

Hours went by unnoticed while we let ourselves get lost in each other among strangers who would never understand how right it felt to be here with nothing between us but salt air and sunlit promises.

I snuggled close to Mom and pressed my hard-on against her ass. She shifted back against me, and I nuzzled into her neck, breathing in the scent of her skin mixed with salt and sunscreen.

"We can live like this forever," I whispered as I kissed the delicate spot just below her ear. "We can go somewhere people don't know us."

Mom let out a soft, shuddering sigh that escaped like a moan, heavy with desire. Her body melted against mine.

"Yes," she breathed, arching into my touch as I slipped a hand beneath the fabric of her dress and under the thin string of her bikini bottom. "Yes."

That single word was enough to drive me wild with wanting. It was also enough to set something new in motion inside me—a purpose that burned brighter than anything else I'd ever felt before: to make it so we could live like this forever, to move somewhere nobody knew us, to love my mom the way she’d always deserved, out in the open.

The sun dipped low on the horizon, casting everything in warm amber hues as we gathered our things and made our way back toward the pier. The ship loomed large against the darkening sky, a temporary sanctuary but no longer enough.

In the days that followed, I thought of little else.

We stopped at new ports—Lisbon and Bordeaux—and explored hidden streets where old buildings leaned in to share their secrets.

In every port, new winds flirted with Mom’s golden tresses as waves continued to lap greedily at the shores.

Each night in our cabin, I held Mom tighter, fucked her longer, devoured every inch of her body as if to imprint myself on her soul.

She no longer held herself back with the sexy, little noises she made. Her shameless cries rang through thin walls like music from another world—the real world we were meant to inhabit once everything else fell away.

Our trip finally ended where it began at home, but nothing was quite the same. Not when we'd tasted freedom so complete.

The city felt small and stifling now, a place for other people who couldn't dream bigger than rules allowed.

Mom seemed nervous at first, unsure if I'd follow through or if it was all vacation fantasy dissolving under reality's weight.

But I was relentless as I searched for something more permanent than escape—a house on the coast of Maine with miles of empty beach; a penthouse in some foreign city where nobody would care or notice; a remote village halfway around the world with no one but us two consenting adults and endless time.

She said yes again when I showed them to her one by one, each possibility more enticing than the last.

I didn’t know where life would take us from here. But meanwhile, as we waited, I spent a lot of time fucking Mom in her bedroom.

I could wait. I could be patient. As long as I held on to the knowledge that I’d never have to just listen from the other side ever again.

+++

Hi, Brooke here :) Thank you for reading this story. Check out my reddit profile for more taboo erotica!

All characters 18+. MC is 27 and his mom is in her 40s. Check out Chapter 1 for more details—link in the comments!

+++

I felt the tension in Mom’s shoulders beneath my fingers, a tightness that seemed to pulse and resist every stroke.

She lay face down on the bed, her dress pulled low to expose the soft line of her back. The faint light from the portholes cast circular shapes across her skin as my fingers explored the forms and features of her body.

"You're so tense," I murmured, leaning closer. Her hair was fanned out around her head like a halo.

She sighed, a sound that vibrated with weariness and something else, something deeper, something that almost reminded me of her breathy moans.

"It’s been… a long day." Her voice was quiet, almost fragile. I pressed harder, feeling the knots give way slowly beneath my palms, and she shivered involuntarily.

"Just relax," I said. My hands moved lower, tracing the curve of her spine. Her skin was warm, silky beneath my touch. "Let go."

She shifted slightly, a soft exhale escaping her lips. Encouraged, I slid my hands over the small of her back and along her sides slowly, feeling every little detail of her skin. Her breath quickened when I grazed the sensitive area just above her hips.

"Do you want me to stop?" I asked, pausing.

"No." The word was immediate and breathless. "Don't stop."

Her response sent a thrill through me. I remember hearing those exact same words through the wall of my bedroom as I held my cock in my hand, all the cells in my body focused on listening to her.

I adjusted my position over her body, letting my fingers dip lower as they traveled past the waistband of her dress.

There was no hiding my intention if I kept going.

Mom was quiet, her body rising and falling with her breaths, which I noticed were growing heavier.

Her fingers grabbed onto the bedsheets, reminding me of the way my ex-girlfriends had acted while we were fucking. And despite my efforts, her body was still tense—just like mine.

In this position, with me straddling her, my hard cock hovering so close to her ass, it was impossible to rein in my thoughts. All of my forbidden fantasies screamed in my head, telling me to seize the moment.

“Tell me if you want me to stop,” I said, making sure I wasn’t crossing any lines she didn’t want me to cross.

I pulled the hem of Mom’s dress up until it bunched up around her waist, revealing the most perfect, round ass I’d ever seen.

Like a moth to a flame, I reached my hands out to touch it before I could even think. I’d dreamed of this moment so many times I’d lost count.

Sliding my hands to her hips, tentatively, I gripped her like I’d held past girlfriends during sex, when I was pumping my cock in and out of them. My mind went wild with dark desires as I imagined myself doing the same with my mom.

A small, almost imperceptible moan snapped me out of my thoughts. The moan ended abruptly, as if Mom had just realized she’d made the sound and stopped herself.

I pricked my ears up. Soft, instrumental music gently played in our small room as waves lapped at the ship. Mom’s breaths sounded fast and shallow, as if her heart was beating as hard as mine.

I moved my hands lower, sliding them over her thighs and feeling the muscle quiver under my touch. The sound of her breathing filled the room, louder than anything else.

My cock throbbed so hard that it almost hurt.

I ran my hands up and down her thighs, getting closer to the inside every time they slid back up. The first deliberate touch on her inner leg made Mom gasp softly.

The second time around, when I pressed harder against the tender skin there, she let out a louder moan, not bothering to cut it short this time.

Blood roared in my ears. I didn’t bother asking if she wanted me to stop again.

I moved one hand up her thigh until there was only one place left for it to go. No pretense left at all. No turning back now.

She arched into the touch when I slipped my hands between her legs, finding her pussy over her panties. She was already wet, the lacy material soaked with her juices.

Every caress elicited a quiver, a gasp that set fire to the space between us.

Mom’s hips instinctively rose off the mattress as she pushed herself closer to me.

In one swift motion that surprised even me, I tugged the crotch of her panties aside and pressed my finger against her clit from behind.

“Fuck,” she whispered quietly into the sheets.

I rubbed small circles against it until she writhed so much that she almost squirmed away from me.

Then I pushed one finger deep inside of her before sliding it back out again.

Her pussy was slick but tight as hell, wrapping around my finger as if begging for more.

I gave her two fingers next, angling my hand so that I hit a different spot every time they went back in.

Her moans grew louder with each thrust of my hand, more frantic than I’d ever heard before.

Desperate.

Needy.

A rush of blood flooded through me at the thought that I was making her feel this way—not her dumb boyfriend, not any other man. Me.

I started fingering her faster. Harder.

Mom clamped both hands onto the bed sheets as if holding on for dear life. She sounded just like she had during those long nights, when I’d listened through my wall with my cock in my hand.

“Don’t stop,” she gasped, sounding so much like my fantasies that a wave of pure lust knocked everything else out of me: restraint, hesitation, doubt, reason—all gone now. Every single bit gone except desire for her and need to make her come harder than anyone had before.

“Come for me, Mom,” I whispered in her ear.

Her whole body tensed. Then her breath caught, and she exploded around my fingers with a raw, guttural sound that made my cock throb uncontrollably.

I kept thrusting my fingers into her until the spasms stopped and she collapsed onto the bed in a shuddering heap.

Slowly, she turned over to face me. Her eyes were dark with desire.

My breath caught. I’d never seen Mom like this before—her hair a mess, her skin flushed red as she came down from her orgasm, her eyes boring deep into mine, inviting me, challenging me to do my worst to her.

She didn’t hesitate before pulling me down on top of her, forcing me to meet her lips in a deep, hungry kiss that sent tremors through every cell in my body.

With one hand still tangled in my hair, she reached for the front of my jeans. The zipper came undone, and then I was out. Bare against bare.

She wrapped her legs around me, pulling me closer until I felt the heat of her pussy against the head of my cock.

I couldn’t hold back any longer.

I pushed inside her slowly, feeling inch after inch of myself disappear into her wetness.

“Fuck,” I groaned against her neck as I sank deeper and deeper until there was nothing left to give.

We both paused there for a moment. Her tight warmth surrounded me completely—a sensation so intense that it almost floored me right then and there.

Then we started moving together—gently at first, feeling each other out with soft gasps and slow thrusts while our hands explored every bit of skin they could reach.

Mom’s hips rose to meet mine over and over again, faster every time until we found a rhythm so perfect that neither of us had words left for anything.

Every time I sank my cock into her pussy, her muscles gripped harder and tighter. I could feel her body tensing up as another orgasm approached.

“Don’t stop,” she breathed into my ear as she dug her nails into my back. “Don’t you fucking stop!”

I pistoned into her harder than ever before, guided by every familiar moan that escaped from her lips, every quiver of her body beneath mine.

I fucked her faster, more desperately, as we both raced toward release together.

Her legs tightened around my waist as her movements became frantic again—her eyes squeezed shut, mouth open wide with the sounds that used to drive me insane from the room next door.

I remembered all those times when I could only imagine what she looked like just before coming apart. Now I was seeing it all—the way she spasmed underneath me as another orgasm rocked through her body, feeling it all as her pussy tightened like a vice around my engorged cock.

I couldn’t hold back anymore. Years of repressed lust roared to the surface, boiled in my balls, and shot out of my cock, straight into Mom’s unprotected pussy. I came so hard that I almost blacked out. Then I collapsed against her, feeling our hearts pound together in the aftermath.

Neither of us said anything for a long while.

As my cock softened inside her, even as my body relaxed from the orgasm, my mind raced.

What had we done? What did this mean for us? Had she wanted this for some time? Did she regret it?

Did I regret it?

I swallowed.

Did I?

I’d wanted to fuck Mom for years. Now that we’d done it, did I regret it?

A tinge of guilt and shame crept into my chest as I really thought about what we’d just done. But was it just because I’d conditioned myself to feel this way after any kind of sexual release that involved Mom?

Softly, Mom excused herself, quietly slipping out from under me and disappearing into the bathroom.

Water ran for a few minutes before she returned with damp washcloths. Her eyes flicked toward me, hesitant now, unsure of what to say or where to start.

We cleaned up without speaking, avoiding each other’s gaze and moving carefully around one another like strangers who’d just met—a huge gulf between us despite what we’d just done together.

When we were finished, she dressed swiftly and stood by the door as if she were about to leave.

“Maybe… Maybe we should talk later,” she said, her voice shaky.

“Yeah,” I agreed, stuffing my legs into my jeans and trying to ignore how hollow everything sounded now that it was all over. “Later.”

She nodded once and walked out of the cabin—probably to clear out her head and think without this thick scent of sex hanging in the air clouding her mind.

It was a good idea. Maybe I needed some fresh air, too.

I got up from the bed, slid the door open, and stood in the small balcony where I stared out into the sea for a while as thoughts battled in my head.

I didn’t know how long I stayed out there, but it was starting to get dark when I went back inside.

Mom wasn’t back yet—probably hiding away in some corner of the ship that wouldn’t remind her of what we’d just done—but something else caught my eye instead.

Her phone was on the bedspread, lighting up with a message notification from her ex-boyfriend.

A knot twisted tight in my stomach at what it said:

“I’m sorry about everything. I love you. Call me.”

+++

Hi, Brooke here. Thank you for reading this story! Give me a few days and I’ll post the last chapter from this first book in the Romancing Mom series. Follow my reddit profile and never miss out! ;)

Click here for Chapter 1.

+++

I felt the tension in Mom’s shoulders beneath my fingers, a tightness that seemed to pulse and resist every stroke.

She lay face down on the bed, her dress pulled low to expose the soft line of her back. The faint light from the portholes cast circular shapes across her skin as my fingers explored the forms and features of her body.

"You're so tense," I murmured, leaning closer. Her hair was fanned out around her head like a halo.

She sighed, a sound that vibrated with weariness and something else, something deeper, something that almost reminded me of her breathy moans.

"It’s been… a long day." Her voice was quiet, almost fragile. I pressed harder, feeling the knots give way slowly beneath my palms, and she shivered involuntarily.

"Just relax," I said. My hands moved lower, tracing the curve of her spine. Her skin was warm, silky beneath my touch. "Let go."

She shifted slightly, a soft exhale escaping her lips. Encouraged, I slid my hands over the small of her back and along her sides slowly, feeling every little detail of her skin. Her breath quickened when I grazed the sensitive area just above her hips.

"Do you want me to stop?" I asked, pausing.

"No." The word was immediate and breathless. "Don't stop."

Her response sent a thrill through me. I remember hearing those exact same words through the wall of my bedroom as I held my cock in my hand, all the cells in my body focused on listening to her.

I adjusted my position over her body, letting my fingers dip lower as they traveled past the waistband of her dress.

There was no hiding my intention if I kept going.

Mom was quiet, her body rising and falling with her breaths, which I noticed were growing heavier.

Her fingers grabbed onto the bedsheets, reminding me of the way my ex-girlfriends had acted while we were fucking. And despite my efforts, her body was still tense—just like mine.

In this position, with me straddling her, my hard cock hovering so close to her ass, it was impossible to rein in my thoughts. All of my forbidden fantasies screamed in my head, telling me to seize the moment.

“Tell me if you want me to stop,” I said, making sure I wasn’t crossing any lines she didn’t want me to cross.

I pulled the hem of Mom’s dress up until it bunched up around her waist, revealing the most perfect, round ass I’d ever seen.

Like a moth to a flame, I reached my hands out to touch it before I could even think. I’d dreamed of this moment so many times I’d lost count.

Sliding my hands to her hips, tentatively, I gripped her like I’d held past girlfriends during sex, when I was pumping my cock in and out of them. My mind went wild with dark desires as I imagined myself doing the same with my mom.

A small, almost imperceptible moan snapped me out of my thoughts. The moan ended abruptly, as if Mom had just realized she’d made the sound and stopped herself.

I pricked my ears up. Soft, instrumental music gently played in our small room as waves lapped at the ship. Mom’s breaths sounded fast and shallow, as if her heart was beating as hard as mine.

I moved my hands lower, sliding them over her thighs and feeling the muscle quiver under my touch. The sound of her breathing filled the room, louder than anything else.

My cock throbbed so hard that it almost hurt.

I ran my hands up and down her thighs, getting closer to the inside every time they slid back up. The first deliberate touch on her inner leg made Mom gasp softly.

The second time around, when I pressed harder against the tender skin there, she let out a louder moan, not bothering to cut it short this time.

Blood roared in my ears. I didn’t bother asking if she wanted me to stop again.

I moved one hand up her thigh until there was only one place left for it to go. No pretense left at all. No turning back now.

She arched into the touch when I slipped my hands between her legs, finding her pussy over her panties. She was already wet, the lacy material soaked with her juices.

Every caress elicited a quiver, a gasp that set fire to the space between us.

Mom’s hips instinctively rose off the mattress as she pushed herself closer to me.

In one swift motion that surprised even me, I tugged the crotch of her panties aside and pressed my finger against her clit from behind.

“Fuck,” she whispered quietly into the sheets.

I rubbed small circles against it until she writhed so much that she almost squirmed away from me.

Then I pushed one finger deep inside of her before sliding it back out again.

Her pussy was slick but tight as hell, wrapping around my finger as if begging for more.

I gave her two fingers next, angling my hand so that I hit a different spot every time they went back in.

Her moans grew louder with each thrust of my hand, more frantic than I’d ever heard before.

Desperate.

Needy.

A rush of blood flooded through me at the thought that I was making her feel this way—not her dumb boyfriend, not any other man. Me.

I started fingering her faster. Harder.

Mom clamped both hands onto the bed sheets as if holding on for dear life. She sounded just like she had during those long nights, when I’d listened through my wall with my cock in my hand.

“Don’t stop,” she gasped, sounding so much like my fantasies that a wave of pure lust knocked everything else out of me: restraint, hesitation, doubt, reason—all gone now. Every single bit gone except desire for her and need to make her come harder than anyone had before.

“Come for me, Mom,” I whispered in her ear.

Her whole body tensed. Then her breath caught, and she exploded around my fingers with a raw, guttural sound that made my cock throb uncontrollably.

I kept thrusting my fingers into her until the spasms stopped and she collapsed onto the bed in a shuddering heap.

Slowly, she turned over to face me. Her eyes were dark with desire.

My breath caught. I’d never seen Mom like this before—her hair a mess, her skin flushed red as she came down from her orgasm, her eyes boring deep into mine, inviting me, challenging me to do my worst to her.

She didn’t hesitate before pulling me down on top of her, forcing me to meet her lips in a deep, hungry kiss that sent tremors through every cell in my body.

With one hand still tangled in my hair, she reached for the front of my jeans. The zipper came undone, and then I was out. Bare against bare.

She wrapped her legs around me, pulling me closer until I felt the heat of her pussy against the head of my cock.

I couldn’t hold back any longer.

I pushed inside her slowly, feeling inch after inch of myself disappear into her wetness.

“Fuck,” I groaned against her neck as I sank deeper and deeper until there was nothing left to give.

We both paused there for a moment. Her tight warmth surrounded me completely—a sensation so intense that it almost floored me right then and there.

Then we started moving together—gently at first, feeling each other out with soft gasps and slow thrusts while our hands explored every bit of skin they could reach.

Mom’s hips rose to meet mine over and over again, faster every time until we found a rhythm so perfect that neither of us had words left for anything.

Every time I sank my cock into her pussy, her muscles gripped harder and tighter. I could feel her body tensing up as another orgasm approached.

“Don’t stop,” she breathed into my ear as she dug her nails into my back. “Don’t you fucking stop!”

I pistoned into her harder than ever before, guided by every familiar moan that escaped from her lips, every quiver of her body beneath mine.

I fucked her faster, more desperately, as we both raced toward release together.

Her legs tightened around my waist as her movements became frantic again—her eyes squeezed shut, mouth open wide with the sounds that used to drive me insane from the room next door.

I remembered all those times when I could only imagine what she looked like just before coming apart. Now I was seeing it all—the way she spasmed underneath me as another orgasm rocked through her body, feeling it all as her pussy tightened like a vice around my engorged cock.

I couldn’t hold back anymore. Years of repressed lust roared to the surface, boiled in my balls, and shot out of my cock, straight into Mom’s unprotected pussy. I came so hard that I almost blacked out. Then I collapsed against her, feeling our hearts pound together in the aftermath.

Neither of us said anything for a long while.

As my cock softened inside her, even as my body relaxed from the orgasm, my mind raced.

What had we done? What did this mean for us? Had she wanted this for some time? Did she regret it?

Did I regret it?

I swallowed.

Did I?

I’d wanted to fuck Mom for years. Now that we’d done it, did I regret it?

A tinge of guilt and shame crept into my chest as I really thought about what we’d just done. But was it just because I’d conditioned myself to feel this way after any kind of sexual release that involved Mom?

Softly, Mom excused herself, quietly slipping out from under me and disappearing into the bathroom.

Water ran for a few minutes before she returned with damp washcloths. Her eyes flicked toward me, hesitant now, unsure of what to say or where to start.

We cleaned up without speaking, avoiding each other’s gaze and moving carefully around one another like strangers who’d just met—a huge gulf between us despite what we’d just done together.

When we were finished, she dressed swiftly and stood by the door as if she were about to leave.

“Maybe… Maybe we should talk later,” she said, her voice shaky.

“Yeah,” I agreed, stuffing my legs into my jeans and trying to ignore how hollow everything sounded now that it was all over. “Later.”

She nodded once and walked out of the cabin—probably to clear out her head and think without this thick scent of sex hanging in the air clouding her mind.

It was a good idea. Maybe I needed some fresh air, too.

I got up from the bed, slid the door open, and stood in the small balcony where I stared out into the sea for a while as thoughts battled in my head.

I didn’t know how long I stayed out there, but it was starting to get dark when I went back inside.

Mom wasn’t back yet—probably hiding away in some corner of the ship that wouldn’t remind her of what we’d just done—but something else caught my eye instead.

Her phone was on the bedspread, lighting up with a message notification from her ex-boyfriend.

A knot twisted tight in my stomach at what it said:

“I’m sorry about everything. I love you. Call me.”

+++

Hi, Brooke here. Thank you for reading this story! Give me a few days and I’ll post the last chapter from this first book in my Romancing Mom series. Follow my reddit profile and never miss out! ;)

Looking for Chapter 1? Find the link in the comments section.

All characters 18+. In Chapter 1, MC is 22. In this chapter, he’s 27. His mom is in her 40s.

+++

Five years had slipped by since I moved out of Mom’s house. I’d started and ended several relationships since then. Needless to say, I’d gotten out of the habit of jerking it to my mom every night.

But on a day like today, when she looked like the most beautiful woman in the world, I could feel little shards of my old, familiar obsession piercing through my defenses.

It was a bright afternoon when I took her for lunch at her favorite place, the one with the sun-drenched patio and ivy curling up its brick walls.

She toyed with her wine glass and sighed about her ex-boyfriend, her lips curving into a resigned smile as she described their breakup.

“We were too similar,” she admitted, flicking at the crumbs of bread on the tablecloth. “Both stubborn to a fault.”

Her eyes lingered on mine, searching for something like understanding or just comfort.

“You can do better than that guy, Mom.” I gave her a sympathetic nod.

As she told me her friends were happy to hear about the break-up, I found myself getting distracted by the way her fingers slid across her glass, smearing the condensation on the shiny surface.

Under the table, my cock stirred. I imagined her holding me just like that, her fingers running up and down my shaft, playing with a drop of pre-cum at the tip of my cock.

I don’t know what made me do what I did next. It could’ve been my yearning to be close to Mom, guilt at feeling this way, or maybe I just wanted her to stop being sad.

In any case, I’d just received a bonus from work and thought a trip might brighten things up.

She froze when I first told her over the phone that night. She was worried it’d be too expensive.

But I’d made good money, and who was I supposed to share it with if not her? After everything she’d sacrificed for me, she deserved to be pampered.

It didn’t take much to convince her after that. She’d always wanted to go on a European cruise.

But a week later, when I opened the door to our cabin, it was my turn to freeze.

The room was small, intimate—one queen bed instead of the two twins I’d requested. The lush expanse of white linens gleamed provocatively in the filtered sunlight streaming through the circular portholes and the big sliding doors that led to our little private balcony.

“Cozy,” Mom said behind me, a hint of amusement in her voice.

I rushed to the front desk and spent an hour negotiating amidst the long lines of impatient travelers, but every room was booked. Instead, they offered us free vouchers for drinks and meals at their specialty restaurants, even some time at the spa.

“Looks like we’re stuck pretending to be honeymooners,” I joked when I got back.

Mom arched an eyebrow in mock suspicion. “You planned this.”

A silky tension filled the space between us as we unpacked amid scattered silences that seemed to hum with anticipation.

I could almost swear that there was something different about the way Mom looked at me. She was acting almost like a girlfriend who was expecting something to happen between us.

But that was impossible. I was indulging in one of my fantasies again.

“I’ll sleep on the couch,” I said quickly before I had a chance to change my mind. If Mom found out how I felt about her, it’d ruin our relationship.

She moved closer, and I caught a whiff of her perfume, light and teasing. “Don’t be silly. We used to sleep together all the time.”

I hesitated, but she turned away to unpack, giving me little choice.

As night fell, we lay side by side in the darkened room. I could feel the heat from her body warming the small space between us.

Despite the gentle rocking of the ship and Mom’s even breaths beside me, sleep felt impossible. My mind raced back to how easy it had been the last time we’d shared a bed, many years ago when I still had no idea these kinds of forbidden feelings existed.

Hours slipped by on waves of restless tension. Every slightest movement she made sent jolts through my body, filling it with need.

When she finally nestled against me, an arm draping softly over my chest as she murmured something incomprehensible in her sleep, it was more than I could take.

Her face was just inches away from mine, each exhalation a soft caress on my neck.

I waited until I couldn’t stand it any longer before slowly untangling myself and slipping into the bathroom. My cock ached with unrelenting urgency.

Leaning against the sink, I closed my eyes and gave in, jerking off to thoughts of her breasts, the breasts I’d suckled on for nourishment, pressed tightly against me as she let out those sexy, little moans.

In my fantasy, it wasn’t an accident that she’d shifted closer to me, or that she’d breathed on my skin. In the dark, with a girlfriend, it would’ve been a clear invitation to start something.

In my head, I saw myself doing just that—kissing her, touching her until she woke up. Looking at me with sleepy eyes, she let out a familiar moan, accompanied by a sigh that landed on my lips right before I kissed her.

In the dark, in our little private space, we made love. As her body grew hot and needy, I started to fuck her rougher, pulling her hair, ramming hard into her, just the way I knew she liked it.

I came to the image of my mom coming on my cock, her pussy gripping me, milking me, draining me until I had nothing left to give her.

In the silence that followed my release, guilt mingled with relief as I stared at my reflection in the mirror. It was a familiar feeling, one I wasn’t thrilled to revisit on my first night sharing a bed with Mom.

When I returned to bed and lifted the covers to slide back in beside her, I could almost swear I saw her eyes open and focused on me for a second. She had this curious look on her face, her gaze drifting down to the front of my pants like she was checking me out.

I racked my brain trying to come up with something to say, but before I could even open my mouth, I noticed her eyes were shut. The only movement I could see in the dark was her breathing, slow and regular, her chest rising and falling under the covers.

“Mom?” I whispered.

There was no answer.

Maybe it had just been my imagination.

In the following days, we fell into a routine.

We’d spend the day doing excursions when the ship docked. In Athens, we climbed up to the Acropolis to admire the ruins, then had octopus for dinner—Mom wasn’t a fan; she said it was too rubbery. In Barcelona, we slowly savored plate after plate of jamón ibérico and patatas bravas in a lively tapas bar that overlooked the Sagrada Familia.

Back on the ship, we’d make good use of our food and drink vouchers, living it up at the bars and restaurants until we’d stumble, drunk, into bed together.

Every night, I’d make a short visit to the bathroom. I’d reimagine the events of the day through the lens of my forbidden, incestuous thoughts. In my mind, I’d fucked her against the cold stone of the Acropolis and against the altar at the Sagrada Familia, her moans echoing across ancient structures as I fucked her into one explosive orgasm after another.

In Florence, Mom did something that would fuel my fantasies for years to come.

The day started innocently enough. After walking off the ship and into the city, as usual, we split off from the other passengers.

I trailed after Mom, going wherever she wanted to wander. Today, she didn’t have her thick travel guidebook with her.

Mom had spent some time as an art student in Florence. When she boasted about still knowing all the streets by heart that morning, I challenged her to leave her book in our cabin for the day.

As we meandered through the sunlit streets, it was obvious Mom hadn’t needed my challenge to abandon her guidebook.

She knew every hidden alley and turn, leading me with a confidence that bordered on nostalgia. Her steps quickened as we approached a narrow street lined with galleries.

Inside one of them, her face lit up at the sight of familiar paintings, each piece a window to her past. She told me about the times she’d seen these same paintings when she was a young college student, words streaming out endlessly from her lips as she gestured excitedly with her hands, pointing at this painting and that sculpture.

I imagined myself sitting in art class beside her—as a fellow student, not her son. I’d seen pictures of her when she was younger, and even though her curves hadn’t been as pronounced as they were now, she was a definite hottie.

The air smelled richly of oil paints and varnish, mingling with the faint scent of dust from the aging floors. Mom would wander away from me, and whenever she came back I’d catch a whiff of her soft, sultry scent.

We lingered in the hushed spaces of each gallery, where she recounted stories of her time as an art student.

“These places haven’t changed a bit,” she whispered as we stood before a large canvas ablaze with color. “I used to spend hours sketching here.”

“Did you have a lot of friends?” I asked, curious about the life she’d led before I was born.

“Friends,” she said slowly, savoring the word. Her eyes twinkled with a mischievous gleam. “And more than friends.”

“Oh?” My curiosity was piqued.

She leaned in closer, lowering her voice, as if confessing secrets to a lover. “There were these older professors...”

I raised an eyebrow, trying to sound casual despite the sudden tightness in my chest.

“Older?”

“Much older.” Her lips curled into a playful smile. Her expression turned dreamy, wistful. “I guess I always liked the maturity. The experience.”

We drifted through the gallery’s dim corridors, her words igniting jealous thoughts in my head.

“And younger?” I ventured as we paused before another piece.

Her gaze shifted away, and a blush spread over her cheeks.

“I’ve never truly had the opportunity to find out,” she admitted with a soft, almost nervous laugh.

But then, in a fleeting glance over her eyelashes, she seemed to entertain the possibility—an enigmatic look that, had she not been my mom, I might have interpreted as unmistakable interest.

Heat surged through me at the thought. I was starting to wonder if maybe Mom wasn’t oblivious after all.

After all, during my nightly visit to the bathroom, I’d sometimes been so lost in my forbidden fantasies that I forgot to keep the volume down. It was possible she’d heard me beat my meat every night.

We left the gallery and strolled back into the streets of Florence. Each step crackled with a new tension between us, alive and electric.

We ambled toward a sun-drenched piazza where an old stone fountain spilled water into a circular basin. Couples sat together on shaded benches, holding hands and kissing softly beneath the afternoon sky.

As we passed them, I caught a sideways glance from Mom. Her eyes were filled with something more than playful curiosity—it was closer to longing.

“You’re quiet,” she said as we stopped by the fountain’s edge.

“Just thinking.” I watched her as she dipped her fingers into the cool water.

“About?” She didn’t press for an answer right away; she just looked at me with a knowing smile.

“I don’t know... Looks like you’re... having a good time,” I said finally, choosing my words carefully.

“I am,” she replied, her voice low and sincere. “Even without my guidebook.”

I chuckled, but the sound came out strained because what I wanted to say—what I really wanted to say—was stuck somewhere between my chest and throat.

Back on the cruise ship, exhaustion set in. Mom leaned against the door of our cabin, the golden glow of her skin deepened by the long day under the Italian sun, the freckles smattered across her shoulders and chest standing out like glitter.

“I’d love a massage,” she murmured, stretching her arms above her head.

“Should we check out the spa?” I suggested.

She brightened at the idea, and we made our way there. The air inside was warm and fragrant with essential oils. But as we approached the reception, a clipboard clutched by an overwhelmed attendant told us all we needed to know.

“Sorry,” she said apologetically. “We’re completely booked today.”

Disappointed, Mom turned away.

On impulse, I touched her elbow.

“I’ll do it,” I blurted out before I could second guess myself. “I’ll give you a massage.”

There was a moment of silence between us. Her eyes flickered with something that seemed to hover between decision and indecision, as if she were weighing not just my offer but everything unspoken swirling beneath it.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, she gave me a slight nod. It was uncertain and yet tinged with a hint of longing.

“Okay,” she agreed softly.

We walked back to our cabin, the air between us thick with new possibilities.

+++

Hi, Brooke here. Thank you for reading this story! I’ll post more chapters in the coming weeks—follow my reddit profile and never miss out! ;)

Whenever my mom brought her boyfriend home, like clockwork, they’d fight, then they’d fuck. I‘d press my ear against my thin bedroom wall, my ears pricked up to catch Mom’s breathy moans.

She finally dumped her boyfriend, so I decided to celebrate by taking her on a trip. She’d always dreamed of a European cruise.

But they messed up our reservations, and now we’re stuck sharing a bed on a romantic European cruise. How am I going to survive this, when the mere sound of my mom breathing in the dark beside me gets me rock hard?

All characters 18+.

+++

Mom and her new boyfriend (F, M, 40s) were at it again. This time, they were fighting over the dishes in the sink.

With a sigh, I (M, 22) got up from the dining table where I’d been working on my university assignment.

The tap water ran warm over my hands as I washed the dishes. Mom and her boyfriend were still going at it, both voices rising and crashing like waves against the walls.

I would give anything to make it stop, anything for them to find some kind of peace. The arguments exhausted me. I hated to see her hurt.

I hated even more to be a helpless witness, caught in a cycle that was not my own. As I rinsed the dirty plates from dinner, the shouting began to die down.

I knew the drill. I knew it too well. They’d fight, and then they’d fuck. It was their routine, one I was never happy about, one I’d been forced to take part in.

To be fair, nobody made me do it. It wasn’t as if I had a gun to my head. I could have put on my noise-canceling headphones and buried my head in my textbooks.

Nobody made me wash the dishes. Nobody made me stay in the house while they got up to their antics. And nobody made me go to my room, take my pants off, and jerk myself off while I listened to the sounds of Mom being fucked in the next room.

I don’t remember when it started.

When I was growing up with my single mother, I never saw her with a man. But something changed when I moved away for college.

I noticed it when I visited—the cigarette lighters that couldn’t have belonged to my non-smoker mom, the men’s clothes in the laundry hamper, Mom’s phone that constantly demanded her attention.

After I got my degree, I moved back in with Mom. It wasn’t easy to get a job in this economy, so I’d been taking extra courses to pad my resume.

In the few months since moving back into the house, it had become a familiar pattern, watching Mom bring her boyfriend home late at night. His visits grew more frequent, and soon he was a constant background in the house.

They'd come in like a tempest, always in the middle of some argument, the door slamming behind them, his heavy footsteps echoing on the hardwood floors.

He didn’t speak to me much. When he did, a curt nod or a passing grunt was the most I could expect.

His presence loomed large, drowning the house in testosterone and tension. This was his territory as much as ours now, even if he wouldn’t look me in the eye.

Most of the time, they’d spend the night outside the house and then come home to fight and fuck.

Otherwise, we’d have a tense, quiet dinner together, all three of us, and then they’d go into Mom’s bedroom to fight and fuck.

Lately, I’d started to join them.

As much as I hated Mom’s boyfriend and their fights, I’d spent a lot of time in bed tossing and turning to the sounds of their lovemaking.

At some point, somewhere between waking and dreaming, my mom’s moans buried themselves in my mind and refused to leave. All I could think about was what was happening right behind the thin wall I shared with Mom’s bedroom.

I tried to stop myself, to replace images of my mom in my fantasies with past girlfriends, but I couldn’t get away from those fucking moans.

I saw my mom’s face then, her mouth wide open, her breathing heavy and punctuated with those fucking, inescapable moans.

I thought about what she looked like being fucked. Was she lying on her back, or was she on all fours, being fucked like an animal?

I couldn’t stop it from overtaking me, this sinful ache to know, this wicked hunger to imagine. I kept thinking about my mom and her boyfriend, their bodies entwined right beyond that thin wall, his cock thrusting, her cries rising, filling all the empty spaces in the house.

My own cock was suddenly in my hand, already hard and throbbing as I squeezed it. I pumped it in time to their fucking, to the sound of their panting, to the rhythm of the headboard’s relentless banging on the wall.

I wanted to hate myself, wanted to stop, but instead I imagined them on top of each other, tangled and slick and shameless.

When they came, I came too, spurting ropes of hot white cum onto my stomach and chest, my eyes squeezed shut as I imagined it was me, not him, who was making my mom moan.

The day after the first time I’d done the dirty deed, after her boyfriend had left, I sat at the dining table as Mom fluttered around me, making coffee and toast while fielding phone calls from her clients.

As she moved around the kitchen, I could hear the soft swish of her skirt against her thighs. When she leaned over to pour coffee, I could hear the gentle rustle of her shirt against her skin. And when she spoke, I heard her soft voice as a series of moans in my head.

A faint hint of vanilla from her lotion entered my nostrils as Mom joined me at the table. The faint musk of perfume, mixed with the aroma of freshly brewed coffee, gave her a warm, comforting scent I’d come to associate with mornings.

I was frozen in place, surrounded by last night’s clutter and the echoes of my own shame. I couldn’t stop thinking about what Mom might know, whether she’d heard me, whether she was looking at me different that morning with those unreadable eyes.

Despite her calm demeanor, I kept imagining that she must’ve known that I'd listened to her being fucked, that she’d sensed the sick pull of it whenever I was around her, that she knew which fantasies got me off.

I could see her in my mind, whispering to herself, piecing it together, realizing that I came to fantasies about me fucking her instead of her boyfriend.

But she acted like it was just any other morning, and she soon left for work, but not before giving me a kiss that felt different from other kisses she’d given me in the past.

My mom had always been a beautiful woman. As I got older and my friends started to notice, I had to tell them to knock it off when they started to stare too long, or when they made lewd, disrespectful comments about her womanly curves.

I hadn’t allowed myself to think about what she looked like under her clothes then. But now that I’d come to the sounds she made while being fucked, I couldn’t help but study her.

She was lean with subtle curves, still toned from years of playing sports in her youth. Her curves were soft and alluring, with just the right amount of fullness in all the right places.

Her skin was a warm shade of olive, with freckles scattered across her shoulders and chest. Long, blonde hair fell in loose waves around her face.

Her breasts were covered in a modest, button-down shirt for work. When she bent down and pulled me into a hug, they squished against my chest. Her skin was smooth and soft to the touch, like silk against my fingertips.

The harder I tried, the harder it became to control myself. As I sat there at the dining table, I felt my cock stir in my pants and begged the universe to not let my mom notice my erection.

Luckily, she was in a rush this morning, as she often was.

As I watched her leave for work, her full hips swaying tantalizingly in the driveway, I couldn’t help but imagine running my hands over every inch of her.

The lingering scent of her vanilla lotion curled around me, weaving through the air like a haunting melody. I watched through the window as the sound of her heels clicking against the ground and the hum of her car engine disappeared.

The world outside was quiet and still, but my heart was racing as I fought against the fantasies that threatened to consume me whole.

I could almost hear the echo of her laughter from moments before, light and airy, contrasting sharply with the weight of my thoughts.

The warmth of her embrace lingered on my skin, a ghostly reminder of our closeness that filled me with both longing and dread.

My pulse quickened at the memory of her warmth—how she had pressed herself against me, her body just a breath away from igniting a spark I dared not acknowledge.

A rush of guilt washed over me as I recalled those intimate moments. Mom had touched me with warmth and innocence, and here I was, twisting it into something dark with my fucked up mind.

I felt trapped between two worlds: the son who loved his mother and the man who couldn’t escape his own darkest desires. And as much as I tried to drown them out with other thoughts, my mind drifted back to her—my beautiful mom—and the moans that crept under my skin like an itch I couldn’t scratch.

I wandered into the living room, half-heartedly attempting to focus on my assignments spread out on the coffee table. But the words blurred together, twisting into indecipherable shapes that mocked me.

The echoes of last night still lingered in my ears. They were sharper than before, vivid.

My thoughts swirled in the silence, slowly driving me insane.

I’d had enough.

I swore, then and there, that I’d never, ever, think about my mom like that again—sexually.

Abandoning my assignment, I went out to the drugstore to buy myself a pair of the best earplugs they had.

I was determined. And I stuck with it—for two whole weeks.

Then one night, Mom came home with her boyfriend again.

The air in the house instantly thickened with tension as they entered, their voices raised so loud they rippled through the walls.

I pressed my back against the cool surface of my bedroom door, breathing in the scent of Mom’s laundry softener that wafted from the pile of clean clothes on my bed.

I tried to drown out the sounds, to bury myself in thoughts of academia, but every syllable Mom emitted slipped through the cracks of my resolve.

They fought like wounded animals, raw and feral—her voice rising high and desperate, his response a growl filled with frustration. It was intoxicating and agonizing all at once; I couldn’t escape it.

Curiosity tugged at me. I crept closer to the wall that separated our worlds, leaning against it as if it could somehow reveal its secrets to me.

Then there was silence—a heavy pause that felt pregnant with unsaid words and unfulfilled desires—before everything erupted again into a fresh cycle of heated whispers and urgent breaths.

The cadence shifted from anger to something darker, more primal.

A shiver of anticipation slithered down my spine as I realized this was morphing into something else entirely.

“Just shut up!” he barked suddenly, and I could almost picture her flinching at his harsh tone.

I held my breath, the darkness of the night wrapping around me like a shroud. In that moment, time felt suspended, the air crackling with an electric tension that both terrified and exhilarated me.

I pressed my ear against the wall, desperate to catch even the faintest hint of what was happening beyond that thin barrier. Their voices softened into a murmur.

“Please…” Mom’s voice trembled, the word laced with something achingly vulnerable.

A plea? A challenge? I couldn't tell. But it ignited an insatiable fire within me, a perverse curiosity mixed with unyielding desire.

Then came another sound—an unmistakable thud as her body connected with something solid. I imagined her on the other side of the wall, her petite body pressed against it, her skin flushed, her chest heaving with every breath.

She must’ve known I could hear her. A thought crept into my mind: did she want me to hear her?

I imagined my mom caught in a tempest of conflicting emotions just like mine, her mind filled with thoughts of me every time she moaned. My fingers trembled as I shoved my hand into my pants and grabbed my cock, which was already aching, throbbing.

My heart raced. I was standing on the precipice of something forbidden, teetering at the edge of a dark abyss. The walls around me felt alive, pulsing with my mom’s desire.

I closed my eyes, imagining the wall disappearing, the boyfriend disappearing, until it was just me and my mom, caught in a spiral of guilt and lust.

I was gone. I couldn’t quit even if I wanted to.

The more I gave in, the less guilt I felt, the easier it got.

My mom became my obsession. I spent my nights fantasizing about an incestuous union between us. And when Mom was at work, I spent my days collecting material from her social media accounts and old photo albums to fuel my fantasies. I even started to take pictures of her when she wasn’t looking.

I had one of her sitting in her favorite armchair, reading a book. Another one of her loading the dishwasher, her svelte body bent at the waist. In my favorite picture of her, she was gardening in a summer dress, the sun partially shining through the thin, floral material.

That summer, I got myself my first job out of college. I knew I couldn’t break this addiction if Mom was always around, so I moved out before it took me any further into the dark.

+++

Hi, Brooke here! Thanks for reading the first chapter of Romancing Mom. Watch this space for the next few chapters, which I’ll post over the next couple of weeks. Follow my reddit profile and never miss out!

Mom wants to get pregnant, and Dad's not up to the task.

Paul has been secretly listening to his parents fuck every night. His mom's needy moans have gotten him addicted.

One day, he overhears a bad argument and decides it's time for him to step up for the family.

With his young, potent seed, he'll knock his mom up. Even if it means he has to do it in the same bed where his dad is sleeping.

All characters 18+. Paul is 25 (mentioned in paragraph 31) and her biological parents are, of course, much older.

+++

Paul leaned against the wall, the thumping rattling through the drywall and into his skull, a rhythm so familiar his cock swelled at the sound.

The bedsprings creaked with a manic insistence, and he imagined his mom pinned under her dad, her nails clawing at his back, her cunt wet and hungry for what he couldn’t give her.

“Oh, fuck, oh fuck,” came her muffled cry, raw and needy.

Paul wrapped his hand around his dick, already slick with pre-cum, and stroked hard, matching the quickening pace on the other side of the wall.

“I’m gonna make you take it,” Dad’s voice boomed, and Paul imagined the sweat dripping from his chest onto Mom’s tits, her nipples hard, her pussy clenching around Dad’s cock.

“Yes!” Mom shrieked, almost a sob, and Paul pumped faster, his breath coming in ragged gasps. “Give it to me! Give me all of your fucking cum!”

In his mind, he could see her, eyes wild and mouth open, every thrust pushing her closer. His own balls tightened, his cock throbbing in his grip.

“Fucking slut,” Dad growled.

Paul heard the animalistic slap of skin on skin, knew Dad had her bent over now, pounding her from behind, her ass bouncing with every savage thrust.

“Oh God, yes! Fuck yes!” Mom wailed.

“Take it!” he shouted, then the sound of Dad’s groan, the pants of his breath, Mom’s unconvincing moans.

Paul knew she never came with him, not that Dad cared. He pictured the cum leaking from Mom’s swollen cunt, Dad thinking it was enough for her.

The bedsprings stopped making noise. Paul heard the sound of male feet on the floor, Dad’s heavy tread moving into the hall.

Paul held his breath, waiting for the real finale, his hand frozen on his dick.

After a short pause, he heard the creak of the bed again, much softer this time, almost imperceptible through the wall. This was what Paul had been really waiting for.

He listened for the sweet whimper coming out of her mom’s mouth, imagining her hand between her legs, her fingers on her clit.

Paul’s cock grew harder. She was close, so close, and he stroked himself hard, every gasp from her lips pushing him further.

“Oh God, oh God,” she whispered quietly. In his mind, Paul could see her, eyes fluttering as she played with herself.

“Yes,” she cried softly, and Paul came with her, his cum spattering the wall, a flood of heat and need and dirty fucking want.

Mom’s breathing slowed, a quiet satisfaction, as Dad stomped back down the hall.

“That must’ve done it,” Dad’s voice rang out.

“Huh? What must’ve done what?” Mom asked.

“The pregnancy,” he said impatiently, as if she should’ve been able to read his mind.

“I don’t know. I sure hope so.”

“You should already be pregnant.” There was a cold shot of disapproval in his voice.

“Maybe it’s not my fault,” she shot back, her voice sharp. “Maybe your swimmers aren’t as strong as you think.”

“You’re not trying hard enough,” Dad said, his anger like a slap.

“I’m doing everything I can,” Mom said. Paul imagined her getting exasperated with her legs still spread, cunt glistening with her own juices and Dad’s cum.

“You better be,” Dad said, the fury in his voice a whip.

It hadn’t always been like this. Paul’s parents had been much more careful about keeping their volumes down when he was growing up. But ever since he’d graduated from college and moved back in, it seemed they didn’t give a fuck anymore.

At twenty-five, he was a grown-up, after all. They no longer felt the need to protect him from adult things.

Paul was starting to think they were letting him hear them on purpose. Maybe they wanted his help to solve this problem.

That weekend, Mom was doing the laundry in the basement when Paul came down the stairs, his footsteps soft, his breath quick.

She was bent over the washing machine, ass swaying to the rhythm of soft old-school rock from her phone, her loose t-shirt hanging low enough that he could see the curve of her tits.

"Need some help?" Paul asked, his voice close enough to startle her.

She turned, a slight flush on her cheeks, a stray strand of blonde hair falling into her eyes. "I think I’ve got it," she said, but her voice wasn’t so sure.

Paul smiled, stepping closer, his body between her and the stairs. "Dad's glued to the game," he said. "Thought I’d make myself useful."

She hesitated, her eyes flicking to the basket full of clothes, then back to his face. “Sure. I can use an extra pair of hands.”

Paul thought about how he wasn’t just offering the use of his hands, but his mom didn’t know that yet. He smiled to himself.

Paul joined her, helping her sort through the clothes. He watched her hands, imagining them sliding between her legs as she pleasured herself night after night, with only him as her sole audience, listening patiently through their shared wall.

“Hard not to hear you two arguing last night,” he said, his voice low, sending a message that this was a secret conversation, one his dad wasn’t included in.

Her face flushed, and Paul wondered if she was thinking about whether he’d also heard them fucking.

“It’s nothing,” she said. “Your dad wants me to get pregnant so bad.”

Paul smirked. “Sounds like maybe you’re not so sure.”

“I am.” She paused, her hand hovering over a pair of Dad’s socks. “I don’t know. Maybe I’m too old to get pregnant. We’re trying everything. If it doesn’t happen soon...” She trailed off, biting her lip.

Paul reached for his mom’s hand across the laundry basket, feeling the heat coming off her skin.

“Maybe it’s not your fault,” he said, echoing her words from the night before. “Maybe Dad’s just not up to the challenge.”

Her eyes snapped to his, a spark of something dangerous there, something he wanted to stoke into a blaze.

“We’ve already tried everything,” she said, her voice unsteady.

“Not everything,” he said.

“You think it’s him?” she asked, her voice breathy, almost a whisper.

“Could be,” he said, his gaze roaming over the cleavage exposed by her loose T-shirt, over the curve of her hips. “Maybe you need younger, more potent seed.”

Mom’s mouth fell open, and she swallowed hard. Paul could see her mind working, the possibilities unfolding like his forbidden fantasies.

"Maybe I can do something to help," he said, his voice low, almost a challenge.

She turned to him, her brows furrowed as she tried to work out what it was that her son was saying.

Paul let her see exactly what he was offering, the way his cock strained against his jeans.

She stared at him, her breath catching.

She said nothing. Just stared at her son in shock.

Then, her cheeks blushed. She sucked in a sharp breath, her eyes darkening, her body swaying toward him for just a moment before she turned back to the laundry, her fingers fumbling with a shirt.

“Your dad would kill us both,” she said.

Paul couldn’t help but notice she didn’t sound convinced.

“Only if he found out,” Paul said, his voice thick.

He stepped back, letting the silent tension hang between them.

For a long moment that felt like it stretched on forever, Paul and his mom just worked with the dirty clothes in front of them. He was starting to think that it was a mistake, that it wasn't going to work, when she finally spoke.

"You really want to help?" she asked, a tremor in her voice, her eyes searching his.

He nodded, the movement slow, deliberate, his eyes dark with promise.

She chewed her lip, a moment of silence stretching between them, thick with the unspoken, the forbidden.

Then she turned to face the washing machine, her ass brushing against him as she moved. "Just don’t get caught," she said, her voice almost a whisper.

Paul grinned, his cock straining against his jeans.

“We won’t," he said, and he could see the tension leaving her shoulders, see her acceptance in the way she leaned into him, her body soft and yielding.

He slipped his arms around her waist, pulling her back against him, feeling her heat, her need. She gasped, a small sound, surprised and wanting.

His hands slid under her shirt, cupping her tits, squeezing her nipples hard against his palms.

"Oh God," she breathed, already lost in him, her head falling back against his shoulder.

Paul knew his dad never put any effort into giving her pleasure. He knew if he played his cards right, she wouldn’t be able to walk away from him.

His fingers found the waist of her shorts, tugging them down, and she wiggled her hips, helping him.

"Paul," she moaned, and he knew it was a plea, knew she was ready for his seed.

He slid his hand between her legs. Her cunt was slick and ready, her clit pulsing under his touch.

"Fuck, Mom," he groaned, his own need almost unbearable.

She ground against his fingers, her breath coming in short, ragged gasps.

"Do it, Paul," she said, her voice raw, demanding.

He pulled his cock free, and she shuddered, feeling the heat of it against her skin.

"Fuck me. Knock me up," she begged, and he pushed inside her, the tight, wet grip of her pussy driving him wild.

“Fuck, Mom, you’re so tight,” he moaned, slamming into her, feeling the wild, urgent push of her hips as his cock filled the cunt that had once formed him.

She bent over and gripped the edge of the washing machine, her body open, taking him deeper with every thrust.

“Harder!” she cried, and he gave her everything he had, his cock pounding into her, his fingers digging into her hips.

“I’m going to fill you up with my seed,” he gasped.

The words made her shudder, her cunt clenching around him.

“Yes! Give it to me!” She was relentless, pushing back against him, meeting every thrust.

Paul could feel her getting closer, feel her muscles tightening as she moved with him.

“Oh God, oh God, Paul!” she wailed, and he felt her explode around him, her body spasming, her pussy milking his cock.

It pushed him over the edge, and he came hard, flooding his mom’s womb with his cum, his groans mixing with her wild cries.

Her legs trembled, and he held her up, stayed inside her, his breath hot on her neck.

They stayed like that, shaking, panting, until his cum started to drip out of her, and he pulled away.

She turned to him, her eyes hazy with satisfaction, her lips swollen and pink.

He grinned, zipping his jeans. “Think I got the job done.

“That was...” she started, then stopped herself, the words too dangerous to say out loud.

“Yeah,” Paul said, running a hand through his hair, trying to catch his breath. “It was.”

She pulled her shorts back on, cum smearing her thighs, desire still thick in her eyes.

“Paul?” she asked, her voice soft, a hint of nervousness there.

He looked at her, and saw the last of her resistance shattering.

“We’re doing this again,” she said, not a question but a statement.

He laughed, the sound low and full of promise. “Any time you want.”

She smiled, a wicked glint in her eyes, like they were co-conspirators in this dirty, delicious game.

“Better get back upstairs,” she said, slipping back into her mom voice, but the effect was ruined by the way she couldn’t stop staring at his crotch. “Don’t want your dad wondering.”

Paul nodded, jogging up the stairs, already hard at the thought of fucking his mom again. He knew she was his, and knew he’d be back inside her pussy, fucking her, coating her womb with his potent cum, until his seed took root inside her.

That night, Paul lay in bed, listening to the sounds he’d been waiting for hours.

Dad and Mom were fucking again, and Paul’s cock was in his hand again, hard as rock. This time, though, Paul didn’t waste his seed on the wall.

After Dad came, Paul listened as the heavy thud of Dad’s footsteps moved down the hallway. The door to the bathroom creaked open, then thudded shut.

Paul grinned, his cock stiffening at the thought of what Mom must be doing right now. She was probably touching herself in that big, empty bed.

He slipped out of his room, his hard-on leading the way down the dark hall.

Her door opened with a soft click, and he slipped inside, his breath catching at the sight of her.

She was on her back, her blonde hair a wild halo on the pillow, her legs spread wide, Dad’s cum leaking out of her. No panties. Her fingers danced between her thighs, her eyes closed.

“Paul,” she gasped, opening her eyes. She stared, open-mouthed, at the sliver of hallway visible through the open doorway. “What are you doing here? Your dad could come back at any moment.”

“Don’t worry about him.” Paul pulled the door closed.

He got on top of her, his mouth covering hers, his hands grabbing her tits. She moaned into his mouth, her hips grinding against his throbbing cock through the fabric of his boxers. It felt so good Paul thought he might explode before he even got inside her.

“What if your father comes back?” she whispered, but the words were strangled, needy.

Her pussy had been freshly used, hot cum still oozing out of it. Paul wanted, more than anything, to fuck his dad’s cum out of his mom’s pussy, replacing it with his own potent seed.

He knew how long his dad usually spent in the bathroom on a night like this. He knew he could do what he came here to do before his dad came back.

Paul pulled his boxers down, his cock pressing against her slick opening. “You want this?” he asked, loving the way she shivered beneath him.

“Fuck, yes,” she said, her voice urgent, and he pushed inside her, the tight, wet heat making them both gasp.

He moved slowly, feeling every inch of her cunt as it gripped him, his hips rocking in a lazy rhythm.

“Fuck, Mom,” he groaned, the soft sounds of their bodies fucking filling the room. “You’re so fucking tight.”

She arched against him, her breath coming in shallow gasps. “I can feel you,” she said, her voice barely a whisper. “So deep.”

Paul drove into her, the headboard tapping a quiet rhythm against the wall. His cock throbbed, every slow thrust making him dizzy with the need to fill her up.

“Come inside me,” she begged, her voice rising, and he could feel her holding back, the wild edge of her desire just barely contained.

He shoved a pillow under her hips, lifting her, and her eyes rolled back, her cunt taking him in, deeper, harder. “I’m going to knock you up, Mom,” he said, his voice a low growl.

She clamped her hand over her mouth, desperate to keep her cries from reaching Dad in the bathroom.

“Do it, Paul,” she gasped. “Get me pregnant.”

Paul fucked her harder, their bodies rocking the mattress. The thrill of Dad being just down the hall made it hotter, dirtier.

“Give it to me, Paul,” she said, her voice desperate. “Give me every last drop.”

He let himself go, his hips bucking, his cock swelling as it flooded her again. She bit down on her lip, her body rocking against his.

“God, yes,” she gasped, feeling him coat her insides.

Paul held her close, his cock still buried deep as they caught their breath.

“Your dad’s going to come back,” she said, but she didn’t move away.

“I don’t care,” Paul said, kissing her neck.

Her pussy was so tight that he didn’t even slip out of her as they caught their breath. He felt himself hardening again inside her, ready for another round.

God, he loved fucking his mom.

“Paul,” she gasped, feeling him swell again. “Your dad—”

“He’s not done yet,” Paul said, his voice a low rumble. He thrust into her, his cock hard and insistent.

“Fuck,” she moaned, her body helplessly responding to him.

“Turn around,” he said, pulling out of her. She shivered, already missing the feel of him.

He flipped her onto her side, the blankets covering them both as he slid into her from behind.

She gasped at the way he filled her, and he wrapped his arms tight around her, holding her in place as he fucked her.

“Paul,” she whispered, almost delirious with the feel of him.

Her words turned to wild, quiet moans, and she pushed back against him, his cock buried deep in her cunt.

He knew he should stop, knew he should leave, but he couldn’t. He wouldn’t.

Footsteps pounded down the hall, and they froze, Paul’s cock still throbbing inside her.

The door swung open, and Dad’s voice boomed. “Jesus, Paul! What are you doing here?”

“Shit,” Mom whispered.

Paul didn’t pull out, just held her close enough that Dad wouldn’t see how deep he was buried inside her sloppy cunt.

“I think he’s sleepwalking,” Mom said, breathless. “He didn’t even seem conscious when he got into bed.”

Paul grinned against her neck as she played along, his cock still pulsing inside her.

“Well, get him back to his room,” Dad said, irritated.

“Just let him sleep,” Mom said.

“For fuck’s sake.” Dad stomped across the bedroom and got into bed, the mattress dipping as he lay down next to them in the dark, sleeping under the same covers.

Dad had always fallen asleep quickly. He’d always been a heavy sleeper, too.

Paul waited, letting his breaths tickle the back of Mom’s neck as his cock throbbed inside her pussy. His arms were wrapped around her body, her hands gripping his harder when he ran his tongue over her salty skin.

When Dad’s breaths finally deepened, Paul slowly slid his cock, inch by inch, in and out of Mom’s pussy.

“Fuck,” Paul groaned, his body rigid against hers.

“Don’t stop,” Mom gasped, the urgency back in her soft voice.

Her body shook in his arms, her pussy clenching around his cock, and he knew she was close.

Unlike Dad, he wouldn’t leave her hanging. He reached his hand down to find the hardened nub nestled between Mom’s legs.

He played with her clit as he fucked her harder, his own climax building, his cum ready to flood her womb.

She started to unravel, her body trembling, her pussy walls tightening around him.

Paul kept his cock buried to the hilt as her pussy pulsed and clenched, gripping him so hard he felt like he was reaching the point of bursting even when he stayed still inside her.

“Take it, Mom,” he said, his voice a tight whisper.

She shattered around him, her cries muffled, her cunt pulsing as she came.

It pushed him over the edge, and he exploded inside her, his hips jerking as he filled his mom’s womb with his thick, hot cum.

He held himself still, his cock twitching inside his mom’s pussy as his dad lay asleep next to them.

Mom had taken three loads of Paul’s young, virile seed today, and only one of Dad’s.

Paul smirked in the dark, his cock softening inside his mom’s pussy. He had a feeling it wasn’t going to be long before Mom got pregnant.

After all, he was happy to help any time—in the basement while she was doing laundry, in the garage while she was decluttering, in her bed while his dad slept next to her.

Before they knew it, Mom’s body would swell, her belly would become round, and he’d get to watch as his seed gradually transformed the body that had once nurtured him and given him life.

Paul almost laughed in the dark, thinking about how happy his dad would be when his mom eventually showed him a positive pregnancy test.

No one would know. It would be a secret between Paul and his mom. A secret that would bond them together forever.

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Hi, Brooke here. Thank you for reading this story! If you enjoyed it, check out my reddit profile for more taboo erotica 😉