Mon-son Stories

Julie woke with the taste of last night still on her tongue, metallic and sharp. The red satin nightie had twisted around her waist while she slept, and the air felt cool against the damp heat between her legs. Mark’s breathing was slow and heavy beside her, one arm flung across the pillow like a barricade. She lay very still, afraid to move, afraid the memory would scatter if she so much as blinked. It didn’t scatter. It...

We get back to the hotel lobby, waiting for an elevator. The whole walk home was excruciating, my cock throbbing with desire to fuck my mom’s arsehole. My favourite part of a woman was her arse, and as long as I could remember, I’ve always wanted to fuck one. Here I am, waiting for this slow elevator, moments away from fucking one—not just anyone, but my mom. The anticipation was almost unbearable. The elevator doors open...