If you think it’s hot to have a really pretty – and let’s face it – really sexy lesbian mom, then you’re not exactly mistaken. It is hot. However, when she, one day, say, on your 21st birthday, suddenly turns around and wants to bonk you, possibly ten to twenty times more than she wants to bonk your other lesbian mom, perhaps for the novelty of it, who knows, and even insists, at some point, that you also bonk your other lesbian mom, perhaps for the inclusiveness of it, as a family, well, that’s not hot, that’s downright scalding hot. And time-consuming. And, to be honest, not exactly a very pragmatic way to live. Especially when you have your own life to live. I mean, it’s not exactly easy balancing a masters of business administration program, a highly competitive internship, and a fiancée, who is quite high-maintenance in her own right, with two moms, two high-maintenance moms wanting, needing you to bonk them all the time. But, alas, we all have our lot in life, and this one happens to be mine.
This new, crazy complication in my life all began on the morning of my 21st birthday.
There I was sleeping away, when my mom came into my room and opened the curtains, splashing me and the room around me with sunlight.
“Mom!” I whined, immediately bemoaning the last hour of sleep I was now more than likely going to go without, thanks to my mom and her, what I thought, at the time, was just more of her quirky, mostly inadvertent inconsideration.
“Oh, Licorice, what are you complaining about now?” my mom said, as she stood there, with most of her body turned away, in a very skimpy silky white nightgown, which did very little to obscure her even more skimpy tan panties, while she glanced back at me, her very pretty face already made up and ready to greet the day, with her long black mane of hair flowing down her back.
I couldn’t help but stare at her big round ass cheeks, and what could only be a pouch full of her pussy tucked between her legs. Worse yet, I couldn’t help but get hard, either. My mom noticed right off the bat, giggling, as she tilted her ass up more, giving me more of her pouch full of pussy to look at, then wiggling her ass.
“Mom!” I whined again. “Can you stop? You’re actually making me hard!”
“Yes, I can see that!” She smiled, with her big full pink lips, as she slowly turned the rest of her body to face me, while she half-hid behind some lighter, almost see-through curtains, as her big brown eyes surveyed the size of my cock poking up tall and thin under the sheets. Read More
Approximately a week later, after I had almost, but not really, forgot about that whole mom ravaging me thing on my 21st birthday, I woke to my other mom, as if she was trying to do her best mom impression of my other mom, came into my room and opened up the curtains and splashed me and the room around me with sunlight.
“Mom!” I whined before I even saw which mom it was. You see, had I known it was my this mom, Victoria, you might call her, my much more introverted mom, my much more calculating and cerebral mom, and dare I say, much more sensitive mom, I never would have taken such a whiny, and dare I say, harsh tone.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to…” my mom said.
“Oh, no, it’s all right,” I said, instantly remorseful. “I probably need to get up anyway.”
My mom nodded and smiled.
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She was beautiful, like my other mom, but in a different way. This mom was like Mary Tyler Moore, yeah, I know that doesn’t sound beautiful, or sexy, but I’m talking about the Mary Tyler Moore from the Dick Van Dyke show, yeah, I know that still doesn’t sound beautiful, or sexy, but trust me, she was, with those beautiful dark eyes and full lips and long dark hair.
Not unlike my other mom a week ago, this mom was wearing a skimpy white nightgown, not exactly the same nightgown, but certainly in the same family, with similar see-through parts, especially in the breast area, and man did she have some surprisingly large and surprisingly perky breasts, possibly even bigger than my other mom’s breasts, as they bloomed, nipples and all, making me bloom, cock-wise, and quick, popping up just as fast, if not faster than I had a week before, forming a tall and thin mountainous peak under my bedsheets.
My mom smiled again.
“Sorry,” I said, shrugging my shoulders. Read More
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