Why’s Everybody Always Ganging Up On Mom?

Why’s everybody always ganging up on Mom? That question has filled my mind my whole life. First, when I was still living with my mom and dad. Then, when I was 12, and us kids were forced to go live with our grandma. Then, again, when we were steadily permitted, one by one, to move back in with my mom and dad, with me being the last. I was 18, now, and I was bound and determined, more than ever, to find out. After all, I loved my mom. Probably more than anybody in the world. And I just knew she didn’t deserve always being ganged up on. And I didn’t care what I had to do to prove it.

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Why’s Everybody Always Ganging Up On Mom: Episode 1 (Featuring Grandma)

Excerpt:

So, there I was, in my room, or, well, the room I called my room for the last six years. Today, I was going back to live with my mom and dad and I couldn’t be happier.

“Maelstrom, are you ready?” my grandma said, as I heard her soft footsteps reach the doorway.

“Yeah,” I said, mildly, and a tad preemptively perturbed with her. That’s what happens when you’ve been dealing with nonstop negativity directed at the idea of me moving back in with my mom and dad, or, in particular, my mom. Sort of my Achille’s heel.

“And you’re sure you want to do this?”

“Yes.” I added even more heat. I couldn’t take it anymore. Not another negative word meant for my sweet mom. I was going home. Finally. For good. And there was nothing she could say or do to convince me otherwise. Read More

Why’s Everybody Always Ganging Up On Mom: Episode 2

Excerpt:

“Strom, I’m so going to miss you,” my grandma said, eyeing me with welled-up eyes, while we sat in her Dodge, which was parked across the street from my childhood home.

I couldn’t help it, just past her, was where I wanted to be, where I was dying to be, for the last 6 years. So many memories. The house. The neighborhood. My mom. My dad.

“Strom?” she said more emphatically, desperate to steal away some of my attention.

“I know,” I said, frowning, trying to empathize the best I could, especially after all she had done for me, especially that day, in particular, and in particular, for my cock, which was showing a hundred times more emotion about the parting of ways, swelling up and welling up in my jeans. Read More

Why’s Everybody Always Ganging Up On Mom: Episode 3

Excerpt:

“Hey, pastrami on rye, wake the fuck up!” I heard a familiar male voice say.

I did. Slowly, but surely, as I realized why I was having all the good dreams I was having, not to mention why I was having all the good pleasure I was having, as I discovered my mom’s big beautiful brown eyes watching me, with all the love in the world, while she, still, after all this time, for however long I was asleep, was continuing to bob up and down, with even more ease, if that were even possible, on my absolutely blazing robust cock, which was something she was also doing with all the love in the world, as I lied there on my back and she rested on her belly between my legs.

Then, I noticed, slightly beyond my mom’s bobbing head, slightly beyond my mom’s big round bobbing ass, one of my brothers, the oldest, not by much, just a minute or two, 22-year-old Hullabaloo, Hull for short, who, without a word, nodded back at me, as he continued, from what I could tell, fucking our mom from behind, nice and slow, which was the same way he approached everything in life, methodically, and from the looks of it, judging from my mom’s thoroughly satisfied, almost dreamy expression, very affectively. Read More

Why’s Everybody Always Ganging Up On Mom: Episode 4 (Featuring My Sister)

Excerpt:

“Tsunami!” I nearly shouted, forgetting all about my semi-hard big drooling cock drooping out of my boxer slit, as I rose to my knees.

“Maestrom!” my 19-year-old sister Tsunami, Tsu for short, nearly shouted right back, beyond surprised to see me, as she sprinted over and hopped onto the bed and right into my arms.

“I missed you so much,” I squeezed her tight, feeling her mostly naked body, save for the skimpiest black bra and black panties, both of which very see-through, pressing against me.

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“Me too,” she said, squeezing me right back, as she noticed my robust cock growing along her belly and doodling silvery goo designs across the pretty tattooed designs on her bare ribcage.

“Sorry,” I said, trying to get my cock under control.

“It’s all right,” she said, eyeing me with nothing but love, as she thoughtlessly wrapped her fingers around my growing cock and lightly jerked me.

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