LOF New Release: Getting To Know Mom: Episode 4: Nobody Needs To Know Mommy Is Coming

Getting To Know Mom: Episode 4: Nobody Needs To Know Mommy Is Coming
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The Getting To Know Mom Series: Episode 4: Nobody Needs To Know Mommy Is Coming by Luca Satana

Getting to know my mom has been a scream. Quite literally. But, and I think my mom would agree, nobody, and I mean nobody needs to know.

Getting To Know Mom: Episode 4: Nobody Needs To Know Mommy Is ComingFinally, there’s a series devoted to men getting to know their moms. You know, biblically speaking. And not a moment too soon.

Then, a slightly different Nobody Needs To Know Mommy Is Coming:

Okay, totally my bad. I’ll admit it. I never should have put myself in that situation. In any of these situations. Especially when I knew how much of a fan my mom was of sex. Or, in particular, a fan of a certain part of the male anatomy. Still, how big a fan I never could have known. And if I’m not careful, everyone else will know. Which was something my mom most definitely was not a big fan of. Not even a little bit.

Excerpt:

I was sleeping. In my mom’s class. I had an open period. And she had an open period. So, at some point, I just started hanging out there during my open period. Except now, I wasn’t hanging out, I was just sleeping, you know, in one of those silly little uncomfortable desk chairs.

Will?” my mom said, from her desk, where she was doing whatever she did during her open periods, which seemed more than anything else, at least up until recently, grading papers.

Huh?” I said, suddenly coming to, and finding myself trapped in this little iron maiden-like desk chair, constricted even more so with my abnormally large cock living large, or its largest, in my jeans, I guess due to the dream I was having, which just so happened to be about my mom – how weird – and what had happened in the shower a few days prior.

“Mommy’s got work – tons of papers to grade, and you’re just sleeping away over there.”

“Sorry.”

“You could at least come help Mommy.”

“How? I don’t know shit about English.”

Watch the language, mister.

“Sorry.”

“Now, you have to help Mommy.”

“Okay, but how?”

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LOF New Release: My Mom’s Fucked-Up Time-Outs Should Really Be Called Time-Ins: Episode 3

My Mom's Fucked-Up Time-Outs Should Really Be Called Time-Ins: Episode 3
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My Mom’s Fucked-Up Time-Outs Should Really Be Called Time-Ins: Episode 3 by Luca Satana

If you ask me, my mom’s fucked-up time-outs should really be called time-ins. I’m just saying. I’m not trying to be crass. Just accurate.

My Mom's Fucked-Up Time-Outs Should Really Be Called Time-Ins: Episode 3If you ask me, my mom’s fucked-up time-outs should really be called time-ins. I’m just saying. I’m not trying to be crass. Just accurate. So many things in life are inaccurate. Or, let’s face it, false. Or just lazily handled. So, I would like to get this one thing right. And that is my mom’s fucked-up time-outs should really be called time-ins.

Excerpt:

For the rest of that night and into the next, things between my mom and me were even weirder. I didn’t know when she intended to collect on her next time-out.

To make matters worse, every time I saw my mom, I was tempted to further plead my case. I mean, if you ask me, a time-out for simply asking if my mom should call her time-outs time-ins was a bit cheap. You mean, I can’t even talk about the time-outs? I don’t get it.

After all, technically, it really was time-ins. Time-ins inside her, well, pussy.

Regardless, I wasn’t about to say shit. As arbitrary as my mom was being about handing out these time-outs, she might give me a couple more for daring to bring it up again. Talk about touchy.

Be sure to sign up for author alerts on Luca Satana’s author page on Smashwords and get new title updates

The first encounter, which came later that same night, just before bed, I was standing in the kitchen and my mom slipped past me, dragging her fingertips across the bulge in my shorts.

“Oh. Hey…” I said, surprised.

“Hello, baby…” my spry little mom said, continuing on through the kitchen and into the living room.

No time-out.

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LOF New Release: My Mom Beats Me: Episode 2

My Mom Beats Me: Episode 2
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My Mom Beats Me: Episode 2 by Luca Satana

I don’t mind if my mom beats me. It’s when she really beats me, and I mean really beats me senseless, I really start to lose my mind.

My Mom Beats Me: Episode 2My mom beats me. In pretty much every sense of the word. I know. Weird. She thinks it’s hilarious. It’s sick. And gross. And freaky. And spectacular. But awful, too. And she just laughs and laughs. And I just get beat and beat. In pretty much every sense of the word. I know. Weird.

Excerpt:

Then it happened one day. After school. I was flustered. From school. From general shit. Life. You know.

So, then I see my mom on the couch playing on her tablet. Playing one of her games.

“Hey, Mom,” I said, probably sounding as miserable as I felt.

“Hey, Elvi. What’s up?” my mom said, sounding enthralled, more than likely by the game she was wrapped up in.

“Not much.”

“You sound down.”

“Yeah. General shit.”

“Whose General Shit? Sounds like a right prick.”

“Yeah. He is.” I smiled. I couldn’t help it.

If only we could take all our problems and mash them into one all-encompassing being. Someone we could direct all our anger at. And we could call him General Shit. And he’s a right prick.

“Chess?” my mom suddenly said, smiling, as she held up her tablet.

“Mom, I always beat you,” I said, trying not to smile, since I wasn’t about to expound on the fact that in the whole world, there was only one game I could regularly beat my mom at, and that was chess. Continuing to belabor that point would not be wise. Only further antagonizing my already very antagonizable mom. My very antagonizable highly competitive mom.

“Maybe not this time.” My mom smiled, and rather deviously at that.

“Mom, what could possibly change?” Okay, I wasn’t exactly following my own advice. Abort! Abort!

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LOF New Release: My Mom’s Fucked-Up Time-Outs Should Really Be Called Time-Ins: Episode 2

My Mom's Fucked-Up Time-Outs Should Really Be Called Time-Ins: Episode 2
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My Mom’s Fucked-Up Time-Outs Should Really Be Called Time-Ins: Episode 2 by Luca Satana

If you ask me, my mom’s fucked-up time-outs should really be called time-ins. I’m just saying. I’m not trying to be crass. Just accurate.

My Mom's Fucked-Up Time-Outs Should Really Be Called Time-Ins: Episode 2If you ask me, my mom’s fucked-up time-outs should really be called time-ins. I’m just saying. I’m not trying to be crass. Just accurate. So many things in life are inaccurate. Or, let’s face it, false. Or just lazily handled. So, I would like to get this one thing right. And that is my mom’s fucked-up time-outs should really be called time-ins.

Excerpt:

As you might imagine, after my mom’s first fucked-up time-out, things between us were quite weird.

Take for instance the very next night, when my dad, my mom, and me were watching TV. Well, I guess you could say just my dad was watching TV.

When my dad was home from work, he pretty much ruled the TV. After all, the TV was my dad’s one true love. Far be it for my mom or me to get in the way of something so right and so pure.

Regardless of who was actually watching the TV, the important thing to note was what was actually on, which was, of course, another CSINCIS episode, this one Sarasota, where they were dealing with a gruesome triple murder. My dad was riveted. My mom was appalled, at least whenever she looked up from the magazine she was reading. And I was bored, at least whenever I looked up from my phone.

Be sure to sign up for author alerts on Luca Satana’s author page on Smashwords and get new title updates

However, there was one thing I simply could not ignore about this particular episode, and that was the fact that the powers that be decided to throw a little role Rosanna Arquette’s way, which, to me, was always cause for alarm, since Rosanna Arquette might have the best boobs in Hollywood, at least as far as sheer volume, not so much in boob volume, but as far as the frequency in which she was willing to show them off, which was basically dozens of times throughout the years, which was something I always found to be quite generous on her part – and I salute you for that, Rosanna.

Although, since CSINCIS was network TV, it was highly unlikely Rosanna Arquette was going to get the opportunity to be so generous in this episode, which was, in a way, a good thing, since I rather not be around when my dad was admiring her, well, big and bouncy talents.

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LOF New Release: My Mom’s Fucked-Up Time-Outs Should Really Be Called Time-Ins: Episode 1

My Mom's Fucked-Up Time-Outs Should Really Be Called Time-Ins: Episode 1
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Legion Of Filth Erotic Stories NEW RELEASE

My Mom’s Fucked-Up Time-Outs Should Really Be Called Time-Ins: Episode 1 by Luca Satana

If you ask me, my mom’s fucked-up time-outs should really be called time-ins. I’m just saying. I’m not trying to be crass. Just accurate.

My Mom's Fucked-Up Time-Outs Should Really Be Called Time-Ins: Episode 1If you ask me, my mom’s fucked-up time-outs should really be called time-ins. I’m just saying. I’m not trying to be crass. Just accurate. So many things in life are inaccurate. Or, let’s face it, false. Or just lazily handled. So, I would like to get this one thing right. And that is my mom’s fucked-up time-outs should really be called time-ins.

Excerpt:

Seriously, this time, I really was just minding my own business. At least from where I was sitting. Honest.

I was at one of my mom’s little get togethers at the house, just sitting in the living room, just like everyone else, when my spry little mom suddenly scampered in from the kitchen, already halfway into one of her long and winding anecdotes, this one about going to the supermarket and grabbing the last box of Rice Krispies, as she delivered a Rice Krispies Square to each of us, when she suddenly stopped dead in her tracks and glared at me, or, perhaps, at the bulge in my jeans.

A century passed.

Then, thankfully, my mom seemed to recover, and then recover her anecdote, with only the slightest hiccup in her long and winding anecdote.

I could finally breathe easy. At least for the time being. I knew, eventually, I was going to have to answer for my crimes. For the bulge in my jeans.

However, this time, I believed I had the perfect answer. One I was quite certain would work. Mostly because it was the truth. At least from where I was sitting.

Sure enough, no less than a second after the last guest stepped out into the night, and no less than a second after my dad announced he was going to take a shit, my spry little mom suddenly wheeled around to me and crossed her little arms tight enough to strangle herself, not to mention her not-so-little boobs.

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