Every Last Thing - Sex Stories

Every Last Thing

... asked.

"Months. Years probably. I've had people tracing every scrap of paper I've ever signed, waiting for the perfect moment. Every piece you've ever signed too."

"So, we're rich?" I said. She looked at me funnily.

"If you want to be." She studied my eyes for a moment. I realized what she was saying. Money had turned my father into a pig. Was the same thing going to happen to his son?

"But we can use the money to do good?" I said. She embraced me, letting out a breath I didn't realize she was holding.

"Good boy." She whispered into my ear. The air from her mouth tickled the tiny hairs there and I felt a curious stirring in my trousers which I put down to a reflex.

"I'm taking a shower to wash that fucker out of my life. Let the food in when it arrives." With that she disappeared through a door into the bedrooms beyond. I sat in a seat and tried to make sense of what had just happened.

In the last hour, I had lost my fiancé, my father and become incredibly wealthy. Not that I wasn't before, but this was on a whole different scale. I thought of all the homeless tent villages I 'd passed over the last few years, eyes averted. I thought about the home foreclosure notices I'd seen. The headlines for various drugs crises I read. All the ills of the world. I knew I wasn't wealthy enough to solve any of the problems, but I also knew I was in a position to redistribute some wealth and make massive lifechanging differences for probably thousands of people.

Wow, ...

... I was so proud of my mom in that moment. She was a force of nature. One my father had massively underestimated. And so beautiful. That last though popped into my head again. Shit. This was mom I was talking about. We'd always been thick as thieves, but she was mom. I racked that one up to seeing dad and Barb fucking. Some kind of weird sexual transference. I stood up to answer a knock at the door, and discovered I was sporting a hardon. Weird.

I let the waiter bring in the trolley and asked them to just leave it. I slipped him a hundred and closed the door behind him. Checking under the covers, I spotted some of my favorite foods on the tray, plus a bottle of champagne in a cooler and a half dozen bottles of my beer of choice. Mom had thought of everything. I wandered over to the door to let mom know the food had arrived. Opening the door, I could hear the shower still running in a distant bedroom. I padded across to the door of the bedroom and popped my head inside. The door to the ensuite was wide open. Inside, through the steam, I could see my mom sitting back against the shelf inside the shower. Her head was thrown back, eyes shut. I could see her long neck, her big pale breasts heaving as she took gulps of air. The areolas were massive, almost as red as her hair. Her wide hips framed a flash of red pubic hair, to which she was administering a shower jet. I could make out bright red labia through the hair, labia that mom was going to work on with her other hand as the ...