The Battered Lamp Chapter Seventeen: The Decision of the Mother - Sex Stories

The Battered Lamp Chapter Seventeen: The Decision of the Mother

... “Other than Christy, how did they even connect the dots?” “We must have missed some clue we left at the cabin. We did leave in a hurry and modern forensic techniques are not to be scoffed out.” “Great. One more thing to stress about.” “And have you had coitus with your mother yet?” “Geez, Britney, you always find the way to take the fun out of anything. Even sex.” “So that is a no?” Kyle sighed. “She's been on a walk for hours thinking.” “Perhaps you should make a wish. I am sure your wife can help smooth things out.” “Definitely. But Kyle has such modern notions of free will. I haven't fully corrupted him yet.” “That's the line,” Kyle reminded his wife. “Yes, yes. Being a man of principle is also a good thing,” she smiled, leaning over to kiss him on the cheek. Britney pulled a textbook from her backpack, opening it up. “Really. The game is on.” “This is far more interesting.” Kyle turned back to the game. It was a close one. Normally, he'd be on the edge of his seat, his heart in his throat, but he could only think about Fatima, Fumi, and Christy. He wanted his wives back. All of them. He felt so helpless. He had finally seized some initiative, and he was back to waiting again. It's so damned frustrating. *Be patient, my love,* Aaliyah whispered in his mind. *You will not have long to wait.* He turned to Aaliyah. “What does that mean?” “She's walking up to the house. My homunculi see her.” Kyle was on his feet, heading to the front door when it opened and there was his mom, ...

... wet and lovely. She wore her jogging outfit, purple sweats, a clear, vinyl poncho draped over her clothing. Her black hair was matted to her face, water running down the beauty of her face. “Mom...” His heart beat faster. Hope burned. She looked at him for a moment. And then, like some spring snapped inside her, she shot forward, her arms wrapping around his neck, pulling him to her. Her mouth was hot and spicy, her wet poncho pressed against him, soaking through his shirt as her lush body writhed against him. His cock was hard in an instant as he kissed her back. His mom was a great kisser. He scooped her in his arms. She was light, her arm tight around his neck. She never stopped kissing him. His dad had been dead for five years and she had not been on a date or taken a lover in all those times. All her bottled up desires seemed to be burning out of her as his mother submitted to him. He heard his concubines and wife cheer as they headed upstairs for her bed. He sat her down when they entered her room, pulling the drenched poncho off her. Even in baggy sweats, his mother was gorgeous—Fatima matured to full beauty. He grabbed the hem of her sweatshirt, pulling it up over her wet hair. Her breasts were heavy, trapped in a cream bra. “This is so wrong,” she whispered, reaching behind her to unclasp her bra, freeing her wonderful, large breasts, dusky and topped with fat, brown nipples. “I don't care,” Kyle groaned, leaning down and sucking one of her nipples into his lips. He ...