Megan and Mitchell - Sex Stories

Megan and Mitchell

... ask again, what are we doing tonight?” Mitchell stood, shutting down his computer, grabbing his keys. “Maybe we can eat leftovers after I show you around the complex some.” “Leftovers?” Megan said. “Let’s hope they are fresher than the ones you threw out.” “Shoot me now,” Mitchell thought, making his way out of his room, his mother close behind him. After he gave her a brief tour of the condominiums, including a view of the Pacific Ocean and the private beach the residents rarely visited, the fitness center, and the pool area with hot tub they headed back inside. “It’s very nice,” his mother said. “But we aren’t eating leftovers. We’re going to dinner.” Mitchell took a deep breath, sighing heavily, nodding his head “yes.” He didn’t want to fight about going out to dinner. After listing several cheap restaurants only to get rebuked for each choice, Mitchell relented, telling his mother of a nice seafood restaurant that was a little pricier than he’d like to take her to. He was happy with one of the sandwich shops or chain restaurants he suggested. “Good. Now go change,” She told him. “No, this is fine.” “You aren’t wearing a t-shirt and shorts to a nice restaurant. Go change into something nice,” Megan ordered. “Why don’t you go change,” He replied. “Because I like this dress and I want to look nice. Now go change,” She ordered him once more. Minutes later, Mitchell emerged from his room wearing dress pants and a tucked in shirt, “Is this fine?” Megan smiled, moving toward ...

... him, looking into his eyes, adjusting his collar, “It’s perfect.” Chapter 3 “Hurry up Mitchell!” Megan yelled to her teenage son seven years ago. It was a mother/son social event for the Eagle Scout troop Mitchell was in. He vehemently opposed going to this event, especially with his mother, but Megan insisted, ordering him to go and bring her or he’d be grounded. “Do we have to go to this thing?” Mitchell pleaded one last time walking down the stairs. “Yes. Stop asking,” Megan said. She inspected his outfit. “No, no, no! That is not the tie I picked out. Go back and get the blue one. Geez, Mitchell, pay attention!” she scolded him. Mitchell returned a few minutes later. “Hurry! Does it take that long to put on a tie?” his mother asked. “You didn’t even do it right!” She exasperatedly told him, fixing his tie in the process. “Ugh, there, fixed. Now hurry it up!” Megan practically pushed him out of the house. Mitchell made a wrong turn on the way to the event, she jumped on his case. She didn’t like how slow or how fast he was driving, she complained about that. He didn’t hold the door open for her, she fussed again. He had trouble slow dancing, showing no rhythm, almost stepping on his mother’s feet and was once again on the receiving end of her nagging. Mitchell was mortified in front of the other teens at his table when his mother reprimanded him about which fork to use. On the way home he was clinching his teeth with anger. Dozing off on the couch later that night, the TV on ...