Mom : She let Me do It

Erotica - Mother/son

Author

Hi, my name is Laxman Sedai, and I write under the pen name Laxu . I’m an author of erotic fiction. I’ve written over 30+ erotic fiction stories, each one crafted with raw emotion, vivid imagination, and the intensity of real-life inspiration.

My stories are deeply influenced by the people, moments, and experiences that surround me. I observe, I feel, and then I write. Whether it’s a fleeting glance between strangers, the tension in a silent room, or the unspoken desires that often go unnoticed—I take those moments and give them life on the page. My imagination is the bridge between what is seen and what is hidden beneath the surface.

I write in English, and I believe in keeping my language direct yet artistic—where every sentence serves a purpose, and every scene carries weight. My goal is to make readers feel every touch, every whisper, and every emotion that my characters go through. I want them to lose themselves in the world I create, even if just for a few chapters.

You can read My All the stories and future upcoming stories on

Contacts:

Discord: @ Laxu873

Twitter/x :  @Laxu_00

Let’s continue this journey of passion, fantasy, and fiction together.

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Chapter 1

The last month of my life unraveled like a mournful country ballad—one of those slow, aching ones that linger long after the music stops. First, I lost my job. Then, my girlfriend walked out, leaving behind nothing but a note and a hollow silence. As if the universe hadn’t made its point clear, my dog—my loyal shadow through every high and low—passed away. And just when I thought it couldn’t possibly get worse, my old truck gave up on me in the middle of nowhere, stranded on a lonely stretch of highway outside San Antonio.

I figured I’d already hit rock bottom. But life, in its twisted humor, always seems to find a way to dig a little deeper. The bank hiked up my mortgage rates without warning—something my unemployed self couldn’t dream of managing—so I was forced to sell the house, the only real stability I had left, for a price that felt like a gut punch.

Now technically homeless, crashing on a buddy’s lumpy couch, with nothing more than a backpack and blurry hope, I did the only thing that made sense—I called my mom.

Mom had always been my anchor. As an only child, we shared a quiet closeness, forged during the long stretches when Dad’s work kept him away. She’s a sharp woman—wise in ways that books can’t teach. The kind of person who never panics, always has a plan, and knows when to listen without speaking. It’s no wonder she rose from a small-time mortgage broker to a respected real estate consultant in just a few years. Her advice had always been solid—reliable like the sunrise.

So yes, picking up the phone and calling her now... it stung a little. It felt like swallowing my pride. She'd warned me, after all. She didn’t trust the company that hired me, said it smelled unstable, especially with the economy teetering like it was. She wasn’t wrong.

But truth be told, it wasn’t just about the job. After college, I wanted more than just a paycheck. I’d spent those years commuting from home, watching friends leave the nest while I stayed grounded in comfort and familiarity. Moving to San Antonio felt like my shot at independence, my chance to carve out a life that was mine alone. And for a while, it worked. For two whole years, I stood on my own feet.

Until it all came crashing down.

Still, there was something that gnawed away at my pride when I called mom to tell her about my predicament. I figured I'd get a Texas size helping of "I told you so" from her, so I took a shot of tequila before I dialed to loosen me up and lessen the anticipated pain.

"Howdy shug, how're things? Haven't talked to you in a while. How come you never call anymore?" Mom asked, sounding a bit peeved I hadn't phoned recently. And, in case you're wondering, she really does call me and nearly everyone "shug" and her voice really does sound like Nancy Gribble from the show "King of the Hill." I think they must have based at least some of that character on my mom.

"Sorry, mom. Thing's haven't been too good." I proceeded to tell her about the past month's inglorious events and waited with baited breath for my scolding. Surprisingly, though, that's not what I received.

"I'm sorry to hear what's happened to you." She said. "But listen, when one door closes, another one opens..." Her tone was compassionate and understanding, far from the tongue lashing I'd expected. "What are you fixing to do now?"

"Don't know. Probably better be out of my buddy's place in a couple days. Thinking about hitting the road for a while. Doing some rambling. Maybe moving up to North Dakota or Montana. Hear there's a lot of work up there."

"You wanna know what I think?"

"Of course, mom, that's why I called."

"I think you should come down here for a while. Take some time off, get your head together. There's no need to make any rash decisions, especially with what you've just been through. I can put you up in the guest room. I've got plenty of space. It'll be nice to spend some time with you. Plus I could use a man around the house. There's a few things that need tending to."

"You sure, mom? I don't want to impose."

"Yeah, I'm sure. Come down here and we'll figure things out."

"Okay..."

I must admit to being shocked after hanging up the phone. I'd expected a much different outcome. Not exactly sure what, but not that. I felt strange about moving back in with my mom, at the age of 24, but desperate times call for desperate measures.

It actually shouldn't be too bad, though, I thought. Just last year my mom and dad divorced and she moved into a spectacular Apartment on Padre Island. Full Gulf view, right on the beach, really an awesome place. I didn't even want to leave after last Thanksgiving when she'd hosted my girlfriend and me and a few other relatives and friends of hers.

Plus, my mom is pretty cool, too, and usually pretty laid back. Ever since I turned 18 we've drunk wines together, and since I've become an adult, our relationship has changed. We're more like friends than anything. We talk on the phone a lot, email, even Facebook, and kinda flirt sometimes with each other. Maybe part of it is because we aren't too far apart in age, since she had me at 16. Her being only 40 and me 24 isn't that great of an age difference. We actually like a lot of the same TV shows, books, music, and movies.

Also, I guess it should be said that she's pretty cute. Though she's slightly chubby, she carries it well, appearing more voluptuous than anything, with her 5'4 stature, thick frame, and perky D cup breasts and big, healthy ass. Her hair is bleach blond and curly, still kind of in an 80's big hair-ish style, but, like her extra weight, she pulls it off.

Maybe the best thing about her, though, is her face. Angelic would be the only word to describe it. Her sparkly blue eyes, cute little button nose, high cheekbones, full lips, and I mean full, Angelina Jolie type lips. She probably could have been a model had she been 6 inches taller and anorexic.

I'll admit to thinking of her sexually from time to time, at one point during my teenage years having a crush on her, though I wouldn't say these were regular thoughts after my brief crush passed. Maybe this was because I felt guilty every time I thought about her like that. Like when I had a crush on her and would masturbate to the thought of her, I'd feel terrible afterwards. There'd be this sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. I'd tried my best to wipe away all such thoughts about her, but, despite my best efforts, every so often they relapsed. Part of me worried they might return upon staying with her for an extended period of time.