All Volume of Mom Series : Vol.1/Vol.2/Vol.3

My-Self

I’m an author of erotic fiction, with over 20 stories published that explore desire, emotion, and the complex layers of human connection. My stories are shaped by what I see and feel around me—those subtle glances, silent tensions, and unspoken desires that most people overlook. I observe, I absorb, and then I write. Though English is not my first language, I write all my work in English. I strive to express myself clearly and artfully, using language that is direct yet emotionally resonant. While there may be the occasional language mistake, I ask readers to look beyond the grammar and feel the emotion—the heart of the story.

You can also 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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Content Warning

This is an erotic fiction story intended strictly for readers aged 18 and above.

The story explores a consensual physical relationship between  Mother and Son, Incest with a clearly defined age gap. All explicit sexual acts occur only between characters who are 18 years old or older.

If certain scenes mention characters below the age of 18, those elements are purely for character development and backstory, and do not involve any sexual activity.

Please read responsibly. If you are not comfortable with such themes or are under the age of 18, do not proceed further.

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Chapter 1 - I

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.

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Chapter 2 - I

And a couple days later when I arrived at her Apartment, my worries were confirmed- and compounded. Driving up into her building's parking lot, I opened the door of my truck into the sweltering 90% humidity/105 heat index and saw my mom waiting for me by the front door of the 4 story beige concrete building. She looked nothing less than gorgeous.

Seems she'd lost a good 20 pounds. Her figure was tighter and more athletic, though still juicy and voluptuous as ever. She also appeared much tanner. I guess living out on the beach does that to you, but still, how bronzed she'd gotten took me aback.

"Howdy, stranger!" Mom yelled, walking towards me with open arms.

"Howdy there..." I replied, stepping down from my truck, with a goofy smile.

She hugged me and my whole body tingled at the touch of her soft skin and the wonderful sensation of her large breasts smooshing into my chest.

"Hmm, you're looking okay, but you could probably stand to lose a couple pounds." Mom said, inspecting me after we broke apart from our hug. She was always the brutally honest type.

"Seems like you've lost a few yourself. You look fantastic, wow." I said, feeling awkward about saying that to my mom and even more awkward about openly scanning her luscious body from head to toe.

"Aw, you sweet thing. I've been running on the beach nearly every day and cutting back on the ice cream. Crazy how easy it is to get into shape when you live in a place like this."

She raised her arms up to the air and spun around, showing off her new figure, which was apparent even underneath her loose floral patterned sundress.

"Damn, mom. She really look hot..." I said, unable to hold that adjective back. A moment of awkward silence ensued after I realized I'd just called my mom "hot" to her face. She smiled coyly, sort of looked to the ground, and blushed a bit. We must have stood for almost a minute without saying anything until a flock of pelicans flew by.

"That's one of my favorite things about living here on the Island. Watching the pelicans." Mom said, looking to the sky and watching the birds fly together, about six of them, in a perfectly straight line. "Speaking of feathered creatures, I'm making chicken tonight and thinking of doing tacos. You up for that?"

"Sounds good." I replied. I was happy those pelicans had flown by, or else we might have been standing outside for hours in awkwardness.

"Well alright. Grab your stuff and let's go."

"I really appreciate you letting me stay here, mom."

"Don't mention it, shug. Although don't lull yourself into thinking this is a free ride. I've got a heap of stuff around the house that needs fixing. And I fully expect you to be opening jars and carrying shopping bags."

"Not a problem, ma'am." I said, tipping my cowboy hat to her. We both laughed and I gathered my bags and followed her inside, into the building's frosty air con and waiting elevator car.

Mom lived on the top floor in an immaculate apartment. It had shiny hardwood floors, freshly painted white walls decked out in family photos (though none w/dad) and local artwork featuring sand dunes, palm trees, and cacti. A 50 inch plasma screen TV hung on the wall of the living room in front of a big U-shaped leather couch, and to the right of the living room was a spacious walk-in kitchen with a big island in the middle and all sorts of high tech cooking gadgets and appliances. The place was just like my mom, first class.

"You know where everything is. Just make yourself at home." Mom cried out from the kitchen as I dragged my bags into the guest room.

I could be very at home here, I thought to myself. The house I'd shared with my ex was pretty decent, but nothing like this. Mom really had done well for herself. Looking out the guest room window, which had a spectacular view of the Gulf of Mexico, I saw swaying palm trees, seagulls swooping down into the water, and anglers hoisting reels. Being only late morning, the sun was still glittering and sparkling off the water, the way it only does early in the day. The water was calm, too, and tranquil, nary a wave. I really could get used to living here, I thought again.

Staring out at the Gulf, I started to feel calm and tranquil myself. The water to me was like a metaphor for life, sometimes it's wavy and stormy and sometimes it's peaceful, like now. Best to enjoy the times it's calm. I decided to make the most of my stay here and to enjoy it as much as possible and not beat myself up anymore over my recent misfortunes.

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Chapter 3 - I

After I unpacked my stuff, I came back out to the living room and noticed mom wasn't in the kitchen anymore. She'd left a note on the fridge saying she needed to run some errands and that dinner'd be at 7PM. I went out and spent the rest of the day driving around the Island and mozied up to Port Aransas, too, where I hung out on the beach, watching the waves pick up and crash to the shore.

As I sat on a bench overlooking the Gulf, vivid thoughts began criss-crossing through my mind, thoughts about my mom. Sexual thoughts. The first I'd had in quite a while. I just couldn't take my mind off how damn good she looked now. That bronze skin, her shapely figure, almost only a silhouette underneath her sundress, but still so visible, so sleek, so curvy in all the right ways. I envisioned myself under her, in her bed, her dress hiked up, her riding me reverse cowgirl as I choked at her hips and bucked my pelvis back at her.

The recurring visions I was having of her were so concurrently arousing and disturbing that I had to stop by a beachside bar and slam down a couple cold Coronas to cool myself down and put my mind at ease. I started to think that maybe coming down here wasn't such a good idea. Fortunately I ran into an old high school pal at the bar. We caught up on old times and watched the Astros game for a bit, which helped take my mind off things.

When I got back home, it was around 630PM and mom'd already finished dinner. She'd gone the taco route, and the tacos were flanked by tomato and pepper salad, nachos, and refried beans. She'd also opened a bottle of expensive Texas Merlot from a winery a cousin of ours runs.

"Howdy there, shug. Kick off your boots, wash up, and help me set the table." Mom yelled out from the kitchen, as I walked in through the front door.

"Sure thing." I replied. I felt uncomfortable seeing her after thinking about having sex with her all afternoon. So I went into the bathroom, slapped some cold water on my face, did my best to return my thoughts to baseball, and went back out there and had the table set up in seconds flat.

Dinner was delicious. As we ate we made small talk, but the conversation turned more serious when the subject of love and dating arose. Seems my mom hadn't dated at all since her divorce.

"It's just so hard to find a man at my age. Most are married or confirmed bachelors just looking for a quick one, or total jerks. I even joined an online dating service, which was a total disaster. You should have seen some of the responses I got there. What a bunch of creeps..."

"I think dating's hard at any age."

"No, trust me, the older you get, the harder it is. I remember back in high school, before your dad and I got together, there'd always be a handsome young stud waiting. Now they're all married or turned into beached whales."

The wine we'd been drinking had started to give me a nice buzz. I don't know what it is about wine. I can kill a sixer of cold ones and not feel much, but wine gets right to me. And soon I started talking and words just started flying out of my mouth.

"Mom, you're a beautiful woman. I've always thought so. I mean, hey, I'd date you."

Mom's facial expression turned from relaxed to noticeably uneasy.

"That's sweet of you to say, but..."

"Nah, I'm serious. Any guy would be lucky to have you. You're really sexy. And cool too..." I told my mom, in a dead serious tone, looking her intently in the eyes, unflinchingly. The drinks were definitely coursing through my veins now, and my cock started to harden a bit. I reached my hand across the table and cupped it over hers.