Table of Contents

Title Page

Copyright Page

INTRODUCTION

Slut Mother

TWO

THREE

FOUR

Blacked Mother

TWO

THREE

Horny Mother

TWO

THREE

FOUR

Horny Mother II

TWO

THREE

FOUR

FIVE

INTRODUCTION

This is a one-off bundle of stories I had written prior. I no longer write in this niche, but still produce Mother & Son stories on Zbookstore.

Slut Mother

Broken moans taunted me from upstairs. There had been three nights like this every Friday, each around the same time. From what I could tell, it was the one moment they’d both had spare time.

I didn’t blame them.

They were people with needs...

What I did blame was the noise they made; the loud hollering, the mindless grunts and groans, the countless times Mom called out to him and begged him to fuck her. It was hard to stomach, but what was harder was the urge it built inside me, an urge that broke me and consumed me. I’d tried to fight it, but my cock was harder than it had ever been, and that fact terrified me.

I put on my jeans and went to the bathroom. I splashed water on my face, trying to distract myself from the taunting of my mother’s moans.

“Yes! Fuck me! Fuck me!” She cried out.

There was a twisted part of me that could see it vividly. The part of me that acknowledged my mother’s heavy breasts and thick curves, her tight waist that led into her plump ass, and her soft, pink lips.

I hated that I looked at her that way. It felt weird and disgusting, but it was a part of me now.

I reached out to the towel rack. I grabbed one, wiping my face with the soft cotton. I felt a weird salty flavour against my lips. I spat out it out immediately, realising what it was. I cupped water in my hand and gargled my mouth. I looked down and found white dried streaks of cum coating the red towel. I threw the towel on the ground, and stormed out of the bathroom.

Her behaviour had taken over every part of the home.

I couldn’t enjoy myself sexually without the thought of them fucking, the fact she didn’t care about her own son, the fact my mother was a slut, one that loved black men. All of those things festered in me. A mix of anger and rage and sexual frustration.

I had to get away.

Somewhere far.

I marched down the steps towards the front door. The moaning had stopped. If I knew them well, they’d take a break and start back up in a few minutes.

I wasn’t going to stay to find out.

They’d made a habit of being in the living room where I was heading. The only way out was to pass them. I hesitated slightly, wondering if I’d be better to just wait it out and not risk seeing them.

I’d always heard it, but I’d never seen it.

I preferred it that way, as any normal person would...

I took a deep exhale and marched forward through the corridor. I crept down the stairs and passed the door. A dangerous curiosity took me, and I turned my head, glimpsing at my mother on her knees between her black lover’s legs, his dark hands against her golden locs, as she bobbed against hm, while he relished it and sat back against the sofa.

It stopped me in my path, and for a moment I forgot what I was trying to do.

She tugged and pulled at his cock with her mouth. She stuck her plump ass out, moaning around his girth, as the sounds of her slurping filled the room.

He looked to me, and our eyes met. He smirked, forcing my mother’s head down, taunting and teasing me with her mouth, choking and gagging her as he held her there.

I wanted to fight him so bad. I wanted to run over there and punch him in the face. I wanted to separate them and return to the image of her I had in my mind, the quiet mother who raised me, the mother who loved me and took care of me, the mother who wasn’t a cock sucking slut in her own home.

But that was only part of the truth...

The other part of me wanted to join her. to eat her out and savour her taste against my tongue, to find some common ground with my mother, and let her know her son was still here, ready and waiting, hoping that she could give him the attention no matter the task.

If she could be a slut, then I could too.

It could be something that tied us.

That bonded us.

But instead, I was here; desperate and alone, losing the only family I had left to a black man in our living room.

I turned to open the door.

“Wait!” He roared.

My mother turned back to look at me, surprise on her face, as her wet mess dripped from her lips. She looked at me with a stranger’s glare. I was interrupting, that’s all that mattered to her.

“Come here!” He yelled, still stroking my mother’s hair, twisting and wrapping it in his hand.

I don’t know why, but I followed his orders. His voice was deep, and frankly he scared me. It was his dark muscular frame, and the way he held my mother with ease, moving her head with each movement of his hand. I’d found an addiction to interracial porn since this started, and I knew the things they could do to women.

That’s what made me listen.

He reached up and raised out his hand. “The name’s Tristan.”

I took it and shook it, feeling the stark contrast in strength.

“What’s your name?” He continued.

“His name’s Liam.” My mother said, through spit covered lips.

I looked down, noticing her touch, the way her delicate white fingers contrasting his thick black girth, the way she pressed her body into him, too scared to let go even for a second. She was completely removed from the situation, not even caring that her son was here as she continued holding his shaft.

Tristan raised his hand. “Did I fucking ask you, slut?”

She cowered against him, and I felt a ball of rage fill me. My eyes began to water at the realisation I couldn’t win against someone like him.

Tristan smiled. “And what’s your name?” He asked again.

“Liam.” I mumbled, trying to fight back tears as I caught quick glimpses of my submissive mother.

He wrapped his hand in her hair and grabbed her tight. He pushed her face in between his thighs, holding her there as she struggled against him. “You’re gonna have to speak up.” He said, taunting me with my own mother.

“Liam!” I yelled.

He let her go. She returned a look of pure admiration towards him. This man who threatened slapped her in front of her own son. Who fucked her throat with no regard for her at all. She looked at him with stars in her eyes, as if he’d shown her the world...

“Where are you going at this time?” He said.

“I- I was going to go out.”

He furrowed his brow. “It’s ten o’clock, you know that right?”

“I don’t know why that’s any of your bus-“ His grip grew stronger against my mother’s hair. “I just wanted some fresh air.”

He released her and patted next to him on the sofa. “Take a seat.”

I did as he said, stepping over my mother’s naked body and sitting down on the sofa beside him. She looked at me, a lustful haze in her eyes, as mascara ran down her cheeks and met her smeared lipstick.

“Your mother tells me, your father left a few years ago?”

I nodded.

“Don’t worry,” I noticed his cock twitch. “I’ll step up, make sure your mother’s taken care of.” He patted his thick girth against her wet lips, then looked down at her. “Ain’t that right, slut?”

She leaned down and smeared his cock against her, wiping the mess she’d made onto her face. She moaned out her approval, as a thick coating of saliva covered her soft smile.

I didn’t know what to do. I sat there, terrified and anxious and aroused, unsure of how to respond, as she took his head between her lips and gagged on it, as she took it deep, as she relished his purple head, him thrusting his hips into her mouth.

I felt my cock rise, and I leaned back to not make it obvious.

Tristan let out a powerful grunt, and she recoiled back. She opened her mouth wide, presenting her pink tongue, as ropes of cum shot out from his thick head and stained her pretty face. It coated her lips, her tongue, her hair. It dribbled down and into her throat, wildly painting her mouth in its slimy goo.

What had he done?

How had he turned her into this?

I sat there mouth opened, mimicking her without realising. The thoughts plagued my mind, almost as if they were taunting me, letting me know how useless I was, unable to break my mother from whatever spell this mad man had put on her.

She took his length back in her mouth and slurped up the remains from her slit. She curled her finger against her face, moving every bit of semen closer to her lips, scooping and tasting whatever she could get her hands on as she panted like a bitch in heat for her man.

Tristan turned to me. “Now you can go out for your walk.” He cleaned off his dirty cock against my mother’s face. “Be back in an hour.”

I nodded.

I was a coward...

TWO

A weird sensation woke me in the middle of the night. It tugged and pulled at my cock, soft and wet and warm. I couldn’t see who it was, my vision still blurry, the room still dark. I tried to struggle back but I felt a hand grab at my legs and keep me still.

“Be a good boy for mommy.” My mother’s voice spoke out, gasping as she did.

I felt the whole world fall from underneath me. The weight of it a distance horror. This was a dream; it must have been a dream. I felt the wetness of her lips strangle my head and suck me in. The broken rhythm of her weight pushed down against my crotch, and in a desperate flurry the pleasure shot up, through me and out of my cock.