Read Story: SEASON 1 EPISODE 8

A primal panic filled me. I ripped my cock out of my sister's pussy. Mom's keys fumbled with the lock. She would be in the house in moments. We had to do something? I looked at our clothing lying on the floor, my sister gasping, her blue eyes wide.

“Clothes!” I bent down, scooping up as much of hers and mine I could. “Then...bathroom.”

There was a first floor bathroom down the short hallway from the living room to the kitchen. The front door opened. My sister and I, holding bundled clothing, fled, our hearts racing. My shoulders tensed, waiting for our mom to scream out at the sight of our naked forms fleeing the living room.

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Dr. Bernice Wilson

I couldn't get the image of Cheryl Elliston being fucked by her twenty-year-old son out of my head. After my exam of the pregnant woman, it gnawed at me. She told me she had a one-night stand while on vacation in Cancun, but her body wasn't tan at all. And Clint had knocked up both his cousins. I knew Cheryl and her sister Vicky were close, their children growing up together. And if Clint was fucking his first cousins, who else was he fucking?

Even stranger, Cheryl was...excited to be having a baby at her age from a stranger.

What if it was Clint's?

It was so illegal. So wrong. And yet...it had my pussy tingling. It had me thinking of my own son, James. He had grown into a handsome, young man. He was athletic, with the same boyish handsome face his father had that had me swooning in my younger years. And those blue eyes...

It had me so out of sorts. I couldn't focus at work. And since I had no afternoon appointments at my clinic, I decided to head home early instead of working on paperwork like normal. I needed to think, reflect, figure out what to do about Cheryl.

Should I confront her? Should I call the police?

I bit my lip. Why did it make me so excited picturing Clint and his mother together. I imagined the young buck mounting his busty mother. Cheryl was still gorgeous with her dyed-blonde hair and skinny body. She worked out and ate right.

Fuck Mommy, Cheryl moaned in my imagination. Mommy's been so lonely since your dad left me.

I blinked at that, Clint shifting into James in my thoughts. Cheryl's husband didn't leave her. Hers had died. And I had been so lonely since Doug abandoned us for that twenty-two-year-old tart who worked at his office.

I shook my head. I couldn't be thinking those sort of thoughts. James was my son. My flesh and blood. I spent ten hours delivering him into the world. I carried him inside me for nine months. I couldn't have sex with him. Couldn't let him slide back into my body.

I trembled as I walked up to my house's front door, my mind whirling. It twisted my stomach even as my pussy grew so hot. It was wrong. I kept telling myself it was wrong. I would be a horrible monster if I seduced my nineteen-year-old son. I needed to get laid. I needed to find a young stud, someone in his twenties, and just get fucked.

Have a one-night stand and get my horniness out of my system.

My hands fumbled at my keys. Having a one-night stand sounded like so much work. Especially when I had James in sleeping down the...

“No,” I hissed at myself as I struggled to jam the key into the lock. It scraped across the metal before popping in. I twisted it, looking down, lost in my thoughts as I pushed open the door. I stepped into my house, shaking my head, my deviant thoughts assaulting me from—

Bang!

I blinked at the door being shut hard somewhere in the house. I looked around the living room. “Jenny? James? How many times do I have to tell you not to slam the doors?”

I moved into the house. There was a musty smell that reminded me of...pussy juices. I smelled that enough at work. I shook my head. It couldn't be that. I passed into the living room and groaned, spotting a wet spot on my couch.

“They need to wipe up their messes,” I muttered.

The downstairs shower hissed on. I frowned at that. No one used the downstairs shower. I walked down the hallway to the bathroom door, water splashing. The exhaust fan hummed to life. I knocked on the door.

“Mom?” Jenny squeaked.

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