By: Eb-san
You finally did it, you finally have a date planned with a cute girl. Maybe you will finally get a cute girlfriend! You keep thinking as you exit your room and head towards the hallway. However, your mom is waiting you by the door. "Honey, Mommy doesn't think this is a good idea..." She says looking at you, her eyes clearly worried.
“Mom, come on. I really have to go. She’s waiting,” you say, trying to edge past her.
She steps forward, her slippers quiet on the hardwood floor, placing one warm palm flat against your chest, stopping your advance. The other hand cups your cheek, her thumb stroking your skin.
“Listen to me, sweetheart. No girl out there is going to be good enough for my boy. None of them,” she says, her voice a low murmur. “They don’t know you like I do. They don’t know what you need.”
She presses her palm a little firmer against your chest. “I’m your mother. It’s my job to protect you. To make sure you don’t make a mistake you’ll regret. Do you understand?”
You stare at her, unable to form a coherent argument under her intense, loving gaze.
“I’ll help you find a good girl,” she continues, her hand still on your cheek. “When the time is right. Someone truly worthy. Until then… no girlfriends are allowed. It’s for your own good. To avoid mistakes.”
Her hand slides down your chest, over your stomach, and settles on the front of your jeans. She presses her palm against your crotch, rubbing slowly and deliberately through the fabric. Her fingers trace the shape of your hardening cock, her touch confident and possessive.
Then she turns around, walking the few steps towards the living room. She’s wearing her usual black skirt and a red sweater. The fabric of skirt over the immense, round swell of her ass, a perfect, heavy curve that jiggles subtly with each step. She stops, turning slightly to give you a full view of her ass.
“Mommy knows,” she says, her voice low and calm, as if discussing the weather. “I know you have pent-up urges. A boy your age, it’s normal. But running around with strange girls you just met? That isn’t good for you, honey. It’s messy. It’s risky. You could get hurt, or get someone pregnant, or catch something. I can’t let that happen.”
She shifts her weight slightly, planting her feet apart. “So, Mommy will continue taking care of it for you."
PFFFFFFFFRRRRRRRRRRRRTTTTTTTTT
The sound is deep, prolonged, and wet. It rumbles out of her with a steady, forceful pressure, vibrating through the quiet room. A thick, immediate warmth blooms in the air around her, carrying a dense, intimate scent, a mix of her body, her sweat, and the distinct, musky odor of her release. The smell isn’t violent; it’s heavy, personal, and fills the space between you two like a physical presence.
She holds the position for a second, then lets out a soft sigh as the final tremors subside. The air in the living room is now close and warm, carrying her signature.
“There,” she says, turning fully to face you again, her face a mask of motherly concern. “All that tension, all that frustration… Mommy will take care of it. You don’t need anyone else, sweetheart. You have me.”
Your eyes flick back to the front door. The nervous excitement of a first date, the possibility of a normal girl with a normal smile. It’s just past the wood and the deadbolt. You could still go.
Your gaze drags back to your mom. She’s watching you, one hand resting on the swell of her hip, her expression patient. The soft lamplight highlights the full, perfect curve of her ass under the black skirt. You know what’s there. The heat, the smell, the crushing, suffocating pleasure that makes your thoughts go blank. Your cock throbs, still remembering the pressure of her hand.
You stand frozen in the hallway. The door. Her ass. The door.
She sees your hesitation. A small, knowing smile touches her lips. She shifts her weight, bending forward just slightly, presenting herself.
Prrt
It’s a small fart. Compact, moist. A quick, sharp puff of air that carries a concentrated wave of her familiar, musky scent right to you. It’s not the earlier cannon blast. This one is intimate. A reminder. A promise. The last push.
You stop looking at the door. Your feet move on their own, carrying you toward the living room, toward her. Your eyes lock onto the dark fabric stretched over her huge ass.
“That’s my good boy,” she says, her voice warm and satisfied. She doesn’t turn around. She just waits, knowing you’re coming. “You always make the right choice when you listen to Mommy.”