Hot Asian Mom: Loving Moms 2 Read online

  “I also have a secret to share,” she breathed into his ear. “I want to fuck you,” her open mouth was on his. He let her tongue into his mouth. Her naked body pressed against him. His heart was racing and he could feel her heart beating heavily but at a much slower rate. She broke the kiss and smiled into his eyes.

  “Did you like that? Yes?”

  “Yes,” he panted. “It was great.”

  “Do you like my body?”

  “I love your body.”

  “Yes, I can tell by your cock. Do you want more?”

  His wildest dreams were coming true. All he could do was nod and try not to drool.

  “Alright, the first thing I’m going to to is to teach you how to relax.” She took his hand and put it on her heavenly left breast. He squeezed it. It felt sooo good. “Do you feel my breathing?”

  “Yes.”

  “Now try to match yours with mine… there you go. Good. Now we’re going to dry off and go into my room.”

  In her room Midori poured him a little saki.

  “This will also help you relax.”

  He took a sip and made a Mr. Yuck face.

  “Ha Ha. Americans always react that way to their first taste. But you’ll learn to like it.”

  She took him in her arms and they kissed for a long time, enjoying the soft wet warmth of each others taste. Then she had him lay back on her futon. She straddled his pelvis and then lowered her sweet pussy down onto his throbbing cock. “Ohh, she moaned, your the perfect size,” smiling with delight and she bounced and rode him like a bronco.

  “Oh, God,” he couldn’t believe he was fucking his host mom and it was soo good. “Ahh, I’m coming. Ohh, fuck yeah.”

  “Ah ah ah ah ah,” she kept riding him hard. He was so huge. So good. Her legs spasmed, wobbled. “Ahhhh, fuck.” She collapsed on top of him, panting. Sweating. “Mmmm.” She peppered his face with kisses. “Hey, can I ask you something?”

  “Anything.”

  “were you a virgin before tonight?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, Mr. Ex-virgin. I say we go sit in that hot tub and you tell me how it feels.”

  “And hopefully you’ll teach me some more lessons.”

  “Now you’re thinking right.”

  Chapter 4

  Thank you for reading my dirty fantasy. Here are more filthy good reads:

  Having My Daughter's Boyfriend

  “Mom, You’ve got to get out. Do stuff. Meet new people,” my daughter, Mariah, had been telling me ever since the divorce.

  Well, I finally agreed. Enough sitting around the house, moping, watching TV, gorging myself on chocolates and dreaming of hulks to come knocking on my door. True, I did have my realty business - Kate Lincoln Realty. But, let’s face it, selling houses doesn’t get you laid. Just tired. So, I enrolled in an art class at the local college. The same one Mariah goes to, only she’s studying journalism.

  “College is where I met Andre,” she said, speaking of her new boyfriend.

  “Tell me about this new boyfriend of yours. Is he someone I’d approve of?”

  “Oh, mom, you’re so old fashioned.”

  “Well, when am I going to meet him?”

  “As a matter of fact, I’ve invited Andre over tonight. Actually, he insisted upon meeting you. He said he thought it proper to get your ‘okay’ before diving into a relationship with me.”

  “Sounds like Andre is more old fashioned than I am, sweetie.”

  “Well, his parents came from a small village in France. Maybe that’s why.”

  “Oh, how interesting. Can’t wait to meet him. Listen, I got to run. Late for art class. Love you,” heading out the door.

  “Love ya, mom.”

  The art class started at eight. I rush into the small room about ten minutes late. There are about half a dozen other students - all college-age guys and girls. I tried to dress to look younger but just ended up looking like the mom of Velma from Scooby Do. Knee socks, pleated skirt, turtle-neck sweater, glasses, short dark hair. Everyone else in the room is casually dressed in jeans and sporty shirts. They’re all sitting in a semi-circle around the model. Busy sketching. They barely notice my entrance but I still feel self-conscious. At least the skirt hides my curvy hips.

  Today we’re doing nude sketches of a live subject. There’s one empty chair left - straight on center in front of the model. This heightens my self-consciousness but I have no choice. I take the chair, prop up my sketch pad on the easel and dig out my pencils. I fidget and drop the pencils. It’s only after I get settled and start to draw that I notice the model.

  It’s been over a year since I’ve even seen a naked man. That was Charles, before he left me for his secretary. Ugh, I push the painful memories from my mind.

  I’m ready to sketch.

  The model is a mere five feet away. Until now he’s been but a vague blurry shadow image stalking my peripheral vision. All I’ve been aware of is the slightly oiled sheen of his muscular contours. He’s doing a damn good job of impersonating Michelangelo’s David.

  Finally, I look up directly at him… into the face of the most gorgeous penis I’ve ever laid eyes on.

  Stepmom Vacation

  “Goodness gracious me, Jesse, you look like you’re about to have a heart attack. Give me those bags. Come, sit on the sofa and put your feet up. I’ll get you a cold glass of lemonade.”

  Jesse Christianson had just gotten home on summer break from college. His problem was his girlfriend, Allison Mills, had just dropped the bomb that she no longer wanted to see him.

  “Our relationship has gotten stale,” she’d told him this morning in bed just as he’d rolled over onto her, wanting her sweet sugar. She closed her legs and rolled him back over to his side of the bed.

  “What? Sweetie, Don’t you feel well?”

  “God’s sake, Jess, open your eyes. How long has it been since you’ve given me an orgasm? You’re a great lover but you just don’t turn me on any more.”

  He tried to rationalize this sudden bombshell but her mind was made up. They had no future together. It was best if he just packed his things and moved out. He couldn’t bear the thought of her spending the summer hanging out on Old Orchard Beach, bate for all the other horny college guys. So, he retreated home to Scarborough to his dad, Jack, and stepmom, Kate.

  “Here you are, honey,” Kate said, handing him the ice-cold glass of lemonade and sitting down beside him. His stepmom, had seductive shoulder length blonde hair and a great athletic figure for a forty-year-old. Having just returned from her morning yoga class, she was still in her tight yoga pants and tank that showed exactly how well endowed her motherly figure was. Kate defined the term MILF. But Mom-I’d-Like-to-Fuck was a foreign concept to Jesse. He had Allison-on-the-mind and the hole she’d left in his heart was eating him alive.

  “Thanks, mom,” taking a refreshing sip. The lemonade did wonders for his parched throat. “I needed that.”

  “Good,” patting his jean clad leg. “I hate to see you like this, sweetie, tell what’s wrong.” She looked into his eyes with a steady comforting gaze that said, “Tell me all your troubles. Let them dissolve into my loving care.”

  “It’s Allison, mom,” his voice shaking. He set the glass of lemonade on the coffee table, afraid of spilling it on the new beige sofa. “She’s dumped me,” the words barely coming out in a whisper. He raised his hand to cover his tears.

  “Oh, sweet baby.”

  Kate put her tanned arm around him, kissed his forehead, brought his head over to rest upon her bosom and stroked his blond hair.

  Jesse’s biological mother had died in an auto accident when he was only ten. A couple years later Jack met and married Kate. With his dad putting in long hours to make his construction company prosper, it fell to Kate to help Jessie through the difficult years of puberty and the “girl-problem” years of high school. Thus she came to know her son well and could now offer him comfort in his current emotional crisis.

 
“Let’s talk about it, dear, and it’ll help you feel better. And you know I don’t like beating around the bush so let’s get to the heart of the matter. How has your sexual relationship been with her?”

  “I just can’t figure her out, mom. We’ve been doing it every day. It’s been great. But this morning she says she hasn’t had an orgasm for weeks.” Jesse opened his teary eyes. His stepmom’s ample cleavage filled his field of view. Her supple skin was streaked with the tracks of his tears. They had run down and soaked the top of her white tank rendering their fabric nearly transparent over the ripple of her large aureoles and erect nipples. Until then he hadn’t been aware that she wore no bra. He felt a slight tingle at the tip of his penis. The awareness of which made him feel a little embarrassed and self-conscious. No way did he want to pop a boner while resting his head on his mom’s breasts.

  PEG!

  “These are hard times,” candidate Johnson Blunt (code-name Iron Balls) shouts out at the crowd of rabid supporters. “We gotta take the world by the balls! This country’s gotta get back to being the tough bastard she once was! She’s gotta get back her respect! As your leader I’ll put her back on top!”

  Deafening applause.

  BLUNT! BLUNT! BLUNT!

  That arrogant shit’s in need of a good ramming. You’re mine big boy. I’m gonna stick it to the most powerful man on earth. That’s why I took this job. I’m gonna fuck Johnson Tiberius Blunt. The most powerful man in the world. Bank on it. Ms. Peg Masters is gonna ride you, Mr. Blunt. Gonna ride you like the great national wet dream. As a member of your personal security squad, it’s my duty to protect your ass at all times, Mr. Blunt. I’m gonna be on your ass so tight you’re gonna nominate me as your ramming mate.

  We’re at a rally somewhere in the Midwest. I don’t know which state. We’re just moving too fast. We’re at some outdoor arena. Could be a state fair show ground. Some kind of livestock arena. But it looks like ten thousand people standing out there. Crowding the stage. That’s where I am. No more than five feet behind Blunt. He’s walking the stage. Cordless mic in hand. Working the crowd. The entire security team is on a heightened sense of alert because of the recent terrorist strike in Brussels.

  “This nation needs to get Blunt!” He shouts.

  Mad applause.

  “What do you think of Connie Chilton’s stance on terrorism?” Someone from the crowd shouts, referring to Blunt’s Democrat opponent.

  “I’m sure Connie can make a mean apple pie. But, I’m sorry, she just doesn’t have the balls to keep this country safe.”

  Mad applause.

  What a fricking dink. I’m really going to stick it to him.

  DOWN WITH BLUNT!

  A loud anti-Blunt demonstration is raging outside the show grounds fence.

  DUMP BLUNT! PUNT BLUNT!

  As a member of Iron Balls’ personal security team I’m alert to every movement he makes. My peripheral vision takes in the slightest motion from anything within spitting range.

  I haven’t laid my girlfriend, Lizzi, in a couple weeks. That’s how long we’ve been on the road. The intensity of all this campaigning’s really got me horny. Horny intense.

  Bet you’re wondering how a woman gets to work security for a top political candidate. Connections. Dad was Secret Service. Growing up, he taught me all the tricks of personal security. Stealth shadowing. Total vigilance. Complete awareness of your environment. Subduing combatants. We used to play bodyguard at rock concerts when I was in high school. I’d protect him. We’d be in the crowd. I’d see someone accidentally make a sudden move toward dad. Poor shit who made the move would suddenly find himself on the hardwood gym floor sporting a sprained ankle.

  Getting back to Iron Balls, he’s got four people on his personal security detachment. There was one opening left when I applied and I had to fight for it. Me and this guy interviewed for it together. We’re both in the campaign manager’s office. Standing side by side in front of his desk.

  “Ms. Masters,” the manager asks me. “How bad do you want this job? What makes you qualified to protect the future leader of the free world?”

  Without saying a word, I swiftly stretch my right arm out behind my competition, grab his collar, and slam his face down on the manager’s desk. Poor guy crumples to the floor holding his face, groaning.

  “When can you start?” the manager says, staring wide eyed.

  See, to maintain my competitive edge, I belong to an all girls erotic wrestling league. Three rounds per match. First two rounds we get down and dirty flopping around on the mat like landed fish. Points are awarded for displayed acts of domination. Stripping off the other girl’s bikini. Titty groping. Nipple biting. Pussy whipping. Winner gets to free-for-all fuck the opponent in the final round. This all happens in front of a crowd of some fifty drooling perverts. I’m reigning champ. It pays the bills.

  I pump iron. Teach Tae Kwon Do. Fitness train for Iron Woman competition.

  But that’s all been put on hold till after the campaign.

  Right now, Iron Balls owns my ass 24/7.

  Like I said, I haven’t lain with my girl, Lizzi, in weeks. We do phone sex. Right now I’m so fucking horny.

  SHIT!

  A glint of gray gun metal flashes in my peripheral vision.

  Blunt is directly in front of me working up the crowd.

  Pure muscle reflex has me leaping at Iron Balls. He’s not much bigger than me. He’s five-ten. One-sixty. I’m five-seven. One-fifty. I slam the full force of my weight into his back. Entwine my left foot around his left calf. He falls face down on the stage. My steel-cable thighs straddle his legs.

  Three gunshots ring through the air in rapid succession.

  Screams.

  Pandemonium.

  People running.

  Iron Balls is stretched out prone. Wind knocked out of him. I’m sprawled out on his back. Putting my body between him and the gunman. Just like I’ve been trained. I double arm-bar him to keep him from trying to get up before it’s safe. He struggles. I grind my pelvis into his buttocks. I control him.

  The first time I saw my stepbrother pee it was by accident. It was at grandpa and grandma’s cottage on Pleasant Lake, at the family reunion last June. A ton of relatives were there so, I guess the bathroom was kind of busy. I was helping out in the kitchen - cleaning off the plates just after a huge lunch, scraping the scraps into the trash can. After I finished, the can was darn near spilling over. So, I decided to run the bag out to the garbage cans way out back behind the garage.

  The back yard was big and some of my relatives had a game of touch football going. The garage sat way beyond where they played - along the remote dirt road that winds past the property. Turning the corner of the garage, walking behind it, out of view from everyone, I was about to drop the bag into one of the cans when I stopped… and slowly and quietly set the bag on the ground. I had heard a sound like that of rushing water coming from around the next corner. Was it a garden hose or something?

  The side of the garage from which the sound came was concealed from the back yard by shrubs and brush. Was someone back there? I walked closer but then stopped when I saw the arc of a golden stream of pee. I calmed my breathing so as not to give myself away. Only the pee was visible to me at that point. I had to see who it was. I crept silently along the side of the garage - inching closer to the corner. Who ever it was, his penis came into view. It was long and thick and gorgeous. Pee was shooting out of its wide head with great force. He must have been holding it for hours.

  My pussy, for some unexplainable reason, started tingling. I reached down and pressed my fingers into my crotch. It started getting warm down there. I had to take a chance at being discovered. I had to know who this mystery peeing man was. With my head at the very corner, I silently inched out one eye. OMG, it was Carl, my stepbrother. He did not see me because of his intense concentration on his peeing. Seeing that only heightened my excitement. His cock was poking through the zipper of his jeans. He held it l
oosely in his right hand.

  A strange desire came over me? What would it be like to taste Carl’s pee? I imagined myself kneeling before him as he peed into my open mouth. The thought made me blush and feel warm all over. My panties started getting wet.

  Carl finally finished, put his cock back into his jeans, zipped up, turned and rejoined the football game. He never knew I’d seen him.

  I returned to the house - fielding questions from my cousins about what took me so long. “Got roped into a game,” I lied.

  That was three months ago. I’m back at college, now. I’ve fantasized about the incident almost every day. I can’t explain how my new pee fetish developed. I just like to lie in bed late at night, get out my vibrator and fantasize about Carl and his big beautiful cock peeing all over me.

  Carl and I go to the same college. He’s a senior and I’m a sophomore. We both live at home to save money. No matter how much I’ve desired it, though, I haven’t been able to see him pee since that day at the family reunion.

  It’s the first day of class of the fall semester and I’m in the bathroom applying my face.

  Knock on the bathroom door, it’s Carl, “Heather, will you be long? I have to go really bad.”

  Can’t believe my luck. This is the golden opportunity I’ve been waiting for. Have to play this right, though. Don’t want him to think I’m some kind of freak.

  “Come in, Carl. I’m almost done,” leaning over the sink, applying mascara. Through the mirror I see him rush in behind me. He’s got on a t-shirt and athletic shorts. Hair is a mess - evidently, just got up.