Relative Heat: Mothers and Sons - Victoria Blackstone - ebook

DESCRIPTIONMother's love their sons, some more than others. This collection of eight erotic short stories explore the lengths some horny mothers are willing to go to please their sons; willing to take their own under their collective wings and help them fly. Some mothers just can't wait to get started.EXCERPTIn the silence, I envisioned him staring at my panties. I was wet enough that, by now, they’d have absorbed at least some of my lubricant. Likely, though, they were soaked. Likely, they’d become transparent. Likely, he was staring at my inner lips, which have been playing peek-a-boo since I hit puberty. As subtly as I could, I squeezed my thighs together, which only made me shiver.“Cold?”I shook my head, ignoring the amusement in his voice. “Have I worn your poor fingers out yet?”“Hardly.”I drew a breath, ready to ask him to do my back, when he took hold of my foot. I moaned, my toes curling, when he pushed his thumb into my arch.As I reveled in his touch, my agile mind supplied me with the image of him straddling my thighs while he worked on my back. The image quickly transformed into him squeezing my ass, over and over, working his thumbs into the tender skin adjacent to my swollen vulva, pushing and pulling, driving me crazy. And then he was settling over me, his chest to my back, his thick cock laying in the valley between my cheeks, his heavy balls—“Would you like me to do your back?”“Anywhere you like, just... don’t ever stop.”He laughed softly. “Somebody’s had a bit too much catnip.”

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by Victoria Blackstone

Eight Short Stories of Familial Entanglement

Published by Lot’s Cave

Mothers and Sons

Relative Heat, © 2017, by Victoria Blackstone

All Rights Reserved

Cover by Morgaine Wrightman

All Characters In This Book Are Age 18 Or Older

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only and may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this ebook with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this ebook and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to the Lot’s Cave website and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either a product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual people living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

A Lot’s Cave Novel


Story 1

Story 2

Story 3

Story 4

Story 5

Story 6

Story 7

Story 8


Author’s Note

Family Exotica

Incest Erotica

Other Novels

Story 1

A Mother’s Need

At six-one and a shade over two hundred pounds, he towers over me. But then, most people do. Curled up in my recliner, though, I was pretty much eye-level with the thick bulge in his briefs. He was otherwise naked, fresh from the shower, and warm enough that I could feel the heat radiating off of him. My heart pounding in my chest, I reached out a finger and used it to follow the length of his cock, from just below the thick, barbed dome, down to the base of him... all nine inches of him.

I think he wears briefs to torture me. I mean, fully hard, the monster they’re tasked with containing peeks out over the waistband! And, when I say peeks out, I mean the entire knob! He really is a big boy!

“Morning, sweetheart,” I said, my voice sounding unsteady even to my own ears.

He reached out to push my hair over my ear. “Morning, buttercup.”

I laughed, if somewhat nervously, for, a boy doesn’t address his mother with such endearments. This is no boy, though; he’s every bit a man. The problem, of course, is that I fear he’s starting to see himself as my man.

All on their own, my eyes drifted back to the thick tube of meat. It was beginning to move, to harden. Unable to resist the pull, I reached out again. This time, I drew the side of my finger up the length of him. “Father catches you...” I left the thought for him to ponder.

His father is two things: big and mean.

“Take it out,” he purred, ignoring my implied threat.


He cupped my chin and tilted my head back, then drew a thumb over my lip. “Take it out,” he said, his voice softer, honey-like.

I held his gaze until the connection got to be too much, then lowered it to watch as my fingers, shaking with nerves, gripped his waistband. I used one hand to hold him back. The other I used to draw the elastic away from his belly, exposing first his dark tangle of hair, and then the silky shaft. Semi-hard, he was curving to the side, but as I drew the material down, he tumbled out, leaving him to hang heavy. Subconsciously, I licked my lips.

He laughed softly, but when I looked up at him, his smile faded. “Such pretty eyes,” he whispered.

I’ve heard the compliment before, many times, actually. I doubt I’ll ever tire of hearing it. As inappropriate as it was, though, I smiled, but it faded as I wrapped my hand around him and squeezed, gently, making his eyelids droop. It’s unbelievably thrilling, the power a woman has over a man. With nothing but a look or a softly-spoken phrase or a light touch she can have anything her heart desires. Indeed, a man will move mountains for a woman, if only she knows how to ask.

But the converse is also true: a woman will do things she ought not do, given the proper motivation. In his case, he sparked my interest, at first, anyway, by having the nerve to ask for something a son has no business asking for. It doesn’t hurt that his gentle approach speaks to the respect he has for me, both as his mother and as a lady. Yes, even when he’s got his fingers tangled in my hair, he still seems to somehow convey his love for me. Just now, for instance, he was drawing the backs of his fingers over my cheek.

I rewarded him by stroking him, slowly, my gaze locked with his, and I continued to hold his gaze until long after he’d thickened to full hardness.

Soft, I can just get my hand around him. Semi-hard, not so much. Fully hard, though, my fingertips are a good inch apart, and with both hands wrapped around him, there’s still a good inch of shaft left uncovered.

He moaned softly when I tightened my grip, while pulling my hand down to the base of him.

The first couple times I jacked him off, I’d done so into the bath towel he’d appeared in. The last dozen or so times, though, honoring my request, he’d brought with him a handful of toilet paper. Today, though... “Where, exactly, do you think you’re going to...”

That cute, boyish smile, the one he knows melts my heart, began to form, and I fought my own smile. He shrugged, his gaze dropping to my chest.

Oh, how my stomach fluttered, and though I shook my head, I continued to stroke him, debating, weighing the consequences of allowing him to push the envelope. What we were doing—me masturbating him—was already well into the realm of the taboo. Allowing him to squirt his seed on me was on a whole other level of naughty, one that made my skin tingle, and though I shook my head, I made no effort to stop him when he reached for the top button of my blouse. I exhaled when he reached for the next, my stomach turning with nervous tension.

His father wasn’t home. Worse, I wasn’t sure when he was due. Worse still, we were in the front room. The only reason I didn’t stop him, when he reached for the third button, was because I was confident we’d hear his father’s truck; it has a distinctive rumble.

The fourth button, the one just below my breasts, exposed my chest, as well as my bra, once he pulled my blouse aside. I held my breath when, his gaze on mine, he slipped a finger into the valley between my breasts. I shook my head when he tugged on my bra. “No, sweetheart.”

“I want to see you.”

“Boundaries, baby.” The irony was that I had him in my grip, and I had exactly zero interest in letting him go, at least not until I finished him off.

He released a low moan when I ran my thumb up the underside of his shaft, teasing the bundle of nerves there. He withdrew his hand, making my skin tingle as he dragged the backs of his fingers over my breast. His hand settled on my shoulder, but his fingers wouldn’t stop moving; he gripped me then released me, over and over again, reminding me of his need. His need wasn’t what had me worried, though; it was what he wanted that haunted my thoughts, as I continued to stoke him. What he wants is the same thing I want, and that terrifies me.

He moaned, interrupting my thoughts, when I took hold of his balls, but it took only a few moments for me to find my place, and to admit—consciously, for the first time—that his ultimate goal is to get this monster into me. I shivered, a strong jolt going through me, as the mental image formed, of him pushing past the tight ring of my cervix and up into my womb.

This latest iteration of my favorite fantasy had me feeling more than a bit unsettled, and still I stroked him, drawing him closer, both to me and to his orgasm.

He has a natural upward curve, which, combined with his height, meant that I would have to angle him down, when the time came; that, or he’d be shooting in my face, and that I would not tolerate. I am, first and foremost, a lady, and a lady has balance. Indeed, a true lady is a master of balance. She relies on tactful teasing to entice and to please a man.

It’s an easy thing, to spread your legs for a man; that is, after all, why some woman get labeled as easy. And though a lady still spreads her legs, she does so with some reserve. There really is something to be said about the thrill of the chase. And though I had no intention of letting on that I was aware, I was under no delusions that my son wasn’t chasing me. My job, as his mother, is to enforce the boundaries he was pushing so hard against.

Ironically, though, it was I who needed to be reined in; they were my fingers wrapped so tightly around his gorgeous cock, and as I stroked him, my thoughts drifted to my husband, to the possibility that he would be home soon.

Sadly, I used to know when to expect him. Not so much anymore. In my darker moments, I envision him chasing after one of the little cuties at work. Oh, I have no doubt that he still loves me; it comes through in the way he holds me, in the way he nuzzles me, but the fire that used to burn between us is but an ember. Now, just a few months past my fortieth birthday, I find myself unable to compete with the twenty-somethings. Worse, I can’t compete with Christine, his thirty-something boss.

There’s no question in my mind that she’s got her sights set on him; I can see it in her eyes. A woman can’t hide from another woman. No, if they haven’t already, it’s only a matter of time before they cross that line, before she gets her hooks in him. My only hope is that he has enough respect for me to refrain from doing anything that would embarrass me.

His soft moan brought me back, and I exhaled as I banished the morose thoughts to focus on my son, on pleasuring him.

Subconsciously, I’m aware that I’m carefully cultivating our relationship; cooking and cleaning for him, silently training him to come to me for his needs, but where most mothers draw the line somewhere around teaching their children about the birds and the bees, the line I’ve set isn’t quite so clear. Indeed, it’s hazy, and getting more so with each passing day.

Interestingly, I’ve never had to ask myself why I’m so accommodating, why I find it so hard to deny him, indeed, why I won’t deny him; he is incredibly handsome, more so, even, than his dreamy father. I may be a lady, but I’m also a woman, and I know that, when the time comes, when he’s developed sufficient confidence to come after me, looking for the one thing a mother is never supposed to give her son, I’ll lay back and spread my legs for him. I’ll stared up into his beautiful eyes and cherish the—”

His long, low groan captured my attention and I lowered my gaze to the fat, drooling tip, licking my lips as I fought the urge to swipe my tongue through the lubricant gathered there. Oh, how I longed to taste him. It wouldn’t happen today, but soon he’d tangle his fingers in my hair and guide me to him. Until then...

I drew him closer, while angling him down, and on the next down-stroke, he throbbed with the first pulse, then another. The third pulse brought with it another deep groan, along with the first volley of sperm. Years of experience with his father had me pulling him down into contact with my breast, at a slight angle. This, I knew, would prevent him squirting everywhere. Even so, he made quite a mess, and as the tremors continued to course through him, I leaned forward to press my lips to his stomach. The move caused him to slide over my breast, smearing his warm, slick cream over my skin, and I released a soft moan, my head swimming, as it began to ooze down into the valley between my breasts. I kissed him again, even as I drew him into my cleavage, taking even more of his slick seed along with him.

It’s at this point that I usually take his father into my mouth, to clean him off, and while he appreciates the attention, I didn’t do it the first few times, and I had no intention of doing it now, for my son. One day, just not this one.

I brought my gaze up when he began to knead my neck, and returned his look of profound gratitude with a smile. “Nice?”

He groaned, his eyes closing. They came open a moment later, though, to focus on my lips, even as his hand wrapped around my own, where I continued to move him around on my breast, spreading his cum out over my skin.

My heart began to race as his other hand came up to cup my chin, for, there, in his eyes, was a good dose of the hunger I’ve known was coming. I’d have shaken my head, told him no, were he not holding me, preventing it. Instead, I told him with my eyes, or so I imagined. Undeterred, he brought his still-hard cock up.

No. The word was on the tip of my tongue, waiting to come out, but though my lips parted, the only thing that came out was the tip of my tongue, distracting him, drawing his attention to my lips as I moistened them. I allowed it when he drew me toward him, exhaled, my eyes drifting closed as, yet again, my tongue came out, this time to guide him into my mouth. Our soft moans filled my head as his cock slid across my tongue, painting it with his naughty seed. Of their own volition, my lips closed around the slick, swollen knob. Later, once I found peace with what we were doing, I’d meet his gaze. For now, I hid from him.

I felt his hand leave my own—the one wrapped around him—which left me free to release him. Instead, I pulled my hand down to the base of him, and I earned yet another soft moan from him when I drew more of him into my mouth.

It came to me, as I listened to his soft moans of pleasure, that, until today, I’ve only ever gotten him off once, during any given interlude. Today, though, would be different; he wasn’t going soft. Indeed, he was as hard as I’ve ever had him.

I eased off of him, my head shaking, when his hand tightened on my jaw, when he tried to push more of his cock into my mouth. “Shhh... Let me do it, baby.”

Without hesitation, he eased his hold on me, and moaned when I took him back in.

His hips had only just begun to move, his fingers flexing and relaxing where he still held my jaw, when I heard the sound of his father’s truck, and though the last thing I wanted to do was to end our fun, I knew we had less than a minute before he came through the door.

It would have been reasonable to send him to his room to finish himself off, but I’m not sure I could have stopped even if I hadn’t heard his father. I want to believe that I’d have sent him scurrying, at the sound of the front door opening, but I can’t say for sure I’d have allowed him out of my mouth.

Fortunately, I know how men work; I tightened my grip on him, while pulling my hand down to the base of him. His cock began to swell immediately, the veins coming out in stark relief. I allowed the fat knob to slip out, even as I wrapped my other hand around him. He groaned, long and low, when I gripped him, stretching the silky skin.

He tensed up, with the sound of his father’s truck, as it came to a stop at the curb, but it was too late; he was past the point of no return.

At the last moment, as he began to groan, I wrapped my lips around him in a warm, wet embrace, and pulled both hands down hard, then again when he began to throb. I moaned, as did he, as his orgasm took him.

It came to me, as I listened to his father’s footsteps, that my blouse was open. Reluctantly, I released him, even as I swallowed, then again and again, trying to get his cum down, while struggling with my blouse. I pushed him out with my tongue when I heard his father’s footsteps on the stairs. I stood, licking my lips, as I reached for his hand.

We’d only just reached the hall when I heard his key slide into the lock. At his bedroom, he stopped me with a hand on my shoulder, and turned me. I had no time to react before he pressed his lips to mine, short-circuiting my senses, and I was still processing, trying desperately to memorize the feel of his lips against mine, when he moved his lips to my ear. “Goddess,” he purred.

Stunned, I stood there a moment, my eyes closed.


I opened my eyes to focus on his face, on his own gorgeous, blue eyes.

“Dad,” he said, his gaze on my lips.

I nodded, even as I leaned toward him, mesmerized.


My heart, already racing, sped up. “Go!” I hissed, fighting a smile.

Again, he pressed his lips to mine, then darted into his room.

As quickly and as quietly as I could, I made my way down the hall. I was naked by the time I reached the bathroom, and I hastily started the shower running, and was just climbing in when, again, Chase called out to me, this time from our bedroom. I didn’t answer for fear that my nervousness would come through in my voice.

I had just enough time to rinse off the bulk of the mess Kenny had made of my chest, as well as the trail of slick cream that had made its way down my belly. My panties had prevented any further progress. Now, though, naked, and with the water cascading over me, my heart raced. Now, with the water carrying it further down, what was to stop his naughty, little swimmers from making their way to my entrance and, from there, up into my womb? Only two things prevented me from hyperventilating: the fact that I was nowhere near to ovulating, and the rather high improbability that his sperm could actually make their way all the way to my cervix, and from there, up into my womb. Indeed, all the cards were stacked in my favor.

I could still feel traces of his cum, where my hands slipped across my skin, when my husband appeared, and as his gaze drifted over me, I cursed the large, walk-in shower I’d fallen in love with, during our initial walk-through of the house, all those years ago. Now, I found myself wishing for the privacy of a curtain.

“Thought you showered this morning?” he said, his gaze lingering on my breasts.

I waited for his gaze to come up before responding. “It’s a woman thing.”

“Ah,” he said, nodding, his gaze drifting. It came up a few moments later. “Gonna go check on Kenny.”

I began to relax only after he’d gone. I hadn’t intended on doing my hair twice in one day, but then, I hadn’t intended on sucking my son off, either. Resigned, I turned and tilted my head back, and I sighed as the hot water washed away the stress.

Clean and dry, but for my hair, I pulled on a light dress, then went in search of my husband. I found him on the phone, in the office. I rubbed his shoulders while waiting patiently for him to finish his conversation. He groaned, when he hung up, his head falling forward.

“What are the chances you’ll take me out?”

“Forget I have a meeting?”

My hands froze as the image of them came into focus; her laying back across his desk, her dress up around her waist, his cock buried in her. I cleared my throat, banishing the image. “Promise me something?”

He turned to make eye contact, his brows drawn.

“Promise me you won’t leave me for her,” I whispered.

He exhaled, his eyes drifting closed.

“I’m not blind, Chase.”


I gripped him. A moment later, he was standing and pulling me to him. I sighed, when he brushed his cheek to me, and tightened my hold on him. “I don’t blame you,” I whispered. “I just don’t want to lose you.”

“I have no intention of leaving you, not for her or anybody else.”

His touch and his tone spoke to the truth of his words, and I found myself relaxing further. “Make sure she knows you have a family that loves you,” I whispered.


I gripped him, sending my nails into his back. “And for God’s sake, wear a condom.” I flattened my hands and resumed my gentle caress. “I can’t fault you for wanting to chase after her, but a pregnancy would tear this family apart.”

He pressed his lips to the top of my head, and for a long while we stood there in silence. He broke it, his voice just reaching me. “I love you very much, you know.”

“I do know.”

“Never do anything to hurt you.”