Stammering Boy Fucks Ex’s Mom

Characters:
Laxmi – My ex 19 years old
Swapna Reddy – Laxmi’s mom.
Myself

I walked through the bustling mall, my cart empty, my mind elsewhere. The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, casting a sterile glow on the polished floors. My eyes flicked nervously from store to store, searching for the perfect gift for my mom’s upcoming birthday.

But as I turned a corner, my breath caught in my throat. There she was—Swapna Reddy, Laxmi’s mother. Her elegant stride, confident posture, and even the way she brushed her hair behind her ear all felt so familiar. I hesitated. Should I approach her? No, that would be awkward.

But something about seeing her here, alone, made me curious. I trailed behind her, keeping a careful distance, my palms sweating. For ten minutes, I followed her, my heart pounding louder with each step.  And then, just as I was about to turn away, she spun around, her eyes blazing.

“Young man!” she snapped, her voice sharp enough to cut glass. “Better stop stalking me. I see your cart is empty, and you’ve been following me for ten minutes. Don’t make me call security or the police. Walk away silently.”

My hands trembled. I opened my mouth to explain, but the words tangled in my throat. My stammering reared its ugly head, making me sound like a bumbling fool. I could see the disgust in her eyes, the way she dismissed me as some creep.

Panicking, I fumbled for my wallet, pulling out my college ID. My fingers shook as I typed into my phone:

“Sorry, Madam, I am not stalking you. I thought you were my mom’s friend. You looked just like her from behind. I have this stammering problem, so I couldn’t shout to get your attention. When you threatened me, I realized you weren’t her. If you don’t trust me, you can call my mom. She knows about my issue.”

I held out my phone, pleading with my eyes for her to understand. She didn’t take it at first, her lips pressed into a thin line, her chest rising and falling with barely contained anger. But finally, she snatched the phone, her eyes scanning the message.

Slowly, the fire in her gaze dimmed, replaced by something softer—something almost like guilt.

“Oh,” she said quietly, her tone shifting. “I… I’m sorry. I misunderstood.” Her hand reached for mine, her touch surprisingly gentle. “Come on, let’s sit down. Have a coffee with me.”

We found a cosy corner in Starbucks, the hum of conversation and the aroma of freshly brewed coffee wrapping around us. Swapna stirred her drink slowly, her expression thoughtful.

“I was upset this morning,” she admitted, her voice soft now, apologetic. “I jumped to conclusions. I shouldn’t have shouted at you like that.”

I laughed nervously, my stammer still lingering like a shadow. “It’s o.. okay, Maa.. Madam. I un.. under..stand.”

She smiled, her features softening even more. “What brings you to the mall today?” she asked warmly invitingly.

“I’m go.. go.. going to nae.. native tonight. I managed to say, my cheeks burning with embarrassment. Next week is mom’s birr..birthday. Came to buy her dark cha..chocolates and gi..gifts.”

Her eyes sparkled with interest. “Let me help you pick something out,” she offered, setting her cup down. “Wait here for fifteen minutes. I’ll be back. Do not go anywhere.”

I blinked, startled. “Plea..ssee, do.. do not threa.. threaten me, Madam.”

She chuckled, a light, melodic sound that made my chest tighten. “It’s not a threat, dear,” she teased, leaning in to pinch my cheek lightly. “It’s a request.”

Fifteen minutes later, she returned with a beautifully wrapped gift. My eyes widened as she handed it to me.

Madam, what is this? I stammered, bewildered.

“It’s something for your mom,” she said, tone firm but kind. “Tell her you purchased it yourself.”

“No, Maa.. Madam, please. I can’t take it.”

But she insisted, slipping the gift into my bag before I could protest further. Then, she grabbed my phone, her fingers brushing against mine as she unlocked it. She dialled her number, letting it ring once before handing it back to me.

“Save the number if you wish,” she said, her voice hinting at something I couldn’t quite place.

Later, as we stood outside the mall, she asked, “How will you get home? Do you have a bike?”

“No, Madam. I.. I.. took a roo..room nearby. I stay al..al..alone.”

Without hesitation, she said, “I’ll drop you off.”

The ride to my apartment was quiet, but an unspoken tension was in the air. When we arrived, I invited her inside, but she smiled, her hand reaching up to pinch my cheek again.

“Some other time,” she murmured, her voice low, almost teasing. “For now, rest.”

She texted me the night.

Swapna: Had dinner?

The message was simple, but it sent a jolt through me. I stared at the screen for a moment before typing back, my fingers steady this time.

Me: No, not yet.

Almost instantly, she replied.

Swapna: Why? Don’t you know how to take care of yourself? Or do I need to come over and make sure you eat?

My breath hitched. There was something about how she phrased it—not a question, but a demand. I could hear her voice in my head, low and teasing, those words dripping with authority. I hesitated before responding.

Me: Would you come over?

Her reply came faster than I expected.

Swapna: Depends. Are you going to behave? Or do I need to teach you a lesson first?

My cheeks burned, but a part of me thrilled at her words. I typed back quickly, but my stammer was absent in the text.

Me: I don’t know… maybe I want the lesson.

There was a pause, long enough that I thought she might have changed her mind. But then my phone lit up again.

Swapna: Cheeky boy. Do you think you can handle me?

I swallowed hard, my pulse quickening. This wasn’t just friendly banter anymore. It was charged electric, and I couldn’t stop diving deeper.

Me: Maybe not. But I’d like to try.

Her next message made my heart skip a beat.

Swapna: Good. Because if I come over, you won’t be in charge. Understand?

I hesitated, my mind racing. This was dangerous territory, but I couldn’t deny the thrill coursing through me.

Me: Yes, Madam.

The ellipsis appeared, indicating she was typing. Then:

Swapna: Say it properly.

I stared at the screen, my throat dry. Was she serious? Before I could second-guess myself, I typed:

Me: Yes, Madam. I understand. I’ll behave.

Her response was immediate.

Swapna: That’s better. Now tell me, what do you want me to do when I get there?

Me: I want you to control me. Outside the bedroom. But inside… I want to dominate you.

Swapna: Oh, so you want me to be your ‘sugar mommy’ most of the time… but your slut in bed?

Me: Something like that.

Swapna: We’ll see. For now, imagine my hands around your throat, my lips whispering in your ear, reminding you who’s in charge. Goodnight, naughty boy.

Just as I was about to give in to the urge, my phone buzzed again. I grabbed it eagerly, hoping it was her. But instead, it was Laxmi.

Laxmi: Hey, you okay? Mom told me she saw you at the mall today. Said you looked nervous or something.

I frowned, my arousal dissipating as guilt crept in. Laxmi had no idea what was happening between me and her mother, and I wasn’t sure how I felt about that. Still, I responded vaguely.

Me: Yeah, I’m fine. Just had a weird moment. Your mom helped me out, though.

Laxmi’s reply was swift.

Laxmi: Good. She’s great like that. Anyway, call me tomorrow.

I sighed, feeling the weight of the situation settle over me.

Me: Sure. Night.

Setting aside my phone, I tried to shake off the conflicting emotions. On one hand, there was Swapna—commanding, seductive, everything I craved. On the other, there was Laxmi—sweet, innocent, and completely unaware.

But as I closed my eyes, it was Swapna’s face that filled my mind, her voice echoing in my ears. “Imagine my hands around your throat…”

A knock at the door jolted me upright. My heart raced as I glanced at the clock—11:30 PM. Who could it be at this hour? Slowly, I got up and peered through the peephole.

And there she was.

Swapna stood in the hallway, her arms crossed, a smirk playing on her lips. She raised an eyebrow as if daring me to open the door.

I fumbled with the lock, my hands trembling slightly. When I finally opened the door, she stepped inside without a word, her presence filling the room.

“You left me hanging,” she said, her voice low and teasing. “Didn’t think I’d come, did you?”

I shook my head, unable to form words. She closed the distance between us, her fingers brushing against my cheek.

“Tell me,” she murmured, her breath warm against my ear. “Do you still want that lesson?”

The next morning, the soft chime of my phone pulled me out of a restless sleep. I squinted at the screen, the time glaring back at me: 8:00 AM. A text from Swapna lit up the display. “Be ready by 9. I’ll pick you up.” My heart skipped a beat, the memory of last night flooding back.

By 9:00, I stood outside my apartment building, the warm morning sun brushing against my skin. The sleek black car pulled up, and Swapna rolled down the window. She was dressed casually yet elegantly, her hair tied back in a loose ponytail.

“Get in,” she said with a sly smile, her tone leaving no room for hesitation. I slid into the passenger seat, the leather cool against my thighs.

We drove in silence at first, the city rolling past us. But it didn’t take long for her to start teasing me again. “Did you dream about me last night?” she asked, her voice dripping with playful mischief. I stammered, unable to respond coherently, which only made her laugh.

“Relax, boy. You’re too tense.” Her hand reached over, resting briefly on my thigh, sending a shiver through me.

By 2:00 PM, we were back at my apartment. The air between us felt charged, thick with unspoken tension. She sat on the edge of my bed, her legs crossed, while I stood awkwardly near the door. “Come here,” she said, patting the space beside her.

I obeyed, my heart pounding as I sat down. The proximity was overwhelming—I could smell her floral and intoxicating perfume. For a moment, neither of us moved. Then, tentatively, I reached out and touched her hand. It was a small gesture, but it broke the dam.

Her eyes met mine, and before I knew it, she leaned in, her lips pressing against mine. The kiss started soft, almost hesitant, but quickly deepened, turning hungry and desperate. I could feel her hands gripping my shoulders, pulling me closer.

I kissed her back with equal fervour, my fingers tangling in her hair. Our breaths mingled, hot and urgent, as the kisses grew wilder. Her tongue slipped into my mouth, and I groaned, the sound muffled by our connection. My hands roamed over her body, feeling the curves beneath her clothes.

She gasped when I cupped her breast, her nipple hardening under my palm through the fabric of her blouse. “Off,” she whispered against my lips, tugging at my shirt. We helped each other undress, our movements frantic, impatient. When she stood to remove her pants, I couldn’t help but stare.

She was flawless, her body a masterpiece of soft skin and graceful lines. She caught me looking and smirked. “See something you like?” Before I could answer, she pushed me back onto the bed, climbing over me. Her lips found mine again, trailing down my neck, leaving a fire trail in their wake.

She nipped at my collarbone, drawing a low moan from me. Her hands explored my chest, nails lightly scraping over my skin, making me arch into her touch. I reached for her, my fingers sliding between her thighs, finding her wet and ready. She gasped, her hips jerking forward as I stroked her.

“Not yet,” she murmured, catching my wrist. She shifted, positioning herself above me, and guided me inside her. The sensation was overwhelming, her warmth enveloping me completely. She began to move, her pace slow initially, her eyes locked on mine.

But soon, the rhythm grew faster, more intense. I gripped her hips, helping her as she rode me, my desire spiralling out of control. I flipped her onto her back, taking control now. My thrusts were hard, driven by passion and something darker—the betrayal I still carried from Laxmi.

Swapna moaned my name, her nails digging into my back as I pounded into her. Her legs wrapped around me, pulling me deeper. I buried my face in her neck, sucking and biting until she cried out, her body trembling beneath me.

My hands moved to her breasts, kneading them roughly, my mouth capturing one nipple and sucking hard. She arched her back, writhing under me, and I gave her other breast the same treatment, leaving bite marks that made her gasp. “Yes,” she whispered, her voice strained. “Harder.”

I obliged, my hips slamming into hers with relentless force. Her cries grew louder, more desperate, and I could feel her tightening around me. She came with a shuddering cry, her body clamping down on me, and that sent me over the edge.

I spilt into her, my vision going white as waves of pleasure crashed over me. We collapsed together, both of us breathless and slick with sweat. Her head rested on my chest, and I ran my fingers idly through her hair. We were silent for a while, the only sound of our ragged breathing.

Eventually, my hand drifted down to her thigh, caressing the smooth skin. She hummed contentedly, her fingers tracing patterns in the hair on my chest. “You’re full of surprises,” she said softly, tilting her head to look at me.

Her expression was unreadable, but there was a flicker of something in her eyes—affection? Curiosity? She leaned in, placing a gentle kiss on my lips before pulling away. “What are we doing, boy?” she murmured, more to herself than to me.

Before I could respond, she sat up, glancing at the clock. “It’s getting late,” she said, her tone shifting. She stood, stretching languidly, and began gathering her clothes. I watched her dress, my mind swirling with questions I wasn’t brave enough to ask.

As she buttoned her blouse, she turned to me, her gaze piercing. “Don’t overthink this,” she said, her voice firm. “Just… enjoy it.” And with that, she was gone, leaving me alone in the quiet of my room, the scent of her perfume lingering in the air.

The glow of my phone illuminated the darkened room as I lay in bed, still replaying the day’s events in my mind. The scent of Swapna’s perfume clung faintly to my sheets, a lingering reminder of her presence. My fingers traced idle patterns on the fabric.

My thoughts drifted between satisfaction and unease. Just as I was about to set my phone aside, it buzzed softly, jolting me from my reverie. I glanced at the screen, and my breath caught. A new message from Swapna. My thumb hovered for a moment before I swiped open the notification.

The first thing I saw was a photo—a selfie of her standing in front of a mirror, clad in a black lace lingerie set that hugged her curves like a second skin. The delicate straps accentuated her toned shoulders, and the plunging neckline left little to the imagination.

Her lips curved into a sly smile, her eyes glinting with mischief.

“What do you think? New collection,” her caption read.

My heart raced, my mouth suddenly dry. I stared at the image, unable to look away. My thumb moved instinctively to reply, but I hesitated, unsure how to respond without sounding awkward or overly eager. Before I could formulate a response, another message popped up.

“Cat got your tongue, boy?” she teased, followed by a winking emoji.

I chuckled nervously, my fingers fumbling over the keyboard. She always knows how to push my buttons. “It… it looks amazing on you,” I typed out, my stammer translating into choppy text. “You’re beautiful.”

Her reply came almost instantly. “Beautiful, huh? You’re sweet. But I want more than sweet words tonight.”

My pulse quickened. What did she mean by that? My imagination began to run wild, conjuring images of her slipping out of that lingerie, her body pressed against mine. I shook my head, trying to steady my thoughts, but another message interrupted me.

“Tell me what you’d do if I were there right now,” she wrote. “Be honest. Don’t hold back.”

I swallowed hard, my cheeks heating up at the boldness of her request. My thumbs hovered over the screen, my mind racing. Could I really say it? Could I put those desires into words? Taking a deep breath, I began typing, my heart pounding.

“If you were here… I’d start by kissing you. Slowly. Your neck first. Then, your collarbone. I’d let my hands explore every inch of you, tracing the lace until I couldn’t take it anymore. Then I’d slip it off, piece by piece, savouring the way it feels against your skin. And then…”

I paused, my fingers trembling slightly. Was this too much? Would she find it ridiculous? Before I could second-guess myself, her reply appeared.

“Then what?” she pressed, her tone playful yet demanding. “Don’t stop now. I’m intrigued.”

Encouraged by her response, I continued, my words flowing more freely now.

“Then I’d lay you down and kiss my way down your body. Every curve. Every dip. I’d take my time, making sure you feel every touch, every whisper of my lips against your skin. And when I reach… where no one else has gone, I’d make you forget everything but the sound of your moans.”

The moment I hit send, a wave of nervous exhilaration washed over me. I waited anxiously for her reply, half-expecting her to laugh or chastise me for being so forward. Instead, her next message sent a jolt of electricity through me.

“Good boy,” she wrote, followed by a voice note. I tapped it immediately, her husky voice filling the room.

“You’ve been thinking about this, haven’t you? Imagine me beneath you, writhing under your touch. Tell me, do you want to taste me? Feel how wet I am for you right now?”

Her words were like fire, igniting a heat deep within me. My hand clenched around the phone as I listened to her breathing grow heavier, each word dripping with seduction.

“I want you to touch yourself,” she continued, her voice dropping to a whisper. “Pretend it’s me. Pretend it’s my hands, my mouth, my body. Give in to it.”

I hesitated for only a moment before obeying, my free hand sliding beneath the waistband of my boxers. My breath hitched as I gripped myself, her voice still echoing in my ears.

“That’s it,” she purred as if she could sense my compliance. “Now tell me how it feels.”

“It feels… incredible,” I managed to type out, my fingers clumsy with urgency. “I wish it was you. I wish you were here.”

Her reply came swiftly. “Maybe I will be. Keep going. Show me how much you want me.”

A boldness I didn’t know I possessed took over, and I snapped a quick picture of myself, my hand wrapped around my big dick, barely visible in the dim light. I sent it without thinking, my face burning despite the thrill coursing me.

Her reaction was immediate. “Naughty boy,” she wrote, accompanied by a devilish emoji. “I like that side of you.”

Minutes turned into an eternity as we exchanged increasingly explicit messages, each one pushing me closer to the edge. Her words painted vivid pictures in my mind, her demands growing more daring with every exchange. When she sent another voice note, I was trembling with need.

“I want you to cum for me,” she whispered, her voice low and sultry. “Let me hear it.”

When I finally opened my eyes, my phone buzzed once more. “Good boy,” she wrote, her tone softer now. “Sweet dreams.”

I stared at the screen, my chest heaving as I tried to process what had just happened. Part of me wanted to ask her what this meant, where we stood, but I knew better. She’d made it clear—this wasn’t about labels or expectations. It was about desire, pure and simple.

As I set my phone aside and closed my eyes, her final words lingered in my mind. Sweet dreams. I doubted I’d get much sleep tonight, but for the first time in a long while, I didn’t care. My thoughts were consumed by her, and for now, that was enough.

Email me at [email protected]. Thank you for reading.