His Mother’s Diary by tw_holt
He learns a lot by invading his mom’s privacy. , His Mother’s Diary
-1-
“Ahh yeah, yes!” Curt was furiously jacking off in the shower, thoughts of Miranda’s big, juicy butt slamming down on a big, black cock.
“Yes!” He thought back to that night he peeped into her bedroom, the sounds of sex waking him. He saw Miranda, her back to the door, riding a hugely muscular black man in her bed.
Shock turned to anger, anger turned to interest, then interest turned to arousal. “Wow,” he whispered as he watched her, hypnotized by her ass. Unable to look away, he was getting hard.
He saw her arch her back, long brown hair flowing down her back, her booty going still as she climaxed while impaled on the black man’s dick.
Curt immediately dashed to his room, jacking off, cumming in seconds. The guilt washed over him, the anger that his mother, Miranda, would bring some black guy home to have sex with came next.
“How could she?” he asked, catching his breath. “Who is he?”
When he’d rested up, Curt snuck back to his mother’s bedroom door once again, this time seeing her in a 69-position sucking and slobbering all over a huge, black rod, her ass covering the black man’s face. He only left for his room when his mother climbed off him and went to all fours, the black man obscuring his view.
For weeks he would sneak and watch her fuck this black man. Curt would jack off to her, always feeling guilt for spying and lusting after her, followed by anger that she would do this. “Slut,” he muttered under his breath before going to sleep. “No wonder she isn’t around as much.”
Here he was in the shower, pumping his cock, spraying a load of semen to thoughts of his mother riding a black man.
“Ahhh!” he cried out when his cock erupted, his moans of pleasure echoing in the bathroom. He was home alone; his mother was still at work.
Sitting down in the shower stall, feeling stupid for jacking off to her, Curt shook his head. “Who is that guy? What does she see in him? A big dick I guess. Slut.”
That evening after dinner, Curt sat across from his mother on the couch, glancing at her. Miranda was humming to herself, ignoring the television while writing something in a book of some sort. She giggled, twirling a lock of brown hair with her index finger and turned the page.
“Is she even wearing pants?” Curt thought, glaring at her exposed thigh, her legs barely covered by a long t-shirt. “Is that his t-shirt?”
He wanted to ask who the black guy was, but Curt didn’t want his mother to know he was spying on her while she had sex with him. Plus, while the two of them were somewhat close and got along ok, Curt didn’t feel comfortable prying into her sex life.
Miranda closed the book, set her pen down and got off the couch. Smiling down to Curt, she kissed the top of his head, “Goodnight, sweetie.”
“Night,” Curt nodded, watching her hips sway as she left the room, the t-shirt coming down where her ass ended. He rolled his eyes.
“The book,” he thought. “I’ve seen her write in it for several weeks. I bet it’s a diary. Maybe she’s writing ALL about black men, sex, and stupid shit like that.”
Curt sighed heavily, annoyed at himself for feeling anger and guilt, at the audacity of his mother having a sex life, and at his overwhelming curiosity to learn more about it.
He tossed and turned in bed, the images of his mother sucking black cock coursing through his mind. “So good,” he whispered, thinking about how she looked.
“No!” he fussed at himself for having these perverse thoughts. “I shouldn’t be turned on by this.”
He couldn’t help it. Curt imagined that huge dick erupting in his mother’s mouth, spilling out of it. Curt lost it, arched his back and sprayed his own cum all over his stomach and chest.
“Damn,” he cursed himself after catching his breath. He rolled over, sleep finding him in minutes.
-2-
The next week, Curt watched her write in her book across from him on the couch. The smile on her face, the playful way she twirled her hair, the tank tops, tiny boy shorts, the occasional sports bra. Curt shook his head watching her write, thinking. “You hardly wear much of anything lately. Probably don’t even wear underwear.”
He stared at her thigh again, his eyes trailing to her ass, imaging a big black cock spraying its load all over it.
“Curt?” his mother spoke.
“Hmm?”
“You ok?” she asked, catching him stare at the side of her butt.
“Oh, uh, yeah,” Curt shook himself from his stupor, turning away red-faced and embarrassed.
“Would you get me some water? I don’t feel like getting up, my butt is killing me,” Miranda said.
“Huh?”
“The gym this morning. I was working my uh,” Miranda’s eyes went to her side, her hand tapping her thigh, near her butt.
“Oh, right. Sure.”
Curt retrieved a water bottle from the refrigerator handing it to his mother. He watched her drink from it, eyes widened when he thought he heard her moan. He envisioned the water bottle was a fat, black cock and his mother was drinking from it.
“Ahh, there we go,” she finished it. “Thank you. Help me up?”
“Sure,” Curt quickly stood, calming the erection with anger at himself and her.
Miranda stood before him with his help and hugged her son. He peered over her shoulder to where his hand was resting – the small of her back, just above the rise of her ample backside. “Stop,” he told himself.
“See you tomorrow. I love you,” Miranda said, kissing his cheek and leaving. More guilt washed over him.
“I’ll be hanging out with a friend tomorrow night. I’ll be home late. Leftovers are in the fridge,” She called out over her shoulder. Curt assumed she was referring to the black guy she was sleeping with. He nodded and glanced at the book she was carrying, the pen in her other hand.
In his bed, stroking his cock a little later, Curt made a poor decision. “Yeah that’s right. You’ll be out sleeping around with some black man. I’ll be here, home alone. I’ll figure out who he is and what you’ve been up to.”
-3-
The next evening Curt entered his mother’s bedroom. He searched for ten minutes before finding it. He searched under her bed, in her nightstand, finally finding it under the cushion of a chair in the corner.
Just as he suspected, it was a diary. Casually flipping through it, he saw her handwriting.
He stopped himself, invading her privacy affecting him. Curt started to put the diary back where he found it, but talked himself out of it. He wanted to know who the guy was and what was going on with his mother.
He started at the beginning, glancing over the words, skimming through each page. He saw words like “lonely,” “bored,” “unhappy.” Curt kept skimming her entries.
He found another entry about her work. “Horrible,” “stupid,” “tired,” and “annoying” were a few of the words he saw.
Briefly scanning more pages, finding nothing besides the words of a lonely, single mother, Curt landed on a page about the gym. He read nothing of interest in it until he saw the word “sexy.”
“This is it. This must be where she met him,” he thought. He read the entry, surprised at who his mother was writing about.