Excerpt for Sinful Mothers 8 Pack – Books 1 - 8 by , available in its entirety at Smashwords

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Sinful Mothers 8 Pack – Books 1 - 8


Copyright © 2017 by Tori Westwood

Smashwords Edition

This is a work of fiction. All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. All characters 18+.

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Adult Reading Material


About This Book:

Sinful Mothers 8 Pack’ features books 1 – 8 of the Sinful Mothers series. Read how sultry, mature mothers take their son’s virginal cocks in desperate fashion, deflowering the very men closest to them and dominating them with their sexual experience.

Cum gets spilled everywhere as these older women get exactly what they want and sometimes a little more! Featuring innocent virgin sons, hot creampies, mature moms and sinful incest – you’ll love it!

Read An Excerpt

“It’s wet,” he said. “Is it supposed to be wet?”

“Not always,” I said. “Only when I’m turned on.”

He shot me a confused look amidst his frightened angst.

“What’s turning you on?”

“You are, Paul,” I answered. “Well, you and your big cock.”

As I said the words I gripped it in my hand, feeling the blood beat through it as he stayed stiff.

“Mmm,” I soothed, kissing at his cheek and moving to his ear. “Nice … big … cock.”

I came away from him and Paul took a look down my naked frame, shaking his head in disbelief.

I smirked as I turned, bending over at the waist and gripping my calves with my arms so he could get a good look at all I had to offer.

“And there’s your first pussy,” I said through my legs.

I looked at Paul’s upside down face as he let out another whimper, his instincts taking over now as he began to feel a magnetic attraction to my salivating pussy.

“Come taste it,” I said, stretching myself as I stayed folded in half in front of him.

“Taste it?” he asked, perplexed.

“Yes, Paul,” I said calmly. “Come over here and put your mouth on it.”

Ordering him around like this felt naughtier than anything I’d ever done, but I had to admit I enjoyed the control I wielded.

“Can I—are you—”

“Just do it, Paul,” I said a little sterner.

Paul crouched on all-fours and crawled over, drawing ever nearer to my honey-pot until I could feel his breath washing over it.

“Now open your mouth,” I said slowly, “and taste it.”

He shifted his weight and I felt his breath again, only closer now and soon I could feel his lips enveloping my wet crease.

“That’s right, honey,” I soothed, letting out a sigh.

Paul kissed it with his lips at first, seeming somewhat tentative and unfamiliar. It was clear he needed some guidance.

“Kiss it with your tongue,” I said, sliding my hands forward until I too was on all fours.

Paul went for it again, clasping his mouth over my groove and teasing a tongue along it.

“That’s right,” I encouraged. “Really get in there.”

I moved a hand behind and pushed him into my sex, feeling his nose tickle my asshole as his tongue darted all over my loose flesh.

“Keep going, honey,” I said sliding my ass up and down his face as he began to stab into my core with his tongue and really get a good taste of me.

I Fucked My Son In Ballet Class : Sinful Mothers 1

My ballet class was probably my proudest achievement. I’d started it after a successful career performing and it had gathered quite a lot of momentum. I was at a point now where I was choreographing my own shows and the pressure could be quite daunting.

Naturally my son, Paul, always got the lead role, but then I there wasn’t exactly a surfeit of male ballet dancers under my command.

I’d pushed Paul towards ballet from a very early age and he seemed to have a similar kind of drive and passion as I did. He’d often stay late after class or be studying the greats at home, sometimes at the expense of having fun with his friends.

I worried that Paul might be working a little too hard. A lot of his friends were out enjoying themselves and exploring girls, but I’d never once hear Paul bring a girl back or talk about a girl. I knew he wasn’t gay—I think a woman knows—so I was somewhat perturbed by his reluctance. At nineteen I’d have expected him to have lost his virginity, but a large part of me doubted that. Fuck, I wondered if he’d ever even seen a woman’s … you know.

It was one fateful day after class that everything changed for the both of us. There’d been a good turn-out of around forty people and, just like always, when the session was over Paul wanted to continue.

That’s all for today, guys,” I said, stood before my students in my tight, black leotard. “Make sure you go over the moves for ‘The Nutcracker’ at some point before next week.”

I leant against the bar that ran along the mirrored wall, watching as everybody left the big square studio. Everyone, that is, except Paul.

“Mom, I was thinking—”

“Here we go …” I said expecting the usual.

“Maybe you could help me with some of my routine?”

I sighed. “Every week, Paul.”

“What?” he asked, confused.

“Every single week you want to carry on after class. I wonder if it’s healthy.”

“Healthy? It’s called dedication, Mom.”

I looked Paul up and down. He was a fine specimen of a man but I worried about him. Beneath those ripped muscles and impressive physique was my innocent boy.

There’s a fine line between dedication and obsession, Paul, remember that,” I cautioned.

“I’m not obsessed,” he said, quick to defend himself.

“You need to learn to relax,” I said, taking a step towards him.

“This is relaxing,” he said, but I could tell he was trying to convince himself of it more than me.

“Go out,” I said. “There’s plenty of girls in this class you could date.”

“Not before the performance, Mom.”

“See,” I laughed. “You’re too caught up on this.”

“You taught me to be,” he countered.

“Paul,” I said, putting a hand on his face. “I want you to do ballet, but I want you to enjoy it.”

“I do enjoy it, Mom.”

“Good,” I said. “But you need to find the right balance.”

“I’ve got it, right now.”

“You haven’t, Paul,” I said taking a step back. “You need to go have some fun. Talk to girls—date girls—have sex with girls.”

Paul’s eyes drew wide as though I’d just said the most horrible thing.

“Come on, Paul,” I said. “You’re nineteen.”


“And you’ve never … been with a girl.”

His face flushed with a red hue. “I have,” he said timidly.

“Really?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes,” he said, lacking conviction.

“Tell me what it’s like then, Paul,” I said, perhaps teasing a little too much.


“Tell me what she was like,” I said. “Intimately.”

He swallowed hard and said nothing.

“What were her tits like?” I said, moving closer to him.

His pupil’s dilated but he said nothing.

“What was her ass like?”

Again, Paul stayed silent.

What was her pussy like?”

This time Paul seemed to tense up and I lingered close to him, watching the lie evaporate from him under my scrutiny. I could tell just from his face that he wasn't telling the truth.

His head fell downwards as he admitted defeat.

“I knew it,” I said, taking a step back now and turning to him. “So go out and enjoy your—”

I stopped mid-sentence when I saw it. It seems as I had been talking about the intimate parts of a woman, Paul had been thinking about them.

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