Ms. Stockton

SWISH! Nothing but buckets for my baby! The buzzer rings and it’s half time. I watch as the players paw over the homemade treats and ice cold drinks I brought for them. How and when exactly I became became the team mom still escapes me, but as long as my baby continues making the game-winning shots, I’ll do anything to help. The game’s over and I head to the locker room to give Maurice his congratulatory kiss.

“MOM!” Maurice attempts to squirm away, afraid of being embarrassed in front of his teammates.

“Thanks for the snacks, Nicky,” Number 42 says while brushing against my rear end.

“You’re welcome, Bryant, and that’s Ms. Stockton to you.”

Bryant and I have been having an affair since his 18th birthday. I let Maurice and his friends have a party for him at the house so that I could monitor the alcohol and drug activity. Though I do not condone underage drinking, I was young once too, and I prefer it being done in a safe environment. When the party ended, those who passed my breathalyzer were given their keys back and allowed to drive home, others were permitted to stay over until the morning.  I looked around at all the teenagers unable to handle their alcohol laid out across my basement floor. I found a blunt pre-rolled and decided to help myself to it, grabbing a beer from the fridget on my way out to the back porch. Just as I exhaled, a shadow hovered over me. I looked up to see the birthday boy smiling down at me.

“I think that is mine,” Bryant grinned.

“Oh. Well since you and all your hoodlum friends destroyed my house, I decided it was mine.” I said, taking another puff.

“Well, you mind if I hit it with you? It is my birthday.” He flashed another smile my way.

Bryant was a very charismatic young gentleman. Being the starting point guard was just the the cherry on top to his, god like physique and beautiful facial structure. His dark skin was smooth and damn near lickable. I could tell he had them high school girls practically handing him their virginity.

I motioned for him to take a seat next to me and hit the jay one more time before passing it.

We talked about his college plans, and occasionally he would sneak in a compliment about how I was the best looking mom on the team. When the jay finished, I got up to head to bed.

“Good night, Ms. Stockton!” he yelled out to me.

“Good night, Bryant.” I reached around his neck, giving him a hug and a peck his forehead.  As I went to pull away, he grabbed onto my arm and stared into my eyes.

It could’very been the blunt, it could’ve been the fact that I hadn’t been laid since Maurice’s father finalized the divorce, or it could’ve been because I just fucking wanted to, but I fucked the boy that night.


I leave Maurice alone and head out to the halls where all the other parents have gathered to collect their children. In my attempt to avoid the PTA moms asking me to join the meetings along with their weekly lunches, I run into Bryant’s mom.

“Hi, Patricia!” She rushes over to me with open arms. Our sons have been friends since they were 10, so we aren’t strangers to one another. I actually think of our conversations as foreplay now. When I really want Bryant to give it to me good, I go to his house and talk to his mom as he stalks back and forth through the house eyeing me down. I invite the family over for dinner on Saturday and she graciously accepts.

Saturday comes and we eat our early supper. I stroke Byant’s erection under the table the whole time. When it’s time for them to leave, he asks his mom if he can walk home so he can stay and hang with Maurice a little longer. Maurice has plans to go see his girlfriend, but he just goes along with the lie, guessing it’s being told for a good reason. I raised him well.

When Maurice thinks I’m out of earshot, he asks Bryant what was up with the lie.

“Man, my moms been tripping. Talking about how pussy be messing up my game. I’m bout to go smash shorty from the track team and ain’t feel like hearing her mouth.” Bryant continues lying smoothly.

The boys bring the dishes in the kitchen and place them in the sink.

“Thanks, boys. Bryant, your parents left before dessert could finish. I baked a sweet potato pie for y’all, it’ll only be a few more minutes. You can wait in the living room for it.”

“Well Ma, I got to go see Lisa, I’ll just eat dessert later. Bryant, you cool if I leave you here?”

“Yeah bruh, it’s good. I’ll just watch t.v. and pack the pie up before I head out.” The boys dap up and Maurice heads out the front door.

“You thought that shit was cute? Making my dick hard in front of my peoples?” Bryant says, pressing his now semi-hard erection onto my backside.

“Should I be jealous of this ‘track shorty?'” I joked.

“Now, Nicky—”

“And that’s another thing! Don’t be calling me Nicky in front of your boys thinking THAT shit cute. You going to get us caught up.” I turn around and face him, eyes locked. I can see the lust in his eyes, and my pussy was yearning for his well-endowed dick.

My arms still have suds on them from the sink, but I don’t care. I wrap my arms around his neck and bring him down for a kiss.

“So you just going to get me wet, huh?” He smirked.

“You usually don’t mind,” I say, leaning back in for another round of his lips.

He palms my ass like a basketball, lifting my skirt up enough for him to slip the tips of his fingers between my kitty. For a 40-year-old mother of two, my shit was still tight and wet.

Just when things started to get real hot, the bell went off on my oven timer.

I take the pies out of the oven and place them on top of the stove to cool.

“Want some of this pie?”

“You know I do, Nick.” Bryant starts kissing down my neck, twisting my nipples through my shirt.

“Th-that’s not the pie I was talking about,” I stutter.

“I know,” he says, helping me out of my shirt.

When we first started fucking, he was so anxious to get to the pussy. High school shit. I trained him to take it slow and attend to every nerve ending in my body.

He eases me out of my bra, kissing each breast delicately, paying attention to each nipple.

He hooks his finger between my thong and skin, dragging his knuckle between my succulent lips.

With a jerk, he drops my thong to my ankles and he digs his face in, enjoying his phat slice of pussy pie.

“Sweet as usual,” he says, between licks.

“Of course. Wait until you taste my actual pie,” I say in a humorous tone.

He groans into my pussy and a shiver travels down to my cat. I twist my hips on his lips and cream.

When he leans back, his chocolate lips glisten with my juice. I kiss myself off of him and get on my knees. He lays back onto my kitchen floor and prepares to get his soul sucked out.

I spit on his dick, churning it like butter. I make sure his penis is well lubricated. I slap his dick on my tongue and watch his body freeze up.

“Don’t nut for me yet.” I love fucking with him. He makes me feel like a porn star in the bedroom. I know them high school girls don’t do shit but lay back and let the dick penetrate. I ride it, throw it back, all that shit. When I hit him with the reverse cowgirl the first time he bout went crazy, watching my ass jiggle in his face like that.

The neck of my shirt, along with his dick and balls, is soaking wet as I slob the dick down. My mouth is so full of saliva, I barely notice when he cums. I keep going, letting his nut drip down and pool on the floor.

Before I can ask, he has the condom ready in his hand. He rolls it down his dick and I position myself into the bucking butterfly. I ride him as usual, making sure to part my lips so he can get a good view of my clit. He massages it with his thumb as I ride. My knees start to get sore, so I plant both my feet on the floor and brace myself on his chest. I bounce on his erection and he holds onto my thighs firmly. I’m in my groove today. With a quick spin I slip one leg between his, and burrow his penis right into my g-spot.

When it’s all said and done, we just lie on the floor in a puddle of our on sexual euphoria. After a few minutes pass, I realize I have to get up and started on the clean up process; Maurice could be home at any moment. I peel myself off the floor and throw a roll of paper towels over to Bryant. I redress and wrap his pie up to go.

“Alright, bye Ms. Stockton,” he says, flashing that dazzling smile one more time. He takes the pie and heads out into the night.


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