Raw Entanglements 💋
Jump to Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6
Chapter 1: Thunder’s Echo
The storm raged outside our rented cabin on the rugged Oregon coast, waves crashing like furious lovers against the cliffs. Salt air thick with brine seeped through the cracks, mixing with the earthy scent of damp pine. I sank deeper into the steaming hot tub on the deck, jets pounding my sore muscles. Liam, twenty-six, software coder with a body honed from trail runs—lean, tattooed arms, dark stubble shadowing my jaw.
Last night replayed in jagged flashes. Darkness. Rain hammering the roof. I’d stumbled into what I thought was Riley’s room, the fiery redhead from the coastal music fest we’d crashed before the downpour hit. Her wild curls, sun-kissed freckles, that husky laugh over craft beers. But it wasn’t her. It was Mom—Vivian. Forty-seven, yoga instructor with curves sculpted from downward dogs and warrior poses. Jet-black hair cascading like midnight waves, olive skin glowing under festival lights, green eyes that pierced like sea glass.
I’d pinned her down in the frenzy, her legs wrapping around me instinctively. The heat of her slick warmth gripping my hardness, pulling me deeper. Her moans raw, unfiltered, nails raking my shoulders until I tasted blood. Best fuck of my life. Raw, animalistic. No regrets flickered until dawn’s gray light revealed her face. Horror. Guilt. Then… acceptance? She hadn’t pushed me away.
Thunder boomed, vibrating through the water. My cock twitched at the memory. Fuck. What kind of twisted bastard gets hard thinking about his own mom like that?
Door creaked open. Mom stepped out, wrapped in a towel, steam curling around her like a lover’s breath. “Liam? You okay out here?” Her voice soft, laced with that post-storm calm she always carried.
“Yeah. Just… decompressing.” I averted my eyes from the towel’s precarious knot, droplets tracing paths down her collarbone.
She slid in across from me, sighing as heat enveloped her. “This storm’s biblical. Good thing Dad bailed on the trip—his ‘business call’ in Portland.” Bitterness edged her tone. Marcus, her ex of five years, always pulling vanishing acts.
We sat in charged silence, bubbles churning. Rain pelted our skin, cool against the scalding tub. Her foot brushed mine accidentally—or not. Electric jolt shot straight to my groin.
“About last night…” she started, voice barely audible over the gale.
“Don’t. Can’t unspill the wine, right?” I echoed her old saying, heart pounding raw against my ribs.
She met my gaze, unflinching. “No. We can’t.” Her lips curved faintly. “But damn, Liam. It was… intense.”
Chapter 2: Healing Bites 🔥
Back inside, cabin air heavy with cedar and lingering incense from her yoga mat. Fireplace crackled, casting flickering shadows. I peeled off my soaked trunks in the bathroom mirror, wincing at the red welts on my back—her teeth marks from the peak of it all. She’d bitten down hard, marking me like territory claimed. The sting throbbed, a raw reminder.
“Liam? Need something for that?” Mom called, rummaging in her bag.
“Aloe? Yeah.” I toweled off, pulling on boxers, the fabric rough against tender skin.
She appeared with gel, eyes widening at the marks. “God, I did that? Come here.”
I sat on the edge of her bed—king-sized, sheets still rumpled from our sin. She knelt behind me, cool fingers parting the gel. Touch feather-light at first, then firmer, circling each bite. Goosebumps raced across my flesh. Her breath warm on my neck, vanilla shampoo mingling with her natural musk.
“Sorry,” she murmured, thumb pressing deeper. I hissed, body arching.
“Don’t be. Felt good then.” Honesty slipped out, gravelly.
She chuckled low, vibration humming through her chest to mine. “Primal, huh? Got carried away.”
Her hands wandered lower, tracing my spine. Cock strained against cotton. “Mom—Vivian.”
“Shh.” Palm flattened on my lower back, sliding to hip. “This okay?”
I nodded, pulse thundering. She tugged the waistband down, exposing my ass. Gel-slick fingers kneaded, inching toward the crease. Heat built, raw need uncoiling.
“You taste like salt and storm,” I rasped, remembering her skin under my tongue last night.
She leaned in, lips brushing a mark. “And you… fuck, Liam, you’re solid. Real.”
Dialogue hung crude, hanging between us like smoke. Her hand cupped my balls gently, testing. I groaned, hips bucking. Tension snapped—raw hunger overtook guilt.
I spun, pulling her onto my lap. Towel fell away, revealing full breasts, dark nipples pebbled. I latched on, sucking hard, her gasp filling the room. Taste of salt and aloe flooded my mouth. She ground against my thigh, slickness coating skin.
“We shouldn’t—” she whispered, even as fingers tangled in my hair.
“Too late.” I flipped her down, yanking boxers off. Her opening glistened, inviting. I dove in, tongue plunging deep, lapping her raw essence—tangy, addictive.
She bucked, thighs clamping my head. “Liam! Oh fuck, yes—right there.”
Storm outside mirrored the one building within. Her cries crescendoed, body shuddering as she came, flooding my mouth.
Aftershocks
Panting, she pulled me up, kissing deep—tasting herself on me. “My wild boy.”
We collapsed, limbs entangled, fire popping softly. Vulnerability crept in. “This changes us,” she said, tracing my chest tattoo—a crashing wave.
“For the better?” Hope edged my voice.
She smiled, sleepy. “Maybe.”
Chapter 3: Tide’s Whisper
Dawn broke with clearing skies, sun glinting off tide pools. We walked the private beach, barefoot in sand gritty with shells. Seagulls screeched overhead, ocean roaring endless hunger. Mom—Vivian—in a sarong, wind whipping her black hair, hips swaying hypnotic.
Riley haunted my thoughts briefly—the festival flirt, her red mane and bold grabs at my crotch during the bonfire drum circle. I’d snuck off expecting her, found Vivian instead. Similar builds, both athletic curves. But Vivian’s touch? Softer fire, deeper pull.
“Penny for ’em?” she asked, linking arms. Her skin warm, sun-kissed.
“Riley. Wondered where she crashed after the fest.”
Vivian tensed. “The redhead? Saw you two grinding.”
“Yeah. Thought it was her in the dark cabin.”
She stopped, waves lapping ankles. “Jealous?” Teasing glint.
I pulled her close, salt spray misting faces. “Nah. You eclipsed her. Raw passion like that? Unmatched.”
Lips met, salty kiss deepening. Hands roamed—mine under sarong, fingers finding her heat. Already wet. She moaned into my mouth, stroking my hardness through shorts.
“Here? Risky.” But she dropped to knees, sand sticking to skin. Ocean drowned our sounds as she freed me, mouth engulfing. Hot, wet suction—tongue swirling the head, tasting pre-cum. I threaded fingers in her hair, thrusting gently. Raw vulnerability in her eyes, looking up.
“Fuck, Viv—your mouth’s heaven.”
She hummed, vibrations shooting pleasure spikes. Balls drew tight; I pulled out, hauling her up. Bent her over a driftwood log, sarong hiked. Plunged into her slick warmth—tight, gripping like a vice. Waves crashed timing our rhythm—raw, pounding thrusts slapping skin.
“Harder! Claim me,” she begged, pushing back.
I obliged, hand fisting hair, other spanking her ass red. She shattered first, walls pulsing. I followed, spilling deep with a roar swallowed by surf.
We slumped against wood, breathless. “Raw truth,” I panted. “I want more.”
Her laugh bubbled. “Insatiable. Like your father—minus the asshole.”
Chapter 4: Inferno’s Grip
Afternoon haze settled, cabin windows fogged from our earlier shower escapade. Water had cascaded over us, my soapy hands exploring every curve—fingers plunging her openings front and back, her gasps echoing off tiles. Now, in the loft bedroom, air thick with musk and sweat.
She straddled me on the bed, breasts swaying as she rode slow, teasing. “Feel that? How I take you all?” Voice husky, eyes locked.
“Every inch. Your pussy milks me raw.” I gripped hips, bucking up.
Pace quickened—skin slapping, bed creaking. Her nails dug fresh trails down my chest. Pain bloomed sweet, mixing with ecstasy. Sweat-slick bodies slid, scents intoxicating: her arousal sharp, my musk earthy.
“Tell me you love it,” she demanded, leaning down, nipples grazing lips.
“Love fucking you. Raw, dirty, perfect.” I sucked a nipple, biting gentle.
She ground harder, clit rubbing my base. “Gonna come—fill me!” Orgasm hit her like a freight train—body convulsing, juices soaking us. I flipped her, pounding relentlessly. Vision blurred; release exploded, hot jets painting her depths.
Collapsed, hearts syncing thunderous beats. Fingers intertwined. “Beyond sex,” she whispered. “Connection.”
Guilt flickered—brief shadow. But her smile chased it. Emotional rawness bound us tighter than flesh.
Shadows of Doubt
Evening firelight danced. We sipped wine—hers red as her flushed skin. “What if someone finds out?” Hesitation cracked her voice.
“No one will. This is ours.” I kissed her knuckles, tasting wine and salt.
She nodded, fire reflecting in eyes. “Ours.”
Chapter 5: Vortex Pull
Night fell heavy, stars piercing velvet sky. Another storm brewed distant, lightning flickering horizons. In the kitchenette, she cooked pasta—garlic sizzling, steam rising fragrant. I pressed behind, hands cupping breasts, hardness nestling her ass cleft.
“Dinner first, beast.” Laugh light, but she arched back.
“Starving for you.” Nibbled her neck, inhaling her scent—soap, spice, sex.
She spun, dropping to knees on cool tile. Unzipped me, mouth devouring hungrily. Gagging sounds wet, sloppy—saliva dripping chin. Fingers teased my rim, prostate nudge sending shocks. Raw intensity—eyes watering, yet fierce.
“Viv—fuck!” I gripped counter, legs quaking.
Pulled off, strings of spit connecting. “Your turn.” Bent over table, ass high. I knelt, tongue delving her folds, rimming puckered star. Her flavor exploded—musky tang, addictive.
“Finger it—please.” I slid one, then two, into her ass, other hand fisting her clit. She squirted, drenching face, table slick.
Stood, aligning. “All holes mine?”
“Yes—raw, take it!”
Thrust into pussy first, then switched—tight ring yielding to my girth. Her screams echoed, mixing garlic haze. Alternated until both spasmed, my cum mixing loads deep.
After, on rug, tender licks cleaning us. Vulnerability peaked. “Love you,” she murmured, tears glistening.
“Always.” Emotional flood raw, healing old wounds.
Chapter 6: Eternal Surge 💋
Morning light filtered, cabin hushed post-storm. We packed slow, touches lingering. Beach walk final—hand in hand, waves whispering secrets.
“Riley texted,” I said, phone buzz phantom. “Checked out early. Married, family stuff.”
Vivian smirked. “Dodged bullet. Got treasure instead.”
Car loaded, engine humming homeward. Glances electric, promises unspoken. Last pull-off: roadside overlook, fog rolling. Backseat frenzy—her riding reverse, ass bouncing, my hands everywhere.
“Raw forever?” she gasped, clenching.
“Forever.” Climax synced, world fading to our pulse.
Drive home blurred, bond unbreakable. Guilt? Vanished like mist. Only raw love remained—familial, carnal, profound. The road stretched, our story just beginning. Ocean’s roar echoed in souls, eternal.
