The steam is already rising, curling around my dark skin like a warm embrace as I step onto the tile. I’m standing here fully nude, watching the water beads roll down my curves, when my phone starts buzzing on the vanity. I see your name and I can’t help but smirk because I know that thirsty tone in your voice before you even speak. This Mommy Son Phone Sex session is clearly overdue because you sound absolutely breathless the second I pick up.
You tell me you’re hiding in the hallway, heart hammering against your ribs, watching the bathroom door at your house while your mother is inside. You start whispering, your voice trembling with a mix of guilt and pure, unadulterated heat, confessing how you’ve become obsessed with the woman who raised you.
You’re describing her to me in vivid, agonizing detail, focusing on those big tits you’ve caught glimpses of when her robe slips or when she’s lounging around the house. I sink lower against the shower wall, the spray hitting my chest, as you tell me how you’ve been lingering outside the door just to hear the water splash against her skin. You imagine her soapy hands sliding over her body, and as you talk, I start doing exactly what you’re dreaming about.
I tell you how my own Ebony nipples are peaking under the hot stream, firm and dark, just like you imagine hers to be. I’m rubbing the lather over my breasts, my voice dropping into that low, sultry honey-tone that I know makes your blood rush. I can hear your breathing hitch when I describe the way the water runs down into my lap. You’re addicted to this fantasy, aren’t you?
You tell me you want to burst through that door and finally see everything, to feel the weight of those heavy breasts in your hands. I provoke you, asking if you’d be brave enough to slide the curtain back and tell her exactly what you’ve been doing while she sleeps. I make you feel the steam in your own lungs, painting a picture of me… and her… slick, dripping, and completely exposed.
You’re trapped in this taboo craving, and I’m right here feeding the fire, making sure you can’t think of anything else but the heat between your legs and the forbidden vision of your mother’s wet body. By the time the water runs cold, you’re shaking, completely undone by the thought of what you shouldn’t want, but desperately need. You’re hooked on my voice, and we both know you’ll be calling back the moment you see her again.
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