My Mom Told Me To Put It In My Ass While Making Love To My Dad

After college, I hit the road for a year, chasing adventure across the globe. I left behind the quiet, small-town values of my hometown, diving headfirst into the wild energy of places like Amsterdam’s open-minded clubs and the sultry, chaotic charm of Bangkok’s nightlife. I thought I’d seen it all—every thrill, every taboo. But nothing could’ve prepared me for the shock waiting back home.

When I stepped off the plane, Mom was there, looking like she’d turned back time. Her hug lingered, warm and tight, and I swear I felt the soft press of her curves against me. She was glowing, her body toned from hours at the gym, her face somehow smoother than I remembered. Dad looked good too, his dark hair flecked with silver, a quiet confidence in his grin. They both seemed… different. Happier. Closer.

It didn’t take long to figure out why. The air in the house crackled with something electric, like they’d rediscovered each other while I was gone. Their glances, their touches—it was like they were newlyweds again. And, damn, it got to me in ways I wasn’t ready to admit. After all my wild nights abroad, here I was, back in my childhood bedroom, locking the door to take care of the ache they stirred up. Some nights, I’d wake up hard and restless, my dreams too filthy to shake.

One night, I jolted awake from a dream so vivid I could still taste it. Sleep wasn’t happening, so I slipped out for a glass of water. But as I padded down the hall, I froze. Their bedroom door was ajar, and there they were—Mom, bare and beautiful, moving on top of Dad with a rhythm that made my pulse race. They didn’t notice the open door, too lost in each other, their bodies locked in a primal dance.

I should’ve turned away. I know that. But I couldn’t. My hand slipped into my boxers, stroking the growing heat as I watched Mom’s curves sway, her full breasts bouncing with every thrust. I’d seen plenty in my travels, but nothing hit me like this. Her soft moans, the way she arched into Dad—it was raw, real, and it had me hooked. I didn’t mean to make a sound, but a low groan slipped out.

Mom’s eyes flicked up, catching mine in the dim light. She didn’t stop moving, but a slow, knowing smile curved her lips. “Don’t just stand there, sweetheart,” she murmured, her voice like honey. “Come join us.”

My brain short-circuited. Did she just…? No way. But then she said it again, softer, sweeter. “Come on, baby. Let me help you with that.”

I was half-convinced I was still dreaming as I stepped into their room, my boxers hitting the floor somewhere along the way. Dad glanced up, his grin easy and welcoming, like this was the most normal thing in the world. “Go for it, son,” he said, his voice rough with pleasure. “She loves it from both ends.”

My head spun, but my body knew what it wanted. I’d learned a few tricks in my travels—nights in Osaka with women who taught me how to take my time, how to make it good. So I didn’t rush. I knelt behind Mom, my hands tracing her hips, my lips brushing the soft skin of her lower back. I teased her with slow, deliberate licks, easing her open with care until she was trembling, her breath hitching.

When I finally pressed myself inside her, slow and steady, she let out a sound that sent a jolt straight through me. It was tight, hot, and so damn right. Dad kept moving beneath her, and the three of us found a rhythm, like we’d been doing this forever. Mom’s gasps filled the room, her body shuddering as she came, her nails digging into Dad’s chest.

“God, yes,” she breathed, turning to look at me, her eyes wild and bright. “Don’t stop, baby. I want you everywhere.”

Dad chuckled, his thrusts slowing as he kissed her deep. “Told you she’s insatiable,” he said to me, and I couldn’t help but laugh. This was my parents—my straitlaced, small-town parents—showing me a side I never could’ve imagined.

When they both came, it was like a dam breaking—Mom’s cries, Dad’s low growl, the way their bodies shook together. I eased out, letting them catch their breath, but Mom wasn’t done. She reached for me, her hand wrapping around me, keeping me hard. “Your turn,” she whispered, pulling me into a kiss that was all heat and hunger. It wasn’t a mother-son kiss—it was raw, desperate, and it lit me up.

Dad watched, stroking himself back to life as I moved between Mom’s thighs. Her skin was slick with sweat, her body open and ready. I didn’t hesitate—I sank into her, groaning at how perfectly she fit around me. She urged me on, her words dirty and sweet, her hips meeting every thrust. When I reached for her breasts, kneading the soft weight of them, she moaned like I’d unlocked something deep inside her.

It didn’t take long for the pressure to build, my whole body tensing as I pushed her toward another peak. Dad slid closer, feeding himself into her mouth, and the sight of her taking us both sent me over the edge. I came hard, spilling into her as she shuddered beneath me, her own release pulling me even deeper. Dad wasn’t far behind, his groans mixing with hers as she swallowed him down.

The next morning, Dad headed to work, leaving Mom and me alone. She brought me coffee in bed, her robe slipping open as she climbed in beside me. “Ready for round two?” she teased, and before I could answer, she was on me, her body warm and eager. We spent the day like that, lost in each other, until Dad got home and Mom pounced on him too. I drifted off that night to the sound of their laughter and moans from the living room, a smile on my face.

Five years later, I’m married to Lena, who’s just as open as the rest of us. She found out about our family dynamic at our wedding, walking in on me and Mom in a heated moment while Dad watched. Instead of freaking out, Lena hiked up her dress and joined in, letting Dad take her right there on the dresser. It was wild, perfect, and so her.

Now, we all share this unspoken rhythm—swapping, playing, loving in a way that feels right for us. Lena and Mom get along like sisters, and Dad’s always got a grin for me, like he’s proud we’ve built this together. It’s unconventional, sure, but it’s ours, and I wouldn’t trade it for anything.