I wake up the next morning alone in bed wondering if all of this was some kind of depraved dream. Am I just back at my apartment? I rub my eyes and see that I am indeed in my mother's room. My pants and shirt are not on the floor by the bed where I put them. I smell bacon and pancakes being cooked and hear my mom softly singing to herself. Maybe this all really was a dream? My own mother couldn't have really sucked me off last night.
"Steven," my mother says opening the door wearing only panties and an apron. "Breakfast will be ready soon. I washed your clothes also, honey."
"Uhm, okay, thanks," I say and she sets my clean clothes down on her dresser. "I put chocolate chips in the pancakes because I know they're your favorite."
"Thank you so much, mom,"
She walks away and as she turns
