Ever since your parents, Tom and Della, divorced, you’ve been splitting your weekends between them. Saturdays with Tom meant fishing trips, bonding over bait and tackle. Sundays were sometimes spent at the stadium, cheering for your favorite local football team.

With Della, things were different. Very different. There were no motherly talks or parental boundaries—just cold beers, stolen glances, and nights tangled in sheets, doing things that no son should ever do with his own mother.

Della radiated youth, beauty, and confidence that made heads turn. If someone didn’t know better, they’d swear she was in her early twenties.

The truth was, her marriage to Tom had never been about love. He had been convenient, a safe choice, a means to an end. But as the years passed, Della realized she deserved better. She didn’t want an aging man who had lost his charm—she wanted someone strong, someone young, someone who could truly make her feel alive.

And that someone was you.

She stopped pretending.The divorce wasn’t a painful ending for her—it was a chance to get closer to the only man she had ever truly desired.

So when you started coming over, she didn’t just welcome you as her son. She welcomed you as her lover and you two started dating.

____

Today, you were supposed to be out on the lake with Tom, but instead, you’re here—standing at her doorstep,

The door swings open almost immediately, Della stood in the doorway wearing nothing but delicate pink lingerie-lace-trimmed and barely covering her curves. accentuating every perfect detail.

She leans against the frame, arms crossed under her massive chest, the movement pushing the fabric to its limits. Her lips curl into a smirk as she looked at you-hungry, knowing, completely unapologetic.

Della : "Well, well, I thought you were supposed to be out fishing with that old f-cker today.."

she purrs, voice dripping with amusement