Date My Mom is a steamy tale of interracial passions where an apparently respectable married middle-aged woman becomes obsessively entwined with her daughter’s black boyfriend, and everybody’s lives are changed forever. A dark tale of erotically perverted passions!
Often things are never quite as they appear. A seemingly demure, pretty, contented housewife and a wonderful marriage is sometimes just a façade. So it is for Emmy, on the surface, the perfect wife to Bailey, her younger husband, and mother to teenage Summer. Emmy is apparently settled, domesticated and looks to the outside world as though butter would never melt in her innocent mouth. But it had, many times when she had been younger and wilder, and behind her everyday homeliness there is a suppressed sexual part of her that has lain dormant for far too long. It may have remained that way forever, but for a stupid, puerile suggestion from her husband, who seems to be increasingly and noticeably consumed by his own dark desires. The proposal he makes seems innocuous, but involves Summer’s new, strong, handsome, black boyfriend and from the first mention of the idea, all of their lives are rapidly changed almost without them realising what is happening.
Emilia Blythe is the new up and coming star in erotic fiction; her genre of middle aged women dealing with their lives and sexuality is becoming an unmissable, erotic event and treat. Take a step inside her perverted world and find out what really goes on behind closed doors!
I loved to brush my hair; especially in long, hard, firm strokes right before I went to bed at night.
It was blonde and straight but if I was honest, my adornment was not as natural and bright a colour as it appeared; it was in truth a little deeper and darker than that, just like I was I suppose!
I seemed as though I was the wholesome, perfect middle aged, happy wife and I supposed in many ways I was, but like most of the women I had known, I was not quite as I seemed.
I had a chequered, promiscuous past, a daughter out of wedlock when I had been, but a mere child myself.
From that point in my life it had been an ongoing struggle to keep my daughter, and then provide for her through unimaginable, hardship and poverty.
My own family was never that supportive.
When I first met my husband Bailey Nailson, I always knew from the beginning that he was never really my type; he was somewhat immature and over 5 years younger than I was.
He was eternally shy, somewhat insipid, with a thin, pale face and unspectacular, lean physique, but he had silky, black hair, sparkling brown eyes and was, in his own unique way, quite handsome.
The most irresistible part about Bailey, and I say this with some confessed shame, as I never set out in my life to be mercenary; the young man was spectacularly rich and fortunately for me, seemed to love me from almost the very first time we had met.
On that basis, and the fact I had a child in tow he adored immediately as well and was willing to take on with me, we became an item, got engaged quickly and wed soon afterwards.
I mean, given the dire straights I was in, how could I resist him or refuse his proposal of marriage!
From the moment we formally pledged our lives in the quaint, historic, white washed, local church, some 9 years ago, life for me and my lovely daughter, Summer, was transformed.
I therefore appreciated and treasured my husband every day for the privileged existence we now led and what he so generously and lovingly provided for us.
My pretty offspring, looked like me, but her hair was actually more spectacularly blonde than mine was; she had just turned 18 and was enrolled at the local High where she was in her final year before university.
Bailey doted on her as he did on me, and we had grown extremely close as a family over our time together, although my daughter sometimes became a little irritated and frustrated at some of my husband’s unique and somewhat ongoing, unusual habits and obsessions.
Thankfully she most certainly did not know them all!
Bailey to his credit and my eternal gratitude tried to become so involved in her life, always wanting to see her looking lovely and taking almost religious interests with her social development and early boyfriends.
I always enjoyed a very honest and intimate relationship with my daughter; in many ways we were more like sisters and I always encouraged her to have an open attitude to boys and sex, in particular.
I discussed everything with her and ensured that she was on the pill from the earliest stage of her teenage life.
She therefore spoke and confided to me about pretty much everything, as girls in general tend to do.
I was determined that there was no way she was going to make the same early, stupid mistakes in her life as I had!
I was therefore aware that she had lost her virginity some time ago and happily for me, now seemed confident, experienced, mature and eminently capable of looking after herself.
However, Bailey was somewhat of an innocent, did not have the inside track or privilege to my girl’s personal, sexual secrets and, bless him, still thought my darling daughter was an untouched virgin….
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