Chapter 1: Roommates' Dirty Secrets

"Dude, Alex, you're killing me here," Jake laughed, slapping a cold beer into my hand as we sprawled across the dingy bunks in our Riverside Trade School dorm. The room reeked of stale pizza and cheap cologne, posters of half-naked models peeling off the walls. "Virgin at twenty? With that smoking hot mom of yours? Come on, spill it. Elena Thompson—top-tier lawyer babe, D-cups for days, ass like a fitness model. Bet you've jerked off to her panties more times than you've aced a quiz."

I choked on the beer, heat rushing to my face. "Shut up, Jake. She's my mom, not some porn star. And yeah, the school's a shithole—bunch of high school dropouts like us, parents buying our way through with cash. But Elena? She's the real deal. Single since Dad died, fights for the little guy in court, invests like a boss. We don't need this crap."

Across the room, Tyler leaned back, his new Mustang keys dangling from his fingers. Already owned a condo in some podunk town two hours away, courtesy of Daddy's real estate gigs. "Listen, pretty boy," he drawled, cracking open his laptop to some sketchy site. "Me? Bagged three chicks last weekend. One had tits bigger than your mom's—sorry, not sorry—and her pussy was dripping like a faucet when I slammed my nine-incher home. She begged like a bitch in heat. You need this, Alex. We're taking you out Friday. Strip club, guaranteed lays."

Marcus nodded from his bed, scrolling nudes on his phone. "Tyler's right. Your mom's got those long legs, killer feet—bet she rocks stilettos in court. But ethics? Fuck that. I saw her pick you up last week in that tight skirt. You're wasting prime cock, man. One night, and you'll forget Mommy dearest."

My stomach twisted. They'd seen her—everyone had. Elena, 5'10" like me but legs that went forever, porcelain skin, those perfect little feet I'd stared at since puberty hit. I'd raided her hamper more times than I could count, wrapping her silk stockings around my dick while fantasizing about pinning her down, fucking her raw. But say that out loud? No way. She was iron-fisted, raised me right—no clubs, no hookers. Knew I'd gone off the rails after Dad, grades tanked, barely scraped a 400 on SATs. She shelled out for this dump, planning to slot me into her firm post-grad. Stocks would've covered me fine, but no dice.

"Fuck off," I snapped, shoving the beer aside. "Elena's no joke. She'd break my legs if she knew I even thought about that shit. I'm good."

Jake grinned wider, leaning in like he smelled blood. "Thought about it? Bro, you've done more than think. We found your stash—her lacy shit under your mattress. Admit it, you want to rail her. Mom-son taboo? Hottest porn genre. Imagine bending her over the kitchen counter, those lawyer heels still on, while she moans 'Alex, we can't—oh God, harder!'"

"Guys, drop it," I growled, heart pounding. Tyler's eyes lit up—he'd hit a nerve.

"Nah," Tyler pushed. "Friday. Or we tell Elena ourselves. 'Hey, Mrs. T, your boy's a panty-sniffer.' Bet she'd punish you good."

The room went electric, their laughs echoing. I clenched my fists. Say no, and they might actually do it. Say yes, and cross a line Elena would never forgive. My phone buzzed—her text: Home late. Dinner? Perfect timing. The fantasy flickered: her in the shower, steam on those curves. But out loud? "Fine. One night. But shut your mouths about her."

Jake high-fived Tyler. "That's our boy. Game-changer incoming."

Sophomore fall semester had just tipped into something dangerous. Little did I know, it was about to shatter everything with Mom.