The door slammed against the doorframe, then fell off its hinges. The door screws were small and made out of cheap balsa wood; just painted to look like metal. Steve looked down in disgust. Principal Lewis's house was a mess. There were open cans of half eaten food everywhere, used condoms littered the rug, and what looked like a monkey was duct taped to the ceiling.
Steve yelped when he stepped on something sharp. He leaned down and squinted. Now that he had changed to contact lenses he was able to ditch the nerd glasses.
"Is… Why are there exposed nails in the floor? Did you nail these in upside down?" Steve asked the large scary black man who stood over him holding a belt and a frown.
"They were free! And where else am I supposed to store free nails? Now shut your ass up and get outside! Why did you even come in?"
"You… You asked me to. You specifically asked me to walk inside. You had something to show me?" Steve seriously wondered if the people in his life were just insane.
"That doesn't sound like me. Now, march honky!" Steve started for the door, careful to avoid more nails. Lewis had no such qualms. He marched leaving a trail of bloody footprints behind him. Lewis's absolutely massive man-meat bounced like a mound from beneath his enormous belly. His sausage sized slam-bam-thank-you-ma'am was shoved into a purple tiger print speedo. His greasy hairy balls bounced like magnets.
"I get why I'm in a swimsuit, but why are you in one?" Steve asked as they went to the front yard and around the side. Principal Lewis cracked the back of Steve's head with his right hand, his ring hand. His heavy gold coated ring hand.
"How about you shut the fuck up?" Lewis responded as they rounded the corner, the sting of his bitch-slap sending Steve reeling. The lad's eyes came to focus on the prized jewel of Lewis' life, which sat nonchalantly in his backyard.
"Woah," Steve gasped, "is that a 1979 Dodge Challenger?"
Lewis went to raise his hand again, preparing for a slap, but halted. "It is… You a car guy, Smith? A little miscreant like you, I bet you're all about destroying them, aren't you?"
Lewis waddled to the front of the car, took a deep squat, and inhaled the scent of the automobile. He laid a kiss upon the headlights, and lowered his voice, glowering at Steve.
"You think you're the big man on campus now, I get that, but that is a title, and one oft-challenged," he bellowed, rising to tower above Steve, "whether or not I like it, you're dragging down Miss Ling by being near her. Did you know she once saved a litter of puppies from a puppy-crushing machine when she was only five?"
Steve blinked - what the fuck was a puppy-crushing machine? Who would make that? What use would it have? How could a five year old stop it? The more he heard about Fran-girl, the more he wanted to know the truth, and how these lies were invented and spread so quickly.
"Miss Ling needs an alpha male, and it's important for you to see one in his natural environment! Being near one raises the testosterone levels of lesser males, you see, and you are one of the first males to look upon my home. My home contains my den, and my love, my one true love…"
"...The Challenger," Steve nodded. The alpha-male nonsense was bullshit. Wolves studied in isolation and all that. All Steve cared about right now was how roughly he could've been fucking his own mom. "I'll give her the best clean I can, then."
"You'll do no such thing, fool!" Lewis punctuated with another slap, one that Steve took without a sound, just a grimace. "From every window in the house you can see her, my Challenger, so your punishment is to clean every room, top to bottom, to get a load of an alpha-male stank! Hopefully by some point you'll have enough Tee in you to disappoint Miss Ling on a date night."
"Jesus Brian," Steve shook his head, sneering in disgust, "if the stank keeps the real ladies away it's no wonder you've got the hots for your car!"
A black fist then met Steve's pale white jaw, knocking him flat on the ground. Lewis placed his foot on the lads chest, looking as grim as midnight.
"Just for that, you can enjoy mowin' the lawn and picking the weeds too. Watch out for the needles, 'coz Brian Lewis is hitting the town, wimp! Haha!"
Steve coughed as Brian strutted off into the afternoon sun, a proud jiggle to his speedo-locked bits and pieces. The Challenger was left, undercover but open to the street, perhaps protected by Lewis' lingering aura of insanity. No clue when he'd be back, Steve slowly rose from the ground, ears keen to the sound of pink heels plinking on the ground.
"Bye, Principal Lewis," Francine waved, her bright smile turning dastardly as she approached her pookie-bear, cupping his cheeks and giving them a kiss. "And hello handsome. Did you pick that speedo out for yourself, hm?"
God be praised, the woman was still in her school uniform. But underneath Steve could see a hot pink bra, the kind that provided no support and no coverage, seeking only to tantalise. He hugged her tight, hands digging possessively into her firm, jiggly ass.
Steve smiled, happy to see her, and to ditch this joint, "I got it from my mama. Heh. But seriously, you picked this out for me at a formative age and that was super weird. But, like, hot now. Anyways, are we off on a date, or…"
"Not so fast, pookie-bear," Fran-girl chuckled. "You've been given punishment and I'm here to make sure you get it done, sir!"
Steve blinked again, adjusting a contact that felt just a little loose. "Are you… Is this another bit? Aww, c'mon, Fran-girl, Lewis is a psycho! I could just lie and say I cleaned and he wouldn't know the difference!"
Francine just sighed and led Steve back into the house, arms splayed at the pigsty before her. "You got the lesson on control, taking what you want. But pookie-bear, now you gotta learn the lesson on intel. Lewis may not be enemy number one, but he's a big dog at Pearl Bailey, and you wanna get back at him, right?"
Steve nodded, "of course, but-"
"-That psycho has given you free reign to look around his house, find his valuables, then fuck him with them!" She whispered, "not like, fuck-fuck, but-'
"-I get," Steve stammered, "I get the concept, Fran-girl. Alright. Jeez, I'll clean his house. Ugh, smells like death itself died here!"
"I mean, if that's not enough motivation," Francine giggled, "then for every room you clean, I lose some clothes."
That inspired Steve. He went to work, a blush on his cheeks and a throb in his speedos, showing off the work he'd been putting into his thighs and glutes. His arms, still scrawny, were getting there, and his abs weren't bad either. Francine sighed, content, sneering as she took in the room for real.
"Yeah, but also disinfect the couch before we fuck on it," she kicked it with her heel, "I think it's alive."
Steve worked in a flash, flush with heat and sweat and the burning lust he had for his Fran-girl. The work was gross, a little dangerous, and the bare nails all over the place didn't help. Steve gagged on the disgusting rotting garbage more than once.
"This is like the lamest edition of Hoarders I've ever seen." Steve grabbed another trash bag full of loose bricks and tossed it on the growing pile out by the curb. There were also three washing machines. None of them worked, all of them had been in the dining room.
Steve snorted in annoyance. Not a single thing here was even remotely blackmail worthy! All of this only proved that Lewis was a crappy person and a borderline criminal. Which everyone knew already.
The danger of the principal was how open he was. Everyone knew he was an amoral psychopath with deep connections to every single major criminal enterprise on the eastern seaboard. So what was there to blackmail about him? His sexual perversions? His drug use? His rampant lack of firearm safety?
Steve walked back in with a sigh. The house was looking slightly better. The living room looked less like a trap house and more like a fucked up frat house. Steve cracked his back and walked to the bathroom. Oddly enough this was probably the one place that wasn't a complete shit hole. Steve rapidly showered off some of the grosser parts of the house, the black mould on his arms quickly disappearing down the drain.
Steamed, cleaned, and hot off the taps, he stepped out of the shower and pushed his hair out of his eyes. He had to admit, he looked good with a bit of TLC. His mom might be right, he could have any girl he wanted in school soon!
But he mostly just wanted Akiko… Mostly. He loved Fran-girl. Her body was made for sex. Her libido was unchallenged, her personality, so bouncy and carefree, it was infectious… But he still wanted to make Akiko his special gal. Maybe if he tried really hard he could–
He stumbled over his mom's button up white shirt. It had been left on the floor. Next he found her pencil skirt hung on the doorknob. The back door was open.
"Oh Stevie-stud," a familiar voice trilled from the backyard. Steve's erection instantly popped out of the top of his thong-like swimsuit. He jogged through the house, still mindful of the nailfield and popped out the back.
And there she was.
In all her blonde bimbo bombshell glory, decked out in a pink microkini, her ass cheeks fully on display, her massive melons making mountains out of her swimsuit top. Her nipples were making tents, really straining the material to the very limit. At any moment they might've just popped. The high heels were the sexy cherry on top of the cheesecake sundae that was his insanely breedable mommy.
"Humina humina humina, boner!" Steve whimpered in delight. He skipped down the steps, across the grass, and buried his face in her cleavage. He motorboated the tits without a second thought. His tongue popped out and he drooled shamelessly over her sweet succulent skin. She was wearing a bronzer and smelled of sweet perfume. The lilac kind you could only buy at the fancy store downtown. (You know the one we're referring to.)
"Mummy? Can I have a piece of candy mummy? Can I have a chunk of chocolate? I've been a good boy. I've been a good good boy mummy." Steve mumbled into her tits, his British accent coming out. He gripped her firm perky butt cheeks and gave them cheeky squeezes, his fingernails leaving little half moons in each ass. As if to claim her as his own.
"Mmmm. I don't want a good boy, only bad boys. Good little boys might get candy. But bad little boys get pie," she whispered huskily into his ear. The double entendre was not lost on the little nerd. He grinned. He brought his hand back and slammed it hard against her ass cheek, Francine letting out a glorified little yelp and shivering. Her pussy lips already soaking through her suit bottoms.
"Oh I'm not after any pie today, sweet-cheeks. When I have all of this cake to play with? I'm going to go at it harder then a baker in an all-you-can-fuck bakery." The metaphor might have fallen flat but the blonde babe was too delighted by his needy fingers to care.
"Ooooh~, I like it when you talk like that stud! How about you take me over to that big fancy car and rearrange my guts on the hood?" Steve stiffened. His mind seized. His entire life he had been told he had to be a good boy. For himself, for his friends, for his parents, so that he wouldn't embarrass his Dad, so that he wouldn't shame his school, so that he could go far and get into a good college and become a functioning member of society who contributed meaningfully.
But where had that gotten him? Kicked in the balls. Pantsed. Wet-willied. Dry-willied, as previously established. Noogied. Pantsed. Called every homophobic slur in and out of the book. Pantsed. Screamed at by everyone he ever came into contact with. Molested by his alien house mate. And pantsed. But now? Now he was being told to fuck on a car. On the big fancy car.
On the big fancy car that was his principal's pride and joy.
Could Steve really put aside his own principles and go into his principals shag-wagon and fuck the woman of his dreams in there? Sure she also happened to be the woman who had raised him, given birth to him, breastfed him well into his teenage years, and called him a pathetic waste of sperm cells and eggs… But that wasn't important right now.
"How about this," Steve swept her off her feet. Francine gave a little shocked gasp. Her high heels kicked out as he walked confidently to the car. He slapped her down onto the hood, her ass cheeks denting the fine expensive metal. She gulped, her heart was beating a mile a minute. Her thighs rubbed together needfully. Her eyes were filled with stars. Then she smirked lecherously.
Steve grabbed her legs and spread them. A little white powder drifted across their knuckles and thighs. Steve licked his off. Francine rubbed her fingers against the red exterior. She felt like she was back in her cocaine days. When lust was wild and love making was the norm.
She sniffed the powder, she didn't detect anything like columbian bam-bam, or heroin, or fentanyl, or baby powder, it might have been dried up pollen. She rubbed her fingers over her lips. No numbness, so it was probably nothing.
Steve fished his balls from his speedo, tossing the sweaty pair away, then cracked his cock right in between her legs. She gasped. The metal rang, hollow and powerful, like hammering a bell. His dense fuck stick stuck then rubbed needily against her thighs. Sniffing eagerly, a blood hound on the search for a good fuck.
"I'm going to fuck you. I might not have found dick-all in Lewis's crib. But I am going to dick down your pussy-mansion until you can't walk, think, or dream about anything outside of my horsecock. Sound alright Fran-girl? Or should I call you Miss Ling?"
"Bitch you can call me Akiko. Or your personal cumdump. I just want you to drain those thick hot heavy cum tanks deep inside of me. My womb is aching for it, so you better fuck me up good!" She wrapped her arms around the back of his neck and brought him in for the deepest hardest most luxurious love filled French kiss of his life up to that moment.
Steve's ass cheeks clenched and his entire body went rigid. He let out a breathless little giggle and wiggled in her grip. He then hooked his thumbs underneath her thong and slipped it off with a flourish, balling them then thinking of just flicking them away. He then got a better idea.
The kiss ended with a very loud pop. Francine took a deep breath only for her thong to be shoved into her mouth. She did a double take as the offending garment ballooned out her cheeks. She frowned in irritation. Steve kissed her forehead like she was a child having a tantrum.
"Now now, Miss Ling… This is because you gotta know what you taste like!" He then kissed her neck. Her shoulders. Her tits. Her stomach. And found himself between her legs. His tongue was long and powerful, like a clarinet players. He dove in excitedly. Exploring the cunt that had expelled him into this rotten world so long ago.
Her moans were loud and low. Her ankles rested on his upper back. His hands gripped her hips, forcing her to stay in place. She flung herself backwards. Arching her back, her toes curled, her eyes rolling like marbles in a blender. Her womb felt like his tongue was flicking it! Her entire body was filled with sparkling tingles of unimaginable joy. With these feelings pumping through her she gripped her bikini top and yanked it off.
She spun the piece of cloth around her middle finger and then tossed it over her shoulder. She giggled as her son's eager tongue made mince meat out of her mommy-mound. His shoulders were pressed firmly against her thighs, keeping her legs nice and spread. His nose dove against her freshly waxed pussy.
Her toes pointed and she bit into her bikini bottoms all the harder. The flavor of her own cunt was hot on her lips. Her tongue poked out hotly between her lips as she made a gyration, a signal to Steve to get him to look up. She winked, and he smiled, eyes alight with a gently-drugged inferno that was ready to burn something down.
Francine knew too well what men liked; and her son was simply more than a man. All men liked big titties and asses; but her son liked them huge. All men loved cute girls, but Steve could only accept the best (minus Akiko). And even if everyone knew all porn was acted and hammy, Francine still displayed herself as if she were on camera. More than a mom, or a lover, at that moment during sex she was an interactive porn-piece for her pussy-starved paramour.
Of course the gentle tingling in her fingers certainly helped with that; it was way easier to act she found, when there was a strange cocktail of narcotics and stimulants currently blood-fucking her nervous system. Her moans were only faked to start, though, she found herself gasping and catching her breath as Steve's tongue lavished her leaking lips, the shared taste of pussy between them a syncing anchor. Kept steady by his hands, the hot, warping hood of the car, and the kissing, setting sun, Francine steadied herself with a deep breath.
And then Steve realised.
"This stupid thing," he mumbled, gently propping Francine's legs up on the hood, heels scratching at the cherry-red paint-job, "of course!"
Delirious, eyes wide and pupils getting wider, Francine squeaked in fear as Steve performed a 3-foot leap, ending in a low squat with a loud bang! She clutched her hand to her chest and looked on at her glowing, golden boy as he shimmered under the carport's shade, a blush rushing back to her cheeks. Steve nestled his cock between her sopping folds and began humping, just hotdogging her horny hole - with a knowing smile.
"Louis doesn't give a shit about anything other than this," Steve chuckled. "This car was the blackmail. And you, momma, you just wanted to see me sweat before we fucked, am I right?"
Francine nodded.
"Clever girl," Steve sang, sinking his throbbing cock deep inside his own mother; harder than steel and hotter than hell, letting the salty sweetness drip from his hardening body onto Francine's perfect form. To hell with the on-lookers in this shady-ass neighbourhood, Steve wasn't just going to rearrange his girl's guts, he was gonna move in!
With her legs lifted higher and her ass firmly seated on the hood, Francine laid there and took all her boy could give her and more, weakly and meekly dangling her arms from his sweaty, sunburnt back. With every hump the hood honked, the metal creaking and squeaking to hide the god-awful sounds of incestual lovemaking from the rest of the street.
"Look at me," Steve commanded, shifting Fran-girl's gaze with one hand, pushing her cheeks together for a sloppy kiss, "I love you. I love you, Fran-girl!"
He was foot-deep inside her cunt, back to where he came from, and already firing his hot seed inside her, cumming without a care. Even normally her boy could go for rounds but Francine could only barely comprehend how long they'd last on this high. She went to say 'I love you' back, but secretly suspected she only half-mumbled a cock-drunk whimper in response.
"Attagirl!" Steve moaned as he extracted himself from the hot vice of Fran-girl's gushing pussy, stepping off the hood of the car and gently pulling Francine to her feet. He shifted her, pointed at the hood, and smiled, holding their naked, heaving bodies close together as he gently pat-slapped her ass.
"Look at that," he whispered in her ear, making her already wobbling knees cave, holding her gently, "he's never gonna get rid of that dent. That's me and you, mom."
Francine was already melting into Steve's arms, but a spirited jolt of energy was slapped into her, booty first. She hugged her boy tight, gasping and shivering as his tongue lapped up the sweat between her tits, eyes darting between herself and the car. On the hood was the perfect imprint of her asscheeks, and in the middle of them, Steve's fat cock, veins and all. She likened it to caveman etchings of fertility gods and goddesses.
Lord knew she felt like one then. The way her son caressed her, felt her, explored her body and left his mark with his tongue, lashing love and liquid lust upon her lovely flesh. Before she could suggest, motion, or further her plans to shatter Akiko's mind, body and spirit, Steve guided her by a hand on the back of her head, and bent her over, through the driver's-side window of the car.
"Hluh?" Francine wondered aloud as Steve's fingers hooked into her mouth and spread her cheeks apart, cautiously eyeing the interior of Lewis' car. With no free hands to slap her ass, Steve instead reared his hips back, down, then up, helicoptering his cock to slam against Fran-girl's cheeks, an open-mouthed moan coming from her.
"Drool, spit, anything nasty you can think of," he ordered her, aiming his aching prick against her puckered asshole, "we're gonna fuck up and ruin this thing's interior!"
Francine loosened herself, but was not prepared, brain melting the second she felt her ass stretch to accommodate that white python. She held onto the car seat, letting her sweat drip onto the fine leather, and steadied herself against that anal assault, mindlessly moaning. She sucked in hissed breaths through gritted teeth, feeling her cheeks and asscheeks strain as they were stretched, but did as her man commanded, lolling her tongue out and her eyes backwards, drooling like a braindead slut.
"This ass is mine!"
Steve roared that for the both of them, but he knew all of her was his. He rested his head against the roof of the car as he felt those fat cheeks clap against his groin, their slaps bounding off the carport walls and spilling into the street. His nuts were on fire and his skin felt like lightning; it was only natural to let their cum and spit bring that elemental slurry into balance.
He felt no prouder and no stronger; no more like a man (even if he cared for traditions of manhood) when he was inside his mom. (The weird drugs on the car was playing absolute havoc with his system.) She who raised him now came under him, squirting a jetting spray of pussy-juice and son-cum from her bred cunt against the hot concrete, ruining her heels. When he came then, it was no flood; simply a few hard-earned pumps of liquid Steve, hot and ready for his mommy.
"Fuck," the pair whimpered together, Steve manhandling his mom and slipping her out of the car, cracking the door open and ushering her back in. "C'mon, mom!"
Francine wanted to ask 'why the rush?' but her freshly-fucked brain could only form some nothing-words. She obeyed her son's command and gingerly crouched in the car, letting her defiled ass and pussy spill themselves all over the interior. Spit on the leather, sweat on the console, and now, freshly-squeezed jizz on the dashboard. In car circles, this was known as 'the Japanese makeover'.
The interior was dark, and a few degrees hotter than outside. Their breaths were hotter than hell and only getting harder to heave, but Fran's hot hunk got in and slammed the door shut behind him, propping a leg up on the dashboard. Looking like a sweaty nerd-Adonis, Francine wasted no time, pushing her tits forward and taking in his manhood. Steve readily bunched her long, beautiful, sweat-matted hair and held it high, using his other leg to press against her head, pushing her further down onto his cock.
"I wanna breathe you in," Steve huffed, like a horse-cocked bull, chest pumped as he locked eyes with his love. "We left our mark, momma, now we're gonna leave our stank."
To accentuate his words, Steve's cock flash-hardened, then erupted it's load between Francine's lips. Before she could speak in protest her cheeks and throat flooded with cum; some firing out her nose as she coughed and sputtered, trying desperately to breathe against the twelve-inch rod in her mouth. Steve stroked her cheek and she calmed, ready to be taken by him, over and over again.
She pulled her son's cock from her lips, gave it a lingering kiss, and remarked on the intense flavours of her own insides, dreamily staring between her boy and his pulsing people-pleaser. A brief moment of clarity came to her mind, and she eyed the clock on the dashboard.
"Destroy me."
1:18 PM
Francine sat in Steve's lap - unable to get a good, wide spread of herself, but crumbled anyways, bouncing on his cock as cum oozed from her ass. He held her, smacked her cheeks raw and red, and kissed her neck, releasing himself only after she had fallen into his arms, sweaty and powerless.
2:32 PM
There were no needles, beer bottles, broken things of any kind, only a flawless, pristine finish on the back seat. It made sense to fuck there too. Steve laid against Francine's back, pressing her firmly into the cushions as she bit down hard, ass wobbling with each furious thrust from her beau's hips. It was there that Steve buried his nose into her neck, every single breath scattering against her hot skin, inhaling her scent.
5:45 PM
He sat, and she knelt, legs spread across the backseat divider as she simply stared up at her son, taking soft slap after slap to her face. Every lift of Steve's cock and every drop was underscored by the thick webbing of cum trailing between them both, coating Francine. Beyond it, they stared into each other's eyes with nothing but love, even as Steve spat on her. His cum, his spit, her sweat and her makeup ran together in a pure concoction, one made of utter sin.
"I love you," he said, with a smile.
"Uh lub yoo too pookie!"
6:00 PM
Steam rose as the car door opened, Francine's now-useless legs flopping out of the vehicle, followed shortly by Steve. He pried them open, knelt before her, and licked her cunt clean, spitting his own jizz on the ground, at first, then back at her. Even she had to admit she was shocked by how readily he tasted himself, how much of a horny freak she'd made him into.
"N-No hesitation, huh, pookie-bear?"
"I gotta make my Fran-girl feel good," Steve reasoned, before bending back down to kiss at her clit, making her moan. "I got no time to hesitate!"
7:07 PM
She was an animal, now, that's the only way the world could make sense to her. Francine walked along the ground with her hands as Steve held her legs up and walk-fucked her, every step covering an inch of the lawn and carrying with it a flurry of thrusts, rabid and wild. The two could barely speak, simply grunting and moaning like fuckpigs. They were mowing the lawn again; it was that simple!
8:02 PM
She walked with a grin to the front door, her high heels clicking on the broken cement sidewalk. Her left eye was twitching again, she didn't know when that had started. Or why. Maybe it was all the stress she had been under. After all, between the long late nights of homework, obsessing over every little social media post, and trying to get him alone so she could actually talk with him… Akiko was under a lot of pressure.
But she had gotten the text from Steve out of the blue. And she was going to jump while the jumping was good! She had brought donuts and a six pack from her mom's secret garage fridge, just like the text asked. She had to uber there and everything, just like the text asked. And she had even worn her favorite bright red swimsuit, just like the text asked.
Her hair was in a perfect part, like a raven black curtain, and she had a light blush and a sensible amount of makeup. She didn't want to look like a trollop - sure the neighborhood was a little run down and shitty, but Akiko wasn't worried about that. After all, how could Steve steer her wrong? She was sure that under that gruff bad boy exterior there was still the sweet kindly young nerd who did her science homework and taught her difficult math equations.
Akiko stood on her tiptoes, fumbling with the booze and food and knocking promptly on the door a few times. She stood back and rocked back and forth happily. Steve was probably hiding there, trying to stay off of that bitch Franny Ling's radar. That blonde bimbo bombshell was constantly hanging off of him, harassing him, making him into a laughingstock. Sure his social standing was changing. But at what cost?
Akiko was determined… She would save that cutie pie.
The door opened and a nude, sweaty, spit-covered Francine loomed over the shorter woman. A thick wad of cum plopped onto Francine's bare feet and some droplets soaked Akiko's heels.
"Oh sweet, you got the texts. Thanks, sugar tits," Francine said. She reached down and grabbed the box and snatched the beer out of the shocked girl's hands.
"I… I… I…"
"You… You… You?" Francine taunted in annoyance. She grabbed the beer and bit the bottle top off with a smooth twist of her lips. Akiko blinked in amazement. What kind of mouth did that monster have!?
"Is… Steve told me–we needed donuts and beer…"
"Yeah, we needed sugar and booze. You could probably stand to watch what you eat still. Anyways thanks for the delivery, my pookie-bear is passed out in the backyard and needs a pick up after all." Francine grinned and glanced Akiko up and down.
"I… Can I see–"
"Look nerd, we can talk later. I've got an itch to scratch and my man needs to get his balls drained. Thanks for the snacks. Don't let the door hit ya on the way out!" With that Francine slammed the door on Akiko's face.
Akiko took a step back… Eyes wide and wet, chin quivering, her shoulders slumped in defeat. How was she supposed to compete with that? She turned to walk dejectedly down the sidewalk, flustered and rageful and ashamed. She fished her phone out of her purse. It was blowing up with pics of Francine shoving expensive fast food donuts into Steve's mouth. And then shoving her own full pink succulent suck lips against them.
"Th-that… That whore!"
9:55 PM
"G-G-Gotta water the lawn," Steve hummed in Francine's ear as he fucked her cunt from behind, arms locked behind her head, legs lifted and pressed behind his weedy forearms in a naked full nelson. All she could do was squirt, cumming until her very soul cried for rest, a mess of limbs held together only by desire.
10:30 PM
But Steve had to get his gains in - sex was great exercise, but his legs needed some love, too. On a thrice-cleaned patch on the living room floor, he squatted, balls dangling dangerously above his mom's face, pressing against her head with every downward bend. With the second-last breath of strength she had, Francine held the tip of her son's cock as he squatted, firing jet after jet of cum onto her belly.
11:00 PM
The couch was invitingly cool, even if the two of them had lost half their body weight to sweat and ecstasy. Steve stayed close to Francine, an arm hard-locked around her belly, gently squeezing her spilling tits as he fucked her from behind. With half-lidded eyes Francine locked lips with her son, staring into him with a mad mother's love, at his mercy and pleasure.
He broke from her lips, and all-too-soberly, smiled.
"I never wanna stop fucking you, Fran-girl."
(...)
It was well past midnight when Hayley heard her mom arrive back home. She would've launched up and demanded questions the second Francine entered the house but she was far, far too comfortable. She was in her 'nightwear' - a withered old shirt that had become partially see-through, and a loose pair of boxers stolen from Jeff; though they tended to fall from her hips a lot. The lights in the living room were down low - thanks to Roger's dimmer-switches - and she had True Blood playing still.
Granted, it was one episode on loop; Klaus had long since fallen asleep and she'd given up on watching it, instead flicking through quick-vids on her phone. Hayley barely noticed the haggard, heaving state of her mother, as she walked up the stairs with a bow legged gait. She'd barely made one step before Hayley cleared her throat, eyes not moving from her phone.
"And where have we been this evening, missy?"
"The park," Francine mumbled.
"Meet any hot young dudes at that park? Or did it just, y'know, also reek of sex there?"
Francine shrugged, trying to shake her head of those agonisingly horny thoughts. She needed actual sleep. "Sure."
"Sure as in 'I found a guy' or sure as in 'it reeked of sex', mom?"
"Sure."
Hayley rolled her eyes, a little jealous. She missed the days back when Jeff could mince her like that. It had been so long since he'd smoked that fabled joint, and he'd gotten a little too transcendental for her liking. She swore it was a front and it had done something to his sex drive, but he wasn't admitting it if that was the case. Either way she was flicking the shit out of her bean tonight.
Then she heard someone else rock up. It wasn't Stan, he wasn't allowed near the house and she hadn't seen hide or hair of her dad, not that she cared much. The footsteps were too quiet and dainty - it had to be Steve. She put her phone down as she sat up on the couch, her loose tits jiggling with the motion.
"Calm down, girls, it ain't no threat," she hushed her puppies, eyes narrowing as Steve clambered his way in through the door, weakly shutting it behind himself.
"And where have you been?"
"At the park," Steve huffed, "fuckin' a bunch of dudes."
Her brain short-circuited, long enough for her brother to jog up the stairs and thud against his bedroom floor, near-dead. She sat back down and thought hard, breasts bouncing back again, lefty hitting her chin a little. Even Steven was seeing some action? She knew the gay-sex was a genius front, his smell was unmistakably feminine; more so than his base smell.
It had the telltale hint of something illicit, with a colossal, offensive but not unpleasant front of sweat. The sweat-scent gave way to a sweeter smell, perfume, lipstick and… Shame? Her work at Sub Hub had given her a supernatural sense of smell, but she had yet to perfect the skill. Shame itself was a mix of intrigue and regret, perhaps even embarrassment, but she could sense no regret in her brother's body.
She was not only jealous now, but green with it, pouting cutely at nothing in particular. The amount of 'this is bullshit' energy channelling through her was dangerous, and she certainly didn't want to get up from her comfy spot on the couch. Instead she threw a nearby pillowcase over Klaus' bowl, and got her phone back out.
She cracked open her phone's browser - a million tabs opened for unimportant bullshit - and went hunting. The latest and greatest on PornSchlub featured the usual heavy-hitters, nothing of which really piqued Hayley's interests. Past the BBCs, the Asians, and the rare, almost mythical 'Ultrawhites' she found some candid, amateur thing. The words of the title were on her lips as she crooked her legs up, forming a tent in her blanket; 'LANGLEY'S HOTTEST COUPLE CAUGHT FUCKING LIKE RABBITS'.
Instantly she tapped on it. The sound and video quality were shit but she went to tease herself, fingers sliding past her loose underwear and 'round her pussy, unshaven. Her clit budded gently as the cameras shifted between shots, hours of footage condensed into a horny highlight reel; or perhaps even a cumshot compilation!
They sounded like animals. Their raw, guttural moans were clear even through the shoddy artifacting of the footage, and their bodies were perfect, almost in sight but slightly hidden, clearly dripping with hot sweat. Hayley bit her bottom lip as she became transfixed, digits deftly dancing on her doorway, stroking up and down.
There was something about them; something familiar with that woman. She was blonde, gorgeous, and despite her thick, unimaginably soft body, she looked young; close to Steve's age. Her lips were red and her makeup was destroyed only minutes into the condensed footage, leaving her identity a mystery.
Her beau wasn't bad either. Hayley instantly put herself in the woman's shoes, mentally, and let her eyes die with a grim focus, ignorant to the TV-lit world around her. She slid her fingers into herself with the utmost care, timing the strokes with his thrusts, far more immersed in this than she'd ever been in a porn vid before. He was controlling her, moving her, fucking her without restraint yet somehow pouring care into each movement, doing his best to make them both feel good.
Hayley wiggled her chin under her t-shirt and took the cloth in her mouth, biting down as she went deeper, harder, keeping up with the frenetic pace and editing. More than sweat was falling from their bodies, the woman in the vid was absolutely fit to burst with jizz, sucking off her partner after every filthy penetration. Hayley began to taste that familiar, slimy salt on her lips and tongue, swallowing her spit as that hot bitch swallowed jizz, praying to any god listening that she'd get that herself.
He was tireless. Made the encounters look effortless, that the pleasure rolled off his body and into his partners. His hips were wide, a little on the girly side, but that allure drew her eyes ever downward, wishing that the far-shot surveillance cameras could zoom in just that little bit farther on the guy's hog. He was almost offensively skinny, but wiry, strong enough to pick his girl up and fuck her until she passed out - Hayley had to find this guy!
The video was almost at an end before she realised she wasn't finished herself, so she sped up her movements, tensing her thighs and curling her toes as her teeth grit and bit through her shirt. Her chest heaved like a mighty ship at sea, riding the waves and wobbling her tits back and forth, until they came crashing into a stealthy iceberg. She tried her best to choke a moan, to stuff her mouth with anything to avoid waking up the house.
But then, as Hayley came and soared into a heavenly orgasm, the video snapped, showing off the guy's face. She wanted to be anyone else, she wanted that familiar sense about that fat, throbbing cock to die and never come back. A small, hidden part of her knew intrinsically something was wrong but no, her monkey-brain demanded that sweet, sweet banana of bliss.
It was fucking Steve. She still didn't know who the girl was, for all Hayley knew it was her in that video still, moaning like a whore that had found faith in flesh, cumming her brains out until her legs collapsed beneath her. Before she could pull herself out of that foul, incestuous fantasy, Hayley imagined all too readily and easily Steve's hands pawing at her tits, gripping her hips, and his thick, mighty dick splitting her poor little pussy in half.
When she came, then came down, she had tears in her eyes and shame in her heart. Hastily, regrettably, she closed the tab and cleared her browser history, panting in the dark of night and hiding her face in her ruined, sweaty shirt, trying desperately to catch her breath. Hayley imagined puppies, cats, old businessmen in board meetings and icy-cold showers to rid herself of those brother-fucking thoughts but failed.
She had cum to the sight of her own little brother, the nerdy shit that he was. She fucking despised that awful feeling, the tightness in her chest at seeing his strong body, the quick bump in her heart at the throb of his cock, and the awe in her mind at his unimaginable stamina. Steve was a stallion, a stud, and he had made one girl's night heaven in Langley.
No. She couldn't dwell on it. She got up from the couch, took her soiled blanket and the soaked couch cushions, and fled to the laundry, trying to stem that downward, fuck-fantasy spiral.
"Gross… So fucking gross."