I knew my boyfriend was fooling around with his mom, and I loved it - Part 3: Caught them

I woke up raw between my thighs, still tingling and sore from the pounding I took the night before. All night, I’d wondered what happened when he “checked on mom” in the middle of our fuck. No one had ever left my naked body waiting for so long. No one had ever been so rough with it when they came back.

A knot in my stomach made me shiver. I had a plan.

I turned over, intending to kiss my boyfriend and wrap my hand around his morning wood. We’d woken up together a few times, and every time, his cock was shockingly hard—like, “I refuse to start my day until I take that thing for a ride” hard. My ingenious little plot: Pet it lovingly. Whisper sweet nothings about what a “good boy” he was last night to get the mommy center of his brain ticking. And then pry myself away from that beautiful cock to go walking in the morning air by myself—leaving them alone. Increasing the chances he’d think with his dick. Raising the odds I’d come back to find him doing what he does not have time to do while his girlfriend takes a quick stroll.

(My avatar’s got devil horns for a reason.)

But it didn’t happen that way. Mrs. Lawson was one step ahead. When I turned over, I found empty bedsheets.

Through the thin cottage walls, I heard giggling, rustling, and whispers in the lounge room. Only snippets were clear:

“You look so fucking…” Dave’s voice. “Oh my goodness, sweetheart… You woke up like that?” Mrs. Lawson’s voice. Dave’s soft laugh. A kiss? A groan? “David! You’re going to hurt me with that thing. It’s so…” Mrs. Lawson’s sharp breath. Silence. The indefinable sense they’d turned to look at my door. A whisper, source unclear: “Do you think she’s ready?”

As if answering the question, my feet threw me out of bed. “Ready for what?” I asked, leaning on the doorframe.

My boyfriend was shirtless, hair messed from bed, sinking back against the couch. Under a blanket, I could see the waistband of his boxers. Mrs. Lawson was cuddling him, one arm over his shoulders, one hand in the center of his chest. She was wearing a white bathrobe and—based on the generous helping of thigh squished against the couch, or the hypnotic glimpse of soft, bra-less tit that rested against her son through the robe—she had nothing on underneath.

I felt that tummy knot pull tighter. Dave looked both embarrassed and pleased with himself. His mom smiled like I’d just sat down for breakfast. Neither of them made any attempt to move.

“Good morning!” said Mrs. Lawson. “I was just asking David if you’d be ready to go out soon. I’ve got a big favor to ask.”

Stupidly horny and sleepy, I fumbled the words, “Yeah, I’d be happy to help with whatever you, um, need, Mrs. Lawson.”

She rubbed his chest up and down, watching me watch her hand—almost like she was pleased to have gotten away with so much already, and wanted to push things further. She asked me to take a walk down the road to the neighbors’ place and borrow some sugar. I said sure of course no problem, threw my clothes on as fast as possible, and lost my breath when I walked out to find Dave resting against her heaving chest, where she held him tight, petting his hair.

She kissed the top of his head and said, “It’s about a five-minute walk. You’re sure you don’t mind, sweetheart?” I can’t believe I did not. “You’re too sweet. I’d send our man of the house, but David and I need to discuss something.”

If it were any other woman, I would have clawed her eyeballs out for this cuddle. But the panties I’d been wearing for five minutes were already soaked. When I nodded nervously, she scattered goosebumps across my body with a: “Good girl.” She held his wrist and planted soft, slow kisses across the back of his hand, but never broke eye contact with me.

“I’ll take my time,” I said, backing out the door. “It’s a beautiful morning.”

She shook her head. “No, honey. Hurry back.” She clasped Dave’s chin gently and raised it, pressing her plush and subtly parted lips against his for a tender, lingering kiss. She was still looking at me, commanding my attention with her eyes, making sure I didn’t look away for even a fraction of that kiss. My feet froze to the ground, lust overriding my instinct to pull him away. Her fingers wiggled “goodbye,” then rested, low and torturously, on Dave’s abs.

I closed the door and ran.

The forest and its dirt roads whipped past. My mind oscillated between extremes:

It’s all in my dirty imagination. She just loves him. A lot.

She wants me to know. She knows I started this. If I’m a good girl, she’ll reward me.

I was panting on the neighbors’ doorstep, sweat curling down my back, nipples stiff inside my bra, pointing eagerly outward, urging me to move, hurry, don’t stop, play her game. She’s got more sex appeal in her pinkie finger than you or anyone your age. You’re her errand girl. Obey.

I felt brainwashed. Like tits, ass, and dark eyes with scrambled brains, rearranged to this woman’s liking. So when I heard Dave’s voice, I thought I had gone totally crazy. But it was real, and it was behind me: a grunt that I knew well, distinctly his, echoing across the lake. He’d made that sound a thousand times—and only inside me.

A sweet old lady answered the neighbors’ door and asked what I was looking at. “Oh, that’s just the way it is out here on the water,” she explained. “Sound carries. You can hear a pin drop across that lake!” The unequivocal sound of a spank shot through the air. A woman’s moan followed. “Not me, though,” she frowned, pointing to her ear. Another spank, another moan. “Are you related to the Lawsons, dear?”

The little shrine Mrs. Lawson had made in my gut was grinding through my insides, kneading my ovaries with a rough but pleasurable touch. I wanted to scream with jealousy or cum hands-free, and somehow both at the same time.

I told the old lady I was not a Lawson but a girlfriend. “Oh!” She smiled. “You’ve got Mrs. Lawson’s good looks, so I thought you were family!” I blushed, insisting she was too kind, but thanked her profusely. I guess Dave’s got a type, I joked. The old lady laughed and rummaged through her cabinet on the hunt for sugar. Across the lake, another moan: it was sweet, loud, and musical, tapering off slowly, diving an octave into the water until it faded into a whimpering, raspy groan. I held the doorframe for balance, dizzy and desperate to see firsthand if my boyfriend was milking those beautiful orgasms out of his mommy.

The water answered: “Fuck! Good boy…”

I gasped. “I’m sorry, I’ve got to go! I’ll come back later!” I yelled over my shoulder, bolting down the road towards the Lawsons’. The forest lashed its tendrils across my skin as I ran through the trees, leaving the dirt path behind to make better time, scraping my sweaty skin. With every pounding step, the moans grew closer, louder.

They stopped just before I turned the doorknob. It was locked. I banged on that door, nearly crying, so overwhelmed with desire and confusion I couldn’t bear it. Before the tears could drop, the latch clicked.

Mrs. Lawson answered in her bathrobe. Her hair was wet and slicked back. Water droplets rested on the tops of her intimidatingly full breasts. “Oh, my sweet girl! Are you alright? I was just in the shower—I hope you weren’t waiting out here long.”

“Mrs. Lawson, I know what’s going on. And I’m not mad, I just want to… I need…” I caught my breath in frenzied gulps, botching my big moment with the only words that felt right: “Mrs. Lawson, I’m obsessed with you.”

She looked as surprised as I was. Then, compassionate. She stroked her thumb across my cheek. “I know, baby. Follow me.”

“You know?” She linked her arm in mine and walked me through the lounge room. “What do you know?” Even in my anxious state, her presence slowed my heartbeat, soothed by her floral aroma and the warmth of her arm. The blanket once covering Dave’s legs was now on the floor. Dave wasn’t on the couch, or in the kitchen, or even in our bedroom.

“Were the Jacksons not home?” she asked.

“They couldn’t find the sugar, and I wanted to get back. You said hurry, I’m sorry, I—… Where’s Dave?”

At the end of the hall, the shower water was still running inside the bathroom.

“So you really went down the road? You are a sweet girl,” she said, melting my distress with her nurturing tone. “I thought for sure you’d be listening outside the window. It was open just for you, my beautiful little voyeur.”

Beautiful.

“You thought I’d…?” I stopped short of the bathroom, mouth ajar, as Mrs. Lawson opened the door. My boyfriend was naked in the shower, lathering shampoo into his hair behind steamy glass. His cock was rock hard. He looked at his mom’s sparkling wet figure and then at me, each with equal adoration, and gripped his cock.

“David told me everything weeks ago,” said Mrs. Lawson, barring entry with her hand on the door. “And we decided today that you’re ready. For your first time, you can listen, but can’t watch. If you like what you hear, I’ll give you a peek.”

I nodded, speechless except for a whispered, “Please.” She flashed her radiant smile and closed the door. From inside, her giggle carried into the hallway, along with the sound of fabric sliding off her skin. Her discarded bathrobe blocked the light under the door.

I’ve spent years replaying this in my head: The sound of her feet on wet tile. The “mmm” of her lips on her son’s mouth. My footsteps, inching closer to the door. Her cheeky giggle, a spank, and her playful yelp. The slosh of her hands twisting around his cock. My boyfriend’s whispered, “Fuck…” The words she enunciated clearly, projecting towards me: “Bend me over, sweetheart. Show me everything Emily’s taught you.” Her gasp as he slid his cock inside. The bright hot burning in my belly. The wet slap of his thighs against her thick ass, over, and over, and over with each thrust. Her moans echoing off the walls, and her “Baby, you’re so big,” voice so vividly horny I could almost feel him thrusting inside me. Dave speeding up the over and over of his slapping thighs, thrilled with her praise. “God,” she croaked, “mommy loves you so much.” My six-feet-of-muscle boyfriend returning, “I love you, mommy,” between heavy breaths. My weak knees, collapsing to the floor. My palms on the door as my pussy throbbed. “Emily trained you to be so nice and rough.” Spank. “That’s it, baby. Make me cum. Make Emily cum.” Sitting down, back against the door, sending my hand into my pants with her permission. Mrs. Lawson’s sunny voice, crying out in ecstasy. Lifting my creamy wet panties off my pussy and shivering when I grazed my clit. “Pull mommy’s hair—unf, fuck… Just like that…” Circles around my clit, and my boyfriend’s heavy balls clapping against Mrs. Lawson, over, and over, and over, all of us moving at the same rhythm. Mrs. Lawson’s orgasm, screaming wildly down the hall, swirling inside my guts until it bellowed through my voice, too—meeting her cry with my desperate whimpers as we shared her orgasm and my boyfriend’s cock. I’m her, I’m her, I fantasized while I came. I could hear her smiling through her moans when I joined in. Dave gasped: “I’m going to—” Scrambled footsteps.

The door opened behind me. I turned, still cumming, to see Mrs. Lawson’s gloriously naked body framed inside that door. She was kneeling, tits squeezed together and plump between her arms, ass smothering her feet underneath her as Dave thumbed the head of his cock. She stared up at her son with all the love, pride, and enthusiasm a mother—only a mother—could muster, coaxing his cum out with her smile until he burst across her face, soaking her porcelain skin. She closed her eyes and basked in him. Another orgasm snuck up on my clit as my boyfriend shot rope after rope of thick cum onto his mommy, coating her in more than he’d ever given me.

I lay against the wall, jaw hanging in ecstasy as my orgasm rolled on, when Mrs. Lawson turned her loving smile on me. She dragged one finger across her cheek and placed it in her mouth, sucking Dave’s cum off her fingertip. Her eyes were warm as ever, but they held my gaze with a vice grip, controlling me even now that she’d taken what she wanted from me.

“Thank you for getting him ready, sweetheart.” There was no venom in her tone—no hint of competitiveness or jealousy. She knew she’d won and always would. No one could compete with a mother’s love, and no one could compete with Mrs. Lawson. “You taught him to be such an—” she shivered with pleasure—“aggressive, selfless lover. But I’ll take over from here.” She up-and-downed me, poring approvingly over my curves as my hips twitched the last remnants of orgasm in her direction. I remember hoping: What if she wants me, too? She said, “I’ve got lots to teach you both,” and kissed the head of Dave’s cock, eyes on my chest.

Lessons started that night.