Me, my Girlfriend, and her Mom: Part 2

Part Two:



Three days passed and no police came for me, and when I saw Ashley, it didn’t seem like she knew anything. Just as I suspected, Jill didn’t have it in her to tell anyone about what I had done, either because she was ashamed or because she loved it, probably both. But after the third day, I decided it was time to stop by and pay her a visit.

I arrived at her house in the mid-morning, when Ashley was still there. Like before, I didn’t bother knocking, but I hollered when I stepped inside. “Ashley?”

“In here!” Her voice came from the kitchen, and at the same time, I heard a dish break. “Mom, are you ok?”

“Y-yes, dear, I’m fine. It just slipped out of my hand.”

Hearing Jill’s voice gave me a hard-on, the fact that she had broken a plate when hearing my own telling me that the iron was still hot and it was time to strike. I came into the kitchen, where Ashley was sitting at the dinner table in her waitress uniform with a stack of pancakes in front of her. Jill was at the stove in a pair of tight jeans and a tank top, standing with her back to me and trying to hide her trembling.

“Hey, what’s up?” Ashley asked.

“I wanted to see if you were up for a movie.”

“You should have called, you wouldn’t have had to drive. You know I have the lunch shift at the diner today. I told you before, remember? I got to leave in half an hour.”

“Oh yeah, I guess I forgot,” I replied, waiting for Jill to look over to me.

“Luckily my mom was in a good mood and offered to make me some pancakes. Want some?”

“I would love some. Jill, you don’t mind, do you?”

Jill had to turn to me or else her daughter would get suspicious. Putting on a brave face, she looked over to me. “Sure, I’d be happy to!”

I flashed her a grin, one that Ashley didn’t see, one that broadcasted what I really hungered for. Seeing that look in my eye, knowing what I wanted to do, Jill turned her attention back to the stove and began mixing up more batter, trying to keep calm so that Ashley wouldn’t sense anything while she prepared food for the man that had raped her. I watched her while she worked, her tight denims making her ass pop. The pancakes were made in ten minutes and Jill handed me the plate without making eye contact.

For a while, I sat with Ashley and ate this second breakfast, talking with her about the usual subjects while Jill cleaned up in the kitchen. Ashley soon finished and left for work, leaving Jill and me alone. At first I didn’t do anything, I simply continued eating while Jill tried to distract herself with dirty dishes. The kitchen was silent, save for the scratching of my knife and fork on my plate and clinking of dishes in the sink. I could tell the silence was getting to Jill, that she could feel my eyes on her. What was I going to do to her? What was I waiting for? These questions were driving her wild, and against her will, her body was preparing itself. All I had to do was watch my timing and the suspense would do a lot of the work for me.

Finally I stood up and strode over to her with intentionally slow footfalls, watching Jill tighten up as I approached. Finally I grabbed her ass and pressed myself against her. “Your cooking is as good as ever, now how about I prepare something to stuff into YOUR mouth?”

“Zach, what happened before was a mistake and we can’t ever do it again?”

“It wasn’t a mistake. I took you like a dirty whore and you loved it, begging me to Rape you harder. You know, the day after we had sex, Ashley and I had a little bit of fun. I wonder if she could taste you on my cock, the way she was slobbering all over it. Her mouth felt just like yours.”

Jill tried to push me away. “I said no!”

“Haven’t you learned yet? You don’t get to say no to me.”

I grabbed the front of her jeans and unfastened them, then wrapped my arm around her waist and pulled her from the stove and to the middle of the kitchen floor.

“No! NO!” she screamed as I yanked off her pants, revealing her pink thong.

I forced her to the floor and kept her on her stomach with me on top of her, letting me undress. I then flipped her over and ripped off her tank top like wrapping paper. She wasn’t wearing a bra underneath, her melon-sized tits bouncing freely. Momentarily letting her go, I stood up and retrieved a bottle of cooking oil from beside the stove. Pinning Jill on her back, I held her wrists together so that she couldn’t fight me off and poured the oil onto her chest. I rubbed it into her skin with my free hand, loving the feel of her breasts slipping in my grip.

“Nothing like a pair of big oiled titties,” I said with a chuckle.

Jill glared at me with fear and anger. “Fuck you,” she hissed.

“Oh no, I’m going to fuck YOU.”

My sadistic side getting the better of me, I squeezed one of her tits with a hard grip, making Jill cry out in pain. From there, I began smacking them, each time making her yelp as I whipped the mountains of soft flesh.