Megan and Her Mom

Megan and Her Mom
By Mario Caliente


I spotted them in the shopping mall. They stood out amid the bustling horde of Christmas shoppers on the Sunday after Thanksgiving. Swans among sparrows, like Romeo said when he first saw Juliet. (He said something like that, anyway.) Once they caught my attention, it was as if there was no one else around, though I was greatly appreciative of the fact that we WERE surrounded by a teaming mass of aggressive shoppers exuding holiday spirit, because this allowed me to follow them unnoticed, observing everything about them as they moved along, both of them carrying several packages, laughing, stopping from time to time as they walked along the shopping center concourse to look into the display cases of the many stores.

The mother couldn’t have been more than in her late thirties, though she looked much younger. In fact, at first I thought she might have been the older sister of the teenage girl that she was with. But after carefully studying them as they strolled along, both of them occasionally bumped by people pushing past them, but both laughing and having fun nonetheless, I decided that while they might have seemed like sisters, this was, in fact, a mother and her daughter.

At one store the mother waited outside, holding all their bags while her daughter went inside the store. From only ten feet away, as I pretended to be absorbed by whatever the fuck it was in the show window next to me, I was in fact watching the mother intently. A smile was fixed on her face as she idly looked up and done the concourse of the crowed shopping center, waiting for her daughter. She was stunningly good looking. Dark blonde hair fell to her shoulders. She was dressed impeccably in suede boots, designer jeans and a light weight, tight fitting white sweater underneath a brown leather jacket. Perfect for a late November day.

With a lump in my throat and a bulge in my pants, I walked through the crowd toward the mother. As I passed by her, I pretended to be shoved into her by a phantom jostler. I savored the brief moment that our bodies touched. My hard-on actually brushed her ass through her jeans, just beneath the hem of her leather jacket. I smiled at her with a helpless expression on my face and said “excuse me, ma’am”, and she smiled back, saying “no problem”. She must not have felt my hard-on. I knew at that moment, seeing close up her shinning eyes and bright smile, that I would somehow, someway, sometime, Rape the living shit out of her.

I walked ten feet past her and paused before another store window, and began observing her from this new angle. She looked a little bit like a Catherine Zeta Jones, only with dark blonde hair. I saw her check her watch and peer into the store where her daughter was. A few more minutes passed when her daughter came back out, grabbed her mother’s purse from her shoulder, and ran back into the store. I starred at the mother, who now wore a look of exasperation. I wondered where her husband was. I pictured her naked on a bed, a pillow under her ass, her legs open and raised as I mounted her. The swelling in my pants was intense. I swore to myself that I would, in fact, at some point really be mounting her!

A few more minutes passed before the daughter came out of the store with another package. They conversed briefly, and then strolled off purposely down the concourse. From a safe distance I followed them. Through the bobbing and weaving of the crowd, I occasionally got good glances of them from behind. My attention now turned to the daughter. I guessed that she was about sixteen. At about 5’6” she was already maybe an inch taller than her mother, and her blonde hair was much lighter. You could tell by their facial features that they were related, although I didn’t quite see the Catherine Zeta Jones angle in the younger one. She was wearing a brown corduroy jacket that did not reach the top of her low hanging jeans. Beneath the jacket was a delicate top that didn’t come down to her jeans, either. “Don’t these girls get cold in the winter?” I thought to myself. I wasn’t complaining. Her outfit provided me a good full inch of her bare skin just above the point where her ass and hips began to swell into her jeans. A hint of her thong panties—red—was just visible above the top of her jeans. I was glad to see she didn’t have one of those tattoos on that particular part of her body. So many girls have those these days that they have become boring. Maybe mommy won’t let her have one yet? Or daddy?

Suddenly, the thought of having both of these hot females at the same time entered my perverted mind. My eyes went from one to the other as I followed them. I began fantasizing about having both pairs of those jeans down around both pairs of ankles. Having both those delicious asses in the air, mother’s and daughter’s, side by side, waiting for my penis to penetrate them both! Asses waiting in the air. Waiting….

********

My head was dizzy from this thought, but the feeling cleared as the woman and her daughter went outside and I followed them from a distance into the cool early evening air. The sun had just set, and in not too many minutes it would be dark. I followed them to their car, a recent model SUV. Oblivious to my presence forty feet away, mother got in behind the wheel and daughter in the passenger’s seat. I quickly ran to my own car which fortunately was only several rows away. As I steered my car toward the exit of the parking lot I found that my subjects’ car was three cars in front of me.

They pulled out onto the street and headed west. I followed. The fact that it was nearly dark meant that it would be harder to follow them, but it also meant that it would be harder for them to tell they were being followed—one pair of headlights in the rearview mirror is like any other.

Our cars got onto the freeway, and drove three or four exits before getting off. We then headed down a road that took us into a fairly fancy residential neighborhood. I managed to usually leave a car or two between us, but after turning onto a much smaller and quieter street, it was only their car and mine. The houses here were large and on rather spacious lots. Soon, their car pulled into a driveway. I slowed as I saw the garage door opening. As I drove past, I noted that the two car garage was half full of boxes, leaving only space for a single vehicle which now drove into it. Checking the number on the house—444—I drove on past. The garage door shut.

*****

I drove back to a commercial area and stopped at a down home style bar, the kind of place where virtually all the patrons are regulars. I sat at the bar and ordered a beer. I pulled a pen and notebook from my jacket. After taking a big first swig from the beer, I started to take notes. I had planning to do. I wrote: “Operation: mother/daughter.” Then a check list: “1. who lives in house? 2. Husband? 3. Other kids? 4. When do they come and go? 5. Security system?”

The fact that there was space for only one car in the garage was interesting. I would have to drive by later that night to see if another car was later parked in the driveway. A husband’s car? Or, was this suburban mother a divorcee or widow, meaning that I wouldn’t have to worry about the presence of a male when I invaded the house? In my mind, the raping of a happily married woman would be particularly satisfying, but it didn’t matter. I was very happy with my selected victim. Or, I should say, victims. Very happy, indeed.

Fortunately, I would be able to find out everything I needed to know about my prey. I had the time to do so. I didn’t have to work for a living. My parents died several years ago and left all kinds of insurance money for my sister and me. I never had to work again if I didn’t want to, though I took bartending jobs from time to time. That was a great way to meet chicks and get laid, and there was a period there when I was getting more ass than I knew what to do with. But I had become bored with that routine. I wanted something different. I wanted to do something…wicked. Something perverted. But I didn’t know what. Until the magic night came, This chick had stuck around the bar until closing time and then asked if I could give her a ride home. We got to her place, and got to making out pretty heavily on the couch in her living room. Her roommate was out of town. But then, the bitch put the brakes on after I had had my hands all over her. Said she had just broken up with a boyfriend and didn’t want to feel that she was going to have sex with me on the rebound. Well, I lost it. I wrestled her to the floor and tore her clothes off. She resisted, and the more she resisted, the more excited I got. In fact, I was so intoxicated with her resistance that when I finally got my cock in her and felt her acquiescing, I got pissed. I slapped her. I wanted her to keep struggling while I fucked her. (But I didn’t slap her too hard. I didn’t leave any bruises. She knew where I worked, and if the cops came knocking I needed to be able to convince them that the sex was consensual—rough, but consensual, just the way she said she liked it. I made sure, though, to take the woman’s ripped blouse with me when I left her house. It didn’t need to look like it had been TOO rough!) The next day, a light bulb came on in my head. I knew from that moment what it was that turned me on. My male organ stirred at the very thought of it. I needed to find, abduct and rape a strange woman!

That’s what I was doing at the mall. Shopping for a victim. It was looking like I found a bargain sale. You know. Buy one, get one free.

*****

Early the next morning, a Monday, my car was parked two doors down from 444. My car’s windows were darkly tinted and it could not be seen that I or anyone was sitting in it. At 7:00 am, the SUV backed out of the garage, into the street, and pulled away. It appeared that the same two females as the night before were in the car. I followed them from a discreet distance.

The girl was let off at a catholic high school five miles away. The SUV continued on, with me following. I had to remain several cars behind in order to remain inconspicuous. In another five miles the SUV pulled into a four story office complex, and the woman parked and got out. She was dressed in a very smart business skirt suit and carried a stylish lap top bag. Walking briskly with never a glance to her surroundings, the woman entered the building.

I went and had breakfast. A Mexican joint that made my favorite: huevos rancheros.

Later that morning I was jogging and just happened to be on the street where they lived. I was whistling that tune from “My Fair Lady” about the excitement of being on the street where someone special lives. As I was passing the curbside mailbox at 444, I suddenly felt the need to cling to something and retch. I choose the mailbox to lean on. Leaning over it, faking a retch, I opened the mailbox and quickly took out its contents: some junk mail, a bill and a magazine. (I had seen the mailman pass by forty minutes earlier.) The mail fit nicely beneath my sweatshirt. Slowly I continued on, soon breaking into a jog again. It certainly seemed to be a quiet residential neighborhood.

Half an hour later I was at a Starbucks reading their mail. The bills were addressed to a Sandra McFarland. The magazine, one for teenage girls, was addressed to Megan Nichols. Nothing for a Mr. McFarland or a Mr. Nichols. Interesting.

Pulling out my lap top, I quickly found Megan Nichols on Facebook. Hmmm. Nice picture. Pretty girl. Under “likes and interests”, then “activities”, I discovered that she played volleyball. Was on her high school volleyball team. Birthday….was last month, and let’s see…she’s only sixteen! Big time jail bait! Well, what I planned to do would carry jail time regardless of the age! Proceed carefully, my friend.

I sipped my coffee, then called Megan’s high school and found out that there was a game at the school that night at 7:00.

**********

Megan’s team was in a tight struggle with the visiting squad. The crowd was not large, but large enough for me to blend in unnoticed. I was sitting in the visitor’s section, close but not too close to some of the visiting parents. I figured I would not be sniffed out as a stalking sexual predator if the home crowd on the other side of the court assumed I was a visiting relative, and the visiting crowd assumed that I was just out of place.

Megan looked fantastic in her tight, short volleyball shorts and equally tight fitting jersey, number 5. There were several other hotties on her team, and on the other team, as well, but I had eyes only for Megan. Her long legs were sleek and smooth. Her blonde hair was pinned up for the game, but loose strands would work free, causing her to brush them out of her face occasionally. Her young breasts, obviously held in place by some sort of sports bra, appeared to be having an ongoing fight with her jersey regarding space rights. How, I wondered, did the nuns at this catholic school let these young girls prance around in such sexy, provocative attire? Looking around the gym, though, I didn’t see any nuns. They must have not been sports fans.

I was extremely disappointed at the beginning of the game that Megan’s mom, Sandra, was not to be seen among the twenty or so parents in the home crowd. My disappointment turned to elation, though, when, with the game tied 5-5 in the first set, in she came, hurrying, still dressed as she was that morning when I followed her to work. My eyes followed her like a hawk watching a rabbit as she hurried in on the other side of the court. She climbed several rows up in the bleachers and plopped into a seat near three other mothers who greeted her warmly. No man was around them. “Where is the father?” I wondered. Is there a Mr. McFarland/Nichols? Megan’s Facebook entries hadn’t provided a clue on this.

In any event, from then on my eyes rotated between Megan on the court and her mom in the bleachers. When Megan, at the net, had a rousing kill, the home crowd cheered lustily. Sandra jumped up, laughing and clapping. Two of the other mothers gave her high fives. I pictured her naked, tied to a bed.

After a time-out, I noticed how Megan lingered a moment with the coach, a good looking guy in his thirties, who put a hand on her shoulder as he gave her some one-on-one instruction. How could a guy like that be around a bunch of hot little teenie boppers, I wondered, without either going crazy or getting busted for statutory?

Megan’s team pulled out an exciting three set victory. She and her teammates celebrated wildly, while their parents stood applauding. Meanwhile, half of the girls on the losing team were crying while their parents also applauded, but in a more subdued manner. One of the girls on the other team did draw my attention away from Megan and her mom for a moment, a dark little brunette who had dropped to the floor in despair after match point. As I watched her sitting there, her elbows on her knees, her face buried in her hands, an image flashed through my head of her tied up in the back of a van, her volleyball shirt and sports bra pushed up around her neck, her tight shorts in a bunch around her bound ankles, revealing her dark skinned body in all its beauty. I was driving the van to a remote location….

I snapped out of my fantasy in time to see Megan and her mom embracing at courtside. As the crowd then filed out of the gym, I was only steps behind the two of them as they walked out into the school hallway and headed for the doors. Megan had put on a warm-up suit and walked with her mother outside to the SUV, waving and saying goodbyes to teammates and their families.

There was no need to follow them from a close distance this time since I knew where they lived. I drove past their house maybe five minutes after they returned home. The lights inside were on. I was glad the garage door was closed; otherwise I might have been tempted to get things going with them prematurely. And that would not have been a wise decision. I still had planning to do.

********

The following morning I was in my other car, waiting just down the street from 444. I had changed cars, obviously, so as not to draw suspicion. As I awaited the garage door to open, I looked carefully at the home security system sign that was placed close to the front door of the house. Was it for real? I knew people who did not invest in such systems, but who placed signs like this so that people like me would think they had them. I was going to assume the sign was for real. That meant no breaking and entering.

As I was contemplating various entry possibilities, the garage door opened. It was almost exactly the same time as the day before. Good. A pattern. I noticed something else that was very interesting, something that had also happened the day before. The mother would get in the SUV and have the engine running, still in the garage with the door open, and would have to honk several times before the girl would come running out to the car.

Before the SUV could back out of the driveway, I started my car and drove away. No need to follow anymore. I knew where the woman was going. I drove straight to Sandra’s office building and was waiting inside the door when she walked in after dropping her daughter off at school. It was an office building that had a number of different businesses located in it: real estate offices, insurance agents and the like. I pretended to be studying the building’s directory, mounted on a wall just inside the door, as Sandra came striding in and walked past me, her high heels clicking on the tile floor. Casually, I turned and followed her. She was wearing a black suit, its skirt falling to the knees. It would have been considered a conservative outfit except for a not too subtle slit up one side of the skirt, a slit that left no doubt that her legs were quite sensational. As she walked briskly toward her office in the same manner as she had undoubtedly done on countless other mornings, with her shoulder length dark blonde hair bouncing and her fine, trim ass swinging softly, she did not know that on this particular morning a rapist was stalking her. Her future rapist’s eyes fixed on that sensual ass as it swayed before him. His hands soon enough would be upon that ass. Only it wouldn’t be clothed when that happened.

The woman entered office number 112. On the glass door of the office was written “Sandra McFarland and Associates”. A secretary type was at a desk near the door. I watched her greet Sandra, who continued walking and entered one of several backroom offices.

An hour late I was dialing the phone number for Sandra McFarland and Associates. A woman answered. “Yes,” I said, I’m looking for Sandra Nichols”.

“Sandra Nichols?” The woman’s voice sounded confused. “This is Sandra McFarland and Associates…wait, Nichols was Ms. McFarland’s married name.”

“Was?” I asked.

“She’s no longer married.” A bit of irritation appeared to be creeping into voice on the other end of the line. “Is it Ms. McFarland that you want? May I say who’s calling?”

“No, that’s okay, I think I’ve got the wrong person. Thanks anyway.” I hung up.

So, she’s divorced! Or widowed, whatever. Mother and daughter live alone! No big, bad male dude to worry about! A big smile covered my face as I sipped my Starbucks coffee.

********

The next morning, Wednesday, I was ready. I had my handy bag of tricks with me, and was dressed as a meter reader might be dressed. From the previous two mornings I knew the time that the garage door would open, and I was busy pretending to read the next door neighbor’s meter when the door opened this morning. Quickly, I moved to the side of 444 and pressed myself against the exterior wall of the garage. In casing the layout I knew that no nosey neighbor could see me at this particular spot. I heard the SUV’s engine come to life. I ducked down and turned the corner leading to the open garage door, and entered the garage, crawling beside the passenger side of the SUV, my body too low to be seen by the driver. Had the girl come sooner to get into the passenger seat, she would have tripped over me. I was prepared for that contingency, and would have sprung into action at the moment if the situation had called for it. But that wasn’t Plan A.

The horn honked as I crawled past the passenger side door, dragging my bag of tricks, and made it to the boxes stacked on the right side of the garage.

I made it to the boxes just in time. Megan came bounding through the door from the house and into the garage just seconds after I was able to hide. She passed not three feet from me. Crouching close to the ground, I got a good look at her legs at my eye level, a beautiful pair of well shaped legs that were well displayed beneath the hem of an incredibly short, catholic school girl’s plaid and pleated skirt. Yum! How could a male math teacher keep his mind on teaching with this honey sitting in the front row!?

The SUV backed out of the garage. My heart raced as I sat there on the concrete floor of the garage, behind the boxes, waiting for the door to close. It seemed like it took forever, but at last I heard the mechanism of the garage door opener jump to life. Still, it seemed to take forever for the fucking garage door to close. One it did, I found myself sitting on cold concrete in total darkness. Being so uncomfortable had never felt so good. Outside I heard the SUV pull away. I smiled in the darkness. Plan A, Step One completed, I thought.

********

I passed the time away watching television and helping myself to the refrigerator, although these women didn’t share my taste in food at all. I spent a lot of time also carefully going through drawers and closets to get a feel for my victims. They had a pet cat, but the critter took one look at me and disappeared somewhere. I felt fortunate that their pet was a lazy cat and not some fucking pit bull.

I studied every detail about the house, especially the upstairs, where there were three bedrooms, one a master suite, plus a bathroom that served the smaller two bedrooms. One of the smaller bedrooms, which didn’t have much of a lived-in feeling, was obviously a guest room. The other room was Megan’s, decorated as you might expect a sixteen year old girl’s bedroom to be decorated. Except, hadn’t she outgrown teddy bears? Guess not. Over her bed were three shelves crammed full of these silly stuffed animals.

I amused myself quite awhile by examining the contents of her underwear drawer, and then moved on the spacious master bedroom.

Here there was a large, king size bed with night tables on both sides, and two medium sized easy chairs. The furnishings were classy and expensive. Sandra’s ex must have been worth a bunch, or else Sandra McFarland and Associates was doing quite well. My attention, of course, was riveted on the bed. Sandra was a tidy person, having made the bed that morning, in contrast to Megan’s room, which looked like it had been ransacked. I was absolutely giddy over the fact that the metal bed head had a horizontal bar that ran the width of the bed, from post to post. I squinted my eyes and pictured Sandra and her daughter, their wrists handcuffed to that horizontal bar.

I figured that Megan would probably have volleyball practice after school and not arrive home until maybe five o’clock. A reminder note from Sandra to Megan that was stuck on the refrigerator door informed me that the mother would not be home until nearly 7:00 due to her workout class. The note told Megan to get dinner out of the freezer and into the microwave.

The thought occurred that Megan might come home with a friend. Well, that would be okay. As long as it was a girl friend. And as long as I got their fucking cell phones away from them quickly enough. I certainly had enough handcuffs and duct tape in my little bag for a party of three.

About 4:00 pm—quite earlier that I expected—I heard the garage door open.

*******

Megan came in from the garage. She was alone. She was still wearing her catholic school girl uniform: short, pleated, plaid skirt, white blouse with a light weight burgundy sweater. She flung her coat and school bag on the dining room table and went into the kitchen. I hid in a corner of the dining room, from where I could easily view her as I looked into the kitchen underneath a set of overhanging cabinets. The girl opened the fridge and helped herself to some orange juice, then paused to read the instruction note that her mother had stuck to the fridge door. I watched as she then opened the freezer door and withdrew a Tupperware. She then placed this in the microwave and hit the defrost button.

At that moment her cell phone rang. “Hey, what’s ya doin’?” A pause while the person on the other end spoke. “Coach gave us practice off today. Yeah, ‘cause we played, like, totally awesome Monday night, he said we deserved a rest.”

As she spoke on the phone, she picked up her school bag and headed up the stairs. “Coach Brady is so cool. I have, like, this biggest crush on him!…….He is so hot!…….I know he’s married. Like, I care about that!” With that she giggled loudly. She was in her bedroom now, and threw herself onto her bed. I had just made it up the stairs myself and stood outside her door, listening. In my hand was my bag of tricks containing the necessary items that I believed would be needed throughout the time that I would be in this house.

“He touched me! Yes! He did! In the game, he put his hand on my shoulder. I almost fainted. I played like shit afterwards, I couldn’t concentrate on the game……Would I fuck him? Marcy, you are so gross.” She paused. “Of course I’d fuck him! Like, duh!” She giggled uncontrollably. “I mean, like, I gotta loose my stupid virginity one of these days!…..I am serious….Well, of course he’d get in trouble if anyone found out. But nobody would find out. Except you!” More giggles. There was silence as her friend talked on the other end. “Bobby Wilson!?” she then exclaimed. “I don’t want to loose my virginity that bad!” More giggles. “Talk about people finding out, if I let Bobby Wilson in my panties the whole school would know.”

My penis got really hard listening to Megan talk to her friend.

They talked about school and boys for another ten minutes. It started to get a little boring until Megan said something that made my ears prick up. “Hey, I’m going to watch that porno flick you gave me. I gotta watch it now before my mom gets home, duh!….Is it really gross? I’ll learn stuff? Hey, Marcy, I know more than you think I do. I’m not that innocent…OK, call you later. Bye.”

With that Megan got off the bed. Peeking around the door, I could see her putting a DVD into a TV/player on the far side of the room. Then, she turned and skipped toward the door. I flattened myself quickly against the wall and she passed right by me without seeing me out of the corner of her eye on her way to the bathroom.

I took a deep breath, then darted into the girl’s bedroom and hid in a closet, leaving the closet door ajar one inch. This afforded me an unobstructed view of her bed, something I had filed away in my brain while casing the joint during the day.

Soon, Megan came back into the bedroom and plopped again on her bed. One of her teddy bears fell on her from the shelf above her bed. She grabbed it and hugged it. She was still wearing her school uniform, though she must have kicked her shoes off somewhere. The short skirt provided me with a very nice beaver shot of lacey white panties as she sprawled on the bed. The expanse of lovely, smooth thigh that lead to the panties was breathtaking. I’m not sure that I didn’t make a gasping sound from my hiding place in the closet at the sight of those spectacular legs, but if I did, the girl did not hear me.

Megan grabbed the TV’s remote control and turned on the TV and DVD player. Clutching her teddy bear, she watched as the porno flick commenced. Her line of sight went past me to where the TV stood. I could not see the TV from my vantage point, but I could certainly hear it. And the actor and actress did not waste much time on small talk before I could hear the actress moaning as if she was already getting the best fuck she had ever had.

I watched the girl’s expression with the fervor of a scientist observing a pet project. Her eyes and mouth were wide open as she starred with wonder at the tube. “Yes. Yes! Yes!” the actress in the film was crying. “Eat my pussy!” Megan continued to stare at the tube. The only thing wider than her eyes was her mouth, which gaped in disbelief. Holding her teddy bear in her left arm, her right hand slowly found its way under the hemline of her catholic school girl dress, which was easy given the way it was hiked up nearly to her waist.

Megan’s fingers then carefully entered beneath the waistband of her white, lacey panties. She pushed the unwanted undergarment down to give her fingers free access to her virgin pussy. As the porno flick continued to roll—by the sound of it, the woman was now sucking the man’s cock—the girl before me on the bed scooted down into a fully laying position, her head back. She spread her luscious thighs apart to provide her fingers with even better access to her sex. With her left hand that was clutching teddy, she reached for the remote control and turned off the TV. Before my very eyes, sixteen year old Megan Nichols began to masturbate.

The room was quiet now as the teenage girl lay flat on her back on her bed, thighs parted, her fingers moving slowly but deftly against the recently matured womanhood that lay beneath her panties. Something told me she had done this before. She really seemed to know what she was doing. After a few minutes, she impatiently pushed her panties all the way down and off her long, beautiful legs. This allowed her to spread her legs apart easier. Her hand quickly resumed its activity between those fine legs, but not before I got an eyeful of her bare pussy beneath the school girl skirt that now lay hiked around her waist.

“Oh, Coach Brady” I heard her moan as her legs scissored over the sheets of her bed, her eyes shut tightly. “Oh, yes, Coach Brady. Yes, I want you.” Her voice was so soft I could barely make out what she was saying. There was a long pause in her moaning words as her slender fingers began to work more feverishly over her sex.

“No”, she said softly. “No one will ever know. This will be our little secret, Coach Brady. I won’t tell a soul, I promise!”

The girl took her hand away from her pussy. She needed it to help her other hand in pushing her burgundy sweater up around her chin. The teddy bear had long since fallen to the floor, where it stared up stupidly at her.