I Think I Accidentally Became My Best Friend's Step Dad. Oops. [F48M22][Outercourse][Self-Control][Assjobs][Hand Stuff][Is a Pussyjob a Thing?][Oops, It Slipped In!][So Cummy]

Conner had been playing for like two hours already. We were supposed to study for midterms, but the wretched fucker just kept nattering on about fighting or becoming an elden lord or something.

Such a fucking dweeb.

"Come on, come on, come on," he moans as he smashes the buttons on his controller.

Look, I like video games as much as the next guy, but there comes a point where you really need to grow the fuck up, lock the fuck in, and quit acting like you're gonna haunt your mom's basement forever.

"I'm gonna hit the can," I mutter, climbing off his bed.

"Ay, grab me a soda while you're up there?"

"Sure, dude. Whatever."

gRaB mE a SoDa...What are you, 10? No, 22. Twenty fucking two.

It serves him right, honestly, having a hot mom. Even with his dozen allergies and three inhalers and general fear that every public surface would give him a new disease. Conner is a dipshit. A good friend, true, but still a dipshit. So, yeah, he deserves a hot mom.

Why? Dude, a hot mom is an absolute curse. The jokes, the ridicule, the little comments. Having a hot mom is a fate worse than death. Even so, thank Christ for Molly.

Molly Draper. The object of my obsession. My muse, my Juliette. My north star.

My private whore. Well, almost.

"Conner’s home," she giggles as my hands snake around her waist in the kitchen. Even in her apron, Molly's body is just irresistible. No frumpy sweater or shapeless skirt can hide the fact that she's absolutely stacked.

"Let him stay down there," I say between kisses along her jaw. "I won't be long."

She sighs desperately, I feel her melting. Today's dress is thin and her soft body yields to me under the pale fabric. "You're bad," she gasps. Something nestles between her ass cheeks as my breath falls hot on her neck. It's all we ever allow ourselves, but our mutual denial is so painfully hot. There's a reason she always asks me if I'm staying for dinner.

"God, I want you," I moan, kneading her tits under the apron. Even the heavily padded mom bra she straps herself into every day can't hide how hard her nipples get for this. "Run away with me."

"I can feel you," she groans, wiggling back onto my stiff prick. "Is all that for me?"

"It wouldn't be pressed against your ass if it wasn't yours."

She hisses as I pinch her nipples tenderly; the red in her cheeks has nothing to do with the hot pot of broiling food she's minding.

"If he comes in..." she purrs, leaning in as I nibble her ear. It's the flimsiest defense - we've been at this little game of grab-ass for like two years and she's never bothered with more than 'If he comes in...'

"He won’t," I promise. "He’s too busy, and I fucking want you."

"Shhhh," she hisses. She always shushes me when she's done with the pretend pushback part of our charade.

"Fuck me," I groan. "Come on, Molly. Just one time. We need it. Everything will be better, I promise. I just can't live without it anymore."

"You certainly do love my tits today, huh?"

"There's just so much to love. Let me suck them, just once. Please, Molly, I know you want me to. I won't bite."

She lays the knife she's been pretending to use down and wraps her arm behind her head, taking a fistful of my hair as I love all up and down her tender, salty neck.

"You're obsessed," she accuses breathily.

"Tell me to stop then."

"Mason..."

"Tell me to stop and I will. Tell me you don't think about my cock day and night. Do it. Tell me to leave, Molly, please. If you won't fuck me, send me away. I can’t take it.”

"I..." she tried. "I can't. Oh, fuck, I just can't. I...I want that cock so badly, it's just so..."

"MASON! Dude! You lost or something?"

We both groan in frustration as Molly's 22 year old man baby interrupts us for want of an Orange Crush. Just as well, another minute and we'd both have broken down. For better or worse, he complicated the affair.

I back away, still hard and dangerously close to leaking through my jeans. Molly looks near pristine, if a little rosy in her cheeks. Nothing a hot stove can't explain.

"I better get..."

"Yeah," she replies, smoothing the front of her apron down and patting her hair. "Tell Conner that dinner's almost done?"

"Sure," I promise. "Oh, and Molly?"

"Mason?"

"I hate that dress."

"But I...I like this one. What's wrong with it?"

"It's not on the floor."

*******

God she tortures me.

I know she's not trying to, and she's decent enough to actively do her best to avoid it, but she's just so goddamn fuckable. She's 48 and everything the girls at schools never could be. Fuck their perky little tits and bubble butts; my girl had the kind of ass that turned men into poets, and these hips that I was dying to get my bare hands onto. And her tits! Ugh, fuck me sideways, I swore I'd never lust after another pair of sweater puppies so long as I lived if I could just get my lips on them one time.

And for her part, Molly very obviously got more than her fill out of our illicit little tryst too. I think it's just the attention of a younger guy, or the thrill of being told things she hadn't heard in decades. Maybe she's just a closet freak and this is all very pedestrian for her. I don't know. What started as playful banter had since crossed several lines that neither of us were remotely interested in untangling.

Even so, our self-restraint was just barely keeping us in check. Barely. It was tested the hardest on those rare occasions when we were accidentally alone.

Molly’s upstairs folding laundry when I get to their house. Conner has an extra tutorial on Fridays, but I usually just go straight to his house if we’re gonna hanging out. He doesn’t mind, that generous chap.

Only Molly can wear a tshirt and sweatpants like they're lingerie, I swear to you.

"I like when you wear shirts like this more," I tell her, pushing her back against the dryer. She looks up at me with her big brown eyes and the most dangerous dare written on her face. She could have pushed back, said ‘no’, denied me; any act of resistance would have sent a clear message. Instead, she licks her lips while I lift the hem of her shirt up and cup her heavy tits greedily.

“Yeah?” she asks. “Why’s that?”

“Easier access,” I say with a feverish edge of need. I’d never dared to bare them before, but I could have. She would have let me. Probably.

She paws at me through my pants. “I didn’t wear it so you could feel me up,” she teases.

The way her skin wrinkles and yields as I massage her eagerly is so enticing, even against the backdrop of her modest bra. If I wanted to, I could just…

“Fuck this,” she groans as her fingers make short work on my button and fly. She worms her hand down, grasping my cock through the barely-there fabric of my briefs. It’s the closest to actually touching me she’s ever come.

“M-Molly!” I gasp.

The mild-mannered woman is still there, belying the touch-starved, unloved goddess beneath. Her eyebrows work in time with her clenching jaw, affecting a look that's nearly concerned - worried she might not be able to stop, or apprehensive about the handful she’s claimed.

“God I want this stupid cock,” she groans. I’d forgotten all about groping her tits, and stood there stupefied as she starts to stroke, really stroke my meat.

I melt in her hand. This is new, a yard further afield than we’d been before. This is…

“You’re stroking my cock,” I observe stupidly.

She sighs. “So hard, so fucking…big. God, Mason, you’re a real handful.”

“Take it out. Please fucking take it out.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” she says, seeking and commanding my eye contact.

“I…I just need to feel you. Please, just for one second. Please, Molly, fuck - just let me see you touch it!”

She smirks. “‘Just one second’ is how I ended up with Conner,” she says. My cock is a hot knot of need in her hand, her finger tips gracing my head just lightly enough to make my blood boil.

“You- You’re gonna make me cum,” I threaten. “Molly, p…please, you’re gonna - Oh, fuck!”

Her grin is a wicked, cruel thing. “Oh that’s cute. I like when you beg for it. Do that again.”

“Molly, I…”

“Uh uh,” she chides, using her free hand to lift the cup off one breast, then the other. Showing them to me for the first time while she works me over is a curse, it’s a dirty, rotten, no good trick.

They very nearly finish me on the spot.

“Now try again,” she urges.

“Again?” I ask as the room starts to thrum.

“Beg.”

Her tits are staring me straight in the eye and her naked tummy’s soft promise is killing my resolve. Even with her bra sitting atop her chest awkwardly, all I want to do is seal my lips around her fat nipples and…

“Beg,” she demands again. “Or I stop.”

“Molly, I groan. “Please take my cock out. I need it, please dear fucking god, I cannot take this. Your h-hand feels so good already, and I…I…”

“Touch me,” she orders. “Come on, my tits are out and you’re not even touching them. Don’t you like them?”

“I love them,” I groan painfully, slapping my hand against her cool flesh with a meaty handful. She draws a sharp breath in satisfaction.

She doesn’t give in to my request, but keeps stroking regardless. The angle is awkward and my underwear is grating against my sensitive skin, but the fact that it’s her hand, my Molly’s hand, and her tits I’m touching…I’m ruined.

The cum is hotter for the shame it carries, but it pumps and spurts into my shorts before I can wrap my head around what to do about my mess. Molly grins, always that same grin, feeling me twitch, jolt, pulse under her fingers. I always thought she was a meek little suburban ornament, but that look is raw filth, cruelty wearing the mask of a lamb. She stays past her curfew, smearing the embarrassing mess through my trousers thoroughly as I grind my teeth together.

“F-fuck,” I groan. She withdraws her hand, fingertips just dewy with the produce of her efforts. “Molly, I…you…”

She tugs her bra back down, still staring up at me like nothing’s the matter and my own jizz isn’t soiling my pants. She looks highly amused, and more than a little proud of herself.

“I’m going downstairs,” she says flatly. “Throw your stuff in with this load. You can borrow some of Conner’s jeans. He won’t mind.”

“What am I supposed to tell him?” I ask as she steps past me into the hall.

Her laugh is a hair shy of mocking. “Not my problem,” she chuckles. “Just not that you came in your pants I guess.”

*******

Of course, fucking around is like taking a piss at the bar. Once you break the seal, you’re fucked.

Her hand squelches in the dark as it slips over the tip of my cock. Outside, her neighbours carry on scarfing burgers and playing frisbee. But Molly and I? We’re huddled in a corner of her unfinished basement pretending that we’re totally in control of ourselves while everyone enjoys the barbecue outside.

“Got a nice, big load for me, eh? Gonna pump all that cum out into my hand?”

You hear people say “oh, I was weak in the knees, my legs were like jelly”, but I’m living that idiom in real time.

“Fuck that feels so good,” I pant like a mutt begging for scraps at the table. Every minute that this goddess, this utter idol to every raw fuck, isn’t being worshipped is pure sin. Here, in the dusty corner of an unused storage room, among boxes of old photo albums and Christmas ornaments, she is desire itself.

“You look so cute when you’re trying not to cum,” she says with an edge of mirth as she stares at her pumping fist. “Your cock is so fucked up, you know that? I swear it would bark if I told it to.”

I’d make it roll over and do tricks just to make her smile. I’d put it down to make her cum.

“L-let me touch you,” I pant. “Molly, fuck, pull your pants down.”

Her fluffy mound drives me up the fucking wall and back. I shouldn’t see it. I shouldn’t even look. It’s not even right.

It’s the hottest fucking thing on earth.

I paw at her as she jerks me off, groping her bare ass in the dark as she works me over.

“Cum for me,” she commands. “Mason, fucking cum for me. Now, cum. Cum! Are you listening, I said…”

Sorry Molly dear, I was in outer space.

She howls as I buck, pumping and grunting artlessly as she beats me right through the entire sordid affair. My cum waters the bare concrete floor, splattering a box labelled “Conner’s Toys” and rains down on her sanded toes. She, of course, finds the whole thing hilarious.

“Mom!” screeches our chief antagonist. “Mom, we need more hot dogs! Are there any wieners down there? Mason, you down there?”

We stifle our guiltless giggles as she shoves my limp sausage back into its casing and heads off.

*******

Look, Conner's okay. He might be a textbook case of failure to launch, and some of his favourite podcasters might use the word 'alpha' a little too unironically, but none of that means he deserves the things I've started doing to his mom.

Things like hot dogging her fat ass cheeks whenever he's not in the room.

"Are you boys excited to graduate?" Molly asks as we share dinner one night.

Conner pokes at some boiled string beans sullenly. He still hasn't told her that he won't be invited. "I guess."

"Just 'I guess?' Come on, it's exciting! A new chapter's right around the corner. Mason, you must be happy to be moving on."

"Oh, for sure," I reply.

"We'll have to have a little party or something. It's not everyday your special guys graduate college!"

Conner huffs loudly and shoves back from the table, stomping out of the room. His bedroom door closes sharply upstairs.

I stare at the half-eaten pork chop on my plate.

"Little asshole," Molly sighs before draining her glass of wine.

"I'll talk to him," I promise.

"Oh, you don't have to do that. If he's gonna flunk out, he needs to grow a pair and tell me himself."

"Molly, I..."

"I'm gonna clean up here. You sticking around for a bit or do you have to run?"

'Sticking around' is certainly one of the things you could call it.

A newscaster reads off the nightly litany of doom and gloom on the living room TV, but Molly and I are already breathing heavily, pants around our ankles on the couch. Her hand tugs my cock slowly as she draws small circles through her pubes with the other.

"T-take your tits out, please," I beg. Her body is worth worshipping whether it's clothed or not, but any excuse to get her topless is worth pursuing. If we're not going to actually fuck, I'll take anything else.

She giggles and pauses her rubbing long enough to tug her shirt up. Great, wobbly perfection.

"God," I grunt. "Why aren't we fucking? Molly, come on. We-we're obviously going to. Please, just..."

She bats my cock playfully. "Be good."

"I'm tired of being good," I whine. It's not an assertive look, but I'm an addict in need of a fix at this point.

She eyes my cock with open hunger, her pretty face twisted with conflict. She wants me. She so wants me. "I don't know..."

"Let me...Let me use your ass!"

"What?"

"Just let me rub against it. Please, Molly, I'm dying over here."

"You want to fuck my - my ass cheeks?"

I had more arguments lined up, but they weren't necessary this time.

Molly slinks to the floor and rests her head on her folded arms. Bare from the waste down, she fights an errant grin as I mount her hips hurriedly.

"Just rubbing," she warns.

I spit into my hand and rub the saliva over my cock. "Right," I pant. "Just rubbing."

Upstairs, music thumps in Conner's room. I pray that his mood will keep him brooding long enough for what's about to happen.

I lay my meat along the deep crack of Molly's butt and test my luck with a handful of each cheek. Molly makes a small sound in her throat as I pry them apart.

"Is that alright?" I ask.

She purses her lips and nods.

It's a little awkward without lube; there's a lot of ass to manage and I have to pin my cock between her buns as I hump. Even so, it's dirty and forbidden and the notion that I might be kissing her asshole with my shaft is just too intoxicating. She let's out these little 'oh's and 'ah's as I grind myself against her. It's a little stupid, but the bare skin-to-skin friction is so pure and erotic.

"Is that what you wanted?"

"Feels...so good," I grunt. The tip of my sausage peeks out from between her buns with a dewy pearl of precum welling up.

Molly chuckles with a little wiggle of her ample hips. "I feel you leaving something sticky back there."

"Can't help it," I huff. "So...fucking hot."

"You can pull my hair if you want. Just be...ah! Mason, gentle!"

"Sorry," I mutter, taking her dark hair by the roots as I feel myself edging closer and closer to ruin.

"I - shit! I can...feel you grinding over my asshole," she says ludicrously. "Are you actually gonna cum from this? Mason? Mason? Oh my GOD!"

Whether it was the warm, pillowy hug of her doughy cheeks, or the insane reality of hearing a woman twice my age moan about the feeling of a hot cock against her little butthole, the entire thing is too much to resist. I erupt up her back with a violent spurt, spurt, spurt, grinding my teeth together in an effort not to shout something unseemly back at her. To my actual regret, more than one rope actually manages to paint the back of her head, even landing amongst the fingers I still have knotted into her hair. The rest, an absurd load drug up from reserve tanks I didn't know I had, splatters heavily against her back in heavy slaps of wet perversion.

"Oh, oh fuck," I pant, surveying my work.

"It's everywhere," Molly moans. Moans?

"What are you..."

She's got her hand underneath herself, rubbing with lurid urgency - the foul mess coating her body drives her into a feverish, greedy fit of lust. I lean off her enough to ease the weight pinning her to the floor, and she makes good on the opportunity to work her angles better.

"S-so fucking...hot!" she pants. "I can f- feel it on my s...skin! God, there's so fucking much! I...I...Oh, shit!"

Even spent already, the scene is too hot; I stroke myself raw while I watch her cum, punishing my wilting prick as she lets me take in her intimate moment. There's wet, dark hair and fingers and squishy lips enough to fall in love with, and Molly grinds a hard cum out of herself shamelessly.

"Ughhh," she groans through the tail end of her affair. "Phew. That was...Gah. I needed that."

"So beautiful," I moan, falling to a seat next to her long, plump body, kneading her ass indulgently as she comes down.

She smiles over at me hazily. "Tell me the truth, did you make a mess?"

I squirm. "Kinda, sorry. I'll go get a towel."

She pushes herself up on her elbows. "Uh uh. Mr. Moody seems happy to sulk upstairs; why don't you head home and we'll do this again sometime?"

"Are you kicking me out?"

She laughs. "I guess I am. Go on, I've gotta get into the shower. Someone jizzed in my hair, and there's some between my butt cheeks. I'll talk to you later."

She was a mean old gal when she wanted to be.

*******

Of course, there was no way we were going to stop there. Her ass became a regular obsession over the next week or two, and she even let me fuck her tits in the garage while Conner distractedly scrolled on his phone upstairs. There was no reason to fear him finding out by that point - Molly made it clear that flunking out of college was going to be the last straw on his rent-free ride, and he was running out of avenues to avoid the conversation. Even so, I had a perfectly good apartment of my own, and she didn't need anyone's permission to sneak out for a little cum cocktail.

I open the door with a shit-eating smirk. "Welcome to, uh, my apartment," I say, stepping aside to let her in. She's dressed plainly in baggy clothes that do nothing to temper my excitement for the body underneath. She won't be needing them anyway.

"Mason, this is not a good neighbourhood. Is this apartment even legal? I'm pretty sure my foot almost went through one of the steps getting up here."

Calling it an 'apartment' might be a little generous. It's the attic of an old Victorian shit heap.

"But you still came," I point out.

She allows herself a little chagrinned smile. "Yeah, well, there was nothing on TV."

I take her jacket and fold it over the back of a chair. "How romantic," I laugh. "Do you want a drink?"

Surprisingly, we manage to find a fair bit to talk about. It's all pretense to our messing around, but a few mediocre drinks slip by before we remember what we're here for.

"You know," she says finally, sliding a hand up my thigh. "I usually don't drive across town for cheap beer on a futon anymore."

"Oh, no?"

She shakes her head playfully. "Nah, not really. Maybe 20 years ago."

I lean in to taste her lips - it's a new indulgence, but one that feels more forbidden than the tug jobs and tit fucks. She's still my best friend's mom, after all.

"So what'd you come for then, if my company isn't enough?"

She licks her lips and gets to work.

My cum has landed across more of her body than any woman I've ever touched by that point, but this is the first time she's taken me into her mouth. She slips to the floor and tugs my pants off with a coy little smirk, wordlessly taking my stiffy into her hand and sliding her lips over the tip. Having her all way down between my thighs feels weirdly lonesome, but watching her bob slowly over my hard cock is heaven.

"I told myself I wasn't going to suck this cock," she moans, rubbing the tip across her lips like a stick of lipstick.

"What changed?" I ask, tucking some hair off her face with a gentle brush of my hand.

She shrugs. "I wanted to."

"You do look so pretty," I tell her as she dives back onto it again, "with my cock in your mouth. Fuck, Molly, that's so perfect. Do that again. Yes, oh shit, just like that. All...all the way down. Godddd," I groan.

"I want to drink your cum," she moans. I'm soaked with her spit, she pumps me in her fist as she looks up for approval. "God, I want every last fucking drop down my throat. I want to taste it, I want to drink it, I just want to...Mmmhm!!"

She eases back onto it as I guide her gently down, sucking and slurping loudly as she hums and groans. It's a cock she's teased a dozen times, and she knows just how to read it.

"Molly, that's...fuck, how do you feel this good?"

"Tell me," she demands.

"It's just p-perfect! Oh, just look at the way you pout with it in your mouth. So fucking pretty. So gorgeous!"

"You think you can cum for me?"

"Of course!"

"Yeah? You sure you don't want my ass again?"

"Keep stroking, please Molly, please, please."

"You like my tits, do you want to finish on those instead?"

"No!"

"Are you sure? I can get them out. Just think about how hot it would be to cover my big, heavy..."

"Molly! Fuck, I..."

She suctions her lips over me just in time as I buck and sputter, spilling yet another gooey load for the woman who's since come to own every moment of my lust. Her eyes are wide and she struggles to keep up with my little jolts, but her greed is too great to quit. Even so, she just does things to me that I can't explain; the mouthful becomes more than a mouthful as hot cum starts to spill out over her lips.

"Ahhhh," she gurgles as she opens her mouth wide, spilling the foul mess onto her chin and chest. Her molars swim in the rest of it, but she's a nasty waterfall of pearly seed by then, and I'm still twitching through the end of a hard nut.

"Mol!" I pant as she tries and fails to scoop it up off her chin with a burbling chuckle. She loses her edge and coughs the sticky wad out with a harsh bark, splattering her prize all over my cock, all over my balls. If I was attached to my shitty couch, I might have cared about the mess, but the sight of my cum sprayed like a shotgun blast all over the place is just too fucking hot to ignore. Aside from that, I have the advantage of youth on my side.

Cum makes a fine lube, and I was ready for more.

"Jesus fucking Christ," she moans a moment later, already flat on her back as I grind my messy cock between her cheeks again. "S-so fucking hot! I can feel your nasty jizz everywhere. Oh god, I can feel it against my hole!"

Her moans are so dirty, so filthy, and I'm just a slave to her perverted whims. Not being inside of her is a crying shame, but she's still reticent about the idea of actually fucking, so pounding myself between her buns will have to do. It's hard not to wonder what she's getting out of it still. A messy face? A hot young guy using her body to get off? Surely a slimy piping of cum across her asshole isn't worth *this* kind of treatment? How does anyone get off to this?

"F-flip me over," she pants. "Flip me over and fuck my tits again. Mason, please, flip me...AH!"

I'm up between them in no time, smearing what's left of the load she fumbled around in a sloppy rush to get her soft old meat pressed together around my cock. Watching myself poke through the top of her cleavage while she gives me the most absurd looks is just too much; she's lost to the heat of her perversion, making faces and uttering obscenities that just weren't meant for pretty girls like her.

"I want your cum," she pants. "I want it, I want it, I want it. Please, baby, fucking blast it right onto me again. Please? Please, Mason, don't make me beg. I want it all, I want every hot, sticky drop on my face, on my tits, in my mouth. Come on. That's it, fuck these tits like they're yours. You gonna do it? Hey? Yeah? Come on, show me how much you love sliding your cock between these big, soft titties baby. Come on! More! Yes, yes! YES!"

I blast the underside of her chin with one, two, three heavy ropes of salty spray. She cackles as I bathe her, mewling and moaning, writhing underneath me as she sneakily rubs herself off. The jetting spurts start to overwhelm me; whatever muscle does the blasting feels tender and tight, but I'm astride a cum drunk angel and the pooling mess on her chest starts to run in little rivers over her collarbones.

"M-Molly," I pant, humping her a few times as I dribble the last of my offering onto her. "I...holy fuck. Oh, shit, that's so much. God damn it."

She smiles up at me, a mix of precious pride and unslaked thirst. Her hair is splayed about her pretty face in a scene that would be nearly tranquil and almost romantic if not for the concerning amount of seed on her body. A double dose of post-nut clarity starts to well up inside of me, and I feel suddenly very naked, and very vulnerable as I climb off her to flop on the bare floor next to her.

"Mmmm," she hums as she runs her hands up my thighs. "So sexy. Look at the mess you made, mister. Gosh, you really must love this body, huh?"

"Molly, I...I feel bad that you didn't get a chance to cum. Do you want me to...Wait, what are you..."

Molly grins from the flat of her back and gets to work on herself, daring me to keep eye contact with her as she masturbates openly.

"I can take it from here," she says in that sultry, confident tone. The idea that this version of Molly was hiding behind the mild-mannered divorcee all along has me stunned. The same woman who's always offering me little snacks while I begrudgingly hang out with her son is lying here in a puddle of jizz, rubbing a hand through her furry pussy as she grins up at me with cum-soaked lips. The way she grinds, rubs, moves, moans, gasps...it's all so hot. So *fucking* sexy.

"H-here it c...comes! Ohshiiiii..." she groans in mere moments, closing her eyes tight as she furiously rubs herself right on through to a clenching, grunting, juddering release.

I'm just lucky to watch from the sidelines, honestly.

*******

Eventually, the cat came out of the bag for Conner, and Molly was forced to put her foot down three weeks later. We still hadn't fucked, but I don't think the things we *were* doing we much purer.

"We've got hours," she says excitedly as I come through the door. She kisses me softly as I step into the hall and kick my shoes off. "He'll be at work till 9:00. You better have so much saved up for me."

Should I feel guilty for using his Mom as a cum rag while he stocks grocery shelves? Maybe. But it's not my fault that she's charging him board for the first time in his adult life. If he wanted more for himself, all he had to do was go to class once in a while instead of playing his Switch in the library for the past 4 years.

Besides, I just love watching her rub.

I'm knelt between her legs on the bed upstairs. Molly rubs with luxurious, slow cruelty as I stroke my cock just inches from her hairy muff. We stare at each other brazenly, occasionally sharing little chaste giggles when we catch each other's eye.

"Your cock is so pretty," she accuses. Her eyebrows work like curious little caterpillars as her brow scrunches and clenches. Naked, her tits sit heavily to either side of her chest. Her toes curl and pinch the duvet. "Stroke it slow for me. That's it. Nice long strokes. Oh, so pretty."

I blush at the epithet; nobody has ever called any bit of me pretty before, let alone my cock. The self restraint that it takes not to lean forward and touch my tip to her wet, pillowy lips is just...

"You really like watching me?" she asks.

"Of course I do," I sigh softly. "Molly, you're so gorgeous. I just love the way you rub and cum for me. It's so fucking sexy."

"Get closer," she moans.

"Molly, I'm..."

"Closer. Come on, just get as close as you can."

I scooch in, bringing my engorged tip within centimeters of her bare pussy. Close enough that her fingers graze it as they circle past on their slow trips around her clit.

"That's it," she gushes. "Keep...keep pumping it for me? You want that, don't you? To make me happy, to pump your cock?"

"More than anything," I pant. "Molly..."

Her body settles into the mattress fractionally, and I gasp as her lips kiss my spongey head with a glancing peck.

There's a first time for everything.

"Mol..."

"Ohhhh," she groans. "I...I want it. Just- rub the tip. Come on, baby, please. Stroke it up against me. That's...Yes, just like that. Ohhhh, god."

I obey at once. This whole business of 'no fucking' was never my idea, but I'm entirely smitten with Molly and want anything she'll give me - the chance to press myself right against her burning need is one that I leap at. I watch my runny precum smear through her dark hairs as she presses her fingers hard against herself. Together, we stroke and rub as best we can, fighting against our better nature all the while.

"We can't...we can't fuck," she pants. That look of concern creeps onto her face all over again. It's the one that always comes before an accident. "Just this. Just rubbing. Ohhhh, but I can feel you leaking onto me. Fuck it's too much."

"I...I can stop if you..."

"Don't you fucking dare," she moans. Her hips work in tight circles now, grinding, actually gridning, her lips against my slick cock. "I need this, you understand? Fuck, Mason, it's been so long since I've had a cock to worship like this. Just...don't slip it in, okay?"

The mind games are off the charts. I try to hold my form as rigidly as I can while I'm still stroking, but Molly's little gyrations are getting less and less controlled. Her moans are louder and her breaths come in sharp gasps each time she slides herself up and down, but I'm practically splashing around in the shallow end and the entire thing is almost too hot to bear.

"D-don't slip...in. Mason, you can't. You hear me?"

Lady, there's more pink every time you slide. Is a pussyjob a thing? Do people cum from this?

"Molly, it's so close!"

She's reduced to a moaning, gasping puddle as she cups her own tits playfully. She eases down, still rubbing hard, but something catches the tip of my cock on her way past this time. I flick away this time, but that had to have been hole.

"Oh," she exclaims with worry. "Mason, what did I say?"

"Molly, that was you!"

"I said," she pants, repeating the motion with tight, precise control, snagging me on her way down again. It's not even the tip; it's the tip of the tip, but she's actively hiding cock between her lips now. "I said not inside."

I groan, not even stroking anymore, just holding myself hard and steady as she grinds up. Down. Up. Down. Looooooong stroke up. Down. Looooooong stroke up. D...down...down...

Down.

All the way down.

In.

"F-fuck!" I cuss as she slides onto me.

"Mason!" she gasps again, still cramming me into her. "I said..."

"You did it!"

She works her hips to stroke me off, still rubbing herself firmly as her delicious hole milks my cock. I know she's playing with me, but her chastised rebuttals are so confusing.

"You weren't...supposed to - fuck! - do that!"

"I didn't!"

"I said not to go inside, Mason!"

"I listened!"

"This is so bad," she grunts. "Fucking me like this. So dirty! So wrong! You're just so naughty, aren't you? And such a bad listener!"

She swallows me to the base, holding me deep inside as she stirs herself up with little bumping grinds. Even from the flat of her back, Molly finds a way to ride me.

"You're not supposed to fuck me," she moans again, playing with her hair, her tits, her tummy, nipping at her own arm, looking anywhere she can. "Ohhhh, baby, this is so wrong. So fucking wrong. This cock isn't supposed to be inside of me!"

I take her hips.

"Oh, fuck, we can't be doing this. This is just...this just isn't right."

"Tell me to stop," I offer. "If you want this to..."

"So much fucking cock," she mewls. "So much hot, dirty cock inside of me," she moans into her shoulder.

"Molly, what the hell do you..."

"Oh, fuck me already," she commands. "Mason, shut the hell up and fuck me already. YES! Fuck! Mason, YES! Oh, fuck yes, baby! That's it, pound this pussy babyyyyyy."

Turns out girls still don't know what the fuck they want at 48. Still, I offered. She made her choice.

I rut her out hard and fast, pounding her while she squeals and flops and jiggles and moans. After what was now months of denial, I pour my heart and soul into that fuck, willing myself to bring her along to the hardest, hottest orgasm she'd ever known. It's a vain goal, but it's what she needs. She needs it. She needs...

"F-fucking cum inside me! Mason, NOW! Please fucking give it to me. All of it, I want all of it. Cum pleasseeeeee, oh fucking hell, I need that cum inside of me!"

Stars swim in my vision and the room goes hazy; the hex she casts is a strong one as she summons every profane drop that I have to give her. My hips work on autopilot as the creamy mess starts to spurt out of her over-full hole. The mess in her pubes builds, as does the little torrent pouring down between her legs. Wet slaps crack on as I work each and every drop up into her heavenly body, and Molly's rising wails finally croak out into raspy, stuttering nonsense as she drinks me deeply through her own eruption.

It's a fucking mess. A right, nasty scene.

I, for one, am spent for the moment. I collapse alongside Molly, who's affinity for hot loads knows no bounds. She bundles me up in her arms and pets my hair, kisses my forehead, as she plays with her earnings lazily. The sucking squelches are a little overstimulating after my performance, but she whispers the sweetest praise for what I've done to her, the gift I've left, the cum I brought her to.

It's the first of several deposits I'll make tonight, with hundreds more to follow.

*******

Molly hums next to me as I work to dry each dish before she hands the next over. Her cheeks are rosy and her chest is flushed - we'd only just finished each other off over the counter ten minutes prior. The heat of it still runs down her thighs. Again.

"There's still soap on that one, mister," she chides me, pointing to a missed spot on her favourite pot.

"Sorry," I mutter.

The front door opens and closes as Kroger's employee of the month loudly bangs his way through the entry hall.

"Hi sweetie!" Molly calls.

"Hi," he grunts back.

"How was work?"

"Fine," he says, sticking his head around the corner to glare at us. "What time's dinner?"

"Oh," Molly chuckles. "Sorry, love; we're going out. There's some mac and cheese in the pantry if you want to make that for yourself?"

He shoots me a spiteful look. I shrug back. "Giovanni's."

His mouth opens and shuts like a fish out of water as Molly and I smile at each other happily.

"Just...just shut the fuck up, man, how about that? God, I fucking HATE you guys!"

Conner stomps off to his room angrily as we share a small chuckle. Mine feels a little guiltier than hers.

"Don't mind him," she says, passing me a wet plate. "He'll come around."

Honestly, Molly and I have a good hand on cumming enough for this household. If he doesn't like it, he's welcome to leave.

Lord knows it'd do him some good.