"Mom."
"Huh, excuse me?"
"My mom; don't play dumb, she hasn't come home, and I know she's probably over there with you. You're fucking her again, aren't you? Where you doing her when I called, huh? Did I mess up your little fuck session, motherfucker?!! Hell, dad is probably happy about this sorry shit! Didn't give a fuck when we left so you two can get real fucking cozy...YOU'RE FUCKING MOM AGAIN, AREN'T YOU?!!"
"I AIN'T FUCKING-HER!!" I lost it, caught up in her verbal insanity.
"Oh, then who are you doing it with; that little bitch Courtney?!! Man, you just can't stop screwing my family members, can you? Well I've got two more sisters you can add to your fucking list-ASSHOLE!!" I was grateful when she slammed the phone in my face. There was no way I was outing her grandmother.
"Are you two, back together?" Catherine was sitting on my bed staring out into space when I appeared in the doorway holding her discarded lingerie.
"You shouldn't have done that."
"It was the right thing to do." She didn't sound like she believed her own words as I scratched my head trying to figure things out.
"No, it wasn't."
"Very well then, I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask for a caveat; I need you to sign a non-disclosure agreement." I was floored, caught, taken back for a loop believing our coupling was premeditated. Catherine still sat on the edge of my bed looking away unable to meet my gaze.
"I'm going to go take a shower, let yourself out." I tossed her lingerie on the bed without looking.
BAD M.I.L.F Volume 3-The New Batch Ch. 2
Those damn McIntyre women had done it again and I was left reeling yet again as their matriarch, Catherine Brennan asked me to sign a nondisclosure agreement. This after we'd just spent hours screwing the hell out of one another. I hit the showers, Catherine let herself out. Two days later I was lounging in one of the study halls when I was approached by a familiar face.
"Hey, thought that was you; what it do, cutie?"
"Oh, hey what's up?"
"Wow, you really know how to make a girl feel welcome." Malaya Padilla was standing over me wearing this form fitting black dress that looked like a throwback to the sixties. I noticed she still preferred a mary jane type shoe wondering if she were into mod fashion. The dress had a shiny quality to its surface hugging Malaya's sleek curves perfectly. That coupled with her thick horn-rimmed glasses and dark hair which clung tightly to her oval shaped head in a side bang contributed to a smoldering quality about her person.
"Excuse you, I was studying."
"Studying Netflix, yeah right; so, why're you moping publicly?" She unslung her purse placing it on the floor as she took a seat.
"Personal." I was supposed to be studying but ended up looking at an online show on my phone.
"Don't shoot me; wild guess would be Catherine Brennan, eh?" I perked up at the sound of her name immediately side eyeing Malaya. She stared back with a fake smile on her face as I thought back to my tryst with the voluptuous mature.
"You bitch."
"Finding our inner drama queen, are we? Guilty as charged; tell me you didn't like the way I dolled her up for you and I'll call you a fucking liar. Dean Brennan has an awesome figure for her age; all tits and that big ole booty. What's not to love?"
"What's in it for you?"
"My job, I'm her personal fucking assistant, ass wipe; besides I like that stuffy old bag and it was nice seeing her getting some for a change."
"She tell you about it?"
"Well I admit pushing a few buttons; you know how hard it was finding the right look for her, getting her properly shaved and made up?!! Fuck man, you could make one hell of a documentary out of that shit alone."
"Thanks."
"Look I told her not to do the nondisclosure thing; but her daughter was pulling all kinds of lame shit, getting into her fucking head." Malaya reached down pulling some lipstick from her purse, reapplying it to her prominent lips.
"Carry Anne?"
"That her name? Golden bitch all full of herself and entitled as fuck. She's so fucking dismissive, a true sociopath if you ask me; sent me out to get lunch and everything so I wouldn't hear what they were talking about! She had me triggered the moment we laid eyes on one another!"
"Yeah, she's like that." Malaya had unknowingly opened a window I wasn't privy to regarding Catherine's motives. I straitened up wondering what Carry Anne would do next.
"So, you signed it; the nondisclosure agreement?"
"No!"
"What, they didn't offer you enough?"
"Huh?"
"Did you even look at it; geez man, you're so incredibly dense. You know you can make some good coin with those, man. You don't even know what they're offering, dude. Dean come from "old money" if you get my drift, cutie." Malaya was looking at her phone while running me down.
"You know, you sound like a pimp." She looked up from her phone with a sly smirk on her face that made me uneasy. Malaya slapped a hand down on my inner thigh, rubbing it slightly as she regarded me still looking down at her phone in intervals.
"You would totally know, babe." She stood up slinging her purse.
"Yeah?!!"
"Gotta go hon, missing my bar crawl with the girls; mind if I call you later, could get interesting?" Malaya was already walking out of the study hall as my gaze dropped to the subtle sway of her derriere. She was gone before I even knew if I wanted to answer. Her perfume lingered in the air after she was gone.
Restless after that conversation learning that Carry Anne McIntyre was somewhere still pulling the strings; I decided to go for a run around the campus pavilion to work on some of my issues. Left wondering when the next shoe would drop, my mind wandered back to the exact second, Carry Anne walked in on me postcoital kissing her eighteen year-old-daughter. Her facial features were stark, stone faced looking more like a mother than at any time I'd ever known since meeting her in kitchen. Her daughter had received two slaps to the cheeks for stepping out of line. Carry Anne left me with a barb meant to demoralize, but that nugget had been debunked when her older daughter blew up my phone. Now I'd learned that she was pulling strings even with her own mother, apparently gaslighting the Dean of Students into offering me paperwork to ensure my silence. I pushed my body to the limit, stopping only when my phone started ringing.
"Hey!"
"Yeah, what's up?" Chrystal still sounded shaky after two days, my shoulders tensed up instantly. I looked around the pavilion noticing a few people hanging around.
"It's been a while since we talked."
"Yeah, I been busy with classes and stuff." I'd been with Chrystal long enough to realize when she was trying to lead a conversation.
"What kind of stuff?"
"Life."
"That's not an answer; look, you don't have to be so distant with me. Don't I have any credit left with you; no feelings or anything?" Desperation was already seeping into her speech.
"Depends."
"Yeah, and what?"
"Whether you still want to know if you're a better FUCK than your MOTHER!!" Chrystal hung up leaving me alone with the stillness and evening breeze. I took it all in looking up at the downtown skyline in the distance.
Later that evening I was sitting in my living room, my phone chimed with another selfie from Chrystal. She was lying on a bed presumably in her dorm or what passed as living quarters there. It had the appearance of a hotel room making me wonder the circumstances. This pic was different being a perspective shot using a selfie stick. Chrystal was lying prone on her belly as her huge cheeks were apparent just over her shoulders from the camera vantage point. She was wearing this lime colored thong that was little more than an outline on her skin. There was an inordinate amount of care taken in the lighting of what turned out to be a series of pictures designed to get my attention. The second of these photos had Chrystal kneeling upright in her bed with a hand covering her breasts while the other held the selfie stick aloft. She looked more like the woman I'd come to know, the woman who exuded confidence along with a staggering sexuality. I think I missed her at this point but attributed the nostalgia wave to fond memories of better times during our past relationship. The third gift sent my way was a short video clip. I knew what it would be even before it was opened.
"Shit." Chrystal fell back on an old standby using my Achilles Heel against me with the clip expertly focused on her enormous, monstrous butt. Fifty-eight inches of twerking, jiggling flesh lit up the window of my phone as I sat watching entranced over and over again. Chrystal had dispensed with the thong leaving only hard tan lines. Fifteen minutes later, my phone was ringing, and I knew I shouldn't answer it.
"Chrystal, thanks for the photos and the videos."
