A Mother's Lust

Content warning: this chapter, again, contains cuckoldry. Same as before, this is written from the POV of the male cheater, not the cuckold. There is also dialogue at the end that references abusive family relationships - but if you've been following this far, you're probably okay with that.

Many thanks to everyone who commented on the last chapter. I know I'm not usually this fast with my content, but I tried a little harder to get the potluck dealt with before the end of the month. Thank you all for your patience. I hope you enjoy.

It probably goes without saying that my encounter with Marilyn in the bathroom had easily put the fear of God back in me. Once I was out of there, I did not even know where to head next. The living room? My friend's room? Marilyn was probably in the first and her grandson in the latter. Neither option felt appealing at all.

I lingered in the corridor for a while, physically and mentally trapped between those two unpleasant possibilities. All this time, I was terrified of anyone walking into the corridor and catching me there, standing around aimlessly.

When Betty stumbled out of Karla's room, I nearly had a heart attack. Karla had done a good job disguising the rope marks. She must have used makeup on her sister's neck. The sex, however, had been a little harder to cover up. Betty still looked like she had just woken up. Her eyes had a sort of emptiness to them that felt obvious in a very dangerous way. She shot me a vacant smile once she noticed me.

"Hey..."

"You do

not

want to go into the living room," I hurried to whisper.

"Huh?" Betty tilted her head sideways. Adorable, really. Irresistible even, if I wasn't so hopelessly terrified.

"Your mother... She knows about me and Karla. She might be able to tell you've just had sex."

To my growing frustration, Betty only blinked once and paused. I know it was probably my fault she was acting this silly to begin with, but at that point I was not in the mood for accountability.

"Peter," she shot me a lazy smile. "You don't know the things I got past my mom over the years. I'll be fine."

I wanted to grab her and shake her until she saw some sense. I wanted to snarl at her. I would have even considered slapping or pinching her a bit. Unfortunately, I had a feeling she would do something stupid if I were to do any of that. The last thing I wanted was more attention from other guests in that potluck. Clutching my fists, I could only watch as Betty tried to walk casually back into the living room. I couldn't stop staring at her until she turned and greeted her family. Even her voice sounded unfocused. Not that I could really hear much else. Behind me, another sudden voice gained priority by virtue of startling me.

"Good. That saves us some time."

I turned around to find Karla locking her bedroom door once again, now from the outside. She didn't seem concerned at all about the fact she had just allowed her own sister to potentially make the affair even more widely known.

"Karla, we-"

She pushed her index finger against my lips in a deliberately slow motion.

"Shh... You don't want the kids to hear you, right?" Karla pointed at my friend's door. It

was

close enough to make me reconsider speaking up.

"Then-" I tried to whisper, but Karla just pushed me against the wall and pressed her body against mine.

"Mmm... You showed Betty who's boss, back there. I should have made my son tie me up instead... It should have been me..."

"Karla..." I tried again in an exhausted tone.

"I know baby..." she stroked my cheek. "We'll have more chances to tear each other apart and play with the pieces. But right now... I need you to take a piece of me this instant."

"Will you focus?!" I growled, trying to push her away. "We have a problem."

"Indeed we do..." she wrapped her arms around me, still squishing her curvy body against mine. I felt her nails trace a tantalizing path along the back of my neck. "

You

need to fuck my adulterous pussy again, and yet we're both still dressed."

"Marilyn

knows

, Karla," I grabbed her by the shoulders, shaking her mildly. "She knows about us."

My only response from her was a mild bite on the neck, along with a couple of kisses there.

"God... this corridor won't do," she muttered. "Not if we want real fun."

"Karla-"

"The kitchen! Follow me."

She even grabbed my hand, the crazy woman. I had to pull myself free as she led the way there. The kitchen was literally in front of the living room. Whatever was going on inside Karla's head at that specific moment, it was far from rational. I didn't even have the heart to glance at the couch to search for Marilyn or Betty. For all I knew, the secret was already out and we were all doomed.

Karla only closed the door halfway through. Typical of her to disregard security the more aroused she got. Without delay, she bent over the sink. Her perfect round ass wiggled alluringly.

"I don't care what you do to me, Peter. Fuck my pussy. Fuck my ass. Pull my hair. Waterboard me. Whatever. Just do it

now

!"

I couldn't even unpack her batshit insane demands at this point. Ironic, I know. Here she was, Karla in total meltdown due to her arousal, and I couldn't even enjoy the control I had over her due to my own inner panic.

"Look at me, Karla," I leaned on the sink, right next to her. "Look at me! Your mother, Marilyn, knows about the affair. She knows when you've had sex just by looking at you!"

"Peter, please..." her words came out pleadingly. I had never heard such a genuine tone from her. "I am begging you to fuck me now.

Please.

"

She pulled her jeans down with some difficulty, just enough to bare her ass and pussy. Her green eyes glanced upwards at me. There was no malice in them now. Just an endless well of desperate lust and supplication. It was a lovely thing to see, marred only by the unfortunate circumstances.

I opted for a different approach. I placed one hand on her ass, letting two fingers caress her pussy very slowly. Even knowing her, her gash felt unusually wet. Just as she parted her lips to moan, I put two fingers from my other hand inside her mouth. My hope was that this would restore some sanity to her, even if sanity had never been Karla's strongest suit.

My friend's mother released soft moans as I used my fingers on both of her ends. All the while, my anxiety didn't let me stop glancing at the ajar door for one moment. Karla, now closing her eyes, kept swaying her body happily as she enjoyed that little session of pleasure.

"Better?"

She gave me a short, adorable little nod.

"Good. Because now I need you to tell me what we're gonna do about Marilyn."

Karla raised a brow and opened her eyes. Before I could adequately read them, she was biting my fingers. Hard.

"Argh!"

I had to use my other hand to pull her curly hair back and free my fingers from her teeth. Contrary to my expectations, when I was finally free from her bite, Karla's expression did not betray any sadistic glee. She looked... moody, even.

"You fucking bitch! Use your brain for once, for God's sake!"

"God, Peter. Does it fucking look like I want to hear about my mother now?!" I had never seen Karla so angry. Unfortunately, I was not in the mood to let my shock force me to back down.

"What you want doesn't matter!" I snarled. "She

knows

!"

"What I want is the

only thing that matters

," she hissed. "The sooner we fuck, the sooner I can think things through. And the sooner you quit babbling about my mother, the sooner we can fuck."

I couldn't argue that Karla's mind was not in it. Just looking at her eyes was enough for me to tell something was off. Not that I could understand why. We'd had sex not that long ago, and it had clearly been the sadistic kind that she enjoyed. Still, it didn't take a great deal of clarity to figure out having sex in the kitchen, right next to the living room where the whole family was gathered was a bad idea.

"We can't have sex here," I declared with some finality.

"Why is this any different from anything else you've already done today?!" she hissed.

"There's no lock on the door. Your family can walk in on us. And, as I think I may have already mentioned: your mother knows we're having an affair."

Karla grimaced, put one hand between her legs and started rubbing her wet pussy. I had never seen her pleasuring herself like this. There was more than a hint of desperation in her movements. Meanwhile, my hand was still hurting from her bite. I had to watch in stunned silence as Karla, bending over the sink and the dirty dishes inside it, desperately rubbed her clit in search of pleasure.

"Peter, I can't take this," she moaned. "I've never asked you to do anything for me. I've given you all I am. I've given you Betty. And now I'm asking you to please,

please

give me your cock."

Her words were so genuine I even felt sorry for her. How could I not, when all she was doing was begging me to do what I always wanted to do to her anyway? I approached her once again.

"Karla. Look at me."

She turned her lust-maddened emerald eyes towards mine. Her mouth was agape in a permanent sigh as her fingers tried, in vain, to quell the flames that burnt within. I put my fingers on her pussy again. Karla looked adorable as she bit her lip and let her eyes do the pleading from then on.

"You're irresistible," I started caressing her again. "I'd fuck you right here if I could."

"You can..." she moaned as she wiggled her ass once more.

Was this all an act? I pondered it then and there. Karla was the sort of woman that could guiltlessly tug at my heartstrings only to get herself some steamy, adrenalin-filled sex in the kitchen. Not to mention this woman had already pretended to be as madly in love with me as I was with her. I didn't even feel comfortable showing compassion to her, out of fear this was another one of her mind games.

"I can't..." I muttered cautiously, trying to let my fingers on her pussy soothe her. "We're too close to them. And the door..."

"Peter..." she growled, staring past me at the kitchen door. There seemed to be something on her sex-starved mind all of a sudden.

"We really need to think this through..." I let my eyes linger on her beautiful, freckled ass. My fingers didn't stop.

Karla didn't reply.

"Especially

today

," I was reluctant to mention Marilyn again so soon, given how Karla had just reacted to it.

Without a word, she pushed herself away from the counter and pulled up her jeans. I didn't think for a second I had satisfied her anywhere close to enough. She put one hand on my crotch and groped me. Despite all my words of caution, she could tell quite easily I was hard again.

"Karla?" I raised a brow. Her silence was making me uncomfortable. And to think I'd wanted her to shut up so often in the past.

"If I can guarantee the door won't open, you'll fuck me here?" she demanded.

"What?"

"You heard me, Peter," she widened her eyes, as if letting them do the rest of the talking.

I had never seen this side of Karla's. She was usually a complete stranger to sanity, but this was still a far cry from her usual self. Her eyes. God, her

eyes

. Somehow, they scared me more than Marilyn's in that state. Hope, cruelty and bottomless lust swirled together in those jade pearls with a fire in them I had never seen before. As if the little rationality left in her was just one small push away from breaking off for good. I wasn't certain if she wouldn't attack me if I said 'no' here. And her previous mention of waterboarding, while fleeting, made me wonder what she would really be willing to do to the both of us if she got truly desperate for a fix. It was, needless to say, as tempting as it was terrifying.

"Guarantee with something other than your words, right?" I tried to proceed with caution.

Karla smirked and bit her lip. Her arms wrapped themselves around my torso. Even now, over my shirt, I could feel her nails tracing lines along my back.

"I have an idea," she giggled. "You'll

love

it."

This had bad news written all over it. Karla strutted past me and left me alone in the kitchen. My thoughts were all over the place. I was worried about Marilyn, about Karla's mental state, about the battalion of relatives that could still learn of our secret before the day was done...

Had Karla ever made plans this erratically? Never in our affair had it struck me as if she was improvising at all. All those intricate plans, could many of them have been devised during similar moments of mad lust? Had this whole relationship only started because, randomly, Karla had got a little too horny while I had been around? Or had I truly, finally broken her focus for good? I didn't know whether I preferred to believe the hurtful first option or the terrifying second one.

I couldn't believe this lack of control was normal for her, though. Karla had been far too clever in the past. Her plans had often been sophisticated, properly timed and flawlessly cruel. This sloppiness was new. Letting me in on the

improvisation

was new. Even the way she'd walked out of the kitchen had been a little too hasty, rather than the cool, confident stride she often employed when walking around her house. Her voice, in the corridor, sounded just as impatient.

"Honey! We need to do the dishes!"

I heard three impatient knocks immediately afterwards. She was at my friend's room. I felt more than just a little dread after this realization. While I had just admitted to Marilyn how my little black soul enjoyed tormenting Karla's son, the truth was I did not want to tangle with him at that point. At that point all I needed was for Karla to snap out of her lust-fueled craziness and for her to then let me know just how screwed we both were.

"Don't make me go in there!" she knocked at the door some more.

The door opened wordlessly. I heard Karla's quick footsteps approaching the kitchen once more. She practically dragged her son into the room. The door pushed shut behind them this time, at least.

"Fucking finally," Karla sighed.

My friend looked horrified. I couldn't blame him. In his place, I wouldn't have wanted to be trapped in a room with me and his mother either. I must have looked quite scared myself, at that moment. He immediately approached the sink, presumably to actually do the dishes as his mother had requested.

"Whoa, whoa!" his mother grabbed him by the shoulders, laughing. Even Karla's laughter sounded unfocused now. Unfocused, but not any less cruel. "

You

're suddenly eager!"

"What are we doing, Karla?" I ran a hand through my hair with a sigh. It was remarkable how my empathy grew when I was under distress. "Why bring him here?"

"Have you already forgotten, Peter?" she gave me a mocking, disapproving look. "Discipline, authority,

fun

!"

Her son and I both watched as she quickly placed a chair in front of the door to the living room. She had a horrible grin on her face as she did it.

"You're going to be our guard, honey. While

we

do the work."

Before her son had the time to really work out what she meant, Karla grabbed him again and pushed him onto the chair. I guess I figured it out before him: his weight was meant to keep the door from opening. Being seated in a way that gave him full view of what we were about to do was probably just a happy coincidence, but I could now understand why she had been so happy with this idea. Seeing the horrible realization dawn on him made me quite happy with the plan myself.

"You know what will happen if you get off that chair, don't you, honey?" Karla's green eyes hardened as she stared down at him. I can't imagine what he saw in his mother's eyes. Given her state, probably nothing good.

My friend nodded miserably. His mother still kept a hand on his shoulder and a vicious glare on her face. She caressed his hair.

Then

she pulled it. I almost envied him.

"And you know what you must keep your eyes on during this time, don't you?!" she hissed at him.

"Karla," I stepped in. My anxiousness was keeping me from fully enjoying the spectacle of her cruelty, but it was certainly having some effect on me. "Quit it. We're going to fuck. You'll get your fix from me."

She had already bitten her lip, just with this little chance to inflict pain on someone. Still, hearing me say these words clearly pleased her.

"I'll get my fix from the both of you," she smirked at me and then at her son. He was still flinching, as her fingers were still buried in his hair. "But you're right. Let's not waste time."

Karla took his phone from his pocket without any resistance and handed it back to him. Her hand jabbed the device against his chest impatiently a couple of times until he picked it up.

"Put that playlist of yours on," she commanded. Even the playfulness in her voice was ruined by how impatient she seemed. "Work is more fun with music!"

He complied. The moment the first song started playing, Karla swiped the little cellphone from her son's hands. She put the device on the counter, just far enough for him to need to get up if he wanted to reach it. Even in her impatient state, she was happy to

dare

him to try any sort of defiance. I think the three of us already knew he wasn't going to.

I was already familiar with the playlist we now had playing in the kitchen. The songs my friend liked were noisy indeed. I had suffered through his playlist multiple times before the affair had even started. My friend's musical tastes had somehow pushed him towards heavy metal and the many, many variants of the genre that I would never be able to name or understand by myself. I really could not tell any of his songs apart, nor could I really enjoy the noise. Still, I could not deny it made me more comfortable to have that noise in the background while I fucked Karla so close to her relatives.

"Isn't this nice, honey?" Karla smirked at her son as she undressed before us. "You'll get to associate some mother-son bonding memories with your favorite songs!"

That remark made me wonder, again, how crazy Karla really was at that moment. Everything this far in had had a special twist of evilness that most people would probably struggle to come up with spontaneously. If Karla really had this instant, improvised nastiness at her disposal, she was truly extraordinary in more ways than one.

Fully undressed, Karla performed a happy little spin. It seemed the joy of torturing her son was already making her just a little less erratic. After adjusting her red curls and getting them out of her face, she shook her freckled tits horizontally for me.

"Well, Peter? Don't chicken out now," she giggled. "Show me your cock."

You may think I'm crazy too, but seeing glimpses of her normal, slightly more rational self was enough to calm me down just a little. While I knew Karla's levels of caution left much to be desired, seeing her naked, horny and playful was somehow soothing to me. Though it might have been illusory, I felt like everything was going to be okay. That this was just another regular encounter for us. So I put on a smile and took off my own clothes. Karla's little show of cruel playfulness had evidently given me another raging erection.

"Mmm..." she gave me a very light stroke, then kissed me on the neck. "Can't believe I need you to fuck me twice the same day."

She turned around and strutted towards her son, still sitting obediently on his chair.

"You see honey," she leaned forward, right in front of him. "Mommy is in heat today."

Her hair and breasts, two of her loveliest parts, were dangling right in front of his face. I had to wonder if this wasn't, somehow, arousing to him. More fucked up things had already happened by then.