A date?

I was sitting in my room, the lights off, with only the cold glow of my phone in my hands. Jeremy had sent me another link—“Live feed + full chat history, so you don’t miss a thing, loser.” My stomach clenched as I opened the chat. It had been last night, shortly after the sauna. I knew exactly what was coming, and yet I couldn’t look away.

Through the hidden camera in the bedroom, I saw everything in real time.

My mother was kneeling on the bed, her upper body bent deeply forward so that her ass jutted high into the air. The thin nightgown had been pushed completely up her back and hung only as a useless bundle around her neck. Her heavy, plump tits dangled freely, the thick dark nipples stiff and hard as pebbles, swaying slightly with every movement. With one hand, she reached down and greedily kneaded her left tit, squeezing the soft flesh together, pulling on the nipple and tugging at it, while the other hand reached from behind between her widely spread thighs.

Two thick fingers were buried deep inside her dripping, glistening cunt, thrusting slowly and deeply, circling with relish in the wet heat, and then getting faster and harder. Squelching, wet sounds echoed through the room as her juices ran down her thighs. Her breath came in gasps, heavy, her face flushed red with lust.

Right in front of her on the bed lay the cell phone—the photo of Jeremy naked, his legs slightly spread, his thick, semi-erect cock clearly visible between his thighs. She stared at the image as if hypnotized, biting her lower lip hard and moaning his name hoarsely: “Jeremy… oh fuck, Jeremy…” As she did so, she fingered herself even deeper, her whole body trembling with pleasure.

At that very moment, as her fingers moved faster and her hips lifted slightly, her phone vibrated. Jeremy had timed it perfectly. He was sitting somewhere in his apartment, watching her live through the cameras, and texted her just as she was at her hottest.

Jeremy: Ms. Tachibana… I can’t stop thinking about something. Was that thing at your front door just a joke about the date? We’ve “coincidentally” run into each other three times now. At the bar, while dancing, in the sauna… Is this maybe a sign? I know I’m way too young and you’re… just incredible. But I can’t stop thinking about it.

The message popped up on her screen. I saw her freeze, her fingers still deep inside her. Her eyes widened. She read it. And then she started typing—slowly, with trembling hands.

Jeremy waited for exactly this moment. He deleted his own message. Instead, a new one appeared:

Jeremy: I’m sorry… that was totally stupid of me. Please forget about it right away. What was I thinking… a woman as beautiful and elegant as you… and then some young idiot writes something like that to you. I’m sorry. I’ll delete it right away.

My mother blinked. The deleted message was gone, but she had read it. Her fingers didn’t stop moving—on the contrary. They grew faster, deeper. Her pussy smacked softly, glistening with moisture. She felt guilty; I could see that clearly. Her brow furrowed slightly; she bit her lip and murmured softly, “He’s still so young… this isn’t right…” But her hips still thrust against her hand, her tits bounced, and her eyes glazed over with lust.

Then she typed—at length, breathlessly, while she fucked herself.

Mom: Jeremy… no, please don’t delete this. I’m really glad you’re writing this. It wasn’t a joke at the door. I meant it. Three times “by chance”… it really feels like a sign. You’re so young, so attractive… and I’m an old woman with a son your age. I feel terribly guilty when I think about it. But… I can’t deny that I feel incredibly flattered. ❤

As she typed, her masturbation grew more intense. Her fingers were now thrusting deep inside her, her thumb circling hard on her swollen clit. Her back arched, her full tits jiggled, and a soft, stifled moan escaped her lips. She came—hard, trembling, legs spread wide, as she stared at the chat window and waited for his reply.

Jeremy had planned it all out perfectly. He’d caught her at the exact moment she was hot and wet, and he’d played the shy card to perfection—manipulative, cold, calculating. And she fell for it.

I sat there, clutching my phone tightly, tears of rage in my eyes. “That damn asshole! He plays the insecure boy, and she buys it! My own mother… masturbating to him, texting him that she’s turned on, even though she knows how young he is!” Jealousy burned like acid in my chest. At the same time, my cock was throbbing painfully hard in my pants. I hated myself for it. I hated him. I hated her. And I couldn’t do anything but watch as my tormentor conquered my mother piece by piece.

Jeremy: See, loser? She wants me. And she feels guilty—that just makes it hotter for her. Next step coming soon.

I sat in my room, phone in hand, staring at the message Jeremy had just sent me—a long voice memo excerpt plus a few screenshots from his “contact’s” office chat. He’d manipulated everything again. As always.

He had specifically approached one of my mother’s coworkers (who actually didn’t like her, a certain Ms. Meier who was always badmouthing her behind her back). Then he had asked her to “be a little nicer to your colleague Tachibana, who’s not having an easy time right now,” and told her what he was up to. He had offered her €500 for it. Meier had done it. And of course, she had told my mother all about it over coffee during the lunch break.

Thanks to the hidden voice recording in the office (which Ms. Meier had made), I heard everything. My mother was sitting with Ms. Meier in the small kitchenette. At first, just small talk. Then my mother suddenly blushed and lowered her voice.

“You know… I have a friend who’s going on a date for the first time in ages. He’s much younger. She’s totally excited and at the same time totally overwhelmed. Back when she was young and then married for so long… there were no rules. But today? What do men actually expect these days? How far do you go on the first, second, third date? I—uh—she doesn’t want to come across as naive… but she has no idea.”

Meier grinned widely, leaned forward, and lowered her voice as well. She loved playing the “experienced” one. “Oh, sweetie, it’s really simple. These days, everything follows the base system. Just like in baseball. Each base represents a stage—and everyone knows without saying it what’s expected after how many dates. If you keep dating, you just go with the flow. Otherwise, you’ll quickly come across as prude or ****.”

She counted it off on her fingers with relish, and her voice grew increasingly sexualized: “Base 1—after the first date, if he pays: a kiss. A French kiss, not just a peck on the cheek. The guy expects you to show him that you’re open. If you don’t do that, he’ll think you’re not interested.”

“Step 2 – second date: Groping. He wants to touch your tits, really squeeze them, maybe even under your bra. You let him, maybe even rub his cock through his pants. That’s standard. If you put up a wall there, he’ll think you’re uptight.”

“Base 3 – third date: Handjob or blowjob, depending on the situation. You take his dick in your hand, jerk him off really well, or you give him a blowjob. Many already expect a proper deepthroat so he can see you’re serious. Some also want fingers in your pussy or for you to let him finger you.”

“Base 4—that’s the home base, usually on the fourth date: Full-on sex. Real fucking. Creampie, anal, whatever he wants. If you don’t sleep with him by then, most guys think you’re just playing with them. And if you keep dating… then it’s just clear that you move up a base after every subsequent date. No discussion. That’s the unspoken deal.”

Meier laughed lewdly. “Some guys even count extra bases: For example, if you show him your tits on the second date or let him finger you from behind. Or if you send him photos—that counts as an extra half-base. These days, men expect you to open up quickly. Otherwise, they’ll look for someone younger.”

My mom listened, her cheeks bright red, her legs pressed together slightly. She nodded slowly, as if soaking it all in. “I see… so if things go well… then after the third date, it’s basically already clear that… more will happen.”

I sat there, seething with rage. That damn slut Meier is telling my mom that she should already be sucking his dick and fucking him on the third date—and my mom is listening as if that’s normal! At the same time, I felt my own dick getting hard. The thought of Jeremy systematically pushing my mom through these “bases” made me sick and horny at the same time.

Jeremy just wrote me a short message about it: Jeremy: She’s got the rules in her head now. And she wants me. On the next date, I’m going to take her through all the bases. And you get to just watch again.