Back home

It was several hours later when the fuckfest finally began to die down. By that time my whole body soaked in sweat and semen, maybe twenty dicks had skewered me, I had lost count of my orgasms after half a dozen, and was completely off my face, peacefully drifting on a quiet, hazy cloud above my jolting, shaking and convulsing body. More orgasms were still rocking it as a few diehard boys still managed to extract the last bit of fucking power from their loins, but the cumming sensation only came to my mind through a thick filter, muffled and dazed, like a ripple in a pool, tranquile and soothing.

I hadn’t ever felt so good in my life.

When the last few boys finally zipped up their pants and left, all who remained were the battered girls. We didn’t talk and evaded eye contact as one after the other managed to recover a bit and get up. We tidied the place up a bit and tried to clean ourselves, but it was hard to do since there wasn’t any water in the classroom. In the end there was little else we could do than simply put on our clothes again over the dried crust of bodily fluids scattered everywhere across our skin, and go home.

When I got there, my mother was waiting for me at the kitchen table. She didn’t mention the fact that I had returned several hours later than I usually did, but she had a worried look across her face when she poured me tea; still she tried to be cheerful and managed a smile when she asked: “So, how was school today?”

I looked at her as if she had just come from Mars.

“Mom… surely you know what happened? That TRAP stuff? “

“Yeah, yeah, of course! But surely it didn’t have any effect in school, right? “

She didn’t look like she even believed it herself. I sighed, and just said: “Mom. Really. You don’t wanna know. “

That was the drop dead end of the conversation. We just sat in silence on either side of the kitchen table, each sunken in our own thoughts, and drank tea.

It was only broken when we heard the front door open, and my dad’s voice in the hallway: “Honey, I’m home! Come here for a moment, will ya!”

My mom immediately rose and went to greet him. She tried her hand at their usual kiss on the cheek, but he waived her away, and just said: “Turn and bend!”

Gone were a lifetime of civilization and respect for women’s rights. Gone was the familiar dad I had known my entire life. And not just him; mom had naturally taken TRAP to her heart just like everyone seemed to have. Without any comment, she turned away from him, bent forward to lean her hands on a small dressing table, and offered him her ass.

As if it was the most ordinary thing in the world, he stepped up to her and lifted up her dress. When he noticed the panties she was wearing underneath, he just turned to me and said: “Sarah, the scissors please, my dear!”

When I brought them he only needed two cuts to turn a nice set of black lace panties into a shapeless piece of cloth which dropped to the floor. He hummed in appreciation at the sight of her naked ass gleaming up to him as he casually handed me back the scissors. Still acting with the confidence of a man who is doing nothing else than exercising his natural rights, he unzipped his cock and stepped up to her. Not bothered at all that his teenage daughter was watching, he slapped his bare hand once across each buttock, like some sort of preparation ritual, then stuck his dick into her pussy right underneath it without further ado.

He didn’t start banging right away, he just stood there behind her, pushing his dick up to the hilt into her, and said: “Ah, your pussy is still as tight and juicy as it was twenty years ago, my little slut wife! A really comfortable dick sheath, lush and warm, with that slight quiver of anticipation! Exactly the right kind of pleasure hole for a man to repose in after coming home after a long working day!””

It was such a weird thing… my dad had always liked complimenting my mother with all kinds of things: her brains, her character, and yes, her looks as well. Apparently he still did. But yesterday, he wouldn’t have dreamt about complimenting her with her pussy attributes. Never in those terms, anyway. And certainly not in front of his daughter.

He started a long and slow thrust from his loins, not rushing anything, like a man who is really looking forward to enjoying himself for a while. Mom moaned, but didn’t attempt to get up straight or resist him in any other way. I watched in fascination as he cleaved her open. He picked up speed, adding his grunts to mom’s rising moans. The dressing table was having trouble standing up as the might of his impaling thrusts made it rock dangerously. He was a middle-aged man, but it was clear that the power of his loins hadn’t started withering just yet.

Mom came first. I bet she detested it, being taken almost like an animal, humiliated by her very own husband… but she was unable to hide her howls of ecstasy emerging under the fury of his appropriating drive into the core of her womanhood.

If he responded at all to that, it certainly wasn’t by going slow for a bit and giving her time to recuperate. He rather further increased his speed, banging her even harder as her forces fled her body in the aftermath of orgasm. She lost the grip of her hands on the dressing table, and her torso fell down across it, bending her forward even more. It looked as if the table could collapse any second, but dad just kept going at her in a frenzy of untamed lust. He simply ignored the fact that she looked exhausted, impaired, dazed; or maybe he especially enjoyed fucking her like that. This animal, grunting and violating my mom’s poor body, wasn’t like my dad of old at all anymore, that was for sure.

He finally shot his load into her in a handful of finishing deep thrusts, accompanied by growls which were either from joy or displeasure, it was hard to tell. Then he pulled out of her, and put both hands on her ass to push her away from him. The table’s resistance finally gave in, and it collapsed. My mother’s body fell to the floor. Dad looked down uninterested as she wailed and wept, trying to get up from the floor, but obviously lacking the strength to do so right away. He just zipped up, and turned away from her to head to the living room, snarling over his shoulder: “Now get me some food, woman. “

But it is a thursday, it is HIS turn, I thought, but apparently that didn’t matter anymore. I knelt by my mother’s side and helped her up. She had hurt her arm in the fall, and she obviously was still feeble, but she pulled herself together to get to the kitchen and start cooking. Even when it was her turn, my father usually helped her in the kitchen, cutting an onion or cleaning the used utensils, but it was obvious that he had no intention of doing so now; he was sagged out on the couch and absorbed by some stuff on his tablet. I quietly entered the kitchen and helped her. It was obvious that she didn’t want to talk about what just happened, so all we did was cook together. We were only a few minutes into it when dad’s voice already came from the living room: “And hurry! I’m hungry!”

We ignored him, well we tried to, we didn’t respond. But it was clear that he wouldn’t be patient today in getting his dinner, and we realized very well that we shouldn’t fuck it up either. In this new world, we had only seen him when he had no particular reason for wrath, and it was bad enough. Neither of us was particularly interested in finding out what he might be like when he had. So it had to be a good meal, and we had to deliver it fast - or else.