Free Use Practice in the Kitchen [no images]

Wilma is standing at the kitchen sink, doing the dishes, like a good little housewife. She is wearing a dainty but figure-hugging floral orange dress, and humming to herself.

Stacy is chilling on a nearby barstool, doing what any normal teen in her situation would - not helping with the chores, and messaging her friends on her phone.

Except, of course, Stacy isn’t really a teenager, and the people on the phone aren’t her real friends. But still, it’s an interesting experiment to test the limits and capabilities of this allegedly simulated universe.

Is this guy she’s texting, allegedly called Todd, actually fully simulated? Is he out there somewhere, tapping on his phone? Or is there just some sort of chatbot doing its best to pretend to be a friend called Todd?

And if it’s all virtual, is there any meaningful difference? Perhaps not.

In any case, it’s something to focus on, other than the annoying cheerful humming of her evil rival.

The first thing Stacy did was to scroll back through the text message history. It exists, and there’s a whole fuckton of it. Much too much to read it all now, but it allows her to draw some quick understanding of the context of her established relationship with this young man.

It seems clear that they went to school together, and that while Stacy has never shown any interest in Todd, that hasn’t stopped him from repeatedly joking-not-joking expressing his interest in her.

Well then. Let’s see what fun we can have in a universe where nothing matters.

’You know how you’ve always wanted to fuck me? Well, what if I wanted that too?’ She sends, failing to suppress a smile, imagining what it would be like for a 19 year old guy to receive that sort of message from a girl he’s been pining after.

At that moment, Patrick enters the room, dressed in his smart shirt and tie. He greets his wife and daughter normally, but everybody knows the ‘fully ignored free use’ scene has begun.

As everybody exchanges muted greetings, Patrick crosses the floor to Wilma, and stands behind her. He nonchalantly pulls up her dress, exposing her matching small sheer orange briefs, and she completely ignores him, continuing to rinse a plate.

“Honey, the gardener has sent us an email, he says he’s not coming today as you still haven’t paid him for last time?” Patrick asks casually as he caresses Wilma’s exposed buttocks.

“That’s nonsense. I paid him with cash on the day.” Wilma replies calmly, apparently finding it easy to improvise the conversation, despite not having been this version of Wilma for even a full hour.

“Did you get a signed receipt?” Patrick asks, slipping two fingers into Wilma’s mouth.

“No, why would I? He’s always been such an honest guy!” Wilma replies, but wonkily, because she’s got two fingers in her mouth that she’s pretending aren’t there.

“Well honey, if there’s no proof of payment, then it’s just your word against his, isn’t it?” Patrick points out gently, as he not-so-gently takes the two fingers from Wilma’s mouth and starts to ease them into her backdoor.

Wilma handles the anal invasion like a champion, her voice barely even wavering as he pushes his way up her rear passage.

“And is my word not just as credible as his?!” Wilma asks, feigning outrage.

“Of course, but not, like, in a court of law.” Patrick replies, as gently as he can. But meanwhile his two fingers bury themselves deeper and deeper inside his wife’s most delicate of holes.

“This is bullshit!” Wilma growls, but she’s talking about the gardener, not the anal fingering. She completely ignores the anal fingering, even when Patrick starts thrusting his fingers in and out, with reasonable speed. “I am not going to let him get away with this! I have a mind to phone him right now and give him a piece of my mind!”

Patrick removes his fingers from Wilma’s brown star, and snakes them back up towards her mouth. Stacy can’t believe what she’s witnessing. But Patrick had of course boasted to Andrew about how they were both ‘fully ass-to-mouth trained’.

“Maybe you should.” Patrick says simply, as he slips those same two fingers back between Wilma’s lips, forcing her to sample the flavours of her own asshole.

“Maybe I should.” Wilma agrees wonkily, again pretending that the fingers in her mouth simply aren’t there.

Patrick allows himself a few moments to properly clean his fingers inside his wife’s mouth, and then quickly pulls them away. He uses the same hand to retrieve his phone from his pocket and begins to swipe and tap.

If it had been Stacy in Wilma’s situation, she would be desperately spitting into the sink, before swilling her mouth out with soapy water. But Wilma just continues the conversation, ignoring the bitter taste in her mouth, as if it’s nothing.

“What are you doing?” Wilma asks, sounding a bit cross.

“I’m finding his number for you.” Patrick replies.

Stacy’s attention is drawn back to her phone, where Todd is finally replying.

’I’d think I must be dreaming!’ Is his initial reply. And then, a few seconds later, _’…Am I dreaming?’

Despite the fact that it’s all not even real, that makes Stacy smile. She can’t help it - it still feels real.

Stacy, still smiling, eagerly drafts a reply. ’I don’t know, you’d better check. Perhaps jerk that big hard cock for me, and see if you can feel anything.’

She can’t help herself. She’s been given this opportunity to be shamelessly erotic with a stranger at a safe distance, where he can’t actually touch her. And nothing actually matters. So why not exercise her sexting muscles?

“There. I’ve opened his contact, if you do want to give him a call.” Patrick says calmly, placing his phone down on the counter near Wilma.

“Is that supposed to be some sort of challenge? You don’t think I will? Is that it?” Wilma continues to play the part of an annoyed housewife perfectly, despite her dress still being hiked up above her waist. Good for her.

…It’s only when Stacy feels two hands on her chest, groping her breasts before quickly pulling up her pink crop top to expose them, that she realizes that she’s up. Her smile threatens to crack a little bit, so she does her best to consciously **** it to stay in place.

“I’m going to do it, then. I’m going to phone him.” Wilma announces.

“Okay then.” Patrick replies, as neutrally as possible. Meanwhile, he’s now pinching Stacy’s exposed nipples. Stacy does her best to focus on the message chat with Todd, and not on the unlikeable man molesting her from behind.

’Do you want to see it?’ Todd has asked her.

…Does she want to see it? Not really. And especially not with her dad looking over her shoulder. He’d almost certainly see it, even if he’s not trying to spy on her messages.

‘Maybe later.’ She replies.

“You don’t think it’s a good idea to ring him.” Wilma accuses, as she scrubs at another mug.

“I didn’t say that.” Patrick replies, as his hands move down to unbutton Stacy’s white short shorts.

“I think I should ring him.” Wilma says stubbornly.

“Then ring him.” Patrick sighs, as his hand slips down past Stacy’s now open zipper, searching for her clit through the thin fabric of her lacy green panties.

’I’m touching myself. Are you touching yourself too?’ Todd messages Stacy.

Stacy’s ‘dad’ finds her love button, and starts to press and rub it with two strong fingers.

’There’s two fingers on my clit ;-)’ Stacy sends back to her new long distance lover.