Home from College

The next week, Chad arrived home from college in Florida. His ankle as in a cast from an injury in his school's rivalry game. He was downcast. He retreated to his room. He didn't want to see anyone. Not his dad. Not his girlfriend. Not anyone.

Maggie knocked on his door after a couple of days of him moping.

"Hello dear, I'm Robin's mom," she said amiably. He frowned. He was used to his dad banging used up strippers. To come home and find him banging three women in their 20s was something he was not used to.

"So?" Chad asked.

"So, I thought we might have a spot of tea and get to know each other," Maggie said, holding up a pot. Chad considered it. He was used to getting the attention of older women. And he was used to returning that attention.

"Sure, your funeral," he said, opening the door. It was a typical teenager's room. Messy. Stale pizza. A nice gaming rig. A well-used bed. Chad popped a soda and sat down. They talked for awhile, about school, about football, about Maggie. This old redheaded broad wasn't too bad, he thought. She was 46, pale skinned, big tits and ass. He wouldn't mind nailing her over break.