Homebound

"Well, why don't you stuff something up there, then?" I prodded.

"Yeah, good idea. Nat, you got something big I could stick up my ass?" The blonde turned to her friend inquisitively.

Throwing on her blinker, Nat rummaged through the central compartment before taking out a long and thick tube of moisturizer cream. "Here. You can stick it up your bum, and get moistured up in the same time!"

Sales pitch over, she handed the bottle to her one-thirds dressed mate, who then shifted in her seat to lean to the side, causing her gobsmacking buttocks to curve in a wonderfully appetizing manner as I watched her then try to open up her butt crack with her spare hand. Then, with a careful test push, she gradually schlicked the tube up into her hole, getting it to gape further and further apart with each passing inch.

Man, was I glad that I changed reality to make sure all girls' asses were clean and ready for penetrative explorations as needbe on the spot. Either way, this was turning out to be one of the raunchiest shows I'd ever seen, live, before me, and I was loving it.

And it was my own friend doing the honors.

Plop!

Just like that, Allison released her thigh muscles, let her ass fall back onto the seat, and had her skirt return to its humble, butt draping function, the bottle... gone. Vanished. Disappeared.

Right up her ass.

"Abracadabra," winked Allison at me, before turning back.

"You're a magician," I joked.

The girls giggled, looking at each other. I guessed I did have my moments. Making my blonde high school acquaintance shove a bottle of moisturizing cream up her asshole was only one of many hidden talents. For the rest of the ride, the magic was relatively minimal, however. We bopped to Grimes (at least, Nat and I), looked out the window, talked about silly pedestrians and bums that looked like old grade school teachers, and tossed around riddles, until we finally reached Allison's neighborhood.

"We're here." Nat pulled the car into park, as the front door to Allison's house opened, and out stepped an older blond lady in attire that screamed casual, don't-care-wear. Even so, her face was immaculate and her anatomy was striking.

Because of course it was. That, after all, gave birth to Allison Jorges. Her semi-short blonde hair went down the sides of her face in a wispy, rich color, accommodated by sharp blue eyes. Eyes that spotted us once she'd reached the bin and thrown her bag of trash down its mouth.

"Nat!" A white-teethed smile broke out, and instantly, I was hard once more. Ashamed as I was to admit it -- Allison's mom always had that effect on me. She was effortlessly hot and charming, with an ass that was just a few percentages off from J. Lo-tier. With good, graspable jugs to boot. "Can't believe you kidnapped my daughter. If only I cared a little more to pay the ransom."

This launched Nat into a fit of laughter. "Oh, it's okay, Mrs. Jorges, me and John are just dropping her off."

As the MILF waltzed up to the car, she set a hand to one irresistible, child-rearing hip. "I know you like my cooking. We got leftoovers." She ducked her head an inch to wave at me through Nat's open window. I gulped. Still, I waved back, of course. Her face was too pretty.

"Mom," Allison committally objected, as she was her daughter. "We ate already, thanks."

"I'm kinda hungry."

At my comment, Allison's mom looked back to her junior self with a raised brow. Her squishy, soft-looking boobs were barely peaking from underneath her white nonchalant tanktop but it was such a tantalizing sight on such a hot mama that I thought I could've died there, in peace, content, honorably, at the sight, and no one in heaven would blame me.

But things were different. After this morning, they were. It was so hard to realize it -- and, I presumed, it would be, contiguously, for a while -- the fact that I didn't need to stop there. Not anymore.

These frivolous fixations of mine; they were no longer bound by such silly restraints like victorious, subtle ogles of women's bodies. Now, I could--

The thud of a car door closing shook me out of my thoughts.

"John," called Nat. She, along with a slightly stiff-legged Allison and the retreating Mrs. Jorges, were outside, on the stone path leading up to the house.

I scrambled for the door handle and climbed out of the car, speedwalking to Nat's side as she playfully chided me for being such a daydreaming cliche.