In the kitchen

You sit at the kitchen table, your heart in your throat, with your leg bouncing nervously. You cover your face with your hands in shame and hear Rebeccah's mother come in. You peek through your fingers to see her standing across the table from you, and you can see Rebeccah standing by the counter, looking concerned.

"You told me you weren't a dirty little masturbator," she says to you, hands on hips. "And you told me you weren't addicted to pornography."

"I'm not..." you start to say, but she shushes you right away.

"Rebeccah, you should see this," says her mother, handing your phone to your fiance. You groan and cover your eyes again. This can't be happening.

"Stop hiding your face," says Rebeccah's mother sternly and you obediently pull them down and put them in your lap.

Rebeccah restarts the video and you can hear the woman talking, asking if you want to see her breasts. Rebeccah's expression is inscrutable. You can't tell if she is mortified or amused. She plays the video far longer than you watched it and the dirty mommy fantasy unfolds even further.

"That's a good boy, suck on mommy's breast. That feels so good, and your penis is sooo hard. Would you like mommy to stroke it for you? Mommy loves touching your hard little penis. Keep sucking, mommy wants you to squirt for her. Can you do that for mommy?" says the woman in the video.

You wish your heart would just stop to end your torment.

Rebeccah watches the whole video, then turns off the screen and sets your phone on the counter. Her face is still unreadable.

"Did that woman look familiar to you, Rebeccah?" asks her mother.

Oh god.

"She looks like you, mommy," says your fiance at once.

"She does look like me," says her mother grimly. "Two spankings in two days is not a good start, young man. I want you to please apologize to your fiance for lusting after her mother, and then I want you to go upstairs to your room and remove your pants and panties and wait for me."

You stand and sheepishly look at Rebeccah.

"I'm sorry, Rebeccah," you say.

"You're sorry for what?" demands her mother.

"I'm sorry I was lusting after your mother," you say, barely above a whisper.

"Good enough, I guess," says her mother. "Off you go."

You skulk from the room and up the stairs