Meeting with Stacy’s family

You stood at the threshold of the Chapman home, doing your best to remain composed but constantly reminded of the previous time you had been there. The cult, your teacher, the memories came quick and violently within your mind and despite yourself sweat began to form at the back of your neck.

Taking one final breath, you drew yourself up and knocked on the door. Things were silent and still for what felt like an eternity before your ears picked up on the thump of footsteps approaching from within. There was a click as the doorknob turned and opened.

The woman who greeted you was a vision. With her heavy tits, wide childbearing hips and ass that was barely contained by her pants, Mrs Chapman was an embodiment of milfdom at its finest.

She beamed at you with a thousand watt smile. “Oh, are you Michael? Come in! Come in, Stacy’s told me so much about you!”

You smiled easily, a little bit in awe of the beautiful matronly figure. “Thank you, ma’am.”

The inside of the house was expectedly lavish. Pieces of art hung on the walls and the furniture seemed imported from every corner of the world. A rich scent hung in the air, wafting in from what he presumed was the kitchen.

Mrs Chapman went up the stairs and called out to her daughter. “Stacy, Michael’s here!”

There was a five second pause, followed by the heavy sound of footsteps as the younger Chapman came into sight. As with her mother, you found the image of her beauty enough to leave you breathless. Stacy had done herself up, gotten highlights, lightly applied makeup that enhanced the sharpness of her cheeks and the fullness of her lips. She wore a modest-but-beautiful pink dress and gave the impression of both modesty and playfulness. Her smile had to heart pounding and your loins stirring.

“Hi, Mike,” she said, coming down to press a kiss to your cheek.

“…Hi, Stace…” you replied dumbly, lost in her beauty.

Mrs Chapman sighed pleasantly. “Oh, look at the two of you! Cute!” She laughed and swatted you playfully on the arm, “and very good breeding might I add!”

Stacy rolled her eyes. “Tone it down a little, Mom,” she sniffed in the air, “when will dinner be ready?”

“Oh, Renata was just finished,” she smiled at you, “our house maid is really the best. Been with the family for years.”

“Enough with the history lesson,” Stacy complained, taking your hand, “let’s go wait at the dinner table!”

The dinning room was opulent to the point of ridiculousness and the silverware looked like it cost a small fortune. You were reminded of your grandparents during the height of their power and influence and how much they liked to splurge on trivial items for appearances sake.

“Sorry for her,” Stacy said as you sat down. “She’s very big on seeing me put down roots and all that crap. In her mind she’s probably planning the names of our future kids.”

You **** a laugh. “It’s ok, she’s just enthusiastic.”

Stacy grunted, but kept her eyes on you. There was naked appreciation in her gaze, and her foot began to rub against your thigh, her grinning growing wider.

You were about to say something when the doors flew open and a tall man you recognised as Mayor Chapman marched into the room. You were up and on your feet within a moment.

“Good evening Sir,” you said quickly and awkwardly.

He blinked at you, then slowly smiled. The mayor had what your mother would have called “naturally mean eyes”, that were hard and predatory, though some of the edge was lost when he looked to his daughter. He thrust out his hand to shake yours, his grip firm and aggressive. “So you’re the young Mr Maywood I’ve been hearing about!”

“I guess that’s me,” you laughed, again feeling awkward.

“You know, I used to work with your grandfather,” a look of genuine sadness crossed his features. “He was a great man. He taught me many things about life, opened many doors…”

You were about to ask him what he meant when Mrs Chapman called out announcing dinner, and the three of you promptly sat around the table.