Your mother and father return from the park

The sound of your mother’s voice draws your attention away from Sharon. Your eyes flick to the living room entryway, and you begin cycling between a multitude of emotions. Happiness. Apprehension. Bitterness. Lust.

Your heart quickens somewhat and you feel an itch almost directly beneath your neck. It’s almost enough to make you want to laugh.

Even though you’ve gotten some measure of control over your mother, it seems the sound of her voice is still enough to set your mind on edge. It’s as if the reminder of her proximity to you is enough to prevent you from being truly comfortable in your own skin. The palms of your hands grow clammy and you quickly wipe them off on your shirt, conscious of the way Sharon’s mood shifts from bemusement to concern as she watches you. It’s hard not to think she’s going to be making a mental note of everything you do from here on out. In fact, you’re certain that’s what she’s doing. After you’re done here and alone with Sharon again, you imagine she’ll bring up some of her observations and try to talk you through them.

You snort.

Even though you just fucked her in the bathroom upstairs and finessed a dinner date out of her, she’s ready to go right back to being your therapist. She’s nothing if not a consummate professional.

Your mother calls out for Tiffany again, and you hear a feminine voice respond faintly. No footsteps are forthcoming down the stairs, so you guess your sister isn’t quite ready to come down yet. Hm. Maybe she’s in the bathroom and sitting on the same toilet you’d fucked Sharon on. You don’t know why, but you find the idea incredibly hot. It’s kind of similar to the feeling you experienced when you ate out Sharon’s pussy on her own son’s bed.

You hear footsteps as your parents make their way further into the house, and once again you’re reminded of how close your mother is.

Mom’s presence had not heralded things like love and affection for a very long time. You don’t remember when she stopped showing affection like a proper mother should. A few years ago, maybe longer? All you know is that your mother had always favored Tiffany. Dad had as well. Even when Tiffany fucked up and dropped out of college with a baby growing in her belly, they’d supported her fully.

Years of jealousy, bitterness, and resentment churn beneath your ribcage. Like rusted gears beneath the frame of a battered, old machine.

What did Tiffany do right that you didn’t? Why was she treated like she was special while you were tossed at the wayside? It doesn’t make sense. It’s not like you’d done anything too awful when you were younger, but you know that you’re a disappointment in the eyes of your parents, your father in particular. Sure, you’d been withdrawn, but you just so happened to like your privacy, and it’s not like Tiffany’s any different.

Your lips twist into a small, bitter smile.

You wonder what Mom and Dad would think if they found out their “perfect” daughter had given you an enthusiastic blowjob before swallowing up your cum? What would they say if you told them that their daughter had cheated on her boyfriend with her little brother? Her own flesh and blood.

Mom would probably slap you and scream at you before kicking you out of the house, even with the meddling you’ve done to her mind. Dad, well, he’d probably resort to more damaging physical means of expressing his displeasure, namely pummeling you into the pavement.

You shake your head. Why are you even thinking about such things? You have power, now. A somewhat limited power in that you can only exercise it over mothers, and even then only at certain intervals during the day, but it’s still power. And it’s greater than anything anyone in this world has ever wielded before. With it, you can finally build the life you want for yourself. You can get into any college, obtain a job at pretty much any company as long as women who are mothers happen to reside in positions of power in those institutions. You have your whole life ahead of you and you refuse to let the bitterness of the past sour that for you.

“John, are you okay?” Sharon Thompson's sweet voice draws your attention to her. The dark-haired MILF is giving you a concerned look. She’s leaning towards you slightly, giving you an eyeful of the top of her pale breasts.

You **** yourself to smile.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just thinking about… what I’m going to eat for dinner. Nothing to be concerned about. Let’s go say hi to my parents before they wander in and start wondering why we didn't greet them when they got home.”

Sharon quirks an eyebrow. Hm. She doesn’t believe you, but she nods her assent, getting up from the couch. She holds a slender hand out for you to take. Her blue eyes stare down at you lovingly.

Warmth blossoms in your chest. You feel your affection for Sharon grow as you take her hand in yours and let her help you onto your feet. Your chest nudges against hers, and you delight in the feeling of her big, soft breasts squishing against you. Your faces are inches apart, and her eyes are staring into yours, glimmering with an emotion you’re probably too stunted empathetically to grasp, but you know you want to. Her lips are plush and inviting. You desperately want to kiss her right now.

The sound of footsteps from outside the living room brings you both back into the moment. You distance yourself from each other almost reflexively. You think you catch a flicker of disappointment on her face, and you give her hand a gentle squeeze.

“Come on,” you put as much enthusiasm into your voice as you can to stop Sharon from worrying about you right at this moment. “When we got here you said you wanted to say hi to my mom again. Now’s your chance.”

You turn and leave the room before she can respond. You hear her sigh softly before the sound of feet thudding into the carpet tells you that she’s started to follow you.

You arrive in the kitchen just in time to see your mother and father walk into the room, settling behind the counter and chattering animatedly. Well, at least your mom is. Dad seems wearier, like hearing your mother talk is something he has to endure. He’s wearing a dark navy jacket unzipped down the middle and a pair of beige pants.

Your mother is dressed somewhat conservatively, sporting a brown long-sleeved sweater with a high neckline and a pair of denim pants. “Somewhat,” because while her outfit doesn’t show much skin, it hugs her curves very closely, teasing her insanely voluptuous, matronly body. Her sweater in particular is rather tight on her bust, making her tits look even larger than they were. Her light brown, near-auburn hair cascades luminously down to her shoulders. Her pants cling to her legs, emphasizing the shape of her wide, childbearing hips and thick thighs. Not for the first time, you find yourself intimately aware of the fact that your mother is an incredibly sexy woman. She appears at least a decade younger than she is, with only the slightest wrinkles on the sides of her eyes betraying her age.

Your father utters the first words since you’ve entered the room, but like Mom, he doesn’t appear to have noticed you yet.

“She’s probably just exhausted, Linda. You and I both know having a kid is a lot of work and responsibility. Maybe we should have stayed out longer and let her have some more time up in that room of hers. Besides, now that I think about it, I distinctly remember another woman I know needing some time to herself after having two kids not too long ago,” your father says gruffly, walking over to the tall, stainless steel refrigerator that dominates its own corner of the kitchen. It’s framed by light brown wooden furnishing that matches the theme of the cabinets above and below the marble countertops.

Your mother crosses her arms beneath her huge breasts. It’s testament to the strength of whatever fabric she’s wearing that her sweater doesn’t get torn apart from the sheer tension of containing those fantastic knockers along with the bra she’s wearing. She arches an auburn eyebrow at your father in warning.

“And what’s that supposed to mean?” she says, more than a hint of warning in her voice.

You wince inwardly. You’d heard that tone in her voice before. Usually it was directed at you, so it’s a rather novel experience to not be on the receiving end of it.

Color drains from your father’s face.

“Ah, forget it,” he shakes his head. “I’m just saying that Tiffany’s been through a lot lately. If she wants us to watch Ronnie so she can spend a few hours by herself, I don’t see why we shouldn’t let her. That’s all. Why are you so worked up about this? You let John go and stay with Sharon and her kid with no fuss,” he says.

Your mother shrugs.

“That’s different. John doesn’t have any children. If he did, then you’d better believe I’d be hounding him not to rely on us to watch them whenever he wants a day off.”

Your father snorts.

“Oh? What happened to letting him make his own decisions? You were making such a big deal out of that yesterday and this morning,” he raises his eyebrows challengingly.

Interesting. So it seems the two of them were talking about you after you’d gone to Sharon’s house, and your mother had apparently defended herself for allowing you to go.

Your mother frowns. She puts a hand under her chin, adopting a thinking pose.

“Well, I’d still babysit his kids if that’s what he wanted. I’m not totally heartless. But that doesn’t mean I’d let him off the hook, either,” she replies hesitantly. It’s an uncharacteristically weak showing from her and you know your influence is probably to blame. Your manhood throbs in your pants.

Dad shakes his head. He opens the door of the fridge, pauses for a moment to glance at your mother. Your mother levels a sharp glare at him. Your father sighs and shifts his hand somewhat before retrieving what looks like a can of diet coke. Had Dad been going for a beer right in front of Mom? He must really be annoyed with her if he’s willing to risk her ire like that. He closes the fridge and looks at your mother again.

“You know what? I think you’d let him off the hook with no questions asked. Ever since yesterday, it seems like he’s your golden boy who can do no wrong. Have you forgotten that he still hasn’t applied to college or gotten a job? He’s turning into a lazy, spoiled, unmotivated loser and you’re enabling him!”

You bite your lip. Your father’s words cut deep. The worst part is that he’s right. You’ve been incredibly unmotivated ever since you graduated high school. The idea of going to college or getting a job had seemed like a massive commitment and you hadn’t known what to do, and so you’d settled into an easy pattern of shirking responsibility for yourself. Well, Dad won’t have to worry about you doing that any longer under his roof. If he’s adamant about having you move out, Sharon will take you in. Marissa would too, most likely, but you doubt her husband and sons would be big fans of having you live there. You’re not sure if you’ll move out of your parents’ house in the near future, but it’s nice to know you have options all the same if you decide to go that route. You feel as if a load has been lifted from your shoulders.

“H-how dare you say that sort of thing about him, especially after Tiffany told us Sharon brought him back here. He could have heard you!” Mom hisses. She glares at him, blue eyes narrowing into icy slits. Her nails bite into her palms. “He's a smart young man who has the capacity to make good decisions, he just needs to find what motivates him and stick to it. He doesn’t need to hear his father demean him like that.”

“Well, you got that right,” the words leave your mouth before you can stop yourself.

Your parents whip their heads over to look at you. Their expressions are very different from one another. Your father looks almost embarrassed, lowering his eyes when you glare at him. He cracks open his can of soda and takes a shallow gulp of it before looking up again. His green-gray eyes stare at you guiltily.

“John, I-”

“You what? You’re sorry you called me a loser? Don’t sweat it, Dad, I already knew you felt that way. I can see it in the way you look at me everyday. You and I have never seen eye-to-eye and I don’t think that’s ever gonna change,” you interrupt him. You ignore the dumbfounded look on his face at your casual dismissal. Does he expect you to get angry? To yell at him? A few days ago, you might have. His words hurt like hell even though you had felt his disappointment for years. But for the first time in a while you think you’ve got enough good things going on in your life to offset the bad, and you feel it assuage your anger and hurt.

“So don’t worry, Dad. It’s okay. I forgive you,” you say, putting as much sincerity into your voice as you can. You turn your attention to your mother. The woman who gave birth to you is staring at you with wide, teary eyes.

“John,” your name comes out almost as a choked whisper from her throat. She stares at you for a long moment, a sad, conflicted expression on her face, no doubt wondering what’s going on in your head. Or maybe she’s still thinking about the kiss you gave her yesterday? You thought about it, too. Her lips felt so soft and warm against yours. It’s hard to believe you’d kissed your own mother like that and gotten away with it, even if you’ve already done more **** things with her. Maybe it’s the implied intimacy, of you being more to her than just her son or a guy she lets touch her breasts whenever he wants.

You slowly walk up to her, slowly approaching her behind the counter. She eyes you warily, but doesn’t back up.

“Honey, I’m… I’m so sorry you had to hear that,” she says quietly.

You shake your head.

“It’s not your fault, Mom. And I’m fine, so don’t worry about me.”

She doesn’t flinch when you open your arms to envelop her in a tight hug. She sighs and wraps her arms around your back, nuzzling her face into the crook of your neck. Her huge breasts are mashed comfortably against your chest.

“I missed you, Mommy,” you intone quietly, lowering her hands to her waist to grasp her love handles. She moans softly.

Your mother smiles against your neck.

“I missed you, too, sweetie. Mmm, you’re so warm,” she separates herself from you slightly to look into your eyes, but keeps her hands on the sides of your chest. You smile. It’s still surreal seeing her like this, actually enjoying being around you and showing you genuine affection. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

You nod.

“I am. I promise. Thanks, Mom.”

“Anytime,” she smiles warmly before leveling one final glare at your father. She looks at you again. “So. Sharon drove you here? Was that her convertible in the driveway?”

“Yep,” you say. “It’s an amazing car and Sharon was so cool about it. She even let me take it for a spin around town!”

Your mother raises her eyebrows. You hear your father shift slightly. Now that you think about it, where is Sharon? You thought she was following you from the living room. Did she hang back when you entered the kitchen?

“Oh really? Well, that’s nice and… incredibly trusting of her. It’s a pretty expensive-looking car,” your mother says. “I assume you were completely respectful and drove safely under the speed limit the entire time?”

Before you can reply, a confident feminine voice speaks up from the other side of the kitchen.

“Oh relax, Linda. John was a complete gentleman and an amazingly safe driver. He put my boy Jared to shame.” That’s Sharon’s voice. You glance back just in time to see her step through the doorway from the living room. She’s swearing a too-pleased smile as she glances between you and your mother. She spares your father a quick glance, anger flashing briefly in her eyes before she composes herself. That sneaky minx. She definitely hung back to spy on you and your parents! You’ll be sure to punish her for that later with a spanking or something. “Nice to see you again, by the way. Our little get together yesterday was way too short.”

Your mother lets out a “hmph.” You can tell she wants to probe Sharon to find out how much of our exchange she heard, but she seems content to leave that unsaid.

“Definitely. You and Doug should come over for dinner sometime soon, and bring Jared if you can. It’ll be just like old times.”

Sharon’s smile dims slightly. She shifts slightly, causing her large breasts to jiggle in that revealing blouse of hers.

“I’d like that, but Doug and I are divorced now. I don’t think I told you yesterday. So I don’t think he’s going to be showing up for any get-togethers. Jared’s also busy with college, so whether or not he shows up for any event is a tossup.”

Your mother gives Sharon a sympathetic look.

“Oh, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to bring up bad memories,” she says.

Sharon shakes her head.

“It’s okay, you didn’t know. But if you’ll still have me over sometime, I won’t say no to a free dinner,” she smirks.

Mom and Dad chuckle.

“We’d be happy to have you over,” Dad says. He gives Sharon a quick once-over, as men are wont to do when they encounter a beautiful, well-endowed woman. It still irks you that he’s essentially checking out your girlfriend right in front of you. “It’s good to see you again, Sharon.”

“It’s nice to see you too, Tom,” Sharon says curtly before turning to address your mother again. “So where’s Ronnie? When John told me you and Tom were out in the park with him, I assumed I’d hear him when you got home. Is he a quiet baby?”

Mom grins proudly, looking very much like a grandmother enthusiastic about showing off her grandson.

“He is. Ronnie almost never cries. He was starting to fall asleep by the time we got home so I put him in his crib. Do you want to see him?”

Sharon shakes her head.

“Of course I do, but I wouldn’t want to risk waking him up after you got him to sleep. Maybe some other time when he’s awake,” she says softly.

Mom nods, giving her a small smile. After that the conversation dies off. A few moments pass where no one seems to know what to say. Dad takes another swig of his soda, gulping loudly.

“You want one?” he holds the coke can up and looks at Sharon.

Sharon shakes her head. “No, thank you.”

Dad shrugs and takes another sip.

You look at your mother, remembering all the things you’ve done with her over the past couple days.

You remember that you installed a post-hypnotic trigger in mind that made it so she’ll do whatever you want so long as you preface the command with “Please, Mommy.” But do you really want to risk doing anything with her while Sharon and your father are in the room with you? What would you even do with her? In the past hour or so, you’d gotten a handjob and blowjob from Tiffany and a bathroom fuck from Sharon, and that was after Marissa had taken your virginity in the movie theater. Your dick hardens as you remember placing it between your mother’s tits and getting a titjob from her. It throbs enthusiastically when you recall the sight of your thick cum smeared across her breasts. She’d gone the entire day with your cum staining her skin, because you’d asked her. You’d commanded her to do it and she’d obeyed. You desperately want to experience something like that again, if you only have enough time to get a look and cop a feel of her magnificent breasts. The fact that you have the power to do it is what ultimately sways your hand.

You lick your lips.

“Hey, Mom.”

“Mm. Yes, honey?” she says.

“Can I talk to you about something? In private?” you say.

Your mother answers without hesitation, “Of course. You can talk to me about anything. We’ll go someplace private in a minute.”

She turns to face Sharon.

“Did you want to stick around? There’s leftovers and cold cuts in the fridge if you haven’t eaten lunch yet.”

Sharon looks at you for a moment before smiling and shaking her head.

“No, I think I’d better let you and John have your talk. I have to be home soon anyway since my cleaning lady usually finishes around this time,” she says, eyeing the analog clock that sits on the wall above the kitchen table. It’s almost a quarter after three.

You give Sharon a surprised look. You’d almost forgotten about Veronica and Michelle, the two voluptuous cleaning ladies you’d met this morning. Veronica had fallen into a trance while you’d been there and you’d made her incredibly thirsty for your company. Damn, talk about a missed opportunity. Whatever. You’ll just have to wait until the next time Sharon has them over.

“Okay. Well, drive carefully. And let me know when you’re free and we’ll have you over for a nice dinner.”

Sharon grins.

“Oh, I will. Hey John, Jared’ll probably be home again tonight if you want to stop by later,” she says, a hint of longing in her tone. You smile at her lie. It seems like she’s actually looking forward to your date tonight. So are you.

“I’ll definitely do that. I’ll probably be over by six,” you give her sly smile. She returns it with one of her own. “Do you think you could stay a few extra minutes, though? What I want to talk to my Mom about concerns you, too.”

Your mother and Sharon share a look. Sharon shrugs. She leans forward slightly, exposing her expansive pale cleavage.

“I guess I could stay for a few more minutes. I admit I’m kind of curious what you have to talk to your mom about in private that also happens to have something to do with me.”

“Me too,” your mother says. She gives you a strange look, like she’s not quite sure what to make of what you’ve said. “But whatever John’s reasons, I’m sure they’re sound.”

Dad snorts.

Mom glares at him again, putting her hands on her hips, daring him to speak up. Sharon raises her eyebrows and gives your father a meaningful look, as if to say, “Oh? Are you still here?”

He sighs and shakes his head. He gives you and the two MILFs a baffled look. For a moment he almost looks like a kid in high school who’s strayed unwelcome into someone else’s conversation and just realized he wasn’t wanted there.

“I’m gonna go check on Ronnie,” he takes another sip of his soda before walking out of the room.

Mom turns to face you, pretty blue eyes sparkling with curiosity.

“So, what did you want to talk to us about?” Mom asks.

You make a show of looking around the kitchen.

“Not here. Let’s go someplace Dad and Tiffany won’t be able to overhear us.”

Mom raises her eyebrows. It’s testament to the power you hold over her reasoning faculties that she doesn’t even bat an eyelash at excluding Dad and Tiffany from your conversation.

“The basement?” she asks.

“Yeah, that’ll work,” you reply.

Mom glances between the two of you before nodding.

“Okay, follow me,” she says, walking to the other side of the kitchen from the living room entrance. Your eyes fall to her juicy bubble butt as it sways and jiggles in those tight jeans of hers. She walks towards the mud room entrance from the garage. Right before the entryway is a wooden door on the right-facing wall. She opens the door, and with one final glance at the two of you, she descends down the stairwell.

A pair of soft breasts is soon pressed against your back. Sharon leans her head over your shoulder and whispers in your ear.

“What are you planning, John?” she asks.

You smirk.

“You’ll see. Actually, before we go down there, we’ll need to do one thing real quick,” you turn to face her. You look your therapist/girlfriend up and down. She flushes slightly.

“Was that it? You wanted to check me out?” she asks.

“No. Well, yes, but that’s not what I meant. There’s a little something you need to realize before we go down there, Sharon. Let me help you with that.”

The dark-haired MILF’s face slackens. Her eyes glaze over. You love it when she looks like this almost as much as you love that you have the power to shut down her conscious mind, if only for a few moments. You love that, at any moment you desire, Sharon’s intelligent, perceptive mind could be switched off, rendered powerless before your influence.

You reach up and give her breasts a honk each before helping her make her next choice. Her wide-open mind accepts your words greedily, like a dry sponge absorbing water.

You love your new life.

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