Angela is very accommodating

Angela’s standing right in front of the couch. Her eyes radiate unmistakable warmth as she peers down at you. You deliberately avert your gaze from the gentle swell of her breasts; they’re almost impossible to ignore from this angle. You succeed, if barely.

After Angela had led you into her house, you’d quickly found her living room and claimed your favorite spot on the couch where one cushion just so happened to be a touch softer than all the others.

You’d spent a lot of time here, with Angela and sometimes her daughters. Christina and Ashley tolerated you. Born one year apart, Ashley was your age and had been in your class in high school. Christina’s the older sister; she’d graduated a year ago.

Given you’d spent a decent amount of time at their house, it was inevitable that they’d catch you giving them once-overs every now and again. Surprisingly, they were cool with it. They’d only get mad if you leered at them too long or happened to walk in on one of them while they were changing, and even you could admit you deserved to be yelled at in those circumstances. Both girls had inherited their mother’s good looks, and while Angela had been the reason you’d decided to spend your time here, getting to interact with her daughters was an amazing plus. You almost regret the fact that both of them have been smart so far and haven’t let themselves get pregnant while they were away at school. You’d really enjoy completing the mother-daughter (times two!) set, but it’s not really a huge deal. There are plenty of hot mothers in the world ready to be influenced by you, and you can always check in on the girls within a decade or so when they’ve hopefully settled down and had kids.

Your phone vibrates noisily in your pocket, and you immediately wonder if it’s your Mom about to ask you where you’ve gone. You dismiss the thought almost as soon as it comes to you, but you can’t ignore the jolt of excitement that courses through you at the prospect. How long had it been since Mom had actually been worried about you? Worried enough to call and ask where you were? Your cock hardens. What if it’s not the maternal side of her that’s motivating her, but the part you’d implanted into her mind?

You can almost feel the ghostly sensation of her soft, warm lips on yours. You nearly groan.

The device buzzes again, noisily demanding your attention. When did phones turn from items of convenience into something that interrupted your life?

Angela stares at you meaningfully as if to say: Are you gonna get that?

You swallow. God, why are you so nervous right now?

Reaching a hand into your pocket, you fumble for your phone. Another buzz. Just as you’re about to accept the call, it stops vibrating. You’re too late. When you actually glance at the name of the contact who’d called you. Your eyes widen somewhat when you see Sharon Thompson’s name on your screen.

Sharon called you? She must have wanted to iron out specifics on your date tonight.

“Everything alright?” Angela’s beautiful voice draws your gaze once more to the alluring blonde.

“Y-yeah, everything’s fine.” You inwardly curse your goddamn stammer and your goddamn nervousness. When you’d first arrived in this new world, you’d been so excited, entranced by the power you held. You attempt to calm yourself, refusing to let your nervousness get the better of you.

You start wondering what you should do next. You can call Sharon back, find out what she wants. It looks like she hasn’t left a voicemail. It’s probably not the best idea to do it while Angela’s around, though. You don’t want to risk her overhearing you.

Angela nods tentatively, deciding not to press the issue. She gives you a small smile, and your conversation seems to reset.

“So, have you had anything for lunch?”

You already know where this is going. Angela Hughes has always prided herself on being an accommodating host. Whenever you’d come over, she’d always made sure you were fed.

“Oh, you don’t need make me anyth-”

A low gurgle from your treasonous stomach interrupts you, and you realize with a start that you’re hungry; ravenously so. Normally eating breakfast (especially one as large and filling as the one Sharon had prepared for you this morning) could hold you over until dinner, but today’s a special case apparently. It’s probably all the sex you’ve been having. You idly wonder just how many calories you’d burned compared to when you’d lived as a solitary sexless hermit.

Angela grins in triumph. She crosses her arms beneath her breasts, squishing them upward and substantially increasing the amount of her visible cleavage. You gulp reflexively. It seems even though you've seen your fair share of nude breasts over the past few days, you’re still a teenage guy who’s easily teased by even a hint of cleavage. Her hazel eyes stare at you, radiating amusement.

“Okay, I haven’t had lunch, but that doesn’t mean you have to go make something for me.”

She rolls her eyes at you like she thinks you’re being an idiot.

“True, but I want to. So, is there anything you feel like you’re in the mood for, foodwise?” her eyes brook no argument or challenge. You’re going to tell her to get you something and you’re going to like it, damn it.

You suppress a sigh. She’s always been like this. Maybe it’s that Southern hospitality showing through, but Angela seems physically incapable of having guests over without providing them with food or drink or something else they want that’s in her power to provide. She could cook just about anything, but where she really excelled was on the barbeque. God, just thinking about the times she’d cooked up some ribs was enough to make you salivate.

She keeps staring at you.

“Do you want some popcorn?” She raises her eyebrows. “If you want, I’ll go make some. I know you like it. I’ll even put extra butter on it.”

Popcorn sounds nice. You hadn’t actually gotten to that much when you’d been at the movie theater earlier.

Angela opens her mouth to continue, but you interrupt her.

“Actually, while popcorn sounds good, I haven’t eaten any lunch. Do you think I could have a sandwich or something?” You surprise yourself by voicing your request in a completely even tone. Previously, Angela’s hospitality had always gotten you flustered to the point that you’d simply accept whatever she offered you instead of making requests. Your chest tightens with worry. You hope you haven’t offended her.

Your host shakes her head nonchalantly.

“Sure, no problem!” her voice is brimming with enthusiasm. She shifts her stance slightly and uncrosses her arms. Her breasts jiggle distractingly. “So, what kind of sandwich do you want? I’ve got plenty of cold cuts in the fridge. Turkey, salami, and roast beef, I think, as well as God knows how many different cheeses. What are you in the mood for? Chances are I’ve got it stashed away somewhere.”

You blink at her. To say that you’re surprised by how far she’s willing to go for you would be an understatement. Even after all the times you’d visited her and partaken in her hospitality, you just weren’t used to people being genuinely nice to you, just for the sake of being nice.

“You really don’t mind?”

She shakes her head, and you catch a glimpse of something in her gaze. Worry? Exasperation? A little (or a lot of) both?

“John, if I minded I wouldn’t’ve offered. Now tell me what you want. Turkey, salami, or roast beef. If you change your mind, I’ve got other things in the fridge, too,” she narrows her eyes. “But I’m gonna make something for you and that’s final.”

Fine. If she insists.

“I’ll take a salami sandwich, then. With cheddar cheese and mayonnaise.”

She gives you a dazzling smile that causes your heart to skip a beat. Jeez, she has no right looking that good at more than twice your age.

“Oh. Good choice. You want any chips with it?” she asks kindly. Why does she look so satisfied doing things for you? You don’t understand it at all.

“You know it,” you say.

She beams at you.

“All right then, I’ll be right back!” she nods, juicy bubble butt jiggling as she leaves you by yourself.

You push the recall button and put your phone up to your ear. It rings for less than a second before you hear Sharon’s lovely voice again.

“John,” she greets you.

“Hi Sharon,” you say softly, taking care to make sure Angela doesn’t overhear you from the kitchen. “Sorry I missed your call. What’s up?”

“No big deal. So, you know when I said I was heading back home, it was because the cleaning people were usually done around this time?”

You furrow your brow in confusion even as your dick twitches at the memory of Veronica the widow and her daughter the malcontent; two ripe, busty Latina mothers. You’d already reprogrammed Veronica, but hadn’t had the chance to actually do anything with her; something you’re already regretting despite the lack of urgency.

“Yeah. Did something happen?”

Sharon pauses for a moment.

“Nothing major, but apparently my house was a little messier than I anticipated, so they’re still here. Veronica – you met her earlier – she’s really taken a liking to you. I don’t know what you two were talking about while I was gone, but she asked if I could call you and see if it was okay if I gave her your number. She said she’d offer you and your family a discount for her services if you hire her,” she sounds uncertain, perhaps a little uncomfortable, and it’s easy to see why. Veronica isn’t the only person you’ve met today who’s taken a seemingly instant liking to you. You curse inwardly for forgetting to make Veronica remember your contact information and for not getting hers. Thankfully, you’re less worried about Sharon connecting the dots than just about anyone else you know for one simple reason.

“Let me help you with that, Sharon,” you hear a soft sigh on the other end of the phone call. Your manhood stiffens as Sharon falls under your spell. “Don’t worry about it. Veronica just wants to expand her clientele. What enterprising businesswoman wouldn’t? You’ve decided you can give her my phone number and that there’s absolutely nothing unusual about it.”

You hear nothing but silence for the next few seconds. You allow her the time she needs to come out of her stupor.

“Hm. I guess you’re right. There’s nothing really weird about a businesswoman looking to gain more clients. I’ll go give her your cell phone number.”

“Thanks. Can you give me hers as well so I know it’s her when or if she calls me?”

“Sure, give me a sec. And… done,” Sharon replies obediently.

Your phone vibrates as it receives a text message, no doubt containing Veronica’s contact information.

“Did you get it?” she asks.

“Yep. Thanks for sending that over, Sharon. You’re the best, most amazing girlfriend ever.”

She chuckles.

“Flatterer,” her voice gets quiet. “Are you all set for later?”

You nod instinctively.

“You bet. I’m really excited to see what you decide to wear.”

“I’ll bet you are,” there’s a teasing edge to her tone. “I’ll see you around six?”

“See you at six,” you confirm.

The two of you say your goodbyes, though neither of you seems eager to get off the phone with the other.

You’re alone in Angela’s television room again.

You stare at the blank screen, wondering idly if you should turn the TV on and get the movie ready, but decide against it. Angela hadn’t even told you the movie she wanted to watch.

A minute passes, and you hear nothing from the kitchen that would signify Angela making lunch.

Bored, you get up from the couch and leave the TV room. The soft carpet squishes comfortably beneath your feet. An unconventional floor plan, the television room was connected via doorway to the Hughes dining room instead of the kitchen. Another doorway in the corner of the dining room closest to the entry to the TV room leads to the kitchen.

As you walk into the kitchen, you’re struck by the sight of Angela facing her refrigerator. The fridge is open, and her hands are at her sides. A marble counter island in the middle of the kitchen obscures her lower body from view.

“Angela?”

No response. She doesn’t turn to look at you, which can only really mean one thing.

Your heart thuds with anticipation as you hurry up next to her.

The blonde MILF’s hazel eyes are glassy and unfocused. You wave your hand in front of them. No reaction. You lower it to grasp her breast through her shirt and smile when her only response is a muted moan.

It’s time to get to work.

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