Harassment at Rachel's Place

This chapter originally written by BiBiComte, minor edits by Samus1001

After bidding their goodbyes, Caleb returned to the road on mostly steady wheels. His mom's car was a little screwed in on the front side, but they knew a guy, head of an auto shop, did good work at a decent price. They could pro'lly get this taken care of in a week.

"Damn it," the teen muttered, scrummaging in the dark as he passed under a wide sign with 'Ploy Road' etched big and fat across its surface, "where'd that... darn water bottle go?"

When he rang the doorbell -- HAHA PFFT, yeah right, this was an apartment complex, like he was clambering out and losing himself in that winding jungle just to find a doggone door--

What felt like an hour later....

Were you staring out the window, scanning the dimly lit vicinity that moment, you probably would have seen a silhouetted figure stumbling out of a bushy growth and nearly tripping over an outgrown square of pavement. Then, maybe, someone would have called your name. Then, if this person merited it, you would have left the window, and the world outside, to its devices. And the silhouette would have just as quickly faded from your memory as it had entered it. Because, of course, things come and they go.

"There it is," muttered a thankful Caleb as he felt his leg begin to stiffen up a bit. Damn, he shouldn't have skipped leg day. Stepping up to the door, he ducked his head under the stairwell leading up to the upper level and closed in on the cawing entrance. Not a moment later, one finger pressed down on the doorbell.

After a few moments of awkward bystanding, the door whispered back. Obfuscated footsteps. Pat pat pat. Caleb leaned slightly in, when suddenly, the doorknob clucked. He straightened, absently twisting the watch up along his wrist, the light from inside steadily joining the spray of fluorescent illumination by the porch lamp.

"Well, well." The voice that greeted him was sturdy and undoubtedly female, belonging to a lady with straight brown-ish hair, currently adorned in a casual short sleeved tee and cotton trousers. The inside door pulled open until its span was wide enough to see most of the interior, and the woman at present, as well as her pretty face. "You must be one of Rachel's friends."

Surely.

Surely, you know where this had to be going.

"That's right." Caleb tried not to go dry-throated by the hot lady talking to him, but like his penis, it was just so, so hard, man.

Aherm.

Withdrawing his fist from his mouth, "I take it your Rachel's mom?"

"Ding-ding-ding! That is right," came Rachel's mom's playful echo. After a brief second, the woman unlocked the door and stepped to the side, lifting one arm invitingly. "Come on in, Rachel will be down in a minute."

Caleb nodded his head and entered past her as she offered a prompt smile his way. One quick look around confirmed the place's genial condition -- not too big, which was to be expected, but roomy enough and decked out with a flat screen TV surrounded by couches in the left, the obligatory kitchen and dining room to the right. And nice and warm compared to the encroaching night chills.

This is pretty damn tidy looking, Caleb observed to himself, a hand unconsciously moving to clutch the top of one of their sofas.

"The place isn't normally this picturesque," Rachel's mom sliced through his thoughts as if also reading them, "but we had some visitors earlier, so." She shrugged, another smile as she put away some glass cups scattering the table top. "Had to look somewhat presentable, right?"

Speaking of presentable, her act of doing so also stretched the trousers' fabric over her ass in quite an appealing way, however unintentional on her part. For Caleb, however, there was near no perverse opportunity he wouldn't open his own door to now.

It was funny; he'd eyed her a bit for the duration since meeting her, just out of curiosity. Despite his watch being tuned to the 'warp-everyone-into-suddenly-practically-LOVING-me' module she actually seemed to be acting relatively naturally. Who really knew. Maybe she was immune. Maybe he wasn't paying enough attention. In any case, there was nothing wrong with 'ordinary' courtesy. Caleb guessed he was just getting a bit spoiled.

But of course, what was really the only way to see where things stood, regardless? It was to toss a pebble into the pond and see how it rippled. Duh. And as anybody who could only see him now can attest to, Caleb was not shy of 'science', especially if said science involved mothers, and especially especially when said mothers had, like, a sufficiently round, knead-able butt with two loving cheeks on it that were practically waving at you to do something heretical.

Caleb suddenly realized he didn't know what to call her. "Sorry, what's your last name again?"

"It's Gavitan. Casey Gavitan. Nice to meet you..?"

Catching her meaning, the teen completed, "Caleb. Anders." He fell bottom first onto their couch.

They curtly met eyes and nodded lightheartedly before the woman returned to her arranging of silverware. Caleb watched as she bent her knees a bit to slide some dirty dishes into the dishwasher. "Could I feel your butt, Mrs. Gavitan?" Caleb finally asked out of the blue.

The woman had to raise her voice over the clinking of plate and cup. "What was that, sorry?"

"Your ass," repeated her guest. "Can I touch it? It looks so nice from over here and I want to know if it holds up in, well, holding," he explained.

A blink flew across Casey's eyes as she resumed her busywork.

"You're asking to touch my... my butt?" a laughing Mrs. Gavitan replied, looking over her shoulder substantially this time. "You boys really can do whatever you want with us women's arses, young man. It's not like other parts." She winked, as if to say 'those were off-limits.'

Caleb barely avoided a smirk as he got up and strode to the kitchen. As he made his way in, he spotted something on the countertop. With little fanfare, he picked it up and approached Mrs. Gavitan's behind, still pointed right at him, and pressed the object onto her ass cheeks. This caused her to perk at the sensation.

"What are you--" the woman glanced past her shoulder, then popped a brow. "Are you using my rolling pin on my..!?" Despite her line of questioning, her voice was laced with coyness and she was back to sorting through the dishwasher by the end of her sentence. "You said you wanted to feel my butt, not roll on it like a chunk of cookie dough."

"Right. Sorry." In response, Caleb slapped her ass. Then he grabbed it, digging his fingers hard into her trousers-clad ass flesh with a testy shake.

"Oof!" winced the bent over woman, hands automatically gripping the dishwasher tray. "Well, that's a feel alright," she murmured to herself.

Caleb the butt feeler, meanwhile, was glad to say Rachel's mom's ass was very fine. Deep and strong. Caleb finally conferred to his current molestee, eyes rising upward. "I just had a, uh... creative idea that I wanted to try. And besides, your butt is," he musingly bobbed his shoulders, lips turned in as if genuinely considering the notion, "kind of like cookie dough anyway." The boy cemented one final smack from his -- er, sorry, her -- trusty rolling pin before brashly sticking the pointy end of the cookie making utensil up her buttcrack, wriggling it into where her supposed puckering butthole would be.

Up, up, away we go.

Twist..!

Both cheeks of Mrs. Gavitan's butt clenched like two balloons packed in a fish can, and the poor woman nearly banged her head on the inside of the dishwasher. "Oohoohoo!" She bounced away one leg up as if pulling a Freddie Mercury pose, the crook of her hand trying awkwardly to massage its way into her ass crack in some 'half-assed' attempt at cordoning off the dull sting. She looked down at her behind, then to the rolling pin Caleb was just setting back down on the counter, jaw bemusingly dropped.

Mrs. Gavitan proceeded to scold Caleb even while stifling a bubbling laugh, asking him to 'please quit that.' Although 'that didn't feel too bad.' But 'boy, if you weren't such a nice friend of Rachel's..!'

Caleb took her laughably watered down response to his obligatory perverse duty as a young man of his taste would: by rubbing his heady boner, and thrusting it against his hand right in front of her as she only rolled her eyes and gave him a mirthful smile. Silly boy, oh, silly silly. However, as he persisted, and the growing bulge in his pants became steadily more visible and palpably strained, the woman's eyes seemed fixated, as if attempting to get a clear, close look without actually resorting to throwing herself in front of Caleb's crotch to viably do so.

After a minute or so of playing his silent little game with her, in which he literally felt himself up right before her very eyes, the boy of silliness had smugly vacated the kitchen and decided to leave her to her own devices. He was now sprawled back over the couch, lazily scanning the ceiling, when his phone buzzed, spurtily.

It was a message from Sophie, wishing him good night.

He messaged her back.

"Sweet dreams! Don't masturbate too hard without me."

She texted back, "lol." and that was that, when suddenly, a beige colored flash of skin tugged at the corner of his eye, and the digital embrace of SMS took a backseat to reality.

"Hey."

Stretching his neck, Caleb looked up, and found an upside down Rachel standing in a trimly knee length skirt that was cut to show just enough hint of thigh and a white tucked in button-up blouse looking back at him with a sparkle in her eye. She was a tight bodied thing, with a healthy light complexion that seemed to emanate from every pore. Which he could somewhat tell in the store, no doubt. But here in casual outing attire, and in her own home -- he could see that she was really a bona fide girl-next-door in the flesh.

The young lady placed one hand lithely on a hip and managed to shift a leg, the act of which tossed the hem of her skirt tersely around her thighs in a lovingly enticing manner. "Ready to go, Stretcher of Women?"

It took a split second for Caleb to furrow his nose. He looked down, then back up, and had to hold back a snort. How did she know about that? He did normalize it. But... well... oh whatever, it was hilarious to hear it come out of people's mouths so cavalier.

After meeting his date's gaze, Caleb let his wander down and about her trim body, and nodded, internally noting Rachel's election to stay where she was and not move away despite his blatant leering of her legs and pert chest, her hand still clutching that cocked hip as if inviting him, urging him, to do whatever he was thinking of setting out to do, right here, right now.

Finally, Caleb stood to his feet, nodded one more time, and looked her in the eye, his hand irrepressibly dropping down to give her ass a quick double goosing. His face lingered a few inches away from her casually lip curled, nonplussed, welcoming own, the young, lucky man's hand jostling her skirt covered, bubbly butt with no resistance to speak of from the girl, because of course there wasn't. There was nothing that he couldn't do. Nothing he couldn't make doable. Teen years were the best years, weren't they? Be it panty-handling an Asian MILF and her cute young daughter, or invading the home of a spry babe and her accommodating mother while basically molesting them all in broad 'indoor' light, he was just too... normal to do anything about. Rachel apparently agreed, wiggling her arse deeper into his palm as he looked at her.

"Let's go watch a Spider-Man."