photo archive

Jeremy came back, sat down on the floor right in front of the door so I could see him perfectly. He had my parents’ laptop on his lap, grinning widely and laughing loudly at me. “You weirdos! You don’t even have a password on your computer! A kid could get in there. Your mom really has zero clue about security…” He opened the laptop and started typing and clicking intently. I could only see his focused expression as he scrolled through folders. My heart was racing. *What is he doing? What else is he looking for?* Suddenly, a loud cry of joy from him—triumphant, almost animalistic.

“Found it! I knew it! She hid everything so stupidly that it’s almost cute.”

He turned the laptop so that the screen was right in my line of sight—I could see the folder structure, but not any individual pictures. Just that there were hundreds, no, thousands of files.

Jeremy grinned right at the keyhole and explained in that disgusting, smug voice:

“I found your parents’ entire digital photo folder. Right in the ‘Tax Return’ folder—between bills and scans. And then… bam… a hidden subfolder called ‘private.’ All neatly sorted chronologically, from 2008 to last year. Even scans of lots of old analog photos I couldn’t find physically. Sex photos from vacations in bikinis… and that’s just the beginning. They’ve just piled up over the years—secretly, horny, forbidden. Photos that no one but your father was ever supposed to see. And now they belong to me.”

He slowly scrolled through the folder and began a quick, humiliating run-through—each photo only briefly, but with exactly the details that tore me apart inside.

“2009, vacation in Mallorca… your mommy in a tiny white bikini that can barely contain her plump tits. Next picture—bikini top already off, she’s laughing and thrusting her tits at the camera. Then on the beach—she’s kneeling in the sand, bikini bottoms pulled to the side, your father fucking her from behind while the waves wash over her knees. Her pussy glistens with saltwater and cum.”

He clicked on, faster.

“2011, Greece… hotel room. She’s lying on the balcony, legs spread, bikini hanging off one ankle. Creampie oozing out, she’s holding her belly—just like in the pregnancy photos, only this time without a baby. Next: She’s riding him on the lounge chair, tits bouncing, sunglasses still on her nose.”

My stomach turned. *These are vacations I went on as a kid… and they were doing this the whole time…*

“2013, Thailand… beach hut. She’s wearing only a sarong, which falls right off. Three photos in a row: first she’s sucking his dick with a view of the ocean, then doggy style against the railing, then a creampie photographed from below, cum dripping into the sand. And here—a selfie of her pulling the cum out of her pussy with two fingers and holding it up to the camera.”

Jeremy laughed lewdly and scrolled on.

“2015, Spain… pool. Bikini completely off, she’s lying on her back at the edge of the pool, legs in the water. Your father is fucking her while she holds onto the tiles. Next picture: She’s sitting on the edge of the pool, pussy open, cum running into the water. Then another one—she’s swimming naked, tits bobbing in the water, and in the background you can see him fingering her underwater.”

He didn’t tire of it.

“2017, Italy… Tuscany. Wine tasting at the hotel. She’s wearing a light summer dress—no panties underneath. Photos in the vineyard: dress hiked up, she’s getting fucked from behind, tits hanging out. Then in the room: anal, her asshole glistening, she’s biting the pillow. And the last one from that year: she’s lying there exhausted, cum running out of her pussy and ass, smiling wearily at the camera.”

Jeremy leaned back, his cock rock-hard in his hand again.

“And those are just the vacation highlights, loser. The folder goes all the way back to last year—more and more, hotter and hotter, more and more secretive. Your perfect mommy has been collecting photos for over 20 years of her getting fucked like a real vacation slut. And now I have it all. Chronologically. Forever.”

He turned the laptop away a bit so I could only see the glow of the screen.

“Oh… there’s a gap here. 2018. Nothing there for now. Weird… everything else is nice and chronological, and then… nada.”

I whimpered louder, my voice breaking. “I… I don’t want this anymore… please… stop…”

Jeremy laughed harshly and turned his head directly toward the keyhole. “Shut the hell up, loser. You’re going to tell me right now what happened in 2018. Otherwise, I’ll print out every single photo and put them on your mommy’s kitchen table when she walks in. With a nice little note: ‘Your son knows everything.’”

I swallowed hard, tears streaming down my cheeks. My voice was nothing more than a hoarse whisper. “That… that was the year of their divorce…”

Jeremy whistled softly through his teeth. “Ah… that explains a lot. So the good, chaste mommy suddenly started going completely wild after your dad was gone. Interesting.”

He scrolled further—now came the newer pictures, starting in 2019. The quality was different: no more expensive camera, just cell phone selfies, quick snapshots, much more intimate, much more private. He began his humiliating rapid-fire review again, each photo only briefly, but with exactly the details that were tearing me apart inside.

“2019… first photos after the divorce. Your mommy in a hotel room, selfie in the mirror, wearing only black lace lingerie. Next picture—she’s pulled her tits out, holding them up, and writes underneath: ‘For you, if you’re a good boy.’ Then a short clip: She moans softly into the camera, two fingers deep in her pussy, and whispers: ‘I miss a real cock…’ Name in the chat: Markus. You know him, right? The gym guy she dated for a few months.”

He clicked faster.

“2020… new guy. Selfies from the car—she’s sitting with her legs spread wide in the passenger seat, skirt hiked up, no panties, pussy glistening. Then a video: She’s sucking a cock while looking into the camera and moaning: ‘Do you like how I swallow for you?’ Name: Thomas. The guy from work. She really sent him photos like that? Holy shit.”

Jeremy laughed lewdly.

“2021… changing partners again. Flirty photos for a certain Stefan—her in the bathroom, wet from the shower, tits lathered up, writing: ‘Come over and finally fuck me.’ Then a short clip: She’s riding a dildo on the bed, tits bouncing, moaning loudly: ‘Yes… deeper… I’m so horny for your cock…’ And the name in the chat: exactly the guy she once brought over for dinner. She really shared that. With strangers.”

My stomach clenched. These were all men who’d been at our house… whom I’d seen… and all this time she’d been sending them photos like that?

“From 2022 until last year… even more. Selfies in the locker room, in the office after work, even a few in the car in the parking lot. Always new guys. Always the same horny, **** mommy, showing off her plump tits and her wet pussy for strangers’ cocks. Short clips where she moans and begs: ‘Fuck me… make me your slut…’ Names I all knew. She really did share those photos. Didn’t just take them—shared them. With men she barely knew.”

Jeremy leaned back, his cock rock-hard again, and grinned straight at the door.

“Your perfect, chaste mother really let loose after the divorce. And now I have every single message, every selfie, every moaning clip. Chronologically. With names. With date stamps.”

He paused briefly, then asked in that dangerously calm voice: