Ryan Ferro, soon-to-be college student

A/N: I'm reposting the written ownership story chain from Sexual Privilege here to avoid chapter moderation delays that are plaguing that story as of late. Cross C, Khan, Altira, and 12shadesofnight have given me permission to copy their chapters over to this story. Any chapter not written by me will have a note on top giving credit to the original author, so if you have any compliments for those particular chapters, send them their way. Also, please feel free to contribute here, as this is where I will be publishing all further installments of this thread.

You grin triumphantly at the television screen as you send the last enemy careening off of a cliff edge with a particularly violent bash of your knight’s shield.

“Okay, that’s the last of them,” you say.

Beside you, your best friend Andrew O’Brien gasps.

“Looks like he dropped a legendary item for you,” Andrew says. “Ooh, it's a sword. Mine now!”

You barely have a moment to register the presence of the rare loot before your friend’s character swipes it from under you. You’re about to enter college and you’ve been friends with Andrew since middle school. You’re too used to his behavior to get angry now. Instead, you just look at him and raise your eyebrows.

“Really?” you say flatly.

Andrew smiles back at you shamelessly, crinkling the pale, freckled skin of his face. His mischievous blue eyes are full of mirth.

“Stop grinning like that, you dick. You look like a Leprechaun,” you chastise your redheaded friend.

“Well, Leprechauns are known for having treasures,” he shoots back, not missing a beat. "That legendary sword is probably worth a lot of gold."

“Whatever,” you pause the game and put your controller down. “I think I’m done for now.”

“Yeah, I’m starting to get hungry,” Andrew says. He puts his controller down. “I hope Mom comes back with the hot sandwiches soon.”

The thought of Andrew’s mother Kelly causes your cheeks to grow warm. Kelly O’Brien is a textbook example of a MILF and you’ve wanted her since the first time you laid eyes on her. She has dark red hair and deep emerald eyes. Her generous breasts and her thick, plump rear and her hot, wet lips have been the subject of more than one jerk-off session over the years.

“You alright, Ryan?” Andrew’s voice startles you from your thoughts.

You immediately feel ashamed and shake the images from your mind. You wonder what kind of guy would happily fuck his best friend’s mother if given the opportunity.

“Yeah, I’m cool,” you manage a weak smile. “I think I’m gonna go get a drink.”

“Alright,” he says. “Can you bring me a water bottle while you’re downstairs?”

“Sure,” you say before getting up and leaving your friend’s room.

The cool, crisp air of the air conditioned hallway kisses your skin as you walk towards the stairwell. When you reach the first floor, you hear a door squeak open and the smell of melted cheese and marinara sauce enters your nostrils.

“Andrew! Ryan! I’m home!” a voice calls out.

“Let me help you with that, Mrs. O’Brien,” you say as you approach the front door. The figure of Andrew’s voluptuous mother enters your vision and you have to make a concerted effort not to stare as she holds a white plastic bag of food in front of herself with both hands. This has the side effect of pushing her breasts together and accentuating her cleavage through her white tank top.

“Thanks, Ryan,” she smiles brightly at you. You smile back and immediately take the food off of her hands.

“I’ll get the plates,” she says. She opens a cabinet and you try stop thinking about the way her tight jeans accentuate her the curves of her ass. “Why don’t you figure out who’s who?”

You nod in understanding and take the packaged sandwiches out of the plastic bag.

Just for the hell of it, you grab a sharpie from the nearby junk drawer and write your name on the bottom of each of the packages. You set them down on the kitchen counter.

“Oh man, that smells good!” Andrew has finally made his way downstairs and into the kitchen. “Hey Mom. Thanks for getting dinner.”

“You’re welcome, honey,” Kelly grins at her son. “Go get your sandwich before it gets cold."

“Which one’s mine?” Andrew asks as he approaches the counter.

“I wrote our names on the bottom each package,” you say.

Andrew lifts one of the packages. “Hm, this one’s yours, Ryan.” He lifts another. “This one’s yours, too.” He lifts the final package. “Huh, I guess all the sandwiches are Ryan’s. What gives, Mom?”

You roll your eyes, figuring Andrew is playing along with your very lame joke.

“I don’t know,” Kelly furrows her brow. “They all have Ryan’s name on them, so they're his."

She looks at you. “I know I might be asking a lot, but would you be willing to share your sandwiches with us, Ryan?”

You furrow your eyebrows, completely confused by this sudden turn of events.

“Uh… sure?” you say.

“Thanks, Ryan. You’re so sweet!” Kelly gives you what your instincts are telling you is a completely genuine smile before she walks up to you and gives you an (unfortunately) chaste kiss on the cheek. She takes one of the packages for herself.

“Yeah, Ryan. You’re the best!” Andrew does the same with another package, quickly placing the sandwich on his plate before sitting down and digging in.

Completely weirded out, you remain standing by the counter as you stare at your best friend and his mother.

“Are you okay, buddy?” Andrew says. He and his mother are giving you concerned looks.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you shake your head and place the remaining sandwich on your plate. “For a moment there I thought you actually believed that all three sandwiches were mine just because I wrote my name on the packages.”

Kelly and Andrew glance at each other with raised eyebrows.

“But…” Kelly gives you a confused look. “But they are your sandwiches.”

Without thinking, you grab the sharpie again and scribble your name down on the table before Kelly or Andrew can react.

“I guess the table’s mine, too, right?” you try.

Kelly immediately picks up her plate mid-meal and places it on the counter. She then hurriedly grabs the salt, the napkins, and the placemats, too. Her frantic movements cause her impressive mammaries to jiggle beautifully. Despite your confusion, your manhood hardens.

“Andrew, get your plate off of Ryan’s table!” Kelly hisses at her son.

Andrew places his sandwich on his plate and lifts the plate off the table, his eyes downcast.

“Sorry, Mom," he says.

“Apologize to Ryan. It’s his table you were using without permission.”

“I’m sorry, bro,” Andrew says. “I won't use your table without your say-so again."

You stare at your best friend, aghast.