Home again

You stare at the picture your sister sent you, memorizing her curves. The gentle swell of her breasts. She’s always had an amazing body, but she’d grown positively voluptuous after she’d had Ronnie. She still has some of the fat leftover from her pregnancy, but most of it is thankfully concentrated in her breasts and hips. Her face is a little chubbier than it used to be, but you think it only makes her look cuter. Fuck, you can’t wait until you can your way with her. You forgot to ask if anyone was home besides her. Hopefully she’s alone and you get to have her all to yourself for an hour or two. Otherwise you may have to work something out later on.

Putting your phone away, you enter the movie theater again just as what looks like the final action scene is playing out. Gunshots and explosions and action movie one-liners thunder through the theater and the audience seems to be lapping it all up.

You feel two sets of eyes on you almost as soon as you start ascending the theater steps. You glance upwards. Marissa has reclaimed her seat with her family, and from the enraptured looks on their faces they seem to not have any issue with her being absent for a decent chunk of the movie.

The busty ebony MILF chews her lower lip as you approach her row. She shoves a hand between her thighs and smooshes her pants against her pussy and smiles. Fuck. She must really be enjoying the feeling of your cum to do that.

You lower your hand to brush the side of her right breast as you pass her. The soft tit wobbles slightly with the impact. Marissa stares at you longingly, and you have a feeling that it’s taking a lot of willpower on her part to stop herself from following you up to your row, where Sharon is waiting.

Sharon is sitting in almost the exact same position she was in when you left, only there’s a significantly larger dent in the bowl of semen-coated popcorn than there was previously. The beautiful blue-eyed MILF quirks an eyebrow at you and shifts her legs inward to allow you passage.

“You were gone for a while. I think the movie’s almost over,” Sharon whispers right after you sit down in your seat. She leans towards you, drawing your eyes to her expansive pale cleavage. Her eyes stare at you, simultaneously inquisitive and unjudging.

For a moment, you think about what to say to her. You can’t exactly tell her what you’d done with Marrisa. Not yet. You decide to relay her a slightly skewed version of the truth.

“Yeah, I know. Tiffany called me when I was on my way back and she just would not get off the phone.”

“Oh?” Sharon grins. “I take it from the amount of time it took for you to get back here, you had a productive discussion?”

You shrug.

“I guess so. I’m not really used to her wanting to talk to me. She was always so busy with her friends and boyfriends, and now that she has Rick and Ronnie she usually doesn’t have time for me.”

“But she made time today. That’s a good sign, don’t you think?”

You allow yourself a small smile. Somehow you don’t think Sharon would be quite as positive as she is now if she knew the real reason Tiffany had called you, or what you intend to do because of it. She may be predisposed to do whatever it takes to “rehabilitate” you, but she still has her limits. Hell, she won’t even let you have sex with her and her personality is still very much intact, too, as far as you know. One day, though, she will be so hopelessly under your spell that when you tell her the truth, she’ll fully support everything you’ve done. Hell, she might even start helping you gain access to more prime MILF material if any of her clients happen to fall into a trance while they’re in a session with her.

“Yeah, I think so. A good sign,” you put your hand on Sharon’s thick thigh and give it a squeeze. She hums contentedly and leans back in her seat, treating your groping as a matter of course.

The two of you spend the remainder of the movie in companionable silence. She idly munches on some of her popcorn while you alternate between groping her thighs, pussy, or tits. You enjoy having the freedom to feel a woman up as you please.

Soon, the credits start rolling and the theater lights turn on to their full brightness. Chattering soon fills the room as people begin getting up from their seats and making their way to the exit. You and Sharon do the same, and you find yourself glancing downward toward the lower rows where Marissa was sitting to find her standing in the aisle next to Frank. The rest of the Lewis family has begun shuffling their way out of the row. Her sons are carrying the popcorn bowls and sodas. They say something to her as they enter the aisle.

She glances up to where you’re standing for but a moment before smiling and responding. The boys shrug and say something back before leaving. Frank and Marissa stay in the aisle conversing.

Sharon stands up and you do the same. She carries the popcorn and you take the half-empty cup of soda that you hadn’t even taken a sip out of.

“So, did you have a good time?” you ask.

Sharon nods.

“I did, thank you. What about you? I’d ask if you liked the movie, but I don’t think either of us watched enough of it to form an opinion.”

You nod.

“You’re right about that. I did enjoy myself, though. My favorite part was when you gave me a blowjob in front of all these innocent moviegoers.”

Sharon glances around quickly before glaring at you.

“Keep your voice down!” she hisses. Her sapphire eyes become hard as diamonds. “Do you want me to lose my practice?”

She crosses her arms beneath her breasts, pushing them upward. She stares at you sternly, obviously waiting for an apology.

“No, I don’t. I thought I was being quiet. I’m sorry, it won’t happen again,” you mutter.

She hums like a stern mother who isn’t quite ready to believe that you’re sufficiently humbled, but doesn’t want to yell at you further.

“It had better not,” she says, more quietly this time. “Or our future… sessions together will have to be done strictly on a one-on-one basis.”

You catch sight of the pube between her two front teeth. It’s amazing that she still hasn’t noticed it after all this time. You briefly consider letting her know that there’s something between her teeth before deciding against it.

“Wouldn’t that be bad for my recovery, though?” you say.

Sharon’s eyes flick downward for a moment before meeting yours.

“I’m not sure. I think we got a lot done last night when we…” she flushes cutely. “Anyway, I’m pretty confident I can help you even if I can only do so in private settings, but I’d rather not risk it. So please, John. Exercise some discretion.”

You nod.

“Will do. We should probably get going. Would it be okay if we stopped over at my house on our way back? Tiffany said she wanted to see me soon and I think she wants to talk to me further about something,” you say.

Sharon smiles widely, showing white teeth which were only marred by the presence of the pube still trapped between them.

“Is that so? That’s fantastic!” she replies jubilantly. “Sure. Of course, I’ll drive you home.”

“Thanks. That’s really nice of you, Sharon,” you say.

The beautiful, raven-haired MILF smiles and shakes her head.

“Don’t worry about it. Your mother’s probably worried about you. Speaking of which, has she called you at all since yesterday?”

“No,” you shake your head. “She hasn’t even texted me, either, but that’s not unusual.”

Sharon frowns at that. You get the feeling you’ve just opened up a new avenue for her to explore in your “therapy.”

“By the look on your face, I can tell you want to ask me more about me and Mom, but can we hold off until later? The theater’s getting empty and they’ll probably send the cleaning staff at any moment,” you preempt her.

She stares at you for a long moment before sighing.

“Very well,” she acquiesces, if unhappily. “But I will want to ask you about how you and your mother are doing soon. It’s important that I have a good idea of what’s going on in your relationship so that I can better help you with your recovery.”

“I said we’ll talk about it, so don’t worry. Thanks for being so cool about this. You’ve been an incredible help so far,” you say.

She allows herself a small smile.

“No problem.”

The two of you file out of the row you’d had to yourselves and begin walking down the aisle. Within seconds, you run into Frank and Marissa who are still occupying the middle of the aisle. Both of them turn to face you, and Frank wears what seems to be a genuine smile. The black man has short dark hair, brown eyes, and a small vertical scar along the right side of his chin.

Marissa’s eyes flicker with lust. You glance briefly between her thick thighs. The material of her pink yoga pants is darkened between her legs, yet despite that she doesn’t look uncomfortable at all. If anything, she looks happy. She squeezes her legs together and sighs. Damn.

“Hey John,” she greets you. Her husband does the same, a far more innocent smile on his face. You glance back at his wife, and you think back on your time with Marissa in the bathroom. Her pussy had been so tight and hot and welcoming. How could he neglect such a beautiful woman who needed nothing more than a good fuck? Well, his loss is your gain. You’d enjoyed it when Marissa had professed her obedience to you, and had even offered to divorce her husband should you command it.

You grin genuinely at him, at his innocence. He probably thinks his wife is as loyal as a woman can be, yet less than five minutes with her and his wife was ready to betray him completely and utterly. He has no idea that his marriage only exists now because you allow it. A part of you wants to tell Marissa to end it now, if only to prove her loyalty to you. You should hate yourself for that. It’s wrong. It’s immoral. You’d be devastated if anyone did it to you. Yet, the part of you that used to feel guilty whenever you’d done something wrong seems much quieter now. In its stead, another, darker part of you has started whispering, if only to fill the silence within your soul. You feel like a spoiled rich child who committed a crime only to be bailed out and given a clean slate by his parents. There’s so much you can do now, and you’ve barely gotten started.

You’ve had less than five minutes with Marissa in a trance. You can scarcely imagine what you’ll be able to make her do after ten minutes. Or after twenty. A month from now, she might not even remember her husband’s name.

Frank gives Sharon a once-over. His dark brown eyes linger on her breasts for a moment longer than appropriate, and it takes a decent amount of concentration to stop yourself from glaring at him.

“I’m Frank. Are you John's mother?”

Sharon smiles amicably.

“Mm. I’m Sharon. And no, I’m not his mother. I’m only his best friend’s mom, but we’re so close I might as well be his aunt. I took him out to the movies to say thank you for helping me yesterday while I was in a trance.”

Frank glances at you again with raised eyebrows before refocusing on Sharon.

“Really? Did John tell you he just helped my wife that way? She’d fallen into a trance a few minutes after we sat down here and John was willing to keep her company and make sure nothing happened to our seats while we went to get concessions.”

Sharons nods.

“Yes, I know. I stumbled upon the two of them when I got into the theater.”

“You must be proud of him,” Frank says. “Not too many young men his age would be willing to help a tranced woman like that.”

Sharon gives you a momentary glance before nodding.

“John's special.”

You know she’s only saying that because of what you did to her, but you can’t help the warmth that spreads through your chest.

Marissa smiles.

“You got that right. I wish my boys were half as considerate as he is. Hey honey, don’t you think we should do something to reward John for being so thoughtful?”

Frank quirks an eyebrow.

“That’s right; you said you wanted to have him over for dinner. I guess we could do that, if he’s up for it. What do you think, John?” Frank and Marissa stare at you. It’s funny. Frank looks somewhat puzzled; his wife wants to have you over and he seems somewhat **** to extend the invitation. He probably wouldn’t have done it if Marissa apparently hadn’t nagged. Marissa, however, seems ****. Her eyes almost plead with you to say yes. They’re the same eyes that begged you for attention when she willingly gave you ironclad **** material against her to buy your trust. What will she have in store for you when you show up at her house?

“That’s nice of you to invite him. John could definitely stand to make a few more friends,” Sharon comments when you don’t respond right away.

Frank smiles at Sharon. His eyes flick to her breasts again for a second. Huh. Didn’t Marissa say he didn’t find her attractive anymore? You wonder if he’s been having second thoughts about their marriage. Or maybe he’s having an affair? His wandering eye would seem to indicate that he’s at least interested in other women. You’d never share Sharon with him, though. Not in a million years. The idea of sharing any woman with another man repulses you to your very core. Speaking of which, you should probably tell Marissa you don’t want her having sex with Frank anymore. Even though he hasn’t touched her in a few months, the idea of extracting a promise of exclusivity from her is enough to make your cock harden. How about that? Even though you came multiple times already, you still have more in you apparently.

“It’s really not a problem. We’re happy to have him over. Plus, it’ll be a good opportunity to teach our boys how to treat a guest,” his voice is more level now. He turns to face you. “So, what do you say about coming for dinner at our house?”

“I’d love to have dinner with you guys. When did you want to have me over? I think I’m free most nights this week.”

Frank opens his mouth, but his wife interrupts him.

“We can have you over whenever you want. Just pick a day and time. We’ll make time for you, so don’t worry about inconveniencing us,” Marissa crosses her arms beneath her huge breasts. Even in her low neckline, her boobs seem to barely fit.

“Really?” you say, enjoying the way her husband manages a weak smile to make himself look kind in front of Sharon. “Are you sure? I wouldn’t want to impose.”

“You wouldn’t be. Like Marissa said, you won’t be inconveniencing us,” Frank backs up his wife, his tone still somewhat hesitant.

“Alright. How does tomorrow night sound, then?”

“Tomorrow’s perfect! Isn’t it, Frank?” Marissa nudges her husband with her elbow.

Frank gives his wife an incredulous look, but shrugs when Marissa puts her hands on her wide hips and stares at him expectantly.

“We were going to make steaks. I think I have enough marinating for one extra guest,” he says. “I mean, unless you want to invite Sharon too while you’re at it? We can stop at the grocery store later and pick up more steaks.”

Sharon shakes her head.

“I’ll be busy tomorrow, but thanks for the offer. I wouldn’t mind coming over at a later date, though.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Frank smirks.

“We should probably exchange numbers,” Marissa whips out her smartphone and taps the screen a few times as she cycles to her contacts screen.

You smile and rattle off your cellphone number. Marissa types it into her phone with practiced ease. You wonder if she remembered it consciously from when you made her memorize it in a trance, or if the information would only become accessible to her while she was hypnotized.

Your phone vibrates in your pocket.

“Nice. I just sent you a text with our address. I’ll let you know what time we’re having dinner so you know when to come over, but don’t be afraid to drop in if any of us is home,” Marissa turns to her husband. “Alright, I think that about wraps it up. The boys are probably waiting for us near the car.”

Frank nods.

“Okay. It was nice meeting you both.”

Sharon smiles.

“And you as well. I hope you and John have a good time tomorrow,” she shifts slightly, and you get the feeling she’s about ready to leave.

“Thanks,” Marissa says. She gives you a parting look. “See you tomorrow.”

“See you,” you wave goodbye as Frank and Marissa turn and walk down the aisle toward the theater exit.

You and Sharon start walking.

“They seem nice,” Sharon comments, opening the theater door with her back and allowing you to pass. She chucks the bowl of popcorn into a nearby garbage can. “I’m a little surprised at how forward Marissa is, but she seems to like you.”

You nod, and look around the outside of the theater. The red-carpeted wing of the building is fuller than it was earlier, with multiple groups of people streaming out of open theater doors. You see no sign of Frank or Marissa. They must have already made their way past the concession area.

“Yeah, Marissa and I really hit it off earlier. I didn’t expect her to invite me to have dinner with her family, though. Isn’t that something you only do once you’re friends with someone?”

Sharon looks at you for a moment.

“Usually, but maybe she already sees you as a friend. You did help her when she was hypnotized, after all. She probably just wants to pay you back for your kindness. Still, it was really nice of her to invite you. It’ll be good for you, I think. Your recovery, I mean.”

You pass the concession stand and make your way towards the front door. The sun still shines brightly in the cloudless blue sky. Beyond the glass doors, cars roll slowly in and out of the parking lot.

“Oh yeah?”

Sharon nods as you reach the door. This time, you open it for her. She lets out a quick “thank you.”

“Yes. If you can form friendships and social connections, that’s a sign that the trauma my depraved son inflicted on you is beginning to heal.”

You give her a long look. You suppose that would make sense if you were in fact mentally and emotionally scarred by what happened to you in high school. You’ll let Sharon believe what she wants, though. Soon enough, she’ll fall into a trance again and the whole therapy charade won’t really matter anymore.

Half an hour later, you pull the convertible into your driveway alongside Tiffany’s blue four-door sedan. You can’t remember how many cars she’d gone through before Dad bought her that one.

Your mother’s SUV is conspicuously absent. She usually doesn’t park it in the garage because it just fits in there with your dad’s BMW and she hates going through the hassle of easing it out of the garage every time she wants to drive.

“I haven’t been here in so long,” Sharon murmurs, unbuckling her seatbelt. Her big tits jiggle slightly with her movements. “Do you think Lind- your mother’s home?”

You shake your head.

“Nah. If her car isn’t in the garage, it usually means she isn’t here. Unless Tiffany borrowed it for something and why would she if her car’s right there?”

“Good point,” Sharon says, a hint of disappointment in her voice.

The two of you step out of the convertible. Crisp, warm afternoon air kisses your skin. The sound of crickets gives your home an altogether more natural feel than the cemented area around the mall. You relax your muscles. You’re home.

You check your phone real quick to find a text from an unknown number. It’s probably the one Marissa said she sent. You open it.

<Hey, it’s Marissa from the movies! Here’s my address. Can’t wait to see you tomorrow! I’m going to do everything and anything I can to make sure we have an amazing night together. I’m also taking off work tomorrow to prepare so feel free to stop by anytime! PS - If you’re wondering how we’re going to get anything “done” while you’re at my house, I’m going to grab a few choice items from the pharmacy. Let’s just say we’ll have all the private time we need! XOXOXO>

Your lips stretch into a grin. Damn, that woman is precious. If you’ve read her message correctly, she seems to be planning on drugging her husband and her sons with sleeping pills, probably at dinner. Now that’s dedication. You make a note to reward her for that. Also interesting is her mention of taking the day off tomorrow, a Monday. That might mean she’ll be home alone if her husband works normal hours and her sons go to high school, and you’re tempted to pop in and take advantage of her offer.

“What’s got you smiling? Another message from Tiffany?” Sharon walks up to you, large breasts swaying and jiggling.

“Something like that,” you put your phone back in your pocket. “Come on. It doesn’t look like anyone’s home besides Tiff, but you can wait in the kitchen or TV room while I go and talk to her. Unless you want to leave.”

Sharon shakes her head.

“I’m free for the rest of the day. What kind of therapist would I be if I didn’t spend it with my number one patient?” She smiles prettily. “Take as much time as you need. I’ll wait up for you.”

Smirking, you pass her and make your way to the front door. You fish your house key from your pocket, but before you can even put in it the lock, you hear a clank and the door opens, revealing Tiffany Doe, your sister. Fully clothed. She’s tied her beautiful red hair into a ponytail. Her green eyes glimmer happily as she stares at you. She’s wearing a loose gray long-sleeved shirt and a pair of black booty shorts that hug her thick thighs.

“‘Sup, bitch,” she greets you, smiling even as she insults you.

Something raw wells up in your chest, and for a brief moment you’re reminded of times when you were younger. You grin back.

“Not much. How you doing, whore?”

“Hmmm. Not bad,” she opens the door further and steps back. “Hey, is that Mrs. Thompson’s car? Nice ride, Mrs. Thompson!”

She waves at Sharon as the older woman walks up behind you, her shoes thudding on the brick pathway.

“Thanks, Tiffany. How are you?”

Tiffany shrugs. You and Sharon enter the house. The dark, wooden floors turn you thudding footfalls into pitter-patters. You bend down and start removing your shoes. Sharon follows your lead and does the same.

You hear a low clap as Tiffany shuts the door.

“Same old. I have a son now, but I think you met him at the mall yesterday.”

Sharon chuckles.

“I did. Ronnie, right? He’s such a beautiful little boy. Is he here?” She looks around excitedly.

Tiffany shakes her head.

“Nah. Mom wanted to take him to the park and give me a break, you know? She dragged Dad with her so I have the house to myself,” she stretches her arms back. Even in her loose-fitting shirt, the swell of her big breasts becomes readily visible.

Sharon nods, “That’s nice of her. Wish I had someone to look after Jared when he was young.”

“How is Jared? Is he still doing sports?” Tiffany asks.

Sharon’s expression sours for a moment, but she quickly forces a smile. Tiffany doesn’t seem to have noticed the slip-up.

“Yeah. He made his school’s football team. He plays tight end, I think. I don’t really know that much about the sport, to be honest. That was always more of his father’s thing.”

“Gotcha,” Tiffany crosses her arms beneath her breasts. “So, you here to drop off my little brother or did you want to stay a while? I think Mom’ll be home in like an hour or so if you want to wait up for her.”

“I’d like that. Are you sure you don’t mind?” Sharon says.

Tiffany waves her concerns away.

“Yep,” she points down the hallway. “That way’s the kitchen, if you don’t remember. To the left is the living room. We have about every channel known to man if you want to watch a little TV.”

Sharon gives her a shrewd look.

“I get the sense you want to talk to John about something privately,” Tiffany blushes, and Sharon chuckles, continuing, “I’m a psychologist. I’m usually pretty good at reading a room. Don’t worry, I’ll get out of your hair. Have fun, you two.”

Her piece said, Sharon walks off towards the kitchen without another word. Her juicy bubble butt sways and jiggles with her every step.

Something jabs itself painfully into your arm.

“Ow!” You glare at your sister as you massage your throbbing arm. “What the hell was that for?”

Tiffany glares back, her face slightly flushed. Her green eyes narrow imperiously.

“For being a stupid pervert,” she states rather matter-of-factly. “Besides, I don’t know why you need to stare at Mrs. Thompson when you’ve got a perfectly hot older sister who’s more than happy to let you see her naked whenever you want.”

Suddenly, your throat seems very dry.

“Um…”

She grabs your arm and starts dragging you toward the stairwell.

“Come on. We only have like an hour before Mom and Dad get back, and I want to get as much appreciation out of you as I can until then.”

She’s weaker than you, but for some reason you find you have no strength in your body and you let her drag you up the stairs to her room.

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