Heck no!

Élodie kept clapping her heavy breasts together for another few seconds, the wet, fleshy smacks filling the quiet bakery like some grotesque rhythm. Her face stayed blank, eyes unfocused, nipples pinched hard between her fingers as the pale mounds collided and bounced apart again and again.

Then, just as suddenly as before, she stopped. Her hands dropped to her sides. Without a word, she pivoted on her bare feet, turning her back to him. She bent forward at the waist, slow, deliberate, legs straight, so her platinum hair spilled down over one shoulder and her full ass pushed out toward him. Both manicured hands reached back, fingers digging into the soft, pale cheeks, and she spread them wide open.

Adrien’s breath caught in his throat.

There it was, his mother’s asshole, pink and perfectly clean, exposed completely under the dim shop lighting. Above it, the neat, waxed lips of her pussy peeked out, slightly parted from the stretch. The view was obscene, intimate, wrong on every level. Her hips started jiggling left to right, a steady, humiliating shake that made her ass cheeks wobble in her own grip and the little hole wink with each motion.

“I hope this bitch did what I said perfectly,” she said, voice still carrying that strange, scripted flatness even as her body performed for him. “It’s my first time puppeteering a dumb milf like yours. But it’s fun, I should do it more often.” She paused, her ass still swaying side to side, cheeks spread obscenely wide. Then her tone sharpened, loud and crude: “But well, what I wanted to say was, KISS MY ASS, LOSER!”

The yell echoed off the tiled walls, sharp enough that Adrien flinched, heart slamming against his ribs. Someone outside might hear. A late-night jogger, a neighbor walking their dog, anyone could glance through the gaps in the blinds and see his naked mother screaming vulgarities while spreading herself in her own bakery.

He couldn’t tear his eyes away. Despite the rage, despite the disgust twisting his gut, he stared. He’d never seen a woman like this in real life. Kaylee still wouldn’t let him past heavy petting, always slapping his hand away with a giggle and a “not yet, baby.” His mother, the prim, untouchable Élodie Valenti, was showing him everything, more than he’d ever seen on any girl and doing it on command.

“What?” his mother continued, ass still jiggling in her grip, hole and pussy on full display. “Cat got your tongue? I know, bet you want to really kiss her ass, don’t you, you stupid loser.”

Adrien’s face burned hotter. “What—no?!” he sputtered, voice higher than he wanted. “Stop doing that! I want to talk to my mom’s face, not her ass, make her stop!”

The words tumbled out before he could think, and the second he said “make her stop,” something twisted low in his stomach. Hot. Wrong. The idea that someone, some random voice on the phone could **** his proud, controlling mother to debase herself like this… and that he was begging that someone for mercy… it made his pulse thud in a way he hated himself for noticing.

Élodie’s hands released her ass cheeks with a soft slap, the pale flesh snapping back into place as she straightened up and turned to face him again. Without pause, her palms swung upward in a sharp, deliberate motion, slapping the undersides of both heavy breasts hard enough to send them bouncing upward. The pale mounds lifted and dropped with a heavy, fleshy jiggle, nipples tracing arcs in the air before settling again, reddening slightly from the impact.

“Don’t lie to me, man,” she said, voice still laced with that crude, borrowed contempt. “I know you just wanted to see these puppies again.”

Adrien’s throat tightened. He couldn’t speak, couldn’t even form a denial. Because it was true. He’d always stolen glances at her cleavage when she leaned over the counter to arrange macarons, the way her crisp blouses strained against those full, perfect tits, the little gold crucifix forever nestling right in the shadow between them. He’d hated himself for it every time, but he’d looked anyway.

Élodie’s blank eyes stared through him as she continued, voice flat and obedient.

“Yes, he is staring. Yes, I know he likes them, I’ve seen him look at me obscenely many times. Yes, he is still looking.”

Her fingers found her nipples again, pinching them firmly between thumb and forefinger. She began tugging them up and down in a slow, rhythmic pull, lifting her breasts by the stiff pink peaks before letting them drop and bounce, over and over, the motion hypnotic and humiliating. She started walking toward him, bare feet silent on the scattered bills, hips swaying slightly, tits bouncing in time with her grip.

“Hey, bro,” she said, the mocking masculine tone dripping from her elegant lips. “Here, I’m sure you’d love to have her nipple in your mouth again. I assure you, you can do it, she won’t say a thing. Would you, bitch?”

Then her voice pitched higher, falsely sweet and feminine, a cruel parody of herself: “Oh no, Master, I know I’m just a milf who should have her tits sucked.”

Adrien’s back hit the door, he had nowhere left to retreat. Élodie closed the final gap in one fluid step, her naked body pressing fully against his. Her heavy breasts squished softly against his chest, warm and yielding, nipples hard points through his thin hoodie. The scent of her body mixed with vanilla, butter, and her arousal filled his nose. Her face was inches from his, ice-blue eyes completely vacant, lips slightly parted as if waiting for the next line.

He reached up instinctively, fingers brushing toward the white AirPod in her ear, **** to rip it out and scream at whoever was on the other end.

“Oh and don’t touch those AirPods, unless you want to be a mindless puppet like mommy here”, his mother said matter of factly.

“Bro, don’t worry,” she murmured, breath warm against his lips, her body still pinned to his.

“Just one minute of talking to your mom told me everything I needed to know about what a bitch she is. I just thought I’d get some money from this stupid bakery, but she had to be a rude bitch, so I made her strip naked and kneel on the floor to collect the money she threw onto it as punishment.”

Hearing her say it, his proud, untouchable mother describing herself as a rude bitch who deserved to be stripped and **** to grovel, sent a dark, twisted satisfaction curling through him. Her empty eyes stared into his, waiting, as her soft, naked curves stayed pressed against him like she belonged there.

“How are you doing this?” Adrien stammered, the words tumbling out weak and ****, his back still pinned against the door by his mother’s naked body.