Say goodnight to the family

Alex’s knees are a bit shaky as he climbs out of the tub and dries himself off. Although Mrs. Murphy did a very thorough job of milking his prick, the experience was so fantastic that he remains semi-erect as he dries off and pulls on the clean nightshirt Mrs. Murphy gave him. He is unused to sleeping in anything other than his underwear, and the feeling of the nightshirt against his otherwise bare body is awkward. He vows to unburden himself of it before he climbs under the bedcovers.

“This will remain our little secret,” were Mrs. Murphy’s words. Alex laughs to himself. “What does she think I’m going to do? Go out there and say, ‘Goodnight, Mr. Murphy. I hope you get as good of a handjob as your wife just gave to me’?”

Alex hangs up his damp towel, gathers up his things and takes them to his room. After dropping them off, he heads out to the family room to say goodnight to his host family. His heart begins to race at the thought of facing Mrs. Murphy so soon after unloading such a massive load of spunk into her hand.

He finds Mr. and Mrs. Murphy seated in their own chairs, facing the fireplace. Mr. Murphy is half-reading and half-dozing, with his legs extended toward the fire. Mrs. Murphy is busily at work on a knitting project. As Alex looks at her hands, skillfully and quickly manipulating the knitting needles, he can’t help but reflect on how skillfully and speedily she worked his cock. He shakes his head to drive the thought out of his mind.

“Um... I just wanted to say goodnight, Mr. and Mrs. Murphy,” he says. A raised eyebrow from the wife reminds him of her instructions. “I mean, ‘Mom.’” He finds it curious — and a little disturbing — that Mr. Murphy has made no corresponding request about how to be addressed. “I’m really looking forward to tomorrow.” He feels his cheeks growing warm when he looks at the woman, and he realizes he is incapable of keeping eye contact with her.

Mr. Murphy stirs himself from his half-slumber, snorts, and says, “G’night.” With that, his eyes close, and he clearly has no interest in prolonging the conversation.

Mrs. Murphy looks up brightly at Alex, giving no outward indication of their illicit bathtub encounter. “Oh, Alex, you are fitting in so well. I already think of you as the son I never had. Come here and give me a kiss on the cheek.” Alex feels his cheeks growing even warmer as his mind tries to reconcile these words with the filthy-talking cougar who was looking forward to getting fucked repeatedly by him.

“And you did a very good job with your bath, dear,” she continues. “Look at how fresh and clean you are! Your cheeks are nice and rosy. Whatever your bath time routine is, we’ll have to be sure to keep it up.” She gives him a sly wink, and Alex looks nervously at her husband. Fortunately, he is oblivious to the interaction.

“You did forget to comb your hair, though, dear,” she says, disapprovingly. “Why don’t we go back into the bathroom, and I can help you with that?”