Cucked by mom

In a quaint suburban neighborhood, where the houses were as similar as the lives they contained, there lived a young man named Alex. Alex was a typical teenager, navigating the murky waters of high school with the grace of a hippo in a tutu. His days were filled with the mundane: school, homework, and the occasional awkward social encounter. His mother, Linda, was his rock—beautiful, nurturing, and seemingly oblivious to the chaos that bubbled just beneath the surface of their seemingly perfect lives.

One evening, Alex returned home later than usual, the scent of his mother's cooking wafting through the hallways, mixing with the faint aroma of a recent shower. He tiptoed upstairs, hoping to avoid the usual interrogation about his day. As he approached his room, a muffled sound from his mother's bedroom stopped him in his tracks. It was a sound that didn't quite fit the domestic symphony of their home. Curiosity piqued, he pressed his ear to the door. The unmistakable rhythm of love-making grew clearer with each passing moment. His heart raced, a potent cocktail of shock and arousal flooding his system.

He recognized the deep, guttural grunts and his mother's stifled moans. The realization hit him like a sledgehammer—his mom was having an affair. But it wasn't the betrayal that sent a shiver down his spine; it was the eerie familiarity of the voice she was whispering sweet nothings to. It was Brett, the school bully who had made his life a living hell for years. The very thought of the cruel, muscular jock between his mother's legs was a twisted blend of anger and a confusing, burgeoning sexual fascination.

Alex clenched his fists, his knuckles turning white as he listened to the clandestine love affair unfold. The sound of the bed creaking in time with their hushed cries grew louder, painting a vivid picture in his mind that he desperately wanted to unsee. Yet, his body betrayed him, responding to the illicit sounds with an unwelcome arousal. He felt a mix of disgust and envy—his mother's lover was the epitome of masculinity, everything Alex felt he wasn't.

With trembling hands, he slowly turned the doorknob, cracking the door open just enough to peek inside. His mother lay sprawled on the bed, her hair splayed out like a fiery halo against the pillows. Brett hovered over her, his muscular back glistening with sweat. Alex's eyes were drawn to the tattoo that snaked down the bully's spine—the same one he'd seen in the school locker room. The sight of his mom's body writhing beneath her tormentor's was too much to bear.

In a moment of impulsive rage, Alex reached for his phone, his thumb hovering over the camera icon. He took a deep breath, silently willing his hand to steady. He needed proof, something to hold over Brett's head, to show his mother the monster she'd been sharing her bed with. The flash was off, the camera's click muffled by the sound of their passion. He snapped a few shots, capturing the intimate scene with a disturbing clarity. His mother's eyes were closed, lost in ecstasy, oblivious to the silent witness in the doorway.

With the photos secured, Alex retreated to his room, his mind racing. The sight of his mother's bare skin, the sound of her **** pleas for more, had left him in a state of both horror and unbearable arousal. He couldn't escape the images that now played on a loop in his mind. His mother, the woman who had cradled him in her arms and kissed his boo-boos away, was now cradling the man who had made his life a living hell. His mind grappled with the concept, trying to reconcile the conflicting emotions.

He threw himself onto his bed, his body taut with tension. His hand drifted down to the bulge in his pants, his mind a whirlwind of thoughts. He was hard as a rock, his erection straining against the fabric. It was a betrayal of his own will, a traitorous reaction to the illicit scene he'd just witnessed. He felt his cheeks burn with a mix of shame and excitement. He tried to push the thoughts away, but his hand had a mind of its own.

With trembling fingers, Alex unzipped his pants, his eyes still glued to the closed door. He couldn't help but imagine Brett's hands on his mother's body, her breasts bouncing with each of the bully's powerful thrusts. The thought sent a bolt of electricity through him, and before he knew it, his hand was wrapped around his shaft, stroking it with a fervor that mirrored the rhythm he'd heard. His mind swam with a mix of anger and a perverse fascination as he pumped himself, the images from the other room playing out in his head like a pornographic movie he hadn't consented to watch.

The photos on his phone were a silent testament to the affair, a visual diary of his mother's secret life. He clicked through them, each image more provocative than the last. The sight of Brett's muscular body dominating hers was a strange aphrodisiac, one that fueled his arousal despite the revulsion he felt. He stared at the screen, his eyes tracing the lines of his mother's body, her skin flushed with passion, her mouth open in a silent scream of pleasure. It was wrong, so wrong, but he couldn't tear his gaze away.

The sound of their muffled cries grew louder in his ears, the memory of their tryst echoing through his mind. He could almost feel the heat from their bodies, the weight of the moment pressing down on him. His hand moved faster, matching the tempo of their lovemaking. His mind was a battleground of emotions—fury, jealousy, and a strange, pulsing need. The more he watched, the more he found himself identifying with the role of the cuckold, the voyeuristic bystander to his mother's sexual liberation.

Alex returned to listen at the door again.

Alex's breath hitched as he heard Brett's gruff voice, "You like it when I fuck you like this, don't you, Linda?" His mother's breathy response was all he needed to confirm the sickening truth. "Oh, yes, baby," she cooed, her voice thick with lust. But then, something changed. Brett chuckled darkly, and the conversation took a turn that made Alex's blood run cold. "You know what else I like?" Brett said, pausing for effect. "Beating the shit out of your little boy."

Linda's voice grew more excited, "Oh, you're so bad," she exclaimed, her words barely coherent. "But maybe he needs it. Maybe he needs to know his place." Alex's heart sank as he realized what was happening. His mother was not only cheating on his father, but she was also giving her lover permission to hurt him, to assert dominance over him in the most public and humiliating way possible. The room grew hotter, his chest tightening as he listened to them discuss his impending doom with the casualness of choosing a dinner menu.

Brett chuckled, his tone predatory, "Don't worry, baby. I'll make sure he learns who's boss tomorrow. And when he comes home crying to you, you can tell him all about how I made you scream." The maliciousness in his voice was unmistakable. Alex felt a cold knot form in his stomach as he realized the depth of his bully's power over him, and the twisted pleasure his mother took in it. He could almost see the sadistic smile on Brett's face, the glint in his eye as he thought about the pain he'd inflict.

"Oh, yes," Linda murmured, her voice dripping with desire. "You're so strong, baby. So much more of a man than he'll ever be." The words stung Alex like a thousand bees, his mind reeling with the knowledge that his mother preferred the cruel embrace of his tormentor over his own protective arms. The room grew hazy, the sounds of their lovemaking a cacophony of pain and pleasure in his ears.

Brett's grunts grew louder, his pace quickening. "You're going to come for me, aren't you?" he growled, his hand gripping Linda's hair, pulling her head back. "You're going to come all over me while you think about your pathetic son." Alex watched in horror as his mother's body convulsed with pleasure, her back arching off the bed. "Yes," she moaned, her eyes fluttering closed. "Oh, yes, Brett. I'm coming."

The room seemed to pulse with their combined climax, the air thick with the scent of sex and sweat. Alex felt a strange mix of anger and arousal as he watched the muscles in Brett's back tense and release, the bully's powerful body claiming his mother in the most primal of ways. He heard the wet, sloppy sounds of their bodies connecting, the slap of skin on skin, and the guttural moans of satisfaction. His hand stilled on his erection, his breathing ragged and uneven.

With a final, earth-shattering grunt, Brett collapsed onto Linda, his weight pressing her into the mattress. Alex couldn't help but feel a twinge of envy at the raw power on display, the sheer physicality of the act. He closed his eyes, trying to will the images away, but they remained, seared into his brain like a brand. He took a deep breath, fighting the urge to join them, to claim what was rightfully his. But he knew that was a path that led to madness.

As the sounds of their passion subsided, Alex felt his own climax approaching, his hand moving in frantic circles around his throbbing shaft. He bit his lip, trying to muffle his own moans, not wanting to give away his presence. The culmination of his frustration, anger, and confusing attraction to the scene unfolding before him was too much to hold back. With a strangled cry, he came, his hot seed spurting onto his stomach, a silent declaration of his own submissive role in this twisted tableau.

After a few moments, he heard the rustling of bed sheets, the unmistakable sound of lovers disentangling themselves from each other. He hastily cleaned up, his heart hammering against his ribs as he shoved his phone into his pocket and retreated into the shadows. The floorboards creaked softly as he tiptoed away from the door, his mind racing with thoughts of what to do next. He needed to get out of there, to find a place to process what he'd just seen.

Alex hurried downstairs, his pulse pounding in his ears like a drumline. He grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge, trying to cool his flushed cheeks and calm his racing heart. He could still hear their muffled voices upstairs, the occasional giggle from his mother, the deep rumble of Brett's laughter. It was a stark contrast to the tension that filled the rest of the house. He slipped into the living room, the dim light from the hallway casting long shadows across the room.

As he leaned against the wall, trying to gather his thoughts, the floorboards above creaked, signaling their descent. He looked around frantically for a place to hide, finally settling on the large potted plant in the corner. It wasn't ideal, but it was better than being caught red-handed—or red-faced, in his case. He crouched down, his heart hammering against his ribs as if trying to escape the cage of his chest. He held his breath, listening to their footsteps growing closer.

The sound of their laughter sent a fresh wave of anger through him, the cruel edge to Brett's chuckles like a serrated knife. He watched as his mother's silhouette appeared in the doorway, her hair a wild mess, her clothes slightly askew. Brett followed, his tall frame seemingly swaggering with satisfaction. The sight of them together, so casually intimate, was like a dagger to Alex's soul. They moved into the living room, their shadows dancing across the floor, their whispers barely audible.

He knew he should be repulsed, but instead, his body responded with a traitorous hunger. The images from the photos and the sounds of their passion haunted him, driving him to act on the perverse impulses that had taken root in his psyche. That night, as he lay in bed, he found himself stroking his erection to the memory of his mother's moans, the rhythmic creak of the bed, and the visual of her body contorted in ecstasy beneath Brett's. It was a sickness, a secret he couldn't share with anyone.