Having partaken in innumerable incidents of fornication in the Bunker household over decades, Kristen was an expert on the subject. For example, she knew that Garrett’s room was the best place to hear the garage door open, especially with the window left open, making it a prime destination. In fact, the couple had become so practiced at reacting to the mechanical clarion call of Doug’s arrival that sometimes they would still finish if time permitted. She also knew that her son hated the sound of blinds rattling in the wind; although he understood their vitality as a mask, he would lift them from the very moment that it was safe to do so.
Thus, Kristen parked her car across the street and quickly walked to the door, trying to be as quiet as possible. For the last month, she had quietly suffered her overflowing libido, Garrett’s antipathy, feigning romance, and the stifling boredom. Now, for the first time in forever, she burned with reckless jealousy that made her throw caution to the wind.
She quietly opened the door and was immediately greeted to the expected sounds of copulation. She immediately identified her son’s vociferations, although his patient grunts and heavy breathing belied a level of investment far below what she was accustomed to. Perhaps he just seemed muted relative to his partner’s clamorous, piercing squawking. Whoever the bitch was, she was young and she clearly couldn’t handle Kristen’s personally trained stud.
At the top of the stairs, Kristen saw that her son’s door was wide open. Mouth dry and heart fluttering, Kristen’s toes curled as she placed step after silent step on the creak-prone wooden floor. Practically, the sheer volume of caterwauling within the small bedroom rendered her stealth largely optional. Within a minute, her shoulder hugged the wall besides Garrett’s door, and she slowly leaned forward to investigate.
Her head soon tracked the scene into her view, and the contents of the picture overwhelmed her sight. In center frame, a gargantuan, V-shaped, male back sweated and rippled with dedicated motion. Small, female feet peeked out from the background, the multi-colored painting on the toes visible from their intense clenching. Below, an elephantine, pale billy club, wrapped scantily with translucent black latex, walloped a tiny, pink snatch, its unyielding rigidity circumscribed by unraveling softness. His large hands clutched her skinny thighs, spreading them as wide as possible, opening her completely to his mercy. Garrett’s thumping, muscular ass, the driving engine of the youthful fornication, took no mercy on the willing co-ed; at a breakneck pace, it pulled out the shaft until only the swollen glans remained inside, and then jammed the fleshy colossus back into the tiny cavern as far as possible. At the end of the occasional downstroke, even after bottoming out, with several inches of cock still outside, Garrett kept pushing and rotating his hips; the move made his mom dizzy and his girlfriend shriek. Frothy, white lubricating fluid streamed out of the frantic, snug union, spilling onto the disheveled red sheets as Garrett steadily pulverized the little girl, her lanky haunches and bony thighs shaking from the drubbing.