Font Size:  

Peyton: I hate my mom so much. Monica may be a MILF, but that doesn’t mean that she can cheat on my dad! Even worse, she’s doing it in front of everyone and humiliating my dad in the process. As a result, I decide to intervene because her boyfriend’s hot. Brant Harrison is an older man with bronzed skin, a broad chest, and rippling abs that make me go ahhhhhhhh. Even better, I’m going to steal this man …and make some crazy waves while we’re at it.

Brant: Who is this girl? A beautiful young blonde comes onto me out of nowhere, lush and curvaceous with the most innocent “Bambi eyes” I’ve ever seen. Peyton claims she just moved to town, but I know there’s more to the story than that. The curvy girl’s got something up her sleeve, and I’m going to force her to reveal the truth … even as I punish her for her lies!

Get out your life vest because you’ll need it while reading this story about Peyton and her man! Sure, Peyton’s a little deranged because she’s hatched a scheme to fix her parents’ marriage, but haven’t we all gone a little crazy before? Besides, that’s why we love our heroines, right? Peyton’s heart is in the right place, but the problem is that Brant wants her body … and he doesn’t care what he has to do to get it. Pick your jaw up off the ground because this story is filth at its finest, and breaks boundaries with its tales of hedonism and heat. Be forewarned, however, because this book is not reading material for the faint of heart! Punished By My Mom’s Boyfriend is a follow-up to Three On One, but all of my tales are standalones and may be read in any order.

*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************



“Hello?” I call, putting my bags down by the front door. “Is anyone home?”

The gloomy interior of the house is my only answer and I frown. My parents have been on the outs recently, so I wasn’t expecting a homey welcome scene per se. But I thought someone would be here to greet me at the very least. After all, my dad retired early from his job as a tax accountant, and my mom hasn’t worked for as long as I can remember. So someone should be here in the middle of the day, right?

But my mouth sets in a grim line because the situation at my parents’ house has been dire for the last few months. My dad was tight-lipped during our phone calls, but after some determined probing, he blubbered that my mom’s been cheating on him, and with the pool boy too. What a cliché! Could Monica be any less original? I swear, it seems that middle-aged housewives are always cheating with the pool boy, the golf pro at the country club, or even the handyman who comes to fix a leaky sink. All we need is the Amazon delivery guy next, and the charade will be complete.

But the worst part is that this is no charade. My dad, Rudy, is devastated by the whole thing because evidently, my mom’s not holding back. She brings the pool boy into the house on a regular basis, and then they retire to the master bedroom before making loud, noisy love. She’s totally shameless, and even flaunts her affair for the entire community see by taking said pool boy out on dates in public places, complete with gross PDA where they play handsy and footsy. It’s a total shock to everyone because this is just not done in our little town of Oakdale, Illinois. We’re quite conservative and family-oriented, so Monica’s actions are beyond the pale.

But I feel terrible for my dad because he genuinely loves Monica. They’ve been together since high school, and as far as I know, Rudy’s never even kissed another woman. Monica’s been his one and only since he was sixteen, and now, at the ripe old age of forty-five, she’s turned the tables on him.

Even worse, my father’s basically become a shut-in because he’s so depressed. He’s vacated the master bedroom (due to my mom’s sex games) and sleeps on the sofa bed in his home office. Plus, he no longer leaves the house, as far as I can tell. My dad’s basically a prisoner in his own home, only slinking out at night to retrieve food from the refrigerator and to use the restroom. Basically, my dad’s a recluse, depressed and alone in his makeshift bedroom.

It's scary and disheartening because I love my father. I’ve always been close to Rudy because he was consistently there for me when I was growing up. Monica? Not so much. Despite being a stay-at-home mom, my mom wasn’t much of a mom. Instead, she was always hanging out with her girlfriends by the pool doing the whole “it’s always five o’clock” thing. Honestly, they weren’t stopping at the wine coolers and candy-colored martinis either. Monica and her friends were hitting the hard alcohol more often than not, and trust me, there’s nothing more cringey than a group of middle-aged women getting sloppy drunk.

But Rudy was different. My dad doted on me, and so despite working full time as a CPA, Rudy made it to every piano recital, every volleyball tournament, and even cheered me on when I competed in the local Miss Oakdale pageant. My dad didn’t care that I was chubby and could barely walk in the glittery high heels they had us wear. Rudy wanted everyone to know that the beauty with the big smile was his daughter, and that he was sure I’d win.

Well, I didn’t win, but the bond between me and Rudy strengthened. For example, after I moved to Chicago to pursue my dreams of being an actress, my dad was totally supportive. I had weekly calls with my father which were filled with heart to hearts about auditions, tidbits from my vocal coach, and of course, my fear that I’d never make it on stage.

But after a year or so had gone by, I realized that something was wrong in my dad’s life, and finally, Rudy revealed the marital issues cropping up between him and Monica. Then, my calls picked up in frequency because it was clear Rudy was depressed. Soon, I was dialing my dad every day to make sure he was okay, and then sometimes twice a day when I was particularly worried. Things got so terrible that I decided to quit my job in the big city and to return to Oakdale. After all, my dad’s taken care of me my whole life; now, it’s time for me to take care of him in return.