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1
Chrissy
The house is dead quiet. Of course, this is technically more than a house. It’s a huge, six-bedroom, full-fledged mansion in Montclair, New Jersey. It’s a fancy family home, in a fancy family neighborhood …but without the family. When my mom, Janice, still lived here, there was a lot of life, but the kind I can do without. She was always having friends over and hosting parties, with strange people coming and going. Even when it was just her, she’d have the music blaring away while she cooked some obscure vegan meal, or did one of her intense aerobics classes in the middle of the living room, with the streamed video on the widescreen TV. What was even weirder is that Janice would talk back to the TV instructor sometimes. When Richard, Chrissy, or Jazz shrieked, “You got it, girl!” Janice would howl back, “I know, I got it! I’m torching these calories, yee-haw!”
But eventually, the party lifestyle Janice was leading directly resulted in the end of her relationship with Brad, who actually owns the mansion we live in. It’s a simple story, actually. Mom and I moved in with Brad last year, right at the start of my senior year of high school. She and Brad were dating and intended on making a real go of it. But a couple of months later, Mom realized that she was craving a polyamorous lifestyle. Crazy, right? But it makes sense in a weird, twisted sort-of way because Janice had me as a teenager in high school. She never got a chance to “sow her wild oats” because she was always looking after me, and now, Janice wanted to spread her wings and fly. Honestly, it sounded like a mid-life crisis.
But the long and the short of it is that my mom broke up with Brad, and moved out. She left me here with her ex-boyfriend, but it’s more or less okay because Brad and I hardly ever interact since the place is so big. Plus, I really appreciate his generosity, and can’t imagine living with my mom as she pursues her life of polyamory with grizzled old dudes sporting graying chest hair. Gross.
As I lie curled up on a lush designer couch, a book nestled on my lap, I scoop another helping of rocky road ice cream into my mouth and let the delicious sweetness melt on my tongue. This is my favorite thing to do - binge read the latest romance novel while I snack on a delicious treat. I have a serious sweet tooth, something Mom often shames me about, although I don’t think Janice necessarily intends to be mean. I think she’s mostly projecting because with her long blonde hair, big blue eyes, and killer body, Mom is still very beautiful at age 35. Staying thin and attractive has always been a priority for Janice, and I think it’s helped her maintain a sense of confidence even when she was a single mom struggling with the pressures of raising a child on her own. I appreciate my mom’s sacrifice. I really do.
But at the same time, I’m very different. Although I inherited Janice’s blonde hair and blue eyes, my body is curvy and soft. I have large double D’s, a wide ass and milky thighs. While Mom was always showing off her toned abs in silly crop tops and other revealing shirts, my tummy is soft, with gentle rolls. Whereas Mom diets and exercises like a maniac, doing SoulCycle, TaeBo, Jane Fonda, as well as Atkins, South Beach, and intermittent fasting, I’m happy to say I’ve never bought into that stuff. Those programs are just fads that will help you lose weight in the short term, but nothing ever sticks in the long.
That’s not to say I don’t enjoy being sassy and flirty. I’m definitely interested in men because size is nothing but a number. In fact, I’ve always found Brad, my mom’s ex, to be super-hot. Is that wrong? He used to date Janice, but you’d have to be blind not to go ga-ga at the sight of this guy. He’s tall, at least six four, with a strong, muscular frame, and thick black hair from which strands are always escaping into his eyes, which are a vibrant blue. Most of all, there’s a raw masculinity about Brad that I find completely irresistible. It’s the way he holds himself with confidence, and how he makes a woman feel seen with a mere flash of those piercing blue eyes.
But of course, my attraction is completely inappropriate. Not only is he Mom’s ex-boyfriend, and more than twice my age, but he’s also kind of an asshole. He’s not mean, don’t get me wrong. After all, he let me continue living here after Mom moved out so I could finish high school. But even after I graduated a couple months ago, he didn’t kick me out. Instead, I’m working retail at a beauty supply store called Mickey’s, and yet Brad still hasn’t asked me to leave. So he’s not a cruel person by any means. He’s just arrogant, cold, and standoff-ish, and doesn’t really pay much attention to me. And honestly, that only makes memoreintrigued.
But there’s another reason why it’s inappropriate for me to have the hots for Brad: it’s because he has way more experience than me.Waymore. I’m not a virgin, but I’ve been with a few guys in my life. Having gone to an all-girls school, St. Mary’s here in Montclair, I didn’t get a lot of exposure to men or dating on a regular basis. Besides, the guys I went out with don’t even compare to my mom’s ex. They were boys who weighed a hundred fifty soaking wet, while Brad’s a man. Maybe that’s why I can’t help but secretly ogle my mom’s ex when he walks around without a shirt on, or when he’s about to go out to some party or other and he’s dressed to the nines. Especially now that Janice is gone, the attraction rages stronger than ever. After all, I’m an adult woman with needs. But of course, the alpha male hardly notices my existence. I think he sees me as just some kid who’s living under his roof until she gets her shit together.
I sigh, scooping little spoonfuls of frozen deliciousness into my mouth. I’ve stopped paying attention to my book. It’s so quiet in the house that I can’t help but wonder what Brad’s up to tonight. I know he’s home because his black sedan was parked in the driveway when I got home from work. And yet in the few hours that have passed since then, there hasn’t been a single peep.
Where could he be? Of course, this place is enormous, so the answer is “anywhere.” He could be in his home office, the master bedroom, the gym, or his private library. I rarely see Brad downstairs, except for when he’s on his way back in from swimming laps in the pool outside. The sight always makes me go weak in the knees because the alpha male is gorgeous. Water clings to his spectacularly sculpted body, running down that bronzed form in rivulets. He’s usually got a towel draped around his waist, but the thick terry doesn’t hide his sculpted thighs, nor the massive member beneath his shorts. God I’d love to get a look at that fire hose. I’m sure it’s so big that I’d choke on it, or scream when it makes an entrance. But what am I thinking? These daydreams are just the fantasies of a young girl.
Still, even if Brad and I don’t cross paths that often, there are usually tell-tale signs of his presence. A cleared throat, a slammed door, sometimes even the sounds of his baritone voice floating down the hall if he happens to take a business call. But tonight, there’s nothing.
Unable to contain my curiosity, I put my ice cream down, and get up from the couch. As I tiptoe through the designer living room and make my way into the marble entry hall with its thick, crimson runner, I keep my ears open for any sounds coming from upstairs, but there are none. I climb the marble staircase on velvet feet, passing my own bedroom on the second floor, and continue up until, for the first time since I moved in, I’m standing on top floor landing. Yes, the mansion has three stories. And yes, I’ve never been up here before because there was no reason for my presence. But now, I’m curious, so I’m going to do some illicit snooping.
As I creep closer to the door of Brad’s home office, I see it’s ajar. I should really turn around now and abandon this madness. These are Brad’s private quarters, and again, there’s always been an unspoken rule that I’m not allowed up here. But before I fully comprehend what I’m doing, my feet are carrying me towards the office, and I can see there’s a light on inside the room, along with a movement of shadows beneath the door. Brad is definitely in.
Then my heart skips a beat when I start to hear a low, rumbling sound. Rhythmic, even. I creep closer and the sound becomes clearer. It’s panting—male panting. No…. it’smoaning. And I recognize the voice because it’s Brad, grunting in his low, baritone voice. Holy cow, is he having sex with someone? My ears strain but I can’t hear a woman’s voice, or anything except for the slap of flesh, for that matter. Maybe he’s masturbating? The thought makes my body run hot, and I can’t help but peer into the crack of the door.
The sight I’m met with literally takes my breath away. Brad is fully dressed, but his huge cock is sticking out of his open pants as he fucks his desk. No, not his desk. He’s fucking somethingonthe desk. I slide a little to my left and nudge the door open just an extra inch, and I see that the thing he’s fucking is some kind of sex toy shaped like a woman’s ass. Holy cow, I had no idea these things really existed!
Yet, it’s true because Brad’s enormous girth is almost splitting the toy in half as he rams his cock in and out of the ludicrously tiny pretend pussy, his huge, tight balls hitting the desk underneath. Both his spade-like hands tightly grip the toy’s silicone ass cheeks as he rides the plastic ass, his eyes closed as he throws his head back. His moan is guttural, almost stifled. He bites his lip in ecstasy as he quickens his pace, and I realize the alpha male’s trying to be quiet. But why? This is his kingdom, so there’s no reason to hide.
My throat is dry, and my pussy so wet I can feel my labia slide together as I carefully maneuver even more to the left so I can get a better view. That’s when I see several other toys strewn about the office. Holy smokes, what the hell is going on? I had no idea my mom’s ex was such a horny pervert. But indeed, there are a couple of full-sized sex dolls with pouting faces and huge tits lounging about, dressed in sexy lingerie that leaves their big breasts and nether regions exposed. Others are half bodies with just tits and asses, and there’s even one that’s just a long tube. Is this guy for real?
Yet it’s arousing too. The toys are a soft peachy-pink color, and the women are quite lifelike. Of course, their faces are contorted in weird expressions because the eyes are too big, and the mouths posed in eternally open “O’s.” But still, they’re sexy with their big busts, tiny waists, and spread legs. Even crazier, all of the toys in this room have something in common: each of their holes is glistening with semen.Brad’ssemen. How long has he been at this? How many dolls does it take to satisfy him?
To my shame, my private parts gush hotly, and I watch with avid eyes as Brad continues his rhythmic rocking.
“Fuck,” he bites out as he continues to ram his rod hard into the pretend pussy. I realize I’m about to see him come. I swallow in anticipation as my pussy clenches in arousal. He pulls back a moment and grips his cock at the opening of the glistening, minuscule vulva, and I realize he’s edging. “Shit,” he groans again. “Fuck!” The veins in his cock bulge as it twitches impatiently, straining towards completion. Then he slowly parts the pretend labia with the angry, throbbing head of his cock and pushes it all the way into the toy.
“Mmmmmhhhh,” he grunts as his balls squeeze upwards and I see his cock pump its load into the silicone pussy. To my surprise, semen comes squirting out of the toy’s pretend asshole, in great ropes of glistening white. I suppose this is a manufacturing design that’s a part of some kind of fantasy?
“Mmmmh,” Brad grunts again as he continues to orgasm, his semen now gushing out of the tip of the toy as well. Then he holds still, panting and sighing in satisfaction, and I know I have to get out of here before he sees me. If Brad catches me up here, I’m sure he’ll kick me out. And since I’ve now graduated high school, he’d be well within his right to. Even more, I don’t want to be forced to leave because things have just started to getinteresting.
2
Chrissy
Ifeel tired today. After what I witnessed last night, I couldn’t sleep. I kept thinking about how hot it was to watch Brad fuck that toy, and as I played with myself, I imagined what it would be like if he did to my pussy what he did to the pretend pussy on his desk. Even after I counted to a thousand in my mind, I still couldn’t calm down. Instead, I tossed and turned all night as I fantasized about Brad’s enormous cock, hearing his deep moans echoing through my head. I woke up feeling exhausted and horny, but work doesn’t wait for anyone. Even worse, today is delivery day, which means plenty of physical labor as I haul boxes and restock shelves at Mickey’s Beauty Supply.
But as I arrange a set of eye shadow pallets on the center aisle display, I’m actually glad it’s delivery day because it means I don’t need to do too much customer-facing work. That would have entailed energy of a different kind, which I don’t have today. Instead, I can sort of just live in my head as I go through the repetitive task of opening boxes, emptying them, and flattening them for recycling. Meanwhile, I replay the images of Brad in my head – specifically, images of Mom’s ex with his sex toys.
It still feels a little dirty to have watched Brad like that, even though Janice broke up with him several months ago. And I also feel a bit bad that I spied on Brad because I’ve never even been up to the top floor before. But just as remorse sets over me, my phone buzzes slightly at my hip.
Hmmm, what’s going on? Brad’s house has a security camera installed facing the front door, which is hooked up to an app on my phone. It’s useful because I can see delivery people come and go, leaving packages at our doorstep. If any thieves come by, they’ll be recorded. But then, I’m jolted from my reverie.
