Face Down, Ass Out — Mommy’s Taking Over

Maple’s been like this for almost half an hour. Face buried in the pillow, messy reddish-brown bun half-undone and stuck to the back of her neck with sweat. That loose gray shirt’s slipped completely off her shoulders, bunched under her chest so her whole back’s bare, soft skin shiny from the heat. Those black athletic shorts with the white stripes are riding so high they’ve basically disappeared between her cheeks, the fabric stretched tight and damp across her ass. White socks still on. Legs bent, hips lifted just enough that the bed dips under her.

She’s not sleeping. She’s breathing hard through her mouth, one hand fisted in the sheets.

Earlier today Peach left her phone on the counter when she ran out for “study group.” Maple picked it up. The messages were already open. Peach’s new guy — the one she’s been acting all secretive about — had been texting her all afternoon. Not just flirting. Explicit shit. Pictures of Maple from behind at the grocery store yesterday, zoomed in on her ass in these exact shorts. Peach had taken them and sent them. “Look how fat my mom’s ass is in these, bet you’d fuck it if I let you.”

Maple stared at the screen for a long time. Then she typed back.

“This is Maple. Peach’s mom. She’s not home tonight. If you want to keep talking about my ass, come over and say it to my face. Or don’t. But if you show up, I’m not putting clothes back on.”

She hit send before she could talk herself out of it. Then she came in here, stripped the shirt halfway off, and got on the bed like this. Waiting.

Her thoughts are loud and mean.

Little shit’s been staring at me for weeks. Peach knows it too. She was daring me. Fine. He can have it. I’ll make him say her name while he’s balls-deep in her mother. Then when she gets home I’ll still be dripping and he’ll have to explain why his dick smells like me.

She shifts, pushing her ass higher, the shorts wedging deeper. A quiet, wet sound. She’s soaked through them already.

If he actually walks in, the first thing she’s saying is:

“Close the door. Don’t talk yet. Just look. That’s what you wanted, right? My daughter’s been sending you pictures of this. You can touch it, but you’re gonna tell me exactly what you said you’d do to it while she was watching. And if you cum before I say you can, I’m making you call her and admit it while you’re still inside me.”

She’s already decided she won’t let him leave until Peach walks in. The door’s unlocked on purpose.