Chapter 5: The anal sex
The Victorian house loomed behind a screen of ancient, gnarled oaks, its gingerbread trim peeling like sunburnt skin. Jenny followed Mark up the creaking porch steps, her stomach a tight knot. John walked beside her, his hand a warm, oblivious weight in hers.
The inside was a museum of faded grandeur. A grandfather clock ticked like a slow heartbeat in the hallway, and the air smelled of lemon polish and old books. Mark’s mother, Sarah, emerged from the kitchen, wiping her hands on an apron. She was a handsome woman in her late forties, with Mark’s same confident eyes and a smile that didn’t quite reach them.
“There you are,” she said, pulling Mark into a brief hug before turning to Jenny and John. “Jenny, it’s so good to see you again.” Her gaze was a little too knowing, and Jenny felt a hot flush creep up her neck, remembering the last time Sarah had seen her, on her knees before her son.
Lunch was a strained affair in the formal dining room under the watchful eyes of somber portraits. Mark’s father, a quiet man named Robert, asked John polite questions about his work. Sarah kept the conversation flowing, but her eyes kept flicking back to Jenny, a subtle appraisal that made the girl’s skin prickle.
“So, Jenny,” Sarah said, passing her a bowl of roasted potatoes. “Mark says you’ve been spending a lot of time at the condo.”
Jenny nearly choked on her water. “Oh. Yes. It’s… convenient.”
“I’m sure it is,” Sarah replied, her tone light but her meaning heavy. John, busy cutting his meat, just nodded.
After dessert, Robert retired to his study and John’s phone buzzed. “Shit, work again,” he muttered, standing up. “Mark, you mind giving me a lift? My car’s in the shop.”
“Yeah, whatever,” Mark said, pushing his chair back. He leaned close to Jenny as he passed, his breath hot on her ear. “Be good for Mom.” The words were a threat and a promise.
The front door closed, leaving Jenny alone in the vast, silent house with Sarah. The tick of the grandfather clock was deafening.
“Let’s have some tea in the sunroom,” Sarah said, already moving. “It’s less… oppressive in there.”
The sunroom was a glass-paned addition at the back of the house, filled with lush, green plants and the humid scent of damp earth. They sat on a wicker sofa, a pot of Earl Grey between them on a low table. For a few minutes, they made stilted small talk about the garden. Then Sarah set her cup down with a definitive click.
“We can stop pretending, Jenny,” she said, her voice dropping its polite cadence. “I know what my son is like. I know what goes on in that condo.”
Jenny’s heart hammered against her ribs. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Don’t you?” Sarah’s smile was thin. “I heard you this morning. On the kitchen table. The whole house heard you.” She let the statement hang in the humid air. “I also remember walking in on you two in his bedroom last year. You haven’t lost your… enthusiasm.”
Shame burned through Jenny, so acute it felt like a physical blow. She looked down at her hands, clenched in her lap.
“Look at me,” Sarah commanded, her voice soft but firm. When Jenny reluctantly met her gaze, Sarah’s expression was not one of judgment, but of intense curiosity. “What is it like? With him. Tell me.”
“I… I can’t,” Jenny whispered.
“You can. And you will.” Sarah shifted closer, the wicker creaking. “I’ve been married to a quiet man for twenty years. I cook his meals, I keep his house, I listen to him talk about his golf game. My son, however… Mark takes after his uncle. My brother. He was the same way. A force of nature.” Her eyes grew distant, hungry. “I need to know what it feels like. I live through him. So tell me.”
The confession, so raw and unexpected, broke something open in Jenny. The words started to spill out, halting at first, then in a torrent. “He’s… rough. He doesn’t ask. He just takes. He fills me up completely, it almost hurts, but then…” She swallowed, her mouth dry. “He knows how to make my body do things I don’t even understand. He makes me come so hard I see stars. He makes me suck his cock until I can’t breathe and I love it. He comes so much, it’s… it’s everywhere.”
He comes so much, it’s… it’s everywhere.”
Sarah’s eyes darkened with a visceral hunger, her nostrils flaring slightly. She leaned in, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “I did see you a few days ago,” she confessed, her gaze locked on Jenny’s. “In the kitchen. Did you suck him and swallow his cum?”
Jenny could only nod, her throat tight.
“I told you it was a great thing,” Sarah said, her hand moving to rest on Jenny’s knee, the touch proprietary. “But you too must try anal sex.”
Jenny was in shock, her mind reeling. The world tilted, the humid air of the sunroom suddenly suffocating.
Sarah seen Jenny’s face, pale and stunned, and pressed her advantage. “He did it a lot with previous girls,” she continued, her voice smooth as silk. “And it is good. The man can cum inside, deep inside, and you feel so… full.” Her fingers tightened on Jenny’s knee. “Also, I did in these days anal sex, but not with my husband.” She paused, letting the implication hang thick in the air. “I have a lover.”
The confession hung between them, a forbidden truth that shattered the last pretense of a normal conversation. Jenny stared at the older woman, at the fierce need in her eyes, and felt a terrifying understanding dawn. This was a confession, but it was also an initiation.
“He’s younger,” Sarah whispered, her thumb now tracing slow circles on Jenny’s leg. “Very demanding. He prefers it that way, says my ass is tighter than a virgin’s cunt.” She smiled, a predatory flash of teeth. “He’s not wrong.”
Jenny’s breath hitched. She could feel the heat radiating from Sarah’s hand through the thin fabric of her dress. The image of Mark, of his thickness, forcing into that most forbidden place, mixed with the shocking vision of Sarah being taken by a stranger.
“You’re curious,” Sarah stated, not asking. She moved her hand higher, up Jenny’s thigh. “I can see it. That little flutter in your pulse. Fear and wanting, all twisted together. That’s where the real power is, Jenny. When you give him that.” Her fingers stopped just short of the damp heat between Jenny’s legs. “When you let him own every part of you.”
Jenny didn’t pull away. She was paralyzed, trapped by the shocking intimacy and her own traitorous body, which was responding to the graphic words and the commanding touch. The grandfather clock in the hall chimed the hour, its deep tone a funeral knell for her old self.
Sarah stood, pulling Jenny up with her by the hand. “Come,” she said, her voice firm. She led the stunned girl out of the sunroom and up the grand, creaking staircase, away from the safe, mundane world of the lunch table and into the shadows of the upper floor.
Sarah’s bedroom was a sanctuary of deep blues and dark wood, a stark contrast to the faded grandeur of the rest of the house. She closed the door, the click of the lock echoing like a gunshot in the quiet. Without a word, she picked up her phone from the nightstand, her fingers dancing across the screen.
“It’s me. Get over here. Now.” She listened for a beat, a slow smile spreading across her face. “Ten minutes. Use the side door.” She ended the call and tossed the phone onto the bed, turning to Jenny. “He’s eager. They’re always so eager.”
Jenny stood frozen by the door, her mind a whirlwind of John’s trusting face and the memory of Mark’s cock in her mouth that morning. The humid scent of the sunroom still clung to her, mixed now with Sarah’s perfume, something heavy and floral. “We shouldn’t,” she whispered, but the protest was weak, hollow.
“You’ve already crossed every line there is, dear,” Sarah said, her voice cool and analytical as she unbuttoned her blouse. “Sucking my son on my kitchen table? Letting his friend eat your pussy? This is just the next page.” She let the blouse fall to the floor, revealing a black lace bra that strained over full breasts. “Consider it an education.”
The wait was a taut, silent wire stretched between them. Sarah sat on the edge of the bed, calmly applying a dark shade of lipstick, while Jenny listened to the old house settle, every creak a potential footstep. Then, a distinct click came from downstairs, followed by the sound of heavy, confident steps on the stairs.
The bedroom door opened and the man filled the frame. He was tall, well over six feet, with broad shoulders and a lean, athletic build. His eyes, a cold gray, scanned the room and landed on Jenny, appraising her with a detached hunger that made her shiver. He didn’t speak, simply unzipped his jeans.
He pushed them down his hips, and his cock sprang out, thick and already fully erect. It was a brutal-looking thing, easily 20 centimeters long and veined, the head a dark, ruddy purple. Sarah made a low, appreciative sound in her throat. “See, Jenny? A real man. Not a boy.”
She moved towards him, dropping to her knees without hesitation. She took the entire length into her mouth in one smooth, practiced motion, her lips stretching obscenely around the girth. Jenny watched, hypnotized, as Sarah’s head bobbed fiercely, the sounds wet and gagging. She deep-throated him with a skill that made Jenny’s own efforts seem clumsy and amateurish.
“That’s it, you filthy whore,” the man grunted, his hands tangling in Sarah’s hair, controlling her rhythm. “Suck that dick. Get it nice and slick for your ass.” His eyes never left Jenny’s face, challenging her, including her.
After a minute, he pulled Sarah to her feet by her hair and bent her over the foot of the bed. He spat onto his fingers and rubbed the saliva roughly between her ass cheeks. Sarah braced herself, pushing her hips back in open invitation. “Fuck me,” she demanded, her voice ragged. “Don’t be gentle.”
He guided the broad head of his cock to her tight hole and pushed. Sarah let out a sharp, strangled cry as he breached her, her knuckles turning white where she gripped the duvet. He didn’t pause, sinking his entire length into her in one relentless, brutal thrust.
“Oh god, yes!” Sarah screamed, her body jolting forward. “It’s so deep!”
He set a punishing pace, each slam of his hips driving a gasp from her lungs. The bedframe knocked against the wall with a steady, rhythmic bang. He reached around and pinched her nipples hard through the lace of her bra, his other hand smacking her ass, leaving a red handprint on her pale skin.
“You like that, you dirty slut?” he growled, pounding into her. “You like having your ass stretched open?”
“Yes! I love it!” Sarah shrieked, her composure utterly shattered. “I love your big cock in my ass! Make her watch! Make the little bitch see how a real woman takes it!”
He looked over at Jenny, his expression a mask of carnal triumph. His thrusts became shorter, harder, more frantic. With a final, guttural roar, he slammed home and held, his body rigid as he emptied himself inside her. Sarah convulsed around him, her own climax a raw, screaming thing that seemed to tear itself from her soul.
He pulled out, his cock glistening and slick, and a trickle of his cum leaked down Sarah’s thigh. She collapsed onto the bed, breathing in ragged sobs. The man tucked his softening cock back into his jeans, zipped up, and left without a single word, his footsteps receding down the stairs.
The room was silent except for Sarah’s panting. She slowly pushed herself up, her face flushed and triumphant. She looked at Jenny, who was still pressed against the door, her own body aching with a confused, shameful arousal.
“Your turn,” Sarah said, her voice hoarse. “Get on the bed.”
Sarah’s command sliced through the humid air, her eyes burning with a possessive fire that left no room for refusal. Jenny’s breath hitched, her body trembling as she took a hesitant step toward the bed, the memory of the man’s brutal penetration still vivid in her mind. The sheets were damp and smelled of sex, a stark reminder of what was expected of her.
“Now,” Sarah hissed, grabbing Jenny’s wrist and pulling her closer, her fingers digging into the soft skin. Jenny’s dress was rucked up, exposing her thighs, and she could feel the older woman’s heat radiating through the thin fabric. Sarah’s other hand moved to the back of Jenny’s head, forcing her down toward the mattress.
Jenny’s knees hit the edge of the bed, her heart hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird. She glanced at the door, a silent plea for escape, but Sarah’s grip was iron. “You wanted this,” Sarah murmured, her lips brushing Jenny’s ear. “You’ve been craving it since you first sucked my son’s cock on my kitchen table.”
The phone’s ring was a violent shriek that shattered the moment, its insistent trill echoing off the walls. Sarah froze, her body tensing with irritation, then released Jenny with a frustrated curse. She snatched the receiver from the nightstand, her voice sharp. “What?”
Jenny stumbled back, her legs weak, as Sarah listened, her expression shifting from annoyance to urgency. “Where? … How bad?” Sarah’s eyes flicked to Jenny, then away. “Fine. We’re on our way.” She slammed the phone down. “That was Mark. John’s had an accident at work—some machinery mishap. They’re at the emergency clinic. Mark’s outside; he needs to take you now.”
Relief washed over Jenny in a cold wave, mingling with a gnawing guilt that tightened her stomach. She straightened her dress with shaking hands, the fabric clinging to her sweat-slicked skin. Sarah waved her toward the door, her demeanor all business now. “Go. Don’t keep him waiting.”
Jenny fled the room, her footsteps echoing on the creaking stairs, the grandfather clock’s tick a mocking countdown. She burst out the front door into the cool evening air, finding Mark’s car idling at the curb. He leaned over and pushed the passenger door open, his face grim. “Get in,” he said, his voice rough.
She slid into the seat, the familiar scents of old fast food and vinyl wrapping around her like a shield. Mark pulled away without another word, the tires crunching on the gravel driveway. Jenny watched the Victorian house shrink in the side mirror, its darkened windows hiding secrets that now felt both terrifying and irresistible.