Chapter 1: Meeting Maddison

Sam’s sheets were damp with sweat when he woke. The digital clock read 8:17 AM, but his body felt like it hadn’t slept at all. Every time he’d closed his eyes, he’d seen it again—Emily’s lips stretched around Jake’s cock, the way her throat had worked and finally his cum on her face.

Downstairs, the clatter of dishes and his mother’s voice pulled him fully awake. “Sam! Pancakes are getting cold!”

He dressed quickly, pausing only to open his laptop and check the feed. The black-and-white image showed an empty bedroom next door, rumpled sheets still twisted from last night’s activities. He minimized the window but left it running.

The kitchen smelled of maple syrup and coffee. His parents sat at the table, already deep in conversation about the neighborhood. Sam slid into his seat and poured orange juice, letting their words wash over him as he mechanically cut his pancakes.

“You’ll love the high school,” his mother was saying. “They have an excellent robotics team.”

Sam nodded, his mind still next door. He wondered if Emily was awake yet, if she’d washed Jake’s cum off her face before going to sleep. The thought made his cock twitch.

When his father started discussing garbage pickup schedules, Sam saw his chance. “I’m gonna go unpack some more boxes,” he said, leaving half his breakfast untouched.

Back in his room, he locked the door and returned to the feed. The camera view had changed—now it showed the kitchen next door. Emily sat at the table in shorts and a tank top, pushing scrambled eggs around her plate. Her hair was pulled into a messy bun, dark circles under her eyes.

A woman entered the frame—Emily’s mother Madison. Even through the grainy footage, she was striking. Blonde hair cascading over bare shoulders, a silk robe tied loosely enough to reveal generous cleavage. Her breasts were impossible to ignore—perfectly round, suspiciously firm, the kind that defied both gravity and middle age. They strained against the thin silk with every breath, the outline of erect nipples clearly visible where the fabric caught against them. The kind of body that whispered “expensive maintenance”—the surgical kind that came with a five-figure price tag and required regular tune-ups.