The Saturday Pact
Copyright© 2026 by RedBow
Chapter 6: The Conspiracy
Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 6: The Conspiracy - In a quiet Midwestern suburb, five divorced/widowed friends make a shocking pact to shatter their loneliness. Each will 'educate' the others' teenage sons in the art of intimacy over five illicit Saturday nights. But their carefully orchestrated scheme of secret rooms and rotating lessons soon ignites passions and jealousies they never anticipated, threatening to unravel their friendships and expose their darkest desires.
Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Fa/Fa Heterosexual Mother Son Anal Sex Oral Sex Safe Sex Sex Toys AI Generated
The Seed of Treason
The quiet hum of Linda’s home office was broken by the sound of her son’s heavy footsteps coming down the hall. She took a steadying breath, her notepad ready. “Jason,” she called out, her voice carefully neutral. “Do you have a moment?”
Jason poked his head in, looking relaxed. “Yeah, what’s up, Mom?”
“The feedback for last Saturday,” she said, gesturing for him to sit. “Your session with Chloe. The scores.”
“Oh, right.” He slid into the chair across from her desk. “Yeah, it was great.”
Linda poised her pen. “Technical score?”
“A five. Easy.”
“Enjoyment?”
“A five.” He said it with a finality that brooked no argument.
Linda put her pen down, leaning forward slightly. “Jason, that’s a perfect score. Again. Your feedback is incredibly important to me. Can you ... elaborate? What specifically did she do that warranted a perfect rating?”
Jason shifted uncomfortably, a faint blush creeping up his neck. “Mom, come on. I thought we weren’t supposed to talk about what happens in the room with ... other people. It’s private.”
“I’m not other people, Jason,” Linda said, a edge of frustration sharpening her tone. “I need to understand the metrics for success. Was it a specific technique? The pacing? Help me understand what it was that she did to make you enjoy it so much.”
“It was just ... everything,” he said, shrugging, clearly wanting the conversation to end. “It felt real. It wasn’t like a ... lesson. It was just ... good.” He stood up, unable to meet her analytical gaze. “It was a ten, okay? That’s all I can say.”
He left the room quickly, leaving Linda alone with the infuriatingly perfect “10” written on her pad and a churning sense of inadequacy. He was following the pact’s rules too well, using their own secrecy against her. She was being denied the data she craved, the key to replicating Chloe’s success. This wasn’t just about competition anymore; it was about a lack of control. Chloe possessed an intangible quality that Linda’s spreadsheets and strategies couldn’t quantify.
She picked up her phone and scrolled to Carol’s number. Carol wouldn’t care about the rules. Carol would understand the sheer gall of being locked out of the secret.
“Carol. We need to talk. Not here. The usual place. Half an hour.” Her voice was tight.
Thirty minutes later, Linda sat stirring her latte in a quiet corner booth of the café. Carol slid in opposite her, her expression a mix of curiosity and impatience.
“What’s so urgent that it couldn’t wait?” Carol asked, not bothering with a greeting.
“It’s Chloe,” Linda said, her voice low. “She got another ten. From Jason.”
Carol’s eyes widened, then narrowed. “Another one? Seriously? What is she, a sex wizard?”
“That’s the problem. I don’t know.” Linda’s frustration boiled over. “Jason gave her a perfect score but refused to elaborate. Hid behind the ‘what happens in the room’ rule. I have no data. No actionable intelligence.”
“So she’s not just good, she’s got them sworn to secrecy now?” Carol’s voice rose in indignation.
“Keep your voice down,” Linda hissed, glancing around the nearly empty café. She leaned in closer. “Don’t you see? It’s bad for the group. Her dominance is creating an information blackout. The boys are becoming ... loyal to her methodology. It undermines the entire educational premise. How can we improve if we don’t know what ‘perfect’ looks like?”
Carol leaned back, a slow, calculating smile spreading across her face as she absorbed Linda’s twisted logic. “So the problem isn’t that she’s winning ... it’s that she’s winning too well. She’s breaking the game.”
“Precisely,” Linda said, her own justification solidifying. “The pact is becoming the ‘Chloe Chapman Show.’ It’s predictable. It’s stifling competition. And it’s hindering our ability to properly assess and refine our own techniques.”
“So what’s the solution?” Carol asked, her eyes gleaming. “We can’t exactly ask her for a demonstration.”
Linda’s expression was cold and determined. “The lottery is tonight. The rotations are designed to be fair. But sometimes, fairness needs a ... nudge. For the greater good. We introduce a variable. A challenge that goes beyond technique. Something that tests a different kind of metric.”
“You mean we rig it,” Carol said, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper.
“We ensure the draw presents a scenario that will truly test our reigning champion,” Linda stated, her words precise. “A fundamental boundary.”
Carol’s smile was venomous and delighted. “Leo.”
Linda gave a single, sharp nod. “The one pairing that is off-limits. The ultimate test of her commitment to the pact’s rules versus her own personal boundaries.”
“She’ll refuse,” Carol breathed, her mind racing. “She’ll have to. And if she refuses, she’s out. The playing field is leveled.”
“Or,” Linda countered, a flicker of something like clinical admiration in her eyes, “she’ll accept. And if she can score a ten under those circumstances ... then we’ll finally have our data point. We’ll know what we’re truly up against.”
It was a perfect, selfish rationale wrapped in the language of group benefit. The treason was sealed not with a handshake, but with a shared understanding. Linda, the guardian of order, had decided that chaos was the only path to victory.
The Score Reveal
The air in Linda’s living room on Saturday evening was thick with a palpable, nervous energy. The women stood rather than sat, their glasses of wine a poor shield against the anticipation of judgment. Linda, playing the part of the calm hostess, stood by the fireplace, her notepad in hand. Carol lurked near the liquor cabinet, her eyes flicking around the room with predatory interest.
“Alright, ladies,” Linda began, her voice cutting through the quiet chatter. “The scores from last Saturday. Let’s hear them.” She deliberately turned to Maria first, a gesture meant to either ripen the suspense or offer a mercifully quick end to it. “Maria. You received Mark’s score for Carol.”
Maria, who had spent the week steeling herself, took a steadying breath. “My son, Mark, gave Carol a nine. Technical five, Enjoyment four.”
A respectful murmur circled the room. A nine was a strong score. Carol accepted it with a sharp, confident nod, her eyes briefly meeting Linda’s. See? I’m a contender.
“Carol,” Linda said, her gaze shifting. “Your son’s score.” Carol’s eyes locked on Maria, her expression a mask of faux sympathy. “My son, Noah, gave Maria a four.” She let the number hang in the stunned silence. “Technical two, Enjoyment two.”
A collective, sharp intake of breath sucked the air from the room. A four. It was worse than any of them had dared to imagine. All eyes, wide with a mixture of shock and pity, locked on Maria. But Maria didn’t crumble. She had known this was coming. She met their gazes, her chin held a little higher than anyone expected.
“Chloe,” Linda continued, her voice softening slightly. “Your son’s score for Anjali.” Chloe, who had been observing the dynamics with a serene calm, reported evenly. “Leo gave Anjali a nine. Technical five, Enjoyment four.”
Anjali gave a slight, satisfied nod.
“Anjali,” Linda said, turning to her. “Your son’s score for me.” Anjali consulted her mental notes. “Ben gave you a nine. Technical four, Enjoyment five.”
Linda absorbed the news with a professional nod. Another nine. Solid, but not the top. The hierarchy was becoming clear, and it was grating on her.
“And I,” Linda finished, forcing a smile, “received Jason’s score for Chloe.” She paused for effect, her eyes briefly flicking to Carol. “He gave her a ten. A perfect score. Technical five, Enjoyment five.”
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