Chapter 11: Laundry Room & Full Anal

We barely made it down the short hallway before the laundry-room door clicked shut behind us. Dad’s voice drifted from the garage—muffled by the TV he’d turned up loud while he tinkered with the lawn mower, some sports recap booming through the thin wall. The sound covered our hurried footsteps perfectly. Laura didn’t waste a second. She spun me around, pushed my back against the closed door, and kissed me hard, her tongue sliding against mine with the taste of her own slickness still lingering from the kitchen. Her skirt was already hiked to her waist, bare pussy glistening under the single overhead bulb.

“Mommy’s been dripping since dinner,” she breathed against my mouth, hand sliding down to squeeze my cock through my jeans. “And now you’re going to take my ass for the very first time—right here, while he’s ten feet away.” Her eyes locked on mine, dark with that mix of hunger and trust that always made my stomach flip. She stepped back, turned, and bent forward over the running dryer, bracing her palms on the warm metal top. The machine hummed softly from the last load, its heat radiating up into her skin. Her ass lifted high, toned runner’s cheeks spreading just enough to show the tight pink ring between them, still slightly slick from the two quick orgasms under the counter.

I dropped to my knees behind her, heart slamming so hard it drowned out the TV. The lube bottle was already on the folding table—she must have stashed it there earlier. I coated my fingers thick, the cool gel generous and slippery, then pressed one against her back entrance. She pushed back immediately, breathing steady and slow. “One first, baby ... just like last week, but deeper this time. Mommy’s ready for you.” The ring yielded with a soft, wet give, heat clamping around my finger in a velvet vise. I worked it gently, curling, scissoring, adding more lube until she was rocking back onto my hand with tiny, needy sounds muffled against her forearm.

“Two now,” she whispered, voice thick. “Stretch Mommy open ... slow and loving, just like you promised.” I added the second finger, the lube making everything glide obscenely. Her thighs trembled, powerful muscles flexing as she adjusted to the stretch. I could feel her pussy fluttering empty below, dripping down her inner thighs onto the laundry-room floor. The dryer’s warmth kissed her skin; the garage TV blared louder as Dad laughed at something on screen. Every second felt razor-sharp—his footsteps could cross the hallway any moment.