Chapter 5: What Parents Do

Lilly’s feet moved before her brain could stop them.

The first gloryhole door still hung open behind her, the librarian’s wet sounds fading as she crept down the red-lit hallway. Another door. Another crack of light. Another gap just wide enough to see through.

Her palm pressed flat against the wall to steady herself.

She leaned in.

And the world stopped.

Her mother was on her knees.

The yellow fabric crumpled at the edge of Lilly’s vision, but she couldn’t look at it. She couldn’t look away from what was in front of her.

A soft, wet sound. A low, humming moan that vibrated through the walls.

Her mother’s shoulders moved. Back and forth. A rhythm Lilly had never seen. Her hair, always pinned, always perfect, swung loose and dark, obscuring everything except the bob of her head and the faint, glistening trail of something catching the dim light as she pulled back.

A thick, muffled gasp from the other side of the wall.

Lilly’s stomach lurched. Her fingers dug into the doorframe. She could smell it now, the sharp, clean latex, the faint salt of sweat, the perfumed conditioner in her mother’s hair. The air was thick and warm, clinging to her skin.

Another wet slide. Her mother’s throat worked. A soft, choking sound that became a swallow.

Lilly’s knees went weak.

Lilly’s stomach turned inside out.

Her mother’s hands gripped the stranger’s shaft at the base, guiding the length between her lips with a practiced ease that made Lilly’s vision blur at the edges. The stranger’s cock was long, veined, the condom stretched tight over the swollen head as it disappeared into her mother’s throat. A low, guttural moan came from the other side of the wall, the stranger, whoever he was, his hands probably fisted in her mother’s hair, his hips beginning to rock forward in a slow, demanding rhythm.

Lilly’s stomach clenched, a hot, sick twist that rose up her throat and left a bitter taste on her tongue. This is wrong. This is so wrong. But her eyes wouldn’t close. They were glued to the slick, rhythmic motion, the way her mother’s throat bulged with each deep thrust. A wave of nausea washed over her, so potent she had to swallow hard to keep from gagging.

Then, underneath the sickness, something else stirred. A low, humming heat that pooled deep in her belly, an unwelcome, forbidden warmth that spread between her thighs. She watched, horrified and captivated, as her mother’s head bobbed, a slave to the stranger’s pleasure. A dark, curious part of Lilly wondered what it felt like to have that much power, to give that much of yourself. The thought made her cunt clench, and she hated herself for it. Her breath hitched, a ragged, broken sound that she prayed no one could hear over the wet, obscene slurping from the room.

But that wasn’t all.

Behind her mother, crouched low, his knees pressed into the sticky carpet, was her father.

He was naked too. His belt unbuckled. His shirt unbuttoned and hanging open. His cock stood hard and bare, jutting out from his body, glistening with something that caught the dim red light. Lubricant. Or maybe something else. He was positioned directly behind her mother, one hand gripping her hip, the other wrapped around the base of his shaft, guiding it toward her exposed pussy.

Lilly couldn’t see the full detail from the crack, just angles, just fragments, but she saw enough. Her father’s cock nudged against her mother’s wet folds, the head parting them, pressing forward with a slow, deliberate pressure that made her mother’s entire body tense. A muffled whimper escaped around the stranger’s cock still buried in her throat.

Her father’s face was a mask of concentration. His jaw tight. His eyes fixed on the point where his body was about to enter his wife’s. He pulled his hips back an inch, then pushed forward again, testing, teasing, the slick sound of it carrying through the cramped booth.

Lilly’s hand flew to her mouth.

She couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t blink. Her body was frozen, locked in place by a shock so total it felt like she’d been injected with cement. But beneath the shock, something else stirred, a warm, pulsing ache that spread from her chest to her belly to the space between her thighs, where her jeans suddenly felt too tight, too rough against her skin.

Her mother’s cheeks hollowed as she sucked. The stranger’s hips began to move faster, a steady fucking rhythm now, his cock sliding in and out of her mother’s throat with wet, obscene sounds. A string of drool hung from her mother’s chin, catching the light, stretching and snapping as the pace increased.