Dave caught me as I was heading out, dangling a spare key between two fingers like bait. He had that grin, the one that meant he needed something.

“New job’s sending me out of town for a week,” he said, pressing the key into my palm before I could respond. “Just swing by daily, feed Finn, and, you know, handle the litter box.”

I shook my head. “Sure,” I muttered, taking the key from him and slipping it into my pocket.

No big deal, I told myself. Feed the cat, scoop some litter, crack open one of his beers, and leave. Simple.

Dave clapped me on the shoulder, already half-turned toward his car, confident his tabby was in good hands. I watched him go, not yet knowing what that week would cost me.

For the first couple of days, I stuck to the routine: fill Finn’s bowl, clean the litter box, and give him a quick chin scratch. By day three, the apartment’s quiet had started to feel less peaceful and more like pressure.

Finn was already fast asleep on the couch, curled up and completely unbothered.

A few minutes later I stood up, needing to take a leak. As I walked down the short hallway toward the bathroom, I was just about to pass Dave’s bedroom when I noticed his gaming PC tower. Its RGB lights pulsing softly in the dim room — red, blue, and purple glows shifting across the walls.

The humming of the machine seemed louder in the quiet house. I told myself I’ll just browse for five minutes after I take a leak.

Once I was done using the bathroom, I stepped inside, dropped into his gamer chair, and shook the mouse to wake the system.

It didn’t take long before I was clicking through his history and trying not to laugh at what I found. But the longer I sat there, the more the machine felt like an invitation, an invitation to peek.

I don’t know why but I felt like Dave was hiding something on his PC. I could feel it. Call it a hunch.

I started sorting through folders the way you do when you’re not really looking for anything, opening one labeled “Tax Returns,” another stuffed with work documents, a third full of saved emails he’d never replied to. The kind of digital clutter everyone has and no one organizes.

I was about to give up and find something better to do until I came across one tucked into a subdirectory, simply labeled “Personal.” Inside was another folder titled “Dream Girl.”

That name made me pause, curious more than anything else. I clicked it open and found two more folders inside: “Pics” and “Videos.” My pulse quickened, not out of alarm but out of interest; clearly, I stumbled on something for Dave’s eyes only.

A part of me knew I should leave well enough alone. Close the folder. Get up and go straight home.

But my curiosity was burning too hot to ignore.

I clicked on the folder labeled “Images” first. At least a hundred files spilled across the screen, all randomly numbered: DSC4782, IMG0291, no names, no dates, nothing to warn me. Just a sea of thumbnails waiting for me to check out.

It didn’t matter. I already knew I was going to open every single one.

My finger hovered over the mouse for half a second ... then I double-clicked the first picture.

The screen filled with a close-up of a woman’s full, heavy breasts. They were pale and creamy, easily DD-cups or more, with that soft, natural hang that only mature tits possess. A pair of strong hands, unmistakably Dave’s, were cupping the undersides, lifting and squeezing them together so they spilled forward in a deep, mouth-watering cleavage. Her bumpy, wide areolas were dark pink and glistening with thick saliva, her fat nipples swollen and stiff like they’d been sucked hard for a long time.

My cock twitched hard in my jeans, thickening rapidly against the fabric. I had to spread my legs wider just to give my heavy balls some room to breathe.

I guess it was the shock of seeing something so private and unexpected. Damn, Dave’s been holding out on me. Why the hell hadn’t he told me about this new girl.

I clicked the next one.

This time it was a tight shot of her pussy, covered by a pair of soaked pink panties pulled viciously taut. The thin fabric molded perfectly to every swollen fold, creating a deep camel toe. Her outer labia were plump and puffy, clearly visible through the material, and a dark wet spot had formed right at the center where her juices had soaked through. I could almost smell her, sweet, and unmistakably feminine.

“Fuck...” I muttered under my breath. My cock was now thickening rapidly, pressing against my zipper. I imagined hooking my fingers into those panties and peeling them aside, burying my face between those meaty lips and drinking straight from the source. The thought made my mouth water.

Third image.

Holy shit! The same woman stood with her legs shoulder-width apart, hands on her hips, proudly displaying her freshly-fucked cunt. Thick, watery cum, Dave’s cum, was slowly oozing from her stretched hole and running in a shiny white trail down her smooth, toned inner thigh. Her pussy lips were puffy and reddened from hard use, slightly gaping, still twitching. She was clearly a mature woman ... a MILF. Perfectly groomed landing strip above her clit. No face shot, just raw, used pussy on display.

My heart hammered. My cock was now fully hard, throbbing angrily in my pants, a wet spot of pre-cum already forming at the tip. I hated how good it looked. I hated how much I wanted to lean in closer.

Then I opened the fourth image.

And that’s when the world fucking stopped...

It was a close-up of her face, finally. She was on her knees, eyes half-lidded with lust, mascara slightly smudged. Her full lips were stretched wide around a thick cock buried balls-deep down her throat. Heavy balls snug against her chin. But it wasn’t the blowjob that destroyed me.

It was her face.

My mother’s face.

WTF!

My own mother, Cynthia, with her pretty mouth stuffed full of my best friend’s dick, her wedding ring glinting on the hand that was gently cupping his balls. In the reflection of the full-length mirror behind her, I could clearly see Dave holding his phone, smirking down at her like he owned her.

My brain shut down. Not gradually. All at once, like a switch. That piece of shit! I was on my feet without deciding to stand, the chair rolling back loud enough to startle Finn in the next room.

I folded my arms across my chest, jaw tight, staring at nothing. My breath was coming fast and shallow, the kind that doesn’t actually give you air. I tried to think, tried to trace it back, find the moment where I should have seen this coming. Seven years of friendship to find that he’s been sneaking behind my back fucking my mom.

But my cock ... my fucking traitorous cock stayed rock-hard, pulsing, leaking steadily into my briefs. I could feel the warm pre-cum soaking through the fabric as I stared at my mother’s throat bulging slightly with every shallow thrust Dave gave her.

I remembered all the times Dave had called her a MILF right in front of me. The way his eyes lingered on her ass when she walked by in yoga pants. The “jokes” about how she still had it. I’d always shut him down, told him to knock it off. And now here she was — on her knees like a whore, willingly deep throating him while her husband was probably asleep at home.

The mixture of burning jealousy, betrayal, and unwanted arousal made my head spin. My cock ached so badly I had to press the heel of my hand against it just to relieve some pressure. A low groan escaped my throat before I could stop it.

I sat back down staring at the frozen image of the porcelain-skinned beauty who’d raised me with Sunday dinners and bedtime stories—transformed into a complete, cock-hungry slut.

Her angelic face was now a wrecked masterpiece of depravity. Mascara ran in black tears down her flushed cheeks. Her full, glossy lips, lips that had kissed my forehead a thousand times were stretched wide around Dave’s thick, veiny cock, buried balls-deep in her throat. Saliva dripped from the corners of her stretched mouth pooling on her heaving tits that spilled out of her torn blouse.

One of her hands gripped his thigh for leverage, nails digging in, while the other disappeared between her own spread legs, frantically rubbing her soaked pussy.

The image burned into my retinas, shattering every illusion I’d ever had of my sweet mom ... gagging and slurping on Dave’s dick like a back-alley whore, her perfect face reduced to a sloppy fucktoy. And the worst part? She looked happier than I’d ever seen her.

And I still had an entire folder of videos left to watch, and I can honestly say I wasn’t looking forward to it. But I felt I needed to go on, if for no other reason but to find out how long my own mother had been sneaking around, spreading her legs.

I reluctantly opened the “Videos” folder. Five clips. I stared at the number for a moment, five was better than thirty, at least that’s what I told myself. I clicked the first one. It opened on a high-angle shot, the camera positioned above the headboard looking down on Dave’s bed.

A mature woman, unmistakably my own mother, even with her face turned away, knelt on all fours on Dave’s unmade mattress like a bitch in heat, back arched, knees spread wide, soaked pussy glistening with need. Her skin was impossibly smooth and flawless for a woman in her late forties, glowing under the bedroom light as if the years had only softened and ripened her. She had filled out in all the right places, thicker and heavier in the best possible way: wide, fertile hips, large, round ass that jiggled with every small movement, and full, swaying breasts that hung beneath her like ripe fruit.

Dave was on his knees behind her slamming into her fleshy heart-shaped ass; her cheeks rippled under his forceful thrusts, creating the famous booty “recoil” effect I’ve often seen in porn.

He slid his hands from her hips to her full cheeks possessively squeezing and spreading her doughy flesh like he’d earned the right. His eyes devoured every curve, every soft roll that I had never been allowed to.

I noticed mom began to tease Dave by swaying her MILF ass in slow, hypnotic circles, soft globes parting just enough to reveal her swollen pussy lips tightly wrapped around his shaft, glistening with her arousal then clap together to hide what was going on back there, but only for a moment. She used her heavy ass flesh to entice him deeper into her feminine core, and it was working. Dave started to really hammer into her now.

Although it disturbs me to say, she looked really hot, and that ass of hers was porn-star quality, easily putting girls half her age to shame. I knew mom took care of herself but I expected to see some cellulite or stretch marks marring her skin but she had none of that. She actually looked ten years younger, which surprised me.

Then my eyes caught the glint of her wedding ring forcing me to think about poor dad. How could I tell him he’s a cuck, especially after his battle with heart disease. I don’t think he’d be able to take it. For now, though, I figure I’ll protect her secret until I find out more.

Suddenly the footage switched to a POV shot. Dave had strapped on one of those tiny head-mounted cameras. Now I was seeing everything through his eyes, as if I was the one fucking her.

Dave’s thrusts were brutal as he slammed into her from behind. Her lips gripped him tight on every pull-out before being shoved back inside. Thick girl-cum coated his shaft in shiny layers with some dripping down his balls. Her creamy juices frothed into a filthy white foam that clung to his cock and smeared across her swollen pussy lips.

This went on for several long, agonizing minutes before Dave seized, letting out a deep, animalistic roar as his climax ripped through him pretty hard. He blasted rope after rope of his seed coating the walls of her pussy, marking her as his own. And if I know Dave, that’s probably what he thought.

At this point his cock was plunging slower now, the intensity tapering as his energy waned. Releasing his grip on her hips and leaving faint red marks. He let out a long, ragged gasp, lazily sawing his softening, each thrust weaker than the last, as if savoring the final pulses of his orgasm.

Once his chest stopped heaving, Dave slowly withdrew his spent cock from her slick, well-used pussy, producing a soft, lewd slurping sound as he pulled free. That’s when my mom lifted her head, revealing her flushed face. Without saying a word, she pushed herself up and got off the bed, heading to his bathroom. Dave smirked at the lens before the video ended.

I just sat there unable to move or think.

What the actual fuck did I just watch?

I dragged a shaky hand down my face, realizing I was sweating. My stomach was in knots. I felt sick but I also felt hard and I hated myself for it.

I reached for the mouse, cursor hovering over the next video in the folder, thumb trembling.

I didn’t want to click it.

I had to click it.

Because none of this made any sense ... and the only way I was ever going to understand how my sweet, perfect mom had turned into Dave’s personal cum-dump was to keep watching.

The next video started with mom lying on her back, naked, on his sofa, legs already spread like an offering. Without a word, Dave grabbed her wide hips and yanked her roughly to the very edge of the cushion, her plump ass hanging halfway off. He folded her in half like a cheap porn star, shoving her knees all the way back until they pressed against her shoulders, her ankles framing her head. Her voluptuous body bent and pinned, her dripping pussy and tight little asshole completely exposed and tilted upward, begging for cock.

Dave didn’t hesitate. He lined up his fat, veiny dick and drove straight into her in one brutal thrust, burying himself balls-deep in a single stroke. Mom’s mouth fell open in a silent gasp as her cunt swallowed every inch. Her puffy lips stretched tight around his thickness.

He immediately started fucking her hard in that folded mating position, long, punishing strokes that made her heavy tits bounce wildly against her chest. Wet, filthy slapping sounds filled the room every time his hips slammed into her upturned ass. With every thrust, her creamy juices soaked his shaft with some dripping down the crack of her ass onto the sofa.

Dave was slamming into her glistening pussy with a savage intensity, like he was hell-bent on splitting her open and piercing her mature cervix. He was treating her like some horny coed lost in the haze of a frat party. His strokes were deep, relentless, each one a punishing plunge that made the thick sofa cushion bounce beneath them.