Chapter 4 - Chapter 4: Breakfast and Broken Rules

Saturday morning smelled like coffee and cinnamon.Elena was in the kitchen before Alex even opened his eyes, humming that same damn pop song as she flipped pancakes on the griddle. She wore one of her favorite outfits: tiny cotton sleep shorts that barely covered the bottom curve of her ass and a cropped tank top stretched thin across her chest. No bra. The outline of her nipples showed through the white fabric every time she reached for something high.Alex paused at the bottom of the stairs, gripping the banister so hard his knuckles whitened.She turned, spatula in hand, and smiled like nothing had happened the night before. Like she hadn't been bent over the patio table taking two loads from two different men while her son jerked off in the dark twenty feet above them."Morning, sleepyhead. I made your favorite—blueberry pancakes. Extra whipped cream."Her voice was sunshine. Her eyes sparkled. Nothing in her expression said she'd spent half the night with cum drying between her thighs.Alex forced his legs to move. Sat at the table. Stared at the plate she slid in front of him."You're up early," he muttered."Couldn't sleep." She leaned over to pour his orange juice, tits swaying inches from his face. "Too much… energy."He swallowed. The word landed like a punch.She sat across from him, legs crossed, one bare foot brushing his shin under the table "accidentally." She cut into her own stack, moaning softly around the first bite."Mmm. Perfect."Alex's fork trembled.They ate in silence for a minute. Then she spoke again, casual as if discussing the weather."You know, Marcus was asking about you yesterday."Alex's stomach flipped."Yeah?""Said you seem like a good kid. Quiet. Respectful." She licked syrup from her lip. "He thinks you could use some male guidance. Since your dad's… busy."Alex stared at his plate. "I'm fine.""Of course you are." She reached across, covered his hand with hers. Her nails were freshly painted—deep red. "But if you ever want to talk… about anything… I'm here. Always."Her thumb stroked the back of his hand. Slow. Deliberate.Alex pulled away like he'd been burned.She didn't react. Just smiled wider.After breakfast she announced she was going grocery shopping. Asked if he wanted to come.He said no.She left in yoga pants and a sports bra that left nothing to imagination. Hair in a high ponytail. Keys jingling.The second her car disappeared around the corner, Alex moved.He went straight to her bedroom.The door was unlocked.The room smelled like her—vanilla body lotion, sex, and something sharper he couldn't name.The bed was unmade. Sheets tangled. A wet spot the size of a dinner plate darkened the center. He stared at it until his vision blurred.On the nightstand: her phone.He shouldn't.He did.No passcode. She trusted him that much.He opened her messages.The thread with Marcus was at the top.Last night's exchange:Marcus (1:47 AM): You still leaking me?Elena (1:49 AM): Dripping. Can barely walk straight. Callahan left a huge load too. Feel like such a slut Marcus (1:50 AM): Good girl. Send proof.A photo followed.Elena on her knees in the bathroom, legs spread, fingers spreading her swollen pussy. Thick white cream oozed out, coating her inner thighs. Caption: Your cum and his. Still warm.Another photo: her sucking two fingers clean, eyes locked on the camera.Marcus (1:52 AM): That's my whore. Door's open tomorrow night. Bring that married cunt over. I've got friends who want a turn.Elena (1:53 AM): How many?Marcus (1:54 AM): Enough to make you forget your own name.Alex's cock throbbed painfully against his zipper.He scrolled up.More photos. Videos.One clip: Elena riding Marcus reverse cowgirl on what looked like Callahan's couch. Her tits bouncing wildly. Marcus's hands gripping her hips, leaving bruises. She was facing the camera—phone propped somewhere—moaning his name over and over.Another: her on all fours in someone's backyard. Three men this time. One in her mouth. One in her pussy. One waiting, stroking himself. The timestamp was two nights ago. While Alex had been at a friend's house studying.He dropped the phone like it burned him.Stumbled backward. Hit the dresser. A bottle of perfume clattered to the floor.That's when he noticed the drawer half-open.Inside: a black velvet bag.He pulled it out with shaking hands.A thick glass dildo—realistic veins, suction cup base. A smaller plug with a jewel at the end. A bottle of lube. And a handwritten note in Marcus's blocky scrawl:Wear the plug all day tomorrow. No panties. I want you ready when I come collect what's mine.Under the note: a pair of sheer black panties. Crusted at the crotch.Alex's knees buckled.He sank onto the edge of the bed. Right in the wet spot.The smell hit him—musk, salt, her.He should leave. Burn the phone. Tell his dad. Run.Instead he picked up the panties.Brought them to his face.Inhaled.His mother's scent mixed with other men's cum.He groaned—low, broken.His free hand was already undoing his jeans.He wrapped the filthy fabric around his cock. Stroked once. Twice.Pictured her wearing them yesterday. Walking around the grocery store with Marcus's load still inside her. Smiling at the cashier while another man's seed leaked into the lace.He came fast. Hard. Spilling over the panties, adding his shame to the mess.When the aftershocks faded he sat there, breathing ragged, staring at the ruined fabric.He wiped himself clean with it.Folded it neatly.Put everything back exactly as he'd found it.Closed the drawer.Left the room.Downstairs he showered until the water ran cold.When Elena came home—bags rustling, voice bright—he was at the kitchen table again. Textbook open. Pretending to study.She kissed his cheek on her way past."You smell nice," she said. "Fresh shower?""Yeah.""Good boy." She ruffled his hair. "I'm gonna take a nap. Long day."She disappeared upstairs.Alex waited until he heard her bedroom door click shut.Then he opened his own phone.Searched her name on a private browser.Found nothing new.Closed it.Opened it again.Typed: "neighborhood milf creampie gangbang"Clicked the first video that loaded.The woman looked nothing like Elena.But he imagined she did.He watched until the screen blurred.Until his hand moved again.Until he came a second time that afternoon, silent and hating every pulse.When Elena came down later—refreshed, glowing, wearing that same cropped tank and shorts—she found him still at the table.She leaned over his shoulder, breasts brushing his back."Homework going okay?"He nodded. Couldn't speak.She kissed the top of his head."Mommy's proud of you."Then she walked away, hips swaying, leaving the faint scent of sex and vanilla in her wake.Alex closed his eyes.He didn't cry this time.He just sat there.Listening to her move around the house.Waiting for night.Waiting for the next sound.Waiting for the next crack to widen.Because he knew—bone-deep, sick certainty—that it would.And he wasn't sure he wanted it to stop anymore.