Every character in this story is 18+, even the daughter who is not directly involved in any of the sexual activity. The main theme is cuckolding.
“Hey, Rod. Is your wife home? I’m here to have sex with her.” Chet was leaning against the doorframe, his cigarette stink already invading Rodney’s house.
“Oh, really? I'm shocked. Does that mean you’re not here to eat our food?”
“Well, a little of that too, if you don’t mind. Plowing your wife is hungry work.”
“Uh-huh...” Rodney almost pitied the man; his good looks fading, Chet clung to youth and popularity with an old leather jacket and a baseball cap over his receding hairline. The high school king was now a thirtysomething bum. “Well, Emily’s out for groceries, so you’ll have to come back later...” Then Rod cursed under his breath at the poor timing; his dismissal was interrupted by his wife pulling up in the driveway.
One of Emily’s smooth long legs exited the car first. A passerby at the right angle would have caught a glimpse of the waxed pussy under the short, sunflower summer dress as she spread her legs to exit the vehicle. With a stalker like Chet, losing panties had become a bigger annoyance than going without. You didn’t need a particular angle to notice her lack of bra, however. By the way they were jiggled under the thin fabric as Emily walked around the car, you could tell this was a woman who had been blessed early in life, and motherhood had dialed it up to eleven. Mommy tits like that, but with a waist you could almost wrap your hands around, was a dream physique attributed to constant exercise, in her case: sex.
As Emily bent over to pick up the first grocery bag, familiar rough hands ran up her thighs, lifting the little skirt over the plump apple bottom. Being groped from behind didn't startle her at all anymore. Fingers dug into the meat of her ass, and an even more familiar cock pushed between the tight cheeks. “Chet, can I bring in the damn groceries first?”
“I’m pretty sure you said anytime, anyplace, anyway. Going back on a promise —tsk, tsk— what kind of role model would you be for your daughter?”
Emily had indeed made that promise to Chet... when they were dating in high school. She meant it at the time, but an expiration date would have been a smart move in hindsight. Their breakup, her marriage to Rodney, and the birth of her child did not discourage her ex-boyfriend from taking her up on the offer at the very least once a day since that fateful whisper in his ear.
“Fuck... not the ass again, please. I’m still sore from this morning,” Emily said amongst the groceries. Chet was big, certainly bigger than Rodney and probably bigger than the vast majority of men. There was a time when she thought, along with most girls at their school, that this made him a catch, the ultimate lover, the boy you should feel lucky to be noticed by. Now, this giant cock was just a pain in her ass.
“Anytime. Anyplace...”
“Anyway. I know. I just thought you could cut me some slack today since it’s Rod and I’s anniversary.”
“Oh shit, congratulations. I really envy you guys, you know. I hope I find a special girl of my own one day.”
Emily took the anal probing with the accompanying crotch slaps on her squishy butt in relative silence. A few moans escaped when Chet’s dick hit a particularly tender spot at the bottom of her stretched rectum, but most of the noise was from her breasts crinkling the paper bags in the trunk as she was driven roughly against them. She was used to the discomfort of an anal cock only lubricated with the cunt juices from an earlier fuck in the day. She spent more time being a sex toy for Chet than all her other activities combined, and that included sleep.
Chet dug into the grocery bags to pop Emily’s breasts out of her dress and squeeze them as he fucked but found some chips first and helped himself.
“Remember in high school? You used to say my dick was as big as a Pringles can,” he said, crunching a mouth full and winking at a perturbed neighbor passing by with her dog.
“Yeah, that feels about right,” Emily replied, looking at the large tube in question with a wince in her voice.
“Is there anything that goes in the freezer?”
“Jesus, Rodney, don’t sneak up on me like that. I was just about to jizz in your wife’s ass. Now I gotta work up to it again.”
“Sorry, I just don’t want any groceries to go to waste. We’re a single-income home, you know.” Whether Rodney was implying Emily couldn’t get a job because of the constant sex or that it would be nice if the uninvited guest contributed financially if he was going to fuck his wife went way over Chet’s head.
“There’s ice cream and frozen pizza in the Thermos bag,” Emily said between clenched teeth and between two deep thrusts.”
“OK, I’ll bring those in. And I’ll wait until you’re not on top of the groceries before bringing the rest,” Rodney regretted his choice of words immediately, and though his wife was exceptionally busy at the moment, she picked up on his frustration.
“Can you watch your tone, please?” Emily said, cranking her neck to look at her husband standing next to the guy fucking her. “You think I want this? You think I’m having a great time?”
“You guys are really killing the mood right now,” Chet said without slowing down his crotch slaps. “Since you both want me out of your hair so bad, then how about ten fucking minutes of quiet so I can finish and everybody gets what they want.”
Rodney sighed. Emily moaned. Both thinking the same thing. Though he squirted untold quantities of semen inside Emily’s ass, throat, and pussy, the word 'finish' didn’t really mean anything coming from someone who was constantly horny. But the plan had always been to deal with Chet one load at a time. “I’ll see you later, sweetie. I love you,” Rodney said. Emily moaned.
“Uncle Chet! Can you help me with my homework tonight?” Chelsea was the spitting image of her mother, which was a relief for Rodney, who had nightmares about the baby coming out with Chet’s face. To someone who grew up with Chet in the house more often than her own alleged father, the man fucking her mom was part of the family.
“Sorry, princess, I’m going to be fucking your mom all day as soon as she gets her cum-filled ass up in bed and probably all night, too. But maybe I can take a look tomorrow morning before you go to school?” High school math was technically fresher in Chet’s mind than most, given how many times he repeated senior year.
“That’d be great! Thanks, Uncle Chet.”
“Alright, see you tomorrow, princess,” he said, ruffling Chelsea’s hair. He slapped her mother’s butt as she walked passed them on the way to the upstairs bedroom. There was a lot of cum dripping down her the inside of her thighs, no doubt from an aching, tender asshole.
“Oh, Chelsea...” Chet stopped himself halfway up the stairs but didn’t turn to look at Chelsea; his eyes were fixed on Emily’s upskirt as she climbed the last steps. “Can you lend your mom your school uniform for tonight? We’ll give it back tomorrow, promise.”
“My uniform? It’s never going to fit her,” Chelsea said, realizing too late that she had insulted her own chest size.
“Yeah, that’s kind of the point.”
Rodney had to knock on the open bedroom door to get the attention of the couple fucking in his bed. When it didn’t work, he knocked louder. Emily turned her head to the sound, then looked away in shame. Riding Chet’s cock cowgirl style at his request, she continued clapping her butt on her bull’s thighs. Making Chet cum was the only way to make him leave, even if that had to happen six to nine times. Chelsea’s uniform was tight around her mother's chest, even with Emily's boobs exploding out of the unbuttoned top half. Chet had his big hands on them and controlled the speed of her twerking on his cock by squeezing hard or very hard. The skirt of the uniform, already several sizes too short, was hiked up to look more like a belt, showing all of the woman’s succulent thighs flexing with sexual effort.
“Just wanted to know if you had an idea how long you were going to be staying tonight, Chet?”
“I don’t know, Rodney. Your daughter’s school uniform is really doing it for me. Doesn’t your wife look like an absolutely breedable slut in it?”
Having her long brown hair in childish pigtails, wearing his daughter’s school uniform, and a pussy stretched tightly around another man’s cock did not make Emily any less of a goddess in Rodney’s eyes. “She’s ravishing as always,” Rodney said, looking at his bouncing wife. The loving couple exchanged a loving look, then a smile.
“Hey... Is there something going on between you two?” Chet interrupted the sweet moment, looking hurt. “Haha, just kidding. I know you’re married.”
Rodney sighed, thinking he probably sighed almost as often as Chet came inside Emily on any given day. Thinking about it more seriously, he'd have to sigh twice as often, at least. “If you need anything, I guess I’ll be on the couch.”
“It’s your house, Rod. You can sleep wherever you like,” Chet said as the door closed. Then, based on how vigorously Emily started grinding on his cock, he must have squeezed her fat titties with all his strength to get back in the zone after his short conversation with kill-the-mood Rodney.
“Morning, Rodney. How’d you sleep?” Chet was always at his most cheerful after a long night of endless sex. He was eating pancakes which no doubt meant that Emily had been cooking; the man had been practically living here for years and wouldn’t have been able to tell you which cupboard had plates. At least he was helping Chelsea with her homework like he promised her yesterday, though it was disconcerting to see her in the school uniform her mom had been fucked in all night.
“Well, you know, it was a bit noisy last night with the bed rocking above my head and all, but I eventually dozed off. Where’s Emily?”
Chet shushed him with a finger on his lips, winked, then pointed under the table. Rodney bent down to see his wife tending to Chet’s cock like a suckling veal. She was out of the uniform and into... nothing. She was naked under there, her "breedable" pussy dripping Chet’s cum on the kitchen floor and her breasts swaying through the vigorous sucking. “I don’t know what I expected,” Rodney said to himself.
“Dad, Uncle Chet says he’s going to be staying here for a few months,” Chelsea said cheerfully. “Isn’t that great?”
Chet raised his hands in feigned frustration like he had been looking forward to announcing this delightful surprise. “Yeah, I’m between jobs right now and between apartments. I figure I already spend most of my time here, and you seem happy with the couch; might as well officially move in.”
“Chet...” Rodney started. His patience had begun to erode these last few years. And, now that he knew, Emily’s sucking and slurping sounds coming from under the kitchen table were perturbingly obvious and a little irritating.
“I know,” Chet stopped him. “I know that you’re always complaining about money, but I don’t plan on being a freeloader. I’ve been thinking of getting into the streaming business, you know?” He shielded his mouth from Chelsea with his hand before loudly whispering the next words: “The kinky kind.”
Rodney rolled his eyes. Of course, any endeavor from Chet would involve sex. It was apparently the only skill the man had.
“They say the best way to be happy is to turn your favorite hobby into a lucrative career. Well, mine is...”
“Fucking my wife, I know.”
“Dad!”
“But he says it all the time!” Rodney pointed at Chet who used this exact phrasing a dozen times yesterday alone.
“I know, but it’s weird when you say it,” Chelsea said, closing her books.
“It’s a little weird, Rod,” Chet added before contorting his face, no doubt dumping a morning load into Rodney's wife’s throat with an arm over his daughter's shoulders.