So for the next hour, I tutored him. Once he got past his hostility over whatever was bugging him, he was okay to deal with. He wasn’t as dumb as most kids I tutored, he just needed a lot of repetition and positive reinforcement. By the end of the hour, I was pretty happy with his skill level for this week’s content.
“Thanks, and I’m sorry for being such an asshole at first,” he said.
“No worries,” I said.
“Thanks,” he said, grabbing his fall jacket. “I’m off to meet up with Maggie.”
“Good luck on your test,” I said, as he headed out… and I followed him down the hallway.
“Thanks,” he said. He then called out, “I’m out of here; bye, Mom.”
She didn’t respond, nor did he stay long enough to hear the reply that wasn’t forthcoming. I walked into the living room and saw Jasmine’s laptop lying open on the coffee table.
I don’t know why I decided to look… or what I was expecting to find… and the screen was black… meaning she’d been away from it for at least a little while… but I sat down and tapped the mousepad. I then tapped on the website at the bottom, and Twitter popped up.
With porn.
With nothing but porn!
There was a gif of a woman licking another woman with the caption: Good daughters please their mothers.
My eyes went wide. I’d been told earlier today she was a submissive… and bisexual… but when I looked up at her Twitter handle, I gasped… it was silkstockings69.
I followed this woman on Twitter! She was a very prolific and popular erotic writer who wrote stories in a variety of genres, but lesbian, incest and illustrated were the ones I read the most often… the Incest category having recently become my go to for a quick read, ever since I became a literal mother fucker a couple weeks ago.
Mrs. Walker was the one and only silkstockingslover… which was her Literotica handle.
No fucking way!
I scrolled through a few more posts, including her announcement of a story just released today, a hot retweet of an Asian cheerleader on a bus getting fucked. There was also a retweet of a sexy picture of Selena Gomez in stockings, with the response so yummy, and a wicked picture of a teen girl wearing a strap-on with the words: Mommy we need to talk… posted by someone named Mistressr3, which I’d have to check out later.
Ben had left the house and was gone.
The shocking truth was revealed.
My dick was throbbing in my pants.
I’d already been planning to fuck Jasmine this afternoon.
And apparently she was even more open-minded than I’d known when I arrived.
So how about I forgot about all the sweet talk I’d been planning, and cut right to the chase right now?
I saw the door to the basement was open, which it hadn’t been before, so maybe she was doing some laundry, especially since I recalled seeing her walking past Ben’s room carrying a laundry basket a few minutes ago.
I sneakily ‘spilled’ some coke from her nearby glass onto the crotch of my jeans and pulled them off, as well as my underwear, which I just tossed onto the floor, and I hurried down to the basement wearing no more than just my socks below the waist and a button-down shirt on top, which of course didn’t leave much to the imagination.
“Jasmine, are you down here?” I sang out.
“Over here,” she called back from a short distance away.
I walked into the laundry room, jeans in hand, and asked, seeing the dryer had just started, and luckily she was putting another load into the machine, my often-ignored Lord once again seeming to be squarely on my side on this super Sunday, “Can you please toss these in? I just spilt pop on them.”
“Oh sure,” she said, turning to face me, and then glancing down and seeing I wasn’t wearing much of anything, and my big erection was pointing directly at her. She took them from me, her face going a little red, and she turned back around, and without any comment, added my jeans to the load. I watched her from behind, as she started the machine.
When she turned around, she kept her eyes carefully directed at mine instead of at my dick, which was still locked and loaded and pointing at her, “We should go get you some pants.”
“No, it’s okay,” I said. I asked, as I kept my arms at my sides to give her a very clear look at my hard and impressive crotch (which she was still studiously ignoring), “May I ask you a question?”
“Sure,” she said, looking around at everything except for the elephant below my waist. “Right after we get you some pants, or at least a towel.”
“No, it’s okay, Jasmine,” I repeated. “Truth be told, my jeans were a bit tight, and Big Willy here needed some room to breathe.”
She started to brush past me, when I asked, while stepping in front of her, “So does Mrs. Grady know?”
“Does she know what?” she asked, her eyes going wide at just the mention of her black Mistress’s name.
“Your big secret,” I said.
“What big secret?” she asked, obviously trying to figure out which of her big secrets I knew, while she took just the slightest glance down at my big fat cock… it was barely noticeable, yet I saw her do it.
“Actually I know a few of them. For starters, you’re a submissive pussy licker for Danai Grady,” I said bluntly.
“Kevin, I…” she began, but I interrupted her.
“Go ahead and take a look down there, Jasmine,” I offered. “We both know you want to.”
“Kevin, whatever you’re attempting is seriously inappropriate,” she rebuked me as forcefully as she could manage. Which given her obvious nervousness, was pitiful. Not to mention she did in fact glance down at what I was packing… or rather at what I’d already unpacked, and even starched.
“Go ahead…” I said, resting my hands on her shoulders as a suggestion, but not at all forcefully for now, “… take a closer look.”
“Kevin…” she said, but then stopped in mid-breath… clearly flustered… and she also didn’t drop to her knees, like most of her of characters would do whenever a man or a woman settled their hands on a submissive’s shoulders.
“Think of yourself as a character in one of your stories,” I added, not revealing all the truth I knew.
Her cheeks went redder.