Family Flavors

She watched Peter's mother give up on the door and move laboriously in deep snow to the parking circle at the rear where the main entrance was. She saw her ring the bell on the thick wooden doors. Nothing rang in the house because Claire had temporarily disabled the electric door-chime. Peter's mother tried the three car garage, no luck. Almost obscured by snow with fifteen minutes elapsed Claire saw her head down the slope to the front of the house. She seemed to be yelling, although the security cameras did not have sound capability.

Claire leapt up and ran down to the main room where Peter was half-reading a magazine.

"Can I have some music?" she said.

"Sure."

Claire went to the sideboard music center and flung on the first thing she could find, some old rock music from the eighties. Perfect. She turned up the volume and started to dance around.

"What's gotten into you?" shouted Peter.

"Come on," she pulled him up and made him dance with her, although he was not remotely in the mood for dancing. After forty minutes of cavorting around she let him sit. She turned off the music, ready to switch it up again if she heard anything. All she could hear was the howling wind around the house. The snow had slackened a little.

"Let's go to bed. We can watch TV up there."

"OK. My mother's probably going to be in her lab all evening."

"You go ahead. I'll follow you up."

Peter didn't want to argue with her, so he did as he was told. After he had gone Claire ran up to his mother's bedroom and checked the cameras. The house was still secure. There were lumps and humps sticking out of the drifting snow everywhere. Any one of them could be Peter's mother. She hoped so. The outside wind chill temperature was zero degrees Fahrenheit. Then she wiped the tapes, wiped the keypad and surfaces with a cloth, locked the door behind her, and descended to the huge entrance hall. She reconnected the door chime. If by any chance the woman had not died, it could not be traced to her. Peter didn't know, must never know.

She found Peter already in bed sitting up. He watched her. He had no idea what to expect from her.

"I might grow to like your mother," said Claire, as she undressed, put on a robe, and came to him. She sat down next to him on his side of the bed and felt around under the covers. She grasped him and softly stroked his cock. He was surprised and pleased, and he grew harder. She pulled down the covers and looked at his growing manhood.

"What flavor is he today?'

"White chocolate."

'Mmm. My favorite," she said, bending over.