Family Disrupted Pt. 01

"You can't be serious."

"You signed it, Mr. Lokkens," the beautiful teacher said, "I just carry out the orders. And this contract clearly states that failure to perform these hours will result in the termination of your children from the entire state school system. They'll be barred from ever attending school again."

I thought about how their futures would be ruined by something like that.

"I'm sure you or your wife will be able to find a way to cover those hours," the teacher said.

I walked out of the office in a daze. I hadn't even told my wife that our son was in trouble. Now I had to explain this!

"Oh, excuse me!" shouted a voice. It was the teacher, following me out into the parking lot.

"One thing I forgot to mention," she said, "I actually think this might help you." She handed me a flyer for a coffee shop poetry open mic night. I was confused.

"I perform here at this coffee shop on some nights," she said, "It's a community event, so attendance by you would count against your son's hours. It's an 18+ only event, so don't bring the little ones, but there's an hour a week for attending. The next one is on Friday."

The teacher gave me a wink and a smile, and I gulped out of anxiety.

"See you there?" I said nervously and she nodded.

"Yes, 8pm, sharp," she said, and walked away, showing off how short her skirt was as I could almost see the bottom of her ass cheeks.

--

When I got home and told Samantha what had happened with our son, she berated me profusely.

"How could you sign such a silly document! Now our children are at risk to end up in the gutter!"

I told her there was no way it could be that severe and she showed me statistics that showed that more and more, kids like ours were ending up no more useful to society than human garbage. How easy it would be for our genetic offspring to be a waste, to just completely contribute nothing to the world and end up spiraling in the sewer.

"I can't believe this. I am so done!" she shouted, and slammed our bedroom door.

I slept that night in the guest room, hoping she would feel differently in the morning. While I was there, I had nothing else to do except go on the web.

First, I googled the name of the administrator with the hot tits and short skirt. Mrs. Trisha Kensley was her official name, but the flyer she had given me had a second name on it: Trish the Poet. Googling that name, I found her Instagram which was a treasure trove of salacious content. Under the guise of "artistic expression", Trish the Poet posted images of herself in tight latex pants, spreading across a bed that was painted with the word: patriarchy. An ominous sword in her hands was labeled "anticolonialism" and she had brass knuckles that said "ACAB." I wasn't sure what to make of it, except for the delicious hint of her nipples peaking out of her light tank top.

Without my wife's attention that night, Trish the Poet would make for easy bate material. As I jerked, I wondered how many other men like me, especially around that school, had found these photos and were happily spilling seed to them perhaps every single day.

In the morning, the kids were gone, and my wife was very soberly sitting at the kitchen table. I noticed immediately how she was dressed: a tight professional white skirt with lines down the side, and a white blazer. Only once I sat in front of her did I see how the blazer was positioned: it was too short to cover her midriff, which was deliciously feminine if not a little round, and the only thing she had on beneath it was a black lacey bra. Nothing was showing, but it was a far more scandalous outfit than anything I knew her to own.

"What's that?" I asked, pointing to the outfit, but she shook her finger.

"Let's discuss your incidents first," she said. I sat down at the table like a scared puppy.

"First off, both our sons will of course be splitting some of the burden of the community service that you signed them up for," she said. "I've gotten them paper routes with the local paper, and they'll be waking up bright and early to shave 2 hours each every single day off the commitment."

Good, I reasoned. That was a good start.

"As for the rest," she said, "It's clear that you and I will have to bear the brunt. Now, with your current salary, I figure we can afford to buy the right to donate cans, clothes, and other goods which should do a good deal. But there's still about a 40 hour weekly commitment that will need to be covered."

I gulped. 40 hours a week? On top of my full time job?

"Obviously, with your job, you won't be able to do it. And we need your salary to cover the donations. So, it's been decided, I'll take a position in the government, without pay, to cover the rest of the time."

I breathed easy. Thank god, this would all be solved.

"Thank you dear," I said, hugging my wife Samantha, "Thank you!"

"Don't mention it," she said, smiling, and revealed she had a nice egg sandwich already made and ready for me to eat.

"This is such a treat," I said.

"I wanted to make you happy," she said, "Even if you made a mistake you still are my husband and I want to care for you."

I smiled and ate my sandwich. When I was done, she quickly cleared my plate and did the dishes.

"Wow," I said, watching her attend on me like a maid, "This is... new!"

"I understand that I haven't always been, well, the most 'dutiful' wife," she said, immediately packing my lunch for me to go to work. "I've asked you to cover housing duties like dishes and chores. That wasn't very lady like of me."

I had no idea where this was coming from, but I wasn't complaining!

"I was at the mall with Alexa yesterday," she said, "And she explained a lot to me about how her life has changed since she started playing the more traditional woman's role. And I think that sounded like something I should try out."

As disturbing as my experience with Alexa had been, that didn't sound bad!

"She bought me this outfit," she said, pointing out her tight skirt and bare midriff to me, "I think it looks good, don't you agree?"

"I do," I said, standing up and caressing the outside of her blazer. Her big round tits looked like they were about to burst out.

"Honey," she said, blushing, "Won't you be late for work?"

"I don't care," I said, immediately tugging the blazer off to let her breasts free. After a night of masturbating, I wanted so badly to plunge into my wife.

She scooted up her skirt to reveal that she wasn't wearing any panties.

"Alexa said they're a waste," she started to explain, but I didn't care. I immediately thrust my cock in between her, finding delicious warmth in her pussy that shivered up my spine.

"Oh Drew! Your cock!" she moaned, and I fucked her over our kitchen sink like I was some kind of animal. The window in the kitchen was open: anyone walking by could see my wife's dangling breasts slapping back and forth as I pounded her from behind.

"Cum inside me!" she begged again, but I once again was careful to pull and and ejaculate all over her skirt.

"Honey!" she shouted, "I was going to wear this today!"

I was too winded to apologize, and I just collapsed on the floor of the kitchen, satisfied.

"Hmmm," she said, looking at what fine work she had made of me, laying on the floor like that, "Maybe Alexa is onto something!"

--

Samantha and I fucked every night that week, and each time, it was hotter than the last. She got way more experimental in bed than I was used to. She sucked my cock, let me fuck her tits, even stuck a finger in my asshole "just to see if I liked it." I did!

On top of that, I saw every single one of the outfits she had bought when she and Alexa went shopping. They were all still within a range of acceptable, but a little skin there, some cleavage, and the overall knowledge that she wasn't wearing panties anymore got me hard.

"It's all for you, baby," she said one night before swallowing my load and heading out to finish making the home cleaner.

All's to say that despite the weirdness at school and with our kids, my life with Samantha had never been better. I wasn't even tempted to attend Trish the Poet's Friday night series... I was too busy busting a load all over my wife Samantha's massive jugs!

When it came time to visit Alexa and Tyson again for another Sunday BBQ, I was in good spirits. Nothing would get me off.

This time, in the car, both my sons were quiet and still. My oldest was exhausted from his paper route, school, locker room clean up, and cheerleading practice. And my youngest seemed to be mulling something over.

This time, when we pulled into the driveway, there was only one of Alexa's children waiting there. He opened the door as usually and then led my boys aside, away from the house, which was fine by Samantha and me.

"Welcome back!" Alexa shouted. This time, she was wearing a simple white cloth dress that was probably a single sheet of cotton thick. Her entire bare body was visible as she twirled under the lights: her rosy naval, her pink nipples, her feminine collar bones. My wife was still extremely conservative compared to Alexa, but this time, her blouse was open to reveal a hint of cleavage and under her skirt, she wore no panties.

Tyson appeared and shook my hand. He was no longer offended by me, it seemed. He was even jovial, slapping my back and leading me into the kitchen to get a beer. We were away from the wives now.

"Hey man, I just want to say, I don't think I noticed fully last time, but your wife is fine!"

Here, he slapped me on the back, a show of comradery.

"Just so fine! She got those big titties, man."

Nervously, I said, "Yeah, haha, thanks."

"You ever fuck them?"

"Hmm?"

"Are you fucking those titties?"

Tyson wanted to know if I was fucking my own wife's titties? In fact, I was. I had just blown a load inside of them yesterday.

"Yeah, haha I am."

"Nice, man," he said, and extended his hand to fist bump me.

"If I had a chick like that," he continued, "With big titties like that, I'd be constantly--" here, he mimed using his big hands to grab my wife's breasts, sticking his face between them and slapping around his big lips.

"I'd be tugging at her nipples with my teeth, you know what I'm saying."

I just laughed, joining him in the fun.

"Hey, man, I don't know if you're like this," he said, "But you ever let the squad hit?"

"Huh?"

"See, where I come from, when you got good pussy--like, really truly great gushing pussy--a good man will let the whole squad take a hit. You follow?"

I told him I didn't.

"You wanna let me take a go at her, that's what I'm saying?"

"You mean, fuck? You want to fuck Samantha?"

"You hear me now!" he said, patting me on the back, "So yes?"

Here was the big handed ex con, handing me a beer and asking if he could fuck my wife! What did he expect, me to nod and then usher him into the living room where he could drop his trouser and plow Samantha right there?

"Nah," I said, nervously, "That's not really me."

"Oh alright," he said, a little bitterness in his voice, "Y'know, you'd get a shot at Alexa too, if you wanted."

"Uhhh, no thanks." As hot as it sounded to get Alexa's fine and fuckable body in my arms, Samantha would kill me if I fucked her friend. And I certainly didn't want Samantha fucking this hulking beast here!

After I told Tyson that I didn't want to swing with him, he immediately ignored me and returned out to the girls. It was such an abrupt change that I was slow to follow him into the big seating area where he was now sitting sandwiched in between Samantha and Alexa. He had one of his big hands on each of their knees, too close to what I knew was Samantha's totally uncovered breathing pussy.

"Hey, we're all comfy, would you mind getting the food? It's all prepped out back already."

I trudged out to the back patio where there were trays of BBQ and toppings already laid out. I took a few trips, carrying everything into the living room, while Tyson and the ladies told stories and laughed.

As soon as I sat down, Samantha turned to Tyson and Alexa and asked a question.

"I noticed only one of your boys outside," she said, "What happened to your oldest?"

Alexa had to think about it, as if she wasn't entirely sure.

"Oh yes," she said suddenly, "There was an accident."

"An accident?"

"Tyson here was wrestling with the boys," Alexa said.

"Trying to see if they had the stuff in 'em to be men," Tyson said.

"Yes, and while wrestling, our oldest son suffered a bit of an injury."

"Oh dear," Samantha said, "What kind of injury?"

"Nothing major," Alexa said, "I supposed his limbs will all heal in due time. Until then, he'll just be staying at the hospital. Which is better than where he was staying in the shack, of course. His brother is practically jealous of him!"

Samantha laughed, and I wondered uneasily what exactly had really happened.

Despite all her frustrations last week, this week Samantha was in jovial spirits. I suppose our good sex life had something to do with it. Finally, after much drinking and laughing, Samantha finally burst out with the big question.

"Tyson," she said, "I'm just dying to know. What happened that you were spending 25 years in prison?"

"Oh, haha!" he shouted, slapping both women's thighs for emphasis and scooting his hands further up their bodies, "Well, it was just a little thing. Happened so long ago. But it wasn't far from here, just down the block."

"In this neighborhood?" I asked. The place where Carl picked his house was a luxurious place.

"Yes, it was. I didn't have very much money back then. I was down on my luck. Eating only what I could get. Robbing convenience stores for grub and cash. And one day, I come across this neighborhood with all its big houses and well, I just had to come take a look."

Both women leaned forward sympathetically, sorry to hear about Tyson's hard times.

"So I was coming through this neighborhood, with nothing but my old sneakers and my shot gun, for protection, and I come across a great nice house that looked like it might have some food."

"You must have been so hungry," Alexa said, patting her man's chest.

"I was. So I come and find that the big front door is open and I come in and I see a beautiful young woman with long black hair, wearing an apron and just finishing up one of the most delicious looking rotisserie chickens I'd ever seen."

"She must have been startled," I said, and both women shot me angry glances.

"She was a bit scared of the shotgun. But I told her my story, and she said I could help myself to all her dinner. She had been making it for her husband who was out. So I take my fill and meanwhile, she's watching me eat and I'm noticing, damn, this bitch has some big titties!"

Both women blushed at this part of the story, but Tyson kept going.

"I said, 'pardon me miss, but have you ever been with a man like me?' And she looks me up and down and says that she hasn't. So I told her that I could give her the greatest sexual experience of her life, right here, right now."

Both women heard his promise and nodded. They knew he was serious.

"So I take her into her big living room, and I strip her naked. I'm sucking on those big breasts of hers and then, I pull down my pants. And she sees the biggest blackest cock that her fine eyes have ever seen and she can't help herself anymore. She starts slobbering on it, trying to swallow it all, and I'm polishing off the last bits of her husband's meal from my finger tips, getting ready to stick everything inside of her."

He let out a big hearty laugh.

"So I get her face down, ass up on the couch and I start fucking her. She's glued to my dick, easily the best dick she's ever had. She starts talking dirty to me, telling me that her husband is a little boy compared to me, she called him-- hmm, hey, Alexa, what did you call your husband the other day?"

"A shrimp dick," Alexa answered.

"A shrimp dick, that was it. She's calling her husband a shrimp dick and I'm fucking her, grabbing her big dangling tits, and that's when it happened. There was a big sound and I didn't even hesitate: I aimed my shot gun and fired."

"You must have been so scared," Alexa said.

"It was pure instinct. I heard the thud as the man collapsed. It was the husband, coming in through the front door, probably wide eyed at the sight of his former lover all sweaty and hot on the couch getting dicked down the best she'd ever had. And now he's got a round in him, ending his time on Earth, while she's still moaning and creaming on my cock!"

Tyson proudly nodded as he remembered fucking this housewife.

"So we're still fucking as the poor body is just laying there and I figure we're good for, say, another hour or two of fucking. But then, right as she's at the height of her orgasm, another sound at the door!"

Here, Tyson stood up, acting out as if he was fucking the woman and pointing his shotgun at the door.

"It was her son this time, and once again, I fired first and asked questions later. Now, this guy was definitely too old to be living with his momma, but like his daddy, his final image was seeing his fine momma getting fucked by yours truly. He lay there, finishing his time, right next to him, all while I kept going and kept making that woman cum!"

"'Mmmm, you're so bad,' she said, taking my dick, and I was almost ready to cum!"

In present day, Tyson mimed hearing the door again.

"Then I heard the door for the third time, and this time, because my nut was so close, I had the good sense to wait a moment. It was the lady's daughter, home from college, and she sees the two bodies in the entryway and her momma getting fucked and the shotgun barrel getting pointed at her face and she just freezes. I'm grunting now, her momma's grunting still, the sound of my balls slapping against her momma's stomach is the main noise, and she can't move a muscle."

"I didn't even have to say shit," Tyson continued, "Before the little slut was getting naked right there and sliding her fine body over to come join her momma getting fucked by me!"

The two women on the couch clapped and laughed as Tyson told the story.

"So now I've got two bitches: mom and daughter, and the daughter's licking my sweaty balls as I'm fucking her mom. She' begging me to keep going, but now, I want to try some of this college pussy too. So I nut, I cream a big fat load inside this woman and she's happy and full and now she starts licking my balls while I'm fucking the face of her 21 year old daughter."

Tyson's miming holding the girl's head with one hand, the shotgun with the other, as he face fucks 25 years in the past.

"Look, I was gonna fuck her pussy real good. I was ready to fuck her and knock her up just like her mom. But that's when the feds came in, and they had to pry me off those babes to take me in. So I didn't even get to fire my second nut!"

Tyson ended his story with a powerful slam of his fist onto the coffee table. He spilled a tray of hamburgers, which Alexa immediately began cleaning up. Following her lead, my own wife began to help clean up the mess.

"Anyway," he said, sitting down on the empty couch while the two women cleaned up, "That's my story. That's how I got 25 years."

"Jesus," I said. He was a cold blooded killer!

"But I'm blessed to be out now," he said, talking more to the air than to me, "Blessed to be with this fine ass woman and in her blessed home."

The wives came back and, to my surprise, Samantha took the seat next to Tyson again, even though there was an open one next to me.

"I need a drink," Tyson said, "What do we got?"

"How about something nice, from the wine cellar?" Alexa suggested.

"That sounds right. Something expensive," he said, standing up, "I want to go pick."