I made sure to fill her up well, and send her home dripping 💦 who knows what might come out of her in around 9 months 😉

Would you raise my offspring as your sibling or secretly despise them? Be honest 🤭

Rachel and Hunter: A Mother and Her son’s Bully Chronicles.

Episode 3-“Baby oil fuck session after school PTA meet up”

FYI:Episodes mean sexual encounters between Rachel and Hunter.

The Northside High School gym smelled like floor wax and weak coffee.

Rachel walked in wearing a tight white ribbed V-neck long-sleeve top and light-wash jeans, black shoulder bag at her side. This was her third PTA meeting since she’d signed up two months ago. At first it had been about staying involved with Ethan and Emily’s school. Lately it had also become one of the few things in her week that belonged only to her — a break from the quiet loop of laundry, grocery runs, and waiting for everyone else to come home.

She was talking to another parent about the fall fundraiser when she felt someone watching her.

Hunter stood near the double doors in a yellow-and-white plaid shirt over a black tank, light jeans, backpack hanging off one shoulder. Messy black hair, that same easy half-smile. He looked completely at home.

Rachel’s stomach dropped.

He started walking toward her.

“Didn’t think you’d still be coming to these,😏”

Hunter said once he was close enough.

Rachel kept her voice low.

“I could say the same about you.🙄”

“Senior volunteer hours. Easy credit.😎”

He glanced at the coffee table, then back at her.

“You look tense.😉”

“That’s because five days ago you shoved my son’s head into a toilet full of shit and piss,😠and somehow you’re still walking around this school like nothing happened.🤔”

Hunter’s expression barely shifted.

“There’s no proof it was me.😎”

“There never is.😒”

Rachel’s voice stayed quiet but sharp.

“We sat in Delgado’s office — me, Mark, Ethan, you — and you just sat there while my husband looked ready to come across the table. The school did nothing. Again. And I sat there the whole time saying almost nothing.”

She looked away for a second, jaw tight.

Because she had. She’d sat in that office feeling like the worst person in the room. Mark furious. Ethan quiet and humiliated. Delgado repeating the same line about insufficient evidence. And the entire time Rachel had been carrying the secret that she was fucking the boy who had done it. That she’d been softening Mark’s anger at home, telling Ethan to just try to stay out of the way, letting things slide because the alternative meant risking everything blowing up.

Hunter studied her.

“You’re still pissed.”

“Of course I’m still pissed. You’re the reason he comes home quiet most days. You’re the reason my husband is still simmering. And somehow I keep ending up in rooms with you anyway.”

Hunter’s mouth curved slightly.

“Interesting way of putting it.”

Rachel looked away first. The gym noise felt suddenly too loud.

Across town, back at the Smith house, Mark set two Papa John’s boxes on the kitchen island.

“Alright, eat before it gets cold.😄🥸”

Emily was already grabbing plates.

“Pepperoni side is mine. Don’t even try it.🤷🏻‍♀️”

Ethan sat at the table in his gray hoodie, quiet, scrolling his phone. He hadn’t said much since he got home.

Mark dropped into the chair across from him and opened one of the boxes.

“You eat lunch today?😕”

Ethan shrugged.

“Some.😔”

“Any better this week?”

Mark asked, keeping his voice light.

“Hallways any clearer?”

Ethan didn’t look up.

“Same.”

Mark leaned forward a little.

“Hey. Look at me for a second.”

Ethan reluctantly lifted his eyes.

“That shit on Monday was fucked up,”

Mark said.

“I know the school didn’t do anything. I know it feels like no one’s got your back. But I do. We’re not dropping this. I’m still on Delgado every other day.🤨”

Ethan gave a small nod, but there was no real belief in it. Inside, the humiliation from having his head shoved into that toilet was still sitting in his chest like a weight. The smell. The laughter. The way people looked at him afterward. He hadn’t told his dad the full details — how long Hunter had held him there, how many people had been in the bathroom — because saying it out loud made it worse.

Emily dropped into her chair with a slice.

“I still think you’re making some of it bigger than it is. Hunter’s like… friends with half the senior class. Teachers like him. He doesn’t seem like the type.”

Ethan shot her a look.

“You weren’t there.”

“I’m just saying. Everyone at school acts like he’s cool. Maybe it was someone else and you’re just assuming.”

“Emily,”

Mark said, a quiet warning in his tone.

She held up her hands.

“Fine. I’m just trying to understand.”

Mark checked his phone. 5:51 p.m.

“Mom’s meeting should be over by now. She said it wrapped at five.”

He typed:

Mark: How’s the meeting going?

Delivered.

No reply.

Emily took another bite of pizza.

“She’s probably just stuck talking to someone. You know how those things go.”

Mark stared at the screen a second longer, then set the phone face-down on the table.

“Yeah. Probably.”

Ethan went back to his phone, the conversation about the bathroom already settling back into the quiet place in his head where he kept everything else.

Outside, the parking lot lights had come on. Rachel was almost to her Equinox when Hunter caught up.

“My parents are in Cabo until Sunday,” he said. “House is empty.”

Rachel stopped with her keys in her hand.

“And you’re telling me that why?”

“Because the last two times didn’t feel like enough for either of us.”

She stared at him. The first time had been rushed and angry. The second time had been quieter, guiltier. Both times she’d sworn it wouldn’t happen again.

“I’m still mad at you,”

she said.

“I know.”

“You’re still the reason my son walks around like he’s waiting for the next hit.”

“I know that too.”

Hunter’s voice stayed calm.

“There’s a Walgreens a couple blocks from here. We should stop.😏”

Rachel frowned.

“For what?🤔”

“Baby oil.😎😉”

She let out a short, disbelieving laugh.

“You’re serious right now?🙄😠”

“Yeah.😎🤷🏻‍♂️”

He stepped a little closer, lowering his voice.

“Last time you were bouncing on my dick screaming ‘daddy’ so loud I had to cover your mouth. Meanwhile your kid was limping around with a bruise on his thigh because I decided to teach him a lesson earlier that day. You still came. Twice.”

Rachel’s face burned. The shame hit hard and fast. She looked away, jaw tight.

“That only happened two times,”

she said, quieter now.

“You’re lucky you’re… built like that. That it’s that big and that pretty. That’s the only reason this even—”

“You told me yourself your husband’s dick is so small it needs a microscope. You said it while you were still sitting on mine. Don’t act like you don’t want more of it.”

Rachel’s breath left her in a shaky exhale. She hated how accurate he was. She hated that the words made her pulse jump instead of shut the whole thing down.

She looked at her car, then back at him.

“Get in,”

she said.

Walgreens was half-empty under the fluorescent lights. Rachel pulled into a spot near the front and turned the engine off. Hunter stayed in the passenger seat, one arm resting on the door.

She turned to him, still holding the keys.

“You can’t be serious.🤦🏻‍♀️You want to put baby oil all over my ass? What is this, some sick twisted porno shit for you?😒🙄”

Hunter’s mouth curved.

“Come on. You gotta let your wild side out a little. Plus I want to see how that big ass looks all oiled up.👅🍑 Shiny. Sliding all over me while you ride it.🍆”

Rachel stared at him.

“You’re such a dick.”

“A big one,”

he said without missing a beat.

She rolled her eyes hard, grabbed her bag, and got out of the car.

“Stay here.”

Inside, the personal care aisle felt too bright. Her heart was already beating too fast. She picked up a bottle of Johnson’s baby oil and dropped it in the blue plastic basket. Then, because she needed the cover, she added a pack of gum she didn’t want, a box of tampons for Emily, and a blue Gatorade she had no intention of drinking.

At the register, the cashier was maybe twenty, skinny, with a patchy attempt at a beard and acne along his jaw. He scanned the oil first and glanced up at her chest before he could stop himself.

“You, uh… finding everything okay tonight?”

he asked, trying for casual.

Rachel barely looked at him.

“Yeah. Fine.”

He tried again while bagging the items.

“You don’t look like the usual late-night crowd. You sure you don’t need help carrying anything out?”

“I’m good,”

she said flatly, tapping her card.

He got the message and went quiet.

Outside, Hunter was leaning against the Equinox again, scrolling his phone. He glanced at the white plastic bag when she walked up, then at her face.

She unlocked the doors.

“Get in.”

As she started the car, the guilt sat heavy in her stomach. Mark had already texted twice. Ethan and Emily were home waiting for her like it was any other night. She was going to have to invent something believable by the time she pulled into the driveway — traffic, a long conversation with another parent, something that bought her another hour. Something that covered the fact that she was about to let her son’s bully pour baby oil on her ass and fuck her for the third time.

She pulled out of the parking lot without looking at Hunter.

He didn’t need to say anything. The bag sat between them like a decision already made.

Hunter’s kitchen was quiet and clean. Dark cabinets, stainless appliances, a bowl of fruit that looked purely decorative. Rachel set her bag and the white Walgreens bag on the counter and just stood there for a second, both hands flat on the granite.

“This is the third time,🤦🏻‍♀️”

she said.

Hunter leaned against the opposite counter, arms loosely crossed.

“I can count.😉”

“I keep telling myself I’m going to stop. Then I end up here.😔”

“You’re here because you want to be.😈🍆”

Rachel turned on him, voice low and sharp.

“I’m here because I can’t seem to stay away from the same person who’s making my kid’s life harder.🥺Do you get how fucked up that is? It’s already past seven. I was supposed to be home an hour ago. My husband is texting me. My kids are waiting. And I’m standing in your kitchen with baby oil like some desperate cliché.😣😞”

Hunter didn’t flinch.

“Yeah. I get it.”

She exhaled hard and looked away. The refrigerator hummed. Somewhere deeper in the house a clock ticked. Every second she stayed made the lie she would have to tell later bigger.

She thought about grabbing her bag and walking out. She almost did.

Then Hunter reached down, unbuttoned his jeans, and pushed them down along with his black Calvin Klein compression briefs in one motion. His cock sprang free — thick, heavy, already hard, a full 7.5 inches with a flushed, perfect head. It looked carved. Like something off a Greek statue, only warm and real and pointing straight at her.

Rachel’s mouth went dry.

She hated how much she loved the sight of it. Mark’s dick was small. Shrimp small. Even when he was fully hard it barely filled her. She had never said the word “microscope” out loud until the second time she was on top of Hunter, and the comparison still sat in her chest like a betrayal.

Guilt flooded her so hard it made her stomach turn. She felt like she was going to hell. Like every choice she was making was carving something permanent out of her marriage and her relationship with her son.

And still she didn’t leave.

Hunter wrapped a hand around himself once, slow, just to show her.

“You keep staring.😉”

Rachel’s voice came out rough.

“You’re such an asshole.😞”

“And you’re still here.😈”

She closed the distance first. Grabbed the front of his shirt and kissed him hard, angry at him and angrier at herself. Hunter kissed her back like he’d been waiting for the break in her resolve. His hands went to her jeans, popping the button, dragging the zipper down. He shoved them over her hips along with her thong until they dropped to her ankles. She stepped out of them without breaking the kiss.

“Take your clothes off.😈”

Rachel looked at him.

“All of it,🍑”

he said.

“Bra. Thong. Everything. Now.👅”

Something in his tone made her pulse jump. She hesitated only a second before pulling the white top over her head. Her heavy tits settled free. She unhooked her bra and let it drop, then shoved her jeans and thong down together and stepped out of them. She stood completely naked in the middle of his kitchen, heart hammering.

Hunter’s eyes moved over her slowly.

“Good. Now grab the oil.😜”

Rachel pulled the Johnson’s bottle from the bag.

“Pour it on your ass,”

he instructed.

“I want to watch you rub it in. All over that big ass and your pussy.🍑”

Her face burned, but she did it. She squeezed a long stream of baby oil onto the upper curve of her ass and started spreading it with both hands — slow, deliberate circles over the thick, round flesh, working it down between her cheeks, then lower. She rubbed the oil over her pussy, sliding her fingers between her lips, coating her clit and the entrance of her hole until everything glistened under the kitchen lights.

Hunter watched the entire time, eyes dark.

Hunter poured oil into his own palm and stroked himself slowly, making the entire length shine. Then he stepped closer.

“Your turn. Both hands.”

Rachel wrapped both hands around his cock and started stroking him, feeling the thick veins and the solid weight of it. The oil made her palms slide effortlessly from the base to the head and back down again. Hunter’s breath left him in a low sound of approval.

He reached between her legs while she stroked him and started rubbing her clit in tight, slick circles. Two fingers slid lower and pushed into her pussy, working in and out while his thumb kept pressure on her clit.

“Already soaked,”

he muttered.

“You can tell yourself you’re only here because you’re weak, but your pussy is dripping for the same dick that’s been making your son’s life hell.”

Rachel’s hips twitched forward against his hand. The guilt was crushing — Mark’s unanswered texts, Ethan’s quiet face at the dinner table, the knowledge that she was about to let this happen for a third time — but her body was already past the point of listening.

Hunter pulled his fingers out of her and nodded toward the living room.

“Couch. Now.”

The living room was dim except for the soft glow of the massive 75-inch LG smart TV on the wall, still on the home screen. Hunter lay back on the big sectional, cock standing thick and glistening upright.

Rachel climbed on top of him, facing the TV. She reached down, lined the fat head of his cock up with her pussy, and sank down in one long, continuous drop until he was buried all the way inside her — deep enough that she felt him pressing against her cervix.

A broken sound left her throat.

She started riding him in a hard squat, thighs burning, oil making every downward slam wet and filthy. Her big ass bounced and jiggled with every movement. Hunter’s hands gripped her waist, but he let her set the pace at first.

“That’s it,😈🍆”

he said, voice low and dominant.

“Bounce on it. Show me how much you needed this dick.😤🤫”

Rachel switched angles, leaning forward into a classic cowgirl, grinding her clit against him on every downstroke. Then she sat up straight again and went back to the deep, punishing squats, taking every thick inch to the base.

“Your husband’s little shrimp dick could never reach this deep,😈”

Hunter said, thrusting up to meet her.

“That’s why you keep coming back. Your pussy knows the difference.😎🍆”

Rachel moaned, ashamed of how hard the words made her clench around him.

He sat up suddenly, wrapped an arm around her waist, and flipped their positions without pulling out. In one smooth motion he had her on her hands and knees on the living room rug. He mounted her from behind, one hand locking on her hip, the other pressing between her shoulder blades so her chest lowered toward the floor.

Then he started fucking her.

Hard. Fast. Deep.

Every thrust drove his cock straight against her g-spot and beyond, the head kissing her cervix over and over. The wet slap of his hips against her oiled ass filled the room.

“Say it,😈”

he ordered.

Rachel’s fingers curled into the rug.

“Daddy…😫”

“Louder.😡”

“Daddy…😫 fuck, daddy…🥴”

Hunter grinned and pounded her harder, completely in control.

“That’s right. Scream it while you take the same dick that made your weak little son cry in the bathroom. Mark’s at home wondering where his wife is, and you’re on your knees getting your pussy ruined.”

Rachel came hard with a broken cry, her whole body shaking as her pussy clamped down around him in tight, rhythmic pulses. Hunter didn’t slow down. He fucked her through it, chasing his own release, until he suddenly pulled out.

“On your knees. Tits out.👿”

Rachel turned and dropped to her knees in front of him, chest pushed forward. She wrapped both hands around his slick, throbbing cock and stroked him fast. Hunter’s head tipped back. A few seconds later he groaned low and started cumming — thick ropes of hot cum shooting across her tits, painting her nipples and the soft valley between them.

Rachel kept stroking him until the last pulse stopped.

For a moment the only sound was both of them breathing hard.

She looked up at him, cum still dripping down the curve of her breasts, and said quietly,

“This is the last time, Hunter.🫩”

Hunter looked down at her, still catching his breath, and gave that same unbothered half-smile.

“Yeah, right,😎” 

he said. 

“We’ll see.😜”

At the Smith house, the kitchen still smelled faintly of Papa John’s pizza. Ethan stood at the sink rinsing plates with the water running longer than necessary. Emily moved around him, stacking clean plates and putting the leftover slices into a container. Mark leaned against the island with his phone in his hand, frowning at the screen.

He typed another message.

Mark: Rachel?

Mark: You almost home?

Delivered.

No reply.

He checked the time. 7:26 p.m.

“She’s not answering,🤷🏻‍♂️😕”

he said, more to himself than to the kids.

Emily closed the fridge.

“She probably went to Target after the meeting. You know how she gets.😄 She says she’s only going in for one thing and walks out with half the store.🤷🏻‍♀️”

Mark didn’t smile.

“Meeting ended at five. It’s been over two hours.🤨🤔”

Ethan shut the water off but didn’t turn around. He kept his eyes on the sink.

Mark set the phone down and tried to shake the uneasy feeling.

“Anyway. World Series starts next week. Game one is on Fox. I’m taking PTO Thursday and Friday so I can catch the afternoon games at O’Malley’s with Chris and Darnell. You know how it gets in there when the Dodgers are playing.”

Emily’s face lit up a little.

“Maya’s dad is doing a big cookout that same weekend. He already told her she could invite people. I might go for a bit if we’re not traveling for cheer.”

“That’ll be good for you,”

Mark said.

“Get out of the house, see your friends.”

He glanced at Ethan’s back.

“What about you? You got any plans, or you just gonna stay buried in those AP books?”

Ethan finally turned, drying his hands on a towel.

“I’ve got a calc test Monday. And a history paper.”

“You’re already on honor roll,”

Mark said.

“You can take a night off.”

Ethan shrugged. The truth sat heavier than any homework. Every weekday was the same slow dread. Five days straight of walking the same halls as Hunter. Five days of wondering if today was the day something else happened in a bathroom or a stairwell or behind the gym. He could get straight A’s for the rest of senior year and it still wouldn’t change the fact that he felt trapped inside his own school with no real way out.

Mark watched him for a second longer, then picked the phone back up and unlocked it again. Still nothing from Rachel.

“I’m serious,”

he said.

“It’s not like her to go this long without at least a thumbs-up or a ‘be home soon.”

Emily leaned on the counter.

“Dad. It’s Target. Or she ran into someone from the PTA and they’re talking her ear off. You know how those moms are. She’ll walk in any minute with a bag of stuff we don’t need and an excuse about how it was on sale.”

Mark exhaled through his nose and set the phone face-down on the island.

“Yeah. You’re probably right.”

But the uneasy feeling didn’t leave.

Ethan hung the towel on the oven handle and quietly left the kitchen, heading upstairs without another word. Emily started wiping down the table. Mark stayed where he was, arms crossed, eyes drifting back to the dark screen of his phone every few seconds while the house settled into the kind of quiet that only happened when someone who was supposed to be there still wasn’t.

To be continue…