Buffy Beaten update

Conrad padded back to the bed, having gotten a good look at Buffy and Willow. So, this was the girl he would have to keep alive for the next three hundred and sixty-five days, and the friend who would also have to be dealt with. He hadn’t expected them to be so attractive. It was useful to the plan, of course, but it also promised to be… fun. Conrad felt his manhood stiffening as he considered them. It was standing straight up from his groin when Joyce came back into the room.

“Hi, honey,” he said casually.

Joyce gawked at the lewd way his erection presented itself, shooting up into the air until it almost seemed to aim threateningly at her. Then she laughed.

“I see you’ve been waiting up for me. Didn’t I tire you out at all?”

“What can I say? I have a thing for blondes.” Conrad smiled at her. “Come to bed.”

“Not yet,” Joyce teased, walking to the vanity. “Let’s see how long you can keep it up.”

Her nightgown flowing over her ample curves—the matronly figure Buffy had hoped to grow into countless times—Joyce sat down in front of the mirror and combed her hair. It gave her time to think and her thoughts were still as unsettled as they had been while she’d washed up and put on her nightgown. Conrad’s lovemaking had really knocked her for a loop.

Between her daughter and all Buffy’s… issues, Joyce had halfway resigned herself to chastity. A prolonged relationship seemed impossible and she just wasn’t the type to do one-night stands or swinging or anything else that was less than monogamous. And yet… she’d met Conrad at a work function, one of the gallery’s chief contributors. He’d pursued her and even though it was so unlike her, she’d had a fling. Then another fling. It got to the point where she was letting him do things to her on her lunch break, like she was a teenager or something. And now, well… he was spending the night.

How could she say no to him? He was still pursuing her. His manhood was huge, massive, erect. She wondered how long it had been like that, how long he’d been aching for her. And her still able to feel his previous rock-hard erection pounding into her, forcing her to so much bliss that she didn’t know if she could take it—

Someone knocked at the door. Joyce stood up, gaping. She gave Conrad a look and he pulled the sheets over himself, though they still tented over his erection in a way that somehow made it more appealing than before. Absent the brutal masculinity of its sheer size, it was so very tempting. Joyce had to pull her eyes away from him as she went to the door. She cracked it open to see Buffy standing there.

“Hey, mom, I was—I couldn’t find my phone,” Buffy said haltingly.

Joyce stood between Buffy and her view of the bed. “I don’t know where it is. I’m sorry, Buffy, but I can’t help you find it. You should keep better track of your things.”

“Yeah, mom, I know.” She started beating a retreat…

“Buffy, wait.” Joyce stepped outside the bedroom, shutting the door behind her. “I know you don’t need your phone at this hour. I’m having company over—I’m sorry you haven’t been properly introduced—“

“No, it’s fine,” Buffy insisted. “I’ll just… go to bed.”

“We’ll talk about it in the morning,” Joyce said, nodding as if they’d come to some agreement. “It’s not a big deal.”

“Okay,” Buffy said.

“I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Yeah.”

Joyce slipped back into the bedroom and eased the door shut, just closing it when Conrad pulled the straps of the nightgown down her shoulders.

“Conrad!” she squeaked, dissolving into a giggle as he worked the garment off her body.

He ogled her: the full breasts, the coffee-colored nipples, even the shimmering blondeness of her pubic hair. Joyce’s superb physique gave her daughter one hell of a target to shoot for. They were like two sides of the same coin—ripe but unrefined youth and mature, perfected experience. How could any man be contented with just one?

“Bed,” Conrad said hoarsely, and led her there with a controlling hand on her shoulder. The touch of assertiveness only turned Joyce on more. She’d had to play the dowdy authority figure for too long. Now she was just a girl again. This—this must’ve been what Buffy felt like in bed.

He didn’t let her get into the bed. He embraced her fiercely, kissing her, demanding her hot little tongue inside his mouth. She enjoyed feeling him suck on it was his hands ran over her sleek body. He pulled away from her, sitting back on the bed, her tongue lapsing out of his mouth. Conrad seated himself, his knees wide apart. 

“Go down on me,” Conrad said. “Suck me until you swallow.”

Joyce hesitated a moment, struggling to conceal her misgivings. She simply hadn’t blown many men. Buffy’s father had never liked it. She didn’t know if she could do a good job. But she couldn’t refuse him.

“Alright,” she said.

She got down on her knees. His erect cock was so long that it rose above her head, a menacing tower of flesh. To her frightened eyes it looked as thick as her wrist, the big purple head leaking sticky precum. Joyce thought of taking that big thing in her mouth; she had no idea how to do it without choking.

But she was dating Conrad. He was her man. She loved him, she should please him. She tried not to think about prudish, silly things like sex being dirty and men being beasts. She took his cock in her hand and brought it down so the head was against her lips. She licked it—she enjoyed doing that and he enjoyed it too. Somehow it didn’t seem as odd as taking his cock in her mouth. 

She ran her tongue up and down his rigid length. Conrad sighed loudly, sitting above her, enjoying himself. Wondering if Buffy could give an expert blowjob like her mother. The little Slayer seemed so curious that she’d probably have some real enthusiasm going for her. But there was a bittersweet touch of rapine to cajoling Joyce along that made it nice and wicked—all the sweeter when Joyce lost control of herself and begged for his cum. 

Her wet tongue flittered over his trembling hard-on, going down to tickle his swollen balls, up to swish over the dripping head and mop up all the precum she could get. Conrad moaned heavily. “That’s it, Joyce,” he said blissfully. “Lube it up nice and wet so it can go all the way down your throat.”

A thrill of nervousness ran through Joyce’s body. She’d known he wouldn’t be content with having her lick him, but he was actually going to throat her now! How long did she have before her lips was open and his big cock was filling her mouth? God, it had felt like he’d stretched her cunt out to get in down there… would he dislocate her jaw next?

***

Buffy stood in front of the shut door like a door-to-door salesman who’d gotten rejection slammed in her face. She didn’t feel tired enough to go to bed—and she damn sure didn’t feel comfortable enough with this situation to leave her mother alone, defenseless. Something about it pinged weirdly in her stomach. There was a darkly masculine energy to the man that pervaded the house, even without seeing him—his gruff voice echoed weirdly out of the bedroom, even muffled. She had to see what was going on. If he tried anything, she would bust in there and end him. 

She ducked her head to the door’s keyhole and looked inside. She could see the bed clearly. Joyce and her lover—she’d called him Conrad, right?—were standing next to it. Joyce was naked; Buffy gawked enviously at her lush figure. It was enough to make her wonder if boys liked her for her or because they could smell somehow that one day she’d be that voluptuous. 

Conrad was embracing her… his cock was up and it went between her legs, so stiff and so big that Buffy could see it protruding out underneath Joyce’s ass. That made her feel envious too. It seemed unbelievable that her middle-aged mother could find a guy like that and she, the prom queen-in-waiting, was dateless and alone. 

They kept kissing. Buffy got impatient. She wanted to see some action—that is, if Conrad was going to do something, she wanted him to go on and do it so she could stop him. She certainly couldn’t break down the door and rush in to stop their lovemaking just because… because…

Conrad sat down on the bed, his reddened prick pointing up at the ceiling. Buffy felt a jolt of mingled nervousness and excitement. He might as well be trying to choke Joyce if he were telling her to swallow that thing. But damn, if she got that into her pussy, Buffy could just imagine how it would feel.

No—actually she couldn’t.

Joyce licked at his cock. Buffy felt so bemused she almost physically shrugged. It was so… unambitious. As much as he was enjoying it, Conrad seemed impatient too. Buffy wondered what he was waiting for. Surely he didn’t really expect Joyce to take all that in her mouth. It’d be halfway to her stomach before she swallowed it all!

“Open your mouth wide, Joyce,” Conrad said in a deep, husky voice. “Show me how much you can swallow.”

Joyce hesitated to do as Conrad said. She bent over his cock, shiny and slippery with her own abortive licking. Her lips parted, then closed, like she didn’t know quite what to do. Buffy didn’t understand what was going on. She could at least suck the head. And finally, Joyce did that—closing her red lips around the huge knob of Conrad’s erection and hollowing her cheeks with suction. A few more inches traveled into Joyce’s mouth; Buffy could see her chin lower appropriately. She leaned closer to the keyhole, trying to see more.

***

Joyce felt the same mix of dread and excitement as her daughter. But Conrad was shivering with ecstasy—she wanted to give him more, she wanted to make him feel good. She couldn’t allow herself to hesitate. She brought her mouth down along every engorged inch of his member, steamrolling her own tongue down against the bottom of her mouth. 

She took in all she could, gargling on the intrusion into her throat, dry-heaving as her stomach rebelled at the prospect of invasion, but still stuffing him between her lips until she felt his balls touching her chin, pulsating with their own infernal life. Then it was all worth it—she was pleasing him, making him happy.

“Yeah, yeah,” Conrad panted blissfully. “Take it all… suck me…”

Joyce sucked, feeling his balls swelling as they pressed tightly against her chin. It was awkward at first, but soon she was drawing on Conrad’s shaft with a powerful rhythm, sucking hard, making him feel it.

“Oh fuck yes,” Conrad breathed. “That’s good, Joyce… yeah… suck… I don’t want a boring suburban homemaker… I want a dirty whore… suck me like a dirty whore…”

Joyce seemed to keen with pleasure as she sucked harder. Conrad knew she would react that way. She would hesitate, she would take hours to mouth his cock, but once it was in, she would suck him like she desperately needed his cum. Which she did.

“Yeah… you are a little slut, aren’t you?” he asked hoarsely. “Just the kind of girl I like to fuck. I’m gonna use your mouth, slut. I’ll put all my dirty cum in there… gonna give you fucking gallons…”

Joyce was pleased that she was satisfying him, but she couldn’t get over how she had a cock in her mouth. It felt so wrong having it in there—she really did feel like a dirty whore, just as he had called her. She bobbed her head up and down on his member, felt her lips roll over every veiny inch of his shaft, and all of it made her feel slutty, whorish. She kept thinking of how it would end—a choking deluge of his seed traveling down her throat. She felt nauseous at the thought. Then it would be in her stomach, warm, heavy. She’d feel it down there for days…

But it would all be worth it if she made Conrad happy. She loved him, was truly fortunate to be his woman. She sucked him harder, faster, like she could make him feel her love for him. 

“Hnngh!” Conrad bawled. His cock was on fire, the flames stoked by Joyce’s wet lips sliding up and down his manhood. She really was a good little whore. He hoped it would run in the family.