If there was a prize for the highest number of inappropriate thoughts about my son’s girlfriend, I'd be on the podium.

As I potter in the garden in the most pleasant British summer since the last one, I'm acutely aware of Molly watching me from the patio. All three of them are there—Molly, Aaron and Astrid—sipping drinks and chatting.

Digging up yet another dandelion and hearing the pop of the tap root snapping rather than pulling out cleanly is indicative of how deep Molly has burrowed into my head. And how close I'd been to losing control and burying my tongue in her teenage charms. 

But one thing wasn't right.

She stopped me. When I crept my head in, resolve at an all-time low, prepared to accept the consequences of adultery and feast on her little wet cunt, she had placed a fingertip on my forehead and prevented my progress. Maybe Astrid was right. Maybe she is only in it for the tease and has no intention of going through with anything beyond.

In which case, am I off the hook? Can I be bolder and meet her games head-on? Play a little harder, safe in the knowledge that neither of us will let things go too far. Give back some of the torment.

What if I was to grip her wrist and shove her against the nearest wall? Bring my breath to her ear and whisper how I'm going to fuck her to within a second of cumming inside her. How I'm going to split her tight folds over and over as she slaps her hands to the plaster and begs for my big dick to ravage her wet slit. I’ll growl that she'll love being spanked for daring to think she could waltz into our lives and upend them. Maybe strength is the key to quashing the fantasies? She might respond well to the discipline and realise I'm her equal, and she'll move on to find another toy.

But… do I want her to move on? If I'm being honest, am I enjoying being a pawn in her twisted realm? Playing the powerless husband with everything to lose as she teases and seduces and gets both of us off. She said Aaron was okay with her acting a slutty nymph, and it formed part of their roleplay, so maybe I should be okay with it too. Not sure if he knows she's trying it on with his dad, but he's not stupid.

But what if… what if in a moment of frenzied lust, neither Molly nor I maintain our control? What if the tease turns physical and I pin her to the wall, grab that tantalizing pink mane of hers and yank it down as the breath bursts from her body? Ram my cock deep into her teenage twat and show her that actions have consequences. Drill her with savage abandon as payback for the last week of incessant torment she's put me through. What then?

Astrid's words came floating back through my mind: 

“If you so much as touch her, I'll run you both through… And if you do, Andrew Tanning, you are fucked. Eff yew see kay fucked.”

I shiver despite the heat of the day, and dig up another dandelion. It offers resistance and I dig around it deeper to try and free the entire thing. Apply pressure. Pull... and it snaps, leaving the tail end of the root in the ground to grow again.

Fuck. Even the weeds have me sussed.

Glancing to the patio, I spy Molly. She is facing me, flanked by the others, engaged in conversation with Astrid. At least, above the table, that is the impression. Beneath, it is a different story. She has one hand in her lap, fingers idly brushing and stroking the centre of her tight lycra shorts. The shorts that are stained on the inside with her arousal and my cum.

I try not to gawp. Pull up a few more weeds, glancing her way after I dump each one in the bucket. She's parted her feet a little. Eased those trim thighs wider and is scratching her clit and gingerly rubbing her pussy through the shiny fabric. Her boyfriend and my wife seem oblivious. 

Pausing to rearrange my stiffening cock, I turn my back on her. A sign I'm not going to play more games. I have too much to lose. Every weed that lands in the bucket, every moment I'm not facing her preys on my mind.

What is she doing? Is she idly scuffing the shorts? Pressing them against her slit so my cum massages her shaved entrance? Teasing herself to see how far she can push it before she has to make excuses and scurry to the bathroom to finish off? How is she keeping her arousal in check above the table? Avoiding suspicion? Is she wearing a deadpan expression, innocence incarnate? Or do her cheeks, dappled with that band of freckles, flush ever so slightly? Are there other telltale leaks? Her mouth parting as her fingers roam the surface of her shorts. That mischievous twinkle to her captivating blue irises. Damn you, Molly. Damn you.

I work my way up the next row of fruit trees, then double back. Wipe a bead of sweat from my brow. Is that from exertion or desperation? Don't look. Don't fucking look. I tug at another dandelion. It snaps off in my hand. I look up. She has an elbow on the table, gazing into Aaron's eyes as he talks about some game design module he's looking forward to at uni, but her other hand is out of sight. Completely covered by the taut material that deforms under her touch as she masturbates. My jaw drops.

Ffffuck.

Astrid is reading. Some bodice ripper, no doubt, about how some aristocratic scoundrel is seduced by the hired help. And yet two feet to her right, the very embodiment of seduction is taking place between her own husband and a teenage siren.

The trees rustle in the faint breeze but it's not enough to temper the heat growing between us. My cock firms fully as I project what's happening beneath her shorts. That delicious, sticky centre oozing sweet juices that further stain the fabric. Her fingertips will be coated in the nectar that she'd wiped across my lips earlier, her slick labia parting as her arousal grows.

Eff. Yew. See. Kay.

I swear her nipples have hardened against the stretched crop top. As she leans back and spreads her legs another few inches, the sunlight catches her belly piercing and I imagine kissing my way from it. Nuzzling her shorts, my stubble dampening from her juices. Rolling my hands up her soft thighs. Tugging the tiny shorts down as she arches in the seat to assist.

Her sexy, bald pussy would slide into view like some tantalising, succulent fruit before it's covered by my mouth and I lance my tongue inside her as she grips my hair and encourages my wet exploration. I know the sort of noises she'd make, having heard her in the throes of passion the past few nights.

Would she whisper my name? Would she scream it if nobody else was in the house? Would she moan and hump against my lips and hold me captive in her soaked, pink haven?

The outline of her wandering fingers is clear against the elasticity of the garment clinging to her supple thighs. But now she's more exposed, Aaron notices. Stares at her and grins.

Not wanting to risk being caught, I return to the gardening, slyly catching sidelong glimpses as she slightly more openly torments her boyfriend, who is trying to keep up the pretence of regular conversation to avoid alerting Astrid.

A few minutes later, he makes an excuse to go inside and she follows. I know they're headed to the bedroom.

I finish the weeding with just my thoughts and frequent hard-ons as company, then head inside to wash my hands. Molly and Aaron are in the kitchen. She wears a just fucked glow, and tosses me a knowing smirk. Maybe they didn't even make it as far as the bedroom. The thoughts of her bucking against the kitchen units or draped over the stairs as she's being pounded swells my poor, overstimulated cock. Just as well it's not a foot long or I'd have blacked out with the blood loss to my brain every few minutes.

Astrid joins us and we sit down for a game of cards. Molly does her best to draw me in with stunts like leaning across the table to add cards to my set and giving me an eyeful of creamy cleavage as she counts out three cards. “Jack. Jack, and,” her eyes flick to mine. “Jack.”

When she sits back down, her tits wobble and I try not to whimper.

Being fiercely competitive, Astrid wins hands down. Part of me wonders if she's tolerating Molly's behaviour because of the healthy competition for my affection; twisted as that may seem. Or maybe because when Molly’s around winding me up, I have a voracious appetite for sex, which I take out on Astrid. The reignition of the marital spark has certainly given us energy. She's stepped up her kinks and has let me take over in the bedroom and it's driving me wild.

Molly mostly behaves herself during lunch; perhaps being boned by Aaron has taken the edge off. They go for a walk and I continue my Jack Reacher novel in the armchair.

When they return, they disappear upstairs and there's plenty of giggling. Until it stops. Ten minutes later Aaron comes down with Molly in tow.

“Dad.” I put the book down. “Just had a call from Tom. His folks have announced they're splitting up and he's in bits. I'm going over there.”

“Jeez. On a Sunday afternoon, too. What's wrong with people?”

“I know, right.”

“I always thought they were solid.”

“So did I. Apparently his dad cheated and she kicked him out.”

My gaze flicks to Molly. “That’s complicated.”

When Astrid enters, she consoles our son. “It's the right thing to do. Go be with your friend. We’ll figure out logistics.”

“Thanks. I’d take Molly home but she's on the opposite side of the city to him.”

“Your dad will do it, won't you?”

She raises an eyebrow and gives a subtle nod, indicating I don’t get a say. “I… uhh. Is that a g… okay. Sure, I guess. If Molly is fine with that?”

The teenager nods. Astrid beams. “Good. That's settled then.”

Before returning to the kitchen, she throws me a strange look. Halfway between contentment and consternation. It takes me a moment to realise she's doing this as a test. Putting me in harm’s way to see if I can keep it together, as I promised earlier.

Wily fox. A dangerous game, but if she wants to play it, I'm in.

Aaron grabs a bag and sets off in his beaten up Fiesta. I fetch my car keys, put on shoes and back the Volvo out of the garage onto the drive. Molly is thanking Astrid for the hospitality when I return.

“Ready to go?”

She nods and skips out, her backpack bouncing. I hug Astrid. “What’s this about, love?”

It takes a moment for her to answer. “Trust. If I’m wrong, every piece of kit you own will be on eBay for 50p when you get back.”

I shiver. “Won't be long.”

The atmosphere in the car is a little tense as the leafy suburb slips away and we join the bypass.

Since this morning, Molly has added a thin black choker to her attire but is otherwise all tits, legs and allure. She breaks the silence. “I hope Aaron's friend will be okay.”

“I expect so. It's not pleasant but it happens all the time.”

“I guess.”

We lapse into silence. I overtake a Kia. She turns to me. “I'm not a bad person, Andrew. You know that, right?”

I clear my throat. “You're young. I get it.”

“Mmm. I'm not trying to break you up or anything. I'm just… just horny all the time.”

“Must be terrible.”

She pouts. “I'm serious.”

“Have you sought help?”

An infectious little giggle precedes her arching clear of the seat. In one fluid motion, she peels her cum-stained shorts to her ankles and I nearly stave into the central reservation. She touches herself. “Why? Are you offering?”

“Jesus, Molly. I meant professional help. If it's a problem.”

Stroking her puffy little slit, she purrs, “It's not a problem all the time.” Even above the road noise, the clicks of wetness filter into my brain and I can't resist the occasional glance. Her fingers glint in the low sun flickering through the trees.

“This is insane. It can't go on.”

“Oh. Why? Are you tempted?”

“I'm only human.”

Her strokes broaden. “Aww, do I make that yummy big dick of yours hard?” Her mouth falls open and she gasps. Exhales. “Do you want to… touch me? Lose control.”

I gnash my teeth. “Not of the car.”

“Sure? I bet you could make us both cum before we even get to my house. Or maybe you’d prefer to wait? My parents aren't due back for a few hours. You could come in. Follow me up to my room. Then cum in… me. Nobody would know.”

Her finger circles faster. Slips into her folds and withdraws soaked. “Would you like to show me who's boss? To use that huge dick for what it's intended.”

“Molly…”

“Yes, Andrew?”

“You're making it very hard—”

“Good.”

“—to focus.”

“So pull in. Lean over and lick my tiny pink slit until I cum. Pleeease. I want your tongue in me. Then your cock stretching me.”

I grip the wheel. Stare dead ahead as she masturbates. Toes off her trainers. Lets her shorts pool in the footwell. She lifts her furthest foot up on the dash, half turning towards me.

Don't look. Don't look…

Fuck. Fuck, she has such a pretty pussy.

Her moans elevate. “I know you're tempted. Feel how wet I am. How hot my tight little pussy is.”

Don't do it. Don't do it.

She tips her head back. “Ohhh. You're strong, Andrew Tanning. I'll give you that. It's the sort of strength I want pinning me to the car door. By my throat as I gasp each time your huge rod splits my tiny cunt.”

The squelches of her pussy fill the space. The car seat will need a valet before I return, and I momentarily panic that Astrid might buy a blacklight off the web and discover Molly’s juices infusing the fabric.

“Mmmm,” she groans. “I'd like that. Need that. Or maybe you'd rather I suck your monster cock?”

She reaches across. Brushes my forearm and trails fingertips up, across to my chest, circles a nipple, then up until her dripping fingers rest under my nose. Her scent catches and I swell once more in my jeans. Become harder when she traces the outline of my lips.

Now the blacklight will discover her juices on me. God. I’m dead.

With my tongue, I trace the path her finger took. Sample the forbidden. Her hand drops to my crotch and I swerve, only just regaining control as she draws around the outline that bulges the denim.

“Concentrate on the road, Andrew. Try not to let my hot mouth around your huge shaft distract you.”

I mumble, “Doubt you could manage it all,” and instantly regret it.

Her mischievous cadence follows the giggle. “Is that a challenge?”

“Forget it.”

“Can Astrid take every inch?”

I stay silent. Grip the wheel and ignore her hand massaging the steel that's trying to disprove Levi's marketing campaigns about the unrippable strength of their products.

“I bet she can. I like Astrid.” She strokes my hardness. “Really like her.”

“Jesus,” I groan. “Is nothing sacred with you?”

“Being in an all-girl dorm did have material benefits after dark. Plus all that Catholic guilt growing up. No wonder I'm a raging ball of need.” She lets out a breathy sigh. “Do you think I could seduce your wife too?”

Not wishing to give her another challenge, I keep quiet.

“Bet I could. I love the taste of a sexy pussy, grinding against my mouth. Is she shaved? No, of course not. All natural. That's hot. But I bet she'd let you shave her if I asked. If I... watched. You're so good at it.”

Her fingertip traces the ridge of my cock and ends at the zipper. She grips the tab. “Don't get me wrong. I'm all about the cock. I adore a big, hard,” she inches the zip down and I hold my breath, “throbbing, fat dick.” Another inch. “There's something about being under the spell of a man who’s at the end of his tether. Who’s on the cusp of,” the zip reaches the bottom and my bulge surfaces, “snapping.”

The cars I overtook pull around me as I exhale and slow the vehicle a little. I'm trying to maintain a reasonable, safe road speed because I know if I stop, that will be it. I'll be on her. In her, pounding that sweet pussy over the bonnet of the car.

“Fuck, Molly. Don't. We can't. Astrid. She’ll… know.”

Molly snakes a fingertip inside my jeans. Scratches the tip of my hard-on. Sing-songs: “I won't tell if you don't.”

I bite my lip. Consider. Steel. In more ways than one. Drop my hand to my lap and grab her wrist. Remove it and place it over her wet centre. “I just… can't right now.”

Her reaction surprises me. She grins. Touches herself. “You're a force to be reckoned with, aren't you?” She dips a finger inside. Circles her clit. Two. Circles. Three. Sweeps harder, breaths deepening. “See how wet it makes me, knowing how hard you'll fall when you eventually cave?”

She's not wrong. On both counts. I can almost sense the end of my resolve, dangling by a silk thread like the glossy strands of cum that ooze from her slit and stretch between it and her fingertips.

Stay strong.

Between her gasps, a little chuckle escapes. “Maybe it'll be fun to see who caves first: you or Astrid.”

My disbelief is difficult to disguise. “You wouldn't.”

“Wouldn't I?”

I shake my head and mutter, “Jesus, you probably would.”

Molly finger fucks her slick pussy. “Sure you don't want to touch me? I'm very juicy. And delicious.” To support her point, she sucks her fingers...