Fear Of Godson

Sherry and Ray took Ethan in after his parents died. Ray kept saying the kid gave him the creeps, always hovering, always watching. Sherry rolled her eyes and told him to relax. One afternoon they walked through the door and every framed photo on the wall was in pieces, wedding shots shattered across the rug. Ray demanded answers. Ethan just lifted a shoulder and blamed the dog. Ray didn’t buy it, but Sherry told him to drop it. Then the dog ended up dead while Ethan was walking it. Ray went off. Sherry had enough. She accused him of turning every weird coincidence into a plot and told him to shut up. He packed a bag and left without another word. Now Sherry’s alone, wiping her eyes in the kitchen when Ethan steps in behind her. He rubs her shoulders, murmurs that he’s there, and his hands slide lower. She doesn’t stop him. His mouth finds hers, hot and sure, and the next thing she knows his shirt is on the floor and her bra is somewhere across the room. She climbs on top, tits swinging over his face as they turn into a sixty-nine, her lips wrapped around him while his tongue works between her thighs. Ray’s note is still on the counter, and Ethan’s tongue keeps working like he planned this from day one.