He opened the front door and closed it again as quietly as possible. He then walked gently through the large foyer, glancing first into the kitchen and then the living room, finding no one there and no lights on in any room. Suddenly he heard a noise coming from down the hall in the vicinity of the family room. His heart skipped a beat as he slowed his pace and tiptoed closer to the noise. There it was again. It sounded like moans of pleasure. He halted for a moment before moving again, feeling like a sneak in his own house. Turning to the side, he placed his back against the wall and inched forward. Then he squatted down and moved his head far enough out to look into the room. Like all the other rooms, the family room was dark. However, a fire was roaring in the fireplace throwing eerie shadows onto the walls. A sudden gasp caught in his throat. On the sofa were two people. One of them was his mother... or at least he thought it was; her outfit was like nothing he had ever seen her. She was at least a head shorter, even in heels, but she easily intimidated him. Smiling she reached out. Her fingers caressed the flimsy fabric of the apron, one hand sliding between his chest and a strap. He felt a sharp pinch as she tweaked his nipple. He kept looking past her, his eyes on Miss A's face. Her other hand slipped below the apron, cupping his balls. It startled him. His lashes fluttered, but he kept watching the woman whose green eyes caught his over the rim of her glass. He knew now that she owned him; there was no escape left because he had stopped looking for one. He would never be free of her again because he'd given up looking for freedom. Freedom abhorred him. It had become a dark and fearsome place, an abyss, an alien concept. But the thought of commitment still shocked him – the absoluteness of it. His mind spun. The hand found the limp shaft of his cock, squeezing it."You are right," Gigi said, addressing her friends. "He is quite sufficiently hung." She.
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