What in God’s name are my parents doing here?
Greta was confused and indecisive about what to do. Her mind was in a tailspin, travelling back in time and back once more to the present, and everything it told her was too crazy and inconclusive for her to regard as genuine. Her thoughts blended well with her insecurity. It was dawning on her the reality of things, even as she shook her head, wrestling the urge to accept what she had witnessed with the imagery her mind was painting for her.
Everything was starting to make sense: her husband, Jerome, and her mom did have an affair before he came onto her, or rather they still were. But why? And how come she hadn’t known of it? More importantly, did her dad know?
The least she could do was get some verifiable proof.
Greta left the comfort of the tree towards the condo with a determined will.
She slowed her steps when she came to the door and stopped to think through her actions. What would she say if she confronted them? How would she regard her mom or Jerome? Would this signal the end of their marriage? She looked back the way she had come, wondering if it wasn’t too late to turn back and make like none of this was happening. Possibly she could return to the suite, cry her eyes out, then make like she had seen nothing.
But still, she had to see; she needed to know the truth.
Her hands were shaky as she turned the door handle and to her surprise it opened for her. She peeped into the apartment and didn’t see anybody in the living room, then sneaked inside and quietly shut the door.
Noises were coming from beyond the corridor. Greta went in that direction with her heart was doing cartwheels in her chest. She recognised the gasping noise — the unmistakable sound of two people fucking — and knew what she was about to witness would undoubtedly change her married life.
She heard her mom’s unmistakable voice as she drew closer to the door where the noise of sex was coming from; her voice intermixed with that of Jerome’s. The door stood ajar to her left.
“… does my daughter fuck you the way I do, babe?”
“Not as good as you, bitch.”
“Aah! Yeah, smack that booty, babe. Go ahead, smack it once more.”
“Awwhhh! I love that. Ohhhh, I love it when you talk dirty to me.”
“You’re a dirty fucking bitch.”
“Oh yeah. I’m your dirty fucking bitch.”
“Yeah, you’re my bitch. You want me fucking you all the time.”
“Uh-huh. I’ve got more pussy for you, babe.”
The noise of the bedsprings squeaking from their combined weight punctuated their conversation. Greta stood by the doorway listening in on them, picturing their action seconds before she dared herself to look into the room. In her most profound imagination, Greta hoped nothing in her mind would alter her feelings towards what she expected to see happening in the room.
She was wrong.
Greta’s eyes grew large and her mouth went slack-jawed as she absorbed the sight of Eloise’s big buttock grinding up and down and then back and forth on Jerome’s cock. Jerome laid in the bed with his feet on the ground with his hands grasping Eloise’s arse cheeks as she rode him hard. Greta stood there staring at them in shocking disbelief. That was more outrageous than she thought. Never in a million years would she have believed this if someone had mentioned it to her. But here it was before her very eyes — her sweet husband fucking her mom… or was it the other way around?
She should be disgusted, except she wasn’t. To Greta’s overwhelming surprise, she found herself aroused by what she saw.
Jerome pulled himself up from the bed with his arms around Eloise, who continued humping his cock. It was at that moment he locked eyes with Greta. But if she expected a similar shock on his face for being discovered, she was once more wrong. He was smiling instead.
“Hi, darling,” said Jerome.
Eloise half turned to look at her daughter. Even she, too, didn’t seem surprised to see her.
“Greta!” she exclaimed. “About time you joined us, dear.”
Greta then came to her senses and ran from their sight. She made it to the living room, but stopped when she realised the TV was on — it hadn’t been so when she came in — and she wasn’t alone in the room.
Her dad, Gerald, sat on a couch staring at her. For a moment, Greta thought she was imagining things, and that he wasn’t real. Then he smiled, and she knew then it was him.
“How are you, Greta? I’m glad you came by.”
Greta probably would have fainted had her dad not come to hold her hand. She didn’t know whether to be afraid or get out of the condo, at least go somewhere to make sense of everything.
“Dad — ”
“I know,” he said. “There’re some things your mom and I need to explain to you. Best you stay for a while.”
* * * *
This is another excerpt from my recently published novella “Greta”, which you can find only on Wattpad below. Thank you for enjoying it.