The Perfect Son

Jessy and Adam sit stiff at the dining room table, nineteen-year-old college sweethearts pretending nothing's weird. She squeezes his hand under the wood and tells him it'll be fine. When Mrs. Curtin walks in with dinner, Adam drops Jessy's hand fast and plays the good son. The step-mom is dressed sharp but jittery, talking sweet about how perfect Adam's been since she came into his life. Jessy laughs, bubbly, and tries to join in. Every time Adam drifts back to his girl, Mom finds another chore. Jessy excuses herself to the bathroom, presses against the door, heart racing. When she comes back, Adam's alone and twitchy. Before he can speak, Jessy lays it out: his mom is fucking clingy and weird. Mid-rant she leans in to kiss him, then freezes. Mrs. Curtin is under the table, mouth full of her step-son's cock. Jessy bolts, cursing, out to her car. Adam chases her down. It's not cheating, he swears—just family maintenance. Dad was a violent prick, now the only way to keep Mom calm is letting her suck. Jessy cries, he begs. He brought her home to break the cycle. They head back inside. Mom waits on the couch, tears ready. Adam says it's over. Mom curls into a ball, sobbing. Jessy threatens to leave. Mom chokes out an offer: if Jessy is taking her perfect boy, she needs to see why. She needs to watch them fuck.