Dilf Smut

Stu Macher Pt. 1: (House Call)

The tv is roaring in the background; going through the commercials, as I work in the kitchen. I'm working the popcorn machine trying to get it started so I can enjoy a Christmas movie.

It's only November and the ground is only lightly covered in snow but I'm a sucker for the red and green holiday. It's my favourite, I always go full out.

The machine finally turns on, heating up the popcorn. I go to the microwave and put some butter in and wait.

I'm home alone right now, my parents are in Cuba for their anniversary. I got the house all to myself as the only child.

The microwave beeps and the popcorn pops, I don't hear the light crunch of the snow outside as feet press down into the unbroken layer.

I finish the popcorn and bring the bowl to the couch and get comfy under my grey blanket. I fold my legs up and watch the movie I put on: The Grinch.

A creak rips through the air, meeting my ears. I turn my head in the direction it came from seeing nothing but my kitchen. The back door slightly open.

I stand up my heart beating faster, I walk over and peer outside, I see nothing, not an animal nor a person. A pain of anxiety hits me in the chest as I look down to the snow and see foot prints. Human footprints.

They look as if they entered the house, I back track into the kitchen and see wet spots of melted snow on the floor. I take a shaky breath, I close the door behind me and walk in following the trial of water.

It leads up stairs, the water soaking into the carpet. I stand at the bottom of the stairs, debating if I should go up and confront of intruder.

I rush to the kitchen grab a large chef's knife from its block and start up the stairs into the dark hallway of bedrooms.

I raise the knife pointing it in front of me, ready to fight back. I first peer into my parents room, seeing a large bed in the middle and everything on the countered in order like usual.

Next I get to their bathroom, I push open the door and step it. I hit the shower curtain away making sure no one was behind there.

Finally I go to my room, the door is open and there's a single light on. I don't leave my lights on. More anxiety rips through my body. I have to call someone. Anyone. I'm not safe.

I'm about to rush down stairs when I hear a higher pitch male voice, "Come on, Sweetheart. I know you're out there." I recognize that voice, from school. It's Stu Macher.

I want to run by my body won't move, I want to scream for help and get the neighbours attention but I won't.

I take a breath and walk into my room, where he waits. I see him, sitting under my desk lamp, illuminating himself.

"W-what are you doing here, Stu?" I ask quietly with a shaky voice.

"I just wanted to stop by and talk to you about somethin'!" He says brightly. He stands up and pulls a hand gun out from the back of his pants. Pointing it at my chest.

"What are you doing!?" I ask putting my hands in the air, seeing the gun. Looking down the barrel.

"What are you doing fuckin' the quarter back?" He asks, swinging his hand around that's holding the gun dramatically.

"What?!" I ask shocked he knows about that and cares. "Why do you care?"

"You lost something so pure, something that was supposed to be mine. I was supposed to take it!" He hisses stepping closer to me, the gun now in my face, almost pressing up against my cheek.

"What do you mean take it?" I ask, shocked and confused. Me and Stu barely interact at school, other than in class we are two strangers.

"I wanted that flower of yours." He whispers into my ear, the gun lightly caressed my neck, slowly dropping to my chest.

I don't know how to respond, I don't know if I should run or attack him. I stand there, pressed up against him the gun dangerously close to my heart.

He takes a large step backwards, giving me space. The gun leaves my bubble and I let out a sigh of relief. I look up at him, meeting is strong, psychotic gaze. I watch as a smirk appears on his face, sending a strong message.