Late Night Calls (JenLisa)

Mmmh

*mommy kink
~~~

Relief and content washes over me as I saunter along on the stone floor tiles that lead to my bungalow, I am now home. Facing the front door, I unlock the door with the house key and an aromatic and fresh smell greets me when I set foot in the living room, causing my stomach to growl audibly. I hear the clicking and clattering of metal in the kitchen. Placing down my purse, I see Lisa arranging utensils and plates on the table, and at the center is a big dish of spaghetti with meatballs.

She takes notice of my presence and walks to me. She lays a peck on my chapped lips, but I don't bother responding to the kiss.

"Welcome home, Mommy," Lisa says as always and displays her same small yet bright smile that effortlessly lights up my whole world.

I want to smile back at her and give her the biggest and warmest hug because I missed her, instead I stare blankly and nod at her. I approach the food waiting on the table and take a seat while Lisa sits at the opposite side. Using tongs, she collects a large portion of spaghetti and put it on my plate.

"Wait, please," she stops me with a tiny voice when I was about to twist my fork on the pasta. My eyebrows knit in irritation and displeasure since I am hungry enough to engulf a horse. At this point, I have very little patience to wait. One by one, Lisa brings more meatballs to my plate. Once she finishes, I instantly start devouring my food, too famished to say anything or even make eye contact.

I hear Lisa clear her throat. "How was work?"

"Fine," I emotionlessly state with my mouth full.

It's a lie. Work was an absolute ass today. I wanted nothing but to have it done, and be with you. But I don't want you to feel sympathy and throw more annoying questions that will worsen my mood.

Seconds pass and she asks, "Does it taste good, Mommy?"

Though I badly want to grin at her ridiculous question because the answer is crystal clear, even to the blind, and rest my hand on top of hers to tell her anything she cooks is delicious and I'll eat it in a blink of an eye, I hum in response, such deadpan.

Lisa stops talking, and I don't want one of us to at the moment. I become calm and less tense in favor of the quiet atmosphere. After eating, I lay my dirty dish in the sink and head straight to my office with my laptop and to start reading and answering emails and files. I am strict with no distractions when working, so I applied a rule for Lisa to only knock on the door when there's an emergency. With that, I begin typing until I lose track of the time.

Yawning, I glance at the clock on the corner of my laptop's bright screen. 11:06, three hours have passed. I check the security camera belonging in the kitchen and the dishes and utensils are clean and are neatly put back in their rightful places, as well as the table being spotless. Then I select onto the bedroom of Lisa. She's sleeping, wrapped around her blanket like a burrito. Her daily routine is easy to memorize. Wake up, make and eat breakfast, clean, make and eat lunch, clean, make and eat dinner, clean, and finally sleep. It must be pretty boring and lonely in this house to her when I'm not around.

Sex happens only when I feel like it, clearly. I forbid Lisa to even touch herself, and instead should take cold showers or any other method to get rid of her arousal. Her pleasure only belongs to me, and should only be for me. However, work has been pushing my buttons lately, testing every inch of my sanity left. I chug down the remaining water in my mug before going to my room, not excited for another day of work tomorrow.

(((

The next night, I arrive at home as usual. Tired. I slump against the chair and lean on my elbows onto the table with my head resting on my hands. I peek through my fingers and see my ready-to-eat dinner in front of me. Roast chicken with rich mashed potatoes as its side. I nudge it with my fork, trying to search for my appetite.