His Ex-Girlfriend’s Mom: Part 2

The next evening, Michael stepped into Lotus Lounge with a mix of nerves and excitement churning in his gut. Kwan had texted him the address and a simple instruction: 'Be here at 7 PM sharp. Don't make me wait.' He arrived five minutes early, his slim frame clad in a clean button-up shirt and jeans that hung loosely on his 5'6" build.

The bar hummed with its usual low-key energy—dim lights casting warm glows over the wooden counters, the faint scent of jasmine incense mingling with spilled beer. Kwan was already behind the bar, her presence commanding the space like she owned every inch of it, which she did.

She'd chosen her outfit with deliberate care: a white top stretched taut over her massive F-cup breasts, the thin fabric doing nothing to hide the fact that she wore no bra underneath.

Her dark nipples poked against the material, hard peaks begging for attention with every shift of her body. Below, tight latex pants hugged her thick, juicy ass like a second skin, the glossy black material gleaming under the lights and accentuating the sway of her wide hips.

Her long black hair cascaded down her back, and those plump, glossy lips curved into a knowing smile as she spotted him. At 48, Kwan exuded mature confidence, her almond eyes sharp and bossy, ready to put him in his place.

"Michael," she called out, her voice firm and laced with that Thai accent that made his knees weak. "Over here. Now." He hurried to the bar, his eyes immediately dropping to the way her breasts jiggled slightly as she wiped down the counter, the latex pants creaking softly when she turned.

He couldn't help it—his gaze lingered on her lips, imagining how they'd feel wrapped around his cock, then flicked down to the curve of her ass as she bent to grab a crate of glasses.

"Eyes up here when I'm talking to you," Kwan snapped, but there was a teasing glint in her eye. She straightened, placing the crate on the counter with a thud. "Your job is simple: stock the shelves, serve drinks, keep the place clean.

And don't stare at the customers like a lost puppy. Got it?" Michael nodded quickly, blushing as he tore his eyes from the deep cleavage spilling from her top. "Yes, ma'am," he mumbled, already feeling a thrill under her commanding tone. It was like her voice wrapped around him, pulling him deeper into submission.

The night kicked off slow, but Kwan kept him on his toes. "Fetch those bottles from the back—hurry up!" she'd bark, watching as he scurried away, his gaze darting back to the way her latex pants molded to her thighs, outlining the subtle bulge of her semi-hard cock beneath. When he returned, arms loaded, she inspected the work with a critical eye.

"Not bad," she said, her plump lips pursing. Then, as a reward, she placed a warm hand on his arm, her fingers squeezing his bicep just enough to send a jolt through him. Her touch lingered, nails grazing his skin, and he felt his cock twitch in his jeans, hardening at the contact.

As the crowd picked up, Michael thrived under her firm hand. He'd pour a whiskey neat exactly as she ordered, and she'd nod approvingly, her breasts brushing his shoulder accidentally-on-purpose as she reached past him. "Good boy," she'd murmur, low enough that only he heard, and lean in to plant a soft kiss on his cheek, her glossy lips leaving a faint shine on his skin.

The scent of her—spicy perfume mixed with the latex—drove him wild. He couldn't get enough; every glance at her thick ass flexing as she moved, or the way her nipples strained against the white top when she laughed at a patron's joke, made his pulse race. He stole looks at her lips constantly, fantasizing about them sucking him dry, and when she caught him, she'd smirk, arching her back to push her tits forward.

"Wipe that table over there—it's filthy," Kwan ordered during a lull, pointing with a manicured finger. Michael obeyed instantly, his slim body moving with eager efficiency. As he finished, she sidled up behind him, her hand sliding onto his arm again, this time trailing up to his shoulder. "You're doing well for your first night," she said, her breath hot against his ear.

She turned his face toward hers with a gentle but insistent grip and kissed his cheek once more, her lips pressing firmer this time, almost a promise of more. Michael's face burned, his cock straining painfully now, but he didn't care—he lived for these moments, for the way her bossy demeanor made him feel alive, controlled, wanted.

By closing time, the bar emptied, leaving just the two of them. Kwan locked the door, her latex pants squeaking as she sauntered over, hips swaying hypnotically. Michael's eyes followed every curve, from her heaving breasts to the inviting swell of her ass.

"You did good tonight," she said, her voice softening just a fraction, but still laced with authority. She cupped his chin, tilting his head up to meet her gaze, her thumb brushing his lower lip. "Keep this up, and there might be more... rewards." He swallowed hard, nodding, utterly hooked on her confident, mature dominance, already craving the next shift under her unyielding command.

A few days later, the bar had finally emptied out, the last patrons stumbling into the humid Pattaya night, leaving behind the sticky residue of spilled drinks and the faint echo of laughter. Michael's muscles ached from the long shift—hauling crates, wiping tables, dodging Kwan's sharp commands—but he didn't mind. Not really. Working under her had become the highlight of his broke, wandering existence.

Tonight, she'd changed midway through, slipping into the back to emerge in tight black latex trousers that clung to her thick, juicy ass like liquid obsidian, the material stretching taut over her wide hips. Her leather top was a deep crimson, laced up the front but barely containing her massive F-cup breasts, the firm globes heaving with every breath, nipples stiff against the supple hide.

He was mopping the floor near the bar when she approached, her heels clicking authoritatively on the tiles. 'Michael,' she said, her voice low and bossy, that mature confidence wrapping around him like a vice.

'Come here.' He set the mop aside, wiping sweat from his brow, his eyes inevitably dropping to the way the latex molded to her ass cheeks, imagining how they'd feel under his hands. She caught him, of course—those almond eyes narrowing with amusement—but instead of a reprimand, she grabbed his wrist, her grip firm, and led him to one of the sturdy wooden chairs tucked in the corner.

'Sit,' she ordered, pushing him down gently but insistently. Michael's heart pounded as he obeyed, his slim frame sinking into the seat, his semi-erect cock already stirring in his jeans from the proximity of her body heat.

He looked up at her, mesmerized by her plump, glossy lips curving into a smile, her breasts rising and falling just inches from his face. Before he could process it, Kwan turned, her thick juicy ass descending right onto his lap. The weight of her settled perfectly, the latex trousers sliding smooth against his crotch as she lowered herself, pressing directly onto his semi-erect cock. The pressure was immediate and electric—her ass cheeks enveloping the growing bulge through the fabric, warm and unyielding.

His cock hardened instantly, surging to full erection, throbbing against the confines of his jeans as her curves ground down just enough to tease.

Michael gasped, his hands hovering uncertainly at his sides, every nerve firing from the surprise contact. Kwan slid one hand around the back of his neck, her fingers threading into his messy hair, pulling him forward with possessive ease.

She leaned in, her firm breasts pressing into his chest, the leather top creaking as her hard nipples dragged across his shirt. Her glossy lips captured his in a deep kiss, tongue slipping past his teeth to claim his mouth, tasting of sweet rum and dominance. He melted into it, his rock-hard cock pulsing under the relentless grind of her juicy ass, her hips rolling in slow, deliberate circles that rubbed her cheeks along his shaft and balls, building friction that made his balls tighten with need.

She broke the kiss just enough to murmur against his lips, her breath hot and teasing. 'I've caught you ogling me a thousand times, Michael—staring at my tits, my ass, these lips you want wrapped around your cock. Is this not what you want?' Her voice was husky, confident, the mature boss in her shining through as she ground harder, her ass cheeks clenching to squeeze his erection through the layers of fabric.

He nodded frantically, his face flushed, whispering hoarsely, 'Yes... God, yes, Kwan.' The admission spilled out, raw and desperate, his body arching up instinctively to chase the pressure of her grinding.

She smirked, taking full lead as always, deepening the kiss again—her tongue fucking his mouth with slow thrusts while her free hand grabbed his wrists, guiding his palms to her waist.

His fingers sank into the curve of her hips, feeling the heat of her body through the latex, the way her thick ass flexed as she continued to grind along his rock-hard cock. Each roll of her hips dragged her cheeks up and down his shaft, the seam of her trousers pressing right against his balls, sending jolts of pleasure-pain through him. He gripped her tighter, lost in the sensation, his mind blank except for the overwhelming need she commanded in him.

Kwan's grinding didn't let up, her thick juicy ass rolling in circles over Michael's rock-hard cock, the latex trousers slick and unyielding as they rubbed along his shaft and balls through his jeans. Each press sent waves of heat surging through him, his hips bucking involuntarily, chasing the friction that edged him closer to release without mercy.

She pulled back from the kiss, her plump glossy lips hovering just above his, her firm breasts still mashed against his chest, nipples scraping like diamonds through the leather top.

'How do I know you won't cheat on me, Michael?' she teased, her voice a sultry whisper laced with that bossy edge, her ass clenching to squeeze his throbbing erection. 'Run away with other girls, like you did with my daughter? You broke her heart, wandering off to fuck whoever caught your eye.' Her hips dipped lower, grinding harder, the seam of her latex pants dragging right over his balls, making them ache with pent-up need.

Michael's breath hitched, his hands gripping her waist tighter, fingers digging into the latex as he shook his head. 'I never would, Kwan. I promise. Not with you. You're... everything.' The words tumbled out, desperate and sincere, his cock pulsing wildly under her relentless teasing, pre-cum soaking his underwear.

She lightly kissed his lips again, soft pecks that barely grazed, denying him the full depth he craved while her ass continued its edging grind—up and down his length, slow and deliberate, building him to the brink then easing off just enough to keep him hanging.

'I want more commitment than promises, baby,' she murmured, her tongue flicking out to trace his lower lip. 'I want to lock that cock of yours in chastity. Then I know you won't cheat. It'll be all mine—your cum, your pleasure, controlled by me.' Her eyes locked onto his, dark and commanding, as she ground forward, pressing her cheeks flush against his balls.

The idea hit him like a bolt—horny haze clouding his mind, his erection straining painfully. Fuck, it was hot. The thought of her owning him completely, caging his cock so he couldn't stray, made his balls tighten even more. 'Yes,' he gasped, nodding eagerly, voice rough with lust. 'Do it. Lock me up, Kwan. I want that.'

Her smile widened, satisfied, those glossy lips curving as she shifted her weight. She ramped up the grinding, sliding her latex-covered ass back and forth across his dick with increasing speed—firm cheeks rubbing the full length of his shaft, the friction building like fire through the denim.

Michael's hands clutched her hips, pulling her down harder, his body trembling as the pressure mounted. She rocked relentlessly, her thick ass cheeks enveloping and stroking him through the fabric, until the edge shattered. He came hard, groaning into her neck, hot spurts of cum flooding his jeans, soaking the front as his cock jerked and pulsed beneath her grinding weight.

Kwan eased off slowly, her ass lifting just enough to let him slump back in the chair, spent and panting. With a wicked chuckle, she stood, turning to face him, then knelt between his legs in one fluid motion.

Her hands made quick work of his belt and zipper, sliding his pants and underwear down to his thighs, revealing his cock—still twitching from the orgasm but already shrinking, slick with his own cum, balls heavy and sensitive.

She leaned in close, her plump lips inches from his softening shaft, breath warm against the sensitive skin, making it twitch again despite the aftershocks.

From her pocket, she pulled the small, flat steel chastity cage—the one Nida had given her earlier, with built-in ball shockers glinting under the bar's dim lights. Expertly, her fingers wrapped around his base, sliding the cold metal ring first around his cock and balls, snugging it tight to trap him. Then the flat cage clicked over his shrinking length, encasing it completely, the electrodes pressing firmly against his balls, ready to deliver shocks at her command.

The lock snapped shut with a finality that sent a thrill through him, his spent cock trying futilely to stir within its confines. Kwan looked up, her eyes gleaming with dominance.

'Pull up your pants and go home, Michael. Think about me all night—locked and owned.' She blew him a kiss, lips pursing glossy and inviting, as he fumbled to cover himself, standing on shaky legs.

He stumbled out into the Pattaya night, the cage a constant, teasing weight between his legs, his mind reeling—amazed, turned on beyond belief, already craving her next command.