The Naughty Mother
Chapter One:
Alicia Anderson wondered what it would be like to have a young
stud to fuck her regularly. It seemed that every married woman in
the world was having an affair these days except her. Even Zenobia
Grant -- that decrepit old bag on the soap opera Alicia sat here
watching as the rain poured down outside -- was having an affair. The
old bag, with her six face lifts and inch-thick makeup, was presently
locked in the muscular embrace of the young stableboy who tended her
husband's prize horses. The stableboy had to be at least a half
century younger than Zenobia. Alicia she'd never be able to figure
out the stableboy's lust for the old bag. She also knew that if
there was any justice in the world, Zenobia would be caught in the
act one of these days by her husband and banished forever from his
luxurious estate.
Admit it, Alicia, you're insanely jealous, she told herself as
she switched off the TV with the remote control and turned her
attention from the blank screen to the rain sliding down the
windowpane. You're jealous because Zenobia has something you don't
have -- a young lover.
Alicia glanced at the pictures of her three sons that were
arranged on a walnut table nearby. All the pictures were recent
school portrait photos. Her three blond sons stared back at her.
Mark, the oldest, captain of his high school swim team, gave
her a cocky grin, almost a smirk. He was broad shouldered, long
limbed and exuded self-confidence.
Shawn, two years younger than Mark, gave Alicia that blank,
serious look. Shawn was the musician of the family. He spent more
time at the piano than he did sleeping. Compared to Mark, he was
frail and pale.
Ricky, the youngest, gave Alicia his usual wicked grin, his
nose upturned and freckled, his teeth dazzling white in contrast to
his deep tan. The only thing missing from the picture was his little
league baseball cap, which he wore backward almost all the time.
What do I have to be jealous of? Alicia asked that accusing
voice in her head. I have three gorgeous sons and Zenobia doesn't
have even one. I have a rich husband, a big beautiful house, all the
free time I want, and three of the best sons in the world. If
anybody should be jealous, it should be Zenobia.
Zenobia has a lover, that persistent little voice said.
Zenobia is having an affair with a muscular young man, no less.
Zenobia is being satisfied in ways you've almost forgotten about,
Alicia -- in ways you've almost forgotten.
Alicia jumped up off the couch and went to the window.
What a rotten day, she thought, trying to quiet that nagging,
taunting little voice. Why does it have to rain and rain and rain?
Alicia couldn't remember when she'd last seen the sun. The
winter rains were depressing. Being cooped up in a mansion day after
day while the rains hammered the windows put depraved ideas into her
head. It was during rainy season that Alicia sometimes wished she
lived in a small ranch-style home instead of this monstrosity.
She checked her watch. Thank God she'd be leaving for the
health club in a half hour. She would put in a hard hour with the
weights, then hit the swimming pool for fifteen minutes before her
massage at five. She especially looked forward to the massage.
Thomas, the 19-year-old masseur, was the most talented masseur Alicia
had ever met. Those big warm hands of his could relax her magically.
He could put her sleep in minutes.
And he looks just like Zenobia's stableboy, said that nagging
voice. Doesn't he, Alicia? You'd like to fuck him, wouldn't you,
Alicia? Just once, you'd like to fuck him and see what it's like to
fuck a cock other than Paul's. Paul isn't quite the man he used to
be. You hardly ever see him anymore. And when he's home from his
continent hopping, he has so little time for you. It's as if he's
forgotten he even has a wife.
Alicia watched the rain come down. She wondered if it was
raining in Japan right now, which was where Paul was supposed to be.
Paul's business was international trade. He spent ten months of each
year outside the U.S., much of his time in the Orient. Alicia
wondered -- Paul being abroad so much of the time -- whether maybe he
hadn't gotten involved in some affairs.
He's probably got a whole harem over there, that nagging voice
said. And here you are, afraid to even flirt with a man. Here you
are, thirty-nine years old, and you've only fucked one cock in your
life. How many cocks has Zenobia fucked, Alicia? And when was the
last time Paul's middle-aged cock really satisfied you? Be honest,
Alicia. You're lonely, you're frustrated, and you're not getting any
younger. You work out hard, you take care of yourself, and you've
got the figure and looks of a younger woman. But how long will that
last? Take a chance, Alicia. Grab your pleasure while you still can
-- before it's too late.
"Oh, that boy!" Alicia ran from the TV room, down the hall and
into the foyer. She threw open the front door.
Ricky, resembling a drowned rat, trudged in through the door,
his sneakers squishing. "Gotta get my raincoat," he said, panting
hard from his sprint through the rain and up the front walk. He
shivered, clutching himself.
Alicia whisked off his baseball cap, showering the oak wall
with rainwater. "Why didn't you wear your raincoat to school?"
"Forgot it. Got a ride to school, remember?" He started for
the hallway, leaving a puddle behind.
Alicia caught him. "Take off your shoes. Hilda's on vacation
and I'm not going to clean up after you."
The boy groaned and tugged off his sneakers, plopping two bare
feet on the brick floor of the foyer.
"Didn't you wear socks?" Alicia said.
"Forgot," the boy said, turning for the hallway.
"Wait. On second thought, you take off all those wet clothes
right here."
"But Mom, I just wanna get my raincoat. I'm going right back
out. I'm late already because I had to run all the way home for the
raincoat."
"You're not going anywhere soaked to the bone," Alicia said.
"Your newspapers can wait. In fact, I want you to get in the bathtub
and warm up before you get dressed."
"But Mom, I might get fired if I'm late. I'll lose my paper
route."
"If you get fired for delivering late on a day like this, then
they can have their old route. You don't need a paper route, anyway.
Your father gives you an allowance each week worth what you'd make on
twenty paper routes."
"But I like it, Mom. I just like being a paperboy."
Alicia shook her head. "All right, paperboy. You can go out
and deliver, just as soon as you warm up and get on some dry
clothes."
The boy groaned, but he undressed as she'd asked, keeping his
back to her. His teeth chattered, and his skinny body shook all
over. The water beaded on his tanned back and rolled down like water
off the back of a duck. As he peeled off his pants, he reveled skin
that was shockingly white in contrast to his deeply tanned torso.
"Get up into the bathtub," Alicia said. "You're on the verge
of hypothermia."
"What?"
"Just get up there." Alicia followed her naked son down the
plushly carpeted hall way and up the carpeted stairs. Her eyes never
left his flexing little asscheeks.
She hadn't seen any of her sons naked in a long time. Ricky
was still a boy, still completely hairless, but there was something
about the shape of his body that hinted of manhood. Maybe it was a
hint of muscles about to sprout, or a slight wideness of his
shoulders and upper back in contrast to his boyish hips. Whatever it
was, Alicia found herself wanting to see more of the boy.
She followed him into the bathroom. "Get under the shower.
Quick."
"But Mom --"
"You're shaking like a leaf. We've gotta warm you up." She
stopped the boy before he could close the shower door, then reached
in and turned on the water, adjusting it to a steamy temperature.
The boy stood there, half turned so she couldn't see his cock.
"I can take my own shower, Mom."
"Just get under the water and be quiet."
"Ouch! It's too hot!"
"You'll get used to it. Now get under there." She grabbed his
hips and pulled him completely under the drenching spray.
His boy-prick was standing straight out. His cock looked about
five inches long and about as thick as a hot dog. The purplish head
of his cock peeked from its foreskin.
Alicia swallowed, stunned by the sight of her youngest son's
cock. Not only was his cock big, but it was hard and straight as an
arrow. As she gazed at his uncut cock, she felt a rush of tightness
in cunt.
"Why don't I go soak in the hot-tub?" Ricky said, trying to
turn away. "I'd get warmer faster in the hot-tub."
Alicia had to think fast. "You need more than a soak, young
man. You need a good scrubbing as well."
"The dirt'll soak off in the hot-tub."
"And pollute the water," Alicia said, reaching for a bar of
soap. "The hot-tub's to be used only after you take a bath. You know
that. Now you just hold still. You're filthy."
The boy squirmed, but Alicia had a good hold on him and she
started to soap up his back.
"Hold still," she said, and whacked him on the ass.
The boy crossed his arms, pouting. The water fell on his head
and his long hair covered his eyes. Alicia couldn't tell if he had
his eyes closed or not. She turned him back away from the spray so
she could rinse his back. She took his arm and soaped it, working
her hand under his armpit until he giggled.
"There, that's not so bad, is it?" she said. "You starting to
feel warmer?"
"Uh-huh," he grunted, a thin smile on his lips.
The boy's prick was angling upwards now. His foreskin had
retracted almost completely off the cockhead and his prick appeared
to have grown another half inch. Alicia noticed his ball-sac now. It
was hairless, pink, and swollen. She resisted an urge to kiss his
balls.
She soaped the boy's chest, feeling his muscles contract under
her fingers. She was sweating in the steamy heat, her blouse wet
nearly to her waist. She reached up and turned off the water.
"We'll leave it off now, until we can rinse you," she said.
"You do feel warm now, don't you?"
"Real warm," the boy mumbled. He parted the hair over his eyes
with two hands and hooked it back over his ears. His eyes were
closed. He stood there passively as Alicia worked her soapy hands
over his smooth skin.
You're out of your mind, Alicia told herself, her hands working
as if possessed. This is your own son, for heaven's sake! He's too
old for his mother to give him a bath. And you're not just giving
him a bath. You're getting a sexual thrill out of playing with his
naked body. You can't get your eyes off his cock. Control yourself,
you evil woman. Control yourself.
In answer to these thoughts, there was a snicker in Alicia's
mind. It was the snicker of that usually nagging, usually taunting
voice. But that voice wasn't saying a word now. It was just
chuckling as Alicia worked, and snickering at Alicia's fears and
doubts.
Alicia was panting, her breathing loud in the shower stall.
Ricky's prick twitched just inches from her nose. She felt the
perverted desire to take his stiff young cock in her mouth and suck
on it. She'd never done anything like that before -- although she'd
often felt such desires. She'd never even gotten up the nerve to
suck on her husband's cock.
Ricky sighed. He was trembling slightly again, although his
skin was exuding heat.
"Are you getting cold, darling?"
"Uh-huh," the boy said.
"If you get cold, let me know and we'll turn the water back
on."
Ricky just sighed, nodding.
Alicia slid her soapy hands up and down the boy's slim belly.
She caressed his flanks, slipping her fingers under his arms again.
He hadn't a hair in his armpits. He hadn't a hair on his balls or on
his groin. Her hands moved down, working soap onto his lower back,
onto his ass. As her fingers slid into the crevice between his
asscheeks, he caught his breath and his prick flexed.
Oh, God! Alicia thought. Oh, my God! Her face was flushed
with a terrible heat. A maddening throbbing had begun in her pussy.
She felt like grabbing at her cunt and squeezing.
She soaped Ricky's legs, moved down and washed his feet,
working her fingers between his toes. The size of his feet and toes
amazed her, just as the size of his cock and balls amazed her. He
had over- sized hands, too. Neither his feet, hands, nor cock
appeared the right size for his skinny young body.
"Don't you ever wash your feet?" she scolded. "And when's the
last time you cleaned your toenails?"
The boy didn't respond. His breathing came fast.
Alicia slid her hand back up. She rubbed his ass, working her
fingers into the crevice, squeezing his rubber asscheeks. She took a
deep breath, her face on fire, her mind buzzing, and she moved her
hands between her son's legs, soaping up his naked crotch.
"Oooh!" the boy breathed. "Oh, man!" His words were barely
audible. His soapy toes curled against the porcelain of the tub.
Alicia was breathing as if she'd just run up three flights of
stairs. Her heart was banging in her chest. She couldn't control
her hands.
Ricky's soapy feet slid on the floor of the tub as he spread
his legs. His knees were shaking.
Alicia's hands filled with his balls, squeezing them, rolling
them gently, caressing his balls. They were like fat rubber eggs.
And the boy's sac-skin was incredibly soft.
"Oooh!" he whispered. "Ohhh, oooh!" His eyes were still
clamped shut and his head nodded slightly from side to side.
Alicia's eyes were blurry with tears -- tears of lust. Her
cunt felt as if it had swollen to the size of a fist between her legs
-- and it throbbed maddeningly. She squeezed her legs together,
working her wet cuntlips against each other.
Ricky's prick pointed straight at the ceiling, its head a shiny
purplish-red, blue veins straining to burst on its cream-colored
shaft. Its piss-hole stood wide open, a clear fluid oozing out as
the prick throbbed.
Alicia played with Ricky's balls, sliding her soapy fingers all
around and under them, up and down his crotch, up into his asscrack.
His toes wriggled. He crossed his arms over his chest, hugging
himself.
"I hope you've been keeping this thing clean," Alicia mumbled.
Her hand curled around the shaft of his cock.
The stiff young fuckrod quivered, flexing.
"I mean, you've gotta remember to always wash under the skin.
That's the main thing." Alicia peeled the boy's foreskin all the way
off the cockhead, pulling it down tightly.
The underside of the foreskin was flushed. The cockhead looked
as if it would pop off the cockshaft. Alicia squeezed, unable to
believe how hard her son's prick was. Paul's cock had never been
this hard.
Ricky panted. His skinny body shook all over.
"Always soap it up good and make sure to wash under the skin,"
Alicia mumbled.
Her soapy hands slid up and down her son's swelling prick. THe
cockhead felt like an ember in her palm. The prick was still
growing. His cock had to be six inches long now, and fat, and
frighteningly hard. She was afraid the skin on the cockrod would
split and that Ricky's naked, skinless prick would explode out into
her hand.
"Ooooh!" Ricky whimpered under his breath. His toes kept
clutching at the floor of the tub. Prick-lube oozed like sap from
his open piss-hole. His skinny loins wiggled and he began to thrust,
fucking his stiff prick in Alicia's closed fist.
Alicia squeezed, jerking her hand up and down Ricky's
cockshaft. She watched its purplish head pop out again and again
between her encircling thumb and forefinger. His hairless groin
collided repeatedly with the heel of her hand.
The boy's loins worked as if driven by a spring, humping with
what appeared to be an instinctive rhythm. As her son fucked his
burning prick in and out of Alicia's soapy hand, Alicia was reminded
of a young male dog mounted on a bitch. Ricky's skinny body
resembled young dog's she thought for some odd reason. And he was
humping like a young dog out of control.
His eyes were open now, glassy and glazed. The boy looked as
if he were in a trance. His loins thrust, driving his stiff prick.
His belly muscles stood out rippling washboard as his body undulated
with lust and pleasure.
Alicia imagined she could feel his prick in her cunt. Each
time he thrust, her cunt contracted, and she imagined a stiff cock
fucking deep into her, working between her swollen pussylips, filling
her stiff clit. Her toes curled in her shoes. She clamped her legs
together fiercely and rhythmically.
Ricky's prick flexed hard. He shivered violently and let out a
gasp. A shuddering vibration shot through his pick and his jism
squirted out against the tiled wall of the shower stall.
"Oh Ricky!" Alicia gasped, shaking all over, her hand filled
with his bucking cock.
Before he could shoot again, Alicia shoved her face in front of
his cock and caught his second spurt of cum in her open mouth. As
the milky jism splashed against the back of her throat, a whirling
heat saturated her loins and her cunt exploded with pleasure.
She groaned, unable to control her voice. Her cunt contracted
again and again as she worked her legs against each other. Hot
needles of pleasure flooded her fuckhole and spread throughout her
loins. As her body vibrated with orgasm, she maintained her jerking
grip on Ricky's cock and caught his hot spurts of cum in her mouth.
She swallowed the sweet alkaline cock cream as fast as it came.
Gazing up, she saw Ricky's eyes rolled back to the white slits. He
was whimpering as if he were being whipped.
As her orgasm subsided, Alicia was overcome with a sense of
embarrassment and shame such as she had never felt. She released her
son's cock as if it were radioactive. His prick was still stiff as a
bone and pointed straight up. She turned on the shower again, this
time full blast. Without daring to look into her son's face, she
closed the stall door.
"Rinse off good," she called to him, unable to keep her voice
fm sounding strained and thin. "Then put on warm clothes, and for
goodness-sakes, don't forget your raincoat." She tried to laugh
nonchalantly, but it sounded glaringly artificial.
The boy said nothing. She could see his blurred shape through
the glass stall as he turned this way and that, rinsing himself. A
straight rod protruded from his groin like a barrel of a pistol,
wagging as he moved.
"I'm late for my workout," she called, wishing he'd answer so
she could hear the tone of his voice. "If I get done early enough,
and if you and your brothers haven't eaten someplace, I'll cook
something."
"You?" He sounded almost shocked.
"Yes, me. I can cook, you know. We didn't always have Hilda
around to do the cooking and housework, you know."
"Oh yeah, sure," he said, although he didn't sound at all
convinced.
"Well, we didn't," Alicia said. "See you later. And stay dry.
I don't want you dying of hypothermia on me."
"What?"
"Never mind, I've gotta run."
Alicia fled the bathroom, relieved she'd gotten away so easily.
Ricky didn't sound at all upset by what had happened. He sounded as
if he'd forgotten all about it already.
That was the way he sounded, anyway.
