Stuck in the Washing Machine

If asked, Erica Watson would have said she had many close friends in the neighbourhood, such as Amy and Tamara whom she exercised with daily, either at the gym or, if the weather was good, for a run through the park; or Cathy, Jane and Liz who all had children in her son Don's age group and still met up once a week for lunch; or Barbara, whose husband John worked with Erica's husband Will; and so on, but of all these close friends only one was a true confidant and that was Sally Johnson.

Erica and Sally had been friends since school, and on the surface, at least, could not have been more different. Sally was tall with long, dark hair, and slender too, so that she had earned the nickname Morticia of Addams fame amongst the neighbours. Erica, in contrast, was blonde and blue-eyed, and had had the fortune of falling in love with a man four times her age (she was eighteen, he seventy two).

To be precise, she had his fortune, for Charles had been as wealthy as he was handsome, and had died within a year of their marriage. Erica had received many nicknames as a result, most of them vulgar. The wealth had been spent over the years, but she often had reason to think of him. For one thing, Charles had been a lover of large breasts, and although Erica had not been lacking in that department, she had been happy to let him pay for their enlargement. To be blonde with such large breasts did risk a certain reputation, but Erica liked the impact they made, and she was quite willing to play the bimbo to get what she wanted.

And there was Don, of course. Her son by Charles. Handsome, like his father, and athletic too. Popular with the girls when he was at school, but sadly not too bright.

"How old is Don now?" Sally asked, peering out Erica's front window to where Don was packing tools into a white van in the driveway.

"Twenty next month," Erica said. "Will bought him the van. As an investment. Don always did like working in the garden. It's good to see him make something of it." She would have preferred him to find a real job. A career. With real money. Something that meant she didn't have to rely on a husband for money. Especially now.

Erica sighed. "I fucked up."

Sally perked up. "Do tell."

"I did a DNA test."

"Oh no. Alice..."

"Will isn't the father."

"Fuck." Sally sipped her coffee as she mused over this revelation.

Alice, one year old now, was in the front garden with Rosa, their live-in maid. One of the main things that had attracted Erica to Will was that he had a house big enough, and money enough too, that he could afford a live-in maid. Someone to do the cooking and cleaning - and, it turned out, do the bulk of the childcare too. Erica loved her daughter, but at thirty-nine years old had no wish to go through all that again.

"Will adores Alice. She's everything to him." Will was pushing fifty, and Alice was proof of his virility. More than that, she represented to him the promise that the ideal of a happy family was possible. "If he learns the truth, it will be the end of us."

The end. A no doubt messy and bitter divorce, with no guarantee that Erica would get anything to support her as a single mother.

"Then don't tell him," Sally said. "What he doesn't know won't hurt him."

Erica sighed, abruptly angry. "Yes. But Xara knows." Will's daughter, Xara, whose antagonism towards Erica was the one fly in the ointment of her new life. "She found the letter with the DNA results. I tore it up and put it in the bin - I should have burned it - but she fished all the scraps out and taped them together."

Sally laughed. "I'm sorry, I know I shouldn't laugh, but you have to admire her determination. So, I'm guessing she hasn't told Will?"

"She says she will if I don't do as she says. Honestly, I could strangle her." Erica, despite her reputation as a black widow, had never actively considered murdering anyone before, but squeezing her hands about the neck of that blackmailing little bitch had a dreadful appeal to it.

"What does she want? Money?"

Erica gave a bitter laugh. "If only. It's far worse than that." She closed her eyes and squirmed in her seat with embarrassment. Xara's demands were humiliating, and only Erica's desperate need for a friendly shoulder to cry on gave her the strength to continue. Counting them off on her fingers, she started, "I'm to shave my pussy, bare like a porn star, and keep it that way."

Sally snorted into her coffee, and fought back a smile as she hurriedly wiped the table clean. "I can't see Will complaining about that," she said carefully.

"I wouldn't mind if Will was the one asking," Erica snarled. "My fucking stepdaughter is the one asking - demanding - and what's worse is -"

Erica held up a second finger. "What's worse is that I'm not to wear underwear. No knickers. No shorts or leggings or trousers either. Skirts and dresses only. She wants my pussy exposed at all times, and to make sure I'm following instructions, she wants to see my pussy with her own eyes whenever she asks."

"I told you she looked like a lesbian."

"It gets worse." Erica held up a third finger. "I'm to wear high heels always. Even in the house. Three inches minimum. Although, she generously" - her voice dripped with sarcasm - "allows me to wear trainers when I go for a run or to the gym."

"Very generous," Sally agreed with a smirk.

"And..." Erica held up a fourth finger. "Hold-ups."

Sally studied the silky black gauze that wrapped Erica's legs from her cork wedge heels to beneath her knee-length summer dress. "If you want me to believe you, Erica," she said slyly, "you'll have to show me."

Erica rolled her eyes. She knew her friend well and wasn't at all shocked, but that didn't make lifting her skirt any less embarrassing. It didn't make parting her thighs feel any less slutty. She felt her cheeks burn as Sally's eyes widened in delight.

At the sound of the front door opening, Erica hurriedly fixed her dress. Don appeared in the doorway. "I'll be back about six," he said.

"Hi Don," Sally said in a sultry manner. "If you're looking for work, my hedge needs trimming." She shifted her leg as Erica made to kick it.

"I can do it tomorrow morning," he said.

"Great. See you then." Once he'd gone, she turned to Erica and shrugged. "It really does."

*

Xara, recently turned eighteen, was in her final months of school. Unlike Don, Xara was a bright kid, and Erica could hardly wait until she left for university - and that was true before she started blackmailing her.

She was an attractive girl, but Erica had seen no evidence of boyfriends, or girlfriends. Maybe she was a lesbian, as Sally thought. She arrived home from school as usual at four in the afternoon, and as usual grabbed a snack from the kitchen before going upstairs to hide in her bedroom, music blaring in her headphones, phone busy with notifications, somehow managing to study despite the constant distraction.

This day, however, between coming home and disappearing upstairs, she cornered Erica in the living room. "Let's see," she said with a wicked gleam in her eyes.

Too angry to be embarrassed, Erica lifted her dress. It wasn't the first time she'd shaved her pussy, but she resented being made to do it for this girl. She resented too having to wear hold-ups, a ridiculous fashion. Still, she couldn't help wondering if the sight of her pussy excited the girl. Maybe Xara had a thing for her stepmother. Maybe this blackmail wasn't about Xara trying to humiliate her.

"Good," was all Xara said, leaving Erica alone with her questions unanswered.

Will arrived just as Rosa was taking Alice to the park. Erica was on the sofa, reading. She had switched to leather boots with five-inch heels, and her skirt was so short there was nothing between her and the leather of the sofa.

"Will!" she said, pretending to be startled. "I didn't expect you home so soon."

She was also wearing the Cuban-heeled hold-ups he had bought her for Christmas. Erica had worn them for him that night, but not since. "I like what you're wearing," he murmured, sliding onto the sofa next to her and caressing the sheer, dark material. He proved it with a long, lingering kiss, his fingers teasing up between her thighs. Discovering her bare pussy with a gasp of delight.

"For you, my love," she murmured back, and hummed happily as his fingers brushed across her clit. "Buy me more. I'll wear them every day for you."

"God I love you," he said. Quickly he unzipped his trousers and fished out his cock. Already he was hard.

"Here?" she asked. "Shouldn't we at least close the curtains?"

But Will didn't care. He had her kneel on the sofa with her bum towards him, and he thrust in, all the way, filling her with his cock. "Oh yeah, baby," she said. "Fuck me hard. I fucking love your cock in me." She knew he loved it when she talked dirty.

"Take it, slut," he growled, ramming his cock deep and hard.

Although the window faced out from the front of the house, they couldn't be seen from the street, but there was a risk that anyone approaching the front door would get a very clear view. Erica found the idea of it exciting, in the same way that not wearing underwear could be exciting. She kept half an eye on the outside path and driveway just in case.

A good thing too, because just as Will finished, his cum tickling the entrance to her womb, Don's van pulled into the driveway. Will hastily tidied himself away, and Erica, all in a fluster, ran to the bathroom to clean up.

The thrill of potential discovery had been hot. Will had come quickly, and she too had been very close. But Don had arrived home early and at exactly the wrong moment. She'd rushed to the downstairs bathroom to attempt to clean up and calm down, but the way Don stared at her legs when she emerged... She was dressed for sex and tense with unmet need, conscious of Will's cum leaking from her pussy and of her lack of underwear, conscious too that the smell of sex wrapped about her.

Surely Don had to notice. By the prominent bulge in his jeans, he had indeed, and for a brief, terrible moment it made her yearn for him to continue what Will had started.

If Will hadn't been there... but he was, and Xara was home too, and before long Rosa returned with Alice and prepared her for bed, and Erica suffered for hours. When she finally got Will into bed, she allowed herself to be more vocal than usual, wanting to be heard, wanting her son to hear, imagining him in his room, ear pressed to the wall. "I want your cum in me," she begged, looking down at the man she straddled, talking to another entirely. "Make me your whore. Make me come."

And as Will sucked on her tits, and as Erica wished for a far bigger cock to truly satisfy her, she climaxed at long last with a loud cry of pleasure. As the convulsions rocked her through blissful waves, she wondered if she should feel guilt over these incestuous fantasies.

Erica allowed Will to roll her over onto all fours, to take her from behind. She was still wearing stilettos and hold-ups, and Will was still hard. "You're so fucking sexy," he growled, his hands spreading her cheeks.

She knew he was looking at her ass as he thrust into her cunt. "Not there," she said as his fingers crept towards that forbidden entry. Erica had never done anal. Didn't want to.

Will, it turned out, had another idea anyway. Just as he was getting close - she could feel it - he pulled out and rolled her over onto her back. Finishing himself quickly with his hand, he aimed his spurting cock at her legs, his white, creamy cum splashing onto the dark, sheer material of her hold-ups.

For a good, long moment he admired the mess he had made on her, then bent to kiss her. "I love you, Erica, " he said, his fingers in her pussy, brushing her clit, bringing her steadily to a second intense and much needed climax.

"I love you," she whispered back, and wondered if he still would if he knew the truth.

*

Don had always been appreciative of his mother's healthy figure, and there had been times when he wished she weren't his mother because damn she would have been hot otherwise. It was difficult sometimes not to stare at her huge tits and wonder what they would feel like wrapped about his cock - but Don didn't like to think of her that way.

Except, after seeing her in boots and stockings, looking like sex, smelling like sex too, it was difficult not to think of her that way. Usually she wore leggings. Seeing her in a short skirt, seeing her firm, toned legs and catching a glimpse of her bare thighs, was seductive in a way he didn't like to think about. Erica was his mother. It was wrong for him to hope to catch a glimpse of her underwear.

Don's stepdad, Will, was being particularly horny too, dragging Erica to bed early. Don could hear them at it through the wall in his room. It was wrong of him to listen, and wrong of him to masturbate while he listened, but the temptation to imagine himself in Will's place was too great. He stroked his thick cock and imagined his mother crying out in delight as he thrust it into her, hard and deep, over and over, again and again.

He had had other girlfriends, of course. Don was no virgin. Picking up girls was easy for him. Keeping them was another matter. He really needed to get a real job, one that paid enough for him to leave home and get a place of his own. Although it wasn't a bad job, really. He had a handful of regulars now, and word was getting around.

He listened through the wall to her cries of pleasure, and imagined his hard cock ramming into her until they came together, mother and son united in illicit ecstasy.

*

One good thing about having Will for a stepdad was Don getting a van for his nineteenth. "An investment," Will had said, handing him the key. Don would have preferred something flashier, a new Tesla maybe, but the van was good for business.

Mrs Johnson's hedge had certainly needed trimming - the one outside, anyway. The one inside had proved to be very neatly trimmed already. "You must be thirsty," she'd said after watching him cut and shape and tidy up.

The weather was warm and the midday sun bright, and he had been glad to escape into the cool interior. It took no special intuition to perceive her true intent in inviting him within. Her yellow mini dress showed off her cleavage and reached down to about mid-thigh level. Her legs were bare all the way down to her painted toenails.

Don was proving to be popular with bored, horny housewives. Most just liked to watch him. Mrs Johnson wanted more. While Don drank lemonade, she opened the washing machine and started emptying it into a laundry basket. In doing so, she gave Don a more than generous view of her rear, her lack of panties perfectly clear, her pussy visible between her parted thighs.

She knelt and, as if to wrestle with some particularly stubborn sock, disappeared head and shoulders into the machine, only to cry out in alarm a moment later. "Oh, no," she called out. "I'm stuck. Can you pull me?"

Don laughed quietly at the absurdity of it, but was more than happy to play along. Kneeling behind the trapped and helpless Mrs Johnson, he tugged gently on her hips in a way that pulled the crotch of his jeans against her bum.

"I'm stuck!" she cried, her voice loud but muffled. "Help me!"

Don helped her by working two fingers into her deliciously wet cunt. "What are you doing?" she cried out, while also pressing back to encourage him. With his other hand, Don worked his achingly hard cock free of his jeans, and it pressed urgently against her soft cheeks. "Don't!" she pleaded. "What if my husband comes home!"

A ridiculous fantasy, but Don loved it. He guided his throbbing cock to her offered pussy. If he was gaining customers as much because of the reputation of his cock as the quality of his gardening work, Don certainly wasn't going to complain. Mrs Johnson wasn't the first to make him feel like he was a living porn cliche. Far better than a boring office job. "Oh God," she cried as he thrust in. "It's so big!"

Women loved a big cock - until they didn't. A hot, rough encounter like this was great. Mrs Johnson had been ready for him. Regular girlfriends, on the other hand, needed lots of foreplay and would whine about how much it hurt them. He worked another hard, thick inch of cock into Mrs Johnson's hot, tight cunt, loving her little squeal of pleasure.

Don loved pussy, and Mrs Johnson's MILF pussy was perfect. Her two sons were at school, her husband at work, and she hadn't insisted on a condom or anything. He wondered if she had an IUD or something to prevent pregnancy, or whether she maybe had a breeding kink or whatever. Don didn't mind either way. He just wanted to come deep inside her, and if she did become pregnant he was pretty sure she'd tell no one who the father really was.

His initial slow thrusts developed into a deep, steady rhythm, until the full length of his rigid cock was driving into her, his hips slamming against her cheeks. Her cries and whimpers echoed within the steel drum of the machine as she climaxed, her cunt contracting deliciously, but of course he was far from done himself. Don didn't care particularly if he hurt her a little. He wanted her to feel this fucking for days. If Mrs Johnson wanted gentle sex, she had a husband for that.

Part of him hoped her husband would come home early, just as Don was finishing, so he could see what an unfaithful slut his wife was, and hear and see how much she loved a huge cock, and afterwards he would see another man's cum dripping from his wife's well fucked pussy.

Don grinned as he hammered away with lustful delight. Every thrust of his cock into her tight, wet cunt pushed him a little closer to finishing. The tension built in him inexorably, almost painfully. "Oh God," Mrs Johnson cried. "Oh God." Until suddenly he was there, his cock like iron inside her, hard and brutal, before giving way to relief, to exquisite convulsions, his cock pulsing joyfully as his cum flooded into the deepest parts of her contracting cunt. Mrs Johnson had climaxed again too.

"I think that deserves a tip," she said afterwards, adding an extra fifty to his pay for the hedge trimming.

Don thought she looked beautiful. Her long, dark hair was a mess, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment, and her chest flushed from multiple orgasms. Her thighs and pussy were slick with their combined cum, and the smells of sex and fabric conditioner filled the air of the kitchen. "Do call me again," he said. Maybe next time he'd get to fuck her mouth and tits too.

"I will," she said, smiling shyly.

As he drove home to get some lunch, Don wondered what he would do if he found his mother stuck in the washing machine, trapped with her pussy exposed and available to him.

*

Erica cursed herself for the stupidity of not disposing of the letter properly. How Xara had found it in the depths of the kitchen bin, Erica had no idea. She cursed herself for even getting the test in the first place - but Erica had had to know. The not knowing had bothered her more than the risk of discovering Alice wasn't Will's daughter. The suspicion that she wasn't, and that one day Will would discover that she wasn't, kept her awake at nights.

Because Alice was what bound Will to her. Alice was the key that opened Will's heart - and, more importantly, his bank account too. After years of pawning and selling every scrap of jewellery she owned just to maintain her lifestyle, being married to Will was heavenly. The sex wasn't bad either, although she often wished he were more of a man, more dominant, rougher, bigger.

Big like Don. Her son. It was difficult not to feel a measure of pride in her son. Don was handsome, athletic, and very well endowed. He had his father's cock. Charles had been a horny old bastard, his little blue pills keeping him hard, and very satisfyingly so. The sex had been great, but the reading of the will had been better.