The Good Neighbors Ch. 08

Tommy opened the door to his house and made a quick break for his bedroom.

His mother jumped from her chair in the living nearly as quickly.

"Bathroom," he shouted out, and sprinted the last few steps. The door snapped shut behind him and the bolt slid into place.

He stripped himself quickly. Every inch of him was damp with the stink of sex. It had already seeped into his clothes just from the trip home.

As he picked up his jeans, there was an odd stiffness to them. He reached inside the pocket, and pulled out a stack of twenty dollar bills. He counted them quickly, shaking his head without surprise. It was nearly two hundred dollars, in all.

Tommy wasn't quite sure how Mr. Miller was feeling about him at the moment. The Millers had both hugged Tommy goodbye before they'd gotten into the car to bring him home. They must have slipped the money in then.

He had ridden up front with Mrs. Miller, and her husband had sat in the back. The three of them sat in silence for the whole trip home. He hadn't wanted to upset Mr. Miller, but he also wasn't too worried about whether or not he had.

Tommy and the man's wife had certainly had a good time, at least.

He showered quickly and then went to bed. He was too tired to see if his mother was still looming outside, eager to talk.

He'd barely fallen asleep when there was a knock at his bedroom door. He slipped open an eye, and the room was suddenly bright. The knock rang out again. He grabbed at his phone, and saw that it was nearly eleven.

"I'm up," he called out.

He kicked his clothes from the night before deeper under his bed, in case his mother tried to wash them. He didn't want her to notice the 'unique' smell of it.

"Chores, mister," she told him, the moment he peeked his head from the door.

He followed her back to the kitchen with slumped shoulders.

"I'm talking vacuum, scrubbing, trash, dishes. I'm putting you to work."

"I just worked all night," he said, pulling a box of cereal down from the cabinet. "It can't wait?"

"No, it can't," his mother shot back. "If you hadn't run away from me last night, I could have told you."

He emptied a bottle of milk into his bowl and sat down at the island, waiting for her to go on.

"Mrs. Hastings caught me the other day. We started talking -you know I was saying the other day about how I missed having friends around."

Tommy set his spoon back down, suddenly no longer hungry.

"Well, now they're coming over to dinner," his mother said.

"Who?"

"What do you mean, 'who?' I just told you. Her and Marty."

Tommy pushed the spoon back into his mouth. "Tonight?" he asked between bites.

"That's right, tonight. So hurry up and finish eating. They'll be here by six." She began to empty groceries into the fridge. "I could have used your help carrying these in, you know." He rolled his eyes and nodded. "Oh, and Mrs. Hastings said she'll need you, too."

Tommy swallowed down a mouthful. "She did?" he asked. It certainly sounded like Mrs. Hastings, though.

"Don't be like that. You can carry a few bags over. She said just come on through their backdoor."

Tommy blinked silently, unsure if that had been meant as a joke or not. Then he went back to his breakfast.

There weren't as many chores to do as she had threatened. But, when his mother saw him collapsing onto the couch a few hours later, she swatted him back off of it and found some more work for him to do.

By five o'clock, the table was set, the dessert was cooling, dinner was cooking, and the house was spotless. Tommy leaned against the wall and watched his father pop open a bottle of wine. His mother was dialing on her phone as she squatted down to watch the lasagna.

"Melissa? I've got a very bored young man over here for yo," she said, squeezing the phone against her shoulder as she watched the casserole bake. Tommy was certain he knew where this was leading.

"Uh huh. Will do," she said. Then she looked over her shoulder and found her son. "You're needed," she called over to him. But he was already heading toward the door.

Tommy walked to the back of the Hastings' house. He was stiffening already, like a trained response. He pulled at the glass door and went inside.

"Hello?" he called out, when he found no one inside the living room. The lights weren't even on.

"In here," he heard Mrs. Hastings call out. He dropped his shirt in the hall and was unbuckling his pants as he stepped into the room.

She was wearing a yellow sun dress and matching heels. Her dirty blonde hair spilled lightly over her exposed shoulders. She looked like the picture of summer.

"We don't have much time. Marty will be back in a few," she whispered.

Tommy's demand that the husband and wife always be together came suddenly to mind.

He tried to push it down, but she must have read it on his face. "He knows. I told him it was an emergency."

"What is?" Tommy asked.

A grin grew across her face and she began slipping up the tight dress with her fingertips. She was wearing nothing underneath. She turned around and brushed her round ass against the crotch of his boxers seductively.

Her hands stretched out across the sheets of her bed as she bent over the mattress. She thrust her ass higher into the air. He could see her hole was shining with oil already. He could see it gaping slightly, too, as she swirled it in front of his eyes.

"I need you to fuck me in the ass before the party," she moaned, thrusting her ass against him again. "I want to feel it dripping out of me. I want my tight little asshole to be so sore, Tommy. Would you do that for me? I need it so bad," she said, dragging her ass against his belly.

He dropped his underwear, took the lube from the table, and mounted her quickly.

It didn't take him long. He didn't even work up a sweat. The sight of his cock slipping into her tight hole brought him to the edge. The way the soft pillow of her ass slapped against his balls threw him right over it. It was too much to take.

He pulled the straps of her dress off her shoulders and stroked at her nipples with his fingers, still planting deeply inside of her. The teasing was mostly out of guilt, for having only given her a few seconds of action.

When his cock had deflated enough to slip out of her on its own, he wiped himself off on their bathroom towel and then left without another word.

The blush was still high on Mrs. Hastings' cheeks as they arrived for dinner. She looked at Tommy and dramatically winced as she sat down. But it was only for him to see.

They chose to eat inside because the day was still too hot. Mr. Hastings waited for Tommy to sit, then picked the chair closest to him. The boy expected a hand to find its way onto his cock sometime that night and, a moment later, he was proven right.

"We were just talking about how jealous we are that you have so many friends," Tommy's mother said, as they began to serve themselves.

"She was talking about that," his father corrected.

"I was talking to you about it," she replied. "How do you do it? Is it... a church thing?" his mother asked.

Tommy gulped, remembering his lie. He had forgotten to tell the Hastings about it. He tried to get Mrs. Hastings' attention, but she wasn't looking at him for once.

"Not really. Just some really fun people that we've gotten to know over the years. They're all so sweet. I think you would love them," Mrs. Hastings said.

Tommy's heart stopped.

"You know who'd they really get along with?" Mrs. Hastings went on, turning to her husband. "The Archers."

Mr. Hastings seemed doubtful. Then he thought about it for a moment and began to nod. "I could see that. He owns a restaurant, you know? Well, along with a couple of others. Great barbecue, though."

His father looked intrigued. "That does seem like someone I'd like to know."

I'll never talk to any of them again if they follow through with this, Tommy thought.

"Is that restaurant hiring, by chance?" Tommy's mother asked, nodding in his direction. The boy buried his face into his hands.

"Hm. I could ask," Mrs. Hastings replied.

"The catering jobs are nice, but I think it would be nice for him to have something steady."

"Oh, I think our friends will keep him busy enough," Mrs. Hastings said.

"The catering's only for the summer," Tommy cut in quickly. "If I got a regular job now, I would just have to quit again in a few weeks."

"That soon?" Mr. Hastings asked. Tommy saw the man's hand reach out, as if to grab Tommy's. The boy pulled his arms off the table quickly and nodded.

He tried to remember the exact day. "The first day of the second week in August?"

"They hardly get anytime off at all," Mrs. Hastings sighed.

"I think they have plenty," Tommy's mother said flatly.

He thought he only had to worry about Mr. Hastings' groping hands, but the man's wife turned out to be the bigger offender. Their rendezvous earlier had only seemed to whet her appetite.

Her hand stroked at his knee relentlessly under the table. She was two seats away, but she kept trying to pull his hand over and up her skirt. He pulled back each time she dragged him past the hemline. It was too far to stretch without being seen, but she didn't seem to care at all.

Tommy watched nervously as beers and cocktails were refilled. The color of everyone's cheeks was growing brighter. He could think of no excuse to leave early, so he sat silently, gritting his teeth. He stopped trying to figure out who was stroking at his cock. He was certain his face was redder than anyone else's by the time dessert was served.

"Oh, and the Millers," Mrs. Hastings said. "They're so sweet. I think you would love them," she shouted to Tommy's mother.

"Really?"

"They're the nicest person in the world. I'll text her right after this. And they adore your son. They really, really do. The things they said about him..." Mrs. Hastings added, flashing the boy a look.

"Well, I like them already then," Tommy's mother said, smiling widely.

He remembered Mr. Hastings saying that he had to spank his wife sometimes, when she acted up. He put it to the top of his to-do list.

"This weekend. The three of us. Girl's brunch," Mrs. Hastings announced. They clinked their glasses across the table. "We can talk all about our little Tommy. I'll set it up!"

Mrs. Hastings got up to use the bathroom. In the hallway, when no one else was looking, she pulled up her skirt to show him the smooth curve of her ass. She still wasn't wearing any underwear.

"We should do more dinners together," Tommy's mother said, when it was finally time to call it a night. "You're just a few feet away after all."

"Absolutely!" Mrs. Hastings replied.

"Tommy?" she said, holding out her hand to shake farewell. When the boy took it, she pulled him close and kissed him on the cheek. "For being such a hard worker!" she said.

"I'm next," Mr. Hastings called out. Everyone laughed, but Tommy knew it hadn't been a joke. He could see the hurt in the man's eye when he didn't get a kiss, too.

"Oh, I forgot to ask," Mrs. Hastings said, "Can you text me Tommy's number? The Millers were already asking for him to come back."

"So soon?" his mother gasped. "Do people really have that many parties?"

"You'll find out soon enough, after I'm done with you," Mrs. Hastings grinned at her.

"Well, texting it to you right now..."

"Got it," Mrs. Hastings said. "Thanks again!"

Mr. Hastings shook everyone's hand, and then they were gone.

Tommy helped his parents clean up the kitchen. By the time they were done, he was ready for bed again. Or at least ready to be done socializing.

He checked his phone as he got back to his room and locked the door. Ten new messages were waiting.

It was a new number and he was not surprised to find a series of up-close photos of her pussy and his cock waiting for him. Another came in as he scrolled through them. Cum was dribbling out of Mrs. Hastings' vagina, and her asshole was still slicked with lube. A dried white stain ran down from it. It was his cum from before, he suspected. It had been dribbling out of her all evening, just as she'd promised.

Tommy sighed. Then he sent them a picture of the bulge in his jeans. They replied quickly with a picture of Mr. Hastings' glistening cock. Tommy grimaced at that, then dropped his shorts to the ground and got into bed.

But, before he could send another, he remembered the way Mrs. Hastings had acted. And the plans she had put into motion. His annoyance and anger swelled in his chest.

"That's all you get. Tell my wife that I will SPANK HER ASS RAW tomorrow," he texted. "She's been too naughty for her own good," he added.

"I'll put her in line," the reply came back. And then, "If you sneak out now, we can tie her down and teach her properly ;)"

Glistening, clear fluid spilled down the front of Tommy's underwear as he pictured it. It was a crazy idea, though, wasn't it?

But who would be checking on him? He was an adult. His parents were asleep. And his door was locked.

He flicked open the latch of his window. He hadn't opened it since he was a child, but it slid open noiselessly all the same.

"On my way," he wrote them. "And tell our wife that I won't be holding back. She crossed too far over the line."

He slipped out onto the small stones of the foundation bed and passed through the bushes outside his room.

"You're making her so wet," the reply came back. There was a photo to prove it.

He knocked hard against their front door. He waited a long time for Mr. Hastings to finally open it and peek outside.

"You were serious?" he gasped, pulling his red robe tighter.

"Very serious," Tommy replied, pushing past him to step inside the house. His rage built as flashes of the evening ran back through his mind.

How dare she bring his parents into it? Was she drunk?

"Where the fuck is she?" he asked.

Mr. Hastings' eyes widened, suddenly looking nervous. "Oh, you're in trouble," he sang down the hallway, back toward their bedroom. That was where she was hiding.

For the second time that day, Tommy threw his shirt on the ground. He kicked open their bedroom door with his foot. Then he spotted her.

And then he got down to reprimanding his wife.