The Mom Next Door Ch. 01

Milt Stewart stomped on the Z4's gas pedal, taking the winding turns of the hillside outside Greenleaf at suicidal speeds.

Stewart didn't have a death wish. He was enraged and hurling toward a reckoning.

Nestled by the lake in the valley behind him sprawled the Oakmore Valley Resort. For ten years Stewart had managed the hotel and convention center with what his distant corporate bosses considered a remarkable and wholly unexpected success. An hour ago he'd left that all behind forever, turning over the keys, the passcodes, and the combination to the safe to young newcomer Tom Jacobs.

An unconscious smile curled Stewart's lips as he remembered the years of fun he'd had at the hotel, applying some creative and highly unorthodox "management techniques" to build it into the outstanding success it now was. He shook his head angrily as if physically shaking off the useless reverie. The dead past, he thought. All lost.

The car roared through the gate at the end of the road, screeching to a halt in the circular driveway in front of his house. Stewart paused at the door to take a last look around. The place was a sprawling, gorgeous old farmhouse that he and Ruth had been proud to see featured in a regional architectural publication when they'd finished renovating and rebuilding it. It had just been the two of them, in those years before the birth of their only child, Keith.

Milt wished that he could torch the place.

The front door wasn't locked. It swung inward freely when he touched the knob. The first floor was deserted.

"I know it's you, Milt." His wife's mocking voice crackled from the intercom. "You really should fix the exhaust on that little toy of yours."

"Goddamn you, Ruth, you..." his wife's throaty giggle interrupted his outburst.

"Come on up and face me," Ruth laughed. "We're in the master bedroom."

Of course they were. Stewart suddenly wished he'd packed his bags that morning and just headed out of state straight from the hotel. But no...there was an overlooked detail he needed to take care of, and so he squared his shoulders and climbed the stair. With each step, unwelcome imagination conjured up a moment from an old horror movie he and Ruth had once watched together, one of his first memories when they'd first moved in here: the long tracking shot down the hallway to Regan's bedroom in The Exorcist.

From just beyond the bedroom door he heard Ruth speaking in a low husky whisper and the deeper sound of a male voice answering back. Stewart couldn't make out their words over the roar of the shower, which was going full-blast.

He shoved the door wide open.

Ruth crouched on the striped sateen sheets of their French provincial four-poster bed, wearing only lilac-colored silk thong panties and slippers. She rested her cheek on the flat belly of a completely naked young man who lay on his back, arms casually folded behind his head. The fingers of her right hand curled gently around the base of his erect cock. Her sea-green eyes roamed dreamily up and down the impressive length of that cock-stalk, and her wet pink tongue flicked briefly at her upper lip as if anticipating a gourmet feast.

"Hiya, 'Boss,'" the young man said, smirking.

Upon recognizing Bobby Tilson, one of the resort hotel's bell staff, Stewart felt a mixture of both anger and unexpected relief. Bobby, seemingly unperturbed by his former boss's sudden appearance, reached out to run his fingers casually through Ruth's long curls. "You know, you got a swell wife."

Stewart just stood at the door, momentarily stunned speechless by the sight of his wife brazenly making love, in their marital bed, to a man less than half her own age.

This was far from was the worst shock she'd given him recently.

Ruth Stewart could only be called ravishing. Her skin was fair as a Scandinavian blonde's, yet her flowing shoulder-length hair was lush, dark burgundy red. At the age of forty-three and despite motherhood she'd maintained a trim, youthful figure, with full hips and large high breasts. Ruth looked up from Bobby's prick as if noticing her husband for the first time.

"Did you bring a gun?" she laughed. "Did you? No?" She snickered. "See, Bobby, I told you: Mr. Stewart is really nothing to worry about. A lot of talk, no balls. I'm sure he's just here to collect a few things on his way to the airport...aren't you, Milt? I've already packed your bags myself, dutiful wife that I am. They're in the front hall."

"You're going to pay for this. Count on it," Stewart barked. The words rang hollow, even to him. Ruth held his level gaze for several moments, then just smiled and returned her attention to Bobby. The corners of her mouth curled upward at the sight of a drop of clear seminal fluid oozing from his cum-slit...then another and another, rolling in a lazy stream down the long shaft.

"Mmm..." she sighed, raising her head and leaning closer to Bobby's fuckmeat. Her full, pink lips, unadorned by lipstick, parted slightly and molded themselves to the head of his cock. She moaned softly, aroused by the taste of his pre-cum.

To Stewart's horror, he felt his own dick hardening in his trousers as he watched.

"Excuse me, dear," she drawled, glancing back at Milt. "I really must attend to this. It won't take a minute." She was true to her word. She'd clearly brought Bobby to the brink of shooting his load before her husband had entered the room. Now, she opened her mouth wide and steadily lowered her head to engulf the young man's meaty pole. When she'd swallowed only half of it she stopped and held her head completely still, working her lips sensuously to massage his taut, sensitive flesh. Milt could tell that her tongue was moving inside her mouth, swirling and licking Bobby's prick, nudging him across that last little threshold toward an explosive cum.

Milt was a long-time expert observer of women sucking cocks.

Ruth's hand slipped downward. Her French-manicured fingertips caressed Bobby's swollen ball sack. In return, he slid his hand down along the hollow of her back and over her perfectly round ass, finally palming her pouting pussy mound. She shivered at his touch. He slid one big finger under the damp silk and slowly inserted it up between her cunt-lips.

"Ummph!" Ruth's eyes abruptly widened and her body stiffened. That momentary penetration was all that was required to set off her orgasm, at the very moment that Bobby started spewing jism down her throat. The delicate muscles of her long graceful neck rippled with her futile effort to swallow as quickly as he erupted. White cream oozed from the corners of her mouth. Saliva mixed with cum coated Bobby's pulsing prick as she raised her head up and released him, content now to feel the remaining spurts of his cumload splatter over her lips and tongue and splash across her face.

"Goddamn!" Bobby slumped back against the pillows, catching his breath. "Man, can this lady give blowjobs! And that's not just me talkin,' Mr. Stewart. Fuck, you can ask just about any guy in town."

The erotic spell broken, Milt Stewart's rage boiled over. He took two steps toward the bed, hands balled into fists. He knew that he could not match Bobby's raw physical power but was determined to fight and fall, broken, if necessary, to assert his masculine pride.

He stopped dead in his tracks. Someone had turned off the shower in the master bath.

Milt had been so shocked at the lewd spectacle of his wife and her young fuck-partner that he'd completely blocked out whatever had been going on in the bathroom. He turned and looked on in dread as the door opened and Keith, their son, stepped out.

"Hi, Dad." Keith flashed Milt a toothy, arrogant grin#&0151;the very mirror of his mother's mockery. Ruth had raised him after her own whorish heart.

Keith finished drying his belly and thighs and then dropped the towel onto the carpet behind him. He turned his back on his father, ignoring him, and walked toward the bed.

Keith Stewart was tall, lean, and built like a competitive swimmer, which he was: he'd twice set all-county records in the 400M freestyle while competing for Greenleaf High. He was a good-looking eighteen-year-old. But nothing about his physique would have hinted at his extraordinary sexual endowment. If Bobby Tilson had a big dick, then Keith Stewart was hung like Goliath. His cock jutted out now from its nest of dark pubic hair, hard as steel and nearly the length of his father's forearm.

Ruth's face was an obscenely beautiful mask of lust as she gazed at her naked son. She slipped a thumb under her thong's elastic waistband and, in one smooth motion, slid it down to her ankles and kicked it off. It landed at Milt's feet.

"Come here, darling," she whispered, beckoning her son with a crooked finger. "Mother's ready for the main event."

"Thanks a lot," Bobby joked. Ruth reached behind her and slapped him playfully on one muscular thigh, never taking her eyes away from Keith.

"You know where the kitchen is, stud," she told Bobby. "Go grab a cold one."

Bobby didn't bother to dress, shouldering Milt roughly to one side as he swaggered off down the hall to the main stairs.

"Ruth..." Milt croaked, begging. "Please...don't. Not again..."

"Shut up." Ruth hissed. She looked wonderingly up into Keith's eyes. Holding out her hand to him, she laid back on the rumpled, cum-stained bedsheets where she'd just sucked off another man, spread her slender legs wide, and offered herself to her son.

Milt's gorge rose. His wife and son didn't care that he was witness to their forbidden acts. They were not ashamed nor were they afraid of him. He was nothing to either of them now.

"You're really wet," Keith told his mother, kneeling between her thighs.

"You know sucking cock always does that to me," she replied. Her fingers played along the length of her son's prick, guiding the engorged head into the moist haven of her cuntal opening. "So you should be able to get this big fellow all the way inside me without too much trouble, this morning."

Keith leaned forward and thrust the first few inches of his giant cock into Ruth's waiting pussy. She grimaced, partly in pain but mainly from the intensity of her pleasure. Reaching up to place one hand on the back of his neck, she drew his face down close to hers and they kissed deeply. She mewled and opened her legs wider, arching her hips up to make it easier for her son to slide his massive prick further up her straining sex channel.

"Oh God, that's good," Ruth whispered in her son's ear. "Keep going, Baby. Give Mother your whole beautiful cock."

This was almost exactly how Milt Stewart had first discovered his wife and son together, three weeks ago.

On that first occasion, Stewart had been on the road for half an hour when he'd realized that he'd left some booking contracts he required for a client meeting sitting on his bedroom dresser. He'd turned the car around and returned to the house less than an hour after he'd first left.

Ruth and Keith had apparently not wasted a moment of his absence. He'd surprised them in this same bedroom, naked and fucking.

The image was seared in his memory: Ruth stretched out on her side, one leg extended over the sheets, the other cocked in the air and bent at the knee with her tiny, high-arched foot flexed downward at the ankle, lacquered toes pointed in erotic mimicry of a ballerina's cou-de-pied.

Keith lay behind his mother, slowly pumping that great thick club of a cock in and out of her pussy. The pliant white flesh of her big tits quivered in his hands as he rolled her stiff nipples between his fingers and thumbs. Eyes closed, their lips locked in an intimate kiss, the incestuous pair were so immersed in their pleasure that Milt doubted they'd have noticed right away if he'd just set the bed on fire with a blowtorch.

"Sweet Jesus," Ruth gasped, breaking the kiss at last. "honey, I'll never get used to how that big fuckrod of yours fills me up. Ooohh...you're stretching me to my limit!"

Keith's only response was to shorten his fuck-strokes and quicken his rhythm. His balls slapped against her cunt-lips with every thrust.

Milt saw that Ruth had shaved her pussy. This surprised him; their marital relationship had so deteriorated that he couldn't remember when he'd last seen her naked. Three months ago? Six? Whenever; Milt Stewart was a very busy man. Denuded as his wife's cunt was, he had an unobstructed view of their son's prick gliding in and out of her. Keith's shaft glistened with Ruth's cunt cream. The wiry hair surrounding his balls was drenched in his mother's juices.

Ruth opened her eyes and saw Milt. "Oh my God!" she yelped. Keith pulled out of her and leaped from the bed, protectively stepping between his father and his naked mother.

After her initial shock, Ruth quickly recovered much of her composure. "It's okay, honey," she told Keith. "Go on downstairs now."

"But Mom!"

"I'll be fine," Ruth rose to her knees but made no attempt to cover her nudity. Her pussy, so recently stuffed with cock, was open and her vulva still flushed with arousal. "Go on, now. Your father and I have some things to say to one another."

"You goddamned whore," Stewart roared, "You and that#&0151;that monster are both out on the street. I'll see that you'll have nowhere to hide in this town. I'll ruin you!"

"This place is in my name," Ruth had interrupted, surprisingly calm. "It was my daddy's wedding gift, remember? We were both so grateful. And as for you 'ruining me?' Wake up, Milton. What do you think is going on in Greenleaf?"

"Excuse me?"

"Well, after all, with all your so-important friends and their Rotary lunches, your endless 'networking' as you call it; you must at least hear rumors about the goings-on in our tidy, buttoned-up little town?"

Icy fingers of dread closed on Milt Stewart's heart. Yes, there were rumors...and more than just rumors, stories with names and faces: Nicole Crane leaving town, a wealthy young second husband on one arm and her teenaged son Brandon on the other for what the whisperers had dubbed a "honeymoon for three"...and whatever were Donna and Rachel Thornton, the minister's wife and daughter, up to with all those young men? What was going between Lucille Aldrich and her son and daughter? Lucille herself was in her early fifties, but you wouldn't know it to look at her. These last few years she dressed and carried herself like a nubile teen, turning heads and hardening cocks wherever she went in the borough. Hell, Milt himself had sometimes contemplated—

"No!" he shouted, near panic. "Good Lord, what's happened to this town? It's become a goddamn Sodom and Gomorrah!"

"What a quaint expression. I quite enjoy sodomy, myself," Ruth said in a matter-of-fact tone. "You know, Milt, the wanton ways of our little village have served you pretty well over the years. You and that brothel you call a resort. What, you think that's a secret? You're nothing but a pimp!" Ruth paused to let that sink in. "It's a bit late in the day for you to get knocked off your ass and become a crusader for decency."

"This is completely different! This is perversion!"

"You can call it that." Ruth had smiled wickedly as she spoke. "I call it liberation. Revolution. The men of Greenleaf have been all about their careers, their money, and their status for as long as anyone remembers. And you've enjoyed living your comfy self-centered lives.

"But as for us wives and mothers and daughters? You've no fucking idea who we are now, or what we want. I'll tell you who I am: I'm a slut. A happy, son-fucking slut, like a lot of other women in Greenleaf. You see, unlike you, I put my family first.

"So...that's the way it is, and how it's going to be, Milton. Make your peace with it. Or get out of town."

Milt Stewart had left. He'd taken a room at his own hotel. Humiliated but not helpless, he'd begun to plan his revenge.

The tart flavor of Bobby Tilson's jism lingered on Ruth Stewart's tongue as her son Keith slid his cock into her pussy. She loved the taste, and it didn't seem to trouble Keith either as their lips sealed together and tongues danced in a long lover's kiss. That was good. Her son's sexual education was proceeding nicely and she hoped that he'd prove to be just as uninhibited and free from hang-ups and boundaries as she was. Ruth looked forward to introducing him to a world and a lifetime of delightfully deviant practices.

She looked up at him lovingly now as he gently slid his prick a little further into her cunt. Together they had learned that it was best if he moved gradually at first, giving her enough time to adjust to his remarkable physical gift. Ruth was built very small down there, but fortunately she was also very elastic. She'd had hundreds of cocks up her fuck-tunnel and had never failed to accommodate and enjoy even the largest. She considered having a little cunt to be to her advantage because while being fucked by a big prick stretched and fully stimulated her cunt walls in an absolutely exquisite fashion, she could still enjoy occasional penetration by a more average dick...like Milton Stewart's.

She watched Milt standing there at the foot of the bed wearing that stupid defeated expression and briefly felt sorry for him. But sweet Jesus what did he expect from her? He'd never been faithful to her for a day of their marriage. He was stingy; they'd borrowed money from her family to get established here in Greenleaf and no matter how extravagantly his bosses had rewarded his success with the resort he'd never repaid more than a pittance. He'd neglected both her and Keith, devoting all of his time to lavishly servicing the resort's guests in every sense of the word. She'd been left to raise their son virtually alone.

There had been advantages to that, she admitted to herself. Now she reaped the carnal rewards.

"Why did you come back here this morning, Milt?" she asked him.

Milt Stewart glared murderously at his wife. "You'll have to find that out for yourself," he said evenly. "Have your fun now, you two. Because you're going to prison, my dear. I have resources you know nothing about."

There was an unfamiliar, dangerous edge to his voice that startled Ruth. For those few moments, he had her full attention.

Then Keith slid his hands up under her hips and lifted her pelvis off the bed, drilling the last few inches of his huge cock into her. All the breath went of her and waves of pleasure radiated through her body. He started rocking his hips back and forth, fucking her now with longer strokes. She automatically bucked and twisted against him, snaking her legs up and crossing her legs around his waist, sliding her slippered feet up and down his small hard asscheeks.

Her orgasm was sudden and all-consuming. "Oh God in Heaven that's it baby that's IT...fuck Mommy fuck Mommy fuck...fuck...fuck!"

When Ruth came back to earth Keith was still moving in her. Her son was not even close to coming himself, completely focused on continuing to satisfy his mother.

Milt was nowhere to be seen. Bobby was leaning on the doorframe sipping a Coors. "Old man split," he explained. "Hey, you thirsty?"

"Parched," Ruth giggled. She saw that Bobby was hard again. "And I hate beer." Her mouth watered as Bobby approached the bed, pulling on his prick. "Oh my, I hope you don't have to work this afternoon."

"Sorry, I gotta go in," Bobby replied, clapping his buddy Keith on the shoulder and moving closer to Ruth so that she could play with his nuts. "Have to meet the new boss. You know, Mister Stewart's replacement."

"Oh, right, Tom Jacobs," Ruth remembered. "Well, I hope he's nice." She smiled to herself. "Hell, a new man in Greenleaf? I hope he's hung."