Chapter 2

The week passed without incident. Billy had kept his word about leaving the skateboard behind all week and assured me he’d been nice to his mom. I was looking forward to seeing her on Saturday while he was working to capitalize on Billy’s good behavior all week.

My responses to his queries about Janet, and more importantly to him, Wendy, were evasive to say the least, but somehow, I managed to keep the news of Janet’s disgust with me under wraps. The last thing I wanted was a Billy tirade and collateral sabotage of my plans for Saturday with his mom if her found out that Wendy wouldn’t see him because of me.

I knew I’d have to spill the beans Saturday afternoon, regardless of how well things went that morning. Billy’s father played golf on Saturdays so I was sure to have the grateful Mrs. Hammond to myself. I could hardly wait until the morning. I needed to do something to keep my mind occupied and make the clock run faster.

Dad was working late and Mom was downstairs listening to some mood music. I wandered over to my desk and opened the big drawer where I had put the dolls. I meant to pick up the one of Mrs. Hammond but my fingers passed over to the one of Mom. I picked it up and examined it. Several seconds later, I brushed my fingertips across its breasts and then turned it over to apply the same treatment to its ass. I picked up the paintbrush.

“Obla di, Obla da, On your knees, Ready to please,” I whispered.

I opened the door quietly and crept down the hall. Settling in behind the banister, I looked down on Mom, sitting with her back to me. Her head turned to the side as if she’d heard me and I froze but a moment later she carried on with what she was doing.

I set the doll in front of me between my legs and gently began working the bristles between the dolls legs, twirling the brush against the doll’s upper thighs. After several minutes of this, I heard a quiet moan from Mom and I smiled. Who would have thought I would become a believer in voodoo?

I know you’re lonely, Mom, so I’m going to get you off real nice.

The doll warmed in my hands but I expected that. I pulled the top off for better access and was only mildly surprised when Mom abruptly shed her shirt. She wasn’t wearing a bra so I was treated to an unbroken expanse of back skin with a intriguing spinal groove that ended between the swells of flesh that defined the upper reaches of Mom’s ass just above her pants. The way she was sitting, I could also see the swells of her right tit peeking out to the side. I moved the brush up and tickled it along the side and over the top of the doll’s breasts.

Do you like that, Mom, I thought as she wiggled in response. I bet you do.

I trailed the bristles as lovingly as I could around Mom’s chest, skirting her breasts but tickling the undersides and once or twice venturing south to dip between her legs for a quick pussy tease. After a very long while, I tugged the pants off the doll and watched with barely contained glee as Mom stood up and pushed her black stretchy pants down. Kicking them unceremoniously to the side, she was about to sit but changed her mind and pushed her panties down, then tossed them away with a flourish. She remained half-bent over for a few seconds, which allowed me to leisurely gaze at her bare ass and pouting pussy. As if reluctant to do so, she finally sat down.

Stunned, I sat for a moment, then pushed the doll onto its knees. Mom rocked forward onto all fours. I pressed the doll’s head lower and Mom lowered herself onto her elbows on the carpet. Carefully, I inserted the brush between the doll’s legs and started rubbing its pussy from behind. Mom’s ass rocked gently back and forth as if the bristles were touching her. I even thought I heard her whimper once or twice.

She looked so fucking hot, my trembling fingers could hardly manipulate the paintbrush. When Mom dropped her forehead onto the carpet, the sight of her naked ass blossoming toward me forced drool from the corner of my mouth onto the handle. I spared one eye to watch it ooze along the slender shaft until it coated the bristles and wetted the area between the doll’s legs. My cock became brittle when I detected the glistening presence of moisture between Mom’s quivering thighs.

I yanked my cock out of my pants and tucked it up underneath my shirt. Unable to handle it and fondle the doll at the same time, I squeezed my left elbow in to rub it against my stomach. The paintbrush twirled and spun, faster and faster. Mom had folded her elbows out and was now lying with her face on the mat, ass high in the air, humping an imaginary lover. If only I could leap over the banister and impale that beautiful, quivering, beckoning pussy! It was incredibly hard to resist the urge.

Mom’s hips suddenly slowed and a series of violent twists racked her body, tossing her ass around in a set of wild gyrations. The sight of her coming so hard triggered an explosion in my balls and forced a geyser up my shaft which burst inside my shirt in five or six huge spurts that painted my chest with sticky goo.

The next morning, well, about noon, really —I hadn’t been able to sleep until the wee hours of the morning and slept in— I was at Billy’s place to see his mother. There was no answer to the bell so I precociously opened the door and called out, something I would never have done before. Mrs. Hammond was waiting just inside the door.

“Come in and sit. I’ll be right back down, Jeffrey,” Mrs. Hammond spoke in a fairly husky voice. Her hand waved toward the living room before she turned away and walked slowly up the stairs.

Despite her instruction, I stood in the entranceway and watched her sashay up the stairs. Her gait was hard to describe in definite terms. It wasn’t quite saucy but was far from the way she normally walked. Halfway up, she turned and smiled at me. She didn’t repeat her instructions for me to sit down in the living room and didn’t seem upset to find me watching her. The black slacks she was wearing clung tightly to her butt, outlining a behind that, while smaller than optimal, was certainly worth looking at.

Mrs. Hammond turned away and I continued to examine her ass until she disappeared. She didn’t turn back to look at the top of the stairs but she had to know I was looking. With butterflies in my stomach, I went into the living room to wait for her return, choosing a seat on the couch by the window to wait for her return.

I became lost within a reverie of Mrs. Hammond’s gratitude for breaking the tie between Billy and his skateboard so she was halfway down the stairs before her light footfall penetrated my ears. I looked up and my mouth dropped open when I saw a vision approaching me.

Unreal. Mrs. Hammond was dressed in a scarlet silk evening dress with matching shoes. The dress hugged her slim thighs and hips before parting to reach up and over her shoulders. I knew by the way it curled around her neck that the dress left her back entirely bare. In front, the dress was cut deeply between her breasts, the gap revealing an uninterrupted stretch of skin that immediately advertised the absence of a bra. On either side, Mrs. Hammond’s smallish breasts nevertheless managed to announce themselves in a slinging projection that quivered with each step. That alone would have instantly stiffened my cock but, combined with the whole package —pretty smiling face, gorgeous hair, bare arms, well-oiled legs— was almost too much to bear. I almost came in my pants just looking at her. Mrs. Hammond stepped into the room and stopped a few feet in front of me.

“A gentleman always stands when a woman enters a room, Jeffrey,” she said, managing to incriminate but in a pleasant tone of voice.

I jumped to my feet, face flushed by her presence and the fact that I knew she had seen me staring at her with my mouth agape.

“Mr. Hammond is taking me out to a fancy luncheon and I just don’t know what to wear,” she mused. “Do you think this is too much for a restaurant, Jeffrey?”

“N-n-no,” I stammered as Mrs. Hammond slowly twirled in front of me.

I was right, her unblemished back was completely exposed and the dress dipped so low that the top of her ass cheeks were revealed. My eyes were still locked on them when Mrs. Hammond came fully about. She grasped my hands in hers.

“Are you sure, Jeffrey,” she asked through her perpetual smile. “You don’t think it’s too risqué?”

Mrs. Hammond arched her back slightly and brought our hands together in front of her, squeezing her breasts together and pushing them up. Abruptly, she pulled our hands apart while her breasts were still thrust forward, forcing the dress so tightly around them they stood out in stark relief, and the fact that only the dress covered them became painfully obvious. I wished I could adjust the boner bending inside my pants.

“Jeffrey?”

“Oh ... uh, no. It’s wonderful. Um, you look gorgeous, stunning.”

“Why, thank you, Jeffrey,” Mrs. Hammond glowed. She dropped my hands and grasped the lapels of the dress. “You don’t think it’s cut too low, do you? A bigger woman would be in danger of falling out, but I guess I needn’t worry about that.” Mrs. Hammond pulled the dress out and her slopey tits tumbled together, almost falling out of the dress. “Oops,” she cried, releasing the dress. “I guess I have just enough there to be worried about.”

She sure did. Mrs. Hammond seemed to be unaware that the dress, when released, hadn’t completely covered her left breast, and its nipple was now partially exposed.

“What about the back, Jeffrey?”

Mrs. Hammond spun half around, arching her back. I followed her curved spine down, seeing that her clear skin glistened almost as much as her oiled legs. She must have covered herself with some kind of body lotion. I noticed that the sheen carried right down into the crack of her ass. Pulling back a bit, as if applying professional scrutiny, I checked out her entire behind, searching for a panty line. I couldn’t see one.

“No,” I said, recovering a little. “It looks perfect.”

“What looks perfect, Jeffrey?” Mrs. Hammond asked in a definitely throaty voice, a sound that implied she knew exactly where I was looking.

“Uh, your ... I mean, you, look perfect.”