http://www.mrdouble.com




                        Naughty Mother


                          Chapter I

      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 from 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.



