CHAPTER 8 — The Intervention: MILF’s good intentions backfire.
Stephanie Sizemore paced from kitchen to living room and back again, biting her nails and thinking. She’d hardly slept the night before; fighting through fitful dreams of uncontrollable climaxes and having to explain herself to the police. For a moment, she paused and wrinkled her forehead in obvious distress — the police — what if I Connie tells someone? The very thought of having to explain her lustful, illicit desire for her son’s huge cock was more than the woman could bear.
Over the past 24 hours she’d barely said two words to Damian. How could she? She’d run into Connie’s bedroom like a banshee, her own cum covering her legs and dress, and screamed for Damian to fuck her. It’s not sane! Mother’s don’t want to suck and fuck their sons, she told herself for the hundredth time…but yet, she did. She did want to feel that monster prick wedged up her cunt. She wanted to see the head swell just before plastering her face with a load of precious cum. She’d not slept due to fear of reprisal or shame over what she’d said, but out of heathen lust. Steph’s body was on fire: her pussy lips thick with passion, and her vagina running with the naughty images that constantly occupied her mind.
Damian had been usually quiet, fearing his mother was mad at him for giving into Mrs. Bustle’s overpowering charms. He’d never been so sexually charged, but to have his mother walk in, rather run in, while he was spraying cum like a firefighter at a bonfire — well — it was beyond belief. It was certainly not something he’d soon forget.
Looking back at the recent, unsettling event, Damian was torn between beaming in youthful triumph and cowering in shamed disgrace. The young man was so torn…so confused, yet, life goes on, and even now he was mowing Mrs. Pearl White’s yard as he’d done a dozen times.
Stephanie focused on the droning hum from their mower, knowing it and her son were just a few houses away. She stepped from the living room to their front porch and looked in the direction of Mrs. White’s home. Damian was hard at work, pushing the lawnmower back and forth over her expansive yard. He paused periodically to stoop and pluck a dandelion from the sod, before continuing the process of grooming the woman’s yard.
From a distance, Steph was unable to get a sense of her son’s mood but was pleased to see he was busy. Perhaps it’ll just blow over, she wished. But then, just as the thought had drifted through her mind, she saw Emily Ravenbach leave her home and walk swiftly to Pearl’s. “That’s odd,” Stephanie noted. “I wonder what she’s up to?”
She watched as Damian acknowledged the visitor, stopped the mower, and approached her. They bantered back and forth for a few seconds before Emily hugged the boy and climbed the steps of the stately White home. It appeared Pearl had been expecting the Ravenbach woman, as she greeted her at the door and welcomed her inside. Beyond her prying eyes, Steph wondered what the neighbors might be discussing. It was something she typically would have waved off as nothing, but today, with her anxiety and paranoia running wild, she fixated and ruminated on it.
Puzzled, Mrs. Sizemore lingered for another minute, watching her handsome son. She was so proud of him. He was thoughtful and kind, doing his best to make others happy. She’d heard it from so many and seen it herself. Even as much as her friends teased and tossed around innuendo, Stephanie knew they loved Damian and were helping to shape him into the man he would become. However, if Steph had known how much shaping her friends were doing, she may have intervened before finding Connie, covered in cum, coaxing Damian to pound her.
Stephanie was still undecided in the events of yesterday — had they made her angry, frustrated, horny, or a combination of all of these…and more. She couldn’t blame Damian, not really. He was an 18-year-old boy, fueled by hormones he scarcely understood. It was perfectly normal for him to be sexually active. How could he not be with a cock the size of a billy club and balls with a seemingly endless supply of semen? What did bother the middle-aged woman was the way she’d teased her son. She’d tried to pass it off as harmless fun, but she knew…she knew the titillating harassment was igniting a fire in her loins that seemed unquenchable. Maybe she’d driven Damian into Connie’s arms and the Bustle woman was not at fault. Anyway Stephanie tried to analyze the dilemma, the answer came out the same — she mustn’t succumb to her immoral needs and fuck her son. It was as plain and simple as that. She couldn’t…she wouldn’t…but oh, how desperately she wanted to.
“You’re a sick bitch, Steph,” she grumbled, turning to walk back into her house, but as she did she noticed another of her neighbors headed toward Pearl’s house. “What the hell,” she hissed.
It was Mrs. Wentworth, and she looked like a woman on a mission. şişli bayan escort She walked quickly, her head down and large bosom swaying rhythmically. She too stopped to have a brief discussion with Damian before entering the aforementioned residence. Not long after, Connie Bustle and Alice Bottomley exited their respective domiciles and made their way down the street toward Pearl’s, as well. Alice caught Stephanie staring and issued a reluctant wave.
They’re up to something, the Sizemore woman surmised. “Why haven’t I been invited?” she questioned aloud to herself. “I’ll tell you why, Steph. It’s because they’re talking about you and your perverted ways.”
The idea initially incensed the woman, but slowly anger gave way to concern. More than anything Steph’s curiosity was piqued and she had to know what the others were saying. Quickly returning inside, Stephanie gave herself a once over in the mirror. She looked fine; sun-quenched locks pulled back in a ponytail, lipstick a pale shade of rose, haltered tits slung tight with more than enough cleavage, and a loose pair of cotton shorts. She appeared like any other mother along the lane, ready for a beautiful sunny day with family and friends…but was she?
Laying caution aside and trying to appear innocuous, Stephanie Sizemore hustled down Titwhistle Lane. Her heart thumped and pulse raced with each hurried footstep, causing her ears to ring and vision to blur. Outside the large, colonial styled home Steph paused to catch her breath, as she did the tinnitus ebbed and her eyes cleared.
Damian had seen her coming and whipped the lawnmower around to see what she wanted. The two met near the front steps and the boy killed the engine. His brown hair was mussed and his bronzed skin lightly covered in a fine mist of sweat. His green eyes searched for why she might be there but nothing in her appearance or demeanor gave him a clue.
“What’s up?” he asked, pulling off his gloves.
“Oh…got lonely…thought I’d see how your day was going?”
“Not bad…not bad. I hope to be done around here in a few hours. Once the mowing is done, I’ll move to the…”
Steph cut Damian short and asked if he knew what was happening in the White home. “I saw some of my friends head this way a few minutes ago. Did they all go inside?”
“Um…I think so. I saw three of four of them. Why?”
Mrs. Sizemore casually switched from one foot to the other, anxious to get inside. “Okay then, I guess I’ll just join them.”
“Well, alright…maybe we can have lunch together when I’m done.” As Damian made the suggestion, his mother sidestepped him and climbed the few stairs to the porch. Hoping he still had her attention, Damian called after her, “I think we should talk. I think…”
Sadly, the boy’s words appeared to fall on deaf ears. He watched Steph slide through the front door and she was gone. “Oh well,” he sighed, starting the mower to complete his work.
Inside the front entryway, the Sizemore woman found the house to be eerily quiet. She stood motionless and strained to hear her friend’s voices. Slowly she moved forward, inching toward a large parlor where she suspected they would be meeting. Nearing a pair of oversized sliding doors, Stephanie realized her hunch was correct. Though the doors were closed there was just enough of a gap that she could hear their voices filtering into the hallway. Steph tiptoed as close as she dared and angled her ear accordingly.
“Well, I for one am no angel,” Connie said, which drew snickers from Alice and Emily, “but I was shocked. I mean…really, truly shocked.”
Stephanie was sure she knew what they were discussing but could only imagine what was actually happening inside the cordoned off room.
Pearl’s voice could suddenly be heard offering a return to a more serious tone. “Now ladies, please. This is no laughing matter if what Connie says is true. So please, Connie, tell me again what Mrs. Sizemore said.” The older woman was a widow of many years and lived in the grand old home alone. She was the matriarch of the lane and had seen her share of comings and goings, but this was the first she’d heard of anything as outlandish as what Mrs. Bustle was purporting.
Connie made eye contact with each of the women before she answered Pearl’s pointed question. “She said, and I’m not sure these are the exact words, but she said nobody was fucking her son before she did.”
“My heavens,” Pearl gasped. “And how did this come about? I mean, what was going on to have her make such an outrageous statement?”
From the other side of the door, Steph could just imagine the ladies having a field day at her expense. That is, all but poor Pearl, who sounded a bit out of the loop. Sizemore pictured the older woman, who was near 70, her slim figure wrapped in a shawl even though it was 90 degrees outside. Stephanie had long suspected Mrs. White of being far less of a prude than she portrayed, but who şişli escort knew?
“I think Connie was about the screw the young man, Pearl. At least, that’s what I gathered from the conversation we had last night,” Maggie Wentworth said, hoping to make things a bit clearer for their aged host.
“Connie, is that true? Were you going to have relations with the boy mowing my lawn?” Mrs White asked, incredulously.
Mrs. Bustle, without the least bit of shame, answered in the affirmative. “Well, I’ll tell ya Pearl, if you’d gotten a hold of a pecker as big as that boy’s you’d be wanting some relations too.” Again, the circle of women appeared to chuckle, but this time Mrs. White’s definitive squeak of a laugh joined in, at least Steph was sure she had.
When the women managed to get themselves under control, Maggie pressed forward with their unwritten agenda. “Okay ladies, Stephanie is our dearest friend and I know each and every one of us here today loves her boy too. Therefore, it behooves us to intervene and help them before something catastrophic happens.”
“Maybe it already has,” Emily chimed in. “They were alone all last night. Maybe Steph got her wish and rode that stud.”
“I doubt it,” Maggie confirmed. “I talked with Damian briefly before coming in and he said he and his mother really didn’t get much of a chance to talk last night or this morning.”
Emily furthered her opinion by stating what some of the others were thinking. “My point exactly. Ain’t much talking going on ’cause she’s humping the kid.”
“Oh, Emily. Let’s get back to why we’re here. Stephanie will listen to us. She’ll want to do the right thing,” Mrs. Wentworth continued.
“So…an intervention. That’s what you’re saying? Right?” asked Alice, trying to confirm where they went from here.
“Yes, don’t you all agree?” Pearl questioned, clutching a well-worn shawl to her neckline. The woman was pretty for her age. She’d done well to maintain a moderately trim figure, in addition to toned arms and legs. Her natural breasts were large and heavy, and had it not been for the ancient bra that looked like two missile silos, they would have hung to her waist. Pearl wore her graying hair short with a stylish little curl across her brow. At the moment, her steel-blue eyes were staring from beneath her horn-rimmed glasses, seeking confirmation from the circle of friends. She nodded approvingly as she went from woman to woman, obtaining a final consent. “Okay, I’ll make a call…”
Stephanie Sizemore knew an invitation when she heard one and burst through the sliding doors. It was quite an entrance, not unlike the one she’d done yesterday, but without the naked bodies, flying cum or vase. Her unexpected trespass brought a few well deserved gasps from her friends. “So…what y’all up to?” she asked, imitating Ms. Ravenbach.
Surprised beyond belief, Maggie blurted out, “How long have you been there? Have you been listening the entire time?”
“And if I had?” Stephanie shot back.
“Stephanie, dear, we’re concerned,” Mrs. White said tenderly. “We’re your friends.”
The tone did help Stephanie calm down, as she took a seat when invited by Alice to join her on a long, plush couch. Dropping onto a cushion, the women slid their chairs closer to form a tight circle around their troubled neighbor and friend.
“I don’t know what to say,” Stephanie began. “Where do I begin?”
Pearl sat next to Steph and put her arm around her shoulders, “We’re here for you. When did this start? Your…your trouble with Damian.”
“It’s not a trouble,” Stephanie explained. “It just kind of started as a joke a few weeks ago. I caught him jerking off and I happened to get a look at his…ah…his penis. It was so much bigger than I had ever imagined.”
Connie quickly interjected her two-cents worth and confirmed what she thought none of the other women knew for themselves. “Let me just stop you right there for a second, Stephanie. Listen ladies, that boy’s packing a beast. I can only imagine how difficult it must be for you, Steph, to have that swingin’ meat so close all the time and not be able to enjoy it. I got one taste of it and can’t stop thinking about having seconds.”
“Goodness me, Connie,” Pearl wheezed. “Such talk.”
“Well, anyway…” Mrs. Sizemore continued, pulling Pearl back from the brink of fainting. “I saw this ‘beast’ as Connie so appropriately called it and I couldn’t put it from my mind. I’ve been fucking everything in sight; the bedpost, my washer, anything that will get me off. I guess I just lost my head.”
“Poor thing,” Mrs. White whispered, drawing Steph even closer.
“And then, yesterday happened,” Steph said slowly. “I guess you know what took place at Connie’s.”
The circle of friends each nodded their understanding of the prior day’s events. Apparently, Mrs. Bustle had wasted no time in alerting the others when she feared Stephanie was totally out of control. mecidiyeköy escort
“So…that’s where we are. I’m struggling to know what to do with Damian and if he’ll ever forgive me, and the same for you all. I just feel terrible,” Stephanie’s words were offered sincerely and accepted by her friends as coming from her heart.
“Steph, we’re here for you,” Alice said, leaning to give her friend a light peck on the cheek. “We all are,” the fitness instructor continued, waving her hand to indicate all the women present.
“Thanks. It means a lot to me. It truly does…but I do have a few questions that may help me cope with this issue,” said Stephanie, desiring some insight of her own.
“Sure…anything,” Maggie agreed.
“Okay, where to start?” Damian’s mom began, her voice almost breaking under the strain. “Connie, can you explain how Damian came to be in your bedroom, and further to that, why was he stuffing his cock down your throat?” The directness of Steph’s question caught them all by surprise and brought a sense of guilt to more than one of the group.
“Um…um…it just happened. He caught me in a towel and one thing led to another and we ended up…you know…getting off,” Mrs. Bustle explained, using her fingertip to lightly touch at her lips while she remembered the taste of Damian’s cum. “I was only trying to help him. He obviously needed someone to take care of his trouble.”
“Fair enough,” the boy’s mother concurred. “He’s a big boy, 18 and all, but you didn’t take advantage of him…not even a little bit?”
“Maybe a teensy tiny bit,” Connie slowly confessed, “but I could tell he wanted it. His cock was ripping through his shorts to get at me.”
“I’m sure it was. You forget I’ve seen it myself and am quite sure it is capable of ripping through almost anything he might wear. However, this has got me thinking. You’re all so concerned about me…and rightly so. A mother shouldn’t just go around boffing her son, but what of you? You’re all older, well-established ladies, who have taken a special interest in Damian. I guess what I’m asking is this — how many of you have helped Damian the same way Connie did?”
Utter silence descended on the intervention. Nearly all eyes suddenly angled down…except for Stephanie’s, which were tracking from friend to friend to friend. I thought as much.
When she reached Mrs. White, their eyes met in a moment of extraordinary clarity — she appeared to be the only innocent party present. Shocked horror aptly described the look that gradually spread over Pearl’s face, as the gravity of the inaudible confessions gripped her. A trembling hand pressed to her lips and she offered a single, whimpering response, “Oh…my, my, my.”
Stephanie suddenly felt very much in charge and allowed her own guilty longings to take a backseat for a time. Her gaze swept the small crowd again, ultimately coming to rest on Connie, who had raised her eyes to stare about at the others. “Well, don’t look at me,” she said, “I’ve done my confession.”
“Good point, Connie. So…who’s been stooping my son?” Mrs. Sizemore questioned boldly.
It was the Ravenbach woman who spoke up first. She’d always believed confession was good for the soul, and heaven knew she’d spent too many sleepless nights rethinking, and fantasizing, about her afternoon with Damian. “Okay…so, I didn’t fuck nobody’s son. Let’s be clear about that. The boy’s got a thing for big, black, milky tits…who would have known. Anyway, I let him watch me…” Her voice trailed off when she realized most of her new friends were staring at her in feigned disbelief. “Oh…don’t you bitches judge me. I’ve seen y’all looking at Damian’s package. I’ll not feel guilty about a little bit of titty fucking.”
“Titty fucking?” Stephanie repeated.
“Yeah, I wrapped these black beauties around that boy’s huge cock,” she began, while using her hands to cup and squeeze her milk filled breasts, “and I let him slide that monster back and forth until he erupted.” She explained the encounter like it was a very rational, normal thing to do, but it still seemed to hold the other women spellbound. “What?” she finally asked, her Southern accent dripping with cynicism.
“So you didn’t screw him?” Stephanie finally asked, sounding somewhat relieved.
“No. He just covered me from head to toe with cum and that was it.”
Hearing of Damian’s experience with Emily, Stephanie’s already smoldering desires were lit anew. She instantly remembered yesterday’s scene and the volume of cum her son had ejaculated over Connie, as well as her own experience with her son’s slumbering explosion. Yet, she couldn’t continue with such feelings. She was to be repentant, reserved…anything but carnally aware of the seeping moisture that was lubricating her inner thighs.
“Well Emily, thanks for being honest,” Steph said, giving her friend a knowing nod. “Who’s next? Who else has taken advantage of Damian’s timid nature and naivety? Who else has tried to fuck my boy?”
“Stephanie, take it down a notch,” Mrs. Wentworth cautioned. “Sometimes things just happen. It’s not something we necessarily want to happen…but they just do.”