This the third in a series, so you should read the other two first.
CAUTION: this story might be considered offensive by some. If you're easily offended, or just looking for tame, sexy erotica (as apposed to weird, fucked up erotica) then please don't read this story or anything else under this user name. My goal is not to offend, but simply to entertain.
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It worked for a while. I didn't see Billy again until a few months later. It was a Sunday evening in late autumn, one month to the day after Luke's 18th birthday.
Sundays mean two things in our house. Football and laundry. Specifically, I do the laundry, and Simon and Luke watch football.
Simon and Luke were in the living room, watching the game. Simon had already gone through one six pack and had started another. As was custom since Luke had turned 14, Simon let Luke have a beer as well. It bothered me a little bit, but it was a sort of father and son bonding thing, so I let it go. I would, however, yell at them when I caught Simon sneaking Luke more than just one beer. About a month and a half ago, Simon gave Luke so many beers that Luke passed out before the end of the third quarter.
I was splitting my time between the kitchen and the laundry room. I was making a small meal for the boys while doing the laundry, which was possible because the small laundry room was right off the kitchen. I was in the kitchen as much as possible so that I could keep an eye on them to make sure that Luke wasn't getting too drunk.
The laundry room was hot, as always. I was sweating a little as I sorted through Luke's dirty laundry. T-shirt, pants, t-shirt...as usual all of his dirty undies were stuffed down at the bottom. I pulled them out one-by-one and set them in a pile. The undies were always stuffed down at the bottom, like Luke was trying to hide them.
I'm not sure what he was thinking. He knew I did his laundry. One of the pairs was inside out as I pulled them out of the basket. As I lifted it, I couldn't take my eyes off of the crusted white stain on the crotch. Like hiding his undies at the bottom of the basket was going to prevent me from noticing that he had cum in every pair. Boys think their moms don't know what's going on, but we do. We were young once.
I put in a load of Simon's work shirts and started the machine. I walked out into the kitchen to check on the meal...and that's when I saw Billy.
He was sitting there on the couch, next to Simon, a beer in his hand. He wasn't watching the game though, he was looking straight through my soul. Shocked, I turned around quickly.
I stared at the stove for a moment, trying to regain my composure. I turned around again.
"Luke! Get in here!" I said in a stern but calm voice. Luke walked in sheepishly, his eyes unable to make contact with mine.
"What the hell is Billy doing here?" I said quietly but with the force of a train. "Didn't I tell you never to see him again?"
"It wasn't me mom," he said sheepishly, his breath tinged with too much cheap beer. "Dad invited him over."
"What?" I said. "How the hell did they meet?" I asked. Luke just shrugged his shoulders, still looking down at the floor. I stared at him for a moment. "Okay, okay, you're not in trouble, go back and watch your game. And don't drink any more beer!" I said loudly at the end. From the living room, I could hear my husband's slightly drunk voice say:
"Uh-oh son, we got you in trouble with the old lady again!"
I made sure the food was alright, then quickly ducked back into the laundry room to escape the situation. There was only about 45 minutes left before the game would be over, and I easily had another hour and a half of laundry...no problem, I'd just stay in the laundry room until Billy left.
I looked down and noticed that I had gotten some of the food I was making on my jeans. I quickly slipped them off and into the washer with Simon's shirts. I found an old skirt that was wasn't too dirty and slipped that on over my panties.
That's when I heard the door open behind me. I quickly turned around to see – it was Billy. I slowly and calmly turned back around to face the washer and dryer.
"Hi, Regina," Billy said.
"I told you, not to call me that," I said. Luke's dirty undies were sitting right in front of me, so I pretended to be busy with them. I was waiting for Billy to say something else, but he didn't, so I asked, "What do you want?"
"I just wanted to come say hi to you."
"Well you did, now go."
"Gee, that's not very polite, Mrs. C. Here I am a guest in your house and you're being rude. Your husband did invite me over, after all."
"How the hell did the two of you even meet?"
"It turns out he knows my dad." Billy said. I could hear the smile in his voice. There was a long awkward moment of silence.
"You have a little fuzz ball thing in your hair."
"What?" I said.
"You have a little fuzz ball thing in your hair. Let me get it."
"No!" I stepped away from Billy, turning to face him. "I can get it." My hand shot up to my head and my fingers began feeling their way through the jungle that was my hair.
"Higher," Billy said. I searched a little higher, but I was finding nothing. "To the left a little bit," he said again. I was having no luck. "Here, just let me get it out for you." Billy took a step towards me.
"No, I can get it." I said, raising my hands up to stop him.
"What are you afraid of, Regina?" he asked me, looking straight into my eyes. I stood there for a second, pondering the question.
What was I afraid of? I knew I wasn't going to have sex with him again. And I knew that he wouldn't force him self on me, not with my husband and son in the other room. I relaxed my stance, letting my arms fall casually back to my sides.
Billy reached up and pulled the fuzzy thing out of my hair. He held it in front of my face for a moment, and then let if fall to the ground.
"Thank you, now go back and watch the game," I said firmly. I took a confident step toward the washer, turning my back on him...dismissing him. I had beat him. I had beat the urge. My knees felt a little week, but that was okay.
And then suddenly he was right behind me, his mouth near my ear, and he whispered, "Were you afraid I'd do this?" And before I could react he was kissing my neck. That spot on my neck that I didn't even know existed. My Achilles Heel. A main line straight to my...oh my!
My knees buckled further. I felt light-headed. I had to grab the washing machine to steady my self.
"Or were you afraid that you'd like it if I did this," he whispered. His hands slid up underneath my arms, around my body, pulling me back into him. His mouth felt wonderful-warm and moist on my neck.
"Please don't," I whispered quietly. "Please..."
His lips massaging my neck, he only chuckled quietly.
"If you really wanted me to stop, you would have yelled, not whispered."
He was right. He turned me around to face him. I looked into his eyes.
"My husband is in the other room!" I whispered. He looked back at me for a moment, stared into my eyes until I thought he was going to burn holes in them.
Then his mouth was on mine and he was fully in control again.
His hand on my neck, his tongue parting my lips, darting in quickly. I sucked it in further, held on to it, massaged it. My hands were on his ass, squeezing, pulling him toward me. His hands were on my back, under my shirt, quickly working their way up to my bra and making short order of the clasp.
Then he pulled my shirt over my head in one quick motion, throwing it on the floor. I shrugged my bra off of my shoulders and on to the ground, letting my bare breasts hang free. His hands quickly filled the area vacated by the bra, covering my breasts. His hands felt warm and rough and big enough to break me.
We stood there as he began kneading my breasts. I looked up at him, looked into his eyes, and saw the fire there. My head was beginning to swim, ecstacy flowing from his hands through my nipples into my breasts and down my spine. My eyes closed and I leaned my head slightly backward. My hands reached out for him.
I grasped his belt buckle and quickly pulled it open, then unzipped his fly. I struggled only momentarily with the button of his pants before he reached down and undid it for me. His pants fell to the ground. He wore no underwear. I looked down at the prize.
His epic, eighteen-year-old cock stood at attention, hard and fat, waiting for me to fuck it.
I quickly turned around to face the washing machine again. I leaned forward over it, and reached back to pull my skirt up onto my back. Then I hooked my thumbs into the elastic band of my panties and began lowering them. I felt the damp cotton slide out from between my wet pussy lips as I lowered my panties to just below my ass.
