Neighbourhood Mom

The oven door slammed, and I could hear Gina's heels make sharp reports on the linoleum as she walked over. As our neighbour stood next to my wife, who towered over her by almost a foot, I noticed for the first time just how *thin* Janice was. They both appeared to be wearing nothing but aprons, and I could see the stark difference between Gina's luscious curves and my wife's lean bony-ness. Jan's legs looked like sticks compared to Gina's sculpted muscle, and there was simply no contest between the slice of half-moon peeking out behind the curtain of our neighbour's apron and Jan's skinny little butt. I watched as Gina raised a finger to admonish Janice, looking up into my wife's peevish expression, and my mouth watered as a wealth milky sideboob came spilling out of her the apron as she did so.

"Don't you pressure him, young lady." The platinum blonde cautioned. "Marcus is free to choose whichever cookies he wants. Yours or mine," the ghostly hand brushed against my cock.

"In fact," she said, "I bet what he could really use right now is some milk to wash those cookies down. Here, sweetheart." Gina turned to face me, and reached behind her neck. The apron ties fell slack, and the front of her apron began to gracefully droop, then descend and-

I woke up. Sweating and short of breath and hard as a rock I sat ramrod-straight up in bed.

"Jesus, are you alright?" Jan's said, in a sleepy, pillow-muffled voice.

"Yeah, just- just a dream." She raised her head from the pillow, and regarded the huge tent I was pitching in the sheets. It had been a couple of weeks now since we'd last had sex.

"Must have been some dream," she said with a lazy smile. Under the sheets, her hand snaked over my thigh and wrapped around my cock. Unbidden, the thought of those moldy cookies, lying rotten on the plate filled my head, and my dick began to rapidly soften. She made a disgusted noise, and rolled over. "'S what I get for trying to be nice, I guess." Soon the soft noise of her snoring filled the room.

Still awash in sweat, I peeled myself out of the bed and padded downstairs to the kitchen, where I poured up a glass of milk, and retrieved a cupcake from the secret stash in the pots and pans cupboard. Chewing thoughtfully, I gazed out the kitchen window at the bright yellow bungalow next door; there was a light on in the back, and I could see a shadow moving behind a drawn shade.

"Wow, up and baking already?" I said, softly. I took another bite, letting the tingly warmth overwhelm my tongue. I knew I should be worried about Jan's reaction, about the way my cock reacted, about my dream, but it all seemed so distant, somehow. It was easier to just let go of the worry and eat my cupcake. Sitting at the island, watching the shadow pass back and forth, I let my mind conjure up the image of our neighbour, wondering if she was baking naked in heels, bending over her oven, pushing that cushioned behind out, licking batter from those long, slim fingers, getting frosting on her wet, crimson lips, so pouty and achingly kissable and-

I bit my lip and grunted, hunching over the countertop as I fisted my cock. I stuffed the last of the cupcake into my mouth, wondering what her nipples looked like, whether those milky, pendant, mature tits were still brimming with milk and if she'd let me drink from her to wash down whatever she happened to be baking for me over there, all luscious curves and silkysmooth skin and subtly spicy aroma and-

"Fffuck," I bit back a moan as a tidal wave of pleasure washed through me. Thick gouts of my own cum splattered noisily against the underside of the countertop as I milked it out, sucking the last of the cupcake frosting from my own fingers. I panted and shook and grunted as my orgasm swept through, eventually coming down to a kind of sober clarity as I felt my semen dripping back down onto my thighs, cold and spent.

"What the hell am I doing?" I stood up, and grabbed a fistful of paper towels. "Jesus, I need to get laid."

---

Not long after, Thursday morning found me seated in the kitchen, fingers idly drumming against the empty plastic container that had held Gina's cupcakes, watching the door with steadily growing anxiety. Our usual time -- ten o'clock -- came and went and nothing happened. By Noon, I was pacing the floor, wondering if I had done something wrong, if I had said something wrong. The notion was ridiculous, of course. Gina had been nothing but gentle and kind and sweet to me.

I wondered if something had happened to her. Glancing out the kitchen window, I saw her shadow passing back and forth behind the shade. My nameless fear somewhat assuaged, I sat back down on the stool and kept an eye on the door.

My stomach started growling around two, and I realized I hadn't eaten anything all day. Standing up, I stretched, popping aching joints in my knees and hips and began poking through the cupboards. Hunger gnawed at me but nothing in the pantry caught my eye, nor did anything in the refrigerator.

I slammed it shut and opened the tupperware, turning it upside down. A few crumbs sprinkled across the countertop, and I picked them up with a moistened fingertip.

I sat down again, suddenly embarrassed for getting all worked up over, what? cookies? I shook my head, stood up, opened all the cupboards, then closed them again.

I played with my phone. I washed down the counters. I swept the floors and scrubbed the sink and God help me I scraped the burned-on food from the glass surface of our stove.

"Holy shit what happened here?" Jan asked when she came home from the office at 5:30.

"Nothing," I said curtly. "I just cleaned. I do do that, you know."

"Alright, calm down." She raised her eyebrows. "What's for supper, anyway?"

"Fuck I don't know, but I'm so hungry."

"Did you eat at all today?"

"I don't remember." I said, sullen.

"Well, how about we go out somewhere for dinner?" Jan looked at her watch. "We can make a date of it, go to that Korean place you like."

I made a face. "I'm not really feeling up for going out. How about we order in and have a date night at home?"

"Sure!" Her features brightened immediately, as she walked over to the island and pulled open the drawer to fish out the phonebook. "Hey, where'd the tupperware come from?"

"Oh," I said. "Uh, I think it's Gi- whatshername's? The neighbour's?"

"Oh right," it was Jan's turn to pull a face. "The cookies. Well if she's not going to come back for it, I guess I'll walk it over." She picked up the container and a sudden wave of jealousy swept over me.

"NO!" I said, louder than I'd intended, but feeling suddenly very stupid about not having thought of that before. "I mean- I'll bring it back tomorrow, babe. How about we just get dinner?"

"Okay, okay Romeo," Jan said, smiling. She gave me a peck on the cheek. "That prescription toothpaste we got for you is finally kicking in, I think." Flipping open the phonebook, we picked a Chinese place more or less at random and phoned in a selection of our usual favourites.

"I'll be back in twenty, twenty-five minutes. Tops." Jan said. "Unless you want to come with?"

"No I'm good," I said. "Maybe I'll crack a bottle of wine while you're gone."

"Great idea!" She enthused. "Don't get into trouble while I'm out." I laughed.

A minute later, she was gone. As soon as I heard our car pull out of the driveway, my eyes drifted over to the tupperware. In my head, I quickly did the math on how long it would take to dart next door, see Gina, and swap the empty for another selection of goodies. Before Jan had turned off of our street, I was quietly slipping out the front door, container tucked under my arm.

As I crossed her lawn, for the first time, I noticed how long the grass in front of Gina's house seemed to be, and realized I'd never seen anybody out there mowing it. Maybe I'd offer to do it for her later, in exchange for an extra dozen cookies or something. Standing on her front step, I tapped my foot while the doorbell rang out a single, sonorous *BONG* after I pressed the button. Listening to the reverberations as they died away, I impatiently glanced around, looking for motion through gauzy curtains in her front window. Her doorframe and window trim looked like they were going rotten as well, flaking away under a thin veneer of whitewash. Up-close, the bright yellow siding appeared to be clapboard as well and-

"Marcus, *darling*! Hello!" Gina enthused as her door swung open, releasing a cloud of spicy warmth; a sudden relief washed through me. Her dress was black with white polka-dots and fell to knee-length; bright, pearlescent buttons traced down the front of it while a satin ribbon encircled her waist. A string of pearls lay in the deep V exposed by three undone buttons, and fell over the upper slopes of her cleavage. "What brings you over this lovely evening?"

"I-uh," I began, suddenly feeling like a 15 year old boy asking a girl to the spring formal. "I just wanted to-uh, I mean, I'm returning this, um-" I raised the empty container.

"Oh no!" She said, raising one delicate hand to her brightly-painted mouth. "Did I forget? Is today Thursday?" I nodded. "Well, luckily for you young man, I was *just* finishing a whole tray of cookies. Won't you come in?" Gina stood to one side, and waved me in. Grinning, I stepped inside her house.

The front hall was dark - poorly-lit and papered in a dismal green print. "Straight on down to the kitchen, Marcus." Gina said behind me as she shut the door. I followed her directions, but couldn't help peeking in on the rooms as they opened up off the hallway; there was a sitting room and a small study, both very dim and apparently very dusty. Motes of it hung thickly in the air as I passed by. The sound of my footsteps and Gina's tall black heels was swallowed up in the silence of the place even as we walked on the hardwood floors.

"There's no, uh, *Mister* Matronalis?" I asked. The sofa in the living room was buried under a thick plastic cover that looked as though it could withstand a nuclear blast.

"Oh no," she said, coming up behind me. "Not for many, many years. Which is not to say that I don't have my gentleman callers." A hand pressed into the small of my back and pushed me along with surprising strength. The kitchen, at least, was bright and polished, under the glare of the lights; every surface appeared to be immaculate: countertops, stovetop, refrigerator. A lime-green table ran the length of one wall. Its chrome bumper -- so much like my parents' that a chill ran down my spine -- shone.

Laid out on the table were a couple of thick ceramic bowls, freshly-cleaned and spotless, a single glass bowl with a wet-looking pastry brush and (most importantly) a wire rack full of cookies, glistening in the light. My mouth flooded with saliva instantly and I felt my heart-rate pick up. I looked back at Gina; a sly smile was creeping over those pillowy red lips.

"Can I...?" I said, gesturing at the table.

"Of course, dear." She waved me on. "Be careful. They're a still little sticky. I *just* finished glazing them."

"Glazing them?" I asked, picking one up and shoving it in my mouth. It was gooey and warm and I couldn't suppress a satisfied moan as that deliciousness, so much more intense than before, filled me up with warmth. My fingertips were slightly sticky with that gooey glaze, and I licked them clean after swallowing my cookie, savouring the spicy sweetness and feeling a new thrill between my legs. "Mmmmmm."

She laughed and strode past me to pick up the pastry brush. "That's my secret ingredient," Gina said. "Do you want to lick it clean?" I took the proffered brush and jammed it in my mouth, noisily slurping at it like a child, tongue searching the bristles for each particle. My neighbour watched as I did, idly fingering her pearl necklace while her gaze raked over me. "It's good, isn't it?" She asked in a slightly husky tone.

"Yeah," I agreed. "It's amazing. What is it?"

"Do you really want to know?" Gina bit a lip.

"God, yes." I enthused. "Tell me."

"It's an old family secret," she said. "But you have to promise me you won't tell anybody."

"I promise!" I said, without hesitation.

"It's no joke," Gina warned. "Do you swear on your life?"

I licked my lips, searching for a taste of her glaze. "Yes! I swear on my life, on whatever you want. Anything! Just tell me."

"I take promises *very* seriously, Marcus." She said. "There's no backing out of it. Give me your hand and swear." Gina extended one delicate hand.

"I swear, I promise, I solemnly give my oath I will not tell a soul." I took her hand. Gina's skin was warm but silky smooth, like nothing I'd felt before. Her hand slid from mine after a moment, and there was a sudden sharp pinch. "Ow! Shit." Looking down, there was a tiny streak of blood in my palm, and a pinhead bead of it welled out of a scratch.

"Oh I'm so sorry," she apologized, raising one long fingernail to her mouth. I watched as her tongue flickered out to touch it. "They're so sharp, sometimes I forget myself." Her fingernails traced down from her mouth over her pearls and the smooth skin of her cleavage. They drifted down past the ribbon cinching her waist.

"Now, are you ready to learn my little secret?" Her fingers dropped to the hem of her skirt, where they toyed with one of the little pearl buttons, popping it open. "There's so much more where that came from." Another button popped open, exposing thighs as smooth and pale as porcelain.

I licked my lips again, suddenly uncertain but powerfully aroused. "Yes?" I said, as a third button came undone. The upper reaches of Gina's thighs were coming into view, and I tried not to stare at the widening gap appearing in her skirt. "What- what are you-"

"What does it look like, silly?" Gina laughed, and popped three more buttons.

"Look, this is not what I was-" she parted the sides of her dress, and I stared, agog. Ironically, there was nothing to see; between her thighs was a smooth, featureless mound without crevice or crack, like a doll's.

"Oh I'm sorry, hon. I have to keep things closed up, otherwise it can get a little too intense, even for me." As I watched, Gina spread her legs wider, and suddenly a dark seam appeared at the apex of her thighs, splitting then running back between her legs; it was a long, narrow strip of the purest white that suddenly fell back and away from her in a loose, eight-inch paper-thin ribbon that hung down from between her buttocks and revealed a long, narrow slit of the lightest rose-pink. Liquid dripped from the chiselled chevron point of her new appendage, splattering on the floor. The room was suddenly full of the scent, *that* scent; I could taste it in the back of my throat.

"Oohhh, Marcus you have no idea how *good* this feels!" The skin along either side of that paper-cut-slim slit between her legs rippled and swelled up, then split like a time-lapse photograph of a crocus opening in the spring; six, thick, scarlet petals burst forth in a mesmerizing spiral, undulating gently around the oozing circular orifice in the middle. The sweet spiciness of her glaze hit me like a fist to the brain and I was suddenly overcome, senses reeling and overloaded; nausea and shock flooded through my body and I staggered backwards, away from her. That petite porcelain body, fully a foot shorter than my own, was somehow now radiant with power and imposing in that otherwise immaculate kitchen as that thick, sweet goo drooled from between her legs to pool between those mirror-black heels.

"Oh my God, what is- what are-" I fumbled for words as I stumbled over my own feet, crashing down on my behind; Gina towered over me, and ran a hand between her legs. Those petals there moved to grip and caress her fingers, which came away sticky with viscous fluid; her heels clicked loudly against the tiled floor as she stepped towards me, fingers outstretched.

"Does it matter?" She said, softly. My eyes locked on her fingers, on the goo cobwebbing between them, clear and sweet and spicy and so mouthwatering that I was drooling despite myself, even as I tried to scramble away.

"It's so cute when you try to resist," Gina said with a giggle. "Marcus honey, we're bonded now. I've been feeding myself into you for *weeks*; I'm *inside* you, coiled around your heart and soul. That's what the dreams are about, sweetheart. And now, you're inside of me. You couldn't escape even if you wanted to. Even if you could run out of this kitchen and into the next county, you'd still be bound to me." She dragged a cold finger over the bridge of my nose, then across my mouth. "Without me to feed you, you'll wither away and die in abject misery." My tongue flickered across my lips, and a momentary, heated bliss filled my head. "See how happy I can make you? It's even better straight from the source." Fingertips pushed past my lips and into my mouth, where I began suckling like a baby. Between her thighs, I could see those thick petals writhing like the arms of a starfish, viscous fluid pouring forth in thick gouts while the narrow ribbon between her legs lashed back and forth.

"Here. Try it." She yanked the fingers from my slack, anesthetized lips, and suddenly I was staring up at a pulsating, pouting mouth; cold hands slid through my hair and pushed my head forward. The undulating petals surrounding her orifice gently palpated my cheeks, forehead, chin, then grabbed my face with surprising force and dragged it inwards, creating a tight seal around my features. As my world became reduced to nothing but Gina's smell and taste, lips found mine, worked them open, and began to kiss with a will as her juices started to flow into my mouth. At first I struggled, desperate for air, pulling against her legs and thighs, but they were like columns of marble -- chilly and hard and immovable -- and I soon forgot about them anyway as gobbets of that sweet, spicy deliciousness filled my mouth and I had to swallow to keep from choking.

Warmth filled my body as Gina's juices ran down into my gullet, her spice seeking out and finding a home in every nook and cranny, every inch of skin, every last corner of my extremities. Hands were pulling her away started to push her in, and my tongue darted in and out of her hole, drawing out more and more of her deliciousness. Everything was my tongue and mouth and cock, all hot as a furnace and hungry for more. I don't know how I long I was held there, how long I held myself there, and I didn't seem to need (or want) to breathe anymore. All sustenance and succor came dripping out of the singularity at Gina's core.

Sometime later, she pulled my face from her molten self, and I blinked blearily upwards at her, as she smiled down upon me. I grinned back up at her beatifically, suffused with a heady satisfaction like I'd never known; pleasure thrilled throughout my body and brain.

"More...?" I gurgled, my face and throat thick with her secretions. "Gina, more?"

"I think it's more appropriate if you call me *Re*gina from now on, Marcus." She caressed my face with a cool hand, fingers dragging through the thick goo left plastered there. "I am your Queen now, after all."

"Sure, yes, of course." I said. "Regina. My Queen."

"I own you now, don't I my sweet?"

"Yes, whatever you say, Regina. You own me."

"Good boy," she said. "Did you know I had a servant named Marcus once before? Another lovely, good boy. Ah, Rome." She patted my cheek. "He was shorter than you, but broader. I wonder if that's the case all over?" Without warning, she dropped to her knees, legs athwart my prone body. There was a quiet, whispering noise as fabric tore under her fingernails, and suddenly my cock sprang free as she shredded my pants and underwear with a calculated swipe of her hand.

"Oh that *is* lovely," she said in a quiet voice. Regina pressed my rampant cock, swollen and leaking beyond all belief, against her belly, her skin like ice compared to my heated flesh, but her coolness had no effect on my erection. "I think you've fed enough, don't you? It's my turn."