Bully's Mom

Author's Note

Part 2 of the story about the weak-willed mother of a bully and the special bond she forms with the victim of her son's bullying.

Comments and constructive feedback are always appreciated.

*****

Main Characters

Sandy- 37 yo, 5', 100 pounds, divorced weak-willed single mother to Brad.

Brad- 18 yo, 6'2", 200 pounds, Sandy's son who is generally a bully both to Sandy and Fletcher

Fletcher- 18 yo, 5'4" 125 pounds, scrawny high school senior bullied by Brad.

*****

Bully's Mom Pt. 02

Sandy was walking on air Monday morning after her tryst with Fletcher the night before. She wore a huge smile on her face at the office, and more than a few coworkers asked why she was in such a chipper mood, although she just smiled coyly and shrugged her shoulders in response, denying there was anything special going on in her life. Nevertheless, she heard the whispers speculating that she had a boyfriend, which amused her to no end.

Part of her wanted to brag about her affair to the high heavens, but part of her reveled in the secret taboo nature of her relationship with Fletcher. As much as she wanted to tell her co-workers that she had met someone, she realized she could never introduce Fletcher as her lover to any of them, given he was still in high school and the same age as her son. None of them would understand, not that she could blame them. She wasn't sure she even fully understood it herself.

Still, she wore a Mona Lisa smile as she played the part of a plain strait laced single mother hiding a secret, namely a taboo whirlwind romance. Her newfound affair injected a spark into her life sorely missing for years, and she reveled in her secret life, being an unsuspected vixen, and that spark filled her with a boundless thrill. While she knew this feeling might not last forever, she was determined to enjoy it however long it lasted.

She giggled as she sat at her desk and read the incoming texts from Fletcher as they peppered her phone. The messages they traded back and forth were decidedly flirtatious, but then they turned outright raunchy as the day passed. She hid the phone under her desk, leery that someone might unknowingly peek over her shoulder and read the overtly sexual messages she was sending to her illicit lover.

Part of her felt like a silly teenage girl fawning over a boy. A teenaged boy at that, while she herself was a 37-year-old woman. Nevertheless, she spent her workday dreaming about Fletcher, although judging by his enthusiastic text replies, their attraction was completely mutual.

Sandy looked up at the clock on the wall and counted down the minutes until the workday ended, her pussy moistening in excitement over the prospect of being with her young lover again.

*****

Sandy opened the front door as she arrived home. As much as daydreaming about Fletcher lifted her spirits, she wanted to lie down for a bit before freshening herself up to visit Fletcher.

She was dismayed as she entered the house however to see two bookbags haphazardly thrown down on the floor in the middle of the entryway. She recognized the two bags and realized that her son, Brad, and his friend, Darren, were in the house.

She cursed their thoughtlessness under her breath as she carefully stepped around their bags, although she couldn't help wondering where she had gone wrong as a mother for her own son to turn out so selfish and inconsiderate.

"Mom, we're out of soda again?" Brad complained boorishly as soon as she entered the kitchen where he and Darren sat at a table eating snacks.

Sandy felt her blood pressure rising. "Would it kill you to drink some water?" she growled, instantly resenting his negativity.

"Don't have much of a choice at the moment, now do I?" he snapped back.

Sandy clenched her fists, but she took a deep breath and calmed herself down, although she didn't dignify his needling with a response, not wanting to get into a full-blown argument with a guest in the house.

"Don't give your mom such a hard time," Darren protested, much to Sandy's surprise.

Brad and Darren had been friends all through high school, although they always seemed like two peas from the same pod. He often visited their home, and his brutish, oafish persona matched well with Brad's. Darren often seemed every bit as crude, rude, and selfish as her own son, and together they often amplified the worst traits in each other, much to her chagrin.

Brad seemed knocked off balance by Darren's defense of his mother. "I was just pointing it out," he feebly muttered.

Darren smiled. "We're perfectly fine with water," he reassured her.

Sandy was disarmed, not used to Darren being so accommodating. "I'm glad to hear that," she said, her voice indicating her surprise.

"How was work today?" Darren followed up.

Sandy was about floored, feeling as if she had entered into a bizarro alternate universe. "It was a long day, but I'm glad to be home now," she said, her mood lifting as she filled a glass with ice and water from the fridge dispenser.

She turned around and was surprised to see Darren gazing at her, almost as if he was ogling her body, and she blushed in embarrassment. She had known him for years, but he barely ever acknowledged her presence, so this sudden spate of attention came as a shock.

"You look nice today, Sandy," Darren commented, all but confirming that he had taken a greater interest in her.

"T-Thank you," she stuttered nervously before quickly gulping down her water and rushing back to her bedroom.

"What the hell was that?" Brad's voice boomed from the kitchen after she was gone.

Sandy's ears perked up. Her door was open, and as loud and brash as both boys tended to be, their voices easily carried down the hallway to her room.

"What do you mean?" Darren laughed.

"It's like you were coming on to my mom or something?"

"I just said she looked nice," he insisted.

"I saw the way you looked at her," Brad accused him. "It's like how I look at Angela at school, except my mom ain't no Angela. What the hell?"

"I don't know. She's been dressing a little nicer lately, almost like she's showing herself off," Darren insisted. "I guess I never noticed before, but she doesn't have a bad body."

"Are you kidding?" Brad shot back, incredulous. "Have you lost your mind? She's all flat chested and flat assed."

"Who are you to talk? You don't even have a woman," Darren pointed out.

"At least I have standards," Brad insisted.

"Dude, your mom is totally fuckable," Darren remarked.

Sandy covered her mouth as she gasped in shock. Her heart was racing listening to her son's friend talk about her so crudely.

"Get the fuck out of here. You're out of your mind," Brad said loudly enough for the neighbors to hear.

Darren laughed heartily. "Dude, say what you want, but I'd totally tap that pussy."

"She hasn't even dated in years," Brad responded in exasperation. "No one is tapping that pussy. It's probably all dried up like a raisin."

"It just means she's probably lonely and desperate," Darren answered. "I bet your mom is a freak, and you've got no idea. If it's been that long, she'd probably jump the bones of any man who even gave her any attention."

"Dude, are you seriously trying to get in my mom's panties?"

"I don't know. I like to keep my options open," Darren responded.

Sandy's hands were shaking as she closed the door to her room. Her heart was racing, and she took a deep breath as she tried to calm her nerves. She needed to freshen up and prepare herself for one last tutoring session with Fletcher, and she tried to focus on that.

She had spent the past few weeks helping Fletcher prepare for his final exam, which he would take tomorrow. Both Fletcher and Brad had their last exams tomorrow, and then they'd both walk across the stage at graduation a week later.

It was the end of the school year, and the weather was growing warmer, so she opted for a light breezy summer dress, a floral print that reached halfway down her thighs with inch wide shoulder straps to wear to visit Fletcher.

He had wanted her to wear stockings, but she protested given the warm weather outside, although she agreed to wear a sexy set of bra and panties underneath. Sandy twirled in front of her mirror, and the dress flew up in the air, and her bare ass cheeks briefly appeared in the reflection, hanging out from her thong panties before the dress dropped down again.

At least it's not windy outside, she thought to herself.

Sandy undid her ponytail and combed her shoulder length brown hair straight, and then she applied a little make up to her face, just enough to cover her blemishes.

She strapped on a pair of sandals on a two-inch platform to give her a little extra height, that little extra confidence boost. Then she took one last look at herself in the mirror before leaving to see Fletcher.

She could still hear Brad and Darren talking in the kitchen, although now they had changed subjects and were discussing sports, but their earlier conversation still left her shaking.

She knew her relationship with Fletcher was fraught with peril, but they had bonded over so much shared pain and loneliness. Although now she couldn't help worrying that Darren's crude assessment of her sexual desperation was more accurate than she cared to admit.

She feared that Darren was right, that she would've given in to any man, or boy or gave her any attention. She questioned if Fletcher was really attracted to her, or if she was even genuinely attracted to him. Or was she really just a cheap easy lay who would've spread her legs for the first man to show her any interest?

She shook her head, worried all over again that maybe her relationship with Fletcher was nothing more than physical. She knew they couldn't be together in public as a couple, but even having a secret lover who genuinely care about her filled Sandy with more contentment than she'd felt in ages, and she tried to brush her concerns aside.

As she opened her bedroom door, she wiped a tear from her eye and held her head high. Maybe Fletcher wasn't a perfect lover, but life wasn't perfect, and anyway, she made him happy, so she decided to ignore all else.

As she walked past the kitchen, she said goodbye to her son, and Darren's eyes nearly popped out of his sockets when he saw her in a short dress. Her legs were long, and the two-inch heels accentuated her calves and thighs.

"Are you going back to your cult thing again?" Brad said dismissively.

"Yeah, it helps me feel good about myself," she responded with a wink as she turned to leave.

As Sandy closed the front door behind her, she smiled as she overheard Darren saying, "I think I might want to join a cult if the women are dressed like that."

"For Chrissake," Brad cried out.

*****

A half hour later, Sandy was naked in bed with Fletcher. They spent the first ten minutes after she arrived reviewing for his exam, but he obviously knew the material so thoroughly well inside and out that she was convinced he'd ace the test, so then she quickly succumbed to her lust and his advances, and they quickly made their way to his bedroom.

Now Fletcher suckled on her breast as he was grinding himself against her leg. Her sandals were still strapped to her feet, but that was the only stitch of clothing still on her body. Her dress, as well as her bra and panties, were strewn across the floor, having been tossed aside in the throes of passion as they rushed to undress each other.

Fletcher's jeans and tee shirt were lying in the corner, his underwear still inside his pants after Sandy had pulled them off in one swift motion, leaving her young lover wearing nothing but a pair of tube socks.

He let go of her teat and climbed up on top of her to begin making out. She tasted the afterschool snack of instant mac and cheese on his breath as his saliva mixed with hers. Their chests rubbed together as he ran his fingers through her hair.

"I would've been a straight A student if I had you as a teacher the whole way through high school," Fletcher breathed into her ear as his hard pecker poked at her vaginal opening.

She gasped as the tip of his cock incessantly teased her mound, practically knocking at the door, and she spread her legs wider, inviting him to enter.

"I want you inside me," she whispered back between kisses. "I want to feel you deep inside me."

Impatient, she reached down and wrapped her fingers around his cock, and then she lined it up with her opening.

"Don't ever make a woman beg for it," she warned him as she slid herself down and took him in her slot.

"You're such a slutty woman. You're all I could think about all day," Brad grinned.

Sandy felt a rush of adrenaline as his cock unleashed a burst of stimulation that sent shivers up and down her spine as she wrapped her legs around her young lover.

"All I could think about is being your slutty woman and letting you fuck me raw," she responded, still shocked at hearing herself talk so vulgarly, although she enjoyed the way Fletcher's face brightened when she did so.

He began fucking her, grinding his cock back and forth, his pole easily sliding through the folds of her sopping wet pussy.

"Oh God, that feels so good," she gushed.

"Back at you," Fletcher agreed as he began fucking her harder and harder, almost violently, his body slamming into hers and his cock driving deep into the depths of her pussy.

"Fletcher, are you in your room?" a voice called out from the other side of the house.

Sandy recognized the voice, although it took her a second to place it, but the startled look on Fletcher's face confirmed her worst fears. It was Fletcher's mother, Lisanne.

For a nanosecond, they shared a glance, and then they both sprung into full fledge panic.

Fletcher pushed himself up onto his knees on the bed as he rolled Sandy to the side.

She proceeded to roll off the edge of the bed and onto the floor below. For a nanosecond, her body was frozen, paralyzed in fear, but then she rolled under the bed, right as the bedroom door swung open.

"What the hell are you doing in here?" Lisanne glared at her naked son.

"I - I - I" he stuttered, clearly at a loss for words.

"Are you jerking off again?" she accused him. "Teenaged boys are always horny. What the hell? Can't you keep it in your pants?"

Sandy was pinned underneath the bed, curled up in the fetal position while naked and terrified of being discovered. She was trapped, but she tried to remain perfectly still, and she took deep slow breaths, not wanting to make so much as a peep that might alert Lisanne to her presence.

"What is this?" Lisanne asked, and Sandy saw a hand reach down and pick up her bra and panties. "Are these yours?" she asked incredulously.

"No, I mean, I don' t know," Fletcher answered awkwardly.

"Well, they either are or they aren't, young man. I guess it turns out I've got a faggot cross dressing son. Hell of a way for a mother to find out. Aren't I a lucky mother?" she lamented.

Sandy bit her tongue, desperately wanting to defend Fletcher against his mother, but deathly afraid of exposing her affair and incurring Lisanne's wrath herself. She realized that Fletcher was caught in an impossible situation, and she was helpless to aid him.

"I come home early from work and find my boy is one of them letters, the LGBTQ," Lisanne continued ranting. "Jesus, I can't leave you alone, can I?"

"I'm sorry I'm such an embarrassment," Fletcher retorted.

"Not half as sorry as I am," Lisanne fired back. "Now get some proper clothes on. I'll give you some money. I need you to run out to Fat Tony's and pick us up some gyros for dinner. You can take my car."

"But that's a half hour drive away," he protested. "And they always have a long line and slow service. It'll be at least an hour and a half before I can make it back. Why don't I just go around the corner?"

"Because I said so. Besides, that other place isn't half as good, and you know it, so you'd better get a move on," she responded firmly. "Besides, it'll give you time to think about your life and how you're fucking it all up."

Fletcher fumed. "What about... those?" he asked, pointing at Sandy's clothing still in his mother's hands.

"These women's clothes?" she scoffed. "I'm keeping them. I won't have a cross-dressing faggot son, and that's that."

"But - " Fletcher protested weakly.

"Now get some proper clothes on and get a move on. No son of mine is going to be parading around in a skimpy bra and panties of any kind, let alone a thong. Jesus," she vowed.

Sandy's heart sunk in her chest. She was racked with guilt over Fletcher taking the fall for Lisanne discovering her clothes in his room. Even worse, Sandy was still naked and trapped under the bed.

Sandy worried that Fletcher would be concerned about her, but she figured once the coast was clear she could borrow some of his clothes and sneak out the window to get back home. She had left her cell phone out in the kitchen, but hopefully Lisanne wouldn't notice it, and then she could just get it back later from Fletcher.

The afternoon had turned into an utter mess, but maybe she could still prevent it from turning into an unmitigated disaster.

Fletcher was shaking, his voice breaking. "What? Are you going to stand there and watch me get dressed," he protested as Lisanne stood like a statue watching over her son.

"I don't know right now if you're liable to pull out another pair of bra and panties," she responded in a testy tone. "I know you're a scrawny little bitch, but I'll be damned if I'm going to let you be a sissy. I'll make a man out of you yet."

Thoroughly humiliated, Fletcher picked his jeans and tee shirt up off the floor and put them back on.

"Don't you have any clean clothes?" his mother barked out.

Fletcher audibly sighed in frustration. "No, I'm all out of clothes. They're all in the washer. I haven't even put them in the dryer yet."

Sandy's heart stopped. Her prospects of escape were dashed. She realized she might have to wait until Fletcher returned and hope he could figure a way for her to get out unseen and with a shred of dignity.

Lisanne held out some cash and the car keys, and he snatched them from her hand, still fuming.

"I'll be back as soon as I can," he said, more so for Sandy's benefit than his mother's, although the context was lost on Lisanne.

"Just make sure to bring back enough food for the both of us," Lisanne reminded him with a suspicious eye.

Fletcher grumbled a response, and then he was off.

A minute later, Sandy heard the car pull out the driveway and motor away down the street.

"Finally. I never thought he'd leave," a man's voice spoke, making Sandy's ears perk up.

"I'm sorry you had to hear all that," Lisanne responded, her voice suddenly light and playful. "I thought it'd be a simple job sending him away for a bit so we could have some alone time, but I never expected to catch him in the middle of cross dressing. You should've seen his little pecker, all hard and at attention. He must really get off on this crap."

"That thong would look pretty sexy on you," he remarked.

"Please don't make me put on my son's thong. Especially when I'm already wearing my own," she said, and her skirt dropped to the floor only a few feet away from Sandy before she kicked it out into the hallway.

Sandy's eyes grew wide as she realized what was happening. Her body was sore from trying to stay still for so long without moving, but she didn't dare move and risk getting caught.

"How long do you think we have?" the mysterious man asked.

"At least an hour."

"I've been waiting a long time to get in your panties," he commented.

"I've been wanting you to get in my panties too, so no more talk about my faggot son. How about we focus on me and my needs," Lisanne proposed.