The Good Neighbors Ch. 05

He'd barely fallen asleep when there was a knock at his bedroom door. He slipped open an eye, and the room was suddenly bright. The knock rang out again. He grabbed at his phone, and saw that it was nearly eleven.

"I'm up," he called out.

He kicked his clothes from the night before deeper under his bed, in case his mother tried to wash them. He didn't want her to notice the 'unique' smell of it.

"Chores, mister," she told him, the moment he peeked his head from the door.

He followed her back to the kitchen with slumped shoulders.

"I'm talking vacuum, scrubbing, trash, dishes. I'm putting you to work."

"I just worked all night," he said, pulling a box of cereal down from the cabinet. "It can't wait?"

"No, it can't," his mother shot back. "If you hadn't run away from me last night, I could have told you."

He emptied a bottle of milk into his bowl and sat down at the island, waiting for her to go on.

"Mrs. Hastings caught me the other day. We started talking -you know I was saying the other day about how I missed having friends around."

Tommy set his spoon back down, suddenly no longer hungry.

"Well, now they're coming over to dinner," his mother said.

"Who?"

"What do you mean, 'who?' I just told you. Her and Marty."

Tommy pushed the spoon back into his mouth. "Tonight?" he asked between bites.

"That's right, tonight. So hurry up and finish eating. They'll be here by six." She began to empty groceries into the fridge. "I could have used your help carrying these in, you know." He rolled his eyes and nodded. "Oh, and Mrs. Hastings said she'll need you, too."

Tommy swallowed down a mouthful. "She did?" he asked. It certainly sounded like Mrs. Hastings, though.

"Don't be like that. You can carry a few bags over. She said just come on through their backdoor."

Tommy blinked silently, unsure if that had been meant as a joke or not. Then he went back to his breakfast.

There weren't as many chores to do as she had threatened. But, when his mother saw him collapsing onto the couch a few hours later, she swatted him back off of it and found some more work for him to do.

By five o'clock, the table was set, the dessert was cooling, dinner was cooking, and the house was spotless. Tommy leaned against the wall and watched his father pop open a bottle of wine. His mother was dialing on her phone as she squatted down to watch the lasagna.

"Melissa? I've got a very bored young man over here for yo," she said, squeezing the phone against her shoulder as she watched the casserole bake. Tommy was certain he knew where this was leading.

"Uh huh. Will do," she said. Then she looked over her shoulder and found her son. "You're needed," she called over to him. But he was already heading toward the door.

Tommy walked to the back of the Hastings' house. He was stiffening already, like a trained response. He pulled at the glass door and went inside.

"Hello?" he called out, when he found no one inside the living room. The lights weren't even on.

"In here," he heard Mrs. Hastings call out. He dropped his shirt in the hall and was unbuckling his pants as he stepped into the room.

She was wearing a yellow sun dress and matching heels. Her dirty blonde hair spilled lightly over her exposed shoulders. She looked like the picture of summer.

"We don't have much time. Marty will be back in a few," she whispered.

Tommy's demand that the husband and wife always be together came suddenly to mind.

He tried to push it down, but she must have read it on his face. "He knows. I told him it was an emergency."

"What is?" Tommy asked.

A grin grew across her face and she began slipping up the tight dress with her fingertips. She was wearing nothing underneath. She turned around and brushed her round ass against the crotch of his boxers seductively.

Her hands stretched out across the sheets of her bed as she bent over the mattress. She thrust her ass higher into the air. He could see her hole was shining with oil already. He could see it gaping slightly, too, as she swirled it in front of his eyes.

"I need you to fuck me in the ass before the party," she moaned, thrusting her ass against him again. "I want to feel it dripping out of me. I want my tight little asshole to be so sore, Tommy. Would you do that for me? I need it so bad," she said, dragging her ass against his belly.

He dropped his underwear, took the lube from the table, and mounted her quickly.

It didn't take him long. He didn't even work up a sweat. The sight of his cock slipping into her tight hole brought him to the edge. The way the soft pillow of her ass slapped against his balls threw him right over it. It was too much to take.

He pulled the straps of her dress off her shoulders and stroked at her nipples with his fingers, still planting deeply inside of her. The teasing was mostly out of guilt, for having only given her a few seconds of action.

When his cock had deflated enough to slip out of her on its own, he wiped himself off on their bathroom towel and then left without another word.

The blush was still high on Mrs. Hastings' cheeks as they arrived for dinner. She looked at Tommy and dramatically winced as she sat down. But it was only for him to see.

They chose to eat inside because the day was still too hot. Mr. Hastings waited for Tommy to sit, then picked the chair closest to him. The boy expected a hand to find its way onto his cock sometime that night and, a moment later, he was proven right.

"We were just talking about how jealous we are that you have so many friends," Tommy's mother said, as they began to serve themselves.

"She was talking about that," his father corrected.

"I was talking to you about it," she replied. "How do you do it? Is it... a church thing?" his mother asked.

Tommy gulped, remembering his lie. He had forgotten to tell the Hastings about it. He tried to get Mrs. Hastings' attention, but she wasn't looking at him for once.

"Not really. Just some really fun people that we've gotten to know over the years. They're all so sweet. I think you would love them," Mrs. Hastings said.

Tommy's heart stopped.

"You know who'd they really get along with?" Mrs. Hastings went on, turning to her husband. "The Archers."

Mr. Hastings seemed doubtful. Then he thought about it for a moment and began to nod. "I could see that. He owns a restaurant, you know? Well, along with a couple of others. Great barbecue, though."

His father looked intrigued. "That does seem like someone I'd like to know."

I'll never talk to any of them again if they follow through with this, Tommy thought.

"Is that restaurant hiring, by chance?" Tommy's mother asked, nodding in his direction. The boy buried his face into his hands.

"Hm. I could ask," Mrs. Hastings replied.

"The catering jobs are nice, but I think it would be nice for him to have something steady."

"Oh, I think our friends will keep him busy enough," Mrs. Hastings said.

"The catering's only for the summer," Tommy cut in quickly. "If I got a regular job now, I would just have to quit again in a few weeks."

"That soon?" Mr. Hastings asked. Tommy saw the man's hand reach out, as if to grab Tommy's. The boy pulled his arms off the table quickly and nodded.