Under Her Apron pt. 1
By gnicholas74@yahoo.com
With Kelly set to jump her son, Donna reminisces about the joy of silencing his lippy pal.


- Hey folks, it's the author of the "Attitude Adjustments by Aunt Joan"
series. I'm back under a new e-mail with a similar story. Hope you enjoy.

Donna checked her watch for the 3rd time as she paced nervously in front of
her upstairs bedroom window. It was fast approaching 2:00 and still no signs
of Kelly. She gazed to the top of the street where the entrance from the main
turn-off curved into Cherry Lane. Donna's house sat at the end of a
cul-de-sac, and from her bedroom window she had a commanding view of the
suburban sprawl that was her street. Along the rows of houses people mowed
their lawns, played with their dogs and soaked up the afternoon sun. It was a
picture-perfect Spring day, a day of relaxation and reflection, but not for
Donna. She was a ball of nervous energy.

"She should be here by now," thought Donna as the minute hand on her watch
struck 2:00.

Then, as if on cue, a figure on a ten-speed turned the corner and rolled down
Cherry Lane. Donna instantly recognized Kelly. The athletic 14-year-old with
auburn hair peddled smoothly down the street wearing a yellow tank top, tight
fitting khaki shorts and running sneakers. She was toting a small backpack,
which, "undoubtedly has her judo gi and an energy drink in it," thought Donna,
allowing herself a quick smile.

Jack Hughes, Donna's neighbor from two houses down was out watering the lawn.
A nice enough fellow, he waved amiably at the cute girl as she peddled by.
Then, shamelessly followed her tight butt and thighs with his eyes as she
peddled past him.

"Uck! The nerve," thought Donna. "They're pigs, the whole lot of them! A
friendly smile to your face then leers and objectification as you walk away. I
bet the pervert would love nothing better than to give her a playful spray
with his hose. I'd love to see what would happen if he did. She'd be off that
bike in two seconds and two minutes later he'd be explaining two his wife how
he managed to get his head stuck between the wet thighs of a pissed off young
girl."

"Well not my boy!" thought Donna as she watched Kelly approach. "That will
never be my son. He's going to learn respect and consideration for women, even
If I have to beat it into him." It would be quite simple too, almost comical.
The 6-foot, 43-year-old wasn't your average PTA mom. Underneath that apron
lurked a second 2nd degree black belt. She had taken down her fair share of
grown men in her day. Before she became a mother, Donna fancied herself a
one-woman wrecking crew poised to rid the world of male chauvinism. And like
the Nancy Sinatra song went, "her boots were made for walking" and kicking and
stomping any man who tried to trifle with her. Since then, she had traded her
walking boots in for sensible heels and gardening gloves.

Sure it would be easy to take her son down a few pegs. She could probably
subdue him while making a batch of her famous walnut brownies at the same
time. The problem was, she couldn't bring herself to do it...not to her little
sweetie, not her little Bradley. She had coddled and sheltered him all his
life while instilling in him a sense of reverence for women. As a boy he was
Mommy's perfect little gentleman, "Yes mams and thank you mams" all the
livelong day long. A slight slap on the wrist or a grab by the scruff of the
neck was the only physical discipline that was needed. Now at the age of 16,
as he approached manhood, that vile testosterone started to flow through him
and the influences of those repugnant teenaged beasts at school started to
wash over him. Things had begun to change. Ever so slightly, the silent
current of rebellion had begun to seep into her well manicured and efficiently
run home. A few years back, Bradley's father challenged her on who wore the
pants in the house. He ended up wearing her pant-suite (with her legs still in
them) around his waist and neck all afternoon, before being kicked to the curb
for good.

The final straw with Bradley came last week when he had a friend over in the
basement. Donna was actually thrilled because Bradley had always been such a
quiet kid, teased and ignored by his classmates. He was, after-all, a momma's
boy and Donna knew well enough that she was mostly to blame for that. So, she
was happy to hear the rumblings of a guys hanging out in the basement. The
problem was some of the language that came wafting up from down there. She was
thumbing through her recipe books looking for nice souffl‚ when she got wind
of a tirade of "B -words" coming form the basement. It was all "Yeah Bitch!"
this and "You're my Bitch!" that. Donna knew that these were just euphemistic
expressions that were a part of young male bravado, but still, she wouldn't
tolerate it in her house.

She descended the basement stairs, her heels clicking on the linoleum steps.
Bradley's voice became hushed. He knew the sound of his mother's approaching
footsteps. However his new "friend" Gary was too dim to sense the approaching
danger.

"Hello," she said approaching the boys who were playing videogames, "I'm
Bradley's mother. I don't believe we've met." Donna's imposing figure blocked
out some of the basement light as she stood, hands on wide hips. She wore
stretched polyester high wasted pants, a white blouse and pearls. Her hair was
done up conservatively and she wore bright red-lipstick and pearl earrings.
She was a June Cleaver gone fitness model.

"Bradley?" the kid chuckled looking at her son. Donna knew he was going by
"Brad" at school nowadays and it was ok, but at home he was still Bradley?

"Hullo Mrs. Herrington," the kid said with a smirk. "I'm Gary".

"Pleasure to meet you Gary," Donna said extending her hand. Gary reached out
meekly all the while looking around the room trying to avoid eye contact. He
was a punk-kid who folded under the pressure of an adult confrontation. At
least Bradley was polite enough to properly meet the eyes of a grown woman and
introduce himself.

"Gary, I'd like you to feel free to enjoy yourself in my home, but I have
certain ground rules that you will need to follow," she said coldly.

The kid was puzzled, not even aware that he may have said anything improper.

"I don't allow language that is degrading or hurtful to anyone. And I
specifically disapprove of the word 'Bitch'. Do I make myself clear?" she
said, boring a hole into his head with her blue-eyed gaze. Bradley was frozen
solid, half frightened and half mortified from the confrontation.

"Do I make myself clear?" she repeated.

"Yeah," responded the half-smiling boy.

"Good." She said turning on her heels to walk out.

"What-ev, yo!" Said Gary giggling under his breath. He went to high-five
Bradley, but found no camaraderie there.

Donna stopped dead in her tracks, her high round ass locking into place, her
shoulder muscles tensing under her blouse. She turned her had back around over
her shoulders and shot molten daggers at the sniveling boy. Slowly she spun
around and advanced on him.

"Perhaps you don't know what the word 'Bitch' means," she said as she reached
out and grabbed his wrist yanking the boy from his seat and sending the video
game controller skidding across the ground. Donna applied a basic, but
painful, wristlock forcing the punk to buckle at the knees. He yelped in pain,
his face bright red from surprise and shock.

"A Bitch," she said twisting his wrist, "is a female dog. Do you see any dogs
down here? Do - you - see - any - dogs - Gary?" She said shaking him and
annunciating the words while maintaining the lock.

"N..n...no," he stammered.

"The only dog I see down here is you," said Donna through gritted teeth. "Your
behavior and attitude is consistent with that of a common dog and to prove it,
I want you to BARK like a dog."

"Whaaa!" the kid said in terror lifting his wide-eyes up to her for the first
time.

"I said, I want you to bark like a dog Gary," Donna said gaining her
composure. "Now Bark." With that, she wrenched in the lock and kicked the back
of his leg with her heel sending him to one knee. He hung his head low holding
his stuck arm at the shoulder. Donna lifted his bent wrist up and out in front
of her giving him the appearance of a boy chained high to a wall.

"What the fu..what the fuck..?" The kid said panting.

"Mom, let him go. You're hurting him!" came a sudden, defiant voice from
Bradley's direction. Donna was stunned for an instant. She couldn't remember
ever hearing Bradley's voice rise above a loud conversation.

She robotically peered over to Bradley who was now on his feet, legs visibly
shaking. It was the very first act of rebellion she had every seen from him.
"Mom, please your embarrassing me," his tone now more pleading under the gaze
of his imposing mother.

"Bradley Joseph...don't you EVER speak to me like that, do you understand? Now
you sit down young man!" She said in the most vicious growl she could muster.
Bradley didn't so much sit down as he was blown down with the commanding sound
of her voice. He crumpled back into his chair and fidgeted nervously with his
hands, his line of sight dropping to his mother's shiny heels.

"Now, I want to hear some barking." She said to the boy writhing at her feet.
She spread her legs wide and inched her hips toward the boy's hung head.

"Arf..Arff," he said meekly.

Donna smiled and switched her wristlock to a simple finger lock, one that she
could maintain with one hand. She reached down under the teen's chin and
lifted his face up to meet her gaze.

"Louder..." she sang out sweetly. The boy barked again, this time louder as
his eyes began welling up.

"Louder!" She said again now holding a hand full hair and positioning his face
inches from her waistline. The boy was now forced to bark into a wall of
curved polyester.

"Good. Now that we've learned something, it's time for you to go home. Say
good by to your friend, Bradley." She said turning to her son.

Donna walked up the stairs dragging the shuffling boy behind her. "I want you
to stay down here and think about your attitude young man," she said
admonishing her son. She slowly ascended the stairs jutting out her rump
knowing full well that the young boy was in tow inches behind her. She made a
long, humiliating show of it too, taking the steps slowly, two at a time. She
dragged the shuffling boy into the kitchen and re-applied the wristlock.

"Now, please give me your phone number. I want to call your mother." She said.

"But, wha..why..I didn't do anything!" he blurted out between shivers of pain.

"The phone number, mister." She said clamping down on her lock. "This is not a
debate!"

Gary squeaked out his number quickly. "Now, I want to have a private word with
her so...let's see," she mused checking her surroundings. "Oh...all right,"
she said as if convincing her self of something.

In a flash, she kicked his legs out from under him, once again sending him
thudding to his knees. Donna swung her leg out wide and straddled his
shoulders. She cupped his chin and pulled his head up between her thighs until
the back of it fit snuggly in the crotch of her pants. She crossed her heels
and secured him in a standing head scissor, noting that his head felt like a
small coconut compared to the brutish noggin of a full-grown man. Her full
thighs clamped down on his ears confining him to a prison of polyester. He was
deaf to the world save for the shuffling of fabric and the sound of his own
blood pumping through his head. Gary let out a low moan like a combat veteran
who had just been temporarily deafened by a mortar shell. Donna was, of
course, using no strength at all, just enough to confine him and turn the
sound down.

She bent over the counter and got her cordless. With one hand casually leaning
on the counter and her heels crossed below she called the number. Nothing
looked out of the ordinary save for the boy's head trapped between her thighs.

The call was short and sweet. As Donna suspected, Garry's mother failed to see
anything wrong with a little harmless language. "Another misogynist in the
making," thought Donna. "These women keep turning out crass apes. Am I the
only one who gives a damn about proper etiquette in a proper society?"

"Ok then...I will send him home. I think he's learned a lesson..." She said
sweetly to Gary's baffled mother all the while rolling her eyes. Donna shook
her head, hung up and sighed. What to do, what to do with this boy? Suddenly,
a pang of mischievousness came over her. She tensed up her legs and was
rewarded with a little squeal from Gary.

"Hmm, that felt good. Haven't had a man trapped in a while," she thought, "and
this one is barely a man at that."

Oh what the heck!" she thought making sure the basement door was still closed,
"just a quick bit of fun."

She put some slack between her legs and let the boy's head fall slightly
before grabbing it with her strong hands. Gently and slowly, she twisted his
head around, not wanting to injury his neck. She allowed for the rest of his
body to catch up to his spinning head as he shuffled awkwardly from his knees
to his butt. He really had no choice. Donna had him so that he was face up
looking straight up at her. She pulled him up tightly and secured his neck in
the polyester covered juncture of her thighs. His chin pressed firmly against
her crotch. His butt barely touching the floor, she hung him there with his
jaw wired shut. His face quickly went flush, his eyes filled up with water and
spilled down the side of his cheeks dropping onto the kitchen floor. Donna put
her hands on her hips and stared down into his stuck face.

She had him so tight, she could feel his Adam's apple sliding back and fourth
across her crotch as he choked and gulped for air. She arched her head back
and sighed, wells of satisfaction building up inside of her.

"Well now, it looks like you've ended up in a tight spot, doesn't it? She said
playfully tweaking his nose. "How does it feel to be bested by a woman, hmm?"
she said tensing her inner thigh muscles. She got nothing bit a gag and a
sputter in return

"I'll let you in on a little secret. I spoke to your mother and I told her
exactly what I was going to do to you, and do you know what she said? She said
'Good. He deserves it.' What do you think of that?" said Donna grinning at her
obvious lie.

Gary responded by closing his eyes and sending a fresh stream of tears down
his cheeks. Donna threw her head back and laughed heartily. She pinched his
carotid artery with her inner thigh muscles, pulsing them. She tucked her
crotch in ever so slightly then rolled it out, hips jutting forward in an
attempt to separate his head form his neck. She gasped a bit, feeling her bush
start to swell under her tight slacks.

She chewed at her bottom lip enjoying the crimson color his face was turning.
His eyelids were beginning to flutter as Donna began to lose herself in the
moment. Just then, through her mounting pleasure, a pang of guilt crept up
inside of her. The boy's face looked so serene and peaceful, probably because
Donna was massaging him to sleep. Nevertheless, she began to feel a bit sorry
for him. One minute you're playing video games in your friend's basement, the
next minute you're being humiliated by his mother upstairs in the kitchen. She
patted his head tenderly. He looked so pathetic and helpless trapped between
her rock-hard man-killers.

"Oh, what to do? What to do?" she thought tentatively.

She was torn. It was as if the proverbial angel and devil had popped up on her
shoulder. To her left, Donna saw herself dressed as a mini-angel in white
flowing robes. The angel spoke to her in florid tones. "Let him go. The boy
has learned his lesson. You must show him your compassion."

Suddenly, to the right, a mini Donna-devil popped up in red leather PVC, heels
and fishnets.

"Screw him! Keep him there and feed him a piece of your special homemade pie!"
the devil said winking. The angel, looking around reluctantly, bowed to
pressure. "Oh all right...but hurry up before Bradley comes upstairs." With
that they both vanished. Donna spied her apron sitting on the butcher-block
table and an idea popped into her head.

"Well now," she said to the still agonizing Gary, "I was just in the middle of
baking a souffl‚ before I was so rudely interrupted by your tirade of curses.
So, I'm going to continue while carrying out your punishment."

Donna quickly tired her apron around her waist. "There now, I'm going to do a
little cooking while you do a little eating," she whispered deviously to
herself as she lowered the apron.

With the pangs of guilt covered beneath her, Donna widened her stance and
gripped the sides of her kitchen island block. She let the teen's head fall,
and holding a handful of hair, pinned him between her crotch and the kitchen
cupboards below. Quickly checking over her shoulder to make sure she was still
indeed alone, Donna hunched and cinched and maneuvered herself until she found
the sweet spot. Then, slowly she began to rub.

Muffled sounds came from under her apron. She widened her stance further and
leaned into her prey, her crotch forming a seal over the boy's mouth and nose,
the back of his head plastered against the cabinet drawer. She rubbed harder,
using her strong thighs as a base, almost in a karate 'horse" stance. The
polyester was rubbing out a rhythm like a slow rap song. Donna bit her lip and
her mouth slackened. She checked over her shoulder admiring her round ass
punching back and fourth. It reminded her of those "booty" dances she had seen
black girls doing on Mtv, much after Bradley had gone to bed of course.

The boy's head started to clack against the kitchen drawers making the souffl‚
pan bounce on the countertop. In the throws of ecstasy, Donna made a quick
decision to cut down on the racket, by pulling in closer and humping in tight
quick motions. As the first moans came out, she quickly grabbed the tip of her
apron with one hand and shoved it in her mouth like a bit. She looked down at
the top of the boy's head as she finished her last few punishing strokes. His
face completely covered his arms hang slack at his sides, she shoved more of
the apron in her mouth to silence the wave orgasmic screams.

When the dust had cleared, and the gushing was over she leaned over the
counter panting and perspiring, dazed and dizzy from her shuttering climax.
She felt Gary's begin to slide from her embrace and she could see his whole
body start falling to the side. Quickly, she steadied him and plastered his
mouth again with her now seeping pant- crotch. She wanted to milk the last few
aftershocks. "Oh, what Better Homes and Gardens would think of me now," she
thought laughing to herself as tiny waves of pleasure subsided in her

At the last tremor she gently let the boy down. He was out cold on the kitchen
floor, his red and puffed faced covered in juices like he had fallen asleep
face down on a leather sofa in a closed room in August. Donna lifted up her
apron to examine the massive wet spot in her polyesters. "Yikes," she thought
smelling the unmistakable scent of sweat and cum wafting up to her nostrils
"I'll keep the apron on for now."

Squatting next to the demolished teen, she patted his cheeks lightly. His eyes
began to flicker open. He brought his hands up to his head and moaned. Donna
waited a while then slowly helped him to his feet. Wordlessly, she offered him
a cold glass of water and he drank it while Donna rubbed his back as if aiding
someone who had just gotten sick. She took the glass, patted him on the back
and started to walk him out the front door. The kid's head hung like a man who
had just emerged from a long cryogenic sleep. She wasn't even sure he knew
what had happened to him. On the way out she politely handed him his books and
opened the door. Still in a daze, he looked at her in the doorway as if now
idea what to do next.

Donna hastily smoothed her apron down and looked at him blankly, "Well...be
good...uh, study hard and...do your chores." She said smiling awkwardly. She
ruffled his hair and pushed him gently out the door. He stumbled back over the
step and Donna shut the door on his blank face. She collapsed her back against
the door covering her mouth in silent laughter as if just coming home from an
awkward prom date.

"Study hard? Do your chores?" she laughed to herself.

Donna scampered into the upstairs bathroom, fixing her makeup and
straightening her blouse. She cinched her apron tight to her waist making sure
it covered her guilty stain. She chugged some water and looked at herself in
the mirror. The angel and devil popped up simultaneously.

"That was...unexpected" the angel said shyly, "I hope we've gotten that out of
our systems."

"When's Gary coming over again?!!" taunted the angel, savoring a cigarette.

Donna shook her head and laughed, clearing away her conscience. She quickly
got back into character, opened the basement steps and slowly descended. She
coolly approached Bradley; head high, looking down at him over the bridge of
her nose.

She felt a sudden tingle inside of her. There was something exhilarating about
hiding the remnants of her victory and domination under her thin apron. She
felt like a cat woman retracting her bloodied claws behind her back as she
approached an unsuspecting citizen. She widened her legs and shifted her
weight on one leg, jutting out her hip. The basement fan sent a breeze under
her fluttering apron, cooling the wetness on her thighs and crotch. Bradley
was upwind from her scent, as sat dejected and bored unaware of the creaming
she had just given his friend.

"Well, have you thought about your actions?" she said in a schoolteacher's
tone.

"Where's Gary?" he responded.

"I gave Gary some juice and sent him home," she said hiding a slight smile.
"Now I asked you a question."

"Yes Mam. I'm sorry." He relented.

"Sorry for what?" she pried, moving closer to him, feeling the excitement of
having her secret hidden just a few feet away from him, picturing Gary walking
home, trying to wipe the humiliation off of his face with his shirt sleeve.

"Sorry for questioning your authority," he sighed.

"Ok then, I just don't think Gary is the kind of person you should be friends
with, and I don't want him coming over again, OK kiddo?" she said nurturing
him. Bradley got up and trudged to the basement steps.

"He was the only friend I had!" he shouted at the foot of the stairs. "Now all
I have to hang out with is you! I hate you!" he screamed as he ran up the
stairs. Donna's breath had been knocked from her. Before she knew it, he was
up in his room with the door locked. She gave chase but he was too quick.

"You open this door now, young man!" she demanded. Getting no answer Donna
stepped away from the door beside herself. She paced frantically back and
fourth.

"You open this door now, OR ELSE!" she said, pounding on the thin plywood.

"I could...I could knock down the door...and get him...put him right there in
the cold mess his friend was just in 10 minutes ago!" she thought wildly.
"I'll turn his lights out, like that."

No, that wouldn't be right! I couldn't do it!" Donna said chomping on her
nails. She wasn't used to being so helpless, "He's growing out of
control...What to do?...What to do?"

"...What to do?" Donna said audibly at her bedroom window coming out of her
daydream. She had replayed the scenario on that fateful day over and over and
over again. And now here she was, a week later, staring down at the perky
14-year-old girl walking her bike up the driveway - only this was no ordinary
young girl. In Donna's grand scheme she played the role of mercenary, armed
with a cute smile, a brown belt and two boy-humbling legs.

"Oh, I hope this was the right decision," Donna thought as her mind shifted to
her sweet unsuspecting son mowing the lawn in the backyard

...To be continued.

As always, feedback and comments are welcome. E-mail me at
gnicholas74@yahoo.com