16-09-2020, 04:17 PM
Story 1
What a Mother-In-Law
by BarondeSade©
© 2002, Baron Darkside. ALL Rights Reserved.
No portion of this story may be reproduced for profit without the express written permission of the author...
This story is a work of fiction. The characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental...
An rewrite of an erotic fantasy from the pen by BarondeSade . . .
Prelude
Ron sat in the classroom staring out at the fountain where several coeds were sitting. They had their feet in to the pool and were splashing each other while he watched. Meanwhile the professor droned on and on and on...
Suddenly, he noticed that the classroom had fallen silent. What was going on, he wondered, turning to face the professor?
"Ron Childers, didn't you hear me?" the professor angrily asked.
"Uh, no, uh, sorry," Ron muttered, his face turning bright red as the other students began to giggle and laugh. "Uh, what, what was the question?"
"Question? There was no question!" the professor frowned. "The dean wants to see you in his office--immediately."
"Uh . . . oh . . . I . . . I see," Ron mumbled, flipping his book closed and rising up from his chair.
He heard the snickers and laughter following him as he made his way toward the exit.
What in the hell did the dean want to see him for anyway? He couldn't think of anything he had done—recently anyway, that would warrant a visit to the dean's office.
"Ron, Ron Childers," the secretary asked as he timidly stepped up to her desk.
"Uh, yes, yes, ma'am," he answered, his eyes dropping to the older woman's mountainous bosom.
"Have a seat," she told him, angrily glaring at him for his open ogling of her bosom. "The dean will see you shortly."
"Uh, thanks," Ron muttered, taking a seat.
As he waited, he watched secretary's massive breasts jiggle and bob under her crisp, white blouse.
Frowning her obvious annoyance with him, she turned so that he only had a side view of one mountainous tit as she worked.
Then the intercom rang and Ron heard his name mentioned.
Still frowning, the secretary told him that the dean would see him.
Stepping into the dean's office, he saw Dean Miller sitting behind his desk.
"Ron," the dean said, standing up and thrusting out his hand toward Ron.
"Dean Miller," Ron said and stuck his hand out to shake hands, surprised by the Dean's unexpected show of familiarity.
"Have a seat," he told Ron, motioning to the chair that sat by his desk.
Ron took a seat and watched the dean drop back down into his leather office chair.
"Ron, I'm afraid that I have some bad news for you," he said, putting on a stern face.
"Sir?"
"I've just received news that your grandfather passed away."
"What?" Ron muttered.
Grandpa Childers gone? How could that be? He had seen him just last week and he seemed to be in the best of health!
"Heart attack, they said," the dean said, rising again. "And your family is waiting for you back in Collins."
"Uh . . . oh . . . okay," Ron said, struggling to his feet. "Uh, thank, thank you, sir."
The next three days flashed by in a blur as he returned home to his family and they buried his grandfather.
Then came the reading of the will . . .
His grandfather had been quite well off. Everybody in the family thought his estate was probably worth thirty or forty million, give or take a few million one way or the other, and this was borne out by his will.
He gave Ron's sister, Kim, five million dollars. He gave Ron's parents, Joe and Stella, seven million. And finally, he gave Ron eighteen million dollars. In addition to that, he willed the housing development at the edge of the town, Sunnyside Acres to Ron and the deed to his own home which was also on the estate. His grandfather had lived there himself. Ron was stunned. Why had his grandfather given him the most? While seven and five million was nothing to sneeze at, his booty made him independently wealthy at the age of twenty!
"And also," the lawyer said to Ron, handing a letter to him, "your grandfather also directed me to give you this envelope."
Taking the envelope, Ron started to open it, but the lawyer stopped him.
"He stated that you should open the letter in the privacy of your new home at the Sunnyside Acres."
"Uh, okay, guess I'll wait then . . ."
Stuffing the letter in his back pocket, he turned to his parents and sister.
"It would be party time under different circumstances," he said, giving his mother a soft hug.
Even under these sorrowful conditions, he couldn't help but delight in the feel of his mother's mountainous tits pressed against his chest. He had always been a tit man, and his mother had the prettiest treasures in the world. He had spent his whole youth, trying to catch a peek at them, but he had never been successful.
Then, she stepped back and dabbed at her eye, wiping away the single tear that had formed...
Silently, he gave his father, Joe, a quick hug. No words were exchanged as the family grieved in silence. Then, finally, he gave his sister, Kim a hug and felt her wondrous tits dig into his chest. Big tits certainly ran in the family, he told himself, holding the hug a little longer than necessary...
"Well, I suppose I'll go over to gramp's house and see what this letter is all about..." Ron said, reaching back and patting the letter in his back pocket.
~
Unlocking his grandfather's house with his newly acquired key, he stepped inside the cavernous house. Ron had always thought the living room of his grandfather's house was so large, you could play basketball in it. Now it was his, he dizzily thought, reaching around and dragging the letter out of his back pocket.
Quickly opening the letter, he spread it and began to read it...
Ron,
Well, since you're reading this, I'm off into the hereafter. Probably down there as opposed to up there.
I guess that you're wondering why I bestowed the bulk of my estate upon you. I know of your quest for the voyeuristic side of life, as I was a fellow voyeur, myself. Your new home has some rather unique features that I doubted the other members of our family would appreciate.
To explain, each house in the estate has a central core that houses all the life support functions (i.e. air conditioning, heating, electrical, etc.). But unknown to the tenants, it also houses viewing and listening ports for each room. There is also an underground tunnel that runs under the estate and gives maintenance crews access to the homes. You also have access to this tunnel. In the tunnel, at the entrance to each home, there are two keypads. One the maintenance crews use and the other one is yours. The maintenance crew keypad is the upper one and opens the door. Yours does the same. But in addition to opening the doors, your keypad opens all the viewing and listening ports. So you have total admittance into the lives of the tenants. The entry access keys are 5-5-7-7-3.
The viewing ports are disguised as air outlets and the maintenance shafts are also soundproofed, so there is no way the tenants can see you or hear you.
The entrance to the tunnel is in the basement. The whole wall is a series of bookshelves, but the center bookshelf swings around and opens out into the tunnel. There is also a remote control for the television in the basement. Simply aim it at the bookshelf and press 5-5-7-7-3 and the bookshelf will open. Repeat the sequence to close the door. Also, be sure to take the remote with you and close the door while you are viewing so no one will stumble onto our secret!
The decision to use the tunnel is up to you . . . If you choose not to utilize it, lock it up and throw away the key. No one will ever find the entrance! If you do choose to use it, good luck and good viewing . . . Gramps
Ron was stunned. Grampa Childers a voyeur? He would never have guessed it. But now that he thought about it, Grampa seemed to always have a pretty, young thing hanging onto arm. But this? This was a complete surprise!
In a daze, Ron stepped down the stairs and into the basement. He remembered the bookshelves and recalled reading some books from it in his youth. He would never have guessed what was hidden behind them. Looking around the room, he spied the remote sitting atop the television. Picking it up, he aimed it and entered the numbers dictated in the letter.
As he pressed the 3 button, there was a faint whirring sound and the middle bookshelf slowly spun open revealing a long, lit tunnel stretching out from it. Tentatively, he stepped around the bookshelf and out into the tunnel. Slowly walking down the tunnel, he felt a faint breeze brush against his cheek. Just then, he remembered his grandfather's instructions and turned around. Aiming the remote at the opening, he entered the numbers and watched the door slowly close, disappearing as it melted back into the wall.
It blended back into the wall so well, you couldn't even tell it was an opening, even if you knew it was there.
Old Gramps seemed to have thought of everything, he thought to himself as he walked up to the first maintenance entrance.
Above the entrance door, there was an address: 305 Glendale Way.
I wonder who lives here, he asked himself, punching in the buttons and hearing the tumblers in the door clunk. Reaching down, he turned the big brass wheel and pushed the steel door open. As he stepped inside, a light flicked on revealing all sorts of machinery and a set of steel steps leading up to the second floor of the house where it ended in a circular catwalk running around the shaft. A viewing port, Ron thought to himself. Walking over to the wall, he saw a series of rectangular ports that looked out into the house. Moving around the wall, he could see into every room on the first floor.
There didn't appear to be anyone home, but there was an open tool kit sitting by the door under the kitchen sink which was open. Being as quiet as he could, he stepped over and climbed up the stairs to the second floor. Stepping around the wall, peering out into the rooms, he was stunned when he saw a man atop a woman pounding away at her pussy with his big dick. The man and woman were naked, but lying on the bed by them was a pair of coveralls. 'Johnson Plumbing' was emblazoned across the back of the coveralls.
So, Ron grinned to himself, looks like Johnson is making a house call. This thing might just turn out to be a real hoot . . .
What a Mother-In-Law
by BarondeSade©
© 2002, Baron Darkside. ALL Rights Reserved.
No portion of this story may be reproduced for profit without the express written permission of the author...
This story is a work of fiction. The characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental...
An rewrite of an erotic fantasy from the pen by BarondeSade . . .
Prelude
Ron sat in the classroom staring out at the fountain where several coeds were sitting. They had their feet in to the pool and were splashing each other while he watched. Meanwhile the professor droned on and on and on...
Suddenly, he noticed that the classroom had fallen silent. What was going on, he wondered, turning to face the professor?
"Ron Childers, didn't you hear me?" the professor angrily asked.
"Uh, no, uh, sorry," Ron muttered, his face turning bright red as the other students began to giggle and laugh. "Uh, what, what was the question?"
"Question? There was no question!" the professor frowned. "The dean wants to see you in his office--immediately."
"Uh . . . oh . . . I . . . I see," Ron mumbled, flipping his book closed and rising up from his chair.
He heard the snickers and laughter following him as he made his way toward the exit.
What in the hell did the dean want to see him for anyway? He couldn't think of anything he had done—recently anyway, that would warrant a visit to the dean's office.
"Ron, Ron Childers," the secretary asked as he timidly stepped up to her desk.
"Uh, yes, yes, ma'am," he answered, his eyes dropping to the older woman's mountainous bosom.
"Have a seat," she told him, angrily glaring at him for his open ogling of her bosom. "The dean will see you shortly."
"Uh, thanks," Ron muttered, taking a seat.
As he waited, he watched secretary's massive breasts jiggle and bob under her crisp, white blouse.
Frowning her obvious annoyance with him, she turned so that he only had a side view of one mountainous tit as she worked.
Then the intercom rang and Ron heard his name mentioned.
Still frowning, the secretary told him that the dean would see him.
Stepping into the dean's office, he saw Dean Miller sitting behind his desk.
"Ron," the dean said, standing up and thrusting out his hand toward Ron.
"Dean Miller," Ron said and stuck his hand out to shake hands, surprised by the Dean's unexpected show of familiarity.
"Have a seat," he told Ron, motioning to the chair that sat by his desk.
Ron took a seat and watched the dean drop back down into his leather office chair.
"Ron, I'm afraid that I have some bad news for you," he said, putting on a stern face.
"Sir?"
"I've just received news that your grandfather passed away."
"What?" Ron muttered.
Grandpa Childers gone? How could that be? He had seen him just last week and he seemed to be in the best of health!
"Heart attack, they said," the dean said, rising again. "And your family is waiting for you back in Collins."
"Uh . . . oh . . . okay," Ron said, struggling to his feet. "Uh, thank, thank you, sir."
The next three days flashed by in a blur as he returned home to his family and they buried his grandfather.
Then came the reading of the will . . .
His grandfather had been quite well off. Everybody in the family thought his estate was probably worth thirty or forty million, give or take a few million one way or the other, and this was borne out by his will.
He gave Ron's sister, Kim, five million dollars. He gave Ron's parents, Joe and Stella, seven million. And finally, he gave Ron eighteen million dollars. In addition to that, he willed the housing development at the edge of the town, Sunnyside Acres to Ron and the deed to his own home which was also on the estate. His grandfather had lived there himself. Ron was stunned. Why had his grandfather given him the most? While seven and five million was nothing to sneeze at, his booty made him independently wealthy at the age of twenty!
"And also," the lawyer said to Ron, handing a letter to him, "your grandfather also directed me to give you this envelope."
Taking the envelope, Ron started to open it, but the lawyer stopped him.
"He stated that you should open the letter in the privacy of your new home at the Sunnyside Acres."
"Uh, okay, guess I'll wait then . . ."
Stuffing the letter in his back pocket, he turned to his parents and sister.
"It would be party time under different circumstances," he said, giving his mother a soft hug.
Even under these sorrowful conditions, he couldn't help but delight in the feel of his mother's mountainous tits pressed against his chest. He had always been a tit man, and his mother had the prettiest treasures in the world. He had spent his whole youth, trying to catch a peek at them, but he had never been successful.
Then, she stepped back and dabbed at her eye, wiping away the single tear that had formed...
Silently, he gave his father, Joe, a quick hug. No words were exchanged as the family grieved in silence. Then, finally, he gave his sister, Kim a hug and felt her wondrous tits dig into his chest. Big tits certainly ran in the family, he told himself, holding the hug a little longer than necessary...
"Well, I suppose I'll go over to gramp's house and see what this letter is all about..." Ron said, reaching back and patting the letter in his back pocket.
~
Unlocking his grandfather's house with his newly acquired key, he stepped inside the cavernous house. Ron had always thought the living room of his grandfather's house was so large, you could play basketball in it. Now it was his, he dizzily thought, reaching around and dragging the letter out of his back pocket.
Quickly opening the letter, he spread it and began to read it...
Ron,
Well, since you're reading this, I'm off into the hereafter. Probably down there as opposed to up there.
I guess that you're wondering why I bestowed the bulk of my estate upon you. I know of your quest for the voyeuristic side of life, as I was a fellow voyeur, myself. Your new home has some rather unique features that I doubted the other members of our family would appreciate.
To explain, each house in the estate has a central core that houses all the life support functions (i.e. air conditioning, heating, electrical, etc.). But unknown to the tenants, it also houses viewing and listening ports for each room. There is also an underground tunnel that runs under the estate and gives maintenance crews access to the homes. You also have access to this tunnel. In the tunnel, at the entrance to each home, there are two keypads. One the maintenance crews use and the other one is yours. The maintenance crew keypad is the upper one and opens the door. Yours does the same. But in addition to opening the doors, your keypad opens all the viewing and listening ports. So you have total admittance into the lives of the tenants. The entry access keys are 5-5-7-7-3.
The viewing ports are disguised as air outlets and the maintenance shafts are also soundproofed, so there is no way the tenants can see you or hear you.
The entrance to the tunnel is in the basement. The whole wall is a series of bookshelves, but the center bookshelf swings around and opens out into the tunnel. There is also a remote control for the television in the basement. Simply aim it at the bookshelf and press 5-5-7-7-3 and the bookshelf will open. Repeat the sequence to close the door. Also, be sure to take the remote with you and close the door while you are viewing so no one will stumble onto our secret!
The decision to use the tunnel is up to you . . . If you choose not to utilize it, lock it up and throw away the key. No one will ever find the entrance! If you do choose to use it, good luck and good viewing . . . Gramps
Ron was stunned. Grampa Childers a voyeur? He would never have guessed it. But now that he thought about it, Grampa seemed to always have a pretty, young thing hanging onto arm. But this? This was a complete surprise!
In a daze, Ron stepped down the stairs and into the basement. He remembered the bookshelves and recalled reading some books from it in his youth. He would never have guessed what was hidden behind them. Looking around the room, he spied the remote sitting atop the television. Picking it up, he aimed it and entered the numbers dictated in the letter.
As he pressed the 3 button, there was a faint whirring sound and the middle bookshelf slowly spun open revealing a long, lit tunnel stretching out from it. Tentatively, he stepped around the bookshelf and out into the tunnel. Slowly walking down the tunnel, he felt a faint breeze brush against his cheek. Just then, he remembered his grandfather's instructions and turned around. Aiming the remote at the opening, he entered the numbers and watched the door slowly close, disappearing as it melted back into the wall.
It blended back into the wall so well, you couldn't even tell it was an opening, even if you knew it was there.
Old Gramps seemed to have thought of everything, he thought to himself as he walked up to the first maintenance entrance.
Above the entrance door, there was an address: 305 Glendale Way.
I wonder who lives here, he asked himself, punching in the buttons and hearing the tumblers in the door clunk. Reaching down, he turned the big brass wheel and pushed the steel door open. As he stepped inside, a light flicked on revealing all sorts of machinery and a set of steel steps leading up to the second floor of the house where it ended in a circular catwalk running around the shaft. A viewing port, Ron thought to himself. Walking over to the wall, he saw a series of rectangular ports that looked out into the house. Moving around the wall, he could see into every room on the first floor.
There didn't appear to be anyone home, but there was an open tool kit sitting by the door under the kitchen sink which was open. Being as quiet as he could, he stepped over and climbed up the stairs to the second floor. Stepping around the wall, peering out into the rooms, he was stunned when he saw a man atop a woman pounding away at her pussy with his big dick. The man and woman were naked, but lying on the bed by them was a pair of coveralls. 'Johnson Plumbing' was emblazoned across the back of the coveralls.
So, Ron grinned to himself, looks like Johnson is making a house call. This thing might just turn out to be a real hoot . . .
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