Dressing Down


By Lynn Lake 

When Clyde informed Ruth that his mother ‘wanted to drop by for a short visit’, her resulting scream could be heard clear across town. The last time ‘Mother’ Agnes had dropped by for a short visit, she’d occupied the Crandell house for three solid weeks. The lash marks from her insults were still healing in Ruth’s mind.

Because when Agnes wasn’t constantly grousing and griping about this and that, him and her, and ‘them on the TV’, she was saving her best shots for her daughter-in-law. Particularly as it related to Ruth’s wardrobe.

Agnes had once worked in the ‘ladies wear’ section of a department store in a previous century, and as a result, she fancied herself an expert on women’s fashion, among other things. Her fashion sense actually ran more along the lines of Queen Victoria’s than Jean Paul Gaultier’s, but that didn’t stop her from telling Ruth just what she was wearing wrong, and how.

Ruth felt, and told her husband, that there should be a toxic warning symbol tattooed on the woman’s lips.

“Oh, it’ll be fine, I’m sure,” Clyde reassured his wife, patting her shoulder. “She’s probably mellowed quite a lot since her last stay, I’ll wager.”

“Right, how much do you want to bet?” Ruth inquired. “She’s like fine wine, I suppose? Only her cork’s been off for years and the older she gets the more vinegary she gets.”

“There, there, love,” Clyde soothed.

“Oh, you don’t mind because you’re her ‘little angel’,” Ruth went on, glaring at her husband, “but what about me?”


“That outfit’s a little … off-season, don’t you think, dear?” Agnes offered without asking, as soon as she’d darkened the Crandell doorway.

Ruth glanced down at her t-shirt and shorts, then smiled stiffly. “And how was your trip, then? Bus didn’t overturn, hmm?”

Agnes directed her son to take her three suitcases, two hat boxes, and one hissing pet transporter into the spare bedroom – the room Ruth had suggested they brick up after the woman’s last visit. She sniffed the air. “Have you got a gas leak, dear?”

“How long do you think you’ll be staying?” Ruth gritted.

Agnes tidied up her hair in the hall mirror. Then she dusted the mirror with one of the tissues she kept permanently rolled up her sleeve. “Oh, I don’t know, dear,” she eventually responded, her face pruning up as her eyes swept over her daughter-in-law from head-to-toe. She looked over at Clyde and smiled. “I try to spend as much time with my loved ones as I can these days. I’m not getting any younger, you know.”

And you won’t be getting any older, either, Ruth thought to herself, if you park it for more than one week, lady. I’ll see to it personally.


The next day was Sunday, and Ruth was already plenty in need of the Lord giving her strength. But, of course, Agnes had to tag along to church with her.

“You know that blouse doesn’t go at all with those pants, don’t you, dear?” she commented, as Ruth and Clyde stood around in the hallway waiting for her to get her hat on. “The colors are all wrong.”

Ruth’s face went the color red. “Now, listen-”

Clyde laid a restraining hand on his wife’s arm. “I think you look wonderful, honey,” he murmured. “You both look wonderful. The minister’ll have a tough time concentrating on his sermon today.” He laughed.

He could afford to laugh, Ruth thought, he wasn’t going to church. He was staying home to watch the football game.

“Women really shouldn’t wear pants,” Agnes went on. “Unless they’ve got something to hide, of course.” She glanced at Ruth’s rather stumpy legs. “A woman should dress like a woman, I always say, not a man.”

Ruth balled her fists. “I’ve had about-”

“You really should try to keep your wife out of your wardrobe, dear,” Agnes said to Clyde, reaching up and pinching one of his chubby cheeks.

He grinned at his mother, then regarded his wife much as a Pompeian once regarded Vesuvius. “Uh, I-I’ve made reservations at the fanciest restaurant in town for dinner tonight,” he said hastily. “For my two special ladies.”

Agnes smiled sweetly at her son. “You’re so very thoughtful, aren’t you, dear.” She smiled sourly at her daughter-in-law. “It will be a pleasure – eating out.”

“I think she’s actually warming up to you,” Clyde whispered to Ruth, as they watched Agnes walk down the front steps.

Ruth snorted, reaching into her purse to make sure her blood pressure medication was still there. Clyde wedged himself into his best all-purpose wedding and funeral suit, while Ruth strapped herself into one of her ‘knock ‘em dead’ evening gowns. The green and red knit tie his mother had given him for Christmas completed Clyde’s ensemble, while a string of pearls and a subtle dusting of make-up made Ruth look fabulous. Or so she and her husband thought.

“Oh my, is that what you’re wearing, dear?” Agnes remarked. She wrinkled her  nose, then wrapped it in an omnipresent tissue and blew.

“What’s wrong with it?” Ruth wanted to know.

“Well, nothing, I suppose – if we were going loitering about street corners looking for men. But for a formal dinner engagement …?” She raised her eyebrows. “And black is a slimming color, now isn’t it? And, really, it’s a little too late for all that, don’t you think, dear?”

“Now, Mother,” Clyde intervened, “I think Ruth looks perfectly-”

“Fine!” Ruth snapped. “If you don’t like what I’m wearing, I’ll simply go change.”

Clyde held up his hands. “No, no, that won’t be-”

“I do hope you can scrounge up something a little more appropriate,” Agnes cut in, as Ruth whirled and climbed the stairs to the second floor two at a time.

She was back in less than a minute. “Shall we go?” she asked her husband.

Clyde’s eyes bulged out like a run-over bullfrog’s, and Agnes patted her nose with a tissue like it was on fire – the both of them speechless.

Ruth strolled to the front door in her stockings and heels and pearls – and nothing else. Completely naked, she was halfway out the door before Agnes screamed and Clyde grabbed her and pulled her back inside.

“What are you doing, Ruth!?” Clyde yelped. “For goodness sake, put on some clothes! You know you can’t go to the restaurant like that!”

Ruth smiled, letting herself be dragged up the stairs by her husband, pushed down the hall and into their bedroom. Once they’d crossed the threshold, however, she turned on him.

“Your mother’s going to have to wait, Clyde,” she said. “And it’s time that you ‘stood up’ to her, as well.” She reached down and gripped Clyde’s cock through his suit pants.

“I’ll get properly dressed and we’ll eat out, don’t you worry,” she informed the stunned man. “But since I’m undressed right now, you’re going to eat out – right now.” She pointed with her free hand down at her pussy.

Clyde gulped, his cock swelling between Ruth’s gripping fingers, gazing down at her shaved pussy. “But-But Mother will-”

“Mother won’t be going anywhere, as we both know,” Ruth stated flatly. “Now, get busy pleasing your wife, for a change.”

She twisted Clyde’s cock in her hand, and he obediently dropped down to his knees on the carpet, at Ruth’s pussy. She spread her legs wider, placing her hands on her hips. He gripped her thighs and licked his lips, looking at her pussy, then up into her eyes.

“Go to it, Clyde,” she advised.

He dipped his head down and close and stuck out his tongue and licked Ruth’s pussy, hard. She shuddered, her body jerking. He licked her slit again, anxiously, eagerly, deeply. Ruth raised her hands and grasped her breasts. She squeezed them both, as her kneeling husband lapped her juicy pussy.

Clyde quickly warmed to the task, holding tight to Ruth’s quivering thighs and bobbing his head down in between her legs, tonguing her pussy over and over. He could taste her excitement on the end of his slurping tongue. His excitement was visibly evident by the bulge in his suit pants, just about bursting his zipper. ‘Mother’ was totally forgotten in the oral storm wife and husband had cooked up.

“Yes, Clyde! Yes!” Ruth urged, squeezing her buzzing breasts, rolling her tingling nipples between her shaking fingers, undulating her pussy against her husband’s stroking tongue.

Clyde dragged Ruth’s slit with his tongue again and again, not spilling a drop of her joy, enjoying the wet, rubbery, wrinkly texture of his wife’s pussy. His face burned red and his cock throbbed in his pants, as he licked her slit like it was a juicy peach. Ruth simply couldn’t take anymore of his tongue-lashing, and she pulled him back up by the ears.

She tumbled onto the bed, Clyde on top of her. He grabbed onto her breasts, sucking on her hard nipples. She dug her hands in between their heaving bodies, fumbling his zipper down. She quickly had his cock out, and inside of her.

“Yes, Clyde! Fuck me!” she moaned, her pussy getting the kind of deep-stroking it, and she, really enjoyed.

Ruth grasped her husband’s buttocks, dug her painted fingernails in, urging Clyde to get down and dirty. He responded, enthusiastically pumping his hips, his cock back and forth inside of his wife.

They both groaned, along with the bed. Clyde kneaded Ruth’s breasts and sucked on the tips, bouncing up and down on top of her, plunging his cock to and fro in her pussy. She slapped and clawed at his ass, encouraging him to go faster and harder. Her naked body glowed with good feeling, the dour, suffocating pall of Mother’s visit at last lifted.

Clyde pounded his cock into his wife’s pussy, shoving her breasts together and gorging on both of her nipples at once. Ruth clung to his clenching butt, loving the ride, the slamming stroke of her husband’s cock in her cunt.

“Oh, Clyde! You’re making me cum!” Ruth shrieked.

Clyde jerked his head up off her bobbing chest and gazed into her rolled-back eyes. “Really!? Good!” He pumped even faster, working himself into a lather, too.

Ruth shuddered beneath Clyde, so hard and uncontrollable she almost bucked the man right off of her body. She screamed, her long-lost old friend orgasm bursting in her cock-filled pussy and rolling through her body, washing away all bad feelings. Clyde spasmed and grunted, shooting him cum deep inside Ruth, filling her with the delicious feeling that she was really the number one woman in his life after all, no question about it.

They bounded together in each other’s arms on their bed, renewing their passion for one another. Lusty vows between woman and man that no mother could pull asunder.

Then they cuddled, basking in the glorious warmth of their re-coupling. “Do you still want to go out to dinner, love?” Clyde asked, nuzzling his wife’s beating breasts.

She patted his head and squeezed his cock between her legs. “Of course, honey. Now that I’ve worked up a proper appetite. An appetite not even a mother-in-law can spoil. Just give me a few minutes to throw on some clothes.”

They laughed and kissed one another.

As it turned out, that was the very last time Mother Agnes ever questioned her daughter-in-law’s taste in clothing.