Someone older

Ernest had a guess as to who would be on the other side of the door, a guess informed by his daydreams of the past year. And sure enough, when he opened the door, there she was, the vision that had permeated his idle fantasies:

Stephanie Edwards.

On the occasions when Stephanie had come to pick up Jessica from school after Jess and Ernest were done working on their project last year, Ernest had been blown away by his classmate's stepmom. She and Jess seemed to have such a loving, warm relationship, worlds away from the stereotypical "stepmom" dynamic. And Stephanie seemed to genuinely be interested when she asked Ernest how he had been, or how the history project was coming along. He'd never had any illusions that he was somehow a special concern of hers -- that was, as far as he could tell, the kind and engaged way in which she treated everyone. Ernest respected that, probably more than he would have if she'd just been being kind to him personally.

And on top of that, Stephanie Edwards was a stone cold MILF.

She was naturally blessed with a bombshell hourglass figure -- coincidentally, not unlike her stepdaughter. This was then compounded by the fact that she had taken full advantage of the perks available to her as a wealthy woman. She wore expensive, flattering outfits which weren't in-your-face sexy, but nonetheless hugged and emphasized her curves. Her makeup was always flawless, and her shoulder-length blonde hair was tended to by a personal stylist. She'd also had her tits done -- she'd used the finest surgeon in the area, and though there wasn't any question as to whether or not they were enhanced, they were perfectly shaped and positioned, a pair of amazing trophies for a trophy wife.

There was now no question that, somehow, the ring was indeed granting his wishes. Nothing else he could think of would explain why she was standing on his porch at one in the morning.

"Mrs. Edwards? What's...up?" he added awkwardly. "I thought you'd be at home?"

"Oh, that would hardly be fair to Jessica. It's her 18th birthday, and the last thing she needs is an old lady like me in the way of her party. I went out for a drive, and as I was passing the park, I thought, 'I wonder how Ernest is liking that Corvette.' I know it might have seemed like an outrageous gift, but you'd been such a help with Jessica's grade, and..."

She laughed self-consciously before continuing, "Her dad's pulling in enough money these days that it's really not so big a deal. You're a fine young man, and I wanted you to know I appreciate you."

Ernest's mind spun in circles as he tried to adjust to the conversation. As kind as Mrs. Edwards had been to him, she certainly hadn't bought him a sports car as a reward for... working on a project that he would have had to work on no matter who his partner had been. But somehow, that appeared to be the new backstory that the ring had provided. What was this ring, and did its power have any limits at all?

"The car is wonderful, a real treat to drive," he managed to say, "Thanks again, Mrs. Edwards."

"Oh, call me Steph," she said dismissively, "And it's no trouble at all. Anyway, I'm sure the party is still going on -- do you mind if I hang out here for a while with you?"