HONOR THY PARENT tells of a lonely widow who discovers that her erotic needs can be satisfied only by her son.
With this work, Sheela Kunzur has created a powerful and disturbing novel of the psychological battles a woman must fight against loneliness and the guilt that consumes her because her body yearns for her own boy's flesh.
Tommy, who has inherited a vibrant manliness from his dead father, tries to help her face the difficult transition from widowhood to dating. However, Helen closes her mind to her true emotions, and chooses instead to humiliate herself repeatedly with any man she can find who might fill her great emptiness.
When her promiscuity begins to leave her as lonely and as empty as before, and threatens to destroy her stability completely, Helen is forced to recognize that she is still consumed with desire for the kind of love she had pleasured in with her husband, and must choose either the taboo of incest with her son-or the public disintegration of her morals.
CHAPTER ONE
The cock was huge. It was held up from the boy's loins by a small white hand. The glans were pink-violet, silky, and a clear drop of slippery secretion dewed at the tip, at the tiny slit.
Helen Dempsey's hand began to shake. She almost dropped the Polaroid color photo she had just found in her son's, Tommy's, soiled shirt.
Her throat was suddenly tight. Her breath hissed. An awful, quivering heat bloomed in her cunt. She leaned forward against the solid cement wash trays. She looked around the basement of her home, seeking reassurance.
She tried not to look at the picture again. She heard the front door open and slam upstairs.
"Mom?" It was Tommy, home from football practice, hungry as usual.
She called, "In the basement!" She heard him yell, "Okay!" and walk heavily into the kitchen.
Helen pressed her arm to her side to keep her hand from trembling. She licked her dry lips and lowered her gaze to the photo.
She looked past the giant cock to the face of the boy-Tommy! It was his. He-She couldn't breathe. She studied the photo with hungry blue eyes. It had to be at least nine inches long! He was only a Freshman in high school ... only fifteen years old. He was six feet tall, yes, but so thin.
It was Tommy! Grinning with that lopsided smile of his, grinning into the camera....
The hand that held up his monster cock ... a girl's hand. Who? Which of his little, scatterbrained thirteen or fourteen-year-old girl friends? Simpering, giggling, chattering like idiots. Did they all know he had a cock that size? Was that why he drew them like honey draws flies?
Helen peered at the photo in the dim yellow basement light. She moved to the work counter and pulled the chain under the big 200 watt overhead work light.
She saw detail now in the bright illumination. Tommy's cock was wet ... a coating of ... That little bitch had been sucking her son's cock. Or fucking him.
Helen closed her eyes and moaned softly to herself. Damn you, George, for dying. Damn you to hell for turning me into a sex-hungry woman, for teaching me to love it and need it, for teaching me to suck you off and love doing it, for going down on me and making me want it every night. Every night! Anytime! God damn your educated tongue and your wonderful cock ... your seven-inch cock. Damn you for dying on me!
She slumped over the bench and wanted to cry. It had been over a year now, since the accident. And now she burned! Christ, she burned every day, every night. She lusted for a man. And she was afraid to let herself get involved with anyone. She couldn't start anything with anyone she knew-her friends' husbands. She hated bars and clubs ... dances. It was too humiliating, like a meat market.
So she seduced herself with her fingertips-rubbing her prominent, well-developed clit anytime the heat got too strong, the yearning too powerful.
She had even tried substitute cocks-embarrassing herself in the darkness with thick carrots, once a banana, once a cucumber. ... She had seen ads for vibrators and had sent away for one but the buzzing had been too strong for her to take. The sensations were too quick, too intense.
And now ... Oh God-To live alone in the same house with a man-a sweet, handsome, strong young man who had a nine-inch cock....
No! He was a boy! Tommy was her son!
What was it George had said once when he was horny? A prick has no conscience. Does a hungry cunt have a conscience?
She stared down at the photo. She compared the hand that held Tommy's cock with her own. She measured the width of her hand. His cock towered over the girl's hand. It had to be at least nine inches.
She closed her eyes tight. She slammed her small fist into her lower belly. NO! NO! NO!
Ten minutes later Helen had some measure of control over herself. She went upstairs to start supper. The photo nestled deep in her apron pocket. It seemed to bum through the layers of cloth to her thigh. In spite of everything the image of his beautiful, huge white cock lurked in her mind.
Loud rock music leaked from Tommy's room. Something made her go to his door and open it. The high volume of sound poured over her.
Tommy was lying on his bed in his underwear, reading a school book, chomping on an apple. He looked up and grinned that same grin. "Hi, Mom."
Helen's heart pounded. She could not keep her eyes from the large bulge in his briefs. She stammered, "C-can you study with all this noise?" Her face was hot, her skin tight.
"Sure, I'm used to it." He stretched-his lean hips arched briefly, provocatively, sending his soft cock into sharp outline. "Too much for you?"
Helen's eyes dilated for an instant. She went cold. Then her chest locked and she couldn't breathe. "No-no ... it isn't too much." She was afraid to meet his gaze. Her stomach felt queasy. She was being filled with a soft terror.
"Hey, mom, you look kinda sick. You okay?"
"Yes, I'm ... I'm fine. Supper in fifteen minutes, honey." She backed out of his room and closed the door. "Honey" had come out of her mouth like a squawk. She always called him honey, but this time....
Helen went into the bathroom. She locked the door. It wasn't necessary to lock it, because a closed bathroom door meant it was occupied, in this house.
Helen looked at herself in the medicine cabinet mirror. There was a sheen of perspiration on her forehead. Her short-cut blonde hair was damp at the temples. Her wide blue eyes were haunted, strained. She was pale. She had chewed her lipstick.
She had to go up on her tiptoes to bring her chin into view in the mirror. She was only five feet tall (actually four feet eleven and a half inches, but she said five feet to simplify things). She was a tiny, slim, sexy, lusty woman who ... who....
Her thoughts skittered away.
Only the soft terror remained, a heavy lump of dread in her guts.
She sank sideways to sit on the toilet seat. She slid the photo out of her apron pocket, and stared at it. Without willing it, her mind began a fantasy, began running a scene on her inner movie screen, based on the photo. Her eyes unfocused. She breathed through her mouth.
It wasn't a girl's hand after all. It was an experienced woman who held the base of Tommy's giant cock. That was why Tommy was smiling. He knew she would suck his cock. Suck it as long as he wanted her to. Take it deep into her mouth ... into her throat if she were feeling extremely passionate. The woman knew how to suck a big cock because she had done it many, many times before.
And she was built to take a big cock in her cunt, too. Partly because she was naturally deep down there, and partly because she had been fucked by a big-hung man for sixteen years and she was stretched, used to a long, thick one, wanted a big one ... needed a big cock.
The woman smiled at the boy and stroked his huge cock slowly, sensuously, loving the long upsweep to the lovely, heart-shaped violet glans, and down the thick, long shaft to the kinky thatch of dark-blonde pubic hair.
The cock throbbed powerfully in her gentle grip. His heart was young and strong as it pumped thick rich blood into the big organ to keep the monster hard, filled, ready.
She leaned forward to kiss the tip, to lick the small drop of secretion there. It tasted sweet to her. Suddenly she knew she would love the taste of his come. She lovingly spread her lips over his glans, taking slowly, gradually, engulfing it, sliding her hot lips down, down ... onto the shaft, taking, working her tongue "Mom?"
Helen jerked to awareness. The bathroom, the photo-Her left hand was buried between her legs, into her panties, and three fingers were thrust into her fevered, juicy cunt. Her thumb was still rotating deliciously on her swollen clit. The extended, tingling, little organ felt nearly ready to release a tide of pleasure.
Helen pulled her hand free. "Yes?"
From beyond the door Tommy said, "Something was burning. I took it off the stove."
Oh, God! The cauliflower. "Thank you ... Tommy. I'll be right out." She tripped the flushing handle. As the water rushed through the cycle she stood up and rubbed her face with a damp washcloth. She couldn't look at herself in the mirror.
She prayed to get through supper. Something terrible was going to happen. She felt dizzy. She took deep breaths and calmed down enough, got control of herself enough, to face her son.
She threw open the bathroom door and hurried out. He was standing in the shadowed hall, waiting for her! She gasped.
Tommy loomed over her. He put his large, strong hands on her small shoulders. "Do you really feel okay?"
A tremor rippled through her. Helen exerted iron control. "Yes ... I might be catching the flu or something, though. I've had a chill. Better not get too close to me."
"I don't care about that." He put a palm on her forehead. His other arm slid around her waist. He eased her closer. "I'll be your doctor and give you what you need."
Helen stood, shaking. He was so tall! So strong! He was a man! She needed to be held, comforted, kissed, caressed....
She leaned against him. "What I need...." she whispered. His hand moved to cup the back of her head. He drew her more tightly against his hardened, lean body.
She began to relax, to melt against him ... and her belly touched a tremendous bulge in his jeans.
She recoiled. She pulled out of his arms. "I'll take care of supper. I'll call you in a minute or so." She lurched into the living room, steadied, and marched into the kitchen, biting her lips, blinking fast.
CHAPTER TWO
Later that night, in her bed, Helen huddled under the covers and went over and over in her mind the incident in the hall.
Why had Tommy had that tremendous erection? Why had he looked at her so funny during supper? Was it her imagination? Was she so out and out horny she was misinterpreting everything? Was she such a crazy woman now...?
Sex ... sex ... SEX! Why was it so damned important? Why did it drive people like this? Torment them?
Helen's hands crept to her small, pointed breasts. Her fingers seized her pink-popcorn nipples and teased them to tingling size.
She was going to do vile things to herself tonight, grotesque, gluttonous things. She had to exhaust her sex need, quiet the demon in her loins.
Her fingers twisted her nipples violently, and she gasped with pain and desire, as the pain turned to heat that flashed like lightning to her loins.
Her hands left her swollen nipples and slid, palm down, to her taut, smooth belly. Her eyes were closed. She licked her lips.
Her palms pressed deep into her abdomen, and slid lower ... lower ... till her fingertips entered the curly V of her dark-blonde pubic hair.
Helen's mouth opened and she breathed faster, in anticipation. She moved under the covers, onto her back. She spread her legs wide.
Her palms pressed lower until they rested on the pubic bone that crossed over her cunt. Her fingers were touching her slit-her wet, juicy slit.
She pressed a middle finger gently against the pouting lips and the hot mouth to her cunt seemed to welcome it, to kiss the finger.
Shivers of tantalizing sensation ... she breathed a soft moan and let the finger sink into the slick, hot groove. She discovered her clit waiting to be touched-a turgid little knob of pleasure nerves.
She dipped her fingertip into the accumulation at the bottom of her slit and coated her extended clit with the slippery juice. Her rotating fingertip caused shivers of delight.
She moaned again and delved with the fingers of her other hand into the waiting entrance to her vagina ... into her hungry cunt!
Two slim fingers buried themselves. She touched the hot, wet, rippled walls of the clinging tunnel. She couldn't touch bottom. She was too deep. Not even George's long middle finger had touched her deepest spot.
And now that area itched and hungered!
Helen closed her eyes tighter, against the wish ... the lust ... the need ... against the secret knowledge that not even George's seven inches had ever really satisfied that deepest place. He had nestled in there, but never pressed, never stretched her there.
Her cunt wanted to be filled!
"Oh, God...." She began rubbing her clitoris feverishly, to distract herself from that yearning emptiness.
The sparkling, hot pleasure came immediately. She never had trouble turning herself on. Never had any blocks to enjoying her body-even to herself-enjoyment.
But stroking her clitoris like this ... bringing herself off ... never satisfied that other aching need.
Helen began to pant softly as her loins filled with sweet, hot tension. She drew her knees up reflexively, forcing the bedclothes into a tent.
Her other fingers remained in her cunt, delving, pushing, seeking, buried to her third knuckle. She panted faster, grimacing, gritting her teeth, whimpering quietly.
Her belly sucked in and locked, then jumped convulsively. She gasped, pressed her mouth to her bunched pillow, and groaned into the muffling bulk.
She relaxed. Her knees sank. She lay with her arms limp beside her body, palms up. She stared up at the dark ceiling.
It wasn't enough.
She needed hot, stiff, long cock plunging into her guts.
She needed nine inches.
"No!"
Helen cried out and flung the blankets and sheet away. She kicked the bedding to a rumpled mass at the foot of the big king-size bed.
The bed was too large for her alone. It needed a man She scrambled from the bed as if it were an enemy. She stood shaking, blinking, then unclenched her fists and reached for her thin silk robe on the slipper chair. The slick material felt extremely sensual against her hot skin.
She cinched the sash tight around her tiny waist and found her furry slippers with her toes.
Helen opened her door and stepped out into the blackness of the hallway. As she reached the entrance to the living room a floorboard underfoot squeaked faintly. It sounded terribly loud in the night stillness.
She went to the large front window and stared out through the Venetian blinds at the quiet, tree-lined street. A car swished by-two people in a late model sedan-and the quiet returned.
She drifted into the kitchen. She wasn't hungry ... not for food. Her cunt was hungry for thick, hard cock ... her mouth hungered for the feel of a taut shaft, the velvety roundness of a glans, the gush of hot, salty semen.
Helen hissed to herself, "Stop it!" She buried her face in her hands.
She had to do something to quiet the furnace in her loins-and mind! Something ... She watched herself open the refrigerator and pull open the crisper ... take out the long, hard, green cucumber....
She refused to recognize what she was doing-what she was going to do.
She moved to the sink and turned on the hot water. She methodically washed the cucumber, warming it a bit. She dried it with a paper towel.
She found herself back in the dark living room, nestled deep into the big leather recliner in the comer, beside the seldom used fireplace.
She struggled to lever the back down into an almost horizontal position. She lay on the cool leather, cradled in the recliner like a doll in a great brown paw, and slowly opened her hot, moist thighs.
She parted her silk robe and stared at the dim ceiling as her hands worked into the slippery slit of her cunt. Her clit seemed to sizzle and throb with eagerness.
She stifled a soft moan as her fingers eased into the depths. Her thumb began a slick rotation on her stiffened pleasure button. Again a minor quaking seized her belly and insides. She came, panting quietly.
But it wasn't enough. She was conscious of the cool, hard, fat length of the cucumber on the leather beside her hip. Waiting.
Helen remembered the shameful, obscene thoughts that had wormed through her mind when she had stood in the produce section of Safeway the day before, examining the cucumbers, fondling them, choosing the one that would best serve as a substitute She ground her teeth and flung her head from side to side. She whispered fiercely, "All right! God damn it! All right!"
She grasped the long cucumber and nosed it into her wet slit. She flinched slightly at its coolness and remembered the other time she had . used a cucumber, the feel of the cold length entering....
She ran her fingers along the length. There were bumps on it. God, it was thick! She wanted to look at it, examine it, but resolutely kept her gaze locked on the ceiling.
Was it nine inches long? Was it as big as-NO! She held the thickness at the middle and cupped the palm of her other hand over the end. She pulled.
Helen grunted softly as the rounded, thick end forced the entrance to her vagina. Her insides seemed to clamp down on the foreign bulk as it sank deeper into her body, as if to resist its invasion.
The coldness reached deeper and deeper into her belly. She gasped and pulled and pulled. Her opening was stretched wide-a straining pink mouth around the dark green shaft.
She rested, with over half the thing inside her still-hungry cunt. Another few inches and she'd be full, stuffed.
She twisted the cucumber and corkscrewed it in deeper. It felt strange-that movement-but she liked it. She closed her eyes and for a moment fantasized a giant alien creature from another planet-it held her easily and was fucking her, sliding its strange green prick into her cunt, its alien muscles making the shaft turn and twist as it went in and in and in.
The alien's blood was cool, and its prick was cool. Its face swam in darkness above her, but she could see a grin ... a lopsided grin....
Helen whimpered and wiped the vision from her mind. But her arms strained to pull the green monster yet deeper into her belly. It was nosing into her deepest, most private depths, and sensitive tissues began to quiver at the contact.
She finally let herself gaze at her loins. She was astonished at the bare handhold length remaining. The size and bulk in her cunt was satisfying on a primitive, bestial level.
In a comer of her mind, she wondered if it would keep her lusts under control if she could somehow strap the cucumber in place and walk around all day with the thing buried in her like this.
Helen didn't want to think what a spectacle she must be presenting now. If someone could see....
Her gaze darted guiltily to the hallway door. The darkness appeared empty. She held her breath and heard no sound.
She relaxed and enjoyed the feel of the thickness and length in her vagina. It wasn't as cool as at first.
She sighed and pulled it out almost all the way, then pulled it in again ... ahhh ... deep ... deep ... and slowly out....
She closed her eyes. She fucked-a dream-a faceless man with a huge cock-slowly fucking her.
But the dream faded as the reality of pulling and hauling the cucumber in and out of her clinging cunt became work. She was surprised at how much effort it took to push and pull. She understood how a man could tire, even using massive leg and back muscles.
But-oh-it felt so good. Not as good as a real cock, attached to a real man whose hands would be squeezing her breasts, pinching her nipples, stroking her ... and his hungry mouth might suckle on a nipple as he bowed over her and fucked her ... or he might seek her mouth and they'd join in a passionate, tongue-filled, breathless kiss ... as he fucked her, fucked her, fucked her....
Helen discovered herself moaning. She stopped the sounds. Her arms continued to drill the cucumber into and out of her hot, slippery cunt.
Faster, now. Despite the ache in her muscles. Faster because the glow was building ... the deep, hot glow of a heavy orgasm. Harder because each time she buried the thing in her guts the heel of her palm smacked the sensitive pea that was her clit, and a sweet shock of pleasure arched through her.
She panted with effort and lust and pleasure. Oh. God, it was going to be good! Her small white body writhed in the recliner's cup. Her silk robe had worked loose, was wide open. Her perky nipples were pink pebbles on trembling white flesh. Her mouth hung open. Her eyes lost focus.
Helen's knees were high and wide. Muscles rhythmically corded and relaxed in her arms and shoulders. Her chin was tucked against her breastbone. She was huddled into herself, working hard, almost totally oblivious of the room, the house, the world.
She was dimly conscious of her moaning-and didn't care. The bubble was forming-the precious golden bubble of ecstasy that she needed to have burst and spray her insides with the incredible rapture of a heavy come.
She used the cucumber ruthlessly, driving it deeper and harder. She sobbed as the bubble reached its perfection in her loins, as it hung, trembling, quivering on the edge of explosion.
She wanted to come! Now ... oh, please now ... now ... now! "NOW! YES! OH, YES!"
She cried out, unable ... unwilling, at heart ... to repress the shrill, triumphant, ululating scream, so powerful and shattering were the sensations that wracked her. She subsided to growling sobs, panting, whimpering, sighing....
... and heard the squeak of a floorboard.
Helen froze. Her eyes instantly darted to the hallway door. Tommy? Could he have heard? Could he have watched?
She couldn't see clearly enough in the darkness. Was that blob a face? Was that darker mass his body? She dared not speak. She could not move. A sweet terror filled her, replacing the subsiding glow of ecstasy.
Her mouth dried out An endless minute passed. She let the now obscene cucumber slip from her cunt. She closed her robe.
Her heart was hammering. She struggled out of the recliner and held the awful, slimy cucumber next to her thigh, so it couldn't be seen from the hallway. She went into the kitchen.
She quickly dropped the thing into the garbage can under the sink and washed her hands.
Calmed, in possession of herself, the beast between her thighs tamed, she returned to her bedroom. As she entered the hall she looked to Tommy's door. It was ajar. His room was dark.
His door had been closed before, hadn't it?
Hadn't it?
Helen rushed into her room and closed her door too quickly, too loudly. She almost locked it. She stood with her fist to her mouth, panting with a strange fear. Tears rolled down her cheeks. "George," she whispered, "please help me. Help me...."
CHAPTER THREE
Helen knelt on the tiled bathroom floor and scrubbed feverishly with cleanser and an old rag. She had to keep busy!
The hot, commanding itch was alive in her cunt again, only four days after ... after she had quieted it with that ... cucumber. She hated the humiliating memory.
The door chimes sounded. She scowled-who? She scrambled to her bare feet and glanced down at herself. She wore an ancient pair of tight, dirty jeans and a boy's T-shirt. Her work-stimulated nipples poked out through the thin, yellow cotton.
She went on tiptoes to see all of her face in the mirror. She dabbed at her mussed hair and shrugged when the chimes sounded again.
First she peeked around a comer of the big view window at the porch. She recognized James Oggutt, her insurance man.
Helen sighed and went to the door.
A minute later he was in the house, smiling with fleshy, petulant lips, jerking up his wine slacks as he prepared to sit next to her on the overstuffed sofa.
She noticed that his slip-ons were of some kind of super shiny plastic. His fluffy, mod sideburns needed a trim. He sat in an aroma-envelope of stale aftershave lotion.
"You didn't mail in your premium for last month, so I thought I'd stop by and remind you it's overdue." He positioned his imitation-leather attache case on his knees and clicked it open.
Helen said, "I just didn't have the money to spare." She listened to a tiny, insistent voice in her mind: He's only about fifty-five. Maybe he can fuck. Maybe he has a good-size cock on him.
"Oh! I'm sorry to hear that." There was a very subtle tone-a change in his expression-that told Helen's inner devil that he wasn't sorry. It gave him a lever, an angle.
She knew, then, she could depend on him to make a pass. She asked, "Would you like a cup of coffee?"
Ten minutes later he nibbled the last of a cookie, put down his cup and slid his left arm around her shoulders.
She pretended surprise. "Why, Jim!" She didn't shrug his arm away. She grinned. "What does this mean?"
He laughed heartily. "I'm only human, Mrs. Demp-Helen. You're a very attractive woman.
I imagine your life has been rather empty of a certain male attention."
"Yes ... for a long time." The soft terror formed in her guts. She leaned back against his arm and accepted what was to follow. She prayed that he would be a real man.
His arms tightened suggestively. "Maybe I can help?"
She smiled and whispered, "I hope so." She half turned and met his kiss.
His full, soft lips were almost womanly. His tongue entered her mouth immediately. She seemed to explode with lust. She moaned and writhed in his arms. She darted her tongue around his. Her eyes closed. She dug her fingers into the yielding, brown polyester weave of his wide-lapelled coat.
Helen wanted to grope for his cock, but re-. strained herself. Let him set the pace, make the moves. She didn't want to scare him.
He murmured, "You are a passionate little woman, aren't you?"
"I guess I am." Helen couldn't resist the urgings of her cunt. She trailed her fingers up his thigh to the smallish bulge where his genitals had to be. She pressed and squeezed gently. Nothing. No hardness.
He said, apologetically, "I take a little while to get up a head of steam." Then, as if to distract her, he kissed her fervently. His hand came to her T-shirt and fastened on her left breast. He felt the size and firmness and discovered her swollen nipple.
He broke the kiss and asked softly, "Are you a sophisticated woman, Helen?"
"I guess so." Did he want to fuck her in the ass? "Why?"
He chuckled. "Well ... a man my age ... sometimes needs a bit of special attention before he can ... perform."
She smiled to herself. She knew now. She felt an instant resentment and insult; kissing her and touching her weren't enough to get him up. He wanted her to suck him hard. She wanted to make him say it. But the pulsing need in her cunt was too strong; she couldn't risk offending him ... couldn't risk not getting fucked.
She nodded and smiled sympathetically. "I understand, Jim. I don't mind." She kissed him. "But let's go into the bedroom and get undressed ... and do things right."
Five minutes later Helen lay naked on her back on the big bed and enjoyed his wet, suctioning mouth, on her nipples. She whispered appreciatively, "I love that. You're really building a fire in me."
Oggutt knelt over her, his head lowered, his mouth sucking hard on her nipple. His potbelly hung down, too, and his cock was hidden from her eyes.
Helen trailed her fingers over his back, following a trail of graying hair-he really was a hairy man-to the beginning of the crack of his ass.
He squirmed as her fingers explored there. He suckled even more exquisitely on her swollen pink nipples. He released a wet, tingling knoblet from his lips and gasped, "You cunning witch!"
He turned slightly to show her his lengthening, thickening cock. He abruptly straddled Helen's chest and poked the half-hard prick at her face. He squinted down at her, his expression hard to read.
Helen refused to think. She made herself smile. She brought her hands to the white, drooping length and cuddled it in her palms. She murmured, "Does little Jimmy want to grow up big and strong? Hmm? Maybe we can encourage him."
She glanced at Jim's face over her. His lips were peeled back in a kind of grimace ... a fake smile? What was the message in his eyes?
"Yes," he whispered huskily, "suck!" He pushed his cock at her mouth.
She reached back and tried to pull a pillow under her head. He did it for her, doubling the king-size pillow with its orange flowered pillow case, wedging it under her head so that her mouth was level with the waiting head of his cock.
Helen took a few seconds to study the organ. He was circumcised. She could see the tiny white scars, still visible from a probably sloppy job done when he was an infant.
His cock was like a long thumb, and the head like an unripe cherry; his cock grew from a thick, salt-and-pepper gray patch of curly pubic hair. His sack was lightly furred with longer, curly, graying hairs.
Jim urged, "Come on, do it!"
His belly was a big furry sack of jelly. Dressed, he was presentable. Naked, he was ugly ... physically repulsive.
Helen closed her eyes to the sight of him. Her mind flashed with the image of Tommy, stripped to the waist as he worked in the sun, mowing the back yard. Lean, hard, smooth, tanned skin ... rippling muscles....
Helen strove to drive the image from her mind by filling her mouth with Jim Oggut's flaccid cock.
She took all of it, burying her nose in the thicket of hair. She stroked her tongue sideways along the soft shaft. She tightened her palate and tongue on the glans.
He made a triumphant, satisfied "Ahhh .. and hunched further over her, bracing on his hands. "That's right, suck ... suck ... Christ, you're fantastic!"
Helen kept her eyes closed. His cock lengthened in her mouth, creeping deeper, inching into the gag-reflex area ... thickening....
She let herself fantasize Tommy kneeling over her, looking down, smiling, saying, "Gee, mom, you sure can suck! Wow!"
She whined in her throat with shame and excitement. She gripped Oggutt's fleshy hips and imagined them lean and bony. She twisted her head, twirled her tongue along the sensitive underside of the now rigid cock in her suctioning, active mouth, and breathed fast through her flaring nostrils.
She lost herself in the fantasy. She sucked with all her skills and talents. Her hands slid to the hanging testicles and cupped and fondled.
Helen didn't detect the swiftly increasing tension in Oggutt's straddling thighs, or the rippling in his ballooning belly, or the catching in his loud breathing.
Suddenly, her fantasy was ruptured by a loud grunting cry and a spurt of semen from Oggutt's throbbing cock.
Her eyes flew open. She swallowed automatically as he pistoned urgently in her mouth and his cock leaped with diminishing ejaculations.
She saw the grimace return to his face. He was flushed, panting, his eyes heavy-lidded. He pulled his cock from her clinging lips. As his shiny, cherry-like glans pulled free, he gave a pained, small cry and ponderously settled onto his back beside her on the bed.
She watched him puff and sigh. She gathered the remnants of his semen in her mouth and swallowed. His come tasted bitter and soapy.
Helen lay waiting. Obviously he couldn't fuck her now, but he could do something for her. She said, "You went off awfully fast. You should have stopped me ... or pulled out."
He chuckled. "Ah, I'm afraid I overestimated my control and underestimated your skills. The point of no return was upon me before I could consider the matter."
He turned his head and smiled. He looked at his watch.
Helen asked, "Want me to make you hard again?" She sat up.
"Ah, no, no ... I'm afraid I'm only good for one ... climax ... every few days. You'd be wasting your time ... and mine."
She frowned. "Well ... isn't this going to be mutual?"
"I wish I could oblige, but I am no longer capable. The soldier is dead."
She said, "Well, your tongue isn't dead."
His smile soured. "I'm afraid I find the act repulsive, for myself." He put his hand on her pussy. He petted her. "If you'd like me to satisfy you manually...."
Helen felt used and outraged. "Oh, I wouldn't dream of imposing on you."
He glanced at his watch. "It's no imposition, dear. I'm happy to. I do owe you some pleasure. You gave me so much a moment ago."
She wanted to tell him to go to hell, but her cunt ... her cunt wanted whatever it could get. She found herself opening her legs and saying, "Yes, please, Jim...."
She couldn't stand the smirk he gave her. She crossed both her arms over her eyes and waited as he shifted to his side, as he lowered his head to suck on her nipples ... as his left hand burrowed between her open thighs.
She inhaled sharply as his middle finger found her opening and slid into the hot, slippery interior. His finger sank quickly deep, curious, exploring.
He nipped a nipple with his teeth and a flare of pure lust exploded in her cunt. Her hips jumped.
He chuckled with the knowledge. He bit her nipple again and probed more deeply with his finger. "You like a bit of pain?"
She reluctantly admitted, in a whisper, "I guess so, a little bit."
She gasped as he jabbed still deeper with his middle finger, pressing the flesh of her slit upward.
He took his mouth from her tingling nipple. "For a tiny woman, you go deep." He sounded offended.
Helen said nothing. Her clitoris waited, vibrant, for stroking.
He tried to burrow his finger further. His fingertip in her depths was still short of her special ecstasy spot.
But he kept trying, uttering to himself. He used his other hand to pinch her nipples, hard!
The pain from her nipples turned to a heat that turned up the level of her lust. She found her hips beginning small writhings, jerkings. ... Her breathing deepened.
Helen wondered what was wrong with her. Why was she submitting to this abuse, this humiliation from a fat, impotent, inconsiderate old son of a bitch?
She loathed herself. But her thighs remained wide open to his cruel hand, and she made no move to prevent the continuing abuse of her breasts and nipples.
She opened her eyes and peered at him through the gap between her forearms across her face. There was a nakedly malicious expression on his face. Contempt. Hatred?
Oggutt grew tired of trying to find bottom. He shifted position and cupped her cunt with his hand. His middle finger remained buried in the tight, rippled tunnel. The slightly calloused pad at the base of his finger grazed her swollen clitoris.
He began finger fucking her with short, vicious jabs.
Helen jerked with pleasure-her clit was finally getting the sweet, abrasive rub it needed!
"You like that, uh?" He nodded and smirked. "I ought to write my cousin. He could satisfy you. When we were kids-you know how kids fool around-we used to go someplace and show our pricks. Christ, was he hung! Always had a hard-on, too. He used to line up ten pennies along the topside of his prick. Funny thing is, he married a little woman like you. Told me she could take every penny he had!"
Oggutt laughed and looked for Helen's reaction.
She said, "They were both rich, then."
His grin soured. "Yeah, I guess so." He stopped finger fucking.
Helen blurted urgently, "Oh, God, Jim, don't stop!"
"Uhh." he continued the rapid finger jabbing. His palm continued to cup and rub her cunt.
Helen closed her eyes and concentrated on the sweet, pain-mixed sensations. The base of his finger was pressing and rubbing her clit harder.
Helen abandoned herself to the pleasure. It was surging, coming stronger and stronger, in waves of intensifying sensation.
Her belly and hips began to undulate under his working hand and finger. Her breath came louder, through the symbolic fence of her forearms.
Oggutt said, "Really getting it on, hmm? I guess it doesn't take much for a hot young widow, hmm?"
She didn't hear him. She was coming. She gritted her teeth as the peak shook her body. Her hands clenched on either side of her head. Her belly sucked in and bloated.
He knew she had climaxed. He nevertheless kept on jabbing his finger in and out of her cunt, kept on gripping her mound and punishing her supersensitive clitoris.
Helen's thighs began to jerk. She hissed, "Oh, stop ... Stop!"
He drew his hand away. He wiped his wet finger with the flowered bed sheet. "Sounded like you had a good one." He patted her belly.
Helen lay with her arms still crossed over her face, unwilling to enter his world, unwilling to cope with getting rid of him, with the look she knew would be in his eyes.
Yes, she had had a good, strong orgasm ... a clitoral orgasm ... and the vague, subtle aching need deep in her cunt was still there, still unsatisfied.
He left the bed and began to dress, grunting softly as he bent over. He asked, "What do you want to do about your car insurance?"
"What can I do?"
"It's illegal to drive without insurance. You'll have to pay it. You can't get along without a car. There is no bus service worthy of the name in this area. The stores are beyond easy walking distance."
"I don't have the money to spare."
"Then somebody will have to pay it for you Hmm?"
His tone-Helen uncovered her face. She forced herself to meet his calculating gaze.
Oggutt stepped into his slacks. "I could pay it, Helen. I'd be happy to, for as many months as you like, provided we ... provided you do me-favors now and then."
She knew. She found the courage to say, "Like just now?" She wanted to hurt him. "Suck-off "favors" because you're unable to fuck worth a damn?"
He flinched. "I always thought you were a slut."
She turned her face away. "Leave me alone." She added, "Don't call me and don't come back." He finished dressing in silence. When he left he slammed the door.
Helen barely heard it through her sobs.
CHAPTER FOUR
Helen was putting fresh underwear into the top drawer of Tommy's bureau when she saw the edge of an envelope under the pile of his T-shirts.
She stopped. She chewed her lower lip. Finally, she pulled the envelope free and looked at it. Her heart began to pound. The envelope felt as if it held more photos.
Guiltily, she glanced at her wristwatch. Ten-thirty. The morning was only half gone ... and she was itchy with lust, eager to see if there were more pictures of her son ... doing obscene things ... naked ... his incredibly large cock....
She flung the envelope to the floor and lifted her chin with determination to stop these dirty thoughts!
But her eyes returned to the envelope. She had a right and duty to know what he was up to ... what he was getting himself into.
She made a move to pick up the envelope, stopped, then with a small cry of exasperation and surrender picked it up and pulled out the tucked-in flat. Her hands shook as she took out a set of color Polaroid photos.
Helen retreated to Tommy's bed. She sat and dealt out the pictures in a row on the red and blue striped bedspread.
Her blue eyes widened. She unconsciously licked her lips as she stared.
A low moan escaped her lips as she took in the scene in the first photo. Tommy was fucking a cute, naked, little redhead, about thirteen or fourteen-years-old ... and the shameless girl was smiling, with her legs drawn up to let the camera see he had half his giant cock buried in her barely-fuzzed pussy.
Helen smiled and whispered, "See how you smile if he tries to shove it all in, you little bitch! It takes a woman to ... an experienced, loving woman who has had...."
Helen blinked as she became aware of her voice, of her words.
The soft terror returned to her guts. She wanted to burn the photos-and cut part of her brain out, that part which was making these terrible thoughts and causing her body to seethe with this awful need!
She reached out with a trembling hand and turned the other photos face down on the bed. She took a deep, quivering breath.
Now ... She deliberately studied the first photo. The girl was vaguely familiar. Probably from the neighborhood. A rounded face, button nose, rosebud lips. Fleshy breasts, too large, too soon. Nothing in the way of nipples. Little pink bumps. What did Tommy see in that young slut? Why does he want her when he could have NO!
Helen flung herself off the bed and rushed into the living room. She stood staring blindly out of the big window, seeing the photo in her mind, envying the girl those magnificently hard, thick inches of Tommy's wonderful cock.
Her own cunt seemed to throb, to pulse with its hunger.
She whimpered and went back into Tommy's bedroom. She climbed onto his bed and sat yogi-style, facing the face down photos.
She turned up the next picture. She stared and closed her eyes and shivered with desire. It showed Tommy eating the girl's pussy, his tongue into the pink groove, his eyes looking into the camera lens.
My Tommy sucks. He eats cunt. He could drive me Helen shook her head violently. She rubbed her face with her hands and looked again at the upturned photo. The girl was enjoying Tommy's tongue-her plump face showed a knitting of her brows, a pain-like expression .,. because she was about to come.
Helen peered closely at the photo. Tommy seemed to know what he was doing. His hands held the pussy open and his tongue-a long, wide, strong tongue-was stroking the tiny valley where the girl's clitoris lived.
Helen's right hand crept under her short skirt and into her pantyhose. Her first finger and middle finger pushed down to her open slit. Her wide open thighs gave her a feeling of daring and sensual abandon.
She grunted softly to herself as her fingers eased into the wet, slippery gorge and trapped her sensitive clitoris between them.
She began sliding her hand up and down, grazing her fingers against her clit. She hunched forward, breathing faster, her gaze riveted on the photo ... on Tommy's lovely tongue.
Helen squinted at the photo-and the girl's face changed....
From a great distance a faint whisper in her mind asked, Do you like a lot of tongue, Mom?
I adore it, honey.
I dig licking you, Mom, you really come like crazy.
You lick me like crazy, honey....
The magic tongue dipped low in her flushed slit and flipped upward over her vibrant clit. She moaned and shivered. Faster ... the tongue licked harder and harder and faster .., velvet, slippery....
Helen rocked on the bed, eyes closed, hand buried in her pantyhose, fingers thrumming in her gaping, juicy slit.
She panted shamelessly. She came with a series of sharp orgasmic cries that were tom from her guts. Then she relaxed, slumped, and whispered, "Oh, Tommy-"
Her eyes flew open. She tensed and looked sharply, fearfully, at the doorway. Had somebody called? Tommy? She strained for sounds. Silence.
She slowly relaxed. She confronted, again, the photos on the bed before her. She took her hand from inside her pantyhose. Her fingers were sticky and musky-smelling. She held her hand away from her and turned over the next photo with her other hand.
She blinked and couldn't believe her eyes for a few seconds. There lay Tommy on the bed pictured in the other photos-same quilt, same modern aluminum-framed window and pink plaster wall in the background.
There he lay, grinning, with his massive cock in full erection, while two identical girls-two of the girls he had gone down on in the previous photo, two of the ones he had been fucking-were fondling and licking and sucking his cock.
Twins! Of course! Now Helen knew them-the Harris twins. They lived two blocks down and one over in the large ranch-style home with the magnificent shaped-stone fireplace.
The Harrises had money. And the twins were known to be little hellions. This set of photos proved that.
Helen couldn't look away from the photo. They seemed so ... casual and open and ... uninhibited ... about sucking and playing with Tommy ... and Helen turned over-the last photo. One of the girls was straddling Tommy, taking his giant cock deep into her young cunt, but still only taking a bit more than half its incredible thickness and length.
Sex was a game for them all.
Helen's insides were a sweet, aching need, a fist of desire surrounding the hungry, hot emptiness of her cunt. Sex wasn't a game for her. She thought it was a compulsion ... a mania ... a deep, neurotic drive that would bring her to an extreme ... an extreme, terrible....
She couldn't complete the thought. The terror in her guts was more intense.
With trembling hands she gathered the photos and stuffed them back into the envelope. She straightened her legs from the yogi position and suffered pins-and-needles for a moment.
She slipped the envelope back under Tommy's pile of T-shirts in the drawer. She didn't realize she had not arranged the photos in the original sequence, and that a small length of thread had been disturbed by her opening the drawer. She was too intent on what she had to do next-to quiet the raging ache in her deep, itching cunt.
She went into her own bedroom and opened her closet. She took a shoebox from the back. From the box she took a torpedo-shaped, ivory-colored, battery-operated vibrator.
It was a special, extra-long size. Ten inches, with a twist-switch at the knurled base. She kept it wrapped in a hand towel.
With feverish, desperate haste, she stripped naked. She went to her knees at the edge of the green loop rug. She took an expensive suction base from the box and pressed the large rubber cup to the varnished wood flooring just beyond the edge of the rug.
She inserted the blunt end of the vibrator into the base and twisted the long torpedo one-half turn to the left. The long, smooth plastic prick came alive.
It stood stiff and hard, angled slightly forward, buzzing softly.
Helen blinked more quickly as she gathered two small, decorative, fringed pillows from the bed. She positioned them on either side of the buzzing vibrator.
She knelt and settled her knees on the pillows. She edged forward on hands and knees until the vibrating nose of the device prodded her belly.
She lowered her head and peered between her hanging, white, pear-like breasts at the thing-long, thick, humming-that reared up between her thighs.
Helen swallowed and closed her eyes and reached under to hold the buzzing monster. She licked her lips, grimaced, and raised up ... edged forward a bit more....
She hissed as the smooth, cool, buzzing tip was guided into her juicy clit. The buzz changed to a faint sizzling because of her extreme wetness.
An anguished, pleasured "Uhhh!" was torn from her grimacing lips as the tip grazed her extended clitoris. Her hand guided the humming tip to a slow, circular caress of the swollen clit.
She spasmed, panting, and again a moment later. She moaned, "Oh, God ... God...."
After another quick, intense climax that left her quivering like a spent race horse, she nosed the rounded, buzzing vibrator into her waiting, yearning cunt.
She settled down on it ... took her hand away, braced her hands flat on the hardwood floor next to her pillow-cushioned knees ... and began a slow thrusting, down, down, taking thick inches of humming, ivory plastic.
Her throat worked as the vibration seemed to fill her guts. She wanted more ... more....
Helen's cunt spread wet pink lips lower and lower on the perfect round shaft. Her hips rose and fell, rose and fell, driving the long cylinder ever further into her body.
The buzzing touch reached her innermost depths ... the sensitive area almost at the end of her channel. Her belly sucked in, relaxed, tensed She exhaled sharply. Her neck muscles stood out. She sobbed and dug her fingers at the shiny, varnished wood. "Uhhh Uhhh! UHHH!"
She hunched lower, till her forehead almost touched the cool floor. Her inner thighs quivered. Her hips began to jerk up and down, began to fuck the ten-inch vibrator to within a few inches of the rubber suction base.
Her insides were golden, lava, burning....She drew ragged, quavering breaths. It was so good . ... But the sensations were explosions, wracking convulsions....
She was on an escalator of climaxes. Each great, swift bubble of pleasure was more intense, more exhausting.
Helen's hands were clenched fists, her eyes were shut tight, her mouth in a grimace. Her belly sucked and bloated, her breasts trembled, her nipples were hot stones. Her body was rigid except at the pelvic joints.
She fucked the long, thick vibrator savagely, disjointedly, awkwardly. Her coordination was gone. There was no fluid movement, no grace.
There was only the blinding, keen-too keen!-pleasure, the scalding vibrations, the smooth, slick torpedo sliding up into her guts, buzzing....
The climaxes became like shattering glass ... STRONG! TOO STRONG!
With a sobbing, howl, Helen flung herself forward, off the devilish impalement. She lay face down on the cool wood, her breasts squashed, her burning nipples drinking the coolness, her hips still reflexively moving in muted fucking, her dripping cunt kissing the shiny hardwood.
After long, quieting minutes, Helen stirred and rolled over onto her back. At last, for a while, the demon in her cunt was silent, satiated.
But she was so ashamed ... so filled with self-contempt.
She heard the continuing buzzing of the vibrator. It still reared upward at an angle from its base, ever ready to substitute for Helen dug her fingers into her short blonde hair. "Stop it! Stop it! Stop it!"
CHAPTER FIVE
It was three days later that the next "incident" with Tommy occurred.
It was a Friday night after a football game which Tommy's team had lost and in which Tommy had dropped three passes.
He was surly when she drove him home from the game. He complained about the slippery footing and the opposing defensive back who had interfered all the time.
Helen made sympathetic noises and tried to assure him he'd do better next time.
He glowered at the passing houses and said, "Oh, shit, mom. Don't con me. I stink. The coach is going to bump me to sub end. I can't even make first string on a lousy intramural frosh squad!"
She made the mistake of saying, "Well, maybe your talents lie in other areas."
He looked at her sideways, suddenly grinning ... smirking ... and said, "Yeah, maybe you're right."
She kept her eyes on the road, but she knew what he meant ... and a slow flush pinked her neck and then her face. She couldn't stop it. Her skin felt hot.
Tommy settled low in the seat beside her. He chuckled. "I guess I'd better concentrate on those other areas."
Her mouth went dry. She couldn't speak. The sweet dread came alive in her guts.
It was an hour after that when it happened.
Helen was in the kitchen frying him a huge hamburger steak when he came padding in wearing only a skimpy towel around his middle. He was wet from the tub, his hair plastered to his forehead.
"Mom, I broke my comb. You got any spares? I don't want to use the ones you keep in there."
Helen's eyes darted up to his face, to his towel-covered loins, to his face-an involuntary betrayal. Her gaze skittered away' "Oh-yes, in the linen closet ... behind the first-aid box."
He grinned that grin. "Looks good, doesn't it?"
She felt panic. Had he noticed her glance? His cock was at least half-hard under the towel, bulging out....
She stammered, "W-what?"
"It's big, isn't it? Must weigh at least a pound."
She paled. Was he saying what she thought he was saying?
"The steak, mom."
"Oh! Yes."
Then it happened. He took a step toward the drain-board to pluck a piece of lettuce from the salad. Somehow his towel came unknotted from around his waist....
Suddenly Tommy was stark naked before her, half facing her, his magnificent cock sticking out and down like a soft white club, its mauve head also moist from the bath ... the cock swaying delicately, entrancingly ... drawing her eyes like a magnet.
Helen gasped. "Tommy...." It was a plea, a despairing entreaty.
"Hmm? Oh." he looked down. He didn't make a move to retrieve the fallen towel. He stood still, giving his mother a fine profile view of his big cock. He casually popped the piece of lettuce into his mouth. "I don't have much of a waist ... or skinny hips ... or something. This happens all the time. It's why my pants always ride so low."
"Please ... cover yourself."
"Sure, okay." He stooped and picked up the towel. As he re-knotted it he looked at her and smiled, as if surprised and pleased. "Hey, does that bother you, mom? My bare-ass?"
She had to say, "No! It's just-"
"You used to tell me-you and Dad-there wasn't anything to be ashamed of, you know, about the body."
"That's right. But...." She stopped, baffled, confounded, rattled. All she could add was, "You're getting to be a man now."
Dear God, getting to be!
Tommy shrugged. He grinned. "Yeah, I guess I am. I'm bigger than dad, right now, ain't I?" Helen forced herself to tend to the steak. Was he playing with her? Were these double-meaning remarks a game? She answered, "Yes, honey ... you're bigger. Much bigger."
"And I'm only fifteen."
She closed her eyes for a second. "You-you'd better get dressed for supper now."
She remained rigid, poking at the steak, as he sauntered from the kitchen.
But worse was to come.
After supper, after he had completed his homework, when Helen sat in the living room in her pajamas and robe, watching "The Rockford Files," Tommy drifted into the room.
Helen wasn't aware of him until he flopped down beside her in the deep-cushioned, high-backed colonial sofa.
He edged too close to her.
Helen pretended not to notice, but she began nibbling her lower lip. She noticed he had a slim, blue school book in his hand. She relaxed.
"Mom?"
"Can it wait for a commercial?"
"It's important!"
"All right." She regretfully used the remote control device to shut off the twenty-one inch RCA color set. She half turned to her son.
He wore faded, soft jeans and a clean white T-shirt. His hair was combed neatly. He looked scrubbed and earnest. But his unconfined, soft cock bulged down his tight pant leg.
"Mom, I've got this problem...." He toyed with the book. It says in here...." He flipped it open to a page showing It was a sex education text. The illustration showed the male sex organ, complete with testicles, urethra, prostate....
Tommy leaned still closer, till their shoulders touched. He avoided her eyes, but Helen got the impression he was putting on an act. What was he up to now?
Tommy pointed to a line of text. "It says, 'The penis in size rarely exceeds eight inches in length in erection.' "
"Yes?" A trickle of fear formed in her belly.
"Well, gee, I mean, you saw me for a couple seconds today, naked, and I guess you saw I'm pretty big in the dork department.
She had to smile. Dork?
"It's not funny, Mom! I'm worried."
"About what, Tommy? Most boys would be . proud to be above average in size ... in that department."
"Sure, but the guys on the team, and in gym class, they're starting to call me 'horse cock' and 'super stick' and things like that. In the class, and in the halls ... everywhere. It's embarrassing."
"I'm sure it is." A soft, spreading warmth was in her cunt.
"The thing is, Mom, I've got a lot more than the usual six inches. I'm getting a little scared. Because according to the books I'm going to be growing maybe till I'm eighteen ... and I could end up six feet four, with a foot long sex organ." Helen looked into his eyes. He did seem concerned. She could see where he might be both jubilant and scared; he might be exploiting his fame as a heavy stud-the photos showed that!-while being worried sick about the future. Nobody likes being abnormal ... a freak.
She hugged him unselfconsciously, naturally. "Honey, don't borrow trouble. Some boys grow their full potential very early. George was only six feet ... and you won't get any hereditary inches from me, and I don't know of any exceptionally tall man in either of our families, so chances are you'll only get to be about six feet one or two at the most."
"Yeah ... but what about this!" Tommy looked down at his loins and pointed.
Helen had to look. Her throat constricted. His cock was hardening, creeping visibly down the inside of his jeans. Thick! Long!
She couldn't look away. "Oh, Tommy...."
He jumped to his feet. "Just a minute. Let me really show you-" He unsnapped his jeans and ran the zipper in a second. With one fluid move he had the jeans down to his knees and was settling onto the cushion beside her.
Helen sat, frozen. His naked thigh burned against her thigh; her pajama and robe seemed not to exist. His naked loins ... lean ... not an ounce of fat ... and rearing up was the monster cock she had seen in the photos.
Tommy commanded, "Look at it!"
She could barely breathe. Her eyes drank in the sight of the lovely shaft, so white and perfect, and the plum-like glans, and the tiny slit which-as she watched-oozed a tiny accumulation of dew of colorless natural lubricant.
So close. She curled her small hands into her robe and held on tight.
"Mom, I'm worried I'll hurt some girl if I try to make love and forget myself and, you know, start to ram it in because it feels so good."
"Well ... you've got to remember that there are a lot of girls who can ... who are built to-to take a large man. And ... and sometimes very, very large men. You can never tell about a woman."
Helen tried to smile and couldn't. Her cunt was on fire again. It was telling her to reach out....
"Yeah, but I've measured this thing hundreds of times. Six months ago it was eight-and-a-half inches long, and just now when I put my ruler to it ... nine-and-an-eighth inches. Hell, mom, I could have ten inches this time next year."
"T-tommy, just remember, somewhere there's a girl who thinks she's bottomless, and is worried sick she'll never find a young man big enough."
"Sure, but how do I find her? Advertise?"
"She'll find you. Maybe you should be glad the boys in school are talking about you. A lot of girls will hear about how well built you are, and sooner or later, the girl will manage to meet you. See how it works out?"
"I hope so. But there's one more thing ... I need sex a lot. Just being next to a girl-even you-and I get hard like this. I can't seem to control it."
"Tommy, do what you have to do. Just don't get a girl pregnant."
"Shit, no, I won't do that. I always...." He grinned. He changed the subject. "Dad was pretty well hung, too, wasn't he?"
Helen couldn't answer. She began to flush as she caught the mocking-speculative look in Tommy's eyes. Finally, she managed to say stiffly, "That isn't a matter we should talk about."
Tommy shrugged. He flipped his big, hard cock casually. It swayed ponderously in an erratic arc.
Helen couldn't stand it. She jumped to her feet. "Get your pants back up!" She walked into the kitchen, her legs trembling, her cunt smoldering.
She poured herself a glass of unsweetened pineapple juice and reluctantly returned to the living room.
Tommy was gone-back to his room. She heard his stereo come on.
After watching "Police Woman" and the eleven o'clock news, she switched off the TV, checked the front and back door, and headed for the bathroom to do her usual cleansing cream routine before bed.
When she entered the darkened hall she noted that Tommy's hi-fi was silent. His door was ajar. There was a faint light in his room ... and ... she could hear the rhythmic squeaking of his bed.
Helen knew instantly he was in there masturbating! She knew the door was ajar to let her hear-and see-if she wanted to. That was why his little high-intensity bedside lamp was on.
She turned angrily toward the bathroom ... and stopped. She stood silent, fighting within herself, and listened to the squawk-squeak-squawk of his bed's springs and frame.
She almost rushed into his room to accuse him, to shame him, to curse him. But she canceled that impulse, too.
She listened. The sounds were faster paced now ... Was he getting close? Would he shoot high? Would With a low, helpless moan, Helen turned as if against great pressure, and moved on silent, slippered feet to her son's door. She held her breath and peered through the narrow opening.
Tommy was lying totally naked on the covers of his bed. His back was propped up by pillows. He had a tremendous erection! His big right hand was wrapped around his cock, drawing the white skin up and down, up and down ... long swoops of movement up and down the incredible shaft....
Did his eyes flicker toward the door?
Helen shrank away from the opening, trembling, her mind full of the image of his magnificently proportioned organ. She couldn't not look again. She edged to the opening, reassured by the continuing sounds of his masturbating.
He seemed more concentrated, more intense, when she peeked again. He was breathing through his mouth. His fist was flying up and down now. The bed was complaining in a continuous melody of squeaks and creaks.
The small spotlight at the end of a two-foot arm, positioned high beside his head, shone a brilliant pool of light on his loins ... on the huge cock ... on the blur of his grasping, pumping fist.
The sounds, the swift movement, his rough breathing, the white pole with its violet cap ... it was hypnotizing.
Helen watched, entranced, breathless. Her cunt wanted that lovely, huge cock! YES! YES! Wanted it deep in her guts, wanted it plunging, thrusting, driving, filling her, stretching her-oh, God, YES! More and MORE!
She was gasping, her hands were inside her pajamas, clamping on her breasts, one hand violating her wet cunt, prodding fingers into the feverish tunnel, rubbing the taut clitoris.
Tommy bowed forward, rigid. His right hand pumped his giant cock in a final, sustained frenzy.
Helen, watching, raping herself with her hands, licked her lips continuously, unaware. Her hot gaze was locked on her son's violently moving cock.
Then-He spurted! A white plume of semen shot three feet into the air. Another gob shot upward....
Helen's eyes dilated. She sucked air and spasmed. Her juicy cunt contracted around her jamming fingers. She almost collapsed.
Tommy emitted keening grunts of pleasure. His hand slowed. Semen drooled from the slit on the head of his cock. He sighed. He stopped.
Helen sank slowly backward against the wall by his door. Dull-eyed, she recovered enough to move unsteadily away. She entered the bathroom, shut the door, punched the switch for the extra fluorescent light over the mirror, and mechanically began to wash her hands.
Her conscience screamed in a thin, muted voice deep in her fuzzy mind. I can't let it happen ... I can't let it happen....
CHAPTER SIX
A few days later, in the early afternoon, a young vacuum cleaner salesman came to the door.
Helen was in the middle of changing from old work jeans and an old sweater Tommy had outgrown, to a blouse and skirt.
She hesitated when the front door chimes sounded. She was naked except for the flimsy red panties she had just stepped into.
The chimes sounded again, commanding her to respond.
She made a moue of exasperation and reached for the thin cotton dressing gown lying across the bed.
She checked first through the peephole in the door. The lens showed her a tall, thin young man in a neat, mod-style gray suit.
She opened the door.
His instant, lop-sided grin charmed her. "Hi, ma'am. My name is Byron Parker, and I'm in your neighborhood today to ask you if you'd like to have your rug cleaned at absolutely no cost to you and with absolutely no obligation. That sound good?"
She smiled. "Of course it sounds good."
"Oh, no empty promises from Byron Parker, ma'am. I'm a bonded representative of the Supreme Cleaning Company, and if you'll let me, I'll astound you at the amount of ugly dirt I'll pump out of your carpet, even if you want to use your old vacuum sweeper before I go to work." He dipped and lifted a large, heavy case that had been resting beside the door. "Only take a few minutes of your time, and you won't be sorry, believe me."
He grinned engagingly and took a step forward.
Helen yielded, but said, "I'm warning you ahead of time ... Byron ... I don't have any money and I simply cannot take on any installment payments."
"There's no obligation, so no need to worry. I'm not going to high pressure you. I want to show you our machine, show you how superior it is to the old-fashioned vacuum cleaner you have now, and leave you my card and some literature. You'll be convinced the Supreme is what you need, and it'll be just a question of when you buy it."
He was in the house now, in the entrance way, lowering his heavy, plastic-leather covered case to the floor.
"If you'll call the other people in the house to witness the miracle of cleaning I'm about to perform....
Helen admitted, as she closed the front door, "No, my son is at school." She began to regret letting him in; this promised to be a long, pointless battle. She couldn't afford a new whisk broom, let alone a new, overpriced vacuum cleaner.
She said, "Listen, Byron, I don't think-"
As Helen turned to face him she caught a glimpse of his arms coming at her-his face transformed to a lust-crazed mask.
His hands tore at her robe. She was pulled off balance, hauled into his arms. She drew a frantic breath to scream, but his big, strong, sweaty hand clamped over her mouth. His other arm held her captive against his thin, steely body.
In the instant, Helen was never more aware of her small size and relative physical weakness. A five-foot woman had no chance against a savagely strong six-foot man.
Byron hissed into her ear, "Be nice to me, be nice to me. I need it bad. I need it. I've got a knife in my pocket and I'll use it if I have to. I mean it!"
Helen's terror screamed through her body. She struggled briefly, and knew the horror of true helplessness. He was incredibly strong. The adrenalin, the desperation, must be pumping in his veins under great pressure.
His left hand, clamped on her mouth, was hurting her cheeks and jaw. His other hand was clawing her robe open ... and now was roughly fondling her teacup-size breasts.
He panted into her ear, "I'm going to screw you, lady. I'm going to do it! I'm going to screw you; It's going to happen! You'll only get hurt if you try to fight!"
His right hand traveled roughly over her nakedness, found her loins, dug under the waistband of her sheer red panties and probed to her slit.
He grunted with lust. "OH, YES, LADY, I'M GOING TO FUCK THIS HOLE GOOD!"
Helen fought for breath. His hand was on her nose, suffocating her. She used her free hands to try to pull his hand away. She made urgent sounds in her throat. She didn't think of trying to poke blindly at his eyes, or somehow hit him in the balls. Her only thought was to breathe!
He sensed her problem and shifted his hand lower to free her nostrils. In the midst of his rage and lust he turned suddenly considerate and contrite. "Hey, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to choke you or anything."
While his hand sent three bunched fingers into her cunt, hooking into her, wetting themselves in her quickly flowing secretions.
Helen drew deep lungfuls of air. Her chest surged and her right breast pressed and molded against his arm. The nipple hardened against the rough weave of his gray suit coat.
Byron switched back to the role of rapist. "I won't hurt you unless you scream or try to get away. You understand? Do you?"
She nodded yes. She forced herself to relax, to untense. She hated the way her cunt was acting-a separate mind-turning on from his promise to fuck her, and from his marauding hand.
She knew she really had nothing to fear from him. All she had to do was let him have his way ... let him give her insatiable cunt what it needed.
Byron cautiously eased his hand from her mouth. Then abruptly he clamped his arm across her chest. His hand gripped her right breast. His fingers dug into the soft flesh and popped the hardened nipple into his palm.
He was breathing heavily, excitedly, scared and passionate. "Okay ... okay now ... where's your bedroom?"
Helen gasped, "That door...." She indicated with her head. "To the left."
His fingers were still jammed into her hot cunt. He slipped them out and slid his hand further into her crotch. He lifted her-his middle finger pressed into the crack of her ass, his fingertip pressuring into her anus-and with her locked against him, carried her easily into the hall, to the left, and into the master bedroom.
Helen squirmed on the small, exciting anal impalement. She was becoming more and more turned on. Byron Parker knew what he wanted and was taking it!
She squealed with surprise and masked delight as he threw her on the big bed.
He watched her, narrow-eyed, menacing. "You hear me now, ma'am. I'm going to take my satisfaction, I'm going to do it, so you be quiet and there'll be no harm. I can promise you that. I don't lie."
He waited, wary, to see what she would do or say.
Helen nodded. "All right, Byron. I'll let you do it. I guess you really do need sex, so...." She trembled a smile. She licked her lips. Fear was still in her. Her belly was full of muted terror and her cunt was full of lust.
He started to take down his pants, stopped, shrugged off his coat and folded it over the back of her slipper chair. He never took his eyes off her. He said, "You get outa that robe, and those-" He grinned boyishly. "-those sexy red panties."
Helen quickly obeyed. She saw his erection.
She hadn't been aware of it when he held her, or when he carried her into the room.
Byron stepped out of his shorts, having carefully laid his pants on the chair and having slipped off his black side-buckle shoes.
She was ... disappointed. He was average size. She made a joke to herself in her mind, in spite of fear and lust. Rapees can't be choosers.
She lay on her back, naked, propped up on her elbows, and watched, wide-eyed, apprehensive, not really sure she believed him, as he climbed onto the bed.
At least he was beautifully lean and hard muscled, with a washboard belly and sinewy arms. And he was clean.
"Come on, get your legs open! Let me see that steamy hole!" He roughly pulled her legs wide. He glared at her revealed pussy.
She risked asking, "Don't you have a girl friend, Byron?"
He grinned. "Sure. Suzy's a really nice girl. She's a virgin. We agreed not to mess around till we're married."
He moved forward between Helen's legs. He waved his hard cock at her. "Like a rock. When I get this baby in that hole you'll know what a man-a real man-can do for you. I'll bet your husband doesn't give you enough loving, does he?"
Helen said quietly, "Not any more." Her throat tightened with awakened grief.
"Yeah! Yeah. You know, I screw about three of you sexy housewives a week. No problem. Just like you-they come to the door sometimes dressed in next to nothing, advertising, and all I have to do is push it a little-just like with you-and they practically fall into bed. Sex hungry. I don't have to bother Suzy for sex. I get all I want going from door to door." He snickered. "And sometimes I sell a Supreme in the bargain. A lot of lonely housewives appreciate a good hard screw."
She wanted to ask him if he guaranteed satisfaction-other than his own. Did any of the women call the police afterward? Probably not. Too embarrassing, too humiliating, too much legal hassle-court-lawyers-testifying-proving-medical examinations....
Undoubtedly Byron Parker was a shrewd judge of women. He had a sixth sense that told him when he could get away with this. Some fine reading of body language, maybe some marginal telepathy on an unconscious level.
He wrestled her legs up and pushed her knees to her chest. "You're really going to feel this, believe me."
He plugged himself into her. He closed his eyes and began screwing her. Banging her.
Helen's eyes began to sparkle after a minute.
Of course he wasn't penetrating very deep, but he was fucking fast, and hard, jolting her with his quick thrusts, smacking his loins to hers.
Her clitoris was alive! Sending sweet shocks of delight through her small, slim body. Her nipples were pink pebbles, burning, adding sensations to the hot symphony.
She knew he was a typical young man-fucking her with infinite selfishness-eyes closed as he labored, probably fantasizing he was fucking Suzy.
Helen hoped his selfishness lasted a few more minutes. She lay on her back, hugging her knees, loving his pounding assault. She breathed through her mouth, tightened her hold on her legs, gradually drew herself tighter, offered her pussy more openly, gasped as his pounding in her cunt brought her near a heavy climax. Her belly was flexing, locking....
But he lunged into her with a grunting, wailing cry, and she felt the first jet of his semen spray deep in her clenching cunt.
She moaned with frustration as he finished shooting in her and stopped fucking.
Byron smiled softly. "Yeah, that was a good one. That definitely was a good one."
Helen bit her lower lip and asked, "Do you want to do it again? Can you do it again?"
He was delighted. "Can I?" Hey, little woman, I'm a pistol! You give me maybe five minutes to rest, and I'll plug you again." He flopped onto his back beside her. He was grinning. "You liked it, huh?"
"I sure did." Helen mocked him, but he was unaware. She started to get off the bed. He instantly grabbed her right wrist.
Helen said, "I have to go wash. I don't want to drip all over my bedspread." She held her left hand over her slit.
He decided to trust her. But said, "You leave that door open, and the bathroom door open."
Five minutes later, Helen padded back into the bedroom. The fire was still alive in her cunt, smoldering, needing, demanding.
Byron had pulled a pillow under his head. He was idly playing with his cock. It wasn't hard yet.
She climbed onto the bed. Her cunt made her say, "Want me to make it hard for you?"
"Like how?"
"Like ... some tongue?" She flushed.
A slow, dirty smile widened Byron's lean face. "You're one of those kind of women, huh? Like to suck. Sure, suck away."
Helen felt soiled and humiliated, but she crawled into position and for the first time got a good, close look at his cock.
He wasn't circumcised. His glans nestled in a cowl of skin. When she touched him, his cock shrank further into its nest of skin and hair. But it seemed to gain courage as she played with it, and came out....
When it was half-hard, Helen dipped her head and took it into her mouth. It tasted a bit salty and scummy at first.
Byron breathed, "All right...." as she took more of his cock and suckled it clean.
Helen kept her mind on tonguing his glans, on swooping her lips down the skinny shaft. ... His cock hardened dramatically.
She was flattered when he said, watching her suck, "You're the best so far. Hands down. You know, I never force a woman to do this. They all volunteer. I never forced a woman to do this in my life."
Helen lifted her mouth from his straining cock. She said, "You force them to ... have intercourse, though."
He made a face. "Naw ... Not deep down. I push it usually till I'm sure they want it. A woman who really doesn't want to be screwed, she'll make it known! Once or twice that's happened I've backed off right away! I apologize all over the place and cry and make up a story ... 'cause those ladies will turn a guy in. Attempted rape is not a good rap."
Helen reflected on what that said about her. She looked down at his cock. "That's good enough. You're hard."
Byron got to it immediately. Within seconds he had it into her and was banging away, slapping her pussy fast and hard, making her clitoris into a glowing, sparkling locus of pleasure.
He panted as he fucked her, with his eyes closed again.
Helen closed her eyes, too. She saw a scene in her mind; she was apart from herself, an entity, a mind located up near the ceiling, looking down at herself and die young man who was fucking her like a demon.
The vision was very real! Except-the young man was Tommy! He was drilling his enormous cock into her cunt.
Helen's belly fluttered and her loins went molten. The fantasy was triggering her to a swift, heavy orgasm. She felt the gathering tension in her loins ... the golden bubble began to form....
But abruptly Byron's thrusts faltered. He was grunting Helen's eyes flicked open. Her fantasy dissolved. She gasped desperately, "Don't-"
But his face was a mask of seeming agony. His body arched and plunged erratically, powerfully, but she knew he was in the throes of his second coming.
It was all over a few seconds later.
She wanted to kill him. "You came too quick! I was almost...." She was close to tears.
Byron sat up and swung his legs off the bed.
"Hell, I went as long as I could." He wiped sweat off his face. His shanks and arms were sheened. "Took me longer than usual-second time."
"You didn't last more than two or three minutes."
He stood and moved to his carefully folded clothes. "Sorry. I'm really sorry you didn't get your satisfaction." He took up his pants. He said philosophically, "It's been my experience that some women are kind of slow, and with a strange man, you know, maybe you were a little scared of me from the way I came on to you earlier, and all...." He pursed his thin Ups and smiled. "If I was kind of quick this time you got nobody to blame but yourself, the way you sucked me up, and the way your hot hole grabbed my prick, and the way you squirmed around and the noises you made...."
Helen pressed her hand to her leaking pussy and crawled off the big bed. She said viciously, "I'm getting tired of little cocks and short fuses!" She went naked into the bathroom. She was guilty, astonished, and delighted at what she had just said.
As she washed, she heard Byron leave the bedroom and pause outside the closed bathroom door. "Hey little lady, I want you to know, I didn't have a knife. Maybe I'll see you again." Helen didn't move until she heard the front door open and slam. Then she slumped, closed her eyes and whispered, "Dear God, what am I to do?"
She felt dirty. She knew it was probably psychological, but she stepped into the shower ... and took the sprayer down from its holder ... and turned the selector to the pulsing-jet outlet.
The hose was long enough for her to sit on the small stainless steel seat in a comer of the shower stall and rinse herself off in comfort.
When she had the water temperature just right she took the bar of Irish Spring from the tray and lathered her neck, shoulders, breasts------The rhythmic jet of narrow-focus spray reawakened her nipples. The sensation was delightful. She had experienced this before when she used the jet setting, but now ... now it was more sexual than usual.
Helen sat, eyes closed against stray droplets, and directed the pulsing surges of water against her erect nipples. She shivered and rested her head against the cool tile wall of the shower and knew what she'd do next.
After a moment more of enjoying the tingling produced in her crinkled nipples, she aimed the jet lower ... lower ... until it was splashing into the V of her crotch.
Still not looking, still with closed eyes, she slumped lower, and opened her thighs to the warm-hot surges of spray.
She sighed as her slit was penetrated by a few pelting drops. Her clitoris responded. She eagerly opened her thighs wider to part the lips of her pussy. She brought the spray head closer to her body. The impact of the tiny drops was stronger, more exciting.
Helen moaned shamelessly. She moved restlessly on the steel seat. Her legs drew up and her feet braced on the walls.
Now she brought the sprayer very close to her gaping slit. The jet penetrated her cunt. She wanted it to rinse her out, to clean Byron's semen away, as she wanted to rinse the memory of him from her mind.
After a few seconds she altered the direction of the intense spray to impact on her exposed, waiting clitoris.
She inhaled sharply as the pleasure-a strange, frothy pleasure-knotted her stomach and tensed her extended legs.
Helen spasmed powerfully. She panted and shook and kept the spray aimed at her hardened, tingling little organ.
Again ... and again ... she climaxed. She writhed and trembled. Her mouth hung open as she gasped and whimpered. She could come and come and come as long as she could endure it.
She gritted her teeth. She loved it-and hated it. She wanted to be with ... with ... This kind of sex was so empty! She wanted Tommy!
NO!
Helen's face contorted with conflict and continuing pleasure.
That beautiful, big cock. ... he's experienced ... he'd give me the fuck of my life ... he wants me ... he's trying every way to NO! NO! NO!
Helen flung the sprayer away. It cracked against the shower stall tiles, fell to the tiled floor and writhed like a snake from the force of its continuing, pulsing jet.
Helen let her feet drop from their wide, braced position against the walls. She huddled and wept.
The sprayer bathed her feet and ankles for long minutes before she could stop crying.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Helen was settled into the sofa to watch the "Johnny Carson Show" on Friday night, when Tommy wandered into the living room. He wore his pajama pants very low on his lean, bony hips, and he was bare-chested.
Helen saw him and her mouth went dry. A cold, clammy fear curdled her stomach. She saw that his cock was at least half-hard under the loose blue cotton print. It hung massively down his left leg, pushing out, wobbling....
She sat hypnotized.
He seemed aware of her fearful, hungry gaze. He stood for a few seconds, watching her. Then he grinned, as if to tell her he knew her weakness and her lust.
But then Tommy switched to the role of son. "I'm hungry. Any of that stew left ... or something?"
Helen whispered, "Yes-" She cleared her throat of the sudden phlegm. "In the frig. There's apples and raw carrots ... cookies ... You know where things are."
She sat listening to him forage in the kitchen. She sat dreading what he would-might-do next.
The opening joke of Johnny's monolog caught her attention and she giggled, forgetting Tommy for a few seconds. But then she was startled and shocked when Tommy flopped into the sofa beside her-too close!-and began slurping big tablespoonfuls of cold stew.
She went cold and then hot. She darted furtive glances at his bulging loins. His pajamas were halfway down his naked hip. The drawstring knot was loose. The pajama gaped below the knot to provide a glimpse of thick, white cock.
She felt terribly naked inside her silky pink pajamas and thin robe. Her nipples hardened. The special place deep in her cunt began to itch ... and spread heat.
Tommy's left thigh seemed to bum against her right thigh. She couldn't concentrate on the Carson monolog, the jokes. Though Tommy was able to; he laughed and snorted at the political jokes and put-downs.
Then came a spate of commercials. Tommy put the empty bowl on the floor by his bare feet. He sucked at a tooth and said, "You know, Mom, you're a really pretty woman. You really are. I can see why Dad married you, all right."
Helen turned apprehensive blue eyes to him. He grinned ... that charming, infectious grin! "I'll bet you miss him a lot."
"Yes."
"You think I look like him?"
She swallowed past a constricted throat. "Yes."
"Only I'm bigger ... a lot bigger, huh?"
She didn't answer. She watched him as a rabbit watches a big, coiled snake. It seemed to her his thigh was pressing against her thigh.
Tommy put his hand on his thigh and began slowly, sensuously, rubbing the cotton up and down on his leg. His little finger very lightly grazed her leg in the process. "It must be sort of tough on you, going so long without a man." Helen had to breathe through her mouth. "What ... what are you getting at, Tommy?"
"Nothing much." His finger was making firmer contact with her thigh. "It's just that sometimes I heard things ... you know, at night, when you and Dad were in your bedroom ... making love...."
"Tommy!"
"Well, I couldn't help hearing." He grinned and sought her eyes. "I wasn't shocked or anything. I thought it was great you were enjoying sex so much ... compared to what goes down with most parents nowadays. That's why I figure you must be suffering, without a man like Dad around to ... sort of ... take care of you in certain ways."
His left hand slid gradually over onto her thigh. Helen couldn't believe it. Her guts were watery with dread and boiling with lust. She was almost gasping with fear.
She managed, "Stop it. Don't."
His hand spread wide on her thigh, slowly caressing, slowly ... "I think everybody has a right to good sex. It's natural. I don't believe in a lot of crappy inhibitions and old-fashioned rules about not having sex fun and not enjoying your body."
She whispered, pleaded, "Tommy...." She watched his hand moving, moving, the heat burning to her sensitized skin. And her gaze was attracted by the growing, ever more prominent bulge of his cock. She could see it creeping inside his pajama leg ... longer and longer ... jerking slightly with the pounding of his heart.
Tommy said, "Maybe that was where I got my attitude, from hearing you and Dad really enjoying the hell out of sex, really digging it and not having any inhibitions and restrictions ... like the way you...."
Helen was frozen, in a limbo.
"... the way you went down on him."
She began to shake. Tears rolled down her cheeks.
Tommy noticed. "Hey, mom...." He turned and took her into his arms as a son.
Helen resisted at first, misunderstanding. Then she gradually relaxed and melted against his naked chest. His arms were strong, reassuring, and he didn't touch her in a sexual manner.
Tommy said softly, "Hey, I miss him a lot, too. In a lot of ways. He was a wonderful dad. We talked a lot, man-to-man. I could ask him anything. He told me, too, no bull, and no evasions."
Helen couldn't speak. She wept against Tommy's bare shoulder.
"Maybe he had a suspicion ... Maybe he had some heart pains he didn't tell anybody about, because about a month before he died ... he told me that if he ever had an accident or just plain died ahead of schedule, you know, then I was to be the man of the house and take care of you, as best I could."
Helen stopped crying. She opened her eyes and listened.
"Course, I can't go out and get a job that'd be worth having, not yet, but I can help you in other ways you need a man."
She began to tense in his arms. The terror returned to her guts ... and the lust.
Tommy shifted slightly-and now she felt the hot, throbbing length of his massive cock pressing into the valley of her small, slim thighs, only lightly inhibited by his pajamas.
The touch, the proximity, made her cunt blaze with need. She tightened her grip on his arms. She choked, "Tommy-"
"It's okay, mom. I know what dad really meant." His hand crept between their bodies ... crept to a breast and covered it ... and squeezed....
"Don't ... no ... George couldn't have ... you can't...."
But his strong fingers continued to squeeze, to mold her small, covered breast, to excite the nipple.
"It isn't wrong, mom, I know it isn't. We're like two hungry people who have the power to help each other. It's right."
Helen began to shake. His touch was too arousing! She was teetering on the ragged edge of abandoning herself to She couldn't push his hand away. She pleaded, "Tommy, stop it. Please, stop it! Don't touch me like that."
"I want to, though. And you want me to, too. I know you do."
He wormed his hand into her robe ... into her pajama top-a quick finger flick and a button was undone-and suddenly his warm, inquisitive, strong fingers were touching her hot skin, touching just below the swelling flesh of her right breast.
Helen jammed her face against his naked shoulder. No, no, no, NO! She went icy hot as his hand moved up and closed over her naked, trembling breast.
She screamed and flung herself away, fought clear of his reaching hands. She staggered to her feet beside the sofa. Her blue eyes were wide with fear and submerged want. "Oh, God, Tommy! We can't! WE CAN'T!"
"Mom-"
"Leave me alone!" She turned and fled blindly ... into the kitchen. She desperately pressed herself full-length against the cool white front of the refrigerator.
She waited for him to come and claim her, to take her....
But Tommy went to his bedroom.
Helen gradually calmed down. She slumped into a kitchen chair. She knew ... she knew the next time he did that....
Her right breast tingled with the memory of his brief, terribly exciting touch. Her wet cunt-hungered.
She had to keep fighting the inevitable.
Five minutes later she was in her locked bedroom, sobbing as she crouched on the floor by the closet, as she sank down on the big vibrator, as the buzzing shaft was forced deeper and deeper....
She grunted and cried out in swift ecstasy, and fucked the cool plastic device with intense, last-chance desperation.
She didn't hear the creak of the hallway floorboard. She didn't see the doorknob turn. She didn't know Tommy was listening as she skewered herself on the humming, sizzling, artificial cock.
But her door was locked. And that night was the last night it was locked.
CHAPTER EIGHT
The following Monday morning, around nine-thirty, long after Tommy had gone to school, Helen lay in her big bed unwilling to get up.
She had told Tommy, when he had knocked and called through the door, that she had a slight fever ... that ache-all-over feeling.
It had been a lie, an avoidance.
Tommy had made his own breakfast, packed his own lunch, and considerately brought her a mug of hot, steamy lemon tea, very sweet, just the way she liked it.
Then he had left, the perfect son.
And she had lain in bed for over an hour and a half, now, retreating from life, from decisions. She wanted to burrow under the warm covers and curl up like a baby and never move again.
But she had to go to the bathroom. And she was hungry....
As Helen was sliding a sunny-side up egg from the Teflon-coated frying pan a half-hour later, the front door chimes sounded.
She peeked out the dining room window and saw a new station wagon parked at the curb. She couldn't see who was at the door. Two big, decorative shrubs blocked her view of the porch.
She made a face and went to the door.
It was the vacuum cleaner salesman-she couldn't even remember his name!-and another young man, beefier, mustached. Both had what she instantly evaluated as "shit-eating" grins. She understood immediately, before a word was said, that the first had told the second about her-and both were here for sex.
She couldn't accept the images that flashed through her mind. She wasn't that kind of woman! Better to turn to Tommy than be known in an ever widening circle of men as an easy lay, a hot piece, an everything-goes girl....
NO! She couldn't go that route.
Even as the first young man was opening his mouth Helen was making her decision and beginning to slam shut the door.
"Little lady-" The door blocked his following word.
Helen turned and leaned against the solid oak door. She was proud of herself. Except, deep down, she knew she had made a decision to turn to her son ... to Tommy ... to that magnificent nine-inch cock....
She shook her head violently. But the leaden weight of fear lurked in her belly as she returned to the kitchen.
It would happen. Soon ... soon....
It happened two nights later. The first major crack in her resistance ... the first giant step toward what she really wanted.
She couldn't sleep. Her mind was a swamp of sex images and desires. Tommy's erect cock ... the deliciously exciting and terrifying feel of his hand on her breast ... his total nakedness ... his grin....
She mauled the king-size pillow for the dozenth time. She twisted and turned restlessly under the covers.
Helen resisted the impulses of her slippery hot cunt. She tried to ignore the itchy hints from her puffed nipples.
She fulfilled all the obligations of denial, then she uttered a tiny moan of surrender, threw the covers from her heated body, and left the bed.
She put on a robe over her pajamas. She took the treasured photo of Tommy's monster cock-the one she had found in his shirt only a few weeks ago-and went down the hall to the bathroom.
She hummed to herself as she showered again, and powdered her body, and added dabs of cologne here ... here ... there....
She smiled happily as she went on tiptoe to examine her full face in the mirror, and as she touched up her short blonde hair with a comb and some spray.
But she could never have admitted consciously why she was humming and smiling.
She was, she told herself, only going into Tommy's room to question him severely about the awful significance of the photo. It was her duty as his mother, now that George was gone.
It didn't matter that it was past midnight. She had put this off too long!
She tucked the incriminating, dog-eared photo into her robe pocket. She entered the hallway and turned to Tommy's door.
It was ajar. Helen frowned slightly at that. But she pushed it gently, silently, open and entered the small bedroom.
There was enough light from the street light sifting through a tree beside the house for Helen to see that Tommy was lying, naked, on top of the covers.
It wasn't quite warm enough-early October-to do without at least a single blanket. Unless ... unless he was feigning sleep, and had suspected she would be coming to him.
Helen's phony motive melted away. She almost turned and fled to her own bedroom.
But Tommy sighed and turned over onto his back. His big genitals came into view. His long, fat cock lay angled across his left hip. The skin enclosed the glans like a protective, white cowl.
His testicles were proportionately large in their slightly wrinkled sack.
In the dim light, as her eyes adjusted, Helen thought she saw his testicles stir minutely, as if they, too, were restless in sleep.
She stood, barely breathing, drinking in the sight of her son's strong, lean, flawless, nakedness. He reminded her of a Greek statue ... a classic god....
Tommy's breathing altered. His eyes flickered and opened. He saw her.
He didn't move a muscle. After a few seconds, he said softly, "Hi, mom." .
She had almost bolted when his eyes opened. Helen swallowed, licked her lips and managed, "I-I have to talk with you."
"Sure." He rubbed his eyes and yawned. He rose up on his elbows. He didn't try to hide his cock. There it lay across his hip, a fat white snake that drew her eyes continually.
Tommy patted the bed. "Sit on the bed beside me."
"Oh, no! I'll just...." She sat on the edge, facing him, twisted slightly, uncomfortably. She tried desperately not to keep glancing at his cock. Was it growing? Wasn't it stirring?
He waited a few lone seconds. "What are we supposed to talk about?"
"Oh ... Honey, I ... I found " Helen drew the photo from her pocket. "I found this in one of your shirts a few weeks ago-in the wash-I was-I always check the pockets before I throw clothes into the washer...."
Her hand shook in the darkness. "It's an obscene picture of your-of you. With someone...." She was botching it. Stammering, choking, breathing too fast, frightened.
"Let me see." Tommy reached over his head to turn on the reading light.
Helen said impulsively, desperately, "No! Don't-I only want to talk about it ... in the dark, please. It's better this way. It's easier."
"Okay. I think I know which picture you've got. I thought I'd lost it. I'm sure glad you found it; it's a kind of private thing."
"Yes, I can imagine! Taking pictures like that! I just don't understand why, Tommy? Why ... why do you want to m-mess around with those ... with girls that way?"
"I told you, mom. I'm stuck with this big dong and I've got a strong sex drive. Sex is fun. So we have fun."
"But taking pictures-"
"We were just fooling around. Annette got a Polaroid for her birthday, and Barb got the film-same birthday, natch-and so we played like we were making porno pics and films."
Helen didn't know what else to say. Preach a little sermon on sex morality?
Her gaze drifted back to his cock. Dear God-it was creeping, hardening, growing longer and longer, like a giant, stiffening worm emerging from its sheath of skin....The glans nosed forward from the prepuce, like a purplish head....The shaft seemed to thicken, and as it finned, it moved up his belly, angling in small jerks to point like a ponderous club of gristle and flesh at his head. The glans inched forward till it touched his recessed belly-button cavity. Then it throbbed with the beat of his strong young heart, and it stirred and began to lift its bulk from his belly. Each throb bobbed it higher.
Helen watched this progression as if hypnotized. Her mouth was partly open, her eyes wide, pupils dilated to absorb the faint light in the room.
Tommy observed her fascination. He whispered. "You see? It needs to be taken care of again."
Helen made a small, inarticulate sound. Her throat worked. Her right hand curled and gripped the bedding.
He whispered, "Would you help me, mom? It aches worse and worse and stays hard like that for hours and hours ... until it's satisfied."
She turned her head. She met his gaze in the darkness. "I-I couldn't...."
"Just hold it. Please. Just hold it for a minute."
Helen knew what was happening. She knew and couldn't resist. She said, "It won't do you any good," as she uncurled her right hand and reached ... to touch him with trembling fingertips.
His cock was so warm! She watched as her fingers trailed along the length of the shaft, then curled under to hold the middle of the jerking throbbing monster.
Her thumb moved to grasp ... her fingers tightened a bit ... and she discovered his cock was so thick and hard she couldn't get her fingers and thumb to meet.
A funny, hollow sensation opened up in her belly and guts. And the lust made her cunt into a boiling, slippery pit.
Unbidden, Helen lifted the cock from his belly. Ahhh ... It was so tall and stiff! She held it in the middle and there was room above and below for her other hand. In the darkness the glans was purplish-very like a plum-luring her mouth.
She found herself skating her grip up until she could feel the satiny smoothness of the glans with her thumb and fingertips. She ran her thumb over the opening and felt the slippery dew that now was slowly accumulating.
She released the huge cock and it fell stiffly to his belly, making a smack sound, then bouncing to wobble an inch in the air.
She grasped it again, more easily, more willingly, and lifted it till it stood vertically from his loins.
It felt good in her hand. It was entirely natural that she begin moving the skin up and down-slowly-to observe the way the glans was hooded and uncovered and hooded....
Tommy intruded into her reverie by whispering, "That feels great."
Helen stopped, confused, ashamed. "This isn't right. I can't...." But she didn't let go.
"Please, mom. I need it. Do it for me. Please."
She started to speak, stopped, frowned. She closed her eyes and began to move her hand up and down again. She promised herself, just this once!
She pumped his cock swiftly. Long sweeps up and down, gripping just hard enough to move the skin, thumping the heel of her hand on his blond, fuzzed pubic bone, then up till the cowl of skin pouted over the glans....
Helen heard the slap of her hand at the base of his cock, heard Tommy's deeper, faster breathing, heard her own open-mouthed gasps.
She loved the feel of his cock in her hand. The marvelous thickness and length and heat and-somehow-the feel of power in it.
She felt herself a slave to his cock ... willing to serve it, worship it ... and a slave to her cunt, too, willing-more and more willing-to obey its dictates, its whims.
She was a sexual tool-used by sex organs. She was reaching the point where her resistance was almost gone. It was only a question of time. Soon she would be grunting like a pig, wallowing in obscene, taboo sex with her own son, grunting as he plunged this huge cock deep into her cunt She whined as the image in her mind caused a flare of lust in her guts. She wanted to give in now ... open her eyes and open her robe and open her legs Tommy was close. He whispered, "Oh, mom ... I'm almost ... ready...."
Helen reached into the other pocket of her robe and brought out a handkerchief. She continued pumping with her right arm. She answered, "I know, honey. Go ahead. Let it come."
She opened her eyes to the darkness of the bedroom and could see all that she wanted to see. Tommy was lying rigid, thighs and washboard belly tense. His eyes were locked on his cock and her flying, whipping hand.
His giant cock was rock hard, vibrant, ready....
She fought an urge to turn her body a bit more, lean over and kiss the tip of his glans, to cover the head with her lips, to drink his semen as it spurted She gritted her teeth. NO! She couldn't do that ... yet. It would happen, but ... not ... yet! Tommy's breath became rough, catchy-Helen felt the first strong pulse as his internal organs contracted powerfully in orgasm and jetted a clot of thick white semen up the shaft-She was surprised at the plume of come that shot into the air. It was like a geyser. Simultaneously, Tommy hissed and jerked with the intense pleasure.
The first gob of semen fell on his upper chest. That was lucky. She would have hated to have had it soil the rather expensive plaid bedspread-only a few months old.
In quick succession other spurts followed. She kept his cock almost vertical, angled slightly toward his belly, and she pumped as hard as she could, wanting him to have the most pleasure possible, this way.
Tommy writhed and jerked. After a few seconds he gasped, "Okay ... stop. Shit, stop!"
She stopped. She continued holding his cock upright. Semen dripped from her fingers. She was astonished at the amount he had ejaculated. The smell of semen was strong.
She whispered admiringly, "Honey, you're quite a potent man."
He took a deep breath. "Yeah. Wow. That was terrific. You can really give a great hand-job, mom." He grinned in the darkness.
"Thank you." She felt good. Happy, Ridiculously happy. It wasn't right. She let his softening cock flop to his belly. She wiped her hand, then began carefully wiping his chest, belly and finally, his fat, spongy cock. It was still huge, but rather limp.
Helen gingerly put the damp, swampy handkerchief back into her robe pocket. She'd throw it in the wash as soon as she left his room.
She tensed as Tommy put his big hand on her thigh. "Hey, Mom ... I know you get horny, too. Let me do something for you." He squeezed gently. He reached for her arm and urged her toward him. "Lay down and let's see-"
"NO!" She recoiled and lurched to her feet beside the bed. She felt a drop of secretion from her juicy cunt trickle down the inside of her thigh. She said in a trembly voice, "It can't go any farther than it has."
But her tone lacked conviction. They both knew it. Tommy said wheedlingly, "Aw, mom, come on-"
Helen shook her head. She backed away, turned, and fled his room.
CHAPTER NINE
The next morning, as Helen was at the stove, frying Tommy three eggs and sausages, he came up behind her and kissed her on the nape of her neck. "Hi, mom."
A hot shiver raced through her. She flushed. She didn't turn. "Morning, honey. Sit down and start your toast."
She could barely talk to him during breakfast. During the day her mind was filled with the memory of what she had done for him the night before. She indulged in heavy erotic fantasies which caused her to sprawl in the big recliner and masturbate till she thought her clitoris was going to explode.
She knew in her guts-dreading, anticipating-that it was only a matter of time ... days at the most ... before either he started something again, or she did. And it would go farther than just her masturbating him.
That night she was disappointed when nothing happened. Tommy studied hard and went to bed early.
Was he waiting for her to come to him again?
Helen stewed with simmering lust, but kept herself from entering his room.
And the next morning he brushed against her in the hallway....Somehow his hand caressed her hip and slid over her buttocks, sliding the nubby cotton of her short skirt over her panties.
And when he kissed her neck again, briefly, as she stood at the sink, she went weak and hot as he pressed the long bulge of a tremendous erection against her rump. In spite of herself, she returned the pressure for an instant.
She knew it would be that night. The next step. The next yielding on the road to out-and-out, full-fledged incest!
But she had other problems. After Tommy went to school, Helen sat at the breakfast table, sipping coffee, going through the morning paper's Help Wanted ads.
Her savings and the insurance money were almost exhausted. Another month or two and they'd be on welfare. She had to get a job.
She had done office work in her late teens ... some typing and simple bookkeeping ... receptionist. She thought she could probably get something like that again. But would the salary be enough to support her and Tommy? Would it pay the taxes and the insurance premiums on the house, the car, her life policy, his policy, the health policies? Would it pay for the oil, the electricity, the sewer charges ... the phone?
God! It cost so damned much to live! Just to keep your head above water.
She resolved to seriously look for work the coming Monday.
And in the meantime. ... She couldn't wait for evening. Tonight. Tonight. Tonight!
That evening she pretended to herself and to Tommy that nothing was going to happen. But there was electricity-lust-in the air.
He went to bed around ten-thirty. She waited until after the eleven o'clock news. Then she went into her bedroom, undressed, looked at her naked body in the mirror.
She licked her lips and studied her face. She cupped her small breasts and tweaked her large nipples to make them larger and more red. She considered the thin fur of blonde on her mound, it wasn't a triangle ... more like a strip, with fuzzy borders, with the pink-lipped slit in the lower middle.
Helen decided she looked pretty good for an old broad of thirty-four.
She dabbed perfume in special places. He hesitated as she reached into a drawer for fresh pajamas. She blinked fast. She withdrew her hand and pulled open another drawer. She slipped on a pair of sheer black panties.
She slipped on her usual robe and felt deliciously semi naked under it. Her nipples refused to soften; they grazed against the cloth and sent tingles through her.
As she left her bedroom and walked down the short hallway to Tommy's room, Helen felt a delicious terror, and her cunt was squishy-hot inside.
His door was ajar. Was he waiting for her? She slipped inside. Tommy lay naked on his bed again, but this time he was awake, with his hands locked under his head.
He waited till she had eased the door shut behind her-as if to keep out a ghost?-and was almost to the bed before he said quietly, "Hi, Mom."
Her heart was squeezing, fluttering. She sat on the edge of the bed as before. She licked dry lips. Her mouth felt cottony. "Tommy ... Tommy ... we have to talk about...."
As before her eyes were drawn to his huge cock. Soft now, but as if responding to her nearness, beginning the incredible surge of growth ... thickening....
"We don't have to talk about anything, Mom." Tommy sat up and took her by the shoulders. He gently but firmly turned her and guided her to lie beside him.
She ignored what he had done. She was lying flat on her back, and now Tommy was shifting, moving to lie on his side, facing her.
She said, faltering, "Yes, we have to talk about your future. We have money problems, fa-honey. I'm going to have to get a job very soon. It's starting to look like you won't be going to college ... unless it's at the city college, and you live here."
"Yeah, but that's years away yet."
"To you it's a long time. To me it's just around the comer, and we have to recognize "
He reached over and untied the sash of her robe. One tug and the cinched tightness was gone. She couldn't stop him from lifting open her robe and seeing her naked breasts in the faint light from the street light. His room was a mass of bulky shadows, dark-on-black, except where that distant comer street light sent a moon-like radiance onto the bed-onto her body.
Tommy had sense enough not to speak.
Helen began to tremble. She breathed fast. She tried to continue. "We have to think about what you want to do with your life. Some practical career."
Tommy hesitated. Finally he carefully placed his large hand on her belly.
Helen gasped. She closed her eyes. Her belly went taut, knotted ... then slowly relaxed.
He shifted slightly and his now rigid, massive cock fell against Helen's left wrist. She gasped but did not move her arm.
He said, "Take it in your hand, Mom. Play with it."
She clenched her eyes tighter shut. "H-honey, don't make me....
It was a ritual, a game, a playing out of a script. She wanted it all to happen, but first-certain formalities of appearances and resistances had to be observed.
"C'mon, Mom, please. I need it." He gently slid his hand off her belly to her left hand. He lifted her hand and placed it on his cock.
Her fingers slowly closed on the hot, thick shaft.
His hand returned to her belly, to begin a caressing, inching creep toward her breasts. It was not far.
Her fingers inched along his long cock to the glans. She tapped the silky head with fingertips, as if sounding for flaws. She found a drop of secretion at the tip and smeared it in circles ... slippery circles ... and danced a fingertip into the sensitive "drawstring" area on the underside of the glans.
She had learned this sexual know-how from her dead husband. He'd taught her, trained her, to be a superlative lover ... and now she was using some of her skills and knowledge on their son!
Helen moaned very softly when Tommy's hand reached her breasts. She felt her right breast covered completely, engulfed by his warm palm and fingers ... felt him squeeze gently, mold the flesh, make it a cone, felt him bring his fingers together to imprison the hardened, tingling nipple.
As she played with his giant cock, he played with her breasts, especially with her popcorn nipples. He seemed fascinated with them.
She began a long, slow, gentle pumping of his cock.
Tommy lowered his head and licked first one nipple, then the other. Helen sighed with pleasure and despair. Soon there could be no excuses, no lying explanations, no adroit maneuverings of knowing. Soon his actions and her actions....
Tommy sucked a nipple into his mouth. His tongue lashed the crinkled, puffed little knob of flesh. She hissed quietly as he grazed the sensitive tissues with his teeth. A familiar heat was in her breasts, a glow. And it was sending hot, urgent messages to her deep cunt.
She squeezed his rigid cock a bit more, and pumped a bit faster. She asked herself, Is this foreplay? Will he want more than masturbation? Can I let him fuck me? Tonight? So soon? Tommy's hand had lain quiet on her belly as he suckled on her breasts. Now his fingertips edged under the waistband of her panties.
Helen moaned again. She crossed her ankles and tensed her thighs in symbolic defense. But as his fingers edged lower, as his palm pressed firmly lower, as his fingertips touched the top of her fuzzed mound....
Her legs uncrossed. Her thighs parted. Her breath came faster. She kept her eyes closed. Her hand gripped his cock and began to pump still faster. She wasn't aware of her left arm's movements.
His hand was completely inside her panties. His fingers played in her blonde curls....When his middle finger reached the top of her juicy slit, Helen gasped, "No, Tommy, don't." She didn't want him to discover how aroused she was ... how passionate she could be ... how much he turned her on. She could say the no words, but couldn't stop his hand, couldn't leave.
Tommy said, "Aw, mom, you need this as much as I do. Enjoy it. Let yourself enjoy it."
Her silence was answer enough. He slid his finger down till it pressed into the wet lips of her cunt, into the heated, slippery gorge.
His mouth came to her nipples again as his finger worked lower....
Helen held her breath, then gasped as he touched her clitoris. It had never been so sensitive! Sparkles of sensation! Her hips undulated reflexively.
It was a tip-off. She flushed in the darkness as Tommy made an "Um-hmm!" sound of understanding as he suckled.
She abandoned herself to the pleasure. She rationalized this wasn't really incest. Incest was sexual intercourse with a son or daughter or father....It wouldn't be a terrible thing until she let Tummy fuck her. Fuck her ... Until....
Her left arm continued its swift movement. Her left hand gripped and tightened on the thick shaft of his cock.
And now her right hand crept up and caressed Tommy's naked back. She opened her thighs further. She kissed the top of his head as he lipped her breasts.
His finger was exploring the hot, hard, pebble-like clitoris. Around and around, over and around, back and forth ... skating on a coating of slippery juices.
Helen was astonished and embarrassed as the pleasure intensified dramatically. Her belly quaked. She couldn't stop herself from panting and trembling. She pumped his cock as if to bring him off with her.
Tommy lifted his mouth from a nipple. "Don't, Mom. I don't want to squirt yet."
She released his cock. Then she took it in hand again. She whispered, "I just want to hold it."
Then she sank into a lovely ocean of sparkling pleasure. His fingertip rolled her clit, slithered on it, eeled over it.
She climaxed! She panted and moaned and held onto his giant cock as if it could keep her from blowing away in the gale of rapture.
As her loins quieted to a bubbling, simmering pool of lava, as her heart slowed, Helen whispered gratefully, "Thank you, honey."
Tommy said, in the darkness, "That was only for starters. You know what comes next, Mom." His finger and hand slid lower ... straining the crotch of her panties ... and found the entrance of her deep, hot vagina. He sank the finger into her. His voice shook and broke as he said, "I want to ... to do it ... go all the way."
"No, honey. No! We can't. It's too-"
"I'll be careful. I won't try to put it all in."
"No, I mean ... I can't go that far with you. Not ... yet."
"I want to so bad, mom. You're so nice. You really do things to me....You're all worked up, too "
God, she wanted it! To feel this huge cock filling her cunt! How could she refuse him? What could she do?
"Please, Mom! Let me!"
"Oh, Tommy...."
"You'll like it. It's been a long time since-"
"No, honey. I can't let you. But ... I'll do something for you."
"I don't want a hand-job again."
Helen licked her lips. "No. I mean something very nice. Almost as good as what you want."
"You want to go down on me?"
Helen shivered. Here she lay in her fifteen-year-old son's bed, with his finger in her cunt, letting him kiss her nipples, and she was offering to suck him off!
Was that less an evil than letting him fuck her?
Less a perversion?
Less an abomination?
She closed her eyes. She couldn't pretend any longer. If there was a God, she was doomed to hell. She loved the way his finger was moving in her. She loved the feel of his cock in her hand. She wanted to suck him off.
-Helen whispered, "Honey, yes, I want to let you do it, but there's something in me which won't let me do it. Maybe ... maybe another time. Now, I ... I do want to satisfy you. By mouth."
Her words seemed to hang in the dark room. By mouth.
Tommy was enthusiastic. "Sure! That's okay with me. That's great." He settled down onto his back. His hand left her center. He waited expectantly.
The dread was strong in her guts again. She had to sit up and do it to him ... in the pool of dim light from the street. He would watch her.
She couldn't do it that way. Not the first time, that way. "Tommy, promise you'll keep your eyes closed. I don't want you to see me ... see me do it."
"That's weird." He shrugged. "Okay. Boy, some adults are strange."
"I can't help it"
"Maybe you should ask God to close his eyes, too."
Helen felt a chill. "No. He sees everything. Everything. I know that." She lay staring up at the ceiling for a few more seconds, then sighed and obeyed her lusts.
She sat up and turned and nestled herself between her son's strong, lean legs. She knelt like a worshipper before an altar. Her hands reverently held his huge cock upright. She cupped his sack with one hand and felt the small stirrings inside. She kept her eyes closed, too. She didn't know if Tommy was keeping his promise.
Helen licked her lips compulsively and lowered her head for the first taking. ... Her heart was thudding. Her cunt wanted this lovely monster for itself. But it would have to wait.
She licked the heart-shaped glans. There was more secretion at the tip. She licked in a circle and then finally, willingly, kissed the glans lightly ... again ... and more lingeringly ... and spread her lips over it ... and with a small moan took the glans into her mouth.
It was beginning.
She took it deep into her mouth and swirled her tongue over the sensitive triangle on the underside of the head.
She was rewarded by a tightening of Tommy's thigh muscles and a muffled grunt of pleasure. She shivered with joy in her mind and sucked more fervently.
She tried all the techniques George had taught her. She earned gasps and moans from her son. "Wow, Mom, you're fantastic!"
She immersed herself in the act of sucking his magnificent nine-inch cock. Gradually she became ever more passionate, ever more involved in "reading" his minute reactions, in pleasing him, in giving ever more exquisite combinations of sensations.
And finally she began to show off, to take his big glans and thickness deeper and deeper, to the back of her throat....
Up and down, up and down, like a machine, but with twists, with complicated tongue work. Eyes closed, still. Her breasts hanging, nipples grazing the rumpled folds of the blanket....
Helen loved it. Sucking was the most intimate of sexual acts. She played upon the rigid organ as a musician.
She edged her left hand onto Tommy's belly, to better gauge his arousal. She felt the tension there, the ridged muscles. She knew the special thrumming quality of the blood in the huge cock, that gave it the vibrancy of the state of an approaching climax.
Tommy was getting close. It was time to go the whole way in her sucking.
She shifted to a different position as she continued to suckle on the glans and four inches of shaft. She shifted sideways, across his left leg, to his side, moving in an arc, until she was crouched beside his hip, facing toward his right thigh ... angled now so that she could use her ultimate technique-the "deep throat."
It would be a challenge. Tommy's tremendous cock was about two inches longer than George's had been, and much thicker.
But she wanted to try it. She wanted to give Tommy the ultimate thrill of oral sex, and she wanted to be the first woman to do it for him. She knew not many were capable of doing it, but she knew that he would be very sexually active all his life, and this incredible cock would be come known ... would draw woman....
She held it with both hands in a "stack" grip, and began a strong sucking of the three inches that towered above her fingers.
Then she slowly released the grip of her top hand. Slowly, she let that hand slip down over the other, giving more and more cock to her engulfing mouth.
The glans touched her uvula and triggered the gag reflex. She let her throat spasm as it had to; she sucked air at the top of her sucking stroke. She knew how much George had liked that spasming sensation around the head of his cock.
Now Tommy knew it, for perhaps the first time. His belly rippled. His hips lifted. "Oh, wow, Mom ... oh...."
She thrilled. She forced her head forward ... forced the thick bulk of his cock deeper into her throat ... the glans was constricted and massaged by the flexing, rippling tunnel of wet membrane and underling muscles.
She was taking six inches of thick cock. Her jaw ached a bit from the constant wide-open extension.
More. More! She took her other hand from the base of his straining, vibrant organ, and dug both hands under his hips.
She felt his cock bulging out her throat. It was like trying to swallow a baseball bat. It hurt. But she surged up and down on the huge club of flesh and gristle and blood and her lips kissed, encompassed, lower and lower....
Tommy was gasping, shaking. "Mom-mom-mom-"
He had to be watching. She didn't care now. She was lost to all morality now, all inhibitions. Her own eyes flew open and saw in the darkness, saw his scrotum only an inch or two from her nose. She went cross-eyed to see it.
At last her lips tasted the fringe of his curly pubic hair. Her nose pressed into his sack. Her mouth and throat were a total, spasming sleeve for his monster cock.
She'd done it! It felt like his glans was almost into her stomach!
She drew back, her lungs burning for air. She gave up all but the glans. She drew deep, hungry breathes through her nose. She knew in the next minute he was going to come. She would make him come-deep in her throat.
Helen gripped his hips and pushed her head forward and down-driving his cock deep into her throat. She rocked back and forth, using her throat as a cunt.
Tommy's hips began to buck, to fuck her throat. She dug her fingers further under his hips, to the flexing muscles of his ass. She urged him on.
His giant cock seemed to swell in her throat and mouth, to expand-He hissed and grunted. A great spasm rippled his body. His cock seemed to leap further down her gullet. It jerked, throbbed, and a thick jet of semen splashed into her stomach.
Helen sobbed with delight around the great, driving shaft. She lifted her head and plunged to meet his thrusting loins.
Gobs of semen poured down her throat. She had to be careful not to try to breathe; she had nearly choked and strangled one time with George, as the stuff had been drawn into her windpipe.
Tommy was openly shouting his agony of pleasure, half-words, groans, cries....His hips whipped up and down....
And then, too quickly, it was over. She knew when his pleasure faded and acute sensitivity-near pain-replaced it.
She eased back and suckled briefly on the satiny glans, draining the last drops from him, for the first time tasting his semen, most of it having gushed in her throat beyond her tongue and taste buds.
She loved the salty, sweet raw taste.
Her throat felt as if it had been raped.
Tommy was incredulous at what she had done. "I didn't believe it. ... Man, what a way to take a guy! That was out of sight! I'll bet there isn't another girl in the whole world could take me like that!" .
Helen was proud. She cuddled against his chest and shoulder. He held her close with his arm. She felt happy and content-and curdled with self-loathing, with shame.
It would happen again, she knew. How could she refuse him? How could she refuse her own desires?
She cuddled against his strength and warmth and held his softening cock in her left hand, gently kneading it, caressing....
Tommy touched her left breast and began playing with it, with the stone-hard nipple. He said confidently, "Keep on playing with me like that and I'll be hard again in a couple minutes. Then I'll give you some satisfaction down where it counts."
Something froze in her. "No. Not that. I told you no."
"Geez, why not? Screwing isn't as bad as doing what you just did, is it?"
"I said no, Tommy. Not ... not tonight." She disengaged herself from his arm and loosed his cock. She left his bed. She said lamely, "We can't ... we can't have an orgy."
"You're weird, Mom."
"I know. I'm lots of things." She drew her robe around her and tied the sash. "Goodnight, honey." She went to his door.
He called after her, "Next time I'm going to screw you."
She went weak as she closed his door. Yes. No! T can't let it go any farther! A tiny, cynical voice in her mind snickered and whispered, Try and stop it. It's inevitable.
CHAPTER TEN
Helen tried to break free.
Two nights later she put on a short blue dress, wore sheer pantyhose ... one of her last two pair ... matching blue shoes, a single strand of imitation pearls, her best watch, her most striking set of earrings: long silver dangling chains with clusters of tiny roses at the ends.
And she drove the Pinto to a respectable singles dance party at a big, plush restaurant-motel complex by the river shopping center.
She was instantly popular, being easily the most attractive woman there. But she soon learned the most aggressive men were make-out artists, and the shy ones were flawed in other ways.
She didn't want just a man for the night, not just for sex to satisfy her continuing need. She wanted to meet a man who might measure up to George, who might be marriage material.
She danced a lot of dances, fenced a lot of propositions, judged a lot of men by dress, talk, manner, physical type, occupation.
Harvey Weaver seemed the best of the lot. He was thirty-nine, tall, a bit paunchy and a bit bald, but he danced very well and was securely employed as a high school teacher of mathematics. He did not teach in Tommy's school.
He was initially shy, but became aggressive enough when she smiled, laughed at his small jokes, and shared his liberal political philosophy.
He invited her to his apartment for a drink. Helen accepted. He laughed, surprised. "Fine!" Yet he changed subtly when they entered his modem one-bedroom quarters in a new, two-story, pool-in-the-court building.
As he took her coat he said, "Don't mind the artificial flowers. My mother brings them over. She's a compulsive decorator."
He led her to an expensive stereo receiver-with an improbable vase of orange plastic flowers sitting on it. "Tune whichever station you want. What do you drink?"
"Oh ... vodka and orange juice, if you have it."
"Got it!" He went to a small, leatherette-covered bar in a comer.
Helen punched on the stereo and found a string medley. She noted he had the loudness control pushed in. There were two very good speakers in two corners of the room. The sound was clear and pure.
But each speaker had a vase of artificial flowers on it.
Harvey came with the drinks. Hers was a strong one-about half and half. They sipped for a moment, enjoying the music. They sat side by side in an overstuffed seven-foot sofa.
The coffee table held ashtrays in the shapes of Siamese cats ... and the inevitable vase full of plastic leaves and flowers.
Harvey gazed at her, eyes searching her face, hair. He said happily, "You do look a lot like my mother."
"You don't look a bit like mine."
He laughed. "No, you really do."
Helen stood up with her drink. "Show me the rest of the apartment."
"Oh, sure. Not much to see...."
The kitchen was clean and modem-with a decorative ceramic pot on the wall with wide green plastic leaves carefully arranged to frame the inscription: "No Matter Where I Serve My Guests, It Seems They Like My Kitchen Best." The bathroom had a pair of artificial birds clipped to the plastic window curtains.
The bedroom had a velvet bird cage hanging from a wall, complete with bird. The bedspread was frilly and flowery, as were the framed pictures on the walls.
Helen was not sure coming here was a good idea. She sat on the bed and drank half her drink quickly. She was beginning to feel loose and giggly. Her legs began to go slightly numb.
Harvey flicked off the bedroom overhead light and came to sit beside her in the dimness. A glow entered the bedroom from the hall.
He stroked her hair. "I like small women."
"Why?" She finished her drink. She wasn't willing to give up on him yet. She dared not give up. All that would be left was Tommy ... waiting back at the house ... waiting to claim her ... waiting to fuck her!
Harvey hesitated, then said, "I guess because small women seem child-like to me. It's easier for me to feel big and strong." He laughed.
Helen smiled. "That's honest." She put her glass on the carpet and stretched out on the bed. She giggled. "Want me to call Daddy?"
"That's a low blow." He wasn't offended.
Helen giggled and bit her tongue to keep from saying something funny and obscene. She didn't want to shock the man. His mommy wouldn't approve.
Harvey put his unfinished drink on the floor and leaned over to kiss her.
His lips were still wet and cold from his last sip. But Helen wrapped her arms loosely around him and opened her mouth for whatever he wanted to do. She arched her back and pressed her breasts against his side and chest.
Harvey went a bit wild. He sent his tongue into her mouth as far as he could. He was abruptly all hands; his fingers closed over her breasts, and then, detecting her natural form bra, roamed lower to her legs and pressed up between her thighs, to find the layered crotch of the pantyhose. The triangle was warm and damp.
He broke the deep, sloppy kiss and said, "I hate clothes."
"Me too." She unbuttoned the top of his sports shirt and pulled his leisure suit jacket halfway off his shoulders. "Why don't we do something about it?"
He seemed surprised at her boldness. "Sure!" They undressed each other in true romantic tradition. When he opened her flimsy bra and eased it from her small, pert breasts, Helen couldn't help half-drunkenly asking, "Are they like your mother's?"
"I don't...." He chuckled. He guided her hand into his boxer shorts. "Is this like your dad's?" Helen obligingly, curiously, groped his cock. She found him hard ... but woefully short. Her fingers told her he was only about five inches. Maybe less.
She was disappointed. A funny ache-the terror-returned to her guts. Harvey couldn't take the place of....
Her disappointment and fear made her blurt, "Now I know why you like small women."
Harvey didn't answer immediately. He began tugging her pantyhose down off her slender hips. He finally said wryly, "When they were giving out cocks I thought they said 'rocks' and asked for a small hard one."
Helen giggled. One drink and she was loopy! "I'm sorry. That was a-"
"Low blow."
They both laughed. He kissed her and fondled her naked breasts. He whispered, "Now that you've brought it up ... you're right."
"I'm sorry."
"You're sorry!"
They dissolved into laughter again. Harvey touched her slit with a curious finger and found her hot and slippery. "Feels like you're all ready."
She found his cock again with her hand and lightly explored along its throbbing, middle-finger size. "Feels like you're ready, too." There was a drop of secretion at the small tip and she smeared it over the thumb-size glans.
He came over her. "Oh, Helen...."
She reached between and guided him to her waiting, gaping cunt. It was like slipping a .22 shell into a .45 chamber.
He pressed in as far as he could. She tried to clench her vagina. She knew she wasn't tight for him. Not after so many years of taking George's fat seven inches. Not after the cucumbers ... and that long, thick artificial cock. She could barely feel him inside.
Harvey pumped in her for a minute, then stopped. He said, "I don't get much sensation." Helen made the mistake of saying, "Neither do I."
He pulled out and away from her. "I'm really getting sick and tired of your digs about my size. It gets pretty damn tiresome."
I'm sorry, Harvey." She was disgusted with herself.
"Yeah. If I may be permitted one in return, your husband must have been hung like a mule."
"I guess he was. I guess I got used to it."
"I suppose I should find a virgin to get a tight fit, hmm? Avoid any girl over thirteen?"
Helen said gently, "Size isn't important, except to a very few women. I'm one of those few."
"I seem to have a talent for picking them." Helen waited. He didn't move. Finally she asked, "Do you want to get dressed?"
"No ... do you want me to go down on you?" She said honestly, "Yes."
"Good, because I know I can make you feel my tongue. I'm pretty good at it."
Helen relaxed and drew her dress up. She let her thighs fall open loosely as he shifted into the eating position. His arms hugged her slender thighs. He rubbed his cheeks against their smooth, velvety inner surfaces, up near her crotch.
He kissed the moist lips of her vulva. He licked at the slippery juices. He murmured, "You do get aroused . .
"I've been awakened if that's what you mean."
"Ummm." He pressed his mouth to her slit and sent his tongue fluttering inward. He knew female anatomy. His tongue-tip discovered her firm, protuberant clitoris immediately. He knew what to do for it.
Helen caressed his head as he delightfully licked and licked and licked. ... She breathed and moved restlessly. The sparkles of sensation became a fire of pleasure.
Her fingers began to dig into his scalp. Her belly surged and rippled. Her hips rocked her cunt against his clinging mouth. Heartfelt "Oh!"s came from her throat.
Helen loved his tongue. He was so good at this! If only he had a big cock. If only....
She spasmed helplessly seconds later. Her cunt bucked against his face. She wailed and thrashed. She threw her arms wide and clawed the bedspread.
When the ecstasy had receded to diminishing aftershocks of pleasure, she gently pushed his face from her pulsing loins. "That's ... enough."
Harvey sighed and worked his jaw. "I don't have the stamina I should. Been months since I've had a woman ... that way."
"It's a very nice way."
"I suppose it is, with a clit that big. You're big everywhere, aren't you, except in the breast department."
"We are what we are, Harvey. We can't change ourselves, physically."
Something was eating at him. He said angrily, "There you go again! The big, stretched, well-used cunt telling the small prick to be content! Rubbing it in!"
"I wasn't-"
"Like hell you weren't!" He glowered at her. "I've had enough experience with you emasculating, man-hating bitches to know one. Always needling. Always ready with the knife. Always with the disguised sarcastic reminders."
Helen went cool and distant. "Of course. This is the scene you always end up playing with women, isn't it?" She left the bed to gather her clothes.
"Hey! What are you doing? Don't you owe me something?"
Helen paused, surprised. "What?"
"Well, what did I just do for you?"
She knew what he wanted-she was supposed to suck him off. But she said, "You showed me I'm a ball-breaking bitch, Harvey. I thank you for that." She stepped into her pantyhose as quickly as she could.
"No! I-Come on, fair's fair. You had your fun, so how about me?"
She dressed as she spoke. "What about you? You mean you want an orgasm? You want a cunt like me to touch your precious body? I'm not worthy, Harvey. No woman is. Well ... there is one woman who might be, but she's out of the question. Too old. You could never be sure even about her. She might be too loose inside, too. She-"
"SHUT UP! Get out of here!"
"Willingly. Very willingly." Helen slipped on her shoes and left the bedroom.
He didn't follow her into the living room. That was a relief. She got her purse from the floor by the sofa and slammed the door when she left his apartment.
She suspected he'd quickly snoop around the place looking to see if she'd stolen anything.
She got into her Pinto and started it up. She began to hum and sing with happiness. She stopped singing. She realized she was joyful because she was going home to Tommy. She had given this a try and it hadn't worked out. So now she was free to go to her son. Free of a large part of the guilt and fear she had carried up till now.
She had given other men a chance. Many chances! Hadn't she? Helen killed the engine.
Or had she picked the ones who would fail her? As Harvey had picked her tonight ... and she him. They had both acted out their needed scenario.
He was free now to be faithful to his dominating mother.
And she was free to go to Tommy's bed. Free to fool herself and rationalize ... and free to let him drill that wonderfully big, fat cock into her hungry cunt!
She rested her head on the neck cushion and felt tears roll down her cheeks. There was no way she could slip' the guilt for what she had done with her son. She was too intelligent and perceptive to let herself off the hook.
She knew what was going to happen. It was like fate. It was like rape. So she might as well enjoy it as much as she could!
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Yet ... it took Helen two days ... two squirmy, increasingly lust-filled nights ... before she was brought to the state of need and obsession that allowed her-that drove her-to Tommy's room.
Tommy seemed to know it was only a matter of time. In the morning, before school, in the evening before he went to bed, he smiled and gauged the haunted look in her blue eyes.
On the night that she capitulated there was a scene in the bathroom....
She knew he was taking a bath instead of a shower. The water had gushed into the tub, she had heard him oohing and ahhing as he sank into the hot water.
She was darning one of his blue socks when he called.
She went cold in her spine and hot in her cunt. There was a seductive, playful tone to his call for Mom.
Helen stood up, licked her lips, unclenched her hands, and walked into the bathroom.
Tommy was sprawled in the tub, legs open, arms on the sides, grinning up at her. Emerging from the hot, steamy water was his huge cock-in full erection-itself sprawled across his belly, the head nosing just past his belly button, the whole throbbing with the beat of his powerful young heart.
She watched it, hypnotized.
"Hey, Mom, there isn't any soap."
She knew there had been soap in the tray beside the knurled crystal plastic hot water control. "Oh. I'll get a new bar."
She backed out and went to the hall closet next to the bathroom. She took a new cake of Irish Spring from its wrapper and re-entered the bathroom. Once again his magnificent cock drew her eyes.
She had to come close to the tub to hand him the soap.
"Hey, want to wash my back?"
"No."
"Want to wash my dong?"
She hesitated just a fraction, before saying sharply, feigning shock, "Tommy!"
"Why don't you get naked and climb in here with me?"
"Tommy!"
"Oh, shit, Mom, you can drop the righteous act. Can't you be honest once in a while?"
A tremor went through her. She sank to her knees on the thick bathmat beside the tub. "Tommy, please help me. I can't resist....What we've done is wrong, and yet ... I can't stop wanting it to happen ... more and more ... until....God help me."
She sobbed into her hands.
Tommy watched her quizzically for a few seconds. "Boy, are you all screwed up in your head. All that old-fashioned morality crap. Anything that's fun you old people have to mess up with a lot of rules and regulations and don'ts. Mostly don'ts. If it feels good or tastes good or looks good or smells good, it must be wrong." He snorted. "What a screwy way to look at things." Helen lifted her head. "I'm your mother!"
"What difference does that make?"
"Where did you get this attitude? Where did you learn it?"
"Mom, I'm not stupid. I can read. I can see how messed up the world is on account of those stone-age morals everybody gets zapped into their heads when they're kids. I just don't buy it. A lot of kids don't buy it anymore."
He lifted his huge cock away from his belly. It emerged like a pillar from the water that covered his loins. He slowly moved the skin up over the head, then down. ... "You dig this, Mom, so why not have fun?"
She whispered, "There are consequences."
"I know you had your tubes tied when I was born. You and dad told me you decided one child was enough. The doctors said you were built funny inside."
Helen nodded. "Built funny" meant too small a pelvis, too small a womb--even though she had carried Tommy seven months before the pain had forced a premature caesarian-and too large a vagina, for her size. She was built for ... built for fucking and pleasure, with her big cunt, big clit and big nipples.
And now, waving his nine-inch cock under her nose, was her son, offering her what might be the greatest fuck of her life ... making it so easy, so attractive. The New Hedonism was his philosophy----Why not? Why try to fight this urge ... the pleasure life? Why not reach out....
Her left hand crept out from the side of the tub. Tommy took her hand and wrapped her fingers around his cock. He grinned. "Just like they were made for each other. No bolt of lightning, either. The world hasn't cracked in half."
She closed her eyes for a second. He was too sharp, too intelligent, too perceptive.
She kept her eyes closed for a few more seconds as her fingers relished the feel of his thick cock. So nice and hard! He wouldn't go soft at the critical moment. He wouldn't climax too soon.
She opened her eyes and watched as her hand began jacking him. The water swirled with wavelets. Her hand made a wet smacking sound as it hit his pubes. It swept up the long, fat shaft ... down ... up....The big, heart-shaped glans was covered, uncovered.....
She took her hand away.
"Aw, mom-"
"Let's not ... we don't want to waste it this way." She stood up. She avoided his eyes. The sick dread was strong in her guts. But she said, "I'll be waiting for you ... in my bed."
Helen turned and fled the bathroom.
It didn't take Tommy long to finish his bath. He dried himself hastily and padded, naked, his cock swinging like a pink and white club, into the master bedroom where Helen lay, naked, shivering, under the printed sheet and rose colored electric blanket. The bedspread was turned down at the foot of the king-size bed.
For all of his self-confidence and hedonism, Tommy was a bit scared, too. He was not completely unaffected by the morality he consciously rejected.
Helen watched him swagger across the room, his grin maybe a trifle forced. The situation was terrifying. She wanted to stop him, scream NO!, somehow deny the reality of what they were about to do.
He slipped into bed with her. He touched her.
Helen shrank and almost instantly turned toward him. She said, "Honey, turn the light out?" The lamp on the table by his side of the bed was lit. The rest of the house was dark. She had the shades lowered to the last fraction of an inch.
"Naw, let's see what we're doing. It's more fun that way." He threw the sheet and electric blanket away from their naked bodies.
"I can't!" She cringed against him to hide her breasts and loins from ... who?
"Come on, Mom! You and dad didn't do it in the dark all the time, did you?"
No, they'd done it mostly with the light on. That light on. There had been no shame, no modesty. No inhibitions. With George there had been laughter and naked play and open lust.
Helen realized she was acting like a child. Pretending to a great extent, playing a role to salve her conscience-to fool God?
It was ridiculous. She was here to be royally fucked by her son. She couldn't hide that fact. So be it. If she was damned to hell, then damned she was! She would roast screaming, for eternity, to pay for what she was about to let happen. So be it.
She rolled away from Tommy to her back. She spread her arms and her left hand fell onto his cock. The monster was three-quarters hard, bendable, about eight and a half inches long.
Tommy read her movement correctly. He spread his large hand on her belly and began a circular caress. He licked her nearest nipple till it perked like a dark red, flame-crinkled, tiny marshmallow.
Helen watched her nipple react under his tongue. The sparks were flying in her small body. Her groin simmered. His hand was working down into the hollow.
She stroked his cock; it was swiftly rigid, an awe-inspiring size. Dear God-could she take it? All she knew was her cunt hungered to be filled with it. Not just filled-engorged!
Tommy was aroused, too, in a way he had not known before. He was breathing heavily, and was restless as he suckled and touched. His cock throbbed heavily in her hand.
"Oh, Mom...." He was tremendously excited by the situation, the culmination of his campaign. His hot mouth left her nipple. He kissed the hollow of her throat....
Helen trembled and waited and hoped and feared "Mom...." His hot mouth found her lips and she shook as they kissed-As his tongue entered and touched her tongue and galvanized her to an electric, frenzied lust.
Their tongues lashed and slithered in their joined mouths. They moaned and clung together. They writhed, their naked bodies pressing, jolting, rubbing.....
Helen's mind blurred with passion. Tommy's arms were around her slender little body, claiming her, possessing her, and his giant cock was pressing its full length against her belly, a hot, thick, long monster that made her blood boil with fear and lust. Her small breasts were mashed against his hard chest. Her nipples were small ingots of bruised, sensitive tissues.
She clung and dug her fingers into his back and moaned through the incredibly arousing deep kiss. Her nostrils flared and her lungs were burning for air.
Tommy dragged his mouth from hers and gasped for air. He rolled over onto her, covered her, his weight for a moment crushing her down into the bed.
Then he was up on elbows and knees. His giant cock hung like a club and wobbled and bumped in the open gorge of her crotch.
Helen quickly reached between their bodies and grasped the thick shaft. "Let me, honey...." She was breathless and the pit of her stomach was a slimy void. She guided the big cock to her slit. She worked the glans into the slot, up and down, in her juices, getting it wet and seating it against the quivering mouth of her cunt.
She breathed, "Easy ... go in easy...."
.Tommy was shaking, too, with passion, with the emotional impact of what they were doing. He had his face pressed into the pillow. He nodded and his strong young loins pressed down Helen gasped as the big, wet, velvety head forced the lips of her vagina wide-wide ... stretched her....But it was in. And she felt defenseless against the great length and thickness yet to come.
The head and shoulders of the monster was into her now. And more ... as he pressed into her depths ... as he pulled back and then sank more inches into her hot, slippery, welcoming cunt.
Helen moaned helplessly as the invasion progressed. Her thighs drew wider and higher, allowing more penetration.
She felt full! My God, she had never had this much live cock in her before! And there was more of it to come!
The head of Tommy's giant cock was pressing against her secret spot-the rarely touched entrance to her womb, the cervix. The most sensitive area in her cunt.
It was pressing-setting up subtle pressures in her womb, awakening new sensations.
Tommy drew back, almost all the way out-and she felt empty-and then he pressed deep!
Pressed-pressed-until she thought she would rupture inside. She was engorged. He had all of it in her cunt!
She quivered and shook uncontrollably. Her cunt was stretched to its limit! Her cunt felt on fire. A sharp, pulsing, lancing pain in her belly frightened her.
He eased off and raised his head to kiss her. He was grinning, eyes bright. "I knew you could take me, Mom! I knew it!"
"Oh, Tommy, if you were a smidgen bigger you'd split me apart!"
"No, you're great. You're fantastic. What a woman!" He kissed her joyously and began simultaneously driving hard and deep.
Helen clung and kissed and fought for breath and some vestige of control over herself and him. But the great piston of his cock was ravishing her entire being. Each stroke reached to her guts and pounded that special area. Each stroke filled her all the way, drove her into the bed, made the springs sound, made the big bed quake. Each stroke sent pulses of a new kind of pleasure arching through her body. Each stroke drove her into an increasingly animal state.
Each stroke drove a sweet grunt of pleasure from her throat. Her eyes lost focus. She became pure cunt. She was nothing but cunt. Nothing but a ravished tube of sensitive flesh. Nothing but a clit that was drawn down by the inward thrusts of Tommy's monstrously big organ, drawn down to graze the slick surface of his plunging length, to sizzle and sparkle and fill her loins with heat and urgent sensations. Nothing but a cervix being sweetly battered by the surging, silky-wet glans.
Oh, God! Oh, God! Oh God! The pain and the fire was changing! She was molten inside now, as if her guts and cunt were flowing lava.
Tommy was fucking like a machine, stroking with smooth power, ending each giant thrust with a final jolting inch of penetration and shocking engorgement that stopped her breath and pushed that helpless grunt from her.
Helen gloried in it. She didn't care anymore! She ran her hands down Tommy's unblemished back to his working, rocking pelvis, to the flexing, tensing muscles of his ass and thighs. She felt the ripple of the muscles, the wonderful power, the slight sheen of sweat.
She dug her fingers into the firm globes and began to work with him. She braced her feet in the bed and thrust her cunt to meet his killing plunges.
. Oh, God, the size of him! That last golden inch! She was almost dizzy with lust! The rapture ... the rapture was creeping into every cell of her body! How much longer could he keep it up?
As if in answer, Tommy gasped, "I'm going ... off. Few seconds...."
His words triggered her. A great bubble of ecstasy burst in her loins. She jerked under him with frantic pleasure. "Yes ... yes ... yes...." Her insides clenched around his swiftly plunging cock, milking, massaging, gripping. Her cunt tightened. Her fingers dug more urgently into his driving buttocks. She babbled, "Tommy, Tommy, honey, darling, Tommy, Oh, God! OH, GOD! OH, GOD OH, GOD DON'T STOP FUCKING ME! OH, MY GOD!"
She felt him tighten up, felt him thrust into her spasming cunt even harder-harder-harder! It made her delirious! He was coming!
He made an agonized sound-a wild cry-and a shudder passed through him. He froze for a blazing, straining second with his cock buried to the hilt, buried at its greatest size, its greatest rigidity, buried in her hot cunt as if welded into her forever. But only for that instant. Abruptly he exploded into a series of giant, savage plunges, rearing and plunging as he cried out and as jets of semen hosed the inside of her rippling cunt, as he smacked into her again and again!
Helen was almost unconscious. The pleasure, the emotional overload, was almost too much for her. She had come now-GOD!-she was spasming again as his climactic thrusts and spurts of semen changed the sensations to a shivery keenness, a new experience.
She clung desperately to his jerking body and fucked against his quieting moves, his subtly less hard cock. Her new peak receded quickly, leaving them both in a deepening lassitude.
Helen cradled Tommy lovingly in her arms and thighs. His cock remained buried in her, pulsing, gently moving ... but not shrinking very much. Still firm.
She lay getting her breath, resting, not wanting to think.
Tommy stirred after a few minutes. "Mom?"
"Umm?"
"That was the absolute best-the top-nothing could beat that."
"Umm-hmm!"
"It was worth, it, wasn't it?"
A worm of fear wriggled into her mind. She had succumbed. Now what? He wouldn't be satisfied with this once. Nor would she!
Did they face years of this-incest-of trying to keep it secret, of pretending....
Helen answered, "I hope so, honey."
Tommy rose up on his elbows and grinned down at her. She couldn't help returning his grin. "Wow, huh?" He rocked his hips a bit, sending his cock in motion, milking a few last vestiges of pleasure for them both. "I screwed you good, didn't I?"
She had to laugh. He was still a little boy, still-She closed her eyes. Her son!
"Hey I'm glad I did it. Putting that photo in my dirty shirt so you'd find it." He laughed. "You sure were shook that afternoon. I nearly laughed a couple times."
Helen opened her eyes and stared up at him.
"I never knew old people could get so hot and bothered over sex, especially women. I guess Dad really got you so you need it bad, almost every day, huh?"
She didn't answer.
"The way you raped that poor innocent cucumber that night."
She turned her face away. It had been a scheme, a campaign, to get her to this point. To fuck her. To get her to suck him ... jack him off.
She asked quietly, "Why did you do it?"
He understood. "I just wanted to. I guess I thought it would be a trip, and I guess I figured you'd be ... you know ... a wild...."
"A wild fuck?"
"Yeah. And you sure are, Mom. The wildest. Wow. My little Mom can take everything I've got and screw for more! You sure weren't kidding when you said there was somebody waiting for my big nine-inch pipe. I kind of guessed you were talking about yourself."
She nodded imperceptibly. She felt sick. She was afraid of him. He was an amoral, conscienceless, psychopath, as far as sex was concerned. Every move he had made for the past few weeks had been aimed at this event. What a cunning, manipulative young stud he was'. She could almost admire him.
Helen whispered, "Get off me, Tommy."
"Oh, hey, no. I can go again. I was just resting."
"Please get off. Let me up."
"You mad at me for something? Please, Mom, let me...." He began moving, thrusting with his still firm cock, grinding his pubes against hers, mashing her gaping slit with his curly patch, shocking her clitoris awake.
"Tommy!"
"No! I want to do it again!" He refused to obey her pushing hands. He buried his face against the pillow, next to her head, and fucked hard and fast.
Helen was trapped under him, pinioned, skewered by his giant cock.
She felt it harden again, lengthen, thicken. Now the heat and sparkle of lust and pleasure were reborn in her guts and loins.
He was screwing it all in, eeling it in the lubricant of his semen, giving his hips that extra, powerful surge that rammed the whole, thick club of flesh into her stretched, dilated cunt.
Helen quickly, helplessly, succumbed to the delicious, jolting pleasures. Once more she was panting, grunting, clutching him as her small body jerked and trembled in response to the incredibly deep fuck.
She tried, for just a few seconds, to resist the overpowering ecstasy that she felt boiling toward a climax. Then she could no longer oppose the sweet, urgent sensations She gave vent to a low cry-a moan of surrender, and let her body leap her cunt for those precious, smacking impacts, those eye-popping thrusts into her very soul.
Helen whimpered and grunted and wept and clawed and growled and gasped and screamed her ecstasy. She existed in a state of no-time. Nothing existed but her surging climax and the immense, god-like cock that was giving it to her.
Tommy pounded into her like a pile-driver. He was intent on his own pleasure, hunching, thrusting, plunging, screwing every last inch of blood-hard, wrist-thick cock into his mother's gripping, juicy cunt.
She went into a series of shuddering, keening, mind-blowing climaxes.
And Tommy kept slamming into her, sending nine inches into the hot, wet, slippery, tight depths of her belly. He was only barely aware of her wild spasms, her screams, her clawing hands.
Finally, he came a second time, hissing, digging his arms under her back, gluing her to his bellows-like chest and his washboard belly, gluing her with sweat and steel-strong arms. And now digging a hand under her jerking rump, spreading fingers to encompass both soft-round buttocks, holding her in a viciously selfish union, a prisoner, as his climactic lunges buried his monstrously large, rigid cock all the way-forcing even more-the last possible half-inch of thick root.
He spurted and whimpered and FUCKED and FUCKED and spurted and panted and whined and slowly weakened his last few plunges ... loosened his grip ... relaxed....
Tommy rolled off her. He lay gasping, breathing deeply, eyes closed, smiling.
Helen lay spread-legged, arms wide, her naked, sweaty little body a mass of twitching, quivering, pulsing bones and jelly. She was wiped out.
After a while she stirred and opened her eyes.
Tommy said, "Far out, huh?"
She turned her head and looked at him with adoring, haunted blue eyes. She covered her pussy with a hand and slowly, tiredly, wriggled off the bed. Without a word she went into the bathroom.
When she returned, wearing a robe she had had hanging on the inside of the bathroom door, she heard Tommy in the kitchen.
She slumped onto the bed. She fell back and closed her eyes, refusing to think.
She awakened later-in the dark-with Tommy's large, eager hands on her breasts, her robe open.
He sensed she was awake. "Mom? Let's do it again." He put her hand on his huge, hard cock.
Helen whispered in wonder ... and instantly re-awakened lust, "Ohhh ... my ... God ..
"Want to?"
"Oh, Tommy ... honey ... yes. Yes!"
He came over her, settled into her opening thighs....
Helen gasped and gloried as the great, thick piston of flesh and gristle entered her body again and filled her, completed her.
When he had driven her mad with pleasure and managed a third, and then a fourth orgasm for himself, Helen didn't care about cleaning up or protecting the blanket. She drew the bedspread up over them and she cuddled against his lean, strong male body, and slept deeply and dreamlessly.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Helen awakened first, in-the morning. Tommy lay on his stomach next to her, his left arm thrown across her stomach and hip.
She was sore. Her cunt was a long, deep ache in her belly. Her hip joints were sore from her thigh extension for so long the night before.
Yet there was a marvelous sense of well-being, too, which she didn't want to acknowledge.
She twisted her head to see the electric clock on the night table. Ten after ten! Tommy had missed getting up for school.
She felt cruddy. She wanted a hot, needling shower and hot, strong coffee. And she had to think! What had happened was so incredible and powerful an experience, that-it had changed everything. She was no longer just Tommy's mother. He was no longer just her son.
Helen tried to disengage from Tommy's arm without waking him, but he stirred and sighed and opened his eyes.
Their eyes met. He grinned slowly.
"You better get up and go to school. You've missed a couple hours as it is."
"I don't want to go to school today." He rolled over onto his back. "I just want to think about last night. Wow." He tried to draw Helen close, but she pulled clear of his arm.
Tommy cocked an eyebrow. "What's the matter? I wasn't thinking of doing it again ... but I could, if you want to."
She shook her head quickly. "No. I'm sore inside. You ... you really battered me."
He grinned. "Yeah."
She said firmly, "I want you to bathe and dress and eat breakfast, and go to school for the rest of the day. I have things to do ... and thinking to do."
He sobered. "You sorry about what we did?" Helen smiled ruefully. "Tommy ... it isn't simple for me."
He made a face and threw aside the covering bedspread. "Boy, older people sure make things complicated."
Helen's gaze was drawn by his revealed, naked cock, soft now, but still as long as most men when hard. His cock was beautifully shaped and proportioned, white and pink....Tommy's entire body was as lovely as Michelangelo's David.
A pang of love and lust, desire and fear, went through her. This situation had to be handled very carefully. She had to think it through.
An hour later, she had him out of the front door and on the way to school with a note explaining his absence that morning. A mythical dental examination.
Helen sat at the breakfast table sipping more coffee. The danger was that she would probably begin to lose her authority over him. He would become arrogant, self-assertive, unmanageable....As time went on, as they had sex more and more often, she would lose her motherhood and become a servant he fucked a lot. He would tend to take over, do exactly what he wished, when he wished....
She would have lost her status, her moral and social power over him. He was too young to understand and too immature to control himself.
She had let a genie out of the bottle. There was no way things would ever be the same. This genie-this incestuous relationship-could not be put back into the bottle.
She knew she was too weak, too passionate, to resist; Tommy was too innocent and selfish.
She closed her eyes and remembered some of what had happened. Her small hands clenched. Her thighs tightened and her cunt heated in spite of the ache. She whispered, "God help me."
When Tommy came home that afternoon, Helen hoped she had an approach, a strategy, that might keep the situation under control.
She took him into the living room and sat him next to her on the sofa. "Tommy, we have to decide what last night means. We have to decide rules and limits and relationships."
He grimaced. "There you go trying to complicate everything again. What's so complicated with us making love when we both want to? Nothing else has to change."
"Honey, sex has a way of changing relationships. There's a dynamics involved-"
"Oh, shit! You're just trying to screw everything up. Something good happens and you've got to come on with all that grown-up talk about rules and regulations! Why can't you just let things happen! Why do you have to try to cram everything new and great into that old-fashioned box of moral crap you were taught when you were a kid."
Tommy was angry and resentful. He sprang up from the sofa. "You're not going to have any more babies, are you? So what difference does it make?"
"How do you know I had a hysterectomy?"
"Oh, Dad told me a couple years ago. I happened to ask if I'd ever have a kid brother or sister, and he said you and he'd decided to only have one baby, and when they opened you up to deliver me, the doctors cut your tubes."
"Yes, but ... it isn't just that. It's the problem of you being a man sometimes, and then switching back to a boy. Can you obey me as your mother, and then turn around and ... and be my lover?"
"That's different." He ' frowned in thought. "We play cards together, and sometimes I beat you. We're not son and mother when we play cards. We're just ... just players out to win."
"But, honey, sex is-"
"It's the same thing. We just play a different kind of game. While we're in bed we're two people having sex fun and enjoying it and when it's over, we sort of switch back to being me and you-me boy, you mother. That's all."
Helen knew she had been defeated. Maybe he was right. Maybe his attitude would work. She bowed her head. "All right, honey. We'll see how it works out."
"Sure. You'll see." He sat beside her again, close. He slipped his left arm around her. "Like now." He squeezed her left breast through her blouse. She hadn't worn a bra. She rarely did around the house. She didn't jiggle and flop enough to make control necessary.
Tommy asked, "Are you still sore inside?"
She nodded. She chewed her lower lip. "It'll be a few days." She noticed the lengthening bulge his cock was making down the inside of his gold jeans. She was amazed and alarmed. "Are you horny? After last night?"
"Sure." He tilted her face to meet his kiss.
Helen was reluctant at first, then began to enjoy his tongue and his hands on her unencumbered breasts. Her nipples popped out to tingly hardness. She yielded more and more, pressed against him, knowing intercourse now would hurt like hell-but not caring.
Tommy broke the deep kiss and started unbuttoning her blouse. "We don't have to screw, Mom. I want to go down on you. I've been wanting to tongue you for a long time. And then you can suck me. That's almost as much fun as screwing."
She sighed with acceptance. He was so direct and honest. He really didn't think incest was evil, or sex was inherently bad, or had to be restricted....
Tommy opened her blouse and sank his mouth to her turgid left nipple. He licked it for a second, stopped, and asked, "Okay? You want to?"
"Oh, yes." She slumped gradually lower in the sofa.
Tommy slid off the sofa to his knees. His mouth remained fastened-sucking so sweetly-on her nipple. He could open his mouth wide and engulf almost all her small breast.
He slid his hands under her short plaid skirt to the waistband of her pantyhose. He inched them down little by little.
Helen sat spread open, her blouse hanging wide, framing her white breasts and prominent red nipples, her thighs wide, her knees touching Tommy's waist. ... She breathed shallowly through her mouth. Her cunt felt like simmering meat, and her clitoris was already swollen, in that taut, humming state of erotic expectancy. What would Tommy's tongue be like? Would he be rough or gentle? She could hardly wait.
When he had worked her panties low enough, she braced and lifted her hips. He pulled the thin nylon swiftly under her rump and-as she closed her thighs-down her legs to her ankles. He pulled her shoes off, then her bunched pantyhose.
The feel of the sofa's velvet fur upholstery under her naked buttocks was tremendously exciting. Boldly, lustfully, she whispered, as she reopened her slim, white thighs, "Eat me, honey." Her voice trembled. "Eat me...."
He shouldered between her thighs. His face pressed quickly, eagerly to her furry pussy. He licked into her waiting slit. His tongue-tip flicked onto her clitoris.
The flare of sensation caused Helen to gasp and jerk her hips. She began to melt.
Tommy said, "Ummm. Good. A big clit. That's the kind I like to suck on."
She writhed sensuously as he suctioned her little pleasure organ, between his lips and lashed it with his tongue. She moaned, "Be my guest! Ohhhh ... honey....
Shame was far behind her, now. Guilt lingered, but ... it didn't get in the way. She wallowed in sexual pleasure as her son sent his tongue around and around and over and under and across her thrumming clitoris.
She began to pant as a climax surged with explosive power and shook her for long, exquisite seconds. Her stomach flexed and tightened. Her thighs tightened against Tommy's neck and head. She dug fingers into the crevices between the cushions and gripped the sponge-filled slabs.
She had come within a minute! And the pleasure was barely receding. ... She knew in her .simmering guts that she'd come again and again, as long as he kept up that marvelous licking and sucking.
Tommy came up for air. He grinned his lopsided grin. "Pulled your trigger, didn't I?"
She nodded. "You're a marvelous lover. It's incredible."
"It's easy with you, Mom. You're a pistol."
"Thank you ... I think." She giggled inanely, almost hysterically. She ran her fingers through his long blond hair. She was smoldering, wanting more. She curled her fingers around to the back of his head. She licked her warm lips. She whispered, "There's another shell in the chamber, honey. Ready, aim, fire."
"I've got a gun of my own that wants to go off."
"Oh, it'll go off, don't worry. You fire my gun and I'll blow your cannon."
They both laughed. Tommy straightened up and forward and kissed her. They moaned and clutched and couldn't get enough air through their flaring nostrils.
Helen had to drag her mouth free. In spite of the deep ache she wanted him to fuck her! She was about to suggest it, when he lowered his head and began mouthing her breasts.
She lay sprawled, in utter abandon, simply enjoying it. When his mouth left her breasts and left a wet trail down her taut belly, to her still hungry slit, she didn't object.
He nuzzled his face against her pussy and sent his fluttering tongue in to her buzzing clitoris. He spread his lips over her slit and licked and licked ... fast, then slower ... fast again....
Her belly sucked in and spasmed. She gave a series of quavering moans. The pleasure seduced her will again and again. She abandoned gripping the cushions as her fourth orgasm rippled her insides with ecstasy. She reached over her head to the top of the sofa and clutched at the back edge. "Oh, Tommy! Tommy! Ahhhh...!" Her cunt jerked against his clinging mouth.
He stopped licking a few minutes later. She was limp as a wet rag by then. Her internal organs gradually quieted. The fierce pleasures faded to occasional sharp echoes.
He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He moved up and slumped into the sofa beside her. "Boy, I almost squirted off a couple times when you came. Kind of a reaction to your enjoyment. Wow. I really like to make you get off, Mom."
Helen saw the incredible length of his cock running down the inside of his dark gold jeans. She felt a reverence for it, a feeling of responsibility to it-and to him.
She whispered, "Oh ... I really do go off, all right. Dear God ... do I!" She reached over and caressed the long, hard bulge in his pant leg. "You're a wonderful lover. Impossibly good." Tommy was pleased. He grinned. "Yeah? That really means something, from you."
"Honey, all your life you'll have all the women you want. They'll fight to keep you, once they've been to bed with you."
"Boy, tell me more!"
"Oh ... you don't need me to tell you that. In a few years-maybe in a few months-you'll be beating them off with a stick."
"Naw ... I don't think so. Not when they find out I've got this horse-sized prick waiting for them. I'll stick with what I've got. You're terrific, mom." He patted her lower belly. "It's like honey and velvet in there. Tight and squeezing and just enough room to take everything I've got."
Just his talking about it made her cunt quiver and heat up deep inside.
Helen slipped off the sofa to her knees. She moved between his open legs. "Let's get these jeans down so I can make you happy."
She reached up and unbuckled him, popped the snap, ran the zipper, and pulled the tight, tough jeans down, as he lifted his firm buttocks ... far enough down to allow his giant cock to spring free of the confining leg.
The massive organ jerked upward before her ever-amazed eyes. It swung to the right, heavily, stiffly, like a great pink and white creature, blindly seeking....
Helen took it in both hands and pumped the skin slowly, squeezing the thick pillar of flesh, bringing a large drop of natural lubricant to the smell slit in the glans.
She brought the glans to her mouth and licked the drop away. She milked for more, and licked again. She glanced up and saw Tommy watching intently, his blue eyes heavy-lidded with lust.
She said, half-apologetically, "I can't do the deep-throat thing from this position."
"I don't care. This way is plenty good. You can do it the other way in bed later on ... tonight."
Helen shivered at his virility. Day and night. No: morning, afternoon, night ... and in between!
She leaned forward, guided the monster cock to her eager lips, and took the silky, softly rounded glans in, to the hot, working depths of her mouth.
She was rewarded by Tommy's quickened breathing, by the tension in his thighs, by the short moans ... as she suctioned and licked and bobbed.
The thick cock in her hands became super hard. A kind of electricity seemed to come into it. She knew he was close to shooting now. His hips had begun a quick, smooth thrusting up into her mouth. She took as much cock-to the back of her throat-as she could. She tightened her mouth and cheeks on the jabbing glans.
Tommy's breathing quickened still more. It began to grow ragged. He tensed. His head and shoulders came forward stiffly.
She looked up as she sucked and saw his face a mask, his eyes glazed, his mouth opening, contorting....
She felt the first strong pulse in his cock with her clasping hands, and then the gush of hot semen shot into her throat.
Helen swallowed greedily as another and then another gob of the sweet, white, egg-like fluid coated her mouth and tongue and throat.
She sucked and swallowed and tried to make his pleasure stronger than ever. She bobbed her head swiftly, whining in her throat in her desire to reward him, to please him.
Tommy was twisting on the sofa, grunting, gasping, as his cock blazed with his orgasm.
Then the last of his semen was pumped out, oozed to her fervent lips and tongue, and he was hunched over her, strong hands grasping her head, lifting....
Helen had been in a kind of daze, in a trance of sucking and tasting and swallowing, of giving his cock her best effort.
She gave a small complaining wail as his cock was taken from her. Then she was herself again, ashamed, guilty, and afraid.
She sat back on her heels and smiled tremulously.
Tommy stood up and pulled up his jeans. His softened cock disappeared from view. "Wow, Mom, do you ever suck like a champion."
She didn't want to talk sex anymore. She got to her feet and closed her clothing. She picked up her pantyhose and retreated to her bedroom.
She stood behind the closed door and stared unseeing at the big bed. She had to change clothes ... think about making supper. ... The bed came into focus. Last night her son had fucked her there. Fucked her so well and so thoroughly that she had been morally, spiritually, and almost physically destroyed.
And tonight-in a few hours-he would do it to her again.
Helen began to tremble. She suppressed a smile as tears rolled down her cheeks. She was abandoning all hope.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Helen liked Pete Kincaid instantly. He was the owner of a small plumbing shop, and he needed an office girl to keep the books, make out bills and take calls.
She sat in his cluttered inner office on a battered old executive chair by his scarred desk, and nodded as he explained what her duties would be.
He was over six feet three, she thought. Rail thin. Lincolnesque, with his thick, shaggy, graying brown hair, clean-shaven lantern jaw, and there seemed to be pain, or sorrow, in his deep-set brown eyes.
His hands seemed enormous as he toyed nervously with a pencil as he interviewed her.
"I'm sick and tired of girls, if you know what I mean, Mrs. Dempsey. They take the job, don't give a sh-damn about being on time, about not making stupid mistakes, or even showing up when it doesn't quite suit them. Kids nowadays never had hard times. They don't value jobs. The boss is always a bastard. ... That's what they're taught in school."
Helen smiled. "I want this job, Mister Kincaid. I'll work very hard to keep it."
He returned her smile. He nodded. "I think you will. Call me Pete. And always keep a pot of hot, black coffee going. Those are the two prime rules around here. The last girl forgot the coffee all the time."
"I'll remember." She sensed his restlessness. He wanted to get back to his work. There were probably service calls backing up on his schedule. She stood up. "I'll go out and start learning from the girl you have now, if you like."
"That's Jenny. She gave notice a week ago, which most don't do-give notice-to get married ... and have a baby. I think she's already pregnant."
"No need to worry about me ... having a baby. My tubes were tied years and years ago."
"Better safe than sorry, hmm?" Pete stood up, too. He smiled and his eyes took in Helen's small, trim body. She had worn a short plaid skirt and snug green blouse, a cardigan sweater and matching green shoes and purse.
Helen noticed his male glance at her body. She was attracted to him, too. She noticed he wore no ring.
Pete said, taking her hand for a few seconds. "See you tomorrow morning at seven-thirty. Jenny will be here, too, until the end of the week, so you'll have four days to learn the routines and systems we use. It's your basic, primitive small business bookkeeping and filing setup. Nothing fancy."
"Thank you ... Pete." Their hands lingered together a fraction longer than necessary. A spark had passed between them. Their eyes met.
In the larger, outer office, Helen discovered her old office skills were not lost. She absorbed the basic procedures within an hour. She knew the first few weeks would be a time of special effort as she concentrated on not making mistakes and developing system habits.
Jenny was a tall, chunky girl in her late teens: long blonde hair, a casual sloppiness in dress, an openness and honesty Helen liked.
When Pete had driven away in his company truck, Jenny said, "You know, he's a nice guy, and he probably won't try to make you. You're too small for him."
"What do you mean? My husband was over six feet."
"What I mean-he tries to lay just about every new office girl-maybe that's why he's had so many come and go in here. I worked here a year ago-I live only a couple blocks away, and I come in to fill in when he's desperate, but I'm getting married and we're moving clear over to Walnut Park so I'm not going to be available. ... But, you know, he tried me the first week I was here, but, cripes, he's hung like a bull. He's hung twice as big as my Fred ... and what Fred's got is all I need, you know?"
Helen was intrigued. Her heart began to thud. "Well, how much like a bull?"
"Take my word for it. If you ever get a look at that pipe of his you'll run screaming. I nearly fainted when he put my hand on it in his pants. That was enough. It felt like a ... well-" Jenny reached over and gripped Helen's arm between wrist and elbow. "Just about this big around, and I guess nearly a foot long. I don't know how any girl could take something that big. Gawd."
"Maybe that's why he has that sad look." Jenny laughed. "Well, you know, he's never been married, I don't think. No wonder. Which is why I said he probably won't bother you. He needs a woman as big as he is, not a tiny lady like you."
Helen almost said something. She dropped the subject and asked about billing procedures. But her heart kept thudding.
She told herself she was Tommy's, now. She had no right to speculate about other men. ... Her guts went sloppy and simmering at the thought of the coming night. She wasn't sore anymore. Tonight she could let him pound her into the bed again ... and again ... and again!
She went weak for a second at the memory of that ecstatic night a week ago. To be fucked like that once more ... to have it every night ... anytime she wanted!
That over-ruled all other considerations ... didn't it?
Tommy-her son-had captured her. His sexual desires ruled her.
She resented it, feared it, but. ... There was no escape for her.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
When Helen entered the house later that afternoon she heard Tommy's hi-fi playing LOUD. She wanted to tell him about her job. He'd be proud of her.
She dropped her purse in a living room chair and turned into the hall. His door was ajar. She pushed it open, took one step And stopped, as if she had walked into a brick wall. Her breath left her.
Tommy lay on his bed with his pants open. He was studying a textbook. His right arm was around a teen-age girl-one of the twins from the photos!-and she had his cock out, it was hard, and she was slowly stroking it as she read from another textbook.
Simultaneously, Helen noticed the other twin sitting at Tommy's desk, writing in a notebook.
Tommy and the girl had looked up as she entered. Tommy grinned. "Hi, Mom." He was perfectly casual, not ashamed, not guilty. He acted as if the girl's hand wasn't wrapped around his huge cock, as if she wasn't pulling the skin up and down ... continuing to do it even as Helen stared with frozen eyes.
The girl watched her curiously, measured her, and Helen knew the girl was aware of what had been going on between herself and her son. She knew! Tommy had told!.
The other twin looked around with the same expression.
Helen sagged. She felt rage and despair, hatred, jealousy and fear. She tried to speak. Finally she managed, "Tommy, what's ... what do you think you're doing?"
"Nothing much. Studying a little." He grinned. All three of the teen-agers watched her go through changes before their eyes. Was she an interesting experiment?
Helen's eyes riveted on his exposed, rigid cock ... the possessive little hand that held it, worked it...."I-I want this stopped!" She spoke directly to the girl, "Take your hand away!" Tommy reached down and held the girl's hand in place. "No, I like it. What's the matter, Mom? You a little jealous?"
Helen's eyes widened. She couldn't cope with that kind of directness. She veered. "I want to talk to you-alone. I want these girls to leave."
"Why? We can talk in your bedroom. Why do Annette and Barb have to leave?"
"Because I-I think it would be best if they left. I'm your mother, Tommy, and this is my house!"
"Sure, but they're my friends. My special friends. You said I could bring my friends in after school, anytime. We study a lot together. We help each other."
"Obviously."
"You mean Annette's playing with me? She likes to play with it." He half turned his head to the girl. "Don't you?"
Annette smiled and looked at his cock. She pumped it faster. "Sure."
Neither Tommy nor Annette nor Barbara made a move. The seconds ticked by. They watched her.
Helen felt defeated. This was what she had feared; he was defying her, disobeying, usurping her authority. She said sharply, "Tommy! You heard me!"
"Aw, Mom. I invited Anny and Barb to stay for supper. I didn't think you'd mind. And I kind of have something planned for us tonight after we get our studying done and after we eat." He grinned his lopsided, sensual, suggestive grin.
Now Helen knew real gut-sinking fear. There was no mistaking his meaning. She knew in her soul he was planning some kind of ... of orgy ... involving all of them.
She inwardly recoiled from the idea. She couldn't share him! Not in the same bed ... not watch those little girls do the things....
She whispered, "They ... they can stay for supper. But that's all. That's all!"
Tommy continued his grin. He winked. It was too humiliating for her. She turned and fled through the door.
Helen found herself in the living room, staring at the fireplace. Her mind was a turmoil. Dear God, what have I started? What am I getting into?
A deep mocking voice in her mind whispered, You know! How do you get out? How do you save your life?
Even deeper in her mind, forces of character and decision began to form.
At the surface, Helen glanced at the wall clock. It was still too early to start supper. She entered the hall again, to go to her room to change clothes. She noticed that Tommy's door was closed now. She heard muted giggling from inside his room.
Her lips pressed together. She entered her room at the other end of the short hall and slammed the door shut.
An hour and a half later, as she was cupping balls of hamburger in her hands and pressing them flat on wax paper, for frying in a few moments, one of the twins came into the kitchen.
Helen had no idea which she was. She asked.
"Oh, I'm Barbara." Barbara stood beside Helen, watching. She said, after a minute, "I'm a lot different from Annette. Inside, I mean. She's boy crazy."
"And I suppose you're just crazy."
Barbara said, not offended, "Cheap shot." She stood on one foot, then another, then asked, "Can I help do something?"
Helen looked at her and really saw the girl as a person, for the first time. She possessed the same rounded face and button nose as Annette. The same rosebud mouth. Her body was subtly different, though. ... Helen decided Barbara was a bit less rounded than Annette; her breasts, beneath the short, striped dress, were not quite as heavy. And there was a different look to Barbara's brown eyes. There was an entirely different person inside, looking out.
Helen said, "Yes, thank you. You can set the table if you like. Silverware in that drawer ... plates in that cupboard."
As she put out the plates and silverware, Barbara said, "I liked you the minute I saw you. I think Tommy is too smart-alecky for his own good. All puffed up ego to match that big horn of his. He's so proud of it. He thinks it's a magic wand or something. He thinks he can do anything he wants because he has it. Big deal."
Helen was surprised at Barbara's attitude. "But don't you ... do things with him?"
"Oh, sure, for fun. He's a super tongue, and I don't mind giving him head. But I leave Annette the fun of letting him stick that thing inside her."
"I gather you like boys who aren't so well endowed."
"No. I don't much like boys at all." She moved over close beside Helen at the stove. She put her arm around Helen. She was three inches taller and heavier by at least twenty pounds. "I'm actually kind of butch."
Helen turned her head to look up into Barbara's eyes. She had heard about butch girls. Gay girls. Dykes.
Helen felt Barbara's hand slide up to cover her left breast. She hadn't worn a bra-habit-and the feel of the girl's small hand closing over her thinly covered flesh was-strange.
Not repulsive. Different. Yet anger came. "Don't!" She turned away to get the onion salt from the seasonings rack.
Barbara dropped her arm. "What's so terrible about making love with a girl who digs you?"
"Nothing, if you like it, too."
Barbara smiled. "You never know till you try it." She put her hands on Helen again. "It isn't any more immoral than making it with your own son, is it?"
"Helen couldn't answer. She stood, immobilized by the knowledge that Tommy had told these girls ... apparently casually, as if it didn't matter who knew!
She knew Barbara's hands were inside her blouse, fondling her bare breasts, caressing, gently rubbing the large nipples, bringing them out, causing tingles that weren't yet registering.
Helen jerked to awareness when Barbara pressed her rosebud lips to hers. She pulled her head back quickly. Yet her mouth was alive with the sensation of the girl's soft, warm lips. "Don't!" She pushed Barbara's hands away.
Yet the awareness of her soft hands had been pleasant. The touch had been gentle ... tender.
Barbara said, "Tommy doesn't care if we make it together. He wants us to. He said so."
Helen stared at her.
"He said I should initiate you." Barbara's hands stole into Helen's gaping blouse again. Her fingers gently rubbed the sides of the swelling red nipples.
Helen felt rage at her son. She felt-betrayed. He was treating her like dirt. After what she had done for him.
She found herself saying, "Maybe I should let you!" But she pulled away from Barbara and buttoned her blouse. She turned the heat up under the big fry pan. She scowled at the simmering hamburger patties.
Tommy was a selfish, immature child. A taker. Ego-ridden. She had allowed her needs to blind her to his obviously flawed character. Love wasn't part of his make-up.
He thought of her as a toy ... a plaything. A conquest.
And he had all kinds of orgy games he wanted to try out tonight with her and the twins.
Helen smiled wryly. She snapped at Barbara, "Pour the milk and tell Tommy and your sister supper is almost ready."
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
After supper, Helen said to Tommy, "You and the girls clean up and do the dishes. That's an order." Without waiting for an argument she turned and went to her room.
She sat on the big bed and tried to read the afternoon paper. But she found herself listening to the sounds....
The kids were obeying her! Amazing. But, she realized, it was probably because Tommy wanted to pretend to be an obedient son, to get her in a good mood, to remove any obstacle to the games he had planned for later.
There was a big lump of fear in the pit of her stomach, a spreading dread. She was nauseous from it.
She knew she wasn't quite capable of resisting him. She was as lust-ridden as ever. Yet, she would resist!
She managed to concentrate on the paper after a few minutes.
She jumped when Tommy rapped on her door. "Mom? Hey, can I come in for a minute?"
"What do you want?"
"I want to talk to you. Something wrong?" Helen watched him try the knob. The door was locked. The fear in the pit of her stomach intensified.
"Mom?"
She swallowed saliva. She said, "God help me." She slid off the bed and went to the door. She unlocked it.
Tommy entered, shut the door behind him, and grinned down at her. "You're sure acting funny."
She went to the heart of it. "Honey-doing certain things with you, in private, in secret, is one thing. But to tell others ... You-told those girls what we did!"
"Oh, they won't go around blabbing. They know better. Nobody knows about me'n them except us, and you."
"Oh, Tommy! Girls have best friends and they tell secrets all the time!"
He pursed his lips and shrugged and grinned. "So what if some other kids do hear about it? So what? I mean,, most kids don't care who does what anymore, as far as sex goes. They assume, everything goes on to begin with. It isn't that big a thing anymore. And if somebody your age got wind of it, they probably wouldn't believe it. It is pretty far out. And all we have to do is look shocked and say it's a lie and we'll sue for slander or something."
"You've got it all figured out."
"Sure. Hey, come on out to the living room. We're going to have some fun."
"That kind of fun?"
"Sure, why not? You'll enjoy it a lot. You always do."
"No, thank you. Start the orgy without me!"
"Aw, come on. We're not going to take any pictures, for Christ's sake."
"No! I'm not going to do anything like that with you ever again! And certainly not with those girls looking on ... or joining in!"
Helen tried to urge Tommy out of her room. She started to close the door.
He blocked it with his foot. "Hey, Mom...." He grabbed for her breasts.
A flash of resentment-humiliation-fear-hate brought her hand up in a reflexive smack across his cheek.
He blinked. He stepped back.
She slammed the door ... and relocked it. She stood with her back to the door, trembling. She had meant it, but her cunt ached for his cock. That was the bottom line.
And now she was a prisoner in her bedroom. She listened at the door and heard Tommy go back to the living room. She heard the girls laugh.
The kids stayed in the living room. The TV came on.
Helen felt grungy from the long day. She decided to sneak into the bathroom and take a quick shower.
Five minutes later, naked, she stood under the pelting spray, secure in the knowledge that the bathroom door was locked.
She was lathering her small, pert breasts when she stifled a scream as a hand crept past the edge of the green shower curtain, next to the hot water faucet.
The fingers held a key. The emergency key to the bathroom.
Then Tommy peeked between the curtain and the side of the tub enclosure. "Surprise, Mom." Helen knew what was going to happen. "Tommy, please-"
He pulled the curtain open and stood there, naked, his huge cock swinging between his thighs, dragging her gaze down to it, causing a too familiar urgent heat in her cunt.
He didn't ask permission. He stepped into the shower. He towered over her. He took the soap from her unresisting hands. "I can wash your tits better than you, Mom."
"No, please ,.. no...."
But his hands were lathered and taking her breasts, sliding, slithering on her in erotic, exciting caresses, thumbing her stick-out nipples, squeezing, indenting, contorting the white, pear-like flesh.
She sagged helplessly against the warm tile wall. The spray was on her right side, and hitting Tommy full front. She had her head down, watching his manipulation of her breasts, and looking further down ... watching his cock slowly lengthen and thicken and lift away from his thighs in spite of its mass. Was it the hot spray, or his arousal from fondling her body?
She dragged her eyes away. She tilted her head back and closed her eyes. She was surrendering. I can't help this last time. Ifs got to be the last time. One final She whimpered in her throat as his mouth plastered over hers and his tongue forced its entrance and found her tongue.
Helen's hands crept from her sides to his hips, her fingers spread wide and slid around to his firm buttocks. Her fingers dug in and urged his loins closer....
She was galvanized by lust when his massive cock touched her pussy, as his belly pressed hers, as the hot, hard length of his organ fitted powerfully into the valley of her loins and thighs.
She squirmed under his kiss. Her thighs opened slightly and the thick cock surged into her crotch. It prodded deep till it touched the tiles.
She tightened her thighs and imprisoned the terrifying thickness. She felt the throbbing along her slit and all the way under to the bottom cleft of her buttocks. She writhed against him and succeeded in working her slit apart till it kissed open-mouthed the broad upper surface of the shaft. She writhed-and rubbed her swollen clitoris against the shaft.
She clutched his tall, lean body ever tighter. She moved against him-masturbating on his huge cock. Kissing, panting, digging fingers now into his shoulder blades, now into his buttocks.
Helen spasmed. She broke the utterly passionate kiss and buried her face between his chest and upper arm. Her belly jumped against his. Her legs weakened for a few seconds. She clung to him for support. She sobbed with a mixture of conflicting emotion-and knew he was smiling without seeing his face.
He waited a minute as she quieted, and said, "Now you wash me, where it counts."
Helen wanted to whisper, "Yes, master," and would have if he had not brought those two girls into the house, and had not told them-everything. He had violated her trust, and their most intimate relationship. Now she bit back the words and yielded to her desire to touch, handle, lick, suck the giant cock. And to be its master. To make it spurt forth its precious juices. And through it, to be Tommy's master, for only a little while.
She knelt in the tub and there before her eyes, pulsing with the pounding of his heart, wet, massive, hung the object of her desires.
Helen lifted it and skinned back the prepuce from the big silky glans. She took a bar of oval, pink, perfumed soap from the nearby silver tray and rotated it in her wet, free hand.
She put down the soap and lovingly cupped his glans with her soapy fingers and palm, then rotated her palm on the glans, and then lathered the long, thick shaft.
She ignored the spray on her short blonde hair. She cupped his large testicles and gently washed them. Her middle fingers tickled the underside of his crotch and he danced and laughed.
She moved her head out of the spray and let the water rinse the giant cock clean. She lifted it this way and that and played her hands up and down its length.
Finally the monster was clean and ready.
Helen knew her hair was sopping, plastered to her head, knew she was on her knees in abject worship, and didn't care.
This night was the last night this would happen. Come hell or high water, she would never suck this cock again. After tonight it would never enter her cunt.
But that was tomorrow ... And now. ... She took the glans slowly into her mouth. Her lips clung tightly to the spongy, heart-shaped head. She licked the sensitive underside, flicking her tongue from side to side, flicking the tongue-tip in a swift, darting, gentle licking movement....
She kept one hand on his buttocks, and one hand flat on his left thigh. She could gauge his arousal by muscle tension, and urge him to mouth-fuck her, when the time came.
She took more cock into her mouth. Her mouth was wide open to surround the size of it. Her lips crept forward....The back of her throat was nudged and she gagged slightly.
Helen became absorbed in the art of sucking the monster. She had her eyes closed against the trickles of hot water that wormed down her forehead from the spray that drummed on her head. She didn't hear Barbara enter the bathroom, and did not see Barbara peek into the shower.
Barbara was naked. She smiled and winked with Tommy. Tommy whispered in her ear and played with her large, fleshy breasts.
Barbara nodded and went to her knees beside Helen, who was oblivious to all except the heavy cock in her mouth and Tommy's body.
For an instant, when the girl's gentle fingers touched her small breast, Helen thought that somehow Tommy was doing it. Then she realized that was impossible-and she recognized the light, caressing contact-and opened her eyes, turned her head slightly to see, and recognized Barbara and took in the whole naked scene.
Helen looked upward and saw Tommy smiling down. "Enjoy her, mom. Barb digs you."
Helen had continued sucking his cock through this, but now she took her mouth from it. "No, I don't "You know you like it, Helen." Barbara knelt lower and turned her head-into the fringe of spray-and fastened her mouth on Helen's big red nipple.
Helen looked down at the suckling girl, scowling, enjoying the tingling and the tickling of the skilled tongue, but not wanting to be pressured into what they had planned.
Tommy said, "Let her do her thing, Mom. What have you got to lose?" He took her wet head in his hands and urged her to take his cock into her mouth again. "Come on. I was really getting close."
"But honey ..Even as she continued to try to object, she allowed him to bring her mouth closer to his waiting cock. "I don't-" And then her lips were on his glans again, spreading open, taking, sliding over the bulk, letting it go deep....
She gave in. Why not let it happen? Let it all happen-just this once!
She Sucked fervently, more adroitly and ardently than ever before, because Barbara's mouth and tongue at her nipple were weirdly exciting in a way she couldn't understand.
And now Barbara was caressing her other breast with a gentle, knowing hand ... bringing a simmering lust to greater heat, making Helen restless and eager, inspiring thoughts and images of Barbara going down on her, using those delicate tongue and lips skills on her sweetly tensioned clitoris.
Helen felt Tommy's muscles gradually tighten under her palms. She knew he was really close to coming now. She opened her eyes and looked upward into the warm spray. He was hunching over slightly, his handsome young face taut and self-absorbed.
Helen decided to do it differently this time. Mouth-fucking was too violent. Her head would be rocked against the tiles.
She took his thick, long, vibrantly rigid cock in both hands, one hand above the other, and concentrated on sucking the remaining three plus inches of glans and shaft with all the tongue and mouth skills she knew.
She twisted and turned her head as she whipped and flicked her tongue, as she fluted her cheeks and used the slick, velvety surfaces to further his pleasure, and as she brought the roof of her mouth into play, and the soft, spasming, narrowing down-curve into her throat.
Barbara was not content with sucking and fondling her nipples and breasts. She insinuated a hand between Helen's slender white thighs and wormed a finger to the wet, juicy slit.
When Barbara touched her waiting, eager clitoris in a special, gently skilled manner, Helen moaned around the huge mouthful of Tommy's cock. She sucked even more vivaciously.
Tommy's breathing was ragged and loud in spite of the sound of the shower. He sounded as if he were running an exhausting race. He panted and gasped and A fat gob of thick semen jetted to the back of Helen's throat. She gagged reflexively as another spurt came into her clinging, suctioning, twisting mouth.
Tommy was grunting, shivering, shoving blindly at her mouth, restrained by her clasped hands around the shaft.
A great amount of semen was in her mouth now, being whipped to a froth by her tongue and the thrusting piston of his glans.
Helen was in a state of spiritual ecstasy in spite of her vow that this was the last time, in spite of the anger she felt at Tommy's indiscretion and manipulative behavior.
She gloried in giving her man the ultimate pleasure of orgasm. She was transported, too, by the intensity of the experience for him. She was a phallic worshipper, engaged in her religion, immersed in the elemental mystique of the male and the big cock ... the power ... the mastery ... and the female subservience and superiority implicit in her role.
And Helen spasmed with her own climax from the brief touch of Barbara's finger. She keened with pleasure and her thighs clamped tight on Barbara's hand as she milked Tommy's massive cock of the last possible drop of semen.
She released the huge organ. It fell from her tired mouth. A dribble of thick white fluid bubbled from a comer of her mouth. She swallowed the accumulation, licked her lips with a coated tongue, swallowed again, and turned her face up, mouth open, to the cooling spray.
They had been in the shower for many minutes. The hot water was gone.
Tommy stepped over and around Helen and Barbara. He knelt briefly and said to Helen as he kissed her damp forehead, "You're fantastic, Mom."
He left the bathroom. He closed the door behind him, leaving Helen alone with Barbara.
Helen sighed and reached up to turn off the shower. "That's that ... for a while."
Barbara had not left her side. Her hand was still between Helen's thighs, though her finger was not sliding deliciously in Helen's still juicy slit. Barbara's head now rested against Helen's small shoulder.
Barbara murmured, "Now that he's out of the way...."
Helen said, "I'm not gay."
"You don't have to be. All that goop about having to be this or that before you're allowed to do some things ... It's old-fashioned crapola." She spoke with passion. Her opinions were stated as obvious facts.
Barbara continued, "We're all persons now, in this era. Women smoke cigars and men carry bags. The old style sex roles are busted open now. You can do what you want, be what you have the talent to be, and have pleasure with who you want, if it pleases you ... man or woman."
Helen said, "At what ages? You're a minor, Barbara."
"Oh, fuck those medieval laws! I don't recognize them for me. I'm as aware of everything now, and I know more and I've seen more of life, than ninety-nine percent of those old, nineteenth-century, male-chauvinist, sexist turds who sat around falling asleep and stroking their gray beards while passing all those laws to keep women and blacks and everybody but them in their place!"
Helen smiled. "Well said. But the laws still exist, and if we get caught..
"Don't think Tommy and Annette and me're all that dumb!" Barbara had straightened up and left the shower. She extended a hand and helped Helen up ... and pulled her close.
Helen abruptly found herself in a sensual naked embrace, in Barbara's strong arms, being kissed fiercely, possessively, passionately, by soft, hot, rosebud lips."
Helen stiffened briefly, resisting, then relaxed as an inner wall gave way. There were no limits tonight. She'd face the consequences tomorrow.
She found, with the veil of guilt and fear and role-playing torn away, that she liked the feel of the girl's large, soft breasts against her own firm, small, pointed ones, and liked the sensation of her hard nipples indenting soft, warm flesh-instead of being mashed against hard masculine pectorals and ribs.
Helen responded to the girl's probing tongue and liked the intrusion. She met the tongue-tip with her own and played touch games. It was tremendously exciting. Her cunt seemed to be linked to the dance of tongues and to tingle in response, echoing the galvanizing eroticism of the deep kiss.
Barbara pulled her dominating mouth free. She kissed the hollow of Helen's throat, her earlobes, her shoulders. She said hoarsely, "I'm going to drive you out of your mind."
Helen whispered, laughing, "I'm half out of my mind now. I have to be crazy to be doing this."
"Don't worry, don't worry, don't worry...." Barbara put her hands on Helen's shoulders and moved her backwards. "Sit down."
Helen felt the toilet seat against her upper calves and sat on the thick, flower-patterned, lavender lid cover. She watched Barbara sink to her knees.
Barbara said, brown eyes shining, "Lean back."
Helen obeyed. She eased back against the matching, covered tank. She let Barbara gently open her slim, naked thighs and come forward to kiss the thin fuzz of dark blonde pubic hair.
Then the young girl's lips slid lower to the moist, glistening slit. The knowing tongue slipped into the sensitive gorge and licked the juices ... touched the clitoris....
Helen moaned openly, and braced her right foot on the edge of the bathtub to relieve the strain on her thigh muscle.
Barbara pulled Helen's other thigh onto her shoulder. She didn't stop licking the now parted slit. Her tongue darted around the large red clitoris, dipped into the slightly gaping vagina, then upward in the wet, pink gorge to the red button.
Helen watched the girl with a kind of amazement at herself and at modem society. How did kids become so sophisticated so young? TV? The New Liberality? Was it a bad thing?"
These thoughts faded under the increasing, sparkling pleasure from Barbara's wonderful tongue. Helen let her wet head rest on the edge of the covered tank top. Her mouth was dragged open by that position. She stared at the smooth, lacquered ceiling with unfocused blue eyes. Each quickening breath became an exhaled moan of delight. She began rolling her head. Her naked belly sucked and bloated. Her inner thigh muscles jumped.
Barbara's tongue danced ever more skillfully on Helen's swollen clitoris. The organ had expanded and hardened to the size of a purple grape.
The girl began a luscious sucking on the vibrant, exquisitely sensitive drop of flesh.
Helen spasmed strongly. She dug fingers into the girl's wet hair and panted quickly, loudly, keening up the scale as the rapture intensified beyond endurance.
The climax passed, leaving her both limp and greedy for more. That one had only taken three or four minutes.
Barbara smiled up at her. "I love you already. You really show what's going down."
"Who could not show it?" Helen stroked Barbara's damp head, combing the clotted hair with her fingers. "You're pretty incredible with your tongue."
The girl glowed. "Want more?"
Helen shivered. "Oh, yes ... but not here. This is too awkward and uncomfortable." She shifted and put her bare feet on the green shag rug between the bowl and the tub. "Let's go into my bedroom."
Barbara nodded, smiling, and got to her feet. "Tommy and Annette'll be busy in the living room for a while, anyway. They won't bother us."
Helen felt a pang of jealousy and anger and curiosity. "Can she take him, all of him?"
"Naw. I don't see how you can. The couple times he's gotten into me it was like having a fist pounding away. It hurt and it scared the shit out of me."
Helen felt superior. "He must like Annette because she must be . so tight." She drew on her robe and led the way out of the bathroom.
She looked into the living room.
Tommy and Annette, both naked, were sprawled on the sofa, watching TV. His cock was long and limp between his thighs. His arm hung around her neck and his hand rested on her large, soft breast.
Tommy saw her and lifted his hand in greeting. "You and Barbara getting it on?"
Barbara said, "And how!"
Helen flushed and turned away toward the bedroom. She heard Tommy say, "We'll be in to join you after a while. This is a great 'Star Trek.' "
Helen shed her robe and climbed onto the big bed. She was surprised to find that Barbara had not followed her in.
Then the girl padded, still naked, into the bedroom, and nudged the door closed with her heel. She carried something wrapped in a small towel. She smiled strangely as she joined Helen on the bed. She tossed the bundle aside, near a pillow. Helen asked, "What's that?"
Barbara shrugged. "That's for later, if you want." She retrieved the bundle and flipped open the towel.
Helen caught her breath. It was a huge, brown, molded dildo....It reminded her. ... She picked it up. The plastic was astonishingly life-like to the touch, and the shape was amazingly life-like. She studied it carefully. Then she became aware of Barbara suppressing a giggle. She asked, "What?"
"That's Tommy. It's a ... a casting from a mold we made of his you-know-what."
Helen looked back at the dildo. Of course! It was an exact replica of his magnificent cock. "How?"
"Oh, it was his idea, naturally. He bought one of those kid kits-the educational kind, you know, and we used the stuff in it to make a special mold, and he bought an extra supply of the plastic from a big toy store ... and he and Annette made the casting. There's a piece of plastic rod inside to keep it stiff. That was the only halfway decent color plastic he could get, I guess. We didn't think you'd go for a green or blue one."
Barbara quirked a smile. "You interested?" Helen's answer was a fraction too late to be honest and convincing. "No, of course not."
"Suuurrre." Barbara took the dildo from Helen's hand and gripped it at the base. She poked the head down between Helen's thighs. "Open up and let me see if you really can take nine inches of this thing."
"No, please, don't." Helen pushed at it, but not with much force. "Just do what you did in the bathroom."
"It embarrasses you, doesn't it? The thing is, I'd kind of dig using it on you ... sort of watch what happens."
Helen yielded. She had thoughts of getting and keeping the thing ... for use in the months ahead. Tonight, she told herself, was the last night she would permit the real thing into her. She said, head lowered, "Maybe later. I'll let you use it later."
"I'll get you all hot and heavy with my tongue, then whip up the ol' plastic stud here ..Barbara laughed. "Wait'll I get a pad and mount and harness so I can wear it like a man." She touched one of Helen's small teacup breasts. "Then you won't need Tommy. All you'll want is me.
She was serious, Helen knew. Romantic and tending more and more to the gay life. What influences could have caused this difference in the twin girls?
Barbara moved close and took Helen into her arms. She kissed Helen and whispered, "Will you go down on me later?"
"I've never done it."
"Will you?"
Helen didn't want to admit she would. She was curious. She responded to strong-willed people-dominant people. She felt an obligation to give to Barbara what the girl had given her. But Helen was ashamed. She whispered, "We'll see."
Barbara took that for a yes. She said, "I'll bet you're very good, just from the way you were turned on by sucking Tommy."
Helen didn't want to talk any more. She wanted to writhe and squirm with pleasure. She wanted what Barbara had promised.
She rolled onto her back and-rare for her-commanded, "Eat me!"
"Ummm! Will I!" Barbara attacked Helen's nipples and breasts with a suctioning mouth and lashing tongue. She ran a middle finger lightly down Helen's concave stomach and into the fuzz on her pubes ... and into the moist hollow, skating the finger on the dewing, puffed lips of the slit.
Helen closed her eyes against the dim yellow light from the bedside lamp. She raised her knees and let her thighs fall wide open. The movement pulled open the lips of her cunt. The big clitoris peeped out of its hood.
Helen's hips jerked smoothly as the familiar finger stroked expertly. She enjoyed the caress and the sweet kissing and sucking of her tingling nipples. She sighed luxuriously.
Soon Barbara shifted lower, and soon Helen was in a near swoon of orgasmic delight from the girl's agile tongue.
Helen's movements became urgent. Her hips jerked in coital thrusts against Barbara's open mouth and spearing tongue.
Barbara lifted her head and whispered, "Almost ready to come?"
"You know I am!"
"Okay, time for ol' plastic Tommy."
"No ... now, now...." But Helen's objections were half-hearted. She didn't move as Barbara reached for the utterly realistic soft plastic casting of Tommy's erect cock.
Barbara nosed the brown glans against Helen's extremely juicy cunt. She twisted and turned the long brown shaft and watched as the head seemed to drill its way into the increasingly gaping slit.
There was slight resistance at the inner mouth, and then the head was in and the tight, rippled tunnel, gooey with secretions and heat, was being invaded, filled, by the replica.
Barbara stared in wonder as the fat inches of dildo disappeared into Helen's cunt. "Gawd...." She kept on twisting and working the shaft, pressing, pressing....She had to constantly grip further back.
Helen lay with her eyes covered by the crook of her arm. Her cunt loved the massive artificial cock, the deep invasion. ... The special spot was being touched now. Pressed....
Helen gasped and drew her knees up-to her breasts. She clasped the underside of her thighs. She whispered tremulously, "Fuck me...."
Barbara had to shift to a better position. She got up on her knees, sat on her heels, and took the end of the huge cock-thing in both hands. She pulled and shoved, in and out....
To Helen the feel of it was amazingly real. Except that the plastic was cool, and there wasn't the presence of Tommy, the weight of him, the powerful, sinewy young male body to clasp and interact with.
Barbara was being very tentative and gentle with the implement. She was afraid of hurting Helen. She still couldn't believe the small woman could take that much cock.
Helen said breathlessly, "Faster ... deeper ... harder."
"Geez ... Okay." Barbara began to really use her strength to drive the dildo hard up into Helen's tensing, sucking belly. Her eyes widened as another inch was engulfed. She was holding onto the unfinished, rounded base end. Helen was taking ALL of it now.
Barbara's fist began to smack the distended, glistening, gaping slit. The knuckles of her thumbs slapped the exposed, naked clitoris.
This new, exquisitely pleasurable stimulus . drove Helen into a wild, panting, screaming, contorting, thrashing ecstasy.
Barbara was frightened. She stopped. She thought Helen had ruptured inside or something.
But Helen raised her quivering head, blue eyes vague with pleasure and blazing with need. "NO! DON'T STOP!" Then she dug fingers into her hair and sank flat on the bed again, and grabbed her legs to pull them tight against her chest as Barbara used both hands to thrust the huge plastic cock.
Helen's continuing loud, quivering groans and quavering screams brought Tommy and Annette into the bedroom.
Tommy said, "What the hell's going on?"
Then he took in the scene and grinned. "Far out."
"No," panted Barbara as she worked hard with straining arms, "Far in!"
Tommy and Annette laughed and watched Helen's helpless paroxysms. Tommy said, half-contemptuously, "Shit, it's almost obscene the way she enjoys it."
Helen knew they were there, watching, commenting. She heard, but she was beyond caring. She was in the vise-grip of her tremendous lust, of the overpowering pleasure that rocked her mind and body. The thing that was fucking her, pounding in her cunt, exploding her mind with tremendous surges of ecstasy, was all that mattered now, for as long as her nervous energy could sustain the level of response ... as long as her cunt could endure the awesome fucking.
She lay on her back, clutching her knees to her shoulders with clawing, straining hands, her face contorted, eyes bulging, mouth twisted in a tortured grimace, grunting-screaming-wailing as Barbara used all her strength to ram the plastic cock in and in and in to its full length, against the clenching, spasming resistance of the deep, muscled vagina, and against the battered posterior wall of the channel, against the super-sensitive cervix.
Barbara said, "My arms are about to fall off!"
"She can't take that much longer."
"I hope not."
Helen was in a delirium. She had never been this far gone for so long! She had never had a cock like this plunging so far for so long a time. She felt her nerves approaching exhaustion. Her brain was like a cinder; she couldn't continue to experience this intensity of emotional and physical sensation.
Helen whimpered and wailed, "Ohhhhh ... stop! No more, no more ... no ... more...." Barbara let go of the dildo and sank back, wiped out. "That's too much work!"
Annette smiled, "You sure you want to be so butchy gay now?"
"Oh, shut up!"
They watched as Helen quieted. Her naked, sweaty belly stopped bloating and sucking. Her hands let her legs slip forward. The massive dildo slowly, slowly was extruded, slippery from her juices, from her distended cunt. When her legs came forward more inches oozed from her contracting vagina.
Helen lay completely limp, arms outstretched, palms up. She stared vaguely at the ceiling. As the rapture faded like a receding tide it seemed to uncover a beach of pain. Her lower abdomen was a vast ache, with shards of agony piercing her awareness every few seconds, when she tried to move. It felt like her cunt was lined with broken glass.
She realized she could never let that happen again. It was too extreme-she lost control. She was too vulnerable ... too greedy. Like an alcoholic. She was a cockaholic? Unable to resist a big one? Unable to stop when the pleasure reached a certain intensity for a certain length of time?
What kind of sex life did that leave her? Wasn't it better to live gluttonously, die young, and have a good-looking corpse? Why not? Why not? What did she have to look forward to that was so great?
A deep lassitude closed Helen's eyes. She sighed.
Barbara said resentfully, "Hey, what about me? Don't you go to sleep."
Tommy chuckled. "You did too good a job on Mom. But I'll take care of you."
"Like hell, unless you want to go down."
"Sure. We can work it out. I'll screw Annie and lick you at the same time."
"Acrobatics I don't want." Barbara pulled the dildo from Helen's cunt. It made a wet, sucking sound. She rolled the device into the towel and handed it to Tommy. Here's your son."
"Yeah, she just gave birth to him." Everyone snickered.
Annette climbed onto the bed beside Helen. "Come on, Tommy, I'm ready for some fun." She reached out and palmed his long, soft cock.
She closed her fingers around it and gently pulled. "Come on."
He grinned and got onto the bed, too. His cock began to harden. He let his hand dangle into Helen's loose, wet crotch. He fingered her slit. "Mom? Watch me and Annie."
Helen turned her head and opened tired blue eyes. "Go ahead. I'll watch."
Barbara said, "Shit, if you can watch them you can lick me!" She moved up beside Helen and swung her right leg over Helen's chest. She presented Helen with her pussy. "You owe me now."
Helen nodded and tried to rally some energy. "I wish I had a cup of hot black strong coffee first."
"No, no fair. Do me now."
Helen sighed and lethargically lifted her mouth to Barbara's slightly open pussy. This would be her first and only attempt to satisfy another woman, this way, and she should have been more excited and interested, but in her exhaustion and pain the effort was a chore.
She extended her tongue and licked the moist pussy lips. She didn't find the taste repulsive at all. She delved into Barbara's slit and found the small, tight entrance to the vagina.
She asked Barbara to hold her head up or wedge a pillow under it. Her neck muscles were tired already.
Barbara laced her fingers under Helen's head. She pulled Helen's face up firmly against her crotch. "Now do it good."
Helen tried very hard to do it good. She had trouble breathing through the mat of silky, curly brown hair. But she explored the girl's young slit with her tongue, and found the clitoris-a tiny pinhead-high up in a deep crevice of protective labia.
When Helen's tongue-tip found the small, sensitive cluster of pleasure nerves, Barbara inhaled sharply.
"That's it. There!"
Helen began a simple stabbing of her tongue into the pink crevice. She tried to give her tongue-tip a little flip when it contracted the tiny clit, but wasn't always successful in making that special technique work.
But she did it often enough to cause Barbara to tighten her grip on Helen's head and begin squirming her pussy against Helen's mouth. "Oh, woweee...."
Helen could look up the slope of Barbara's flexing, fleshy belly, to the full, swaying white breasts. The nipples were like Barbara's clitoris-very small, not fully developed.
But, judging from the response to the clit licking, the nipples also would be sensitive. Helen didn't want to find out. She had no desire. She only wanted to fulfill her obligation to the girl and leave the bedroom for something to drink-coffee or a Pepsi. She was very thirsty, she realized.
Barbara pulled Helen's face tighter and tighter to her pussy. Barbara was panting, squirming with a fluid hip-belly-shoulder movement, with her head down, watching Helen's face with hypnotic intensity.
Helen met the girl's harsh, fixed gaze. In her mind she begged, Come! Come! Get it over with!
Barbara seemed to growl in her throat, and then she quivered the length of her body. The quiver came again, and again, a rippling, snake-like shuddering.
Then Barbara seemed to go loose. She let Helen's head slip from her hands. She slumped over, breathing deeply.
Helen heard Tommy and Annette going at it, next to her. She hadn't heard before because Barbara's palms had covered her ears.
Helen struggled futilely under Barbara's crushing weight, dead weight, on her chest. "Get ... off, please." She could hardly get air into her lungs.
Tommy reached over and pushed Barbara off of Helen. "Let her up, clot head."
Barbara nearly fell off the bed on her back. She saved herself and sat up. "Go fuck an ostrich! That's about the only thing you haven't fucked."
Tommy grinned. He winked at his mother.
"Friendship. We talk like we hate each other, but we don't."
Barbara sent him a dagger look but didn't contradict him. Annette was under Tommy, impaled by his huge cock, open-mouthed, whining, as he fucked slowly, sliding only about half his length into her shallow pussy before obviously touching bottom. She was gripping his neck, trying to pull him down for a kiss.
Helen watched and wondered to herself why she wasn't jealous. This afternoon she had been. Not now. She didn't want to analyze things. She painfully left the bed with Annette's climax in her ears, and went to the kitchen.
The waft of cold air from the refrigerator felt nice on her warm, sweaty body. She took a Pepsi because coffee was too much trouble.
She slumped carefully into the overstuffed armchair by the TV and swigged deep, gulping mouthfuls of the throat-burning carbonated drink.
She heard Barbara go into the bathroom and shut the door.
She heard Annette climax again, and Tommy's triumphant, egotistic laugh and comment.
She wanted to dress, get on a buss and go ... anywhere! And leave this house and Tommy and everything. God, to be free of this mess she had gotten herself into!
She stared down at her aching belly. She whispered, "It's all your fault!" and smiled wryly. The human condition, she decided, was impossible to live with.
But the only alternative was fatal.
Helen sighed deeply. She drained the Pepsi. What now?
"MOM!" Tommy called from the bedroom. It wasn't an alarm call, it was a peremptory, selfish call. A spoiled child's call.
Helen got slowly, carefully, to her feet and went back to the bedroom.
When she entered she saw that Tommy was really fucking Annette, hot and heavy, plunging his massive cock into her as far as he could, making her cry out and try to interpose a hand between her pussy and his driving loins.
Helen hurried to the bed. "Tommy! Don't injure her!"
He stopped. "I've screwed Annie lots of times as hard as this. She likes it."
Annette lay steamy-eyed, gasping. She said faintly, "I don't mind. I get off five or six times when he gets going like that. It hurts, but it's good ... it makes me go shivery all over...." Tommy still had his cock deep in the girl. Helen could see it was at its greatest expansion and hardness. She asked, "Why did you call me?"
"I want you to finish me."
"I can't! I'm just too sore inside."
"I mean suck me. You suck better than anybody, Mom." He smiled and grinned. "I want you to show Annie and Barb how you do it-the deep throat trick."
Helen licked her lips. "If I do ... it'll be for the last time. There'll be no more after tonight."
"Yeah, sure." He grinned and didn't believe she could mean it for more than a few days.
"I mean it, Tommy!"
"Okay, okay. How do you want to do it now?" Helen realized she didn't even want to suck him now. But ... enough of her previous lust for his cock, and enough pride and wish to show off, still existed in her mind to let her do it-just one more time. Get it over with.
Helen said, "I'm so damn sore inside...." She got onto the bed and experimented briefly with the kneeling position she had used in doing it before. But there was knife-like pain when she bent forward, in her loins, and she finally had to say. "I can't."
"Sure you can! I want you to do it!"
She almost shouted to him to go to hell. But old psychological attitudes and obsessions die hard. She tried to accommodate him. "If I ... if I lay on my stomach, with a lot of pillows under my chest ... so my head is at the edge of the bed...." She added, shame-faced, "Then you can stand up and ... provide the movement."
Tommy frowned as he tried to visualize what she was saying. His frown cleared and he smiled. "Yeah. I like that. I'll screw you in the mouth and throat."
Helen flushed, aware of the stares of the twins. Why was she doing this? She perceived, deep in her soul, that she was paying off a debt. Balancing the scales, paying, somehow, for earlier willing sin with this later reluctant sin. Maybe she felt she owed this to Tommy. Had she led him to expect this?
Anyway, the inner bargain she had made with herself held; anything goes this night. Nothing afterward! Not ever again, with her son ... or with any boy ... or girl.
She asked Barbara to go into the living room for a big tapestry pillow on the carpet near the window.
Tommy pulled out of Annette and stood impatiently beside the bed, his immense cock hanging out terrifyingly far from his loins, bobbing and swaying heavily with his slightest move, menacing, wet, thick.
Helen couldn't take her eyes from it. In spite of her new attitude and resolve, a stirring of excitement came to her cunt, and a strange fear slimed her guts.
Annette handed her the two bed pillows. Barbara came back to the bedroom with the big, fat tapestry pillow.
Helen carefully waded the big living room pillow under her chest. Her nipples came alive against the rough tapestry weave. She wedged the soft bed pillows under her upper chest and chin.
She was angled upward now, with her head a foot above the mattress. Her mouth was now level with Tommy's loins. His huge, ponderous cock loomed before her eyes.
He asked, "Okay now? Ready?"
Helen licked her lips and nodded. She opened her mouth.
Tommy grinned and looked to the twins. "Watch this. Mom's really incredible." He fed Helen the big glans and two inches of shaft.
Helen closed her eyes. The view of Tommy's muscled belly wasn't inspiring. She suckled on the four inches of hard, slippery cock and tasted Annette's juices. But that acidy flavor was soon gone.
An urgent thought came. She reared back. His cock fell stiffly from her mouth. She looked up and said, "Be sure and let me breathe. Don't stay all the way in too long at any one time."
"Don't worry." He slipped his cock into her mouth again. He flipped his strong hips, driving the glans deep into her constricting, resisting throat.
Helen fought the ever present gag reflex. She fought to relax her throat muscles, but they, in turn, fought with instinctive fear to reject, to kill the thick intruder.
She felt nausea and an urge to vomit. She hadn't experienced this before, this strong. Her whole system seemed to be against this act.
Tommy held her head firmly with both hands. He lost his smile. He breathed shallowly, raggedly. He plunged his cock deeper and deeper in his mother's clenching, struggling throat. He pulled back reluctantly, to let her suck air into her starved lungs.
Helen sensed something different in his manner. There was no love or affection in his behavior now. He was almost brutally fucking her throat. The choking, thick bulk was being rammed in and in, sunk deep till her face was butted by his hard belly, pubes, and his heavy scrotum swung against her chin. Her jaws ached from holding her mouth wide open to the point of near dislocation.
He was showing aggression, hate for her. His hands gripped her head mercilessly. His huge cock was driven full length down her throat.
He wasn't giving her time to breathe properly. Her lungs burned for air!
Helen knew real fear. She began to struggle weakly. But his grip was too strong. He was hunched forward, fucking her mouth brutally, fast, thrusting quick and deep, panting with extreme, concentrated,, blind, thoughtless lust.
Her lungs burned! She hit at his legs with last-ditch desperation. She tried to make urgent sounds, but his gasping, near-climax groans drowned out her weak gurgling.
Barbara saw the situation. "Tommy, stop! You're strangling her!"
But he was beyond hearing, beyond control. It would have taken a bullet to the heart to stop him.
Helen was losing consciousness in a red haze of agonizing oxygen starvation when he gave a guttural moan and spurted halfway down her throat.
Her body began to convulse. He held her and fucked and spurted for endless, mindless seconds.
Barbara was clawing at him, shouting. Annette, too, was shoving at him, slapping his face.
Then Tommy came out of his lust-trance. His face lost its mask quality. His eyes cleared. He staggered back under the girl's attack. His cock pulled free of Helen's throat and mouth.
Helen drew a choking, gurgling breath. She was wracked by liquid coughs. Semen had entered her windpipe. She rolled off the pillows and coughed helplessly, struggling for air, expelling what little she could draw.
But gradually she quieted and drew deep, grateful lungfuls of air.
She turned over and saw the girls, obviously relieved that she was okay. Tommy was sitting on the other side of the bed, scowling peevishly, rubbing scratches on his cheek.
Helen said weakly, hoarsely, "That's it." She stared at her son for a long, silent moment.
He cringed under her gaze. "I'm sorry, Mom. I guess I just got carried away."
Barbara said, "We nearly had to carry her away, you shithead!"
"Well, it was her fault. She wanted to do it that way!"
Helen carefully eased off the bed. She walked slowly, gingerly, out of the bedroom, into the bathroom. She tried to ignore the mirror. She gargled and let some of the liquid trickle down her throat. It soothed the bruised tissues.
She ran a deep, hot tub full of water and settled into it.
Tommy rapped on the bathroom door. "Can I come in a minute?"
"If it's important."
He entered. He stood looking down at her. He was still naked. His long cock, soft now, swung loosely between his thighs. "The girls want to go home. They want me to walk them."
Helen nodded. After one glance she refused to look at him. There were too many strong emotions surfacing in her mind and body.
He hesitated. "You're really mad at me, huh?"
"Take them home. When you get back I'll be in bed, sleeping! Don't bother me. We'll talk tomorrow."
Tommy started to say something, thought better of it, pouted his lower lip, and went out.
Helen closed her eyes and basked in the steaming water. The tub was wide enough and long enough for her to float in.
A few minutes later Barbara and Annette came in. Tommy, characteristically, had neglected to close the door when he left. The girls were dressed.
Barbara said, "We're really glad nothing bad happened."
Annette said impulsively, "That was a sick scene. I won't ever let anybody do something like that to me!"
Barbara echoed the vow.
Helen said, "Good. It's stupid and dangerous. Even if you're in complete control, it's stupid-and dangerous. It was ... grandstanding. I learned a lot tonight. I'm sorry I was so idiotic as to have to learn it." Annette nodded. "Well ... we just wanted to tell you, you know. We don't-"
Barbara said quickly, "We won't be coming over here anymore." She lowered her voice. "We're cutting loose from Tommy. We've had our eyes opened plenty wide."
"Good." Helen closed her eyes again, and floated.
Barbara blurted, "It was his idea to take those pictures!"
Helen smiled wearily. "I know, it's all Tommy's fault."
"No, but he...."
Tommy appeared in the doorway, dressed in jeans and a yellow sweatshirt. "Come on, let's go-"
They went.
Helen couldn't completely let go until she heard the front door close and click. She stared at the tiled wall above the water faucets and tears rolled down her cheeks.
She began to sob. Then deep, wracking sobs into her hands that shook her body and hurt her throat. For a few, rage-filled seconds she beat the hot water with her fists and screamed, "FOOL! FOOL! FOOL!"
Then she continued crying, until the water cooled a bit and she felt a need for something to eat and drink. She sniffled and slowly climbed from the tub.
Twenty minutes later she lay in the dark, the door to her bedroom closed and locked. She nibbled on a piece of cheese and sipped a glass of ice water.
She froze when Tommy returned. But he didn't approach her door. He went to his room and slammed his door viciously.
Helen managed a smile. She drifted off to sleep.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
It was easy to avoid talking about what-had happened. Tommy didn't bring it up, and Helen was content to forget it had happened.
For a week, Tommy was her son and she was his mother. Nothing more. He didn't even hint about sex. He didn't look at her and grin in that certain way.
At work, she learned all the systems and routines of the office. She took over completely from Jenny. She grew to like and admire Pete Kincaid a great deal. He was an intelligent, conscientious, completely professional plumber.
And he obviously liked her more and more.
Helen knew that sooner or later he would broach sex with her. She didn't know how she'd react. Her soreness was almost gone, physically, but she was leery, now, of the possibility of his having an exceptionally large cock.
She had faced the truth that she couldn't take someone as large as Tommy on a regular basis.
And then Tommy made a move....
She was home after work, in the kitchen, peeling a couple of potatoes with a small, thin paring knife, when Tommy came in and pressed up against her from behind. His hands came around her waist and pressed low on her stomach. They threatened to go lower ... or higher, to her breasts.
He said brightly, "Hi, Mom. How do you feel?"
Meaning, she knew, are your cunt and throat back to normal?
She said guardedly, "Better."
His hands moved confidently upward, sliding onto her small, pointed, loose breasts in her blouse. "I figured about a week. You must be-"
She turned with the paring knife and poked it into his stomach.
"OW! Hey-" He backed off instantly.
"Tommy, I told you, no more sex with me! I meant it. I mean it now, and I'll mean it a week, a month, and a year from now. That's over! Do you understand?"
"Just because I got carried away for a minute, and-"
"Do you understand?"
He pouted and rubbed his stomach where she had pricked him. "I guess so. I just don't see why. I mean ... shit, just because that one time ... and you wanted it that way ... and you dig me screwing you so much. You really turn on when I get going good, you know you do."
"Not any more!"
"You say it, but you've got to be getting horny pretty soon. What you going to do, go back to the vibrator and a couple dozen cucumbers a month?"
"Tommy-"
"That can run into money."
"Shut up!" She glared at him. She had known it would be this way, convincing him. "What I do sexually is none of your business. I let myself get involved with you, and ... It was an insane fling that I'll never forget, and I'll never repeat!"
"But-"
"What we did was wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong! Socially, psychologically, and morally. On every level. It doesn't work. It warps everybody, that sort of thing. It twists relationships, attitudes-everything. You're too young to handle it and I'm ... I'm too set in my conscience."
Tommy shifted from one foot to the other. "Well, what am I supposed to do for ... sex? You soured Annette and Barbara for me. They won't do anything with me anymore. You owe me...."
Helen shook her head. "Find a girl who can take you, honey. And don't abuse her. Don't be so selfish and arrogant."
"Oh, shit!" He spun and stalked out of the kitchen.
Helen heard him slam into his room. A few seconds later his stereo blasted to life. The floor reverberated from the thumping bass.
Helen sighed and turned back to the potatoes. He'd probably sulk for a few days ... maybe try once more ... but the main scene was done. She felt glad. She felt at ease within herself again. She had guilty memories, but she could live with them. They'd fade, lose their power, as the years passed.
And someday Tommy would be glad she'd cut the affair off. He'd probably wish she'd never let it begin.
It had occurred because of her weakness, not his strength.
She stared down into the peelings in the sink. She knew she was going to have a problem in about another week. Her needs were not dead.
She wasn't ashamed of wanting, needing, loving sex. She didn't think orgasms were the work of the devil. But she realized as she never had before that she had to choose her next man with great care.
And if she couldn't find a man who was right?
Well ... there was always the cucumbers..........and there was always the vibrator ... and there was always the plastic replica of Tommy's cock which she had found on the floor behind the bed, three days ago. It was in the closet-waiting.
Helen decided she could use that thing with discretion and care, without shame or guilt. But not for a while.
She would seek a good real man, first.
Solitary sex was only a last resort. But there was nothing inherently immoral about it, if a person was obliged to go that route, by circumstances, or by character and personality.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
It began with Pete Kincaid four days later. Helen was working overtime to complete the month's billings.
Pete came in through the back. He was dirty and stinking from a sewer job. He didn't see Helen immediately as he headed for the instant coffee maker by the file cabinets. He muttered to himself, .. Cocksucker doesn't know enough to-"
He saw Helen at the desk. He smiled widely. "Sorry, didn't see you." He poured himself a mug of the hot, black, strong coffee. "It's after five."
"I wanted to get the statements finished. I'll drop them in the mailbox on the way home."
"Thanks. You're conscientious. Rare." He smiled and slurped his coffee as he came over to sit on the edge of her desk. "I like you."
Helen's throat tightened. She met his level brown gaze. "I like you."
"You want to wait while I take a shower and change? We can go somewhere for a drink."
"All right. I'd like that."
"Be ten minutes." He headed for the workshop. There was a small shower there, in the corner.
Helen watched him leave the office. She liked his tall, lean build. She liked the look of his big, strong hands. She liked his self-possession and competence.
After she had stuffed the last seven envelopes, stamped them, and snapped a rubber band around the thick bundle of bills to be dumped in the mail, she covered the typewriter, put on her shoes, stood up and got her shorty coat from the rack by the window. She heard the shower. She went back to the workshop.
Pete was still in the shower. She saw clouds of steam wafting up over the stall. She found a clean stool by a parts bin and sat.
Her stomach felt icky. She kept licking her lips. She tried to ignore the simmering in her cunt. She didn't ache there anymore. That special place was hungry to be pressed and pounded again.
But not by Tommy! Never again by Tommy. That was a closed chapter in her life.
Secretly, Helen was hoping Pete Kincaid would be the next chapter ... maybe the remainder of the book of her life.
She gripped her purse with nervous fingers. Her blue eyes kept darting to the shower, to the old, broken-down sofa in the corner by the hot water heater. His clean clothes were laid out on the faded green cushions.
The shower stopped. Pete stepped out onto the mat. He sang softly to himself, "Molly Mallard was never too 'tard' to take a foot of prick. She was a cinch but she charged by the inch, and-"
Helen sat transfixed by the sight of his tall, wiry body. He was hung like a bull!
He saw her. He didn't move quickly to cover his nakedness. There was a three second pause as he stared at her and understood the significance of her presence. Their eyes met and locked.
Helen dropped her gaze. She was breathing fast.
He took a big red towel from a hook on the wall next to the shower. "Just curiosity?"
Helen lifted her eyes. "No. Yes, partly." She watched him dry himself. There was no modesty in him. No showing off, either.
He smiled. "Jenny told you about me."
"A little."
He nodded. The sadness was in his deep brown eyes. "Great tourist attraction."
"No ... Pete, I'm not just ... looking." Helen felt a flush creep up her neck to her face. "My husband was a large man ... and I could easily...."
Pete stopped drying his legs. He straightened up. He stared at her.
Helen kept her chin up in spite of the hot blood heating her face. She met his eyes. When he smiled she burst into laughter, jumped off the stool and ran into his arms.
Pete was very strong. He lifted her easily and cupped her rump with one big hand and wrist. Her legs were wide, wrapped around his naked hips. Her short skirt was rucked to her upper thighs. She clung to his neck.
They kissed.
Helen immediately lost herself in his arms and mouth. It was not a french kiss. But his mouth was strong and open and demanding in a different way. His mouth possessed her.
Helen became a mass of warm jelly inside. She pressed her breasts against his hard chest and played with his graying, shaggy brown hair. She was breathless when he pulled his mouth away.
Pete carried her to the sofa. He sat at one end with her still in his arms. He kissed her again, leaving her weak and willing. She felt a firm presence prodding up against her rump.
He said, "You'd better see what you have to contend with before we go any further." He lifted her up and deposited her beside him on the middle cushion.
His cock was even longer than Tommy's, but not nearly as thick. Jenny had exaggerated that aspect of it. Pete's was slender for its length, and the glans was small, a purplish wedge at the end. He watched Helen's face. "Impossible?"
"How long is it?" She wanted to reach out and touch it, hold it, stroke it. But, she felt inhibited. She didn't know what he liked, how she should act.
"Want to measure?" He reached to the workbench next to the sofa and handed her a metal tape measure.
Helen saw the twinkle in his eyes. She quirked an answering, take-a-dare smile. She asked, "Is it as hard as it gets?"
"Yes. You have inspired it to its full length."
"Good. I'm flattered." She laughed with him. She applied the end of the tape to his crinkly, brown-gray haired pubic bone at the base of his cock. She ran out inches of the tape....
Helen stared at the inch mark opposite the tip of his glans. Ten inches. Plus an eighth.
"Was your husband that long?"
"No. I can't take all of you." She let the tape coil itself back into the case. "If you have to get it all into me."
He nodded. "Ahh ... intelligence and perspective and knowledge in a woman. I'm surprised." He put his arm around her. "Almost every woman who sees me this way gets a certain look of pure terror in her eyes."
He leaned forward and looked into Helen's eyes. "But not you."
"I'm only about one inch terrified. But that one inch...."
Pete raised an eyebrow. "More surprise. Your husband was quite a man-and you are an unusual woman."
Helen put aside the tape measure and boldly took his cock in her left hand. "Pete, I don't think you're the kind of man who likes to hurt women. You wouldn't try to sink every bit into me just to prove your manhood and make me squeal with pain. You're not a show-off. I know I can trust you."
"Thank you. You're remarkable."
Helen played with him. She loved the feel of him in her hand. She loved to feel the throb of his heart and the slight jerk that coincided with the heartbeat ... the aliveness.
Pete began to undress her.
Helen wordlessly cooperated. In a moment she stood before him in her panties. Her naked breasts were warm little pears, glowing, as his big, powerful hands covered them, fondled them with surprising gentleness. He played with her popcorn nipples but didn't pinch hard to make her react.
Her cunt was a long, deep channel of itching need in her belly.
Pete inched her panties down off her slim hips.
When the filmy nylon was a puddle at her feet, she stepped free of them and went to her knees on the old scrap of carpet in front of the sofa. She moved between his long, skinny thighs. She filled both hands with his cock. She began to lower her head....
Pete stopped her. "No, Helen. I'm old-fashioned. I don't like oral loving."
She accepted that. She simply nodded and moved up to sit beside him. She might have guessed he felt that way. It was part of his basic, very straight character.
Pete kissed her and turned her weak and breathless again. He arranged her on the sofa so that her head rested on the sofa arm. He parted her legs and moved close.
Helen raised her knees to make entry easier. She was tremendously excited and eager and a bit scared. She wanted him inside her very, very much. She wanted him to be happy with her, to take pleasure from her body. She wanted desperately to give him pleasure, to see his long, narrow, sad face transfigured by ecstasy.
Their eyes met and held as he came into her. She moaned as the long inches filled her. "Oh, Pete...."
He stopped pressing forward when he felt a slight resistance. "Too much?"
"Oh, no." She reached up and trailed her fingers along his lantern jaw. She could sense how much was in her. She didn't feel pain. He felt good in her. So nice and deep. There was no stretching discomfort due to extreme thickness, as with Tommy. She said, "A little more, please."
"Not just because-"
"No, I want it. It doesn't hurt. I'll let you know. I will. I'm not trying to prove anything."
Helen reached in between them to touch and know. She was astonished at how little she didn't have in her hot, slippery vagina. How was it possible? She was taking over nine inches without discomfort.
Then she divined the reason she could take so much bulk, and it could be a very thick eight inches, or a thin ... ten inches? The thicker a man was built the less depth was possible.
George hadn't quite filled her. Tommy had too much thickness for comfort, and almost too much length. He had stretched her to the absolute limit, making her sore for days afterward.
But Pete. ... She knew she could take all of him. That extra inch would be heaven for them both. She needed to feel that almost-pain in her deepest, sensitive place.
She urged Pete inward.
He pressed against her loins. He watched her face.
Helen's eyes closed. Her cheek twitched. She made a soft, wondering Oooo sound. She sighed.
"Yes ... darling Pete ... oh, yes...." She drew her knees higher. Her belly spasmed. His loins were flush with hers, in tight, juicy contact. His ten inches were totally buried in her hot, pulsing cunt.
He whispered, "I don't believe it! I don't believe it!" He kissed her adoringly.
Helen felt glorious. She tightened her arms around him. "We were made for each other."
After a moment he began to move in her. At first slowly, tentatively, then more confidently, longer surges, more quickly, more powerfully. Thrusts. Thrusts. THRUSTS!
Helen loved it! She roamed her hands over his back, over his plunging hips and tight, powerful buttocks. Sweet, galvanizing tides of pleasure rose and fell in her guts, waves of ecstasy crashed and broke in her loins to spread through her tingling body.
She climaxed seemingly every minute! She moaned, "Darling, yes ... yes ... yes...." Her universe was narrowed to the delicious, killing thrusts of his ten-inch cock, to the honeyed sparkle each thrust created in that deep-deep-secret spot.
He pressed and nudged and tickled and kissed inside, and there was no heavy battering of her cervix, no painful extension.
Helen knew they could do this for hours, every day, and there would be no soreness, no lingering pain.
He was the one perfect man for her. He was a real man!
Pete sought her willing, eager, heated mouth as he kept on thrusting ... He panted with his exertion and lust. "I've ... never ... had ... a ... woman ... like ... you...."
She gasped, "We've found each other. Oh, God! I'm coming again!"
She dug fingers into the sweaty, muscled small of his lean back. Her wail of completion was from the soul. "Don't stop! Don't stop! Get your own pleasure! Make it, darling, make it, make it, make it! Oh, please come. Pete, please come in me!"
She braced her feet in the crevice between the cushions and began to move even more erotically under him. She thrust herself up to meet his incredible spearing thrusts. Her pleasure was lava-like now, hot, boiling, urgent.
Pete was breathing in great, sucking lungfuls of air. His brown eyes were closed. His big jaw was set, his teeth showed in a tortured grimace. He grunted, "Helen-"
His thrusts became wild, crushing lunges. She clutched him tighter, took his great plunges with wide-open thighs, with eager leaps of her hips. Their loins smacked wetly.
She was crying with joy and completion when she felt his first heavy jet of semen and heard him bellow with his own ecstasy.
The sofa creaked and the cushions added a cry of pressured springs. Neither Pete nor Helen was aware of anything but the rapture of their fantastic love-making. In that climactic moment an atomic bomb could not have ruptured their embrace. They were one.
They knew perfection and ultimate happiness.
He slowed and she slowed, and they relaxed and opened their eyes and sighed and smiled into each other's souls.
Words were useless.
Helen held him lovingly in the embrace of her arms and thighs. In her belly he softened until she couldn't feel his size.
Pete's breathing evened and calmed. He said, "I don't want to move."
"Don't. I can't think of anything better to do."
He chuckled. "A drink?"
"My body has just had the sweetest drink a man can give it."
He kissed Helen. He had to hunch to reach her lips. She was like a child under his long, naked body. He said gently, wonderingly, "Yes, I think we have found each other. It took a long time, for me."
She smiled and touched his face. "I loved George, very much, but I wish I'd met you seventeen years ago."
He nodded. "Well. It's now that counts. It's always now that's important. And right now ... I think...." He began a renewed, smooth, slippery coital movement. He smiled.
Helen felt him again, hardening, lengthening, touching the deepest places. "Oh, Pete, you marvelous man!"
They moved together with greater love.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
When she got home later, with the flush of ecstasy with Pete still tingling in her body, with love in her eyes, Helen entered Tommy's room as he lay on his bed listening to his too-loud stereo.
He wore only his shorts, his huge cock was prominently displayed, but Helen had no thoughts for it.
"Honey ... I'm sorry I'm late. I'll make supper in a minute. I just wanted to tell you I've invited Pete-Mr. Kincaid ... my boss at the shop ... to dinner."
Tommy's head came up. He looked at her closely. "I'll bet he's got a prick longer than I have. You talk funny."
Helen blinked. "Don't talk that way. He's very nice and I want you to behave when he's around."
"That sounds like he's special. That's why you won't do anything with me anymore. I'll bet he's very special in a certain department."
Helen felt herself blushing. She snapped, "I told you I don't want you talking that way to me! That area of my life is none of your business!"
She turned away before he could notice her flush. "I'm just asking you to be nice to him. I like him a lot. Maybe an awful lot."
Helen hurried from Tommy's room. Tommy mockingly called after her, "Eleven inches? Twelve?"
Helen hated her son, then, for a brief flare of time. He would not allow him to interfere with her love for Pete, or Pete's love for her.
As she stood in the kitchen, irresolute for a moment, she was amazed at the total commitment she felt for Pete. And amazed at his swift, total dedication to her. Two hours of love-making and now....
Was it real? Was it only an infatuation based on sex? She was scared. Pete was so terribly important to her now. So suddenly. He was the whole world. He was her salvation, her future.
Helen hugged the memories of their time together. She hummed and sang as she prepared the meal.
Pete arrived at eight-ten.
Helen kissed him passionately at the door. She stood on tiptoes, but he still had to stoop far over. He smiled and said, "We must make a crazy picture-Mutt and Jeff."
She poked him in the ribs. "Be glad I don't have a mustache." She took his big, strong hand and led him into the living room, "I want you to meet Tommy. I hope you can make allowances for him-he's been acting sullen tonight. He knows I like you."
"Sure. Kids get jealous."
Helen closed her eyes for a second in silent prayer. Her heart was thudding. She called, "Tommy! Would you come meet-"
Tommy appeared in the hall doorway. He had been listening. Had he witnessed the kiss?
He lounged insolently against the door jamb. "Yeah?" He didn't move forward. He stared critically at Pete.
A sinking feeling came to Helen. "Come here and meet Pete. I want you two to like each other."
Tommy didn't move.
Pete said, "I've heard a lot about you, Tom." Tommy snickered. His eyes flicked to Helen. "No you haven't."
She said desperately, "Tommy, honey, please be ... don't be rude.".
He made a face and slouched forward. He stuck out his hand and Pete took it. There was a very brief contest of strength, then Tommy yielded, whining, "Hey, you don't have to break my bones!"
Pete said, "It was your idea, Tom." He released Tommy's hand and turned to Helen. "Sorry I kept you late at the office. Is that meat-loaf I smell?"
She brightened. "Yes! And string beans and baked potatoes and a tossed salad and coffee and ice cream for dessert if you want."
"Not much for sweets. But the meal sounds right down my alley."
When they were at the table, eating, Tommy said, "You're a plumber, huh?"
Pete nodded.
"You must be rich, the way you guys charge for service calls and everything."
Pete smiled and didn't answer.
"What is it now, forty bucks minimum? Twenty bucks an hour? Something like that? Real rip-off racket, huh?"
Helen said, "Tommy, for heaven's sake. Pete's our guest!"
"He's your guest."
Pete said calmly, "Tom, you're a snot-nosed, smart-alecky kid who needs his ass whipped. You'll have to learn basic courtesy pretty damn quick for me and for your mother."
"Why for you?"
"Because your mother and I are getting serious about each other. And I'm an old-fashioned man when it comes to respect and discipline and morality."
Tommy grinned. "Yeah?"
"Yeah. Keep that in mind." Pete helped himself to another slice of meatloaf. "This is the best I've had in years."
Tommy smirked at his plate. "I'll keep it in mind, all right."
Helen's dread returned, full force.
But Tommy was reasonably well behaved for the balance of the meal. He seemed amused about something, and frequently grinned at Helen.
As Pete helped her with the clean-up and with the dishes, despite her protests, he said, after Tommy had gone to his room, "That kid is asking for it."
"I know. He's turning wild."
"Well, if things work out for us, I'll have to put the fear of God in him a couple times. You'll have to back me up."
"Oh, willingly! He needs a father ... a strong man to look up to."
"First he'll look down-at the floor. I expect he'll need to have a switch taken to him."
"A switch?"
He smiled. "Told you I was old-fashioned. This country's going to have to come back to the old, basic virtues, or we'll go down the tube. Nothing but big daddy government and eventual slavery. Small businessmen like me will go, then the unions, then the statistics'll have everybody with any power and independence under their blood-sucking thumbs."
"I suppose you're right."
"I am about Tom. About the situation in America, too, I think. I feel strongly about it." Helen had no interest at all in politics or economics. She said dutifully, "It's good to care about our country."
He put a strong arm around her. "When we get through here, you up to coming over to my place?"
She looked up at him. "For more ...?"
He nodded, smiling.
"You are a real man!"
Pete lived in a walk-up modem apartment a half-mile from the shop. When he unlocked the cherry wood veneer door she expected a typical, long-time bachelor's apartment-all litter and casual arrangement. Functional furniture. Maybe a scattering of clothes on chairs. Dirt in the corners.
But it was immaculate. He owned luxurious, deep plush sofas and chairs. It was a two-bed-room, with a sun balcony. The carpeting was deep-pile shag, a soft shade of green, wall-to-wall. There were tasteful classic prints on the walls, and a few smaller original oils.
An obviously top-quality stereo system was shelved on mahogany. The speakers looked three-hundred dollar class.
Helen said wonderingly, "This is your place?" Pete smiled and led the way to the bedroom. On the way he punched the power button on the big Kenwood stereo receiver and a second later smooth, crystal-clear music flooded the apartment, pervasive, but not loud.
The bedroom was dominated by a big, masculine king-size bed. The room was paneled. The carpet was deep, old-gold shag.
Pete said, "I work in filth a lot of the time, but when I get home I live in satisfying surroundings."
"I would say." Helen was dazzled. She toed off her shoes and walked in luxury to the bathroom. It was sparkling clean. His man's toiletries were neatly in order on a shelf. His electric shaver was snug in its pocket in the case.
"Do you have maid service?"
"No. It doesn't take any great effort to be clean and neat. It's actually more trouble to be dirty and sloppy."
"I wish you could convince Tommy of that."
"I will!"
Helen looked up quickly at Pete's stern expression. She shivered and almost pitied the boy. "You're very strict and demanding. Almost Puritan." The more she got to know him, the more he opened up to a different person than the one she knew at the shop.
"I've spent many, many years learning truths about myself, about people, and about our social institutions." He pointed to a row of thick books in the mahogany bookshelf headboard. "It's all in history-Gibbon, especially. And Toynbee." Helen felt intimidated. She threw herself on the big bed. "Did we come here to talk about deep, ponderous subjects?" She rubbed the quilted, forest-green satin bedspread. "Aren't we here so you can ravish me?"
Pete smiled widely. "That we are. But I want to take my time and satisfy a long-time secret desire. I want to play with you in the shower."
"Oh ... all right." A shower had bad memories for her. She forced a smile. "I don't imagine many women in your life have wanted to ... to encounter you ... or cope with you in a small, confined space."
"That's the truth. You're a wonder of the world, Helen. I can't get enough of you. I'm a glutton now, as far as sex goes. I'm breaking all my rules of moderation and caution." Pete started to undress. "Let's get naked."
Helen squelched her recall of the times with Tommy ... Barbara. This was different. Pete was different. She would do anything for him!
A moment later, naked, she followed him into the yellow-walled, blue-tiled bathroom and waited as he slid open the large, frosted-glass shower door.
Pete's left hand circled her waist as he reached in with his right to start the spray. There was an expensive, gold-plated, adjustable shower head.
His hand slid under her armpit and cupped her left breast. He liked the trembling firmness and the red grapes that were her nipples.
Helen took his long, half-hard organ in her hand. She wanted to lean over and kiss the tip. But he wouldn't have liked it.
She pressed against him, as he was absorbed in adjusting the water temperature and the texture of the spray. She held his firming cock and rubbed the violet head against the crinkly, fuzzy brown hair of her mound. "Do you like that, darling? Am I too bold?"
His fingers tightened sensuously on her breast. "I like it. I'm sorry I don't have a shower cap for you. Your hair'll get wet."
"I don't care. It dries fast with a towel."
He took her hand and led her into the shower. As they entered the hot, pelting spray, he said, "This may seem a silly fantasy, but part of my philosophy is to indulge yourself-within limits."
"HI drink to that." Helen opened her mouth to the spray and swallowed. She squeezed his nearly hard cock.
Pete chuckled and took a bar of Lifebuoy and lathered his hands. He handed it to her. Helen did the same. They washed each other, turning and bending.
The shower was extra large, with gleaming stainless steel walls. There was no crowding.
Pete obviously loved the luxurious feel of her silky, slippery skin-breasts, belly, thighs, buttocks-as he roamed his big hands over her slim, voluptuous, little body.
Helen loved his soapy fondling and caressing. For a time she stood with her head bowed, the spray sending a fine halo of droplets off her wet, dark-blonde hair, her small hands busy with the giant, double handful of his dripping cock. She had already soaped it and let the hot shower rinse it clean. Now she played tantalizing finger games.
Now they faced each other. Pete towered over her. His hands were manipulating her yeasty, resilient little breasts. Helen smiled upward into the spray. Pete smiled down at her.
She had the strong urge to kneel before him, take his cock into her mouth, and suck ... suck ... suck....
She didn't understand his dislike of .oral sex. Everybody did it. Was he afraid she'd expect him to reciprocate?
She began a slow, sensuous masturbation of his long, long cock, watching the skin cowl over the glans, then retreat....
She became absorbed, almost hypnotized, by the movement. She was startled when his large, strong hand clamped on her wrist.
"Better stop. We don't want to waste it, do we?"
Helen laughed. "Oh, no! I didn't realize you were getting close."
"You have a very sexy grip." He shut off the water. They stepped out of the shower. Pete pulled a huge, thick beach towel from a rack. They dried each other with it. Pete stood close and rubbed her wet hair briskly.
Helen hugged Pete as he fluffed her hair with the towel. She positioned his ten-inch cock against her soft belly and pressed against it, enjoying the feel of it-so long and hot, like a smoldering log furrowing in her flesh.
Pete flipped the big towel over the shower door, took her hand and led her back into the bedroom.
Itchy, eager desire made Helen's cunt seem the most important organ in her body. Her eyes sparkled and her breath came fast.
A moment later they were on the large bed in each other's arms, pressed tightly together. They soaked in each other's body heat, as if starved for it. Helen's slim thighs enclosed his long, hot cock. Her small breasts flattened against his hard-muscled chest and her big, red-hot nipples punched against his skin.
They kissed with the pure, endless luxury of love and admitted lust. Helen's soft, sweet, hot mouth was ravishing. She worked her hand to his throbbing cock. "Darling, let me ... with my mouth for a little bit."
"You like doing it?"
"There's nothing wrong with it. As foreplay ... to excite your lover, and please him...."
"I'm already excited enough. You and your husband practiced oral sex a lot?"
"Not a lot, but ... we both liked it."
Pete nodded. "It's an individual preference, I suppose." He hesitated, then said, "I tried it. I let a woman do it to me. Frankly, it was very pleasant, but the idea of her-when I ejaculated she didn't take her mouth away-and it revolted me so much I almost vomited."
"But-"
"Since then I haven't permitted it." He spoke with stern finality. Helen knew there was no changing his mind. No argument would make a dent in his position, in his emotional set.
She said, "Well, it certainly isn't that important to me. I only wanted to give you pleasure, darling."
"Don't worry about my pleasure, Helen. I am about to take all I can endure...." He pushed her onto her back and put his heavy hand on her breasts. He began stroking her body ... over her puffed nipples ... down over her belly ... into the curly brown fuzz of her plump mound-------------He dipped his middle finger to her slit and rode it over and around the wet, pouting Ups.
Helen shivered. She closed her eyes. She kept her left hand on his cock, holding it possessively, and for a kind of emotional security, a link to him.
Pete eased his big finger into her cunt. Her hips rose to take more. He began finger-fucking her. He slipped a second finger into her, then a third-all bunched into a probing, three-stemmed cone.
Helen whispered, "I'd rather you ... fucked me."
"Plenty of time for that. You won't be disappointed. I'm curious, is all. I've never permitted myself to explore a woman's body like this ... to do the things I've thought of doing."
"Ummmm....
Pete worked his fingers with more force and speed. He said softly, "You're so elastic inside...."
Helen smiled and whispered, "All the better to take you with, my dear."
He sluiced his bunched fingers in and out, and began rotating his thumb on the slippery ball that was her clitoris.
She found herself reaching a swift orgasm. She tried to mask it for fear he'd think her too lusty, too passionate, too sex-hungry ... too possibly demanding.
But the pleasure surged through her, shaking her like a leaf. She panted, "Pete . ... get inside me. I want you inside me."
"So do I!" He came over her, looming, overhanging her five-foot body. His breathtakingly long cock wobbled between her thighs.
Helen drew her knees up to her shoulders. Her eyes were wide, her mouth open. She knew this would be a fantastic experience. Everything was perfect: a big, soft bed, soft lighting, soft music-a far cry from the bulgy, broken down sofa in the shop.
Pete made the insertion and plunged his endless cock up and up and up into her hot jelly cunt. He grunted with the sensation of depth and tightness and heat and slippery-velvet membrane.
And Helen wailed with delight at the swift, powerful total impalement.
He remained embedded for a few lovely heartbeats, then reared back until only the tip of his cock was within her.
Helen waited, lips parted, eyes sparkling, for the delightful thrust that was to come. The tingling greed in her cunt was aroused. Impetuously, she gushed, "Darling, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me good!"
A shadow crossed Pete's face. She couldn't see his momentary frown. He didn't answer in words. His long jaw set and he punched his cock into her to the hilt! Again! Again! Faster, harder, smacking his meat into her spasming, fisting cunt till she was sobbing, until she shook and babbled and until her blue eyes rolled in her head.
Then Pete shot jets of semen along the already juicy walls of her passage. He roared and grunted and jolted her along the bedspread, driving her inch by inch until her head butted the headboard.
Then he pulled out, dripping, and collapsed beside her. "Lady, consider yourself fucked!"
Helen felt herself melting inside, puddling like syrup, aching wonderfully, but not hurtfully. She whispered, "Tell me I'm not dreaming."
"Can't do that. I think I'm dreaming, too."
Helen giggled and couldn't stop. She pressed against him and giggled against his chest. She buried her face in a pillow. She tried holding her breath.
Nothing worked. She was in a mild hysteria, out of control. She rolled over and clapped her hands to her mouth-and giggled. She gasped, "Do-do you-have ... LSD in your semen?" That set her off again.
Pete smiled. He waited patiently for her to come out of it. His smile became strained. Finally he left the bed and went into the bathroom to wash himself.
Helen's uncontrollable giggles subsided after a while. She lay on the bed, hiccupping, and wondered if she had turned Pete off. He was such a damned self-disciplinarian. Her lack of control over her body probably offended him.
Helen made a wry face and got off the bed. She went into the bathroom to clean up. She saw that he had been there-a hand towel was crumpled in the hamper-and heard noises through the wall in the kitchen.
Minutes later she didn't know whether to dress or not. His clothes were on the chair in the bedroom, but he could be wearing a robe....
She finally decided she liked to go around naked in certain circumstances, and if he didn't like it-he'd let her know.
Pete was in the kitchen, frying a pan full of eggs. He smiled when he saw her step tentatively through the archway. "Hope you want some of these." He didn't seem to mind her nakedness. He was stark naked himself.
"Great." She noticed a coffee maker was dripping. How he loved strong, black coffee. She found the cupboard containing dishes and the drawer with silverware. She set the kitchen table for two.
As he served her three sunny-side-up eggs, Helen asked, "What happens after the eggs?"
"We listen to music, sip some wine, talk, digest, then go back to bed for more...."
Helen finished for him, saying the word. "Fucking."
He patted her head. "Missionary position." They both laughed.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
It was after midnight when Pete drove her home and she let herself into the house. There was a light on in the living room.
Helen entered and saw Tommy sitting on the sofa in his white briefs, watching the "Carson" show. She felt very good about herself and Pete and about sex. There was a soft, satisfied contentment in her organs. She had been royally fucked and had come half a dozen times.
But Tommy looked sullen and mean.
She reminded him, "School tomorrow. Six-thirty comes early."
"Screw school." He glared at her. "I guess ol' Pete gave it to you good tonight, huh? Thirteen inches of solid prick, huh?"
"Don't be ridiculous! And stop speaking to me in that tone with those words on that subject! I told you my sex life is none of your business."
"It was a couple weeks ago, mom. Just because you're letting the boss screw you-"
"Tommy, stop right there! That is over! It was a terrible mistake, and it is over! Period!" She stood with her hands on hips. "Now get in to bed."
He mocked her, "Now get in to bed. Hey, I've got a clue for you, Mom. I'm not ten years old anymore. I'm almost sixteen. A couple weeks ago you were going gaga over me, sucking me off and loving the hell out of the way I screwed you. We had a great thing going, and then all of a sudden you went all strict and moral and said it was all so terribly wrong."
"I told you-"
"Just about the time you met this sewer jockey. Then tonight you bring him on the scene for me to meet and act like he's God or something."
"I like Pete very much."
"You probably want to marry him. That's what's going down-a big hairy romance with wedding bells down the line."
"We haven't said a thing about marriage."
"You will. It's in your eyes." Tommy snorted. "Did you tell ol' square-shooter what we've been up to? Did you lay on him what you and Barbara did together?"
Helen was speechless ... sick to her stomach with dread. She could tell where Tommy was headed.
Tommy sneered. He knew his power. He stood up and came toward her arrogantly, his huge cock bulging the front of his cotton briefs.
He took her into his arms and hugged her. "Hey, Mom, why can't you have two big men at once? I read in a magazine that most women your age can take on three or four men and keep them happy. You need a lot more sex than that ol' guy can give you. You need a hot-blooded pile-driver like me, too. Hmmm?" He stroked her back. His hands spread on her buttocks and pulled her loins against his hardening cock.
Helen screamed, "NO!" and broke away from him. "Don't ever touch me that way again! That's over! Done with!"
Tommy's voice became ugly. "No, it isn't over with! I want it again! You owe it to me. You let me do it so you better let me do it some more. I'll tell that guy about you and me and the girls if you don't."
There it was, out in the open. The ruthless blackmail of a spoiled, amoral brat.
Helen could only stare at him, white-faced, trembling.
Tommy asked, "Does he go down on you like I do? I'll bet he doesn't. I'll bet he's so square he won't even let you suck him, huh?"
"What Pete and I do together is none of your business." Helen spoke waveringly. She was in full retreat. There was no way out if Tommy really meant his threat.
"He won't give you a taste, will he? The way he talked at supper I could read him like a book. He probably still thinks jacking off will rot his brain and pollute his precious bodily fluids."
"Pete Kincaid is a good man."
"Good at what? What does he do, screw a six-inch extension onto his prick?"
"Tommy, for God's sake-r-" She fled toward her bedroom.
Tommy followed close behind. He blocked open the door when she tried to close it on him. He followed her into her bedroom.
"Get out! Leave me alone!"
"C'mon, Mom! What's so terrible about wanting just what we had going? It was great. I won't bring in any more girls or anything. It'll just be you and me. C'mon ... you know you like to suck me off. You go crazy when you do it. You can't just turn that off like a faucet. You still want to take me down your throat and taste my come. You should have seen your face when I shot off in your mouth-like it was honey and caviar or something."
He skinned down his briefs and kicked them away. He stood naked, his immense, fat cock standing out its full nine inches. He reached for her....
Helen shrank away. She couldn't do that again. Not any of it. Not with her son. It was impossible now.
"Mom! Come on, now!" Tommy was ordering her. The petulant child trying to act the role of commanding adult.
Helen shook her head and ran from the bedroom. She knew what she had to do. She went quickly to the kitchen and took a paring knife from the drawer.
His next move would be to try physical force to get his way.
Tommy padded into the kitchen and saw the knife in her hand. He stopped. "Shit!" But he didn't come any closer.
"Go to your room and go to bed. You have to go to school tomorrow, and I have to go to work."
He pouted. "You just remember what I said, Mom. I'll tell that jerk everything!"
"Tommy, I love Pete. I think we can have a fine marriage, eventually. I think he and you could develop a fine relationship. He'd made a good father."
"Bull!"
"That's the way it is, honey. You have it in your power to blow it all up for me. But either way, either way, there'll never be any more sex between us."
"We'll see about that. I'll get rid of ol' Pete and you'll come around. You got to have your sex, Mom. That's the truth." He turned and went to his room.
Helen was left alone, in the silent, almost dark kitchen, with a knife in her hand, wondering if what he had said was true.
CHAPTER TWENTY
When Helen entered the plumbing shop the next morning at a quarter to eight, Pete was already there, just putting down the phone.
Helen called, "Good morning, darling!" and headed for the coffee machine. She was a bit late, and he'd want his hot, black brew as soon as possible.
She asked, "Did you sleep well?" and then glanced at his face.
He had a peculiar expression. He said, "That
-was your son, Tom."
Helen stopped. The blood drained from her face. She turned, stricken. "What ... what did he want?"
"To set me straight, I suppose. You know, he has a foul mouth on him." Pete watched Helen closely.
She stood very, straight, under an iron control she hadn't known she possessed. "What did he say?"
"I'm not going to repeat what he said. From the content, I'd say you have a good idea, anyway. From your expression I'd say what he said was probably true." Pete's shoulders slumped. "Right?"
Helen's mind raced, seeking an appeal, an argument. Finally, she said, "He's a monster. I can't control him."
Pete's smile was one of agony. "It takes two monsters."
"No...." She was shaking. "I made a terrible mistake. I can't undo what happened. It will never happen again."
He sighed and didn't seem to know what to do with his hands. His eyes were infinitely sad. He shook his head in bafflement. "I don't understand how you...."
"I don't either. It was a slow ... step by step ... I guess I went temporarily insane. I-I can't-" Her voice broke. She began to sob into her hands. She sank into an office chair.
Pete looked at the ceiling. "Jesus Christ!" He picked up a tray of letters and threw them across the room.
Helen flinched. She cried, "Haven't you ever made a mistake?"
"Hundreds. Thousands! But, something like that!"
"What do you want me to do, cut my throat to pay for my terrible sin? Would that satisfy you? What?"
Pete's face twisted and he turned away. He slammed into the backroom workshop.
Helen sobbed for a few moments longer, then straightened and began to repair her face. She felt hollow and dead inside.
She automatically made the coffee and went to her desk to take care of carry-over billing from the previous afternoon. Her vision blurred with tears, but she kept at it.
Pete came back to get a mug of coffee. He didn't say anything. He went into his private office.
Finally, an hour later, he returned and came to her desk. He said flatly, "Whatever we had ... is poisoned now. It's dead. There's no point in ... anything."
Helen's throat tightened. She fought the stinging in her nose and the flow of tears. She didn't look up.
He put a check on the desk before her. "This is for your pay to the end of the week and two week's severance pay. You can ... you can use me for a reference."
He spun and returned to his office. He slammed the door.
Through her tears, Helen saw the check was for more than four-hundred and fifty dollars. He had been very generous.
She put it in her purse, snapped her purse shut, and gathered her few possessions.
At the last minute she rolled a piece of paper into the electric typewriter and wrote a letter to the county juvenile authority. She got the address from the phone book.
Her lips firmed when she typed her second letter-to Tommy:
Dear Tommy, This will be short and sweet. I've written the juvenile authority and told them I'm more or less abandoning you. They'll put you in a foster home, I suppose. I'm going to disappear and start over in another city.
No recriminations, honey. It has to be this way for both of us. I can't live with you anymore, after what you just did. I'll never see you again, and I never want to see you again. It's a big world, and there are places for second starts.
Try to make something of yourself.
Love, Mother
She addressed it, stamped both letters, and put them in her purse. She was breathing deep and fast, fighting renewed tears.
Finally, she stood up and went to the shop door. She looked at Pete's office door for long seconds.
Then she went out.
She walked to her car-and remembered she had left the typewriter turned on. She laughed.
She smiled. She was free. Her past was gone. Ahead lay the challenges of a new identity, a new life.
