Great Trilogy -- Wrong Order

It reads a lot better in this order:

Gary, My Son
Voodoo Moms
Gary's Mom


Gary, My Son

Gary, My Son
byalwayswantedto©

This story is part of a trilogy; you should read "Gary's Mom" and "Voodoo Moms" first.

All characters are 18 years or older.

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Fucking idiots! I screamed.

Nobody turned to look of course because I had vented my frustrations to myself. The only apparent measure of my anger was the loud clicks of my heels on the once-polished floor of the school hallway, now populated by more than a few teenagers blatantly skipping classes, and the firm set of my jaw. I burst through the double doors which sprung back lively to crash together as I stomped down the cement steps to my car.

Fucking assholes!

Where did they get their degrees? I should call them and tell them what an embarrassment their graduates had become.

No evidence of bullying? Then why the fuck did they think my son was afraid to go to school? A good student suddenly refuses to go to school for no reason at all? Give me a break!

I dropped my keys, bent to pick them up, still fuming, fumbled them again, picked them up, couldn't get the key in the door, felt my arms and jaw to rigid, and yelled out loud, "FUCK!"

Several students and a couple of teachers turned to look. I tried the key again. It worked, so I got in the car, threw my purse on the passenger seat and put the key in the ignition but instead of starting the engine, I grabbed the steering wheel, leaned forward until my head hit the wheel, and cried. The teachers didn't approach the car to offer help.

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"I'm home," I called.

Nobody answered but the house wasn't empty. I knew Gary was upstairs in his room where he would have been all day. He didn't even come down to eat anymore. At first, John tried to get our son to come down for dinner and wouldn't let me take his meals upstairs but eventually we gave up.

During the day, I found evidence of Gary's excursions seeking food when I was away. I guess his hunger could overcome his fear of the great unknown outside his room. Or maybe he wasn't afraid of being in the rest of the house when it was empty. Maybe he just wanted to avoid contact, to be alone, unless absolutely necessary. God knows, he didn't want company when he ate his dinner. For a while, I waited in the hallway after hearing Gary in the bathroom but he always seemed to know I was there and wouldn't come out until he heard me go downstairs.

Eventually, I lost hope and resigned myself to supporting the live-in recluse my son had become. I started going out on the flimsiest of excuses, any reason to get out of my dismal home. Finding evidence of Gary's scrounging for food while I was gone no longer raised my hopes. To make things worse, John became more distant, often missed dinner, and sometimes didn't come home until after I had gone to bed. Maybe he was having an affair—Who could blame him? Our home was as exciting as a tomb—but more likely, he just wanted to avoid being home as much as possible, just like me.

I went to the gym, not so much to become fit as to get away. I took photography lessons, cooking lessons, tried golf, shopped until I was bored to tears, joined a book club, and had coffee with friends until the day I noticed their conversation change when they saw me coming. My mind wandered when I was with them anyway. I might be avoiding home but my thoughts were always with my son.

What had happened to him? How could I help him if I didn't know that? I had tried but couldn't find the answer and that had paralyzed me. Well, no more! I had to find a way to engage my son. Gary wasn't going to spend the rest of his life hiding in a room.

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A week later, I was at my wits end and ready to throw myself off a cliff. It didn't matter what I did, what I said, what I offered to entice him, Gary just wouldn't come out of his room. What was in there? Did he play games all day, look at porn, was that it? I didn't know for sure but sensed there wasn't anything keeping him in his room. He was truly afraid of going leaving.

We tried another round of doctors but they didn't do any better and after two months of that, we gave up again. School was now out but Gary hadn't missed finishing Grade 12. The school had come to its senses and let him finish his courses and write his tests online but he refused to go to the graduation ceremony let alone any parties.

Only one thing was going right in my life: I was exercising so much to relieve the stress that I lost a lot of weight. I hadn't been so light since my early thirties and was in much better shape but it was too good to last. I started getting headaches and pains all over my body. I stopped going to the gym but found another excuse to get out of the house: massages. They felt great and helped with the headaches but couldn't rid me of the constant aches that prevented me from exercising. However, one massage therapist, my third I think, recommended a solution.

"Jenny, I can't get a massage every time I want to exercise."

"Well no, I know that but you can get a body doll."

"A body doll?"

"Yeah," Jenny said. "I know it sounds stupid but several of my clients have tried it and they all swear by it."

"So, how does that work?"

"Well, you do exercises at home but before and after you do them, you massage the doll." She laughed as she ended, I guess realizing how silly it sounded.

"So how is massaging a doll supposed to make me feel better?"

"I know, sounds silly, doesn't it?"

I nodded.

"Well, the doll is supposed to be an image of you, so when you're massaging it, you're actually massaging yourself. It's based on the notion that you know best where you hurt and will subconsciously massage yourself in the right places and in the right way."

I was skeptical but went along for the ride. "So, where am I supposed to get a doll that's an image of me?"

Jenny laughed in a way that showed she was embarrassed about what she was going to say next. "Well, there's this old black woman that sells voodoo stuff. She makes personalized dolls."

"A voodoo doll? Am I supposed to stick pins in it?" I teased.

"Not unless you're a masochist," Jenny laughed. "Seriously, several of my clients have tried it and they say it really works."

"How much are these dolls?"

"I think they're about fifty bucks."

"And are there's a special exercises plan to go along with the doll?" I asked, smelling a sales pitch.

"No special exercises. Just do your regular routine. I'll show you some good ones to do at home and instead of stretching before and after, you massage the doll." Jenny tittered. "Then, if you feel better, you can start going back to the gym."

"Well, it's worth a shot," I sighed. "I'm starting to gain weight again."

So, on top of everything else, I started exercising at home and massaging a doll that looked like me. My life was a pit.

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I felt silly the first few times I massaged the doll but, strangely, I did feel better. Not only did the pain stop but the stress disappeared as well. I began feeling good about myself. I had lots of energy and I looked good, not only in the mirror but in the faces of men glancing my way a sure-fire measure of attractiveness.

My husband, however, hardly noticed which made me even more convinced that he was having an affair. Surprisingly, I didn't really care that much. It actually allowed me think clearly about what to do about Gary.

I didn't have any new ideas about how to solve my son's problem but I was no longer depressed about it. I was confident that I would come up with something. We had relied on the doctors and they had failed us, twice, so we had given up. I now knew that wasn't acceptable and, rather than convincing John, I decided to handle it on my own, as soon as I came up with a plan.

The solution came upon me by accident and, at first, I didn't recognize it for what it was. I was about to begin my exercise routine when Gary surprised me. I was sitting at the kitchen table, finishing my fruit bowl with one hand and absent mindedly massaging the doll with the other when Gary shuffled into the kitchen.

"Oh," he said, surprised. "I didn't know you were home."

Obviously, because he hadn't called for me to bring his lunch. It was well after one so he must have been starving.

I surprised myself by not jumping up to get him something to eat, which would have been my normal response. Instead, I said, "I'm about to start my exercises so you'll have to get yourself something."

Gary shuffled over to the counter and put some bread in the toaster, then got some peanut butter from the cupboard. He was wearing a pair of flannel pajamas that looked like he'd been wearing them for at least a week. I bit my lip.

I only had one slice of orange and two slices of peach left in the bowl when I realized that Gary was watching me. Of course... it was the doll. He had seen me exercising before but hadn't seen me massaging a doll, especially one that looked like me. It must have looked weird. I was about to explain, then thought better of it. Maybe a puzzle was just what his crippled mind needed.

I toyed with my food, cutting each slice in three. I studiously avoided looking at Gary so he could observe me without feeling self-conscious about it. He opened the fridge to get some jam, closed it, and walked slowly back to the toaster. I knew he was looking at me rather than where he was going. He was so fascinated by what I was doing, he bumped into the counter. Unconsciously, I rubbed the doll more slowly, just as I had slowed the pace of eating, as if they were part of the same process.

The toast popped up. Gary pushed it back down.

"Mom?"

"What dear?" I responded without looking up from what I was doing.

"Nothing," he mumbled.

I rubbed my thumb up the front of the doll, over its breasts, and back down. I couldn't see him directly but I knew his eyes were glued on what I was doing to the doll.

"Your toast is burning," I said a minute later.

"Oh shit."

Gary popped the toast up but rather than spreading his peanut butter and jam while he was at the counter, he put the toast on a plate and carried everything to the table. For months he had minimized contact with us and now here he was joining me at the table. Excitement surged through me.

Gary sat down and busied himself with his toast. I avoided eye contact, concentrating on massaging the doll, and I knew Gary was just as focused on it. I hadn't seen him pay so much attention to anything for months. I kept massaging the doll after I finished eating, which I had stretched out ridiculously long. Finally, I felt I could hardly justify carrying on so I got up, leaving the doll on the table, and put my bowl in the sink.

I walked behind Gary and stopped by the end of the table, before leaving the kitchen. I stretched, holding my arms above my head, tipped my head back and shook my hair, then arched my back and tensed my legs and buttocks. I told myself I needed to expel the thrill coursing through me, but in reality I was parading my new, buff body shamelessly in front of my son. Clad in a tight-fitting black leotard covered by a blue, swim-style, leopard-decorated suit, I knew I looked good and, subconsciously, I wanted confirmation that it was me and not the doll that my son found so fascinating.

"I feel great," I sighed.

What the hell was I doing? All I knew for sure was I didn't want Gary to go back upstairs. In the living room, I started my routine with a series of stretches, pausing in poses that weren't my regular stretch points. I kept my back to the kitchen but was aware when Gary got up to stand in the doorway to watch me. All I could think of was what to do next to keep him downstairs.

I bent over to touch my toes and managed to touch the floor many more times than I had before. I rose up with my legs still spread, tensing my thigh muscles and glutes, shook my hair and stretched sideways, sliding my hand down the outside of my leg, first the left, then the right, again and again. My ears were peaked, straining for signs that my son was still there, watching me.

When I turned around, he seemed startled but before he could escape, I said, "You can watch TV if you want. I won't be in the way."

Gary flushed red and ran up the stairs.

I wasn't disappointed. I was ecstatic!

This was the ticket. Nothing we had done, or the doctors had done, had drawn Gary out of his shell but we had all overlooked the obvious. Gary was a typical teenager, probably a virgin, and likely thought of little else than the pussy he craved but hadn't yet enjoyed. Even as a recluse, he was probably still interested in girls and I was the only one in the near vicinity. If I could activate his fantasies, despite being his mother, I could gradually use his teenage libido to lure him out into the real world where his lust could be transferred to a more appropriate target.

This was it. This was the plan that would save my son.

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The next day, I made my lunch and waited for Gary to call out, determined to ignore him until he ventured downstairs to make himself something to eat. Long after lunch would have been ready, his bedroom door opened and I heard him shuffling down the stairs. I picked up the doll in my left hand, looked at the magazine I had spread on the table beside my bowl of fruit, and stabbed a slice of peach. I knew I looked good. I had warmed myself up with a short routine to bring color to my face and checked myself in the mirror to make sure the leotard made my legs look good, that the exercise suit didn't overly restrict my breasts, and that it molded nicely over my butt.

Gary poked his head around the corner. I rubbed my thumb up the front of the doll.

"Did I miss lunch?" he asked.

"You did," I said.

Gary didn't seem perturbed. Without complaint, he shuffled to the counter and put bread in the toaster, then turned and looked at me. I ignored him, delicately sliding a slice of peach between my lips and massaging the doll without a break. Gary watched in silence.

The scene was surreal. We were together yet apart. I dangled my crossed legs under the table, knowing my foot extended out the side toward Gary, drawing his attention to my carefully painted toes which had consumed almost an hour of my morning. Whiffs of perfume occasionally overpowered the fruity odor emanating from my bowl.

Gary's toast popped up and he pushed it down again. I picked up the peeled banana that I had laid on a side plate and slowly slid the tip into my mouth and just as cautiously bit off the end. I chewed slowly, constantly rubbing the doll with my thumb. I was halfway through the banana when the toast popped up again. Only then did Gary get the margarine and jam from the fridge.

At the table, he buttered his toast as I used one finger to poke the rest of the banana deep into my mouth. My thumb slipped down over the doll's torso and rubbed its thighs, brushing up and onto the suit it wore that matched my own, the proud result of an hour's sewing the night before. I turned the page of the magazine, my thumb resting on the doll's pelvis, not quite still. Gary spread jam on his toast, slowly, as if he needed to stay in time with me.

I finished my fruit at the same time that the first slice of toast had disappeared. While Gary began spreading margarine on the next slice, I got up, put my bowl and plate in the sink, then sauntered out of the kitchen. I stopped before the doorway and stretched as I had done the day before but for longer and in an even more exaggerated pose. The only sound I made was a long, satisfied sigh.

I went into the living room. My fingers had barely touched the floor when Gary's body blocked the light from the kitchen. I looked between my legs to verify his presence in the doorway. He was leaning against the jamb with a slice of toast in one hand. He didn't say a word.

I pulled myself up and touched the fingers of my right hand to the floor in front of my left foot, holding it in an extended stretch. Rising slowly, I arched my back before doing the same with my left hand and right foot, conscious of my right cheek thrusting toward the left under the leotard. Rising again, I touched the floor between my open legs, stretching down until my palms grazed the carpet, knowing that the swollen area between my legs was wantonly pouting, begging to escape the confines of the leotard. Joan, you hussy, I reprimanded myself. But it's for a good cause," I replied.

I repeated that routine many times. After a while, not hearing a sound from Gary except an occasional munch on toast, I rose up and started sliding my palm seductively down the outside of my left leg, then the right. I carried that on for another several minutes. I pretended I didn't know Gary was there.

I straightened and paused, trying to think of what I could say when I turned around and pretended to see him. What could I say that would stop him from running upstairs? I can't describe the thrill that flooded my chest when he walked past me and sat down on far end of the couch, then picked up the remote. He forgot for a moment to turn the TV on. I felt like running outside and screaming in delight. It's going to work!

I was facing Gary now but turned around to face the TV so he could continue to watch me unobserved. Several times, I stretched a leg up, like I used to do in ballet class, grabbed an ankle and held my foot by my head. I felt terribly guilty holding this pose that couldn't help but fill the male mind with awe at how wide a woman can open her legs. I hadn't done it since my first boyfriend came to pick me up after class and watched me through the waiting area window, a trick I had learned from Hayley, who used to tease the other girls' fathers waiting for their daughters, an act that made her quite unpopular with the girls if not the men. I knew exactly what I was doing.

My back wasn't directly facing Gary. By looking at the TV, I was facing about thirty degrees off directly away from him, far enough that I couldn't see him so he could safely watch, but enough to show the profile of my left breast from behind. I stretched my other leg up and hugged it to myself, then bent over to touch the floor again, bouncing my palms onto the rug, thrilled with my brilliance. On the first touch, I peeked through my legs and saw Gary gawking at my ass.

This was definitely going to work!

I was careful not to peek again. Gary had to be able to safely watch, comfortable in the knowledge that I was facing away. I concentrated on doing my regular routine so I didn't blow it by being awkward or self-conscious. On the floor, I twisted so I could watch the TV to increase Gary's confidence that I wouldn't suddenly look his way. When I pulled my knees up to my chin, I held them there much longer than usual, keeping the leotard stretched tightly over my bum. I turned onto my left side to scissor my legs and when I did the right, I switched head and feet so I could keep facing the TV. I scissored my legs until I couldn't lift them anymore.

Despite the show, I was surprised Gary didn't bolt for his room until I remembered the pajamas he was wearing. He probably had an erection and was afraid to run past me in case I saw it. I smiled, amused and pleased by the thought of my son sitting on the couch behind me with a bit hardon. It's for a good cause, I reminded myself.

I gave Gary lots of warning before I got up and joined him on the couch by walking into the kitchen first to retrieve the doll. His hands were resting on a pillow strategically placed on his lap when I returned. I almost burst out laughing but managed to turn it into a coughing fit. 

I massaged the doll for ten minutes. Finally, it struck me that Gary couldn't leave until I did because whatever he was hiding under the pillow was unlikely to subside while I was sitting beside him playing with the doll. I mumbled something about getting a shower and left. As I pulled the leotard down my leg, I heard Gary rushing up the stairs. Too late, I saw that I had left the door wide open. Gary hurried by, still clutching the pillow in front of himself, as I sat frozen in an artistic slice of ordinary domestic life, a woman undressing, nude except for a leotard dangling from her toe.

Gary's door banged shut and, this time, I did burst out laughing though I leaned over and muffled the sound in the covers. A moment later, I recklessly crept down the hallway to my son's room and listened at his door, a triumphant smile breaking out when I heard the distinctive sound of male masturbation. Unashamed, I swung my arm up, bent my elbow and closed my fist.

Yes!

I wasn't ashamed. I had found the key to my son's salvation.

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Gary was upstairs when John came home from work and remained there through dinner which proceeded as usual, quiet except for the sound of chewing, knives and forks scraping on plates, and the occasional clink of a wine glass returning to the table. Quiet, that is, until I explained my idea to John.

"You're joking, right?"

"Why do you say that?"

"Gary's sick. There's something wrong with him, and flirting with him isn't going to fix it."

"There's nothing wrong with our son. He's just been bullied. All he needs is a reason to go back outside and the confidence to do it," I retorted.

"And you cavorting in front of him is going to do that?"

"No," I drawled. "My 'cavorting', as you call it, will make him think of girls and that will make him want to rejoin the land of the living."

"It's a little unconventional, Joan."

"Not really. Boys always have a thing for their mothers, don't they?"

"Sometimes. If they're not ugly, I guess," John laughed.

"Your mother was attractive when she was younger. Did you have the hots for her?"

"I'm surprised you have anything nice to say about my mother," John neatly side-stepped the question.

"I said when she was younger and quit avoiding the question. Did you think about her when you were a teenager?"

"I suppose."

"I suppose?" I laughed.

"Yes, I guess I did, but I was much younger than Gary. I think it's a little late for a maternal fixation."

"Uh huh. So what first attracted you to your Mom?" I persisted.

John leaned back, crossed his legs, uncrossed them, then crossed them again.

"I don't remember."

He didn't want to talk to me about it but, knowing me, knew it was unavoidable. I suspected he was trying to buy time to think of how little he could get away with telling me.

"Yes you do."

John took a deep breath. Resigned, he said, "I guess it was... one day I was watching her hang clothes on the line, something I'd seen her do a million times before, but this time, as she was stretching up, she lost her footing and almost fell. Well, as she reached out to grab the post to keep from falling her hand knocked a button off her blouse. When she hung up the next shirt, I could see her brassiere and quite a bit of her breasts feeding into it. I watched her hang the rest of the clothes and later, when we were having lunch, she hadn't fixed the blouse. I watched her all day."

"Naughty Johnny. Think how we could have spiced up a few nights if you'd told me this years ago," I teased. John ignored me.

"The thing was, Mom didn't fix her blouse all day but just before Dad came home, she changed it. That night, I woke up and heard my parents having sex. Mom was particularly loud. I had heard my parents having sex before but it was just the sound of the bed springs and my father huffing and puffing. From then on, though, I heard Mom almost every time. I stayed awake on Saturday nights because I knew they were going to fuck. On Saturdays, if Mom forgot to do up one or two of her buttons, I couldn't wait until bedtime because I knew she'd be enthusiastic. She always was on those days."

"Jesus, John. No wonder your mother never liked me."

"Yeah, I guess so."

"Did you ever..."

"No," John interrupted. "That's all Mom ever did."

"For how long?"

"Years, I guess. After Dad died, she always had her blouse partly undone when I visited alone."

"Even after we were married?"

"Yes," John replied. He spoke so softly I could hardly hear him.

"John. I'm just trying to get Gary interested in girls so he'll quit hiding in his room."

"I know, Joan. It might work, but be careful."

"Be careful?"

"Yeah. Don't get to liking it like my mother did."

"John, don't be ridiculous. It's not something I'll enjoy, it's something I'll do for our son."

"I know." John's voice was still low. His mind was somewhere else.

"You might have to be scarce for a while. Not that you haven't been already."

"Why?"

"It'll take time for this to work and Gary needs to know that we're alone and not in danger of being surprised."

"I thought you were going to say we need to start fucking really loud."

"We haven't been fucking so I don't know where that comes from."

"Joan..."

It was my turn to interrupt.

"Actually, I don't think we should have sex for a while. I think it might help if Gary thought I wasn't getting any."

"Why would he think that?"

"Because we haven't been doing it. You haven't exactly been here."

"Joan, I..."

"I don't want to hear it and I don't care anyway. I don't know whether you're getting it somewhere else or if you've just lost interest, like me."

I reached out to grasp John's hand.

"I wouldn't blame you if you were. I know I haven't been here for you. Look, we're both stressed out but if we can fix this thing with Gary, I think we can fix ourselves as a side benefit. Let's leave it at that, shall we?"

"Okay. I'll stay out of the way, for our marriage."

"And for our son."

"Of course, but just a little flashing, okay?"

"Of course. What do you think we've been talking about?"

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For the rest of the week, Gary and I settled into an after lunch routine. I waited for him to come down for lunch, finished mine while he made his, and we both repaired to the living room. I exercised while Gary ate his lunch and watched TV, and me. After every session, Gary waited, his eyes fixed on the TV and the pillow held firmly on his lap, while I massaged the doll. He always waited until I went upstairs. Within a minute, he would rush by the open door of my room and I would sneak down to his closed door to confirm what I already knew.

John kept his word and came home later and later, missing dinner three times that week. Near the end of the week, Gary appeared downstairs in the late afternoon. I happened to be making a Moroccan dish. Gary didn't explain his appearance. He simply sat down at the kitchen table and watched me move about the kitchen . I was wearing a wrap around a body leotard, almost my uniform these days.

I talked constantly, partly because I was nervous and partly to make Gary comfortable. It was meaningless chit chat, nothing requiring a response and so relieving him of any pressure to do so. I was simply trying to make the situation seem normal while my body movements made it anything but.

When I was finished, I sauntered over to my son and got him to taste my creation, leaning over and delicately inserting several olives into his mouth, one at a time. It was an innocent act, though seductively executed. The leotard and wrap covered me completely but Gary looked at my breasts anyway. I asked him if he would help me make some new dishes the next afternoon and he agreed.

The next day, Gary didn't rush by my room so fast. I was sitting on the other side of the bed with my back to him. I heard him pause and knew he was right outside my door. I stretched my leg out high and straight, leaned forward and pushed the leotard off my foot, then did the same for the other. Somehow, I managed to twist sideways a little so my breast swung out far enough for him to see its swollen fullness. I stood then, slowly so as not to startle him, and walked, stark naked, into the bathroom, pausing in the doorway to turn on the light, then turning and disappearing from his sight, allowing a brief glimpse of my breasts in full, thrusting side profile.

I could hear him before I even got to his door, breathing harshly, erratically, the sound of his fist furiously beating his cock. When I turned away, I was surprised to find my hand covering my own sex.

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The next day, I happened to be looking at the TV when the screen went blank and I saw Gary's reflection. He was holding the pillow with his left hand and slowly stroking his cock with the right. I stifled a gasp and almost stopped moving but caught myself and acted like the exercise had just become particularly strenuous. I was shocked. I had initially assumed Gary was just getting hard while watching me and even entertained the notion that he might be touching himself under the pillow too but to actually see him stroking his bare cock, even in the dim reflection of the blank TV screen, was a tad unsettling.

I guess I shouldn't have been that surprised. After all, it had been a week. I imagine when Gary first started touching himself, his cock grew big enough to poke through the hole in the front of his pajamas. Over the week, it was a natural progression to touch it, even take it out and stroke it, secure in the knowledge that I never, ever turned around to look at him. Perhaps I had done my job too well.

That same day, while Gary helped me make some gourmet snacks and actually chatted with me, I asked him if he would keep me company outside in the sun. He was hesitant at first but succumbed to my will after twenty minutes of wily, womanly cajoling. Gary did sit on the patio lounges with me but steadfastly refused to venture farther from the safety of the house. Nevertheless, it was an amazing accomplishment in our small world.

Later that afternoon, while in the mall on some errands, I ran into Sandra and then Vanessa, both mothers of boys Gary had played with when he was younger. We became good acquaintances if not friends attending games and stuff with the kids. I always like Sandra and admired her greatly and her kid was nice whereas Vanessa's was a bit of a brat. Without thinking about it, I told Sandra about the doll and how I had accidentally stumbled upon a plan to lure Gary from his room. She seemed a little shocked but relaxed when I explained that I simply wanted to revive his teenage instincts sufficiently for him to want to rejoin the planet. Sandra laughed and remarked that she doubted she would be able to entice her own son in such a way so thankfully there was nothing wrong with him.

"Oh gosh, Joan. I'm so sorry. I didn't mean... oh, I feel just terrible."

"Don't worry. I know you didn't mean anything. It has been hard, Sandra, and I'm ready to try anything. I have no idea if this will work. So far, I've only managed to get him to come downstairs for lunch and sit in the patio. In fact, I don't think he's really interested in my old body, he's probably just hungry."

We both laughed, and a few minutes later, Sandra left. I wasn't worried that she'd say anything. Sandra was a private person and I was confident she wouldn't tell anyone about our conversation.

Before I left, Vanessa passed by and sat down. I knew Vanessa was having tremendous difficulty with her own son and knowing that she knew about the problems we were having with Gary, I confided my success, perhaps primed by the sympathetic reaction from Sandra.

I was tentative at first but Vanessa's obvious interest loosened my tongue. I didn't spill everything but let enough out that she knew I was trying to use womanly charms to encourage Gary to get out of the house. Vanessa was captivated by the approach and I see in her eyes she was already planning how she could do the same thing to curb Billy's juvenile behavior.

"I think Billy's getting into drugs," she confided.

"You're kidding?"

"No. Gary isn't?"

"No, definitely not. At least, I don't think so."

"I'm not a hundred percent sure about Billy either but he's getting out of control and something is driving it. I've got to do something about it. You say this teasing thing really works?"

"Well, I'm not sure yet but I've managed to get him out of his room."

"And you used a doll?"

"Yes, from this Voodoo woman."

"Voodoo woman? Oh, you mean that black woman with the strange store across from the mall?"

"Yes, that's the one."

I wished I hadn't said so much to Vanessa and wanted to limit the damage so I didn't explain the connection with massage therapy. The last thing I wanted was Vanessa dropping in to interrogate Jenny and gossiping about my success with Gary. Thank God, that was enough for Vanessa and she left soon after. As I watched her confident, former-model body steer between the food court tables, I pitied her brat son. She reminded me of my mother-in-law, God rest her soul. Billy didn't know what he was in for.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The next day, I managed to capture several glimpses of my son in the blank TV screen and confirmed what I thought I'd seen the previous day. Gary was definitely stroking himself while he watched me. And why wouldn't he? I never, ever turned around to look at him while exercising so he should feel safe to touch himself until I finished my routine, which by now he probably knew by heart.

Far from feeling I had gone too far, I was tremendously pleased. His obvious desire raised my confidence in the plan. The motivation was there, all I had to do was continue leading him down the path to its eventual, inevitable conclusion.

I found a way to reward Gary for his trip out to the patio. I stopped mid-routine and, inanely complaining about being hot, removed the bathing suit, and left myself clad only in the body leotard. I wasn't wearing a bra or panties. It was like I was naked, except for a second skin. I carried on with the rest of my routine and even extended it with exercises I made up on the spur of the moment, anything that allowed me to stretch and arch my body.

It was an outrageous exhibition, one which made me feel deliciously naughty. I squirmed and preened on the floor in front of my son without shame, knowing there wasn't an inch of me he couldn't imagine naked under the tight black leotard that covered me so revealingly. I denied the thrill I felt as anything but exaltation in the knowledge that when I asked, Gary would willingly follow me anywhere in the yard I asked him to go. Next week, I would talk him into accompanying me to the store, just the corner store, and I wouldn't even ask him to get out of the car, but it would be a huge step and I was positive now that he would do it. My plan was working!

Finally, I stopped, exhausted. While I lay there, breathing heavily, knowing Gary was watching my gently heaving bosom, a thought entered my mind and I acted upon it before considering the consequences.

"Gary?"

He gasped. I had never spoken to him before while exercising. There was a rustle as he frantically covered himself, probably learning too late how difficult it was to conceal a hard, springy cock.

"Yeah," he croaked.

"Be a darling and get my doll from the kitchen for me."

"Your doll?"

He was stalling, likely afraid to get up until the big lump in his lap subsided.

"Yes, my massage doll. I left it on the kitchen table."

"Uh..."

"Come on. I'm so exhausted I can't keep my eyes open."

I closed my eyes and opened them a slit just in time to see Gary go past. In the kitchen, he turned toward the table to retrieve the doll, exposing the reason for his hesitation. The front of his pajamas looked like a tent. I was impressed by its size. I shut my eyes as he returned.

"I put it on the couch," he said.

"Can you do me another favor?"

"Mom... what?"

"Can you massage the doll for me?"

"Awww, Mom. I'll feel silly and, anyway, I don't know how to do it."

"It's easy, you just rub it gently, all over, and it isn't silly. It really helps me."

"Mom."

"Please?"

"Oh... okay."

There was a rustle as Gary picked up the doll.

"You just rub it?"

"Mhhhmmm," I murmured, wiggling to ready my body for its 'massage'. "Start with the feet and work your way up," I suggested.

I waited half a minute then sighed, "That feels good."

After that, I was silent except the occasional murmur or pleased sigh. Periodically, I wiggled. I suspected that after a few minutes, Gary rubbed near my breasts so I arched my back slightly and purred. I opened my eyes a slit but couldn't see what he was doing except to note that he was enthralled. I think I could have sat up and looked right at him without being noticed.

"Oh, that feels good," I murmured.

Despite his initial objection, Gary seemed to enjoy massaging the doll. I was sure he wouldn't mind doing it more often, maybe even both before and after my routine. I rolled over onto my tummy, twisting so my bum was pointed toward my son, and parted my legs a little.

After thirty seconds or so, I sighed and arched my ass up a bit, tensed my legs and glutes, relaxed, and settled back into the carpet. I repeated this every minute or so and squirmed my ass around. I couldn't have been more obvious unless I got up on my hands and knees and turned around to pout at him.

I gave Gary lots of warning when I was ready to quit, giving him time to put the pillow in place. I leaned over to kiss him on the forehead in thanks, adding a longer one on his cheek, my lips just catching the corner of his mouth.

"Thanks, son," I husked.

I sauntered slowly up the stairs, exaggerating the sway of my hips and pushing my bottom out with each step. Once in my room, I quickly removed the leotard instead of just pushing it down so Gary could covertly watch me slip it off my feet before I stepped into the bathroom for my shower. I lay back on the bed, covered my eyes with a crooked arm, arched my back to push up my naked breasts, and waited for the sound of his footsteps. When they arrived, I held my pose for a couple of minutes, sure he was watching, then lazily turned away from him onto my side. There, I let my upper knee slide off the other onto the bed and pulled it up a bit, positioning my exposed ass in its most inviting pose.

I don't know how long Gary watched me so I waited for a long time. At some point, I dozed off.

For the rest of the week, Gary massaged the doll for me while I squirmed around appreciatively on the floor in front of him. I had replaced the mat with a comforter to provide a wider range for movement on the floor. My stretches were always more languid during the 'post' massage than in the warm up and by the time we were done, I was very warm indeed. I may have been doing this to save my son, but it wasn't a hardship. Being the focus of such intense appreciation was like doing a feel-good drug, mellow yet stimulating.

I toyed with the idea of getting Gary to actually touch me. I could just turn around, maybe while lying on my back, and stretch my feet up for him to massage directly rather than via the medium of the doll. I thought hard about the potential benefits of direct touch but eventually vetoed the idea as too dangerous, thinking about the effect on my son. Had I though about the effect on myself, I would have realized how dangerous it really was.

In the afternoons, Gary followed me around the yard, helping with the gardening and just generally keeping me company. I always wore a loose blouse and usually baggy or tight shorts but sometimes put on a short skirt. There was plenty of opportunity for Gary to look down my blouse or peek between my legs as he stood above me while I squatted or kneeled to work on the garden. Initially, I had worn my flimsiest bras, the ones designed to be worn with an evening dress or a low-cut blouse, but on Thursday I went braless because I was working up to getting Gary out of the house altogether, just a short trip to the store.


On Friday, Gary arrived downstairs to find me eating my lunch dressed only in a body stocking. It was much like the leotard but it was flesh-colored rather than black, and thus easier to see through. The legs were shorter, extending barely halfway down my thighs instead of to my ankles, and both the back and the front dipped low, the back rounded while the front dove into a deep V.

I had found the body stocking while searching the bottom of a drawer because, what with one thing and another, I was behind with the laundry and had run out of leotards. I held it up to the light but rejected it as too revealing. On second thought, I held it up again and whispered, "Wow." A delightfully wicked feeling shimmered through me so strongly I ignored my nattering conscience which quickly faded as I sat down on the bed and pulled the stocking on.

When he first saw me, Gary stopped dead in his tracks, mouth open. I didn't tease him, I just quietly handed him the doll.

"We're late. Why don't you warm me up... uh, massage the doll, while I make your lunch."

Gary sat down, his eyes soaking in the body stocking, or more accurately, the parts it didn't cover so well. I glanced at him and he started massaging the doll.

"I want you to have some fruit," I said. "You're going to get scurvy the way you eat."

Gary nodded in the compliant manner he had adopted of late. I put his typical two pieces of toast in and then brought him a banana. Since he was holding the doll in two hands, I peeled it for him, slowing pulling down each strip, and nibbled a small bit off the top before handing it to him.

Before Gary could release a hand from the doll to take it, I said, "Oh, right, you've got the doll. Here, I'll feed you while you work on the doll."

I put the banana to Gary's lips, "Go ahead."

His thumbs rubbed up and down the front of the doll as I pushed the banana into his mouth, leaning over in an exaggerated fashion to give him an eyeful.

"They're good, aren't they?"

I put the banana into my own mouth, lifting Gary's eyes from my breasts. They widened when I pushed the banana deep into my mouth and then slid it all the way out.

"Sorry, I forgot it was your banana."

I snagged another small bite and then pushed it into Gary's mouth. He took a large bite. The toast popped, so I finished the banana and swayed over to butter Gary's toast, making sure my butt wiggled with each swipe of the knife. Gary devoured the toast and we moved into the living room. I lay down on the comforter and immediately began squirming around, trying to avoid eye contact with Gary's bulging erection.

"Gary, I want you to keep me company while I go to the store."

"To the store?"

"Yes. There were some rough-looking fellows hanging around the last couple of times and they make me nervous. You'll come, won't you?" I asked, closing my eyes as I arched my back sharply to thrust my breasts upward, forcing my nipples into the body stocking.

"I don't know, Mom. It's been a long time since..."

"Please, son. I'm a little frightened."

I rolled onto my left shoulder, then my right, twisting toward him and stretching to emphasize my breasts.

"I'll try," he mumbled.

"Thanks. I knew I could rely on you."

I treated Gary to a command performance. I had become jaded over the past few weeks and where I was formerly hesitant to adopt more lurid poses, I now had so such inhibitions. I no longer worried that my posture was ridiculously provocative, I was only concerned about whether it was sufficiently sexy to make Gary want me as a woman so I could lure him out of the house. I thrived on my success, knowing Gary jacked off quietly while he watched me on the floor and that he couldn't wait until he reached his room to finish himself off. However, toward the end of my extended routine, Gary voiced doubt about his ability to leave the house.

"Mom, I'll really try to go with you but I might not be able to make it," he whined.

I stopped and sat up, my back to him, and legs tucked to one side.

"I really want you to come, Gary."

"I know. I'll try, Mom, but I don't think I'll be able to do it."

It was only then that I noticed that we had forgotten to turn on the TV. The screen was blank and I could see Gary's reflection, sitting behind and slightly to my left, pillow in one hand and his cock in the other.

"I want you to really try, son."

I lifted my right hand up to my left shoulder as I spoke. Gary watched intently, and didn't answer. I looked sideways and slipped my finger nails under the body stocking on top of my shoulder and urged it over the edge, then turned the other way and did the same on the other side. Gary sucked in his breath and stopped breathing.

"I really want you to come," I repeated.

I pulled the body stocking down to my elbow on my left side, then did the same with my right.

"You will come, won't you?"

Gary was silent except for his raspy breath.

I pulled my left arm out of the stocking's sleeve, then turned and did the same with my right.

"Will you come?"

Gary remained mute. I pulled the body stocking down my waist until it rested on my hip, turned to look down at my right side and slowly did the same there.

"Yes," Gary whispered his answer.

"For sure?"

"Yes," he hissed.

I turned halfway then, but not far enough to see him.

"Thank you, son."

My tits slung out from my chest, nipples stiff with excitement, and I leaned slightly to one side to emphasize the curve of my spine and the slender length of my neck. I completed the rest of my floor routine half-naked. Gary couldn't contain himself sufficiently to remain completely silent. The sound of his hand moving up and down on his cock disturbed the air but was ignored by us both, despite its electrifying effect on the air between us.

I didn't warn Gary when I stood up. I simply turned and caught him, hand in lazy mid-stroke, suddenly shocked into immobility. Ignoring his plight, I stooped to kiss him, the upper part of the body stocking hanging down from my hips. I kissed his forehead and then placed my lips on his, leisurely kissing him as if I was pecking him on his cheek, only longer. Nonetheless, the casual brush of my lips on his made his manhood lurch, and when I say manhood, I mean manhood because it was long enough to nuzzle between my dangling breasts.

"I'll be ready in half an hour," I whispered.

I didn't remember to put on my sexy walk as I climbed the stairs because my body was still tingling from my brazen act and the turmoil it had caused in my mind. I couldn't believe what I'd just done. I hadn't heeded John's warning and now I had gone much further than I ever intended but that wasn't what bothered me the most. I would do what it took to bring back my son and I sensed it would take more than watching me prance around in a leotard to get him back into the world. So what bothered me so much? That was easy: I hadn't expected to enjoy it so much.

How did John know to warn me? That question added to the caldron in my mind and made me wonder how well I knew my husband. What had really happened between him and his mother?

Gary rushed by a few minutes later, trying to get to his room before he lost his load. I followed him down the hallway a couple of minutes later. Though his door wasn't completely shut, I couldn't see inside, but I heard him feverishly beating his meat and hoarsely muttering my name.

"Mom...Mom."

Whack, whack, whack.

"Mom."

Realizing I was naked outside his door, I became self-conscious and turned away. I had to pull my hand from between my legs.

I'm in control, I assured myself. I'm in control, I repeated.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

"Where are you going?" Gary asked nervously as I drove past the corner store.

"Just to the mall. It's only a little further."

"Mom, you said the store," Gary complained.

"No, I said I was worried about some tough guys hanging around the mall."

"Mom, you said the store."

"Did I? Well, you know I meant the mall. Why would tough guys be hanging around the corner store?"

"Mom, it's too far."

I put my hand on Gary's thigh, patted it to reassure him, then slid up a couple of inches, squeezed, and left my hand in place.

"It will be fine. You can stay in the car but watch me until I get inside in case there's any of those guys around."

We were already approaching the mall parking lot. I turned in and Gary pushed back into the seat, resigned and slouching, an action that pushed his hips forward, forcing his bulging jeans, warm and throbbing, onto the edge of my hand. I steered to an area of empty parking spaces far from the doors, knowing Gary would be alone and wanting to limit any possible interaction that would make him bolt. Reluctant to remove my hand from between his legs, I put the car in Park with my left and reached awkwardly through the steering wheel to turn off the ignition. I didn't want to leave the keys in the car.

"I'll be back in a jiffy, son," I said, looking around to see if anyone was nearby. We were alone. I leaned over and kissed Gary on the cheek which put pressure on my hand, the one pressing on his crotch. As I brushed my lips over his skin, I wiggled my little finger.

"Wait for me," I whispered.

I rushed off and didn't look back, afraid I might see Gary already getting out of the car.

In the mall, I rushed toward the pharmacy. I needed to buy something to make it look like there was a reason for going. I felt the urge to hurry, worried now that I hadn't gone far enough to offset Gary's fears. The lingerie store caught my eye. Why not? I hurried inside and made a bee-line directly to the young girl at the counter.

"Where are your negligee's?" I demanded abruptly.

The girl was startled but to her credit responded quickly, "Right over here," immediately leading the way.

Obviously competent, the young woman pointed me right at my size for their more expensive line. I grabbed a black, lacy set.

"I'll take this one."

Even given my whirlwind entry, the girl was taken aback by the speed of my decision but she handled it well. Sensing my urgency, she took the negligee to the counter. She didn't bother asking me if that was all I wanted.

"Will that be cash or credit card?"

"Cash."

She was already ringing it up and by the time the register spit out the receipt she had wrapped the negligee and put it in a stylish bag. She took my money, quickly returned the correct change, and thanked me for coming in. It was at that point that I noticed she was very pretty and quite healthy looking.

"I'm sorry," I said. "I'm in a real hurry."

She smiled pleasantly. "We're here to help any way we can."

"You've been awesome. Thanks."

On the way out of the mall, I ran into Sandra and her son. They were talking as they walked, both obviously interested in their conversation and each other, and looked almost like a couple rather than a mother and son. I felt a twinge of envy.

I want that with Gary.

I couldn't avoid them so I walked on, hoping they were too distracted to see me but Sandra did and smiled, clearly pleased by the encounter.

"Hello Joan. It's so nice to see you."

"Oh, hello Sandra, and Jeff," I nodded to her son.

"I'm so sorry to hear about Gary's problem with Billy."

Jeff looked uncomfortable and Sandra's face immediately took on the expression of one who realizes she's said something she shouldn't have.

"Anyway, I can see you're in a hurry. Call me if you feel like talking."

I nodded, not sure whether I was confirming that I was in a rush or that I would call. I walked away, speeding up as I neared the door. What was that all about? I pushed the incident out of my mind, worried that Gary might have fled. Had I pushed him too far? I burst through the doors and immediately locked my eyes on the car. Thank goodness! He was still there.

Relieved, Sandra's mention of Billy returned. Vanessa's son? Did he have something to do with Gary's problem? Anger flooded through me. That little bastard. I would give him a piece of my mind. More than that, I'd...

"Mom?"

I looked up. Gary had stepped out of the car.

"Are you alright? Did something happen?"

I smiled to relieve his concern. "No, I'm fine."

"You looked upset."

"No, no. I'm fine. I guess I was a bit more nervous than I thought."

I opened the car and got in. Gary did too and closed the door.

"Maybe it's genetic," he mused.

"Genetic?"

"Yeah. Maybe I got this thing from you?"

I frowned, not comprehending. Gary waved at the parking lot. Ahhh, I must have looked panicked the way I had raced to the car.

"Maybe," I said. "But we can handle it, can't we, especially if we work through it together?"

"I guess."

"Let's go home."

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

John was home when we arrived. When I opened the door he was waiting, worried as hell, but when he saw Gary with me his face relaxed. He was absolutely tickled that Gary had gone out with me. After Gary went upstairs, he hugged me and gushed, "I can't believe it, Joan. Whatever you're doing, don't stop."

I laughed nervously, needing relief too. It had been a stressful day. "Ye of little faith."

"Not anymore." John hugged me again, squeezing hard.

"Hey, be careful with the goods," I complained.

John released me. "I wouldn't want to do that, not when they're working so well."

"John!" I gasped, flashing a look upstairs.

John looked properly chastised, and lowered his voice. "It's amazing what a woman can do with a little attention and a few poses," he laughed.

"We have our ways." Thank God he thought that's all it had taken.

"You've brought back our son, Joan, and I love you for it."

"Is that all you love me for?"

"No, of course not."

The thought made me think of how inattentive my husband had been for so long and, for some reason, it made me think of what Sandra had said.

"I saw Sandra today and she said something that implied Vanessa Hammond's son might have had something to do with Gary's problem."

John looked suddenly uncomfortable.

"John, did you know about this?"

"No. Well, I heard something to that affect and thought I should have a talk with his father."

"His father? He doesn't wear the pants in that family. I'll have a talk with Vanessa."

"Joan, maybe you should just let it lie. You're having amazing success with Gary. Let's not do anything that will change that. We can deal with the Hammonds later."

That made sense and some of my anger melted away but I wasn't entirely convinced.

Gary joined us for dinner that night and John was completely blown away by his easy interaction with us. Afterwards, in bed, I had to press upon him the need for him to stay in the background so Gary didn't feel pressured.

"I still need lots of space to work with him. He's a work in progress."

"Okay, babe. I'll stay out of the way."

"I'm still pissed at Vanessa."

"It's not her fault, Joan. It's her bratty little kid."

"I know, but it makes me so mad."

"If it will make you feel better, I'll talk to her."

"Will you?"

"Of course."

"I just don't want her kid interfering now that I've got Gary on the right track."

"I'll talk to her," John consoled me.

That night I didn't sleep well. I dreamed about John and his mother engaging in forbidden acts, things way beyond what I'd done with Gary. Did I need to justify myself by imaging that John had committed worse with his mother? I was particularly unsettled when John's face was replaced with Gary's and then his mother's with mine but the worst part of the dream was when Gary became John again and his mother 's face was replaced with Vanessa's.

I looked a lot like John's mother. Some people used to joke that he had married his mother which really pissed me off because I wasn't like her at all but, now that I thought about it, Vanessa was, a lot. They had the same domineering personality whereas I was normally quite shy and even submissive. Perhaps that's why Sandra and I got along so well. Anyway, when I awoke I was uncomfortable about sending John to talk to Vanessa but reminded myself of the importance of focusing on my own mission—saving my son—especially now that success was so near.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The next day I didn't wait for Gary to start massaging the doll. I sat on the comforter in front of him and immediately peeled the body stocking from my shoulders, then launched into a long series of stretches designed to display my body rather than relax my muscles. I was grateful for all the exercising I had done and realized, ironically, that if it hadn't been for Gary's problem I wouldn't be in such good shape and ready to offer the solution which seemed poised to deliver him from a lonely fate.

Every nerve tingled as I undulated before my son, flexing my unblemished skin and supple muscles. Was this tasty feeling the one John had warned me about? Had his mother confided to him her inner feelings or had he observed it and capitalized on its intoxicating effect?

I didn't know. All I knew was I felt wonderful knowing how much my son desired me and that, by simply displaying my wares, I could make him feel so good. I could hear him now, playing with himself and openly enjoying my body, unafraid.

I swung down onto my back and started working my legs. Curling up my behind, I took us to another level, grasping the waistband of the body stocking and tugging it over my buttocks, stopping as a tease, then continuing slowly, sliding the meshed material along my thighs to my knees. I slipped the stocking over my knees and pushed it up to my feet where I hooked it on my toes and let it dangle above my face.

My bottom, now completely exposed, was thankfully pointed away from Gary. Why thankfully? Such lewd exposure seemed gross to me, as it would any woman, but I knew men loved it, except John, at least, as far as I knew. I had never done anything like this in front of my husband but in stripper bars they always pointed their ass at the customers, spreading their legs for the disgusting beaver shot. Ugghhhh.

However, I wasn't quite ready to see if it would appeal to my son. But why not? He was a typical teenager and that's why my solution was working. Should I not to the distance and let him see?

Well, if you didn't want him to see, why did you uncover yourself?

Why indeed? I lifted my legs and let the stocking drop onto my face. I couldn't bring myself to engage in such lewd behaviour without some protection, even if only this fragile anonymity. I swiveled on the floor, turning just enough for my son to get a glimpse of what I had exposed.

He gasped. I swiveled more toward him. Whack, whack, whack. I couldn't see it but I could hear his hand moving faster and faster. I turned my ass right at him, keeping my legs high and bending my knees until they were above my face. I'm a wanton little hussy!

Gary was breathing harshly, gasping for air. I could tell he was about to come. I threw my legs out and snapped up onto my knees, ripping the stocking from my face and tossing it aside. Gary's face was almost purple, so much blood and oxygen had rushed to his penis. His eyes were wide. I grabbed his cock, displacing his hand. My other hand circled his nuts and squeezed hard. Gary's eyes almost bugged out of his head but his cock softened, just a tad, but enough to halt the imminent gusher in his balls.

"I want you to go to the mall with me this afternoon," I cried.

"Okay, Mom. Okay."

"Inside," I hissed.

"Inside?"

"Yes. I want you to come inside with me."

"Mom, I can't."

"You can, if you want to enough."

"No, Mom. I can't."

"You can," I repeated. "Do you want to?"

I moved my hand up and down once. Gary's eyes widened in shock.


"Do you want to?" I repeated, stroking him a second time.

Gary nodded.

"Tell me," I demanded.

"Yes."

"You'll come?"

I stroked him twice and loosened my grip on his balls.

"Yes."

"Promise?"

I tickled his balls and started a steady stroke, up and down, up and down, slowly, gripping his cock tightly, squeezing up to the head, rubbing its underside with my thumb and grazing over the helmet with the tip of my index finger.

"I promise."

"Promise on your love for your mother."

I bent my head, blew hot breath onto his cock and fixed him with my gaze.

"I promise on my love for you."

"Well, alright then."

I pulled my hand back to fit Gary's cock between my tits, and started jacking him with a nice, regular stroke. I wiggled my tits around his engorged cock and smiled. Gary was beyond doing anything but trying to breathe which was obviously a struggle for him. He lifted his hips, trying to fuck my breasts. He was close, very close. I laughed, throatily encouraging him.

"Come," I cooed.

"I will. I promised."

"No," I said. "Come."

Ahhh, the dawning realization in his eyes as he understood my invitation was so wickedly delicious.

"Come?" he asked.

"Yes, come; on my tits."

I bent my head so I could see his purple, bloated helmet pushing through, appearing and then disappearing within my breasts. It surfaced again and I quickly blew hot breath on it.

"Oh, my God. Mom!" Gary gasped, his legs straining, going rigid.

I choked back a laugh of exhilaration. It was such a thrill to make him feel this way, this young man, my son, with his strong, young cock. I blew again, and again, and again. His legs repeatedly tensed with superhuman effort to thrust his pole through my tits.

"Come," I urged.

He was beyond answering. He could barely breathe.

"Come," I pleaded, wanting to feel his spunk splatter all over my breasts, a debasement I had never experienced before and would have rejected with disgust if asked, but not now.

The first spurt surprised me. I was expecting it on my tits, but Gary's cock released its treasure when it poked through them, lobbing a thick string of white goo onto my chin and across my lips. The second sprayed my neck and the underside of my jaw. The third came when he poked through again, onto my face.

I couldn't believe it. I pulled away as Gary's hips lurched, spasmodically dispensing the rest of his spunk. I stood, and stumbled back, turned, and ran up the stairs, needing to get clean, suddenly not wanting my son to see me shamed like that.

In the bathroom, I turned on the water and bent over to immerse myself in its cleansing stream but, at the last second, raised my head and looked at myself in the mirror. Gary's thick, sticky goo was strewn across my face and neck and was dripping onto my breasts. I laughed at my reflection.

"You wanton little bitch," I scolded myself, a crooked smile twisting my face.

Gary knocked on the bedroom door while I was washing myself.

"Mom? Mom?"

I didn't answer, and he went away. I followed a few minutes later and heard him beating himself to climax again, crying out my name. This time, the door had been left wide open but Gary didn't see me. His back was to me as he lay on his bed, hand dangling in front of himself out of my sight, moving rapidly in concert with his flexing buttocks. I loved their strength and didn't leave until they went rigid, tightly clenched until he had dispensed his second load.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

I didn't take Gary to the mall until it was almost closing time. I led him straight to the lingerie store. The young woman recognized me; I guess I had made a bit of an impression. I was amused because I could read the assumption behind the look on her face, the calculation that explained my inexplicable rush to buy a negligee on my last visit. Gary looked much more like his father than me and I could see her comprehension mixed with surprise that I would bring my young lover into the store. However, she was a quick study and moved to meet us at the negligee section before I actually turned that way.

She was more attractive than I remembered and I patted myself on the back for the choice of coming here. If this young beauty couldn't pull Gary away from me, nobody could. I set about getting her involved as directly and quickly as I could.

"I'm so glad you're still open," I gushed.

"We're about to close," she replied, indicating the partly closed sliding glass doors across the front of the store.

"Oh no," I cried. "I have an emergency. I simply must get a few things," I said, making a point of ignoring Gary but somehow managing to convey how central he was to my 'emergency'.

The girl smiled sympathetically.

"Couldn't you stay open for just a few more minutes?" I pleaded.

She was hesitant but succumbed to my desperation.

"Well," she said, looking at the expensive underwear I had picked up, "why don't you take those into the back so nobody can see you in the store while I close up. "

"Thank you. Thank you so much. You're a lifesaver. Come with me, Gary," I said, taking him into tow.

I found a fitting room in the back and started removing my dress, leaving the door open. Gary watched, obviously believing we were to be left alone and rightfully thinking I wouldn't mind. I think he was truly surprised several minutes later when I turned around and addressed the girl. He clearly didn't realize she had been there watching him watch me for a full minute before I spoke.

"What do you think?"

"I think it would look better in blue," she replied honestly.

I agreed with her assessment. This girl wasn't just interested in a sale, she was out to get a satisfied customer that would return time and again. She held up the same outfit I had taken but in midnight blue.

"Thank you," I smiled appreciatively, leaning past Gary to take the garments. "No, don't go. I need your opinion."

I glanced at Gary in disdain, acknowledging our mutual understanding of male limits regarding clothes. I started removing the first negligee, then paused.

"I should know your name if I'm going to undress in front of you."

"Maria, and you're?"

"Joan."

"And?" Maria looked at Gary.

Gary was tongue-tied. "Gary," I answered for him.

Maria smiled. "I'm here to help, Gary. There's no pressure on you."

I removed the negligee, leaving my own panties which I had kept on. I put on the blue ones, but removed my bra. I felt self-conscious about my breasts in front of this young woman but only for a moment. Gary's eyes showed me how attractive my older, not-as-firm-as-they-once-were breasts, still were. They might be less firm but they still retained their shape and my nipples were, if anything, more prominent than they were when set upon their younger selves, and easily showed through the material of the negligee.

It was my turn to be surprised when I caught a glimmer of interest in Maria's eyes. Perhaps there was more than a sales interest in this young woman. I seized upon the discovery, immediately realizing its potential to help me quickly attain my goal of getting Gary interested in a younger woman, and having her return his interest.

"That looks great on you," Maria commented.

"Do you think so?" I asked, twisting back and forth, examining myself in the mirror. "It's hard to tell with my own on underneath."

"You can take them off," Maria suggested.

"Really? Can you still sell them if I do?"

"Oh no, but we can use them as demos for the floor only."

"That's wonderful," I said, immediately taking her up on the suggestion before she changed her mind, slipping both sets of panties down my legs. I turned my bottom toward both of them as I bent over, taking my time to daintily step out of the panties, separating them, and pulling the new ones back on as I let the others drop. A weird feeling came over me. I had never undressed completely in front of a woman before.

"What do you think?" I asked, preening in front of Gary and Maria.

"Wonderful," Maria replied.

"Great, M..."

I cut Gary off before he could reveal our relationship. Not yet, anyway.

"Gary doesn't know what he's talking about," I explained to Maria, "unless he can make a comparison."

Maria smiled and nodded.

"Do you think you could help?"

"Please?" Maria sought further explanation.

"Can you help him compare?"

"I don't... "

"What are you wearing?"

"Oh, I see. Um, nothing fancy, just my regular stuff."

"I bet it's not just regular, working in a store like this. Would you mind? Just for a comparison?"

Maria shrugged, then reached behind herself to undo her dress. She fumbled with it, which surprised me, working with clothes like she did. She turned her back to me, seeking help, but I turned her toward Gary.

"Help her with her dress, honey."

Gary managed to undo the zipper and Maria actually blushed, her eyes fluttering closed. She was a real cutie. This was so much fun!

The dress hung loosely on Maria for a moment, then she shrugged and it fell to the floor. Gosh, she was built. Her breasts belied her slight frame and her slightly darker skin was beautifully textured, almost outshining the black bra and panties. They were a nice set, obviously from this store. Maria looked up, opening her eyes and standing demurely in front of me. We both acted as if Gary wasn't there.

"Come closer," I beckoned, "so he can see."

Maria stepped closer to me.

"Closer," I whispered.

Maria obeyed, until we were standing breast to breast, only an inch apart.

"What do you think, Gary?" I asked, looking over Maria's shoulder, my eyes shushing him.

After a few seconds of silence, I made a suggestion, "Perhaps if he could just concentrate on the panties? They're his favorite part."

Without waiting for an answer, I pulled the negligee off my shoulders and let it drop to the floor. I was standing naked in front of this girl, this stranger, except for my panties. I felt suddenly exposed.

Maria hesitated, then slowly reached behind herself and released her bra. She shrugged it onto her forearms and bent to let it fall off and onto the floor on top of the negligee.

"What do you think, Gary?" she asked.

"Closer," I urged.

Maria complied. Our breasts touched, electrically, nipples grazing one another. Gary's breathing became noticeable and I smiled, my lips only millimeters from Maria's.

"He looking down there," I told Maria, barely loud enough for her to hear. Maria nodded. "Come closer," I whispered, tightening my buttocks and pushing my mound forward.

Maria didn't comply but she stood her ground. Our nipples grazed past each and our breasts mashed together, then our panties met, rustling, mound to mound. Gary groaned. The heat from Maria's steamy mound almost made me swoon as our private parts sought each other, pressing, seeking alignment, then finding it as our grooves fit together, perfectly. My lips nibbled hers as I initiated our first kiss.

A key rattled in the door.

"Oh, my God. It's the manager!" Maria cried, pulling back.

I grabbed my dress from the hook and Maria stooped to pick up hers.

"Quick," she urged. "Go out the back."

We stumbled to the back of the store, both struggling to get out dresses on, Maria's face frantic except for when she looked at Gary, at his groin, and the large lump there.

"Let me help you," I gasped, pulling up her zipper.

"No, no," Maria cried, coming to her senses. "Go, you must go!"

Gary and rushed through the door. It closed quickly, but quietly. That girl was on the ball. Gary and I were outside, behind the mall. I turned my back to him. "Zip me up," I spoke calmly.

We walked around the mall to the car and were almost there when I caught Vanessa from the corner of my eye about to get into her car. I didn't slow my pace but turned my head to look at her. She held my gaze, responding with the look of a woman who had a secret. It was a triumphant look.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

John was home when we got back to the house. He offered to take us all out for dinner but settled for order-in. Gary went directly to his room.

"A setback?" John asked.

"No. Well, maybe. I'll have to see," I said.

"Well, we shouldn't be having any more problems from that Billy kid."

"Oh? You talked to Vanessa?" The image of Vanessa's superior smile flooded back into my consciousness.

"Yes," John replied.

"Then everything is settled?"

"Not quite. It's a work in progress, you might say."

I wasn't happy with his answer but it explained Vanessa's haughty expression, a look I hadn't experienced since John's mother passed away. That crooked smile meant only one thing to me: Vanessa was having, or at least initiating, an affair with my husband. Was she doing it to protect her son, to stop John from going to the authorities, or was she just doing it because she could? Had it actually been consummated, or would Vanessa be satisfied in the knowledge that she could have my man anytime she wanted?

I was surprised that I cared at this point but I did. I wanted my husband but I didn't have time to fight for him now. Not at this moment, anyway.

"Can we talk about it later? I've got to be with Gary. It was hard for him out there today."

"There's no need to talk," John said. "I'll order in."

Now I definitely knew there was a problem. I turned to go upstairs and almost stopped but managed to keep walking, though more slowly, up the stairs. The comforter was folded neatly and piled on the couch. I hadn't done that and certainly Gary wouldn't have folded it. We must have left it spread on the floor in front of the couch. I pressed on.

Gary was surprised by my entry. He sat up in bed, where he had been lying in his underwear, his hands covering his obvious erection. Leaving the door open, I went and stood close to him to help hide his indiscretion in case John followed me upstairs. From the size of his erection, I'm sure Gary was reliving the scene in the store.

"You didn't let me know if you liked the new negligee."

Gary looked up at me with a dumb expression on his face.

"I guess we were in a pretty big hurry to leave," I smiled.

Gary nodded.

"So maybe you can tell me now, before our dinner arrives."

My hands, which had been hanging by my sides, began sliding my dress up. Gary's eyes widened and he looked around me to his open door and the hallway beyond. His father was out there somewhere he knew, but upstairs or downstairs?

I didn't tell him. My hands rose further, raising the hem slowly, each inch further impairing Gary's breathing, until it was apparent that I was still wearing the blue negligee. Gary's eyes were riveted on my legs, or more accurately, on the shiny blue negligee now being gathered with my dress as it continued its journey up my legs. I kept pulling and knew the instant the blue panties appeared by the loud gasp Gary released.

"From now on, I want you to take me anywhere I want to go, shopping, hiking, swimming, biking, anywhere."

Gary mumbled something.

"I can't hear you."

"Yes, mother."

"You promise?"

"Yes, mother."

"Good."

I placed my right foot a half-step to the side, parting my legs. Gary stared but didn't do anything. I swayed my hips, bringing the blue panties closer to him.

"Do they look nice?" I asked.

"Yes," he croaked.

"Do they smell nice?'

Gary looked up but quickly looked back down. I put my hand on top of his head but didn't direct him in any way. He leaned forward an inch, and breathed in, deep.

It was an outrageous request. Gary didn't need any further motivation to go outside. I knew he would follow me to the mall just to see Maria again, that I could slowly disentangle myself, leaving them alone, with each other. Maybe that's why I was doing this, because I was afraid of losing my son completely. I needed to give him a little more to make sure he never left me for good.

The phone rang. I heard John answer it but he didn't call out. It was for him, which was strange because he hardly ever received calls at home. His voice lowered and then I could barely hear him but not enough to hear what was being said. Was it Vanessa?

Gary breathed in again, a long, very deep breath, then exhaled slowly. He had closed his eyes.

I looked over my shoulder, down the hall. I still couldn't hear what John was saying. I looked at my hand, still resting on top of Gary's head. I pulled, urging it forward.

"Do they taste good?" I whispered, my voice trembling.

Gary's head tipped forward until his nose pressed into my blue puffiness, then straightened a little as he thrust his chin forward. I felt his hand sliding up between my thighs. My own breathing became as ragged as his. Something warm and wet graced my mound, his tongue.

My knees buckled and I lurched forward. Gary's free arm circled around my waist and the hand between my legs rose up to take some of my weight but his mouth, his mouth remained latched on the blue, silk panties. Gary's tongue dug into the furrow between my lips as his mouth surrounded me, chewing. I fell further forward, losing my balance, but Gary's hand no longer held me up, it was exploring, seeking, squiggling inside the panties. He was leaning back, across the bed, slowing my fall, his encircling arm keeping me from sliding off, holding me in place, on his mouth.

We collapsed with a silent bang, the bedsprings the only announcement of the illegal coupling of his mouth and my pussy. I hadn't even tried to break my fall. The panties were being dragged down by Gary's hand, its fingers hooked through the bottom. His mouth made contact with my bareness and his tongue immediately snaked into my cunt.

I was holding his ears though I couldn't remember grabbing them. I pulled, trying to get his tongue further inside me, directing it, churning my hips over his face.

"Eat it!" I raged.

"Unnghhh," I cried as his thick fingers shoved into me.

I humped his face, unconcerned for his comfort and no longer worried about my husband. I tried to tell Gary what to do but it came out garbled. I had lost it, lost all control. I ravaged his face, coming already, unbelievably, coming already. I turned my face into the bed and bit the covers, filling my face, muffling my orgasm, legs spastically jerking off the other side of the bed. I was done, relaxing, flooding with relief. I got up on my knees, worked my way back and then stood up, fitted the panties around my sex and smoothed the dress down over my legs.

"Dinner will be here soon," I said, as if that's what I'd come upstairs to say.

The doorbell rang.

"It's here. Don't be long." I looked down at Gary, still sitting in his swollen underwear. "I'll take care of that later."

I turned and left. The self-recriminations started before I even reached the stairs. I had lost control, but worse, there hadn't even been a struggle. I had no excuse and could no longer cover my actions with illusions of helping my son.

I wanted him. That was the cold, harsh reality. If his cock hadn't been trapped inside his underwear, I might have forced myself upon it. The very thought of his youthful pole squeezing inside me made my legs weaken with desire, sending me sideways into the wall.

Get hold of yourself!

I had to recover, to refocus on my goal. Get Gary out of the house. Check. Get him acquainted with a girl. Check. Get him involved with said girl. In progress. What had happened wasn't a disaster. In fact it was a stroke of good fortune for it afforded me the excuse to show Gary just how exquisite a woman's attention can be. I owed him for what he had done in the bedroom and I would show him, then explain how I couldn't go further because I was his mother. He would have to understand that. However, Maria could and I would offer to invite her over to get things started. I straightened up and moved forward with a new sense of purpose. I had a plan and the will to put it into effect.

The doorbell rang again.

"I've got to go. Yes, tomorrow. Okay. Really, I have to go."

John had been on the phone all this time? The hair rose on the back of my neck. I had intended to deal with Gary tonight and then turn my attention to my husband tomorrow but it sounded like I had better start with John sooner rather than later. Gary would have to wait until tomorrow.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

I feigned weariness and escaped to my bedroom much earlier than usual. There, I made a few minor preparations: placing a picture of John's mother on my bedside table, putting on a little makeup so I would look like she did at my age, and dressing in one of her full-length, thin flannel nightgowns that I retrieved from a box in the attic. I was pleased with its low cut neckline. I had never seen her wear anything like it, only the ones that came right up to her neck, yet there were piles more like this in her things. I waited. About an hour later, I heard John's footsteps approaching and was exiting the bathroom with the light behind me just as he entered the room.

The additional attention he paid me was obvious though I doubt John was aware of it or that he would know why if he was. I managed to draw his attention to my body with an ease that was surprising given his lack of interest for the past year or more. I knew when I crawled under the covers that his meeting with Vanessa was far from his mind and I was glad that John turned out the light quickly so I could hide the triumphant smile that couldn't be stricken from my face. John's hands quickly sought me out, tentatively at first but when they weren't rebuffed he nestled in behind me. He was excited, very excited.

"I'm tired, John," I complained but rubbed my bottom against his stiffness despite my words.

He nibbled my neck, something I loved. I wondered if his mother liked it too? John's hand rubbed over my hip, pulling me back more firmly against his hard cock. Did she like it like that, from behind? We hardly ever did it that way, just the few times we'd both been drinking heavily at parties. I pushed back and wiggled my bum.

"I'm so tired, John." I paused, to let the disappointing feeling of rejection sink in, then continued, "Too tired to help you much."

I lifted my bottom up and let it settle onto his throbbing hardness, then turned my face into the pillow. John's hands immediately started dragging the long nightgown up my legs. His breathing was already harsh and became positively ragged as he pushed the hem up and over my buttocks. His cock quickly followed, stabbing aimlessly. I groaned and twisted my hips toward the bed, away from his probing organ but opened my legs. He leaned over me, nestling between my legs and pushing them farther apart as his cock probed my pussy. I was surprised how wet I was. I moaned and John shoved himself inside me, his hands encircling my waist and then slipping up inside the bodice of the nightgown to grasp my tits.

"Oh God, it's been so long," he whispered, starting to fuck me.

Yes, it has, I thought but then his words jarred me. What did he mean by so long? Since he'd been with me, or his mother?

John was up to full speed already, slamming his cock in and jerking it out, showing no finesse or sense of control. His hands squeezed my tits roughly as he banged about on my ass, huffing and puffing with the effort. I cocked my hips and shoved my ass up off the bed, following him on the out-stroke, moaning loudly to show him how much I loved it. And I did! I was so wet, the sound of his cock squelching in my pussy filled the bedroom, even though we were still covered. The words just popped out of my mouth.

"Fuck it, fuck it!"

"I am, I will," John cried, increasing his effort.

I pushed my ass higher and felt him rise up to position himself above me. His feet were beside my knees and his hands slipped from my tits to grip my waist, holding me as he sunk his shaft in deep, kept me still as he pulled out and banged back inside, expelling his breath, then again and again and again. I hung my head and propped it against the pillow, bracing myself for the onslaught, meeting each thrust with a welcoming parry of my own.

It seemed like John fucked me like that for hours but the intensity was deceiving; it was over in just a few minutes. John pulled out and dragged the nightgown down to cover my ass. I reached back to tug it down to my knees and when I stretched my legs John pulled the nightgown down to my ankles. I kept my face hidden in the pillow as he arranged the covers over me. John went into the bathroom to clean himself but when he returned I remained hidden in the pillow as if we had done something illicit. We went to sleep without uttering a word to each other.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

"Gary. Gary, are you out here?"

No answer. I closed the back door and searched the house again. He was gone. I called his phone but heard it ringing in his room. Panic visited me again. I ran downstairs just as the door opened and Gary came in.

"Gary!" I cried. "Where have you been?"

"At the mall," he answered nonchalantly. "I had a coffee with Maria."

"You had a coffee with Maria?" I repeated, dumbfounded.

"Yeah."

"Oh. Are you hungry?" I asked, still disconcerted. "I'll make you something."

"No. I had a scone."

"Oh." I looked around the living room, spotted the comforter still folded up on the couch, then looked down at my skirt and blouse.

"Why don't you spread the comforter then and I'll get changed."

"You don't need to get changed."

"You don't want me to get changed?'

I was perplexed. What was happening? Why didn't Gary want to see me in the revealing body stocking? Jealousy flooded inexplicably through me. Of course. He had just seen Maria. So it had happened that fast? He had given me over so quickly for that little bit of fluff?

I had reached my goal but felt little exultation that it had been achieved. I knew Gary would lose interest in me but hadn't expected it to hit me like a train or to be thrown off a cliff. I moved quickly to the couch, pulled the comforter off and spread it out on the rug. The doll tumbled out. It was naked. I stared at it. John must have found it and placed it within the folded comforter. I was still fixated on it when Gary sat down. I swung my gaze toward him.

"You don't want me to change?" I asked again.

Gary shook his head and held his hand out, toward the doll. I picked it up and handed it to him. Gary took the doll but held onto my hand, pulling me toward him and down. I knelt before him. Gary laid the doll on his lap, face down. I looked at it, confused, my mind a muddle, then slowly came to grips with the message he was sending. Of course, last night, I had said, "I'll take care of that later." But there was no need. Gary was up and about on his own initiative. I didn't need to do this. I shouldn't do it, and I should tell him it was out of the question. I picked up the doll, and tossed it onto the couch. Gary smiled, and waited for my next move.

My hand returned to his lap, found the waistband of his shorts, and gripped it. My other hand found his zipper and pulled it down. I stopped.

"Take it out, Mother."

I was shocked by his confidence and the commanding tone of his voice but I followed his instructions without question, pulling his underwear down with one hand and lifting his wonderfully virile cock with the other. I waited for further instructions but none came. I pulled my hand up, then pushed it down, up and then down, the growing stiffness of the meat in its grasp sending a thrill up my arm and into my brain. It had become hard so quickly, and grown so large.

When I reached a steady rhythm, Gary leaned forward and grasped my blouse above the top button. I pushed his cock toward him to give him room to unbutton my blouse but he surprised me, yanking his hands down and out, ripping my blouse open. Buttons flew everywhere and I gasped, yanking back on his cock but holding onto it to keep myself upright. Gary laughed, and reached for my tits. He squeezed them for a minute or two, roughly like John had the night before, but soon released them.

His hands found a new home, on my head. Gently but firmly, he tipped it forward until my mouth was hovering over his cock. Gary kept applying pressure until his tip dipped into my mouth on each upward jack. I could have stopped it by simply stilling my hand, but I didn't. I kept jacking him off and he kept pushing my mouth further and further onto his hard cock. Soon it was slick with my saliva which I produced more of the further he pulled my head onto his cock.

Each time Gary pulled my mouth far down his shaft, he held me there for a few seconds before allowing me to pull off. Eventually, it was all I could do to gulp in some air before he pulled me onto his pole again, holding me down until my head shook with the need for oxygen. My head popped off with a wet, sucking inhalation and air rushed into my lungs through my mouth which drooled all over my son's eager cock. Then came the drop, as far down as I could manage. Eventually I reached his root and Gary held me down longer, groaning, a sound I loved so much I twisted my head about, rubbing my lips in his pubic hair. He was using me, and I loved it!

There was no warning when he came. When his cock erupted, I had him fully inside my mouth, and his seed spilled like a flow of lava that couldn't be contained. I tried to swallow it all but some dripped out, squeezing past my lips and running down his shaft. Gary loosened his hold so he could sink back into the couch but I leaned forward, following his cock, licking it, sucking the tip, licking the shaft, kissing the tip. I wasn't ready for it to end.

Gary got up after that and made himself something to eat despite telling me he wasn't hungry. I went upstairs to change my blouse. The rest of the day, Gary ignored me. By early afternoon, I was strutting around, trying to draw his attention to me. In desperation, I unbuttoned my blouse and literally hung my tits in front of him as he watched TV.

Gary looked at my tits, then up into my eyes. He stood and turned me around, sitting me down on the comforter with my back to the couch. Grabbing a couple of pillows, he stuffed them behind me. He undid his shorts and pulled his cock out which was already unlimbering to its full length. I felt triumphant, soaking in the thrill of confirmation, the satisfaction of making him hard. Gary grabbed my feet and pulled me down until my head was propped against the edge of the couch.

"No, Gary. You can't. We can't actually do it."

But he wasn't spreading my legs, or trying to lift my skirt. Gary straddled me and waddled past my knees until his cock was in front of my face. I understood then and, despite my need to deny him, felt disappointment. I grabbed his cock and started jacking it but he batted my hands away. I tried again with the same result. Finally, I leaned forward and took his tip into my mouth. He smiled and nodded.

Slowly, Gary began fucking my mouth, casually flexing his hips, each time shoving more and more of his meat into my face. Whenever I tried to exert some control by taking him in hand, he batted my hand away. Finally, he grabbed both hands and firmly planted them on either side of me along the front edge of the couch. Even when I let them fall to the floor, Gary replaced my hands on the couch. So I lay there, arms stretched out wide beside me, as my son fucked my face.

He took much longer to come the second time but released less spunk and was careful to get it all inside my mouth, leaving no mess to clean up on my face. He grasped my hair and gently turned my face up to look at him. His other hand reached down and quickly snaked up my skirt. Grazing his fingers over the gusset of my panties, he told me how he understood that I couldn't bring myself to be with him that way.

"I know you can't, Mom. I guess I'll just have to lose my virginity with Maria when I'm ready."

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

I had more sex in the next week than at any other time in my life. During the day I sucked Gary or had my face fucked at least twice, and sometimes more. I was flabbergasted by how much I liked having his cock in my mouth. I had never enjoyed going down on a man, even John, but the feel of Gary's shaft sliding through my lips made me wet. Go figure. On the down side, Gary never put his mouth on me again. He did finger me after coming every time, playing with my cunt longer each time, but always leaving me hanging.

At night, I was so horny I was ready to rape John. I dug every sexy nightgown out of the attic that his mother had owned. It was a ritual after supper for me to go upstairs, put on a nightgown but no panties, apply old style makeup and wait in bed for my husband to fuck me, or rather, the memory of his mother. John always did me from behind, clambering aboard, straddling my thighs and rocking his cock in and out until we both came, literally out of breath. Each time, I hid my face as he gently rearranged my nightgown, and not a word was spoken.

Gary started fingering me at various times during the day, usually catching me by surprise. Unable to predict when he would 'attack', I always wore a skirt or a dress and never wore panties. The downer was that he never took me all the way. He always left me hanging but that didn't stop me from opening my legs the second I felt his hands slithering up my skirt, and I squirmed on his fingers all the more frantically.

He liked to fuck my face while I was sitting up in bed. He had made up a couple of small ropes with wide loops at each end, one end of which he would loop over the headboard posts and the other around my hands. It didn't make sense because they were so loose I could slip my hands out at any time but I never did. I dutifully kept my hands in place until he was finished and often stayed like that long after he was gone.

I didn't even try to free myself when Gary started undressing me completely, not even when he spread my legs and pressed his knee against my sex while he shoved his cock in and out of my mouth. One day, he didn't put his cock in my mouth but instead kissed and licked my tits and sucked my nipples in so hard I almost came twice. He rubbed his cock all over me and once hovered over my pussy and blew his hot breath on it.

"Let go," he whispered. "Free yourself."

I thought about what Gary said and wondered why he liked to tie me up in ropes that couldn't possibly hold me. I think I knew why. He had imprisoned himself in his room. Only he kept himself there, and only he could free himself. Oh, maybe he couldn't have done it without my help but it wouldn't have happened if he hadn't wanted it to and only he could keep himself free. He was trying to show me that I was living in my own prison and, in his own way, he was trying to show me the way out.

Gary left early every morning now but was home before lunch for the first facefuck of the day. One such morning, after he had finished, he leaned close to me and whispered, "Maria's going to be ready for me soon."

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Maria's going to be ready for him soon, or, more to the point, he was going to be ready for her. I had won! My plan had worked and all the sacrifice, no matter how taboo, no matter how forbidden, no matter how wrong, it had been worth it. And but for the suspicions of a few—Sandra, whom I could trust and Vanessa whom I could deal with—no one was the wiser.

Except maybe John. Perhaps he didn't really know how far I had gone, despite finding the doll and the comforter spread out on the living room floor, or maybe he was wilfully blind. Once, I would have believed in his naivety but no more. Not after finding out about his visits to Vanessa who was so much like his mother, or experiencing his passion when I put on old fashioned makeup and dressed in his mother's night clothes. No, I was sure John knew, and he had warned me.

Gary was going to lose his virginity soon, maybe as early as tomorrow. He was going to give it to the girl I had introduced him to, after all I had done for him. He was going to give it to her, and now I wanted it!

I looked at my watch. The mall was closing soon so I grabbed my purse and ran out the door. I would deal with Maria once and for all.

The route to the mall was a blur. Luckily I encountered no pedestrians or cyclists. I roared into the lot and parked in front of the doors, in a handicapped space. Slamming the car door, I rushed inside. The sliding storefront was already pulled almost closed. I walked toward them, past the few straggling shoppers remaining in the mall. A girl exited the lingerie store. It wasn't Maria but she was wearing a name tag. I remembered seeing her before. She worked there too so maybe Maria wasn't working today. I hurried to ask her if Maria was working tomorrow. I expected her to turn around to pull the door shut but she just walked away. I was in luck, someone was still inside. The manager, or Maria?

I slipped through the door. Maria entered from the backroom, saw me and smiled. I walked purposely toward her.

"Hello," she greeted me cheerfully. "It's so nice to see you. I was hoping to see you and your friend again. It's been so long I thought you weren't coming back."

I was taken aback by her words. She hadn't seen us? She meant me, she couldn't mean Gary. He'd been coming here every morning for weeks now.

"I'll just lock up. Why don't you grab something and take it out back. I'll be right with you."

Maria walked past me toward the door. I half turned to watch her as she went by. She seemed genuinely pleased to see me, and surprised too.

"You didn't bring your friend with you?"

"No," I replied.

"That's okay. Men don't know anything about clothes, anyway."

I walked into the back room and stood at the entrance to the fitting room. I dropped my purse on the seat and turned to wait for Maria. I hadn't picked up anything to try on since I still thought we were about to have a confrontation. I was sure that Maria had made the suggestion to get me out of the front part of the store, but I was wrong. She appeared in the doorway holding a dainty, sexy red negligee.

"You forgot to get something so I picked one out that should look gorgeous on you."

Maria walked toward me, the negligee dangling from her hand. I started to speak, to accuse her of seducing my son but for some reason held my tongue. Maria hung the negligee on the hook on the inside of the open fitting room door.

"Here, let me help you," she said, starting to unbutton my blouse.

I can't explain why I didn't react. I stood there while this young woman whom I had only met twice removed my blouse, tugging the ends out of my skirt to do the bottom two buttons, and peeling it down my arms. She put the blouse on a hanger and hung it behind me on a separate hook on the fitting room wall. As she reached past me, I noted how pretty her perfume was and that she seemed to pause so I could take the time to smell it. Maria stepped back but remained close so she could reach around me to undo my bra. Our chests touched.

"Gary hasn't been in... to buy me anything?" I asked.

"Gary? Oh, your friend? No, he hasn't. I'm sure he meant to but they forget, don't they?"

The bra was loose and Maria was pulling it around to the front, dragging it off my shoulders and down my arms. I straightened them and held them in front of myself to make it easier to take off but kept my arms together, hiding my breasts and especially my nipples which were stiffening despite my self-conscious pleas. Maria draped the bra over my purse on the seat.

"So he hasn't been in?"

"I haven't seen him," Maria said. "Let's get this skirt off, shall we?"



She loosened the skirt and knelt down as she pushed it over my hips and let it fall slowly down my legs, tracing a path down the outside of each one with her thumbs as she held the skirt. I stepped out of it and Maria stood, picked up a hanger with built-in pegs and hung the skirt neatly on the hook holding my blouse.

She turned back, looked me up and down, and asked, "Would you like to compare it to the one I'm wearing, like last time?"

Maria didn't wait for an answer. She reached behind herself and unzipped her dress. I was falling from her shoulders by the time my brain registered what she was doing.

"I'm not... uh, I'm not..."

Maria wasn't wearing a bra and her breasts, tanned and beautiful, sprang off her chest with youthful enthusiasm. Unlike my own which, though great for my age still sagged a little, they were firm and supple. Maria swayed toward me and grasped my hands in hers. If she thought I was going escape, she was wrong. My feet were as fixed to the floor as my eyes were fixated on her breasts.

"I like yours better," she said.

"I'm not, I'm not, uh..." I stammered.

"Neither am I," Maria whispered, her fingers loosening around my hands and sliding up my arms.

My eyes flickered to her face. Maria was staring at my breasts as her fingers tickled up my arms, her lips quivering in concert with my vibrating nipples. Her fingertips rounded my shoulders and traced a line along the ridge into the hollow of my neck, circled several times, then trailed down to the upper swelling of my breasts. She was so confident, so in control.

"Maria," I whispered, my mouth dry and voice hoarse. "Really, I'm not a lesbian."

"Neither am I," she whispered, "but you're so beautiful."

The tip of Maria's index fingers collided with my nipples and pushed, bending them over, and holding them like that.

"I love your nipples. They're so...there!"

"Yours will be too, in time."

"Yours weren't always so..."

"Prominent?"

"Yes."

"No, but my breasts weren't so soft, either. They used to be firm like yours. As you get older, they'll soften up and lose some of their mass which will make your nipples stand out more."

"Are they more sensitive?"

"I think so." I sucked in my breath as Maria pushed her fingertips past, allowing my nipples to snap erect. "I can't remember for sure."

"I wish mine were like yours."

I gasped as Maria pinched my nipples between thumbs and forefingers, holding them gently.

"And I yours," I whispered, reaching up to cup her firmer breasts.

We stood there, caressing each other's breasts, eyes alternating between tits and face, breaths shortening and coming more quickly.

"If we're not, you know, then why are we doing this?" I asked.

"I don't know," Maria asked. "Who cares? No one's watching."

A streak of fear suddenly ran through me.

"Your manager, he's not..."

"No." Maria corrected me, "She's at her other store."

I relaxed and my pelvis contacted Maria's. She pushed back, melding our panties.

"Mmmmm, this is nice," Maria said. "Why can't men be like this?"

"I don't know," I replied, gently twisting to the left and back, pressing my panties more firmly into Maria's.

We rocked together like that for a couple of minutes, neither letting go of the other's nipples, in limbo except that our pussies pressed together more firmly and actually rubbed against each other.

"Can I kiss you?" Maria asked, leaning toward me, already knowing the answer.

"I..."

Her mouth was on mine. Her tongue didn't follow. It was longer than I expected and surprisingly nice. I liked it.

Maria pulled back but only half an inch. Her lips brushed over mine teasingly, then slipped around to my cheek and up to my ear lobe, nibbled it, then dropped onto my neck where the tip of her tongue appeared, trailing slickly out to the edge of my shoulder. She returned to nibble my face around the edge of my lips.

"Does your husband know about your young man?"

"He knows who he is," I responded truthfully.

"That's not what I asked."

"I know."

"That's quite a coup, bagging someone so young, but looking at you, feeling you, I can understand why he's attracted to you."

"Am I more interesting because I have a young man?"

I nibbled on Maria's face as she paused to consider my question.

"I don't know. Yes, I think it does."

Maria resumed her caresses. We were now trading kisses and nibbles, each still working the other's nipples.

"You're not much older than Gary," I whispered, rubbing my panties across hers.

"I'm not attracted to younger men," she laughed.

"But you are to older women?"

"Not until now."

"You don't know the half of it," I said, immediately regretting my loose tongue.

"You avoided my question. Does your husband know about Gary?"

"I'm not sure. I think maybe he does," I answered truthfully.

"Is that the half of it?"

Maria released my nipples and let her hands circle around my waist, down my back, and onto my ass. I followed suit.

"No."

"There's more?"

"Yes."

I replied thickly. Maria had slipped her hand around and pushed it between us, cupping my pussy. I did the same and was pleased when she gasped in response. We each rubbed the front of the other's panties, found each other's grooves, and explored gently.

Maria sighed. "You're so wicked. Did you let him find out on purpose?"

"No. I really don't know if he knows for sure but I suspect he does."

"Tell me more you wicked bitch."

"Ungghhh," I moaned. Maria had raised her hand up above my panties, slipped her fingers inside, and pushed them down, skidding in perfect alignment through my slick groove.

"Tell me," she rasped, curling the tip of her finger inward, probing my entrance, and pushing inside.

It had to be her long finger because it reached deep. I was about to speak, to reveal my secret, when Maria's tongue filled my mouth. It was an exquisite kiss, my very first with a woman. By the time it ended, my back was to the wall but Maria's body had followed mine, and my finger was inside her. Hers had become thicker and I realized that sometime during the kiss, Maria had slipped another finger inside me.

"Show me how wicked you are," she urged.

Her fingers pushed and twisted as Maria lowered her mouth to my breast and sucked my nipple deep into her mouth.

"Oh God," I cried.

"Tell me," Maria hissed. "I know there's something more. Tell me." Her mouth latched onto my tit again and sucked hard while her fingers pushed in so deep my pelvis lifted and my hips bucked toward her.

"He's my son," I cried. "Gary is my son!"

Maria lifted her head, and stared at me, mouth open.

"He's my son," I whimpered, shame overwhelming me despite the conviction that what I was doing was right. An obscure part of my brain noted how deep must run the courage of the righteous.

Maria's head shook slowly from side to side, unbelieving.

"I had to," I wailed. "He needed me."

"You had sex with him?" Maria was incredulous.

"Not yet."

Her mouth was on me, her fingers slipped out and her hand curled around my waist, pulling me tight. The kiss was urgent, yearning, until Maria abruptly pulled away.

"But you're going to, right? You will let him, won't you?"

Her eyes were feverish, demanding. I nodded hesitantly. "Maybe."

"You must! And you'll tell me when you do, right?"

"Yes." I don't know why I committed to do that. At the moment, it was important for Maria to know that I would.

"Good."

Maria tugged my panties over my hips and pushed them onto my thighs. I thought she would kneel then to pull them further like she had with my skirt but instead she pushed her own panties down. Quickly, she pressed into me, our bare pussies mashing together.

"Please do let him fuck you. That would be so cool, so fucking awesome."

Maria pulled on my waist, yanking me hard onto her pussy, as if she was fucking me.

"God, you're so hot. If I had a son, I'd fuck him too."

"Shut up," I cried, encircling her waist and pulling her pussy onto mine.

Maria moved her hands around and grabbed my nipples again. Her mouth found mine and we kissed, tongues moving back and forth, slipping around each other, entwining, while our hips bucked together. Our bodies writhed, moving frantically, two women, neither a lesbian, making love, or at least fucking each other.

When it was over and we were sitting on the floor where we had collapsed, limbs entwined, hugging and nuzzling one another, Maria spoke first.

"You're an amazing woman."

"No, I'm not."

"Yes, you are. You have the courage to love your son, because he needs you. How many women could do that?"

Laughing, I said, "I don't think many would consider it courageous."

"But it is," Maria insisted.

"I came here today because I was jealous, because Gary wants you."

The moment I said it I realized that it wasn't true. Gary had only used the prospect of sex with Maria to make me jealous. He wanted me, just as I wanted him.

"I would love to be with him, if it was alright with you."

I didn't answer.

"But it doesn't matter. I'd like to be with you again. I have a small apartment."

I put my fingers on Maria's lips.

"We'll see," I said.

"I'll give you the address just in case. You don't have to phone. Just come, anytime, day or night."

I laughed. "Do my wicked ways turn you on?"

"You don't know the half of it." Maria laughed.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

I avoided Gary until the next afternoon. I went for a long walk in the morning, making sure I wasn't there when he returned from his supposed visit with Maria but I didn't call him on it. I wasn't sure if I should go through with it despite my desire and Maria's urging. To take him inside me was a huge step, one neither of us could ever forget. Could I be sure that Gary really wanted to, that he wouldn't regret it years later?

Gary was home, waiting for me when I got back from my walk. He was sitting in the kitchen, on a stool, the bulge in his shorts showing how much he missed me. I turned up the stairs instead of going into the kitchen. The stool scraped on the kitchen floor as Gary got up to follow me. I loosened my skirt and let it drop on the stairs, then started unbuttoning my blouse. Gary caught up in time to stand in the doorway as I tossed my blouse on the floor, quickly shrugged out of my bra, and slipped my panties over my ass. I crawled onto the bed and slipped my left hand through the loop of the left rope that Gary had already hung on the posts while awaiting my arrival. Turning my back to the headboard, I reached out and sipped my right hand through its loop, then settled in against the stacked pillows and waited for Gary's cock.

"Hurry," I said, spreading my legs, something I had never done before.

Gary pushed his shoulder off the door jamb and nonchalantly walked toward me as if he didn't have a care in the world. What a change I had wrought in him. I wondered if it was all good.

Gary shucked his shirt and pushed his shorts to the ground. Naked, he stood, tall and straight, his cock hanging in front of him, already hard and ready. I flexed my toes.

"Hurry, I need you."

"You need me?" he drawled, strutting around to the side of the bed.

I smiled. "Ah, payback time for all the teasing you endured?" I asked.

"I owe you," Gary replied.

"Didn't you enjoy it?"

"Absolutely. That doesn't mean I don't owe you."

"That's true," I admitted. "So make me pay."

"I will," he husked, his voice inadvertently revealing how much he wanted me.

I pulled my knees up and pressed my legs together, tilting them away from his so the underside of my thighs and ass would show.

"Make me," I husked.

Gary got up on the bed and stood with his feet on either side of my thighs

"Make you what?" he demanded.

"Do things," I replied. "Before my husband gets home."

"I heard you last night. You were doing filthy things, weren't you?"

I didn't answer.

"Weren't you," Gary demanded, slapping my knees aside. I let them drop, slightly open so he could see how swollen and ready my bare pussy was.

Gary grabbed my head and roughly turned my face up toward him. This was unlike him. He had never been rough with me before.

"I don't want you doing things for him."

"I have to. He's my husband."

"Just go through the motions like you're always done."

The truth hurt. The sex life in my marriage had always been about going through the motions.

"Make me," I taunted my son.

I wanted him to fuck me, to take me, like Maria suggested, but he had to do it; I couldn't bring myself to offer it. He had to take me. I opened my legs wide and flexed my legs, shamelessly presenting my throbbing pussy.

"Make me," I repeated.

I wanted him to know things were different now, that I was available, that he could have me, but I couldn't just tell him. Gary bent his knees and rubbed his cock over my face but instead of trying to capture it as usual, I turned my head away. I didn't want the same old, same old from him. Couldn't he see I had changed my mind, that I wanted him to fuck me?

"Make me," I hissed, thrashing my open legs.

Misinterpreting me, Gary grabbed my head and forced my mouth open before shoving his cock into my mouth. I suffered half a dozen gurgling thrusts before he pulled out and released my head but I stayed on course.

"Make me," I said.

I pulled my knees up, tucked my feet between his legs and under his chest to hold them against the headboard above my head. My pussy was lewdly displayed, wet and swollen, as ready for it as it ever had been.

"Make me," I said.

Gary knelt above my pelvis, moved closer until his cock brushed over the back of my thighs. One part of my mind screamed for me to stop him while the other readied myself for his first, forbidden penetration. But he didn't enter me. Instead, he grazed his cock over my pussy, from one thigh to the other, then slipped up and pushed it deep between my legs until its tip touched my tits. He dragged it upward then, onto my face, across my chin and lips, over my nose, slid down to press against each closed eyelid.

"You want it, you know you do."

I shook my head. "Make me."

At least he had the right idea. Gary lowered himself until his cock landed on my pussy. He tapped my swollen lips and rubbed his cock sideways across them, then slid it lengthways along the full span of his long shaft.

"Take it," he whispered.

"I can't," I cried, lowering my legs.

Gary grabbed my feet and pressed them back against the headboard. Straddling my thighs, he dipped his cock and rubbed it along my groove.

"You can do it."

"Make me."

"No. You have to take it."

"I can't."

Gary dropped onto the bed, his hands sliding from my ankles to the back of my knees. He dipped his head and his mouth covered my pussy. I moaned, then wailed when his tongue slipped into my crevice and gouged through the sloppy trough. I was so wet, so fucking wet.

"Gary, I can't, I just can't."

"Yes, you can."

He stood and rubbed his cock through my slushy slit, then held the head above my opening, pressing down but not enough to dip inside.

"Take it," he croaked.

"No! Make me," I cried, jerking my pussy away.

Gary let my legs fall, hooked his arms under my knees, and stepped back, pulling me to the center of the bed. My arms stretched out and almost fell through the loops but my fingers closed over the rope to keep me captive. Gary tugged and I gripped the rope tighter. He pulled harder but couldn't break my grip so he leaned over me and grabbed my left hand, then deliberately pried my fingers open and tossed the rope off to the side, out of my reach. He did the same with my right hand. I was free, physically.

Still holding me with his elbows crooked behind my knees, Gary lifted me up from the bed by my legs but my head and shoulders dangled onto the mattress. His cock slid between my thighs, rubbing over my pussy.

"Free yourself, Mom. Take it."

"I can't," I cried. "You have to make me."

"No. You know what you want, Admit it to yourself and take it."

"I can't."

Gary didn't speak again but he didn't release me. He kept rubbing his cock back and forth over my pussy. It was a contest between my ability to abstain and his endurance. I knew he couldn't hold me up forever, that he would tire, but his desire would build. I knew I wasn't the only one tortured by the rubbing of his cock over my pussy. He would tire, succumb, and then take me. I met his teasing strokes with slick, nibbling rubs of my own.

Despite the struggle, neither of us allowed cock and pussy to part. We rubbed and teased each other mercilessly. Eventually, I realized that neither of us was capable of pulling apart but slowly, I sensed that Gary was gaining the upper hand. I was shocked. How could a young man in his prime outlast me, an older, mature, experienced woman?

Time. That was the answer. Once he got over the initial hump, all Gary had to do was stoke the embers, patiently awaiting the slow-growing desire built into every woman. The longer this continued, the weaker I became. I tried to pull away but he wouldn't let me, rubbing his cock incessantly over my now super-sensitive pussy lips.

"Please Gary, don't" I cried.

He didn't reply but renewed his rubbing with greater vigor. I pulled away but he lifted me until my shoulders no longer touched the bed. My legs locked around his hips and Gary sawed his cock over my pussy, for all intent and purposes, fucking me, except he wasn't inside. Gary's elbows clutched my hips and waist and his hands reached under my shoulders, urging me closer. My legs tightened around his waist.

I was losing. The tip of his cock was nudging my entrance. I clutched his waist, trying to lift myself closer, to force his tip higher, onto my mound so I wouldn't accidentally pull it in me , but he pulled away, keeping it on my slit which was so wide now, so wet, more a gully than a groove. I moaned.

"Gary don't."

He sawed through my slickness, then stopped, his head notched in my slit. Oh God, it felt so good, so fucking, fucking good. I let it sink in, just a little. So fucking good, so filling, even just this innocent dip.

He pulled back! No, don't. I tightened my legs, lifting myself, following it, following his cock. There, yes, just that little dip, so slick and warm, pressing my lips open. I could do this, just this.

Gary pulled away again. I hooked my ankles firmly together and lunged upward, capturing him, felt his tip nudge into my slit, then start to slip away... no, no, I yanked myself upward, felt it shove in, thicken, so wide, stretching, then suddenly become narrower. He had popped inside me.

No, that wasn't true. I had pulled him inside.

"Yeah, Mom. Take it all the way."

"Oh God, Gary. I'm sorry, so sorry."

"Take it," he hissed.

I constricted my calf muscles again and felt his blunt cock force my walls open a few more inches as he filled me.

"Ohhhhh Gawwwddd," I cried, straining my hips upward, pulling his thing into me, deep, really deep. I lunged and captured him fully, mashing my soaking lips onto his pubic hair.

"Fuck me," I cried, cashing in, admitting defeat, glorious defeat.

Gary dropped my hands and I flopped back, slipping down his cock until his hands grasped my hips. Then he was pulling me up, back onto his cock, plugging me, filling me up to my tonsils.

"Yeah, oh yeah!" he cried.

"Yeah," I yelled back.

Gary fell to his knees and pushed my legs way back, holding me by the ankles, lifting my ass completely off the bed to fully expose me. Then my son crouched over the back of my thighs and started hammering his cock inside me, noisily slapping the back of my thighs. My God, he was so hard.

"Fuck me!" I moaned, before losing all capability of speech. After that, all I could do was grunt my joy and appreciation.


Gary went wild. It looked like he was trying to say something but the sounds coming out of his mouth were unintelligible. I knew then that he had planned this for some time. It must have been a huge struggle to wait until I was ready rather than following his youthful urge to take me but the end justified the means. Gary was right, I was free. I had taken my son because I wanted him, not for a good cause, not because I was martyring myself, but because he made me so hot and I wanted to fuck his brains out. I was now free to fuck him anytime I wanted, or anytime he wanted me, without guilt or shame.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Gary and I fucked every afternoon after that. I discovered that I liked the security blanket that the ropes provided and Gary obliged me. He tightened them at my request so I couldn't slip my hands out. I liked the feeling of being trapped, held against my will and forced to do things—though I really wasn't. I don't know why I liked it so much but didn't waste much time wondering about it. It felt good and that was all I needed to know.

The day everything changed, I was facing the headboard, blindfolded and muzzled by the mask I had devised of stretchy material with a grip on the back so Gary could hold my face up from the bed without hurting my hair. My arms were stretched behind me and my wrists securely tied. The soft rope looping around my neck was yoked to my knees, tucking them up tightly to my chest and forcing my ass up high. Two more lengths of soft rope started at the rope around my wrists and branched off to hold my ankles up. I felt helpless yet strangely, and blissfully, in control because my feigned plight seduced Gary into forcing huge lunges upon me from behind. We had done this before, working up from gentler scenarios, and we both loved it. It was a prelude to something else I had discovered, or more accurately, Gary had shown me that I liked: anal sex.

About a week or so after we had first fucked, and Gary had started tying me up more securely, he began playing with my asshole. First, he worked me up until I was so horny I would die just to get his cock inside me for even a minute, then he put his lubed finger into my little pucker. Oh, I didn't like it and let my feelings be known but Gary persisted. Soon, I grew used to his finger's presence, and then his thumb, and after a lot more teasing of my quivering pussy lips, a second finger.

Gary rubbed his shaft along my pussy and nudged it in a bit several times but he wouldn't shove it all the way in. When he finally forced it into my ass, I welcomed it. It took some getting used to, let me tell you, but by the time his cock was fully inside my ass, I was grooving on it.

The next day, Gary pounded me from behind for several minutes before suddenly pulling out. I wiggled my ass in the air until the first teasing probe both relieved my angst and stoked my fires to new heights. Fifteen minutes of teasing circles around my pucker and sudden plunges inside ensued. When I thought I couldn't stand it any longer, Gary blessed my ass with his stiff cock. I was so hot it must have felt like a furnace.

So, getting back to that fateful day a week later, as I was saying, Gary had just pounded me from behind, me all tied up, and had barely started stroking my butt, when everything changed.

"What the fuck are you doing?"

I heard Gary cry out as he was yanked roughly off me and turned my head just in time to hear the sound of a fist crack followed by a body crashing into the wall behind me so hard the bedside lamp fell off the table. Several more fist cracks followed.

"You little bastard!"

"No, John, don't," I yelled but the mask muffled my cry.

Bang, bang, crash.

"John... John, oh my God, Gary," I whimpered, rubbing my face in the pillow, first trying to rub the mask up over my chin so John could hear me and, after that failed, trying to dislodge it from the top so I could at least plead for Gary with my eyes. But I couldn't get the mask off and despite rolling off the bed and crashing into John's feet, the beating continued.

When John finally untied me and removed the mask, Gary was lying in a fetal position beside the bed.

Our world had ended.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Gary's stay at the hospital was short—his injuries were slight and mostly surperficial—but his return home was equally brief. He hid in his room and wouldn't come out, not even to eat. It was worse that when I'd started. Eventually, he returned to the institution.

Getting the charges initially laid against John was another ordeal—we obviously couldn't explain what had happened—but eventually we got past that too. All that remained was for us to deal with the remorse and sense of failure. Depression awaited. John and I stopped having sex. He was too guilty and I couldn't bring myself to be with him. Neither of us was capable of dealing with Gary's situation though I did broach the topic with John one evening without success. He flat out didn't want to talk about it so that's what we did, lived our lives as if we didn't have a son.

I didn't go out much anymore but one day I was sitting in the food court of a mall—not the one I usually patronized because I couldn't face meeting anyone I knew—when I encountered Sandra's son, Jeff. He was such a sweet boy and the brief conversation I had with him turned my life around.

Hope is an amazing thing. Hope leads to plans, and plans lead to action, and actions can succeed as well as fail. Jeff didn't stick around to see it but when I left that mall, I was a different woman from the one that walked in. There was a firmness to my step, borne of purpose and determination. I had done the impossible once, I could do it again.

The plan formed in my mind on the drive home. I went straight upstairs and then up into the attic. There, I opened all the boxes and trunks, made my selections, and spent the rest of the day doing laundry and taking things to the dry cleaners. Several days later, I had the wardrobe necessary to execute the first part of my new plan, convincing my reluctant husband to become a willing if not fully functional member of the team. Then, we could tackle Gary again.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

I was in the kitchen in when John came in. As usual now, he didn't come in to see me or call out to say hello, he simply sat down and turned the TV onto the evening news. I smiled. Things were going to be different now and, though I was nervous about this first encounter, I was also confident of success. After all, Vanessa did have my mother-in-law's personality but I looked like her, especially now that I was at the age she likely had her greatest influence on John. I had examined John's family pictures and confirmed this to be true. I also knew a lot about my mother-in-law and the strange relationship she had with her son, one I suspected was far more complicated than I previously thought.

I stirred the pot, relishing the delicious feeling of female power that welled up inside me and readied myself for the challenge ahead of me. I wasn't afraid, I was looking forward to it. My earlier triumph with Gary had taught me to enjoy the battle while it lasted. I now understood why men repressed their wartime experiences yet thrived on their memory, the most intense moments of their lives. I felt alive!

I turned the pots on simmer and poured John a glass of wine, refilling my own as well. Holding both glasses, I walked seductively toward the living room, loving the snug feel of the long, grey tweed skirt around my hips and legs and how tight it felt across my buttocks. Its high waist and the wide black belt accented the narrowness of my waist and tugged the fluffy white blouse down tightly over my breasts, nicely pushed up with the special bra I had also found among John's mother's things. She had a surprising amount of special underwear for such an austere woman.

I rounded the corner and walked directly to John's chair.

"Here you are, dear," I said, handing him a glass of wine. "Did you have a hard day?"

Instead of waiting for an answer, I turned to look at the TV, standing in front of John's chair but to one side so I wouldn't block his view if he decided to keep watching the news. However, by the way his eyes flickered toward my bottom as I turned, I was confident I would win over the TV. I held my pose for a moment, then let my left knee bend forward, forcing my right buttock up to press tightly against the skirt, accenting my bottom. The rustle of my nylons scraping thigh on thigh sent a shiver up my spine and I hoped it had the same effect on my husband.

"That's a nice outfit, Joan. Were you shopping today?"

"No." I didn't turn to look at John. "I'm so bored of shopping. I can never find exactly what I want. Your mother always dressed so nicely&mash;I almost choked on those words—so I went up to the attic to look at her stuff for ideas and found this outfit. I hope you don't mind, it fits me well, don't you think?"

I twisted my hips to emphasize the fit over my butt which I knew had a tendency to stick out a bit.

"No, I don't mind. I don't mind at all."

"But, does it fit me nicely?"

"Yes, it fits you perfectly."

"Thanks honey."

Holding my wine glass out to the side, ostensibly so it wouldn't spill but really to accentuate my figure,

I sauntered back to the kitchen.

Later, when we had finished dinner and just started eating the sumptuous apple pie I had bought at Andres but claimed to have made, I set the stage for the next few weeks.

"John, do you mind if I wear some of your mother's other things? I just love this outfit."

"Mind? Of course I don't mind."

That night, John waited for me in bed while I undid my fifties-style hairdo and appeared to remove my makeup but in reality simply adjusted it to fit a more intimate setting. I was wearing one of his mother's more demure nightgowns, far less racy than some of the stuff I had found. John was perky when I finally slipped under the covers, as he should have been after the long meal I had made of removing his mother's clothes in front of him, but I was cool. I wasn't, however, as off-putting as I had been the past few months. I wanted to encourage him, but not much, yet.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

For the next two weeks, I wore John's mother's clothes. During the day, I repaired some outfits and took others that were beyond my ability to a seamstress. From her, I got ideas for clothes of a similar design and commissioned several new outfits, for a play I was involved in, I explained. I really liked the feel of these old style clothes. They covered so much yet I felt sexier in them.

I gradually moved John closer and closer to more intimate interactions but did not renew any sexual activity in bed. I could tell John was getting frustrated which was perfect, just according to my plan. When I asked John to move into the spare room because I needed time to myself, he balked, but wasn't overly upset. After all, his most intimate interactions with me occurred outside the bedroom.

Using pictures to guide me, I had re-decorated the spare room to be as close as could be managed to John's bedroom at home when he was young. Those pictures had shown how fond John was of his mother. There were pictures of his mother on the wall and on the table beside his bed which was strange, I thought, for a teenage boy. I put similar pictures up but they were of me, dressed in his mother's clothes, which I had a photographer come to the house to do. I also had other pictures taken of me wearing some of her racier underwear. It excited me to wear them and it showed in the pictures, something the photographer picked up on because he propositioned me. As I said before, hope is a funny thing. I'm sure it's why he offered me such a good price on the pictures, even though I turned him down.

It was after a long dinner at which I wore an elegant gown that I moved John into the next stage. He followed me into the living room, no doubt staring at my ass moving freely under the fabulous dress as I purposely swayed slowly ahead of him, but I stopped him short.

"John, would you be a dear and let me enjoy my wine in peace? I'd like to watch a romantic movie and that's one of those things a woman likes to do alone."

Before he could answer, I moved into the living room and sat in his chair, leaning back and crossing my legs, forcing the split, black gown to expose my legs far up my thigh.

"You don't mind, do you, sweetie?"

I could see that he did but he shook his head and turned to go upstairs, hanging his head and shuffling like a spoiled little kid who, having been caught being naughty, had just been sent to his room.

'Sweetie', that's what John's mother called him. That, and 'Johnny'. I had painted a juvenile sign on the door of his new room, 'Johnny's Cave', something else I had discovered in an old picture in one of the trunks.

I turned on the TV, put any old movie on, and sipped my wine, biding my time for the next movement. After forty minutes or so, I drained my second glass and started up the stairs.

Let the show begin.

I took a deep breath, knocked on Johnny's door, then quickly opened it before he even had a chance to answer.

"Johnny, how many times have I told you not to do that!"

John was shocked not only by my abrupt entry but also by my use of a name he probably hadn't heard for many years. The trauma was so complete it immobilized him and he was caught sitting up in bed with the covers pushed down almost to his knees and his shorts dragged down below his balls so he could hold his cock, which was fully erect in his hand, with one hand while the other held a picture of his mother in the other—actually me in her racy underclothes. I had placed those photos in the top drawer where his socks were knowing he would find them.

I walked quickly to the bed and snatched the picture from John's hand.

"John Edward Robinson, I know you won't go blind but you shouldn't be doing that."

I stared at the picture, then tossed it onto the bed, upright and facing John so he could still see it.

"Not by yourself, anyway. It's a bad habit to get into," I said, my voice softening. I sat down on the bed, hitching the elegant dress high enough that it opened sufficiently to display a healthy expanse of bare thigh. "I've told you before."

I grasped John's wrist and tugged his hand off his cock. It was amazing that it remained hard, sticking up proudly though I knew John must be cringing inside. Cringing, and wondering what the hell I was up to. I had surmised that such a surprise may well have happened to John when he was young. I hoped I was right because so much depended on how he reacted and the closer this was to an actual memory the better. I replaced John's hand with my own.

"Johnny, Johnny, what am I to do with you?" I said, squeezing my hand up and down his shaft. I looked behind me at the open door. "It's a good thing your father went to bed so long ago. He's probably sleeping."

I hoped that rang true because if it did the delicious sense of danger might seduce my husband into going along with this fantasy and maybe even convince him to immerse himself within it. After a few strokes, John relaxed. He was over the initial shock and was probably beginning to feel good, even better than before I crashed through the door. His eyes, however, were still wide open.

"There, there. That's better, isn't it," I cooed. "That's it, just relax." I scooted back and pulled John lower in the bed by his cock, pressing on his chest with my free hand. "Close your eyes and just relax."

John closed his eyes just as my free hand slid down his chest to close around his balls. They fluttered open but closed again as I tickled his nuts and stroked his cock with long, firm strokes.

"Shhhhhh. Just relax."

It was only a minute later that John starting humping his hips off the bed, thrusting through my tight grip. He started moaning and I could only wonder what movie was playing in his mind. Was it me jacking his cock or his mother? Did he picture himself bending her over the edge of the bed, or me? I hoped it was her.

His body jerked on the bed and he gasped for breath to fuel the exertion. He came, erupting in a steady flow that oozed from his cock for half a minute.

"You disgusting little brat," I chastized him in my best imitation of his mother's commanding, superior voice. "How many times have I told you to warn me? I wiped my hand on his blanket and stood up, smoothing the dress down over my thighs. "Clean yourself up and wash your own blankets. I'm not cleaning up your filth, do you understand?"

John opened his eyes and nodded. He looked petrified.

I turned and stomped out of the room, slamming the door behind me.

So far, so good.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

I didn't knock the next night but John was waiting for me. He might not have been sure of himself as he looked because the covers were pulled up to his waist, hiding his private parts which the lump in his lap indicated he had been touching. I was wearing a robe, open to display the suggestive nightgown underneath. Though it wasn't low cut, there was a peek hole beneath the ribbon tying it under my neck that provided a window onto my cleavage, and my breasts were loose underneath. The nightgown was long but not full length, falling to only a few inches below my knees but when I sat down the hem would rise above them. I had practised to be sure it did.

I partially closed the door and walked to the bed, 'accidently' brushing my robe away from my breasts as I hitched the nightgown up my legs before sitting down. I spoke in a hushed voice.

"Your father's barely asleep but I couldn't wait any longer." I turned around and looked at the door to heighten the illusory suspense.

John was smiling with anticipation when I turned back to look at him, his eyes on the bodice of the demure nightgown. I held my elbows in close to my sides and arched my back slightly to buff up the target of his gaze. I chatted with him about things I knew he had done with his parents as if it had just happened rather than so many years ago. John seemed to more than accept it, he seemed very pleased and eager to hear more, leading me in directions I hadn't thought of and supplying the necessary details to make it more real. Things were going so well I almost forgot what I was here to do.

As nonchalantly as I could, I leaned toward the bedside table and opened its narrow drawer. John watched me but didn't stop talking. I retrieved what I had placed there earlier in the day. As John continued his remonition, I casually squirted the thick lubricant in my palm and began working it into my hands, my fingers writhing around one another. John was mesmerized but continued talking. Finally, I stopped and drew my hands apart and held my arms in front of him, palms turned upward.

"Well," I said. "Shall we get started?"

John nodded but didn't do anything, obviously not knowing what was expected of him.

I looked down at his lap and nodded. His gaze followed mine, then he looked up at me for a confirming nod, and pushed the covers down, revealing a bare erection unhindered by either pajamas or underwear.

"Johnny, I've told you, it's disgusting to be naked in bed. You'll have to change your sheets tomorrow and you can wash them yourself."

"Sorry Mother."

His response thrilled me. The fact that he didn't just say 'sorry' told me he was really buying into this fantasy and it rolled so easily off his lips that my confidence in my portrayal of his mother surged.

"It's all right. Come on, push them down all the way. Let's get this over with."

John pushed the covers down to mid-thigh, allowing his stimulated rod to spring up in eager expectation.

"Johnny, you haven't been touching it yourself, have you?" I said in an admonishing tone.

"No Mother, I haven't, honest," he lied.

"Well, then," I muttered, and closed my slick fingers around his shaft.

"Ohhhh Goddd," John cried.

"Quiet, or you'll wake your father," I snapped.

"Sorry Mother."

"Alright, just let me know if the light comes on in the hallway."

John looked past me to the dark hallway beyond his door. I had been careful to turn all the lights off. For the first time, the sound of distant snoring wafted into the room. Perfect, I thought, proud of my timing. You can find anything on the web, including soundtracks of snoring.

John's chest heaved in reaction to the exquisite sensations my lubricated fingers were imparting to his now slick cock. As my hand rose up to his tip I squeezed it over the head and slowly twisted. On the descent, I paused halfway down to allow my trailing thumb to brush sideways across the underside as my other hand massaged his balls. Despite my instructions to watch for the light, John closed his eyes. His whole body trembled under my ministrations. The only sound in the house was the faint recording of snoring emanating from my bedroom and the wet, gooey sound of my hand squeezing and stroking his cock.

John opened his eyes and raised his head.

"Mother?"

"Shhhhh."

"Mother, I'm going to... you said I should warn you."

"Oh dear. I forgot to bring a towel. Do you have a towel?" My hand didn't stop moving up and down his slick shaft.

John looked around, then reached across to the other side of the bed and retrieved his shirt.

"You're not going to ruin your shirt, for goodness sakes. This will have to do."

I leaned over John's cock and opened my mouth.

Though I couldn't see John's face, I could sense his shock. I continued pulling on his slick cock, keeping it steadily aimed at my open, hovering mouth. To help him along, I breathed over his tip and jacked him faster, only going halfway down his shaft before returning to squeeze his head. John's hips began humping up and down, bringing the tip of his cock dangerously close to my mouth.

The first squirt surprised me even though I was expecting it. John cried out and bucked his hips, thrusting his cock fully inside my wet, waiting mouth. He released a sound that was more of a wail than a grunt, dropping his ass to the bed for the briefest sojourn before ramming it back into my mouth. His body convulsed with each explosive squirt, again and again and again. Finally, he was spent and collapsed into the mattress, exhausted. I lifted my head, expecting him to have closed his eyes again but he was watching me with glazed eyes. I suspect he wanted to see if I had managed to take it all, hoping to see some of his seed marking my face. I was sorry to disappoint him. I made a note to think of that next time. Or maybe he was trying to see if his mother had returned to this earth.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The next day I wore John's mother's sexiest outfits and that night John was eagerly awaiting my arrival. As soon as I entered his room, he put his book down and pushed the covers down to his knees, exposing his erect cock.

"You weren't touching it by yourself, were you Johnny?"

"No Mother."

"Good boy."

The snoring recording started up, right on time. I reached over to open the drawer but saw the lubricant already lying on top of the bedside dresser. I smiled.

"I see we have an eager beaver tonight."

John nodded. His eyes lit up when I peeled my robe back and let it fall from my shoulders, revealing a very naughty nightgown that barely contained my breasts. I let him take his fill for a moment, then reached for the lubricant but before squirting it onto my palm, I paused.

"Would you like to do this tonight?"

John looked confused. Was I asking him to masturbate?

"Change places with me," I said, getting up. "Come on, get out of bed."

John did as he was told and I took his place, propping another pillow behind my back.

"Come on, get on," I said, patting my hands to the outside of my thighs.

John clambered over me. When he was in place, I said, "Well?"

John didn't know what to do but before he could speak, I leaned upward and said, "Push my nightgown back, Johnny. There's a good boy."

John tentatively put his hands on my shoulders but didn't do anything until I nodded permission. He slipped the nightgown down my arms and, when I smiled further approval, he dragged it completely off my breasts and pulled it over my hands. I picked up the lubricant and squirted a dollar-sized puddle onto each breast, just above my nipples, then handed it to him.

"Put some on yourself."

I closed my eyes but kept them open a slit so I could see him. John was unsure for a few seconds and then squirted some lubricant onto the tip of his cock, put some more into his right palm, then rubbed it up and down his shaft. After it was spread all over his cock, he stared at my breasts, then tentatively reached out to touch the puddle above my left nipple. I nodded silent approval and visibly relaxed into the pillows to demonstrate my assent. John began spreading the lubricant over my tits.

John played with my breasts for so long I had to grab his cock and pull it between them before he got the idea but half a dozen strokes later, he leaned over me and began rubbing his cock between my tits in long, slow thrusts. I squeezed my breasts together and John began fucking them in earnest. I waited until his breathing was quite ragged before tipping my head up to blow on his cock. He loved it and leaned harder into to me, trying to thrust his cock closer to my mouth. After teasing him for a while by pulling my mouth away, I tipped my head forward to reward him, taking the head into my mouth on every stroke.

I doubt he managed another ten thrusts before he started coming. The way he gasped for air, I don't think he would have survived if he hadn't come. Some of his spend was deposited in my mouth but most of it missed, some of it going past my head entirely. However, enough landed on my face to make him groan with pleasure and he leaned over my nose to squeeze the last drops from his cock. I kept my eyes 'closed' the entire time so he wouldn't be scared to do what he really wanted. After a moment, I spoke.

"Go to the bathroom and get a warm washcloth."

John started climbing off me.

"Warm, mind you."

"Yes Mother."

He was walking to the door.

"And don't wake your father."

"No Mother," he whispered.

John crept back into room. I don't think he was trying to not wake his 'father', I think he wanted to look at me for a few moments before I knew he was there. I pretended to be unaware of his presence so he could survey the damage he had done. Never in my married life had I ever let John do something like this and I was positive that if he thought it was 'me' he wouldn't have done it.

"Johnny?" I called, getting tired of the sticky mess on my face.

I heard him step quietly backward. "Right here, Mother," he answered, as if just coming in the door.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The next day, at breakfast, I launched my campaign in earnest.

"Johnny," I began. I had been wearing John's mother's clothes and calling him Johnny for weeks now and almost thought of him as my son. Given the intensity of our role playing, I'm sure he thought of me as his mother and definitely acted like it as soon as he walked in the door after work. I wondered how he managed to be himself during the day and worried that I might be contributing to the development of a fractured personality but it was necessary.

"John," I started again. "We're going to have a guest for a while."

"Who?" John asked.

"Gary."

I worried that would yank John out of his role as my son but I had decided the best approach was to deal with the issue head on. John wasn't so far gone that he didn't know we were only playing a game so he could realize his fantasies. I relied on the strength of his mind and the weakness of his soul to handle this new twist.

"But we're going to call him Allen and pretend he's not our son."

"Okay," John's tone was tentative and he looked unsure.

"You'll have to sleep with me for a while."

John looked less worried but still somewhat unsure.

"We can continue with..., well, with what we've been doing, but only in my room. Is that clear?"

John nodded.

"You understand? This is very important."

"Yes."

"That's good." I held out my arms. "Now come and give your Mother a hug."

I turned in my seat to face my husband as he came around the table. He let his hands rest on my shoulders as mine curled around his waist to embrace him. Releasing him a moment later, I slipped my hands around to his front and unzipped his pants. He was already getting hard. I opened my mouth and he pushed it in. Johnny's hands clasped my head and he began thrusting in and out.

I wondered if I was up to this. Could I balance the demands of my two men? Could I handle that much sex? John's legs weakened and he sagged against me, moaning his pleasure. Yes, I thought, I can, I definitely can.

Later that day, after my fateful phone call to the institution, I wondered about my husband's relationship with his mother. How far had they really gone? I was convinced that my mother-in-law had in fact paraded in front of John in sexy underclothes but had she actually masturbated him and sucked his cock? I couldn't tell from John's reaction if we were replaying old memories or simply acting out fantasies that didn't actually happen but which he had always wanted to.

The more I thought about it, the more I became convinced John and I were replaying things that had really happened. I needed to offer him the prospect of something that hadn't happened that he had wanted to in order to keep him motivated throughout the ordeal ahead, something I could hold out for 'good' behavior.

That night, when John came home, there was a bottle on the counter that he couldn't take his eyes off all through dinner despite the competing draw of my hair, freshly dyed the color of his mother's. The fact that I never acknowledged his distraction probably drew his attention to it all the more. While we were eating our dessert, I reminded John of the need to sleep in my bedroom, starting tonight, but kept the fantasy alive by explaining that while his father was away on his trip I was afraid to sleep alone. John's response surprised me.

"Yes, I understand, Joan. I know what's truly important. We both love and miss our son but you need him in a special way and you know now how well I understand that."

"Yes John, I do." John's words also made me come face to face with the fact that my behavior wasn't altogether altruistic.

"So, let's get on with it and get our son back."

"Okay John."

I noticed that John had barely touched his dessert whereas I had finished mine. I stood up.

"I'm going to go to bed early."

"I'll join you," John said, getting up. "I'd like to make love to the woman I love tonight, my wife."

I motioned for John to sit down. Don't get me wrong, I loved hearing that from my husband. What woman wouldn't? But I had something else in mind for tonight, the first taste of that added incentive to keep my husband focused on our ultimate goal, a pull far beyond words of commitment.

"Finish your dessert first, Johnny," I commanded in the most authoritative voice I could muster.

John plunked down, surprised by the sudden change in my voice and personality. Mimicking his mother's voice, something I could do perfectly, I added, "There's something special I want you to do for me tonight, Johnny. When you do come up, in a few minutes, can you bring that with you?"

I gave no indication of what I meant by that but John knew.

"Bring what?" he asked anyway.

"That," I snapped, and turned to walk away without glancing at the bottle of Mazola. I swayed my hips in an exaggerated fashion so my ass would capture his attention.

"Yes Mother," John croaked as I left the dining room and started up the stairs, ass swaying outrageously.

I didn't know John could finish a large piece of apple pie so quickly. Maybe he could when he was a kid and when he was 'Johnny' it wasn't a big deal to kill off a pie. Anyway, I had barely got changed into one of his mother's long nightgowns and stretched out on the bed with it pulled up onto my back and over my head, ass bare and inviting, when Johnny arrived.

I doubt Johnny dwelled on the new furnishings in the room but I'm sure he noticed them, adding to the elation of the moment. While he was at work, I had scoured the second hand and antique stores and Craigslist for a bedroom set and a sofa and chair to put in my room. The weren't perfect but, once re-ulphostered and reconditioned, they were a close match to the furniture in John's childhood pictures. I bet that even to his mind, and most assuredly to his hard cock, the bare ass on the bed looked just like his mother's, the one that had beckoned to him for years but he had been unable to attain. Until now.

I tugged the hem of the nightgown above my shoulders, covering my head but leaving enough dyed hair to show for effect. I wiggled my ass.

"Hurry," I whispered.

The whisper of clothes gave way to a rip, and stumble, and several gasps for breath before the mattress gave way to the weight of John's knees. I almost laughed out loud. I wasn't so much amused as unable to contain the rush of power that surged through me, to so easily render this competent man helpless in service of my whims. Yet, I braced myself, for I couldn't predict whether his approach would be tentative or savage.

Long seconds passed. I heard the twist of a cap being removed from a bottle. I waited for the rasp of hands rubbing together but winced instead as the cold liquid—I had kept it in the fridge until John came home—spashed in several drips on my right cheek, skipped over to my left, and then dribbled along my crack from top to bottom.

Johnny released a long sigh which in words would have said, "Awesome!"

Hands curved around my cheeks, spreading the oily mess all over my ass. They swirled and pressed, enfolded and crushed, and caressed, never harsh, always devoted. A coveted treasure was being honored and prepared for consumption, savored, because the first taste is always the best. I understood now how powerful was John's need for his mother and, perhaps for the first time, how much Gary needed me. I was humbled.

The glow began spreading faintly through my pelvis even before the first rub of Johnny's thumbs through my crack. It intensified with the first probe of his right hand thumb which so easily slipped inside. Mazola, the new wonder food.

I could have said I moaned to heighten Johhny's desire but it would be a lie; I liked what he was doing; I needed it.

He had paused after the first probe to drip more Mazola on my ass. I knew Mazola was the wrong thing to use but it fit the time period and just once shouldn't hurt; at least, so I reasoned. Now, the slippery, viscous feel of it excited me so much I couldn't help but whimper my appreciation. John was so good at this. How could it be his first time?

Jesus. He was sliding first one, and then the other, thumb into my ass, twisting on exit. Squeezing my cheeks, probing, reaming, pushing my ass forward, forcing me to lift my hips off the bed, presenting myself, lewd, desparate and wanton. I want it!

Oh my God! Two thumbs at once, fully inserted, wiggling, spreading as they withdrew, fingers bunching my cheeks, squeezing gently, then more urgently. Johnny was gasping and moaning. I wasn't sure it he couldn't help it or if he was trying to wind me up even more. Whatever, it worked. I pushed my ass up higher, silently begging to take his cock. I moaned.

"Now," I croaked.

I felt his knees drawing closer. He was coming. He was going to take me, going to take his mother.

How could it feel bigger than his two thumbs? I sucked in my breath. He was smaller than Gary but still filled me. Please, be careful. He was. Pressure, pressure. Oh God, such wonderful pressure. No, don't stop, keep pushing. That's it. He understood, he was just shifting his legs for a better angle. Ahhh, Gawd, yes.

Plop.

He was in. It wasn't a sound, just a feeling. The head was in. Rubbing, scraping his shaft through the ring, so long but I knew he was shorter than Gary.

"Oh Johnny, that's so good, so nice," I moaned.

His legs were pushing against my ass. He was all the way in. He paused, then began swirling around, gently, fully plugged in, his cock reaming my hole. The tide of pleasure spilled out of my pelvis, cascaded through my chest, filling my tits and running into my head. I drooled onto the pillow.

"Fuck it," I gasped.

Johhny kept swirling his cock and reaming my hole, no slower and no faster. His cock didn't withdraw. He kept his firmly plugged into my ass despite my plea.

"Fuck it," I moaned.

Still no compliance. No withdrawal and forward thrust. This was his dream; it was going to go his way.

I don't know how much later—I measured the passage of time in waves of pleasure emanating from my anal cavity—but finally Johnny began fucking my ass properly, withdrawing and pushing forward, puling out and shoving in, with long, steady thrusts, never hard, always teasing.

Just fuck it, fuck it hard. I can take it, I want it.

His hands were on my hips, as if I would pull away. How funny. I pushed my ass back to meet him every time.

Harder now, coming faster. Oh Lord, yes. Keep it coming. Slapping noises. Was he slapping my ass? No, it was just the sweaty sound of our bodies colliding.

I arched my back to turn my ass up for a perfect fit but upon full entry Johnny wrenched his cock in a different direction every time. I couldn't predict it the direction of shear but no matter which way it effectively widened my hole, making his cock feel huge. Every twisting lunge carried the tip of his love stick to a different spot. Anticipation, and the inability to determine where the tingling touch would land, drove me wild. Every thrust was accompanied by a thrilling stretch as the root of his shaft plugged my forbidden entrance.

My climax exploded over me, washing through my body in waves as my clenching butt drained his cock is an erratic series of pulsing clutches. It was several minutes before Johnny was able to extract his softened penis. He got up not long after and much later, I made my own trip to the shower.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Afterward, I dried myself and collapsed in bed beside John without bothering to put on a fresh nightgown. I awoke to the most wonderful feeling, the warm feel of lip nibbling my pussy. I can't say how long I had enjoyed my husband's mouth before waking but shortly thereafter his tongue slipped inside me and the ecstasy it imparted lasted for a long time. When my head cleared after a truly earth-shattering orgasm, John was lying beside me, his arm across my breasts and his eyes looking into mine.

"I love you, Joan."

"I know you do, John," I answered, seeing the truth of it as his eyes read mine. "Today I'm bringing our son home."

"I can hardly wait," John said, just before he kissed me.

I smiled as I picked a pubic hair from the corner of John's mouth. One kiss turned into another, casually delivered and leisurely appreciated. My hand strayed down to my husband's hard cock. I enjoyed stroking it gently, encircled within the oval of my loosely held fingers. A sudden urge prompted me to slide my thigh over his and a moment later my body followed, straddling him briefly before finding and inserting his cock. 

I worked on him slowly, then leaned over within his arms, being careful to curb his passion so I could ride it for as long as possible. Our legs and feet entwined and perodically we engaged in a long kisses. Eventually, my own passion rose past John's and pulled him along until we were writhing strenuously on the bed, sweaty limbs and torsos sliding over each other, my pussy struggling to contain his frantic cock.

Finally, we exploded in mutual orgasm and floated back to reality, our bodies quivering with muted responses to the receding ebb of our passion. For a long time we lay, one atop the other, John's comforting arms encircling me, silent, breathing quietly, ensconced in our love.

That morning was devoted to my husband. In the afternoon I became Gary's mom again, although he didn't know it for some time, and later that night I reconstitued myself as Johnny's mother. As a woman and a mother, I was the center of our family, fulfilling its needs, including my own. They say a mother's work is never done, and thank God for that.











Voodoo Moms

Voodoo Moms
byalwayswantedto©

Note: This story is the second part of a trilogy; you should read Gary's Mom first.

All characters are 18 years or older.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

"My old lady's such a bitch," Billy complained as soon as he came out of the house.

"Don't slam the door," his mother's voice followed us down the driveway as we jumped on our boards and peeled onto the street. "Wear your helmet," barely reached us through the window as we picked up speed crossing in front of Billy's house. He was looking at me with a crooked grin beneath his wind-swept mop of hair, pretending to ignore his mother who was pounding on the big living room window.

I smiled and waved to his mother, then cupped my hand to my ear to indicate that we couldn't hear what she was saying, hoping it would help Billy get in less shit when he got home, unlikely as that was. I knew Billy's mother thought I was a bad influence. That's why I usually texted Billy to let him know I was there and waited for him to come out.

Billy's old lady wasn't all bitch. Nobody as good looking as she was could be all bad. Sure, she was uppity and almost always snarky but she had great legs and her tits, though small and low slung, protruded nicely from her chest, especially when she wore the light sweaters she favored.

Of course, Billy couldn't see it. "Are you fucking kidding? She's just a fucking bitch. I wouldn't touch her with a ten foot pole. If I was forced to put my cock into her, I'd cut it off," he once responded to my comment that his mom had a hot body. "No way. It's your Mom that's fuckable," he had replied.

I don't care what Billy said, I'd fuck his mother in a hot minute but I knew she detested me. Actually, that was going too far. If it wasn't for my presumed influence on Billy you'd think she didn't know I existed. Yeah, Billy and I had gotten into trouble but she was way off the mark blaming it on me. It was Billy who got us started with the graffiti, it was him that talked me into stealing that car, and he was the one that broke into the corner store: all I did was stand watch. If his mother knew about the car and the store, she'd piss herself.

"You're going to get shit when you get home for not wearing a helmet," I taunted Billy when I finally caught up to him at the corner.

"Fuck her," Billy spat.

"I pretended we couldn't hear so maybe you won't catch it so bad."

"Yah, right. Did you smile at her?"

"Yeah."

"That's great," Billy said. "She'll be really pissed now."

"Why?"

"Because she'll think you were flipping her off."

Billy laughed, looked past me down the street, and swore. Dismayed by the vehemence of his statement I was slow to follow Billy's gaze.

"Fucking bitch," he cried. His mother's car turned out of the driveway and starting coming our way. "Come on."

Billy ran around the corner and ducked into the Garner's yard.

"Hurry," he yelled.

I caught up to him and we hid behind a shed just before his mother's car raced by. We watched until she slowed at the next corner, then turned right and sped away. Quickly, we ran back the way we had come and crossed the street. At the next block, we jumped on our boards and took off. Billy was shrieking with laughter.

"Stupid bitch," he cackled.

In the skuzzy part of town, we went into the place Billy had been telling me about. It was a real creepy dump with all sorts of voodoo shit hanging all over the place and books about witches and that kind of crap strewn around. Billy palmed a bell on the counter and we waited, he eagerly and me with apprehension, hanging near the door. An ugly, fat old black woman with raggy-looking dreads pushed through the strings of beads hanging in the doorway.

"You got 'em?" Billy asked. "You said they'd be ready today."

"You got the hundred?" the apparition demanded in a throaty, smoke-ravaged voice.

"Yeah, sure," Billy dug in his pocket, uncharacteristically respectful in his demeanor.

Billy put five twenties on the counter. "You got 'em?" he repeated.

The old woman ignored him but took the bills and walked back through the doorway, leaving us to look at the clicking, swinging strings of beads. Billy shrugged and smiled. I waved the hand that wasn't holding my board in a 'what the fuck?' motion. Billy started to say something but footsteps scraped over the floor on the other side of the beads so he lowered his hand, palm down to silence me.

"Here," the old woman dropped a shoebox on the counter. "And remember, you didn't get 'em here."

Billy tucked the box under his arm, picked up his board and walked out the door. Outside, I asked him what he'd bought for a hundred bucks.

"I'll show you in the park." Billy hopped on his board and took off down the sidewalk. Turning his head slightly, he yelled, "You owe me fifty bucks."

"What?" I yelled at his rapidly receding back, but he didn't answer. I jumped on my board and worked feverishly to catch up which was hard even with him carrying the box. Billy had always been better on the board than me.

After checking for crap, we sat on the grass overlooking one of the duck ponds in the park. There was a bench about thirty feet in front of us with a couple of raisins acting like they were still dating and tossing bread crumbs to the turd factories.

"Let me see what you blew a hundred on," I said, trying to grab the shoe box.

Billy pulled it away, keeping his forearm firmly pressed on the top of the box.

"Wait," he said, eyeing the young couple walking along the paved walkway in front of the raisins.

"And I don't owe you any fifty bucks," I asserted.

"We'll see," Billy answered.

"You didn't buy dope, did you?" I asked, looking around, suddenly feeling exposed sitting in a public place. Billy knew how I felt about drugs after what happened to my sister.

Billy laughed. "No, you big chickenshit. I got somethin' better than that."

"What?" I said, trying to grab the box again.

Billy elbowed me away, then cracked the lid an inch. I relaxed and he lifted the lid some more. I ducked my head to peer inside but it was too dark to see.

"Come on, open it!" I demanded.

Billy cackled, then pulled the lid right off.

"Dolls!" I exclaimed. "Dolls? What the fuck?"

"Special dolls," Billy explained.

That wasn't enough for me.

"They're all yours," I said. "I'm not giving you no fifty bucks for no doll."

"We'll see," Billy said.

"No, we won't see," I responded. "They're all yours."

Billy was peering in the box, checking out the dolls. He lifted one out and held it up in front of him against the backdrop of the big pond.

"Hey," I said. "It kinda looks like your old lady."

"Exactly," Billy smiled. The smile turned into a sneer as he flicked his finger at the doll's face. "I hope this thing works. It's worth a hundred just to see."

"You paid a hundred bucks for a shitty doll that looks like your old lady?" I asked, sneering.

"Fifty," Billy said. "This one's yours."

He emptied the box into my lap and tossed the box onto the grass about ten feet away. I picked the doll up and examined it.

"Hey, this one looks like my old lady."

"Yeah, genius" Billy confirmed.

"How did she do that?"

"I gave her some pictures, some hair, and a pair of her panties."

"You stole your old lady's panties?"

"No, yours. The old boot wanted hair but I couldn't get any of your old lady's so I stole a pair of her panties from your laundry."

I started laughing and rolling on the grass.

"You stole my old lady's panties to sniff," I cried, tearing up because I was laughing so hard.

The old raisins turned around to look at us.

Billy slapped at me a few times.

"Shut up," he hissed, but I ignored him and repeated my accusation.

The raisins looked disgusted.

"Sniffing my old lady's panties," I yelled.

"Shut the fuck up," Billy connected with a hard one.

"Hey, fuck off," I cried, sitting up and hauling back with my fist to show I was ready to let him have it.

"This is serious," Billy said.

"Serious? Seriously fucked is what it is," I said. "Paying a hundred bucks for a couple of dolls that look like our old ladies?"

Billy screwed his face up. "I'm going to fill this sucker with pins and make that bitch suffer," he said vehemently.

"What?" I cried.

"These aren't just dolls, they're Voodoo dolls," Billy stated emphatically.

"Voodoo dolls?"

"Yeah, you can do shit to them and the real person suffers." Billy's face broke into an evil smile. "I bet that bitch gets a bruise just from flicking my finger in her face, or she would have if I'd said the lingo before I did it."

Billy suddenly looked concerned.

"Hey, where's the secret words?"

He scrambled over to the box, turned it upside down, peered inside and all around the box and the lid.

"Fuck!" he cried. "Fucking black whore."

I looked at my doll. "You mean these?" I asked, holding the doll up with its back toward Billy so he could see the nonsense scribbled on the piece of paper pinned on its back.

Billy turned his doll over. "Yeah," he said. "That's it. You gotta say that before you do somethin' to it." Billy mumbled some kind of mumbo-jumbo, flicked the doll in the face, and cranked out an evil laugh. "Take that you fucking bitch." He looked at me. "You try it."

I whispered the words on the back of the paper, then flicked the doll's face but missed, hitting it on the side of the head instead. Unlike Billy, I wasn't comfortable with hitting someone, even in jest, and especially my mom. Though I complained about her when Billy, I actually liked my mom. She was kind of cool.

Billy laughed. "Feels good, huh? Fifty bucks," he said, holding his hand out.

I tossed the crudely made doll back to him. "You keep it."

Billy laughed again. "Okay, but it'll be seventy-five by the weekend and a hundred after that if you change your mind."

"I won't change my mind."

"We'll see," Billy answered smugly, stuffing the dolls into his jacket.

We grabbed our boards and left the park. I looked back and saw the raisins picking up the box and the lid, both of them shaking their heads as they trundled toward a trash can. We laughed and sped away.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

I kicked out my board when I turned into our driveway. Dad sometimes worked at home and didn't like the noise but it was too early for him to be there. I did it for Mom. She didn't like the racket either. I had learned early that keeping the peace at home made life easier.

My mother was one of those well-educated, pampered, fortyish women who were bored with lots of time on their hands because they had temporarily suspended their careers to have children and found it financially unrewarding and far less fun to return to work. She spent her days exercising and going to spas, having coffee and volunteering for whatever trendy cause was currently popular with her friends. To me, it seemed a vacuous, wasted life.

Like my mother, my father was a professional photographer. When my sister and I came along, Dad had turned from artsy photography to pictures that put more bread on the table. He started doing brochures for government and commercial ventures but then stumbled on doing fashion photo shoots for which it turned out he had a particular flair. Dad built a name for himself and became quite well paid. He was often away for days and sometimes weeks at a time on location.

After my sister and I started school, Mom returned to the artsy photography she and Dad had done but it wasn't long before her interest waned. She even tried getting in on the fashion shoots with Dad but quickly quit. Photographing lots of young models wasn't her cup of tea, whether of men or women, though most of Dad's shoots involved women. I don't think Mom liked that much but she had grown accustomed to the lifestyle it afforded. So Mom lived her life of leisure and left the rest of the family to live their own as long as they didn't intrude upon hers. For my part, I didn't have to get a summer job as long as I indulged "my" interest in photography or art. Ours was a satisfied if somewhat disenchanted household.

"Hi Mom," I said upon seeing her sitting on a stool in the kitchen watching the late afternoon fare on TV while she cut up vegetables for a salad. The sound was turned almost all the way down.

"Not so loud, Jeff," she complained, putting one hand to the side of her head.

"Sorry," I apologized, opening the fridge to get a can of root beer. I popped the tab and Mom winced at the sudden crack.

"Jeffrey!"

"Sorry, Mom. Do you have a headache or something?"

"Yes. Isn't that obvious," she replied testily, turning toward me and pulling the hand away from the side of her head.

I looked closely at her head. It was flushed and swollen by her left temple.

"Jeez, did you fall or something?"

"No," Mom shook her head. "I've just got this splitting headache that came out of nowhere."

Mom placed her head back in her hand and I put my arm around her shoulder.

"Do you want me to do the vegetables for you?"

"Would you? That would be nice."

"Sure," I said. "I can make the rest of the dinner too if you want. Why don't you go lie down."

"No. I still have the fish to prepare."

"I can put the fish in the microwave. Dad can rough it for one night."

"Your father will be working late."

Mom's emphasis of the word 'working' hinted that she didn't think there it would be a hardship for my father.

"So, just you and me then. Should I open a bottle of the good stuff?" I tried to lighten Mom's mood and put some distance from the thought of Dad being late again.

"Don't make me laugh," Mom complained. "Sure, why not, but not red. I've already got a headache."

Mom shuffled out of the kitchen. I put the can of root beer down on the counter and went to get the fish out of the fridge. It was already in a rectangular Pyrex container. While sprinkling spices over the top and adding some lemon, I thought about Mom's head. I couldn't help but notice that the swelling was on the same side I had flicked the doll. Holy shit, if that voodoo stuff actually worked, I had to get the doll of Mom away from psycho Billy.

I wished I hadn't gone to that place with him. What if Billy killed his old lady? He really hated her but was he crazy enough to do it? What if the old woman remembered me? What if Billy did it and she saw it on TV and phoned the cops? What if she had cameras in her store?

I crudely chopped the rest of the vegetables up and sliced up little bits of apple and oranges and threw them into the big salad bowl, then shoved the fish into the oven. Thinking about the park, I sprinkled a few raisins into the salad too. I grabbed the phone and called Billy. As soon he answered he started into a tirade.

"Fucking pig-fucking whore," he yelled.

"What did she do now?" I asked.

"Not my old lady," Billy shouted. "That old douche bag that sold me the dolls. I'm getting my money back."

"What's the matter?"

"It doesn't fucking work," he cried. "I slapped it around a bit and my old lady didn't react at all. I stuck a pin in the fucking thing and she didn't even flinch. That fucking whore took me for a ride."

"Oh, shit. That sucks."

"Fucking right. I thought the bitch would at least have a bloody nose when I got home but no fucking way. Nothing," he cried in disgust.

"That really sucks," I sympathized but was privately relieved.

"Fucking right. So hey, did yours work? Maybe it's just mine. Did your old lady have a bruise where you hit it?"

"No," I responded, perhaps a little too quickly, hoping Billy couldn't read the lie in my voice. "Nothing. Nada," I added, emphatically.

"That pig-fucking whore," Billy berated the old black woman again.

"Hey, I'll take it off your hands," I said.

"What do you mean?" Billy asked, suddenly wary.

"I mean, I'll get your money back. You know if you go you'll start swearing at the old boot and that will just get her pissed and make her dig in her heels."

"Yeah, yeah, I know. Alright, sure. Think you can do it?"

"I can try. Yeah, I think so."

"Okay, but you owe me the money either way."

Yup, a typical "Billy" deal. Real fair, if your name was Billy. I was relieved his doll hadn't worked and convinced myself that Mom's headache was just a coincidence.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The next day, I got the dolls from Billy. He opened the door and waved me up to his room. I rushed in, hoping to avoid an encounter with his mother. I needn't have worried because she was outside in the backyard.

"Let's go," I said.

"I'm not going, you are," Billy replied.

"Well then just give me the fucking dolls."

"No, I want to try it one last time."

"Why? You said her bullshit didn't work. Just give them to me," I urged.

"One more time," Billy insisted.

He pulled the dolls from under his bed and took them to the window looking over the backyard, casually tossing the one of Mom onto the floor. I winced and bent to pick it up. Billy stared out the window, presumably at his mother. I stepped up beside him and looked down. His mother was bent over one of her rose bushes. I remembered years earlier getting supreme shit from her for breaking a stem off one of them, something Billy had blamed on me.

Billy held the doll over his desk, its feet barely grazing the top.

"Odla bi, Odla ba, On your knees, Ready to please," Billy chanted. "Take that you bitch."

On that note, Billy banged the doll on the back, crashing it face first on the desk, and quickly looked out the window.

"Fucking piece of shit!" he cried.

"What?" I asked.

"She should have fallen on the roses and pricked herself all over. I told you, the fucking thing doesn't work." Billy tossed the doll onto the floor.

"Of course it doesn't. That old whore just made that mumbo jumbo up. I can't believe you fell for it."

"Fuck off. Gary Robinson swore to me it worked. His old lady's into that mysticism crap and she got one to ease her aches and pains, actually massages it herself if you can believe it. Anyway, Gary said he feels it up himself and she treats him real nice now."

"Robinson's a bullshitter," I said.

"Yah, well, he told a good story."

"Yeah, a real live one," I laughed.

"Fuck you," Billy said. "I'm going to give Robinson what for, believe you me."

"Yeah, well don't be too rough on him. You know what happened last time."

I picked up the doll.

"Try it," Billy said.

"Nah, you said it don't work."

"Try it," he insisted.

"Ok. I started to recite the slogan the old woman had written on the doll's back, then stopped and coughed.

"What's the matter?"

"Nothing, just got something in my throat is all."

I started again but this time spoke the words exactly as Billy had said them instead of the way they were written. Upon the last word, I smacked the doll hard, knocking it right out of my hand and onto the floor.

"Good one," Billy yelled, jumping over to the window. He turned away, disgusted. "Nothing. Like I said, the fucking thing doesn't work."

"Ok, I'll take them back."

"Yah, get our money."

I pulled fifty bucks out of my pocket and handed it to Billy. "Don't worry, I'll get it."

"Hey, my man," Billy grinned, admiring the bill. "I thought I'd have to pound on you for this."

"Yeah? You and who's army?"

I laughed but we both knew Billy didn't need any help to take me.

Mrs. Hammond was coming in the back door as I left with the dolls. I rushed outside and hurried onto the street but didn't head downtown. Instead, I went home. Billy had messed up the slogan the old woman had written on the back of the dolls. Lazy old con that she was, she hadn't even put different mumbo jumbo on each doll but had used the same simple jingle for both, and a stolen one at that. I was sure it was all nonsense, but Mom's headache the night before left me with a nagging feeling I wanted to put to rest. I picked up my pace and was running flat out when I got home.

"Hi Mom," I called walking in the front door.

Mom was sitting cross-legged on her yoga mat in the middle of the living room.

"Shhhh," she hissed, her head twitching slightly but less intense than the frown I knew would be on her face in response to my disruptive entry. I wrinkled my nose and flipped a bird at her back. Maybe it wouldn't be such a bad thing if Billy's stupid dolls actually did work. Sometimes Mom could be a pain in the ass. I ran up the stairs, making no attempt to be quiet, and slammed my bedroom door, pleased by the muffled sound of Mom's displeasure, "Jeffrey!"

I took the dolls out and threw the one of Billy's mother on the bed. Holding the other one, I read the note on the back.

"Obla di, Obla da, On your knees, Ready to please."

Billy was mildly dyslexic and had difficulty reading. When we were little, in school, the teacher asked me to help Billy read. That's how we became friends. Amongst other difficulties, Billy couldn't tell the difference between a 'b' and a 'd'. Had he grown up in a house where Beatles music was played all the time, he wouldn't have made that mistake with this lyric. The old boot couldn't even come up with original mumbo jumbo.

Not that it mattered, but I wanted to be sure. I opened my bedroom door and crept down the hall to the little alcove at the top of our stairs and kneeled behind the banister. Mom was still sitting in her yoga position with her hands pressed together in front of herself. I got down on my stomach and peered through the slats, setting the doll in a sitting position in front of me.

"Obla di, Obla da, On your knees, Ready to please," I whispered.

Nothing happened. I frowned. What did I expect?

About to get up, I realized I had only repeated the words, I hadn't actually done anything to the doll. Setting the doll back in front of me, I gently brushed it on the right side and was startled to see Mom abruptly lean to her left, jerking arm hand out straight to break her sudden fall.

A chill shivered up my spine and the hair stood up on the back of my neck. What the fuck?

Mom shook her head and returned to her position. I pinched the doll's hair and, as gently as I could, tugged it back just a smidgeon. Mom's head tilted back.

Holy fuck. I stared at Mom. Her arms were moving slowly in a flowing motion, perfectly balanced from side to side. I pressed my finger into the doll's back and watched as Mom arched hers. I jerked my hand back. Motherfucker!

I watched Mom until her hands came back to rest in front of herself. When she rose up in a fluid motion to her finishing stance, I pushed myself up onto my knees and backed into the hall. Quietly, I returned to my room and shut the door.

Holy fuck! What was this? It worked! The fucking thing actually worked. Billy would really owe me when I showed him how to make the one of his mom work.

No, shit, I couldn't do that. Billy might seriously hurt his mother if he knew how it worked. He'd get carried away, like he always did. I had to take the dolls back, had to get rid of them. I picked up the doll of Billy's mother and stopped dead in my tracks.

It was cold. No, not cold. It was room temperature. I looked at the doll of Mom which I still held in my left hand. It was warm, but it hadn't been when I'd first picked it up. When did it get warm? I looked at it more closely, then compared it to Billy's doll. The one of Mom seemed more real. In addition to being warm, the skin looked more natural and felt less like plastic.

I threw both dolls onto the bed and jumped back. This was weird, and scary. I had to get rid of these cursed things. No, no I couldn't. I couldn't let the one of Mom get into someone else's hands. I'd just get the money back for Billy's.

What to do with the one of Mom. I couldn't destroy it in case it killed her. Or would it, if I didn't say the mumbo jumbo? I decided I couldn't take that chance, which meant I had to keep it in a safe place. I shoved Billy's doll into my backpack ready to take back the next day and tucked Mom's under my pillow for safe keeping until I found a better hiding place.

I stayed in my room until Mom called me down for dinner.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The next day I went over to Billy's place because his mother called and asked to see me. How she knew my number I could only guess. She probably searched Billy's phone. I shivered at the thought of her knowing his password and reading his emails. I went because she said if I didn't come, she would come to my house to talk to my mother without saying what it was all about. Maybe Billy was right, maybe she really was a douchebag. Filled with apprehension, I rang the doorbell. Mrs. Hammond answered the door with a disingenuous smile.

"Well hello, Jeffrey. It's so nice to see you. Please do come in."

She stepped back to let me enter. Her welcome didn't fool me; I had seen her explode on Billy before. Three feet inside the door, wanting to run back outside, I watched while she closed the door and then followed her slender, shiny legs into the kitchen. She was wearing a dress with a short skirt made of a filmy, body-hugging material that very effectively advertised her former-model physique. She may be a bitch but she was a foxy one with a bitching hot body.

I remembered this outfit. I had seen Billy's mom wear it before over the flimsy bikini she used to tan in the backyard, that is, back in the days when I was welcome in her house. As I followed her, I noted that there was no evidence of a bikini top under the barely translucent dress and a similar lack of evidence for a bikini bottom. I was glad when she motioned for me to sit at the table. I covered my lap with my backpack when I sat down and braced myself for whatever tirade was to come. Maybe someone saw Billy and I completing our latest graffiti masterpiece or it she might just be pissed about Billy and I ducking her yesterday.

Mrs. Hammond opened a cupboard and pulled out two tall glasses. She turned and went to the fridge, returning with a pitcher of what looked like green lemonade. Silently, without looking at me, she filled the two glasses, replaced the pitcher and dropped some ice in each glass. Picking up both glasses, she handed one to me and walked back to the counter, hitching herself up on a stool on the side facing me.

"So, Jeffrey. First, thank you for coming over on such short notice..."

I nodded agreeably despite the fear her gracious behavior instilled in me.

"...and secondly, I'd like to acknowledge all the help you've provided for Billy over the years, especially in school."

I nodded more slowly, anticipating the launch into what had being going on outside of school. However, I was distracted when Mrs. Hammond lifted her right leg to cross it over her left knee. The short dress skidded back an inch or so, leaving a sizeable expanse of the underside of her glistening right thigh open to inspection.

Mrs. Hammond raised the glass to her mouth and took a long sip of the green lemonade, perhaps to let her points sink in, but my brain used them to process the lean shape of her leg, an analysis that placed an uplifting pressure on the backpack sitting upon my lap. I blushed when Mrs. Hammond lowered the glass to set it on the counter, revealing a knowing smile. I took a drink myself to cover my reddening face and almost choked. The 'lemonade' was some kind of strong, gin-based drink.

"I thought we should discuss your relationship with my son over the past year," Mrs. Hammond went on while I sputtered.

She looked down at her dress and brushed her hand over it to remove something from her leg that was too small for me to see but I definitely noticed the hem sliding higher up her thigh.

"But I've changed my mind. I think we should agree to forget about the recent past and concentrate instead on the future."

Mrs. Hammond gazed blankly, making me even more uncomfortable. I nodded and hugged the backpack to my chest. Mrs. Hammond smiled confidently.

"Have another drink, Jeffrey."

I took a big swig and was glad for the immediate effect of the gin. Mrs. Hammond waited for me to finish, bouncing her right foot up and down, leveraging that leg over her left knee. The muscles in her right leg tensed and relaxed, alternately stretching and bulging the soft, sexy underside of her long thigh, now naked to within inches of her ass, the beginning of which was identified by an extra bulge of flesh. Mrs. Hammond continued to gaze at me with an undecipherable expression. Unable to discern what she thought about the obvious target of my own attention, I nodded nervously, silently urging her to continue.

"Perhaps you should take a bigger swig before we start."

I did as Mrs. Hammond suggested, feeling I might need it. As soon as I dropped the glass from my mouth, now only a third full, she spoke in a softer but more threatening tone.

"I'm not even going to ask why you gave Billy fifty dollars yesterday, or why you're supposed to give him another fifty tonight."

I looked away to give myself time to think. If she had had read his email or the text messages on his phone, she'd know about the dolls. She didn't seem to know what the money was for, so she had probably just overheard us talking. Did she think Billy was selling drugs?

"Don't even try to deny it," Mrs. Hammond said in response to the expression of denial automatically forming on my face. "I know what I know. Anyway, I want to move past that."

She looked down and brushed something else I couldn't see from her leg, then allowed her eyes to travel along it to her slowly bouncing foot and the brightly painted toes protruding from her matching sandals. She looked up and caught my eyes moving up and down in time with her foot.

"Why don't you finish your drink and bring it over here so we can discuss things properly," she suggested.

I didn't want to but was afraid not to do what she said. I gulped down the rest of the glass and took it over to Billy's mother as she straightened the 'dress' and made a futile attempt to tug it down her legs. All she accomplished by squirming her thighs about was to draw my eyes there more firmly.

Mrs. Hammond's eyes burned into mine as she lifted her own glass and downed its contents. This close up, I could readily see that she wasn't wearing a bikini top under the dress which I now realized was more of a wrap. In fact, she was wearing nothing, not even a bra. The material clung to her smallish breasts which nevertheless managed to slope down and almost fling themselves through the flimsy material. Mrs. Hammond noted my line of sight and smiled.

"Pour us another Jeffrey," she husked, banging her glass down on the counter.

I opened the fridge, retrieved the pitcher, and managed to refill our glasses without spilling a drop even though I snuck several peeks at her chest and was even able to isolate her nipples. When I started to put the pitcher back in the fridge, she spoke abruptly, "Leave it."

I set the pitcher down on the counter and, before turning away, cast my eyes into her lap. There was a hint of black beneath the translucent material of the dress/wrap. The sight of such sexy panties initiated a tingling in my cock which I realized with a start was no longer covered by my backpack. My arms and neck stiffened. I knew I was hard but I couldn't look down to see how apparent my erection was without giving myself away. I looked up and stared fixedly at Mrs. Hammond, hoping to prevent her from looking down. She gazed steadily back at me.

I broke first. "Mrs. Hammond, I can explain..."

"I said I wasn't interested in the past," she cut me off but in a soft voice added, "Really Jeffrey, I want to talk about the future."

She unlimbered her right leg from atop the left and braced her foot on the lower rung of the stool. The action pulled her knees apart and it was impossible for my eyes not to be drawn into the gap that appeared between her thighs. Mrs. Hammond looked down too and attempted to tug her skirt lower but when she lifted her hand it scraped the dress back even further than its original exposed position. I sucked in my breath as an inch-wide slice of black panty appeared. Mrs. Hammond's left hand, which had been resting on the counter, slipped onto mine.

"I want us to work together, closely together," she almost whispered. Coincident with her last word, her thighs widened momentarily, thrusting the panties forward and markedly delineating a dark groove. "I know you're a good friend to Billy. I want to be your friend too. Can you do that, Jeffrey. Can you be my friend and work with me to help Billy?"

I nodded, at a loss for words and unable to pull my eyes away from her panties.

"That's good," she said. "The first thing we have to do is get Billy to stop cruising around on that ridiculous skateboard."

That got my attention. "His skateboard? I don't know Mrs. Hammond. Billy loves his board."

"I know," she said, flexing her thighs, "but it really has to go."

"I don't know. I don't think I can get him to quit using..."

Mrs. Hammond stood up, an action that left her standing so close to me we were almost touching.

"Are you sure, Jeffrey? Skateboards are for little boys. I'm sure if you quit using yours, Billy would too."

Mrs. Hammond's fingers curled around my forearm and lifted it up, pressing it to her side. "Surely you're ready for more manly things, Jeffrey?"

I stifled a gasp. My hand was pressing against the side of Mrs. Hammond's left breast. I could feel its warmth and the outline of it shape in my palm. She pressed my hand closer to her chest and I was surprised by the meatiness of her little tit. Mrs. Hammond turned her head to the right and twisted her torso slightly with it, grazing my palm with a hard nipple.

"I don't know what I'm going to do if you can't help me, Jeffrey," she sounded suddenly vulnerable. "I was counting on your help."

"Uh, I can try, Mrs. Hammond," I choked.

She looked up at me but kept her breast turned into my palm.

"Will you try to help me?"

I nodded, my wooden head. "Yeah, I will, Mrs. Hammond."

"That's wonderful, Jeffrey."

Billy's mom stretched up on her toes and kissed me on the cheek and then briefly brushed her lips across mine.

"Thank you," she breathed, staying up on her toes. "You don't know how much I appreciate your help."

Her right arm curled around my neck and she stretched her mouth toward me again. As her lips nibbled at mine, she pulled my arm closer, closing my hand over her little tit. I was so stunned, I stood there like a stump. Even the moistness of her lips couldn't block the sense of the hard nipple digging into my palm, even when they sustained a more firm pressure that could only be interpreted as a kiss. But it wasn't the kiss that pushed aside the impact of Mrs. Hammond's nipple in my brain, it was the brush of her belly against the peak of the tent in my pants. When she pulled away a few seconds later, by only an inch or so, Mrs. Hammond smiled under glazed eyes and seemed poised to recapture my lips but slowly sank back onto her feet instead.

"Get rid of his skateboard so we can talk about the next step," she husked. "I'll be so grateful to you, Jeffrey." Her smile widened. "Very grateful," she purred.

She fell back on her heels and spun away.

"Mr. Hammond should be home soon. He's coming early today."

I was dismissed. I picked up my backpack and made my way awkwardly to the door, opened it and turned to say goodbye. Mrs. Hammond was leaning in the kitchen doorway, her hips cocked up against the jamb.

"I hope to see you soon, Jeffrey. Oh, by the way," she said seductively, "do you think Billy is interested in girls too?"

I closed the door and ran home, sort of. I had to slow to a walk several times because my boner was so hard.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

I didn't see Mom when I got home which suited me just fine because my erection was killing me. I rushed upstairs to my room where I quickly fished out and started pulling on my pud. Fuck, Billy's mom was hot! For a minute there I thought she wanted me to fuck her. I mean, she actually kissed me and pushed her tit into my hand. On purpose!

Slowing my whizzing hand so I could prolong the enjoyment of the memory of Mrs. Hammond's parting stance, I opened my backpack and rummaged around for Billy's doll. There was no way I was taking this back. Not now! The doll felt warm, just like the one of Mom had, and its legs looked more like real flesh instead of plastic too. I put it on my desk and sped up my hand to finish myself out the open window but stopped cold with my fingers curled tightly around my shaft.

Mom was lying outside on her yoga pad, stretched out on her stomach with her hands in front of her, reading a pocket book. She was wearing a bikini but the top had been unhooked and the straps were laid out to her sides. Instantly, the sensation of Mrs. Hammond's tit burned into my hand. What would it feel like to hold Mom's bigger tit?

My hand started moving on my cock as my eyes ran down Mom's lovely legs and slowly returned up to her fine, more substantial ass. The tiny bikini was obviously designed for tanning in private. Gosh, Mom should show her body more often. Mother or not, older woman or not, I knew I would fuck that in an instant if given half a chance. Her legs weren't long like Mrs. Hammond's but they were nicely shaped and I liked the look of her fleshier ass, especially the notable crease between her cheeks.

"Oh man, I'd love to fuck that," I hissed.

I let go of my cock and batted it away. What the fuck are you thinking? I looked away but then twisted my head back to look at Mom. She was hot, quite hot. It was as if a secret had been revealed. My hand moved back to my cock but instead of grasping it I turned around and pulled Mom's doll from under my pillow. I set it down beside the one of Billy's mom, but face down.

Opening the drawer of my desk, I scrambled around inside, picking up a pencil, a paper clip, a ruler and an eraser, discarding each in turn until, finally, I held an artist's paint brush. Quickly dissatisfied, I threw it away too. It was too thick. I leaned down to examine the contents and picked out another brush designed for delicate work.

I looked outside to make sure Mom was still there. Perfect. Quickly, I removed the dress from the doll. The bra underneath wouldn't come undone and I couldn't get it off so I found some scissors and cut it off.

I looked outside, armed with the paintbrush. Excited, fingers trembling, I put the tip on the back of the doll's ankles and slowly dragged it up the crease between its tightly pressed-together legs. I chortled with excitement, watching intently for a reaction from Mom, but there was nothing. Absolutely nothing.

Right, right.

Obla di, Obla da, On your knees, Ready to please.

I retraced the paintbrush's path.

Mom reached back and scratched the back of her leg, near her knee. I was so excited, I could hardly keep the paintbrush still. I took a deep breath and, forcing myself to concentrate, tickled it back up Mom's legs. Her legs twitched and she scratched herself again. Ecstatic, I laughed out loud, then quickly covered my mouth as I remembered the window was open. After another deep breath, I tickled the doll's legs again. Mom wiggled her bum and moved her legs apart but didn't scratch them. Encouraged, I ran the brush more slowly up the doll's legs and Mom's twitching legs parted even further.

I dug through the drawer for a smaller brush but couldn't find one. Running over to my cupboard, I retrieved a paint set that I hadn't used for years. Tossing it on the bed I yanked the cover off and got the smallest brush there. It was tiny, designed for extremely fine work. 


I hurried back to the doll and looked outside. Perfect. Mom was still reading. I put the tip of the brush on the back of the doll's left shoulder and slowly traced a swirling line around the edge of its back. Mom didn't seem to react but I kept dragging the tip of the brush around. For a change, I broke away at the doll's neck and ran the brush down its spine. Mom shivered and put her book down. She laid her head in her arms.

"Wow," I cried.

I played the brush all over the doll's back, a thrill coursing through me whenever Mom twitched. I tickled down the doll's legs, along the back and up and down each side. I even tickled the doll's feet which made Mom lift her each foot temporarily before letting it slowly drop back to the mat. I was surprised, when it happened, by how long it took me to brush the tip across the doll's ass.

Soon, I was brushing all over the doll's cheeks and tracing the edge of its panties. I dipped the tip into the crease at the top of the doll's perfectly formed butt and found the apex at the top of the doll's legs. Mom twitched violently and squeezed her legs closed.

I twirled the brush over my tongue to stiffen it and used it to urge the doll's panties lower on its bum. The movement of Mom's hands startled me at first. I thought she was going to get up but instead her fingers dug into the sides of her bikini and pushed it down a couple of inches. I couldn't move for a minute. The crease of Mom's ass was starkly evident and I could feel precum seeping from my cock. I grasped it and stroked it several times but released it in favor of further fun with the brush.

Twirling the brush around in my mouth, I pressed it between the dolls legs, hard up against where its pussy would have been if it had been real. I twirled the brush round and round, keeping the pressure on. Mom's legs seem to quiver. Was that my imagination? There was no way I could see that well from here but when her ass lifted off the mat and swayed from side to side, I was convinced she was reacting to the brush. Fucking 'A'.

I pushed the brush down and dragged it back up, then pressed it in again and again, bulging it against the doll's pretend pussy. Mom's ass churned and her hands disappeared beneath herself. Holy smokes, she was getting herself off. I dropped the brush, since it was no longer necessary, and grabbed my cock. As Mom's ass jerked around in a small oval, I stroked my cock.

"Yeah, Mom. Do it. Do it."

I picked up the doll and held it in front of me with its legs spread open. I pushed the tip of my cock onto its tiny ass and rubbed my glans over it as I jacked off. Mom's ass moved faster and more erratically.

"Oh god, yeah," I cried, spewing my come all over the doll and beyond. It was a veritable flood which mostly shot out the window but thankfully not far enough to reach Mom.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

"I don't care. Take it if you want. Who gives a shit?"

I walked down Billy's drive to the sidewalk.

Billy scooted past me and pulled up at the end of the drive.

"Let's go to your place and get your board."

"No. I'm not taking it."

"Why?"

"I told you. None of the chicks think it's cool and I want to get it on with one of them."

"Which one?" Billy asked.

"I ain't tellin' you."

I kept walking.

"Fucking Hell!" Billy exclaimed.

I heard him kick his board up and a few seconds later it clattered on the driveway. I turned to look just in time to see Billy's arms swing back from tossing his board. He ran to catch up.

"Tell me whose pant's you want to get into," he demanded.

"I'll show you," I said, "as long as you don't say anything. If you fuck it up for me, I'll kill you."

Billy laughed. "Yeah? You and who's army?"

We toddled off down the street but my mind was on the curtain that had moved. I pictured Billy's mom behind it, and could hardly wait to see her to collect my reward. A few more days of Billy not using his board should be enough. I could only imagine what she meant by 'grateful, very grateful'. Maybe holding her bare tit and maybe even kissing it? Or grabbing a handful of her skinny butt that didn't even make her pants go tight. It even sagged down a bit but I pictured it as two sexy halves of a cut-open pear and wanted it anyway. I rubbed my cock through my jeans.

"Jeez, that girl's got you going, doesn't she?"

"What? Oh, yeah. I'd really like to do her."

"Tell me who it is."

"Wait until we get downtown," I said.

I didn't want to tell Billy in case Janet wasn't at the show like we'd arranged. This was costing me another fifty bucks but it would be worth it if it worked. I was relieved when we got to the theatre and I saw Janet Johnson waiting outside with her constant companion, Wendy Hicks. This was a complication. I walked straight toward them, trying to keep my temper under control.

"No way," Billy whispered under his breath as it became clear that I wasn't headed past them.

"Shut up," I whispered back.

"Hey Jeff," Janet smiled.

"Hey Janet. You ready to go in?"

"Sure. Wendy's coming too."

Wendy looked disgusted. Obviously, she was doing this for her friend.

"Uh... okay." I acted like it was a surprise but it was part of the bargain. I needed Billy to get interested in Wendy so he didn't start using his board again.

"Okay, I'll pay your way," Billy offered reluctantly. I was sure he just wanted to see what happened between Janet and I and if that meant suffering through a movie, so be it.

"No way," Wendy said.

Billy smiled, confirming my suspicion. Watching on the cheap was better.

"Let him. It'll be fun," Janet interjected.

"Well, alright, but it's not a date," Wendy stated emphatically.

Billy looked unhappy but joined us anyway. I bought two tickets for me and Janet and Billy did the same for him and Wendy. I started for the theatre, grabbing Janet's hand to make it look good but she steered me to the concession.

"I like coke and lots of butter on my popcorn," she said. "And get big ones."

Boy, she was really pushing it. I gritted my teeth and imagined Mrs. Hammond opening the door to greet me, a huge appreciative smile on her face and the wrap half undone. I bought a couple of extra chocolate bars. In the darkness of the theatre, I slipped Janet the money but held back twenty bucks.

"What gives?" she hissed.

"You gotta make it look good," I said, pulling her close.

I opened my mouth and covered her lips with mine, pushing my tongue into her mouth right away. She struggled a bit so I backed off and tried to kiss her nicely. A few seconds later, to my surprise, she renewed the kiss and it slowly grew more and more intense. Janet pulled away and whispered, "You're a good kisser when you try."

I didn't answer because I wasn't sure what I'd done to kiss well. I pushed my face close to hers and waited for her to make contact. Maybe that was it, holding back and letting her come to me. This time it was Janet who was in a hurry to push her tongue into my mouth.

I didn't mean to touch her tits. I was just trying to pull her closer, reaching around with my arm, but she pulled it right onto her tit. That was fine by me. I played it cool and within no time she was pushing it into my hand. Somehow, my hand slipped under her shirt and inside her bra. She had small ones like Billy's mom so it was easy to imagine myself fondling her bare tit and the nipple felt just the way I remembered it. I thought how weird it was to sit near Billy, rubbing a bare tit and imagining it was his mother's, knowing I might have a real chance of doing exactly that in a few days. I got a little carried away with my prowess and dropped my hand onto Janet's legs, then quickly moved up to cup her crotch.

"Hey, wait," she protested.

I was about to apologize but something made me reconstitute my response and I whispered back, "I'm not a jerk-off goody-goody like your boyfriend, so . . ."

Janet responded as if we were on a real date, one she wanted to continue. "I didn't mean anything, just don't go so fast, that's all."

I rubbed the jeans over her pussy, slowly like she said.

"Like that?" I asked.

"Yeah," Janet Johnson purred, seeking my lips out with her mouth.

That was the best kiss ever because it was the first time I had held a girl's pussy in my hand and hadn't had it bashed it away. She didn't even protest when I flipped the button undone on her jeans and pulled it apart to unzip them. She was so much warmer through just her panties. In the midst of an even longer kiss, I nudged them aside and slid my finger into her slick warmth.

Rather than slugging me, Janet's mouth really went to town on my face. I wasn't sure what to do so I curled my finger up in her groove, then straightened and pushed it in as far as I could, then pulled it out and curled it up and straightened it out several times before pushing it back in. Soon, I was steadily finger fucking her. Janet kept chewing on my face until her body went stiff and shuddered, then she eased back and buried her face in my shoulder.

While Janet's face was buried, I put her hand on my cock. She pulled away slightly but not all the way so I quickly undid my jeans and pulled her hand back, placing in on my shorts, then pulling the elastic down and letting my cock spring onto her hand. I almost cried out loud when her fingers closed around it.

"Suck it," I whispered.

"I can't," she protested. "Not in here, anyway."

I was amazed she hadn't told me to fuck off and was actually considering it.

"Where then?" I grabbed her hand and started jacking my cock with it.

"Don't. We'll get caught."

Janet pulled her hand away but she didn't freak out.

"You can't stop now."

"I'll make up for it," she hissed.

"Okay," I whispered, trying with some difficulty to get my cock back into my pants. The way Janet was staring at my cock made me think. "It's bigger than Brent's, isn't it."

Janet nodded. Brent was her boyfriend, one of the cool guys at school. I knew when she didn't freak out she was used to handling Brent's. I took a chance that she was used to something else too.

"Think it's too big for your mouth?"

"It's not that big," she spoke derisively, then added more honestly, "I don't know."

"I'll do the same for if you try," I said.

"What?"

"I'll kiss you down there if you suck it."

"Really?"

"Yeah, really." Obviously, Brent didn't go down on her.

"Okay, I'll give it a try."

"When?"

"Tomorrow," she said. "I get my Mom's car tomorrow afternoon. Meet me here, alone."

"Here's the rest of the money," I whispered.

"Keep it until tomorrow," she said. "Billy's watching."

Shit, I had set this up to pull Billy away from his board so I could get something from his Mom, but if Janet Johnson was going to suck my cock, who gave a shit about Billy's old lady?

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

"I don't believe it," Billy cried. "I still can't believe it." He whirled around in a circle then caught up to me when I didn't stop. "You got your hand in her pants!"

"Hey, don't say anything about that," I warned.

"I won't, I won't, but I saw it. You were frigging her good. That bitch Wendy even let me feel her up. At first, she wouldn't let me do nothin' but when she saw you friggin Janet, she let me touch her tits."

"Did she let you frig her?"

"Nah, but I rubbed it through her pants."

"Well, that's a start."

"I can't believe it. You and me, with Janet Johnson and Wendy Hicks."

"Well, you better keep it to yourself lessen you want to get beat up."

"I ain't afraid of them. If that Brent asshole hassles you, you just let me know. I'll take care of him."

"Thanks, but I'd just as soon keep it quiet."

"Yeah, that's even better. We'll fuck their girls right under their noses." Billy laughed really hard. "Fucking right. Fuck you, you jocks." He jabbed his fist into the air, taking out an imaginary foe.

"Hey Billy?"

"What?"

"Don't piss your old lady off this week."

"Why not?"

"Cause I'm going to set up a date this weekend with Janet and Wendy. Maybe we can go somewhere in her old lady's car."

"Yeah, ok. I'll be real nice to the old bitch."

"And leave your skateboard at home. We don't want Janet and Wendy seeing us on skateboards."

"Yeah, ok."

"Better yet. Throw it out in the shed or something in case she comes over to pick us up."

"Okay, if you say so."

"I say so."

"You're the dude, man. Fingering Janet Johnson. Fuckin 'A', man."

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

We had driven out of town and took the first dirt road we came to. It ran into a yard but we backtracked and took an even older side road which turned into an overgrown trail before long. Janet turned toward me, ready to keep her promise but I got out and opened the back door. She laughed and crawled in from the other side. I loosened my belt and stood by the door waiting for her.

"Pretty cocky, aren't you?" Janet laughed as she undid my belt and unzipped my jeans.

"That's what they say," I responded, cockily.

"Well, they aren't kidding," Janet breathed, pulling it out from my shorts. "Fuck, it looks way bigger in the daylight. I don't know if I can."

"Sure you can," I said, suddenly getting worried. "Just start with the tip."

It was hard playing cool. Her soft fingers felt so good. She played with it, stroked it a few times and ran her other hand down to cup my balls, as if she hadn't yet convinced herself she could take it into her mouth. Dragging her hand up with thumb and index finger tightly encircling my shaft, she cooed, "Let's give it a whirl."

I braced myself for the bliss of her moist mouth, the first one ever to envelop my cock, except in my dreams. However, I was disappointed. Janet reached down into her purse, which was sitting on the floor in front of the seat, and pulled out a condom.

"Brent never remembers to bring one of these," she giggled, tearing the package open.

Fuck. Sure, I could see using a rubber if she was going to let me fuck her, but for a blowjob? I frowned at the top of her head as she placed the rubber on the tip of my cock and stretched it over the helmet and then rolled the condom down my shaft.

"Maybe I should have got a bigger one," Janet cooed.

That made me feel better. My frown disappeared and I convinced myself that Janet was making me use a rubber because she was going to let me fuck her after sucking on my dick for a while. I smiled in anticipation as she paused, hovering over my sheathed cock, then bent down with open lips. I couldn't help nudging it in.

"Ahhhh, that's so great Janet," I cried as the warmth of her mouth surrounded my glans.

She pulled her head back and smiled up at me.

"You like that."

"Yeah," I cried, wishing she'd shut up and put her mouth back where it belonged.

"Twenty bucks," she laughed.

"Twenty bucks," I cried. "You'd better be good for twenty bucks," I laughed louder.

"You only have to pay me if it's worth it," Janet continued playing our impromptu game.

I put my hand gently on top of her head and tipped it forward onto the tip of my cock.

"I'll give you fifty," I said, urging her down.

Janet relaxed the muscles in her neck and let me push her head down until it enveloped the entire head of my cock. I was pleased to see it was a struggle to open her mouth wide enough to get it in.

"Ahhhh, fuck Janet, that's nice."

Janet moved her head back and forth, only an inch or so, but it felt fantastic. My first fucking blowjob! As she kept bobbing her head, she tried to work more into her mouth but couldn't seem to manage it. I became acclimatized to her mouth on the top of my shaft and was eager to feel her lips crawling lower on my pole and the imagined, pulpy feel of her tonsils on the head of my dick. After a while, I became impatient, believing she wasn't trying hard enough.

What was the big deal? Why couldn't she suffer a little discomfort? I said I'd go down on her after, didn't I, and that was a sacrifice in itself, taking on a face full of snooch. Juvenile jokes about the tide being out and smelling anchovies flitted through my mind. I screwed up my face and put my hands on the back of Janet's head, pulling it onto my cock. She sputtered and tried to pull away but I held her firm, my shaft bending as I tried to force it into her mouth despite the pain of scraping over her teeth.

"Ahhhhh, ughhhhhh," she gasped when she finally managed to yank her head off my cock. "You fucking asshole," she yelled.

Well, Janet might be practised giving Brent to blowjobs but it wasn't as good as I thought it would be. In fact, until I grabbed her head and shoved my cock deeper, it had been downright boring. Mind you, that didn't stop me from blowing my wad. I let loose a huge gusher and, given how tightly the rubber gripped my cock, shouldn't have been surprised when the end of it blew right off and my spunk spurted all over her angry face. I guess she should have kept her teeth off my cock.

Maybe Janet was even more shocked than I, or perhaps she couldn't see with one eye closed from my sticky cum, but whatever the reason, she didn't try to block my spurting cock from jamming back into her mouth, though she sputtered and gurgled and waved her arms around. When I was empty, I felt bad. Janet looked up at me, speechless and in utter shock, my cum dripping from her face. I pulled my t-shirt over my head and handed it to her, then waited while she wiped her face clean. Quite the picture of our likely Prom Queen.

"That was worth twenty bucks?" I said.

"And an extra fifty," she replied. "Or I'll tell Brent, you asshole."

"It was an accident," I complained.

"I don't give a shit."

"Ok. Twenty and fifty more."

Janet laughed. "And I want what you promised."

She grabbed my hand and pulled me into the car, falling backward and spreading her legs. She wasn't wearing any panties under her short skirt. Without ceremony, she pulled my face onto her pussy.

"Lick it," she cried.

Her far from docile pussy began humping my face as soon as my tongue stretched out to taste her already swollen lips. Janet's fingers curled through my hair and held my head tight. It wasn't comfortable but this was payback and I guess I owed her.

"Yeah, oh yeah, lick it good," Janet cried, thrusting her snooch into my face.

She steered my head all over her pussy, directing my tongue where she wanted it most at any particular moment. I learned quite a bit by letting her handle me and started to get a feel for what she wanted. I even managed to pleasantly surprise her the few times she allowed me the freedom to move. Her moans let me know she liked being surprised but she didn't fully relinquish control. I understood that. The best part of fucking her mouth had been the bit at the end when I jammed my cock in deep, and then coming in her face and sticking it back into her mouth, forcing sloppy, gurgling sounds from her throat.

Janet came hard, and then came again a moment later. She pulled me further into the car and twisted to the front to let me lie against the back of the seat. Surprisingly, she kissed me, so perhaps I was forgiven. After a few minutes of kissing, she pulled me so I was flat on my back and got up on top of me. I thought I was going to get fucked for the first time in my life and held my cock up, still partly covered with the broken rubber, for her to squat on but she ignored it and straddled my chest instead, pushing her soaked pussy forward.

She looked down and hissed, "So you like to facefuck, do you?"

She was upon me in a flash and started humping my mouth furiously. All I could do was stick my tongue up and make it as stiff as I could so she could find it with her sweet spot and bring herself off as quickly as possible. Despite that, she wrenched around on me for quite a while. When she finished, she pulled herself down to my cock, which was still hard, grabbed it, pushed it away and pulled it back, then flung it away.

"I don't fuck," she said.

We drove back to town in silence. Janet prompted me for the money when she dropped me off and I handed it to her without argument. I was more concerned with how I could broach the topic of continuing our relationship. After all, a warm mouth on my cock, even covered with a fucking rubber, was better than my hand.

"Do you and Wendy want to double date this weekend?" I asked.

"You've got to be kidding. Get out, asshole!"

Billy was going to be pissed. How was I going to keep him on track without the lure of time with Wendy?

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The week passed without incident. Billy had kept his word about leaving the skateboard behind all week and assured me he'd been nice to his mom. I was looking forward to seeing her on Saturday while he was working to capitalize on Billy's good behavior all week.

My responses to his queries about Janet, and more importantly to him, Wendy, were evasive to say the least, but somehow, I managed to keep the news of Janet's disgust with me under wraps. The last thing I wanted was a Billy tirade and collateral sabotage of my plans for Saturday with his mom if her found out that Wendy wouldn't see him because of me.

I knew I'd have to spill the beans Saturday afternoon, regardless of how well things went that morning. Billy's father played golf on Saturdays so I was sure to have the grateful Mrs. Hammond to myself. I could hardly wait until the morning. I needed to do something to keep my mind occupied and make the clock run faster.

Dad was working late and Mom was downstairs listening to some mood music. I wandered over to my desk and opened the big drawer where I had put the dolls. I meant to pick up the one of Mrs. Hammond but my fingers passed over to the one of Mom. I picked it up and examined it. Several seconds later, I brushed my fingertips across its breasts and then turned it over to apply the same treatment to its ass. I picked up the paintbrush.

"Obla di, Obla da, On your knees, Ready to please," I whispered.

I opened the door quietly and crept down the hall. Settling in behind the banister, I looked down on Mom, sitting with her back to me. Her head turned to the side as if she'd heard me and I froze but a moment later she carried on with what she was doing.

I set the doll in front of me between my legs and gently began working the bristles between the dolls legs, twirling the brush against the doll's upper thighs. After several minutes of this, I heard a quiet moan from Mom and I smiled. Who would have thought I would become a believer in voodoo?

I know you're lonely, Mom, so I'm going to get you off real nice.

The doll warmed in my hands but I expected that. I pulled the top off for better access and was only mildly surprised when Mom abruptly shed her shirt. She wasn't wearing a bra so I was treated to an unbroken expanse of back skin with a intriguing spinal groove that ended between the swells of flesh that defined the upper reaches of Mom's ass just above her pants. The way she was sitting, I could also see the swells of her right tit peeking out to the side. I moved the brush up and tickled it along the side and over the top of the doll's breasts.

Do you like that, Mom, I thought as she wiggled in response. I bet you do.

I trailed the bristles as lovingly as I could around Mom's chest, skirting her breasts but tickling the undersides and once or twice venturing south to dip between her legs for a quick pussy tease. After a very long while, I tugged the pants off the doll and watched with barely contained glee as Mom stood up and pushed her black stretchy pants down. Kicking them unceremoniously to the side, she was about to sit but changed her mind and pushed her panties down, then tossed them away with a flourish. She remained half-bent over for a few seconds, which allowed me to leisurely gaze at her bare ass and pouting pussy. As if reluctant to do so, she finally sat down.

Stunned, I sat for a moment, then pushed the doll onto its knees. Mom rocked forward onto all fours. I pressed the doll's head lower and Mom lowered herself onto her elbows on the carpet. Carefully, I inserted the brush between the doll's legs and started rubbing its pussy from behind. Mom's ass rocked gently back and forth as if the bristles were touching her. I even thought I heard her whimper once or twice.

She looked so fucking hot, my trembling fingers could hardly manipulate the paintbrush. When Mom dropped her forehead onto the carpet, the sight of her naked ass blossoming toward me forced drool from the corner of my mouth onto the handle. I spared one eye to watch it ooze along the slender shaft until it coated the bristles and wetted the area between the doll's legs. My cock became brittle when I detected the glistening presence of moisture between Mom's quivering thighs.

I yanked my cock out of my pants and tucked it up underneath my shirt. Unable to handle it and fondle the doll at the same time, I squeezed my left elbow in to rub it against my stomach. The paintbrush twirled and spun, faster and faster. Mom had folded her elbows out and was now lying with her face on the mat, ass high in the air, humping an imaginary lover. If only I could leap over the banister and impale that beautiful, quivering, beckoning pussy! It was incredibly hard to resist the urge.

Mom's hips suddenly slowed and a series of violent twists racked her body, tossing her ass around in a set of wild gyrations. The sight of her coming so hard triggered an explosion in my balls and forced a geyser up my shaft which burst inside my shirt in five or six huge spurts that painted my chest with sticky goo.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The next morning, well, about noon, really—I hadn't been able to sleep until the wee hours of the morning and slept in—I was at Billy's place to see his mother. There was no answer to the bell so I precociously opened the door and called out, something I would never have done before. Mrs. Hammond was waiting just inside the door.

"Come in and sit. I'll be right back down, Jeffrey," Mrs. Hammond spoke in a fairly husky voice. Her hand waved toward the living room before she turned away and walked slowly up the stairs.

Despite her instruction, I stood in the entranceway and watched her sashay up the stairs. Her gait was hard to describe in definite terms. It wasn't quite saucy but was far from the way she normally walked. Halfway up, she turned and smiled at me. She didn't repeat her instructions for me to sit down in the living room and didn't seem upset to find me watching her. The black slacks she was wearing clung tightly to her butt, outlining a behind that, while smaller than optimal, was certainly worth looking at.

Mrs. Hammond turned away and I continued to examine her ass until she disappeared. She didn't turn back to look at the top of the stairs but she had to know I was looking. With butterflies in my stomach, I went into the living room to wait for her return, choosing a seat on the couch by the window to wait for her return.

I became lost within a reverie of Mrs. Hammond's gratitude for breaking the tie between Billy and his skateboard so she was halfway down the stairs before her light footfall penetrated my ears. I looked up and my mouth dropped open when I saw a vision approaching me.

Unreal. Mrs. Hammond was dressed in a scarlet silk evening dress with matching shoes. The dress hugged her slim thighs and hips before parting to reach up and over her shoulders. I knew by the way it curled around her neck that the dress left her back entirely bare. In front, the dress was cut deeply between her breasts, the gap revealing an uninterrupted stretch of skin that immediately advertised the absence of a bra. On either side, Mrs. Hammond's smallish breasts nevertheless managed to announce themselves in a slinging projection that quivered with each step. That alone would have instantly stiffened my cock but, combined with the whole package—pretty smiling face, gorgeous hair, bare arms, well-oiled legs—was almost too much to bear. I almost came in my pants just looking at her. Mrs. Hammond stepped into the room and stopped a few feet in front of me.

"A gentleman always stands when a woman enters a room, Jeffrey," she said, managing to incriminate but in a pleasant tone of voice.

I jumped to my feet, face flushed by her presence and the fact that I knew she had seen me staring at her with my mouth agape.

"Mr. Hammond is taking me out to a fancy luncheon and I just don't know what to wear," she mused. "Do you think this is too much for a restaurant, Jeffrey?"

"N-n-no," I stammered as Mrs. Hammond slowly twirled in front of me.

I was right, her unblemished back was completely exposed and the dress dipped so low that the top of her ass cheeks were revealed. My eyes were still locked on them when Mrs. Hammond came fully about. She grasped my hands in hers.

"Are you sure, Jeffrey," she asked through her perpetual smile. "You don't think it's too risqué?"

Mrs. Hammond arched her back slightly and brought our hands together in front of her, squeezing her breasts together and pushing them up. Abruptly, she pulled our hands apart while her breasts were still thrust forward, forcing the dress so tightly around them they stood out in stark relief, and the fact that only the dress covered them became painfully obvious. I wished I could adjust the boner bending inside my pants.

"Jeffrey?"

"Oh... uh, no. It's wonderful. Um, you look gorgeous, stunning."

"Why, thank you, Jeffrey," Mrs. Hammond glowed. She dropped my hands and grasped the lapels of the dress. "You don't think it's cut too low, do you? A bigger woman would be in danger of falling out, but I guess I needn't worry about that." Mrs. Hammond pulled the dress out and her slopey tits tumbled together, almost falling out of the dress. "Oops," she cried, releasing the dress. "I guess I have just enough there to be worried about."

She sure did. Mrs. Hammond seemed to be unaware that the dress, when released, hadn't completely covered her left breast, and its nipple was now partially exposed.

"What about the back, Jeffrey?"

Mrs. Hammond spun half around, arching her back. I followed her curved spine down, seeing that her clear skin glistened almost as much as her oiled legs. She must have covered herself with some kind of body lotion. I noticed that the sheen carried right down into the crack of her ass. Pulling back a bit, as if applying professional scrutiny, I checked out her entire behind, searching for a panty line. I couldn't see one.

"No," I said, recovering a little. "It looks perfect."

"What looks perfect, Jeffrey?" Mrs. Hammond asked in a definitely throaty voice, a sound that implied she knew exactly where I was looking.

"Uh, your... I mean, you, look perfect."

"It feels as if the dress is sitting crooked."

I looked. The deepest part of the 'V' was sitting directly above Mrs. Hammond's crack.

"No, it's perfect," I said.

She ignored my answer. "Could you fix it, please?"

Mrs. Hammond arched her back even more, accenting the line of her spine.

Tentatively, I placed my hands on her hips, then rubbed the dress to the right and back to the left, leaving it where it originally was.

"No, silly," Mrs. Hammond purred. "Use your finger to line it up."

Line it up? She could only mean the apex of the 'V' and the crack of her ass. I crooked the tip of each index finger under the dress and slowly brought them down to the apex of the 'V' until they were resting at the top of her crack.

"Make sure it's perfect," Mrs. Hammond whispered.

I wiggled my fingertips around in the crack of her ass for a few seconds. Mrs. Hammond turned her head sideways but didn't say anything and I took her motion to be tacit approval for what I was doing. When she finally pulled forward, my fingers were pressed as far as they could go inside the dress, a good couple of inches along her ass crack. Mrs. Hammond spun around to face me.

"Thank you, Jeffrey," she whispered. "Mr. Hammond isn't very good at that."

"No problem," I whispered back, my voice shaking.

"Could you fix my front too?" she asked, looking down. Though it was impossible to miss her nipple peeking out, Mrs. Hammond ignored it.

I hooked my fingers under the lapels of Mrs. Hammond's dress and pretended to adjust it too. Despite the fact that she was watching me, I moved the dress about more boldly, lifting it from her chest and pulling it aside to provide an unobstructed view of each breast. I ran my fingers up and down the length of the lapels several times, holding it away from her chest all the way up and all the way down. In the end, forgetting myself, I stopped and simply held the dress apart, staring at her slopey, hanging little tits.

"Do you think they're too small, Jeffrey?"

I hadn't noticed but I suddenly became distinctly aware that Mrs. Hammond, while I was playing with her dress, had moved closer to me and her pelvis was now pressing against my jeans. She wiggled on my erection. Flustered, I forgot to answer her question.

"Mr. Hammond thinks they are." She wiggled again.

"No. No. I don't ... I think they're ... perfect."

Another wiggle.

"You're just saying that."

Wiggle.

Was she kidding? Even though they were small and slopey, they were still kind of meaty and her nipples were standing out very prominently now, much more than when she first came down the stairs.

"No. They're perfect," I said, enthralled.

"How can you tell, just by looking?" Mrs. Hammond husked.

I moved my hands closer until they hovered over Mrs. Hammond's perky tits. Unsure of myself, I balked.

"Can I?" I asked, stupidly.

"Of course," she breathed. "You've been ever so helpful."

I cupped my hands under her breasts and gently brought them up into contact. Mrs. Hammond wiggled against me as soon as our skin met.

"I told you I'd be grateful if you could help me with Billy. It's ok, Jeffrey, they won't break."

I squeezed her lemons, pinching her stiff nipples in the crook between my thumbs and the edge of my hands. The were long enough to poke through.

"That's nice, Jeffrey," Mrs. Hammond husked, pressing harder against my erection and maintaining the pressure. "Very nice."

I played with her tits for another minute before she spoke again.

"Would you like to kiss them, Jeffrey?"

I nodded. Mrs. Hammond simply looked at me with a blank expression, neither offering nor declining her wares. I leaned closer but her expression didn't change. I dipped my head but failed to elicit a different response. Feeling as if I was leaping off a cliff, I ducked down and pressed my lips onto the upper swell of her right breast. I was afraid to do more. I didn't even move my lips. Mrs. Hammond grasped my head gently and moved my mouth onto her straining nipple.

"Suck it, Jeffrey."

I pulled at it with trembling lips, then brought the tip of my tongue to bear from underneath and sucked.

Yeah, oh yeah, I thought, my true enthusiasm surfacing.

Mrs. Hammond pushed her nipple into my mouth, reflecting my enthusiasm with her own.

"I told you I'd be very grateful, Jeffrey. If you help me some more with Billy, I can be even more grateful. A mother will do anything to help her son."

"I'll do whatever you need me to do," I responded eagerly.

I bent my head and Mrs. Hammond leaned back, lifting her other nipple up to my hungry mouth. That's when Mr. Hammond's car came screeching into the driveway.

"Oh, shit. He's early," Mrs. Hammond cursed, pushing me away and pulling her dress as closed as it could get, which wasn't much. "Go into the kitchen. Hurry!"

I ran into the kitchen and stood in the corner farthest from the doorway, scared shitless. The door burst open.

"Where have you been?" Mrs. Hammond demanded.

"Traffic, I got stuck in traffic," Mr. Hammond answered, sounding taken aback by her angry tone.

"I'll get that," Mrs. Hammond said. There was a heavy thump as something big hit the floor, followed by the rattle of golf clubs.

"Jesus, why are you wearing that?"

"Why not?" Mrs. Hammond's voice was rebellious.

"For Christ's sake, Vanessa, Billy will be home soon."

"Okay, okay. I'll change. Go up and get a shower. You stink."

"Alright, but I'm already late to meet Benson."

"It won't hurt him to wait for you for a change."

"Aren't you coming?" Mr. Hammond yelled as he thumped up the stairs.

"I have to put some things away in the kitchen first."

Something weird was going on. Evidently, Mr. Hammond wasn't taking his wife out to any fancy luncheon. That was all a charade. I was scared and wanted to get the hell out of there. As soon as I heard his footsteps retreating down the hallway, I peeked around the edge of the doorway, ready to make a beeline for the front door, but Mrs. Hammond pushed me back into the kitchen.

"Wait Jeffrey," she said, one hand on my chest holding me back as I tried to push my way through the kitchen doorway. "Promise me you'll still help me with Billy."

I cast a worried look up the stairs. "I said I would," I said, trying to push through her.

"Promise me," she insisted, noting and laughing at my fear.

"I promise," I said, solemnly. "Please, let me go."

"Seal it, with a kiss," Mrs. Hammond laughed huskily, clearly amused by my fright.

"Mrs. Hammond, your husband is right upstairs," I said, glancing upstairs again, clearly worried.

"I know, and think how angry he'd be if he knew what you were doing to his wife." The laugh deepened.

"Mrs. Hammond," I cried, exasperated.

"Just one kiss, Jeffrey," Mrs. Hammond husked, stepping forward and melting against me.

Her body sagged on mine as if she was falling and I grabbed her. She laughed and threw her arms around my neck.

"Touch my tits while you kiss me."

Her mouth was on mine. Man, Janet had nothing on Mrs. Hammond when it came to mouth work. The shocking sexuality of her lips and tongue made me immediately wonder what her mouth would feel like on my cock. Way better than Janet's, I bet. The kiss was long, despite my fear of Mr. Hammond's presence, and when it finally ended I was surprised that my hands were on Mrs. Hammonds tits. It wasn't until she released my neck and grabbed my hands that I was even aware that I had been mauling her breasts.

"Fix my dress," Mrs. Hammond whispered, pushing my hands down to her hips and pulling them onto her ass.

"Mrs. Hammond..."

"Don't worry. He's in the shower."

I listened for the sound of water but couldn't hear anything except the ringing in my ears. Mrs. Hammond was rubbing my hands over her tight little butt.

"He never lets me go without panties," she purred, straining up to recapture my mouth.

We kissed again and I forgot about Mr. Hammond, forgot about being beaten to pulp or even killed. I forgot everything except the feel of Mrs. Hammond's snake-like tongue and the moist pull of her knawing lips, and the wonderful feel of her ass with its twin, lively, independent muscles. I snatched at the dress, scrunching it up until my hands held her bare flesh. Her tongue twisted wildly inside my mouth and her arms tightened around my neck. I squeezed her fucking gorgeous ass and pushed my fingers between her legs, tasting the moistness underneath. I couldn't believe this hot woman was twice my age and the mother of my best friend.

Mrs. Hammond pulled away and spoke hoarsely over our ragged breathing.

"Will you . . . do what I want."

"Yes," I hissed.

"Good," she said. After pausing for a deep breath, she added, "You won't regret it."

I noticed for the first time how wide Mrs. Hammond's mouth was, sensually surrounded by thick, pouting lips. She's have no trouble taking my cock. I moved closer but Mrs. Hammond pushed me away.

"You should go now."

I walked reluctantly to the door that I had so desperately wanted to run to only moments before.

"Jeffrey?"

I whirled around.

"I know about you and Billy and those two girls."

Shit. Was she mad? I couldn't tell.

"I think that's a good idea, getting Billy interested in a girl. Good work."

I started back toward her but she waved me off.

"I'll call you," Mrs. Hammond said as I passed through the door.

I turned to acknowledge that I had heard. She was standing in the kitchen doorway, hip cocked against the jamb, much like she had stood the last time I left her. Only this time, she was holding the hem of the skirt up, way up, so high that one hip and her pelvis was exposed, almost baring the pussy hidden between her tightly closed thighs except for a tuft of medium brown, curly hair. I stumbled backward out the door, my attempt to grab it swinging it shut.

"I'll call you," Mrs. Hammond laughed as I fell through the door.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

I was in quite a state when I got home, still sporting a raging boner over Mrs. Hammond. I couldn't get her outrageous parting stance out of my mind and the pouting smile blessing her wide lips as she spoke, "I'll call you."

Whatever the fuck it was she wanted me to do, I'd do it. Maybe she hated her son as much as he hated her. If she wanted me to kill him, I'd do it and then rush over to collect my prize with his blood still on my hands.

Here I was, still a virgin but within two days I had received my first blowjob, eaten my first pussy, fondled two sets of tits, and grabbed an incredible ass. One thing was certain. Though Janet Johnson was one of the hottest chicks at school, I wanted Mrs. Hammond more. She was so fucking hot. I had pictured her pretty face looking up at me all the way home, her mouth full of my cock. I knew for sure she fucked, and maybe not as much as she wanted to. Fuck, she was so sexy. I bet she wouldn't make me wear a rubber. No way.

She was a proper woman, not a spoiled brat like Janet. If you had asked me which one I'd prefer two days ago, the answer would have been in Janet's favor. But not now. Even if she would put out, I still wanted Mrs. Hammond more. Janet said my prick was bigger than Brent's so maybe it was bigger than Mr. Hammond's too. Maybe that's why she had gone so far. I could see her teasing me a little to enlist my aid but not as far as she had gone. She must really need it after feeling my dick. Billy was just an excuse.

In my room, I retrieved the dolls and set the one of Mrs. Hammond on the bed. I pulled out my cock and started pulling on it while I looked at the doll, pausing only to flick the doll's dress up over its ass. Man, I could hardly wait to do Mrs. Hammond's bidding as an excuse to get the next prize.

The sound of Mom's voice broke into my thoughts. I walked to the window, half crouching with my meat jutting out in front of me. Mom was sitting below me in a lounge chair, talking on her cell phone. Unfortunately, she wasn't wearing a bikini but the summer dress she had on had dropped from her knees and slid way up her thighs because her feet were tucked up tight to her bum. Above her like I was, I could look over her shoulder and down between her legs. I ran back and picked up the Mom doll.

I uttered the magic words, "Obla di, Obla da, On your knees, Ready to please," then pushed the doll's dress up over its hips. I waited.

Mom continued chatting for half a minute without reacting. I was about to repeat the chant when she suddenly dropped one hand and casually pulled her dress back and up onto her tummy, baring her panties. My hand recaptured my cock and I started stroking it as I listened to the half of Mom's conversation I could hear.

"No, I'm all alone. I don't know where he is."

"You're kidding? In your backyard?"

"No way. I couldn't. Not in the buff."

"I know it's private here but..."

"Vanessa, you aren't? Not with Billy home. Oh..." Mom sounded disappointed. "On Sunday."

Shit. Mom was talking to Mrs. Hammond. I strained my ears, trying to hear the other side of the conversation but I couldn't hear a word, just a faint buzz from the phone.

"That's crazy," Mom said. "Yes, I'm sure it will get his attention."

There was a longer pause while Mom listened.

"Yes, I know he's getting out of control but this is a little unconventional, to say the least."

"I know you've tried everything else, and yes, I know what Joan did but that was for something completely different."

Mom couldn't know I was helping Mrs. Hammond turn Billy around. No way. She would never put up with what Mrs. Hammond was doing if she knew. I know she had been behind me helping Billy years ago in school but that was because she thought it was a good thing for me to learn, helping others. But to help Billy in return for sexual favors from his mother, that was something else entirely. No, Mom couldn't know what Mrs. Hammond was up to, at least as far as it concerned me. Relief flooded through me. It was only then I realized I was gripping my cock painfully. I let it go.

Despite my relief, my head swam with questions. What was Mrs. Hammond doing with Billy that she was telling Mom about? It sounded like she doing something in front of Billy in the backyard—tanning in the nude, maybe? What was Gary's mom doing that was similar? It was Gary that had told Billy about the voodoo doll. Did Gary really think the doll was making his mother do things for him? Had Mrs. Hammond asked Gary's mom to get him to tell Billy about the doll so she could similarly improve Billy's behavior? Didn't she know Billy hated her and would try sticking pins in it rather than using it to get her to be nice to him? Did she think the ploy had failed because Billy was too juvenile and that was why she was working through me?

"Joan's playing a very dangerous game, Vanessa."

Despite Mom's remonstration her right hand strayed onto her panties and her fingers folded over her mound and dug between her legs. Several twists of her wrist back and forth eased Mom's legs apart.

"Yes, I know what Joan did with Gary, Vanessa, but that was different. Gary was afraid to leave the house. He needed confidence and Joan found a way to give it to him. Billy isn't afraid of anything. What if you can't control him? What if you can't turn him off?"

Mom's hand became more active. I was amazed at the way she carried on a conversation in an even tone while actively stimulating herself. She dug herself deeper into the lounge and slid her hips forward. Her fingers slipped underneath the waistband of her panties and dug deep, real deep, so I knew she had inserted her fingers into her cunt. Her head tipped back and she arched her back, losing herself to self stimulation. It had to have something to do with the doll, even though I wasn't touching it. I had never seen Mom be sexual until the past few days.

"What? Yes, I'm still here. You've already started . . . and how did it go? I see. Mom listened for a minute, then responded in a breathless voice, "It's harder than you thought? Me? No, never. Jeff would never look at me like that. Anyway, I couldn't do anything like that."

"Why not? Because Jeff doesn't get into trouble like Billy does."

"If he did? No, definitely not. There would be other ways to handle it."

"He what?"

The alarm in Mom's voice raised my hackles.

"When?"

Oh, shit. Mrs. Hammond was telling Mom some of the shit she knew Billy and I had got into. Probably about the graffiti. I don't think she knew about the car and the store.

"A car? You're kidding."

Mom twisted her head up toward my bedroom window and I jerked back, though she couldn't have seen me the little bit she had turned. She turned her head back down and pulled her hand out of her panties.

"A store?"

That fucking bitch. That's it. She could go fuck herself. I wasn't having anything to do with her.

"How do you know?"

There was a long pause in the conversation as Mom listened. Sometime during Mrs. Hammond's diatribe, I decided I would indeed fuck her if I was able to. My concern turned toward how I was going to pretend that I didn't know that she had spilled the goods to Mom. Maybe I'd fuck her real hard to teach her a lesson. Yeah, that's what I'd do. And once I got my cock in her mouth, without a rubber—I was sure she would want it bareback once she saw it—I'd let her have a full load in the face.

"I see," Mom said, quietly.

"Uh huh."

"Mmmmm hmmm."

"Yup. So, once you have him eating out of your hand, so to speak, how are you going to shut him down without reverting to his old behavior?"

"A girl? How can you be sure he'll find a girl just in time?"

"You're arranging it? How are you..."

"Okay, your secret."

Mrs. Hammond must be referring to the procurement of Wendy. Crap. How was I going to get back on track with Janet so I could get Billy hooked up with Wendy? Could I approach Wendy directly. No, probably not. Mom was talking. I'd missed something.

"...No, Vanessa. I simply couldn't."

A big pause.

"I don't know. I'll have to find another way to deal with Jeff."

Mom listened but I could see by the tilt of her head she wasn't buying whatever Mrs. Hammond was saying.

"No, I don't think that would work with Jeff. He wouldn't be interested. I'll have to find another way, that's all."

"No, I don't think you're being a bad mother. I think you're being an incredible mom. What you're doing is an amazing sacrifice for your son."

"I know I don't know the half of it and I don't think I want to know more."

"No, no. Call me anytime. I'm here for you."

"Okay. Goodbye."

Mom snapped her phone shut to end the call but held it in her hand, staring at it. A long moment passed. Mom's hand returned to her tummy. I thought she was going to push her dress down but her fingers stretched out onto her panty-covered mound. Another long moment passed before her fingers twitched once, then several more times. Her hips flexed, pushing her pelvis up. Once, twice, three times. Her fingers were moving constantly now, if slowly.

Her longest finger arched into a wide curl and the tip teased up and down where I knew her groove must be. Mom tortured herself like this for a couple of minutes before laying her hand flat on her tummy and slipping her fingers under the waistband of her panties again. It wasn't long before the panties stretched over the back of her hand as she plunged her fingers vigorously in and out of her cunt. She had to be really wet because, even from up on the second floor, I could hear her fingers squishing noisily, easily able to distinguish the in-stroke from the out-stroke by sound alone.

Mom suddenly pulled her knees high up toward her face while at the same time slouching down nearly flat except for her head, lifted as if to watch herself. The phone clattered to the patio as Mom yanked her panties down her thighs to her knees. Both hands disappeared behind herself, one moving slowly as if stroking something very delicate while the other began ramming in and out of a very wet sounding cunt.

I started wanking my cock furiously, matching the frenzied attack of Mom's right hand on her pussy. She started making sex sounds, similar to those I heard from the women in the fucking clips I watched on the web. I yanked harder.

"No, oh no," Mom protested to her invisible tormenter.

I ravaged my cock.

"No, don't," she mumbled, calling out a name too garbled to recognize.

OMG, the head almost came off my cock. What was she imagining herself doing, or having done to her, and for/by whom? Her mumbling turned into a series of soft moans as she began to frig herself more furiously, then burst out, "No, we can't, it's so wrong."

Mom's thighs quivered as she tossed her feet about violently. Her head strained forward toward her pussy where her hand was plugged deep into her vibrating cunt. I shot my load out the window and watched each great gob of cum arc through the air and splat silently on the grass behind the lounge Mom was lying on. I stepped slowly, reluctantly, backward as Mom lowered her feet, her widespread legs still shaking uncontrollably with one foot on each side of the lounge, her mound pulsing slowly as her orgasm subsided.

Fucking hell! My mind was exploding with explicit images, my own legs weakening under the onslaught. I stumbled backward, collapsing on the bed with my pants around my knees, trying to shut out the disgusting vision of my cock filling the hole between my mother's legs.

I was saved from Purgatory by the sound of my phone.

"Jeffrey?" Mrs. Hammond inquired.

Oh, shit.

"Yeah," I responded, as casually as I could.

"I want to see you again," she stated, in a husky voice. "We have some unfinished business to discuss."

"When," I asked, cutting to the quick as I remembered the movement of her ass in my hand, the twisting of her mouth on mine, and the heat of her groin pressing suggestively against my erection. Despite her deviousness, my anger was overridden by lust. I still wanted her, any time, any place.

"Right now," she rasped. "Hurry."

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The door opened before I could ring the bell. Mrs. Hammond pulled me quickly into the kitchen.

"Shhhhh," she whispered, drawing me toward her.

The sexy dress from this morning was gone. In its place, she wore a simple summer shift but she looked as sexy as ever. Mrs. Hammond noted my appreciation and she smiled approvingly as her arm curled around my neck. Her lips were on mine and the warmth of her pelvis was already making itself known to my perpetual erection. My query about Billy's whereabouts was smothered by Mrs. Hammond's mobile lips.

Still, I wondered where Billy was. The conversation between Mrs. Hammond and Mom implied she was displaying her body to her son. After I thought about it, that didn't square up because I knew Billy was working. On the way here, I concluded that he must have been let out of his shift. So, where was he? Why was his mother kissing me like this and pressing her pussy against my cock?

"Where's Billy?" I gasped, when she finally let me go.

"At work," Mrs. Hammond cried, pulling me in for another kiss.

"But, then, who was here?"

"What are you talking about?" she asked, pulling away and looking at me quizzically.

Oh shit. I was giving myself away.

"Nothing," I stammered. "I just thought someone was..."

"Mr. Hammond is in his study. That's why I shushed you," Mrs. Hammond giggled.

"Mr. Hammond..." I tried to pull away but Mrs. Hammond grabbed my arm and yanked my hand down between her legs.

"Do you want to touch it?" she asked.

I looked down to where Mrs. Hammond held my wrist, my hand dangling between her bare legs just below the hem of her short dress.

"But, Mr. Hammond..."

"Do you want to or not?" she asked, teasingly thrusting herself forward until my the hem of her dress covered my fingers.

My tongue swelled up and I couldn't say anything.

"Of course you do," Mrs. Hammond purred. "Go ahead, touch it."

I tried to turn my head to make sure Mr. Hammond wasn't behind me but I couldn't move it. I stared as my hand disappeared deeper under Mrs. Hammond's skirt. My fingers bumped into the inside of her right thigh and skidded upward until my knuckles scraped along the inside of her left. The tips of my fingers nudged her panties. I made an unintelligible sound as they found and plied a damp furrow. Mrs. Hammond gripped my arm hard, freezing further progress.

"Promise me," she hissed.

"What?"

"Promise me."

"I promise."

"Not yet. Promise me you'll give the doll back to Billy."

WTF? She knew about the doll?

"I don't know..."

"Cut the crap. Mrs. Robinson and I are friends," Mrs. Hammond said. "I know about the doll. I asked her to get Gary to tell Billy about it."

Of course. Gary used to play with Billy and I when we were kids before he became a super geek. By grade eleven, he was friendless, a real loner. Billy be-friended with him again because he wanted Gary to hack into the school computer to fix our grades. Unfortunately, Billy's patience wore thin and he became heavy-handed with Gary, fucking it up when he was just about to do it. Gary dropped out of school. Word was he was afraid being bullied. Nice job Billy.

"Gary's mother used a doll of herself to turn him around and now he's back to normal. If it can work for Gary, it can do the same for Billy, and you're not going to say a word about it, are you?"

Mrs. Hammond's hand relaxed for a moment and moved mine up and down, dragging my fingers across her warm panties.

I shook my head.

"Say it."

"I'm won't say a thing," I said.

"Good boy, Jeffrey."

Mrs. Hammond sounded sufficiently pleased that she allowed my fingers to graze back and forth across her panties.

"Do you like feeling my panties feel, Jeffrey?"

I nodded and was glad she didn't make me confirm it out loud because my throat was dry.

"Would you like to touch it for real, Jeffrey?" Mrs. Hammond moved closer, releasing my hand and curling her arm around my neck again.

"Yes," I managed to squeak out.

"Good," she purred, turning her head sideways and breathing into my ear. She pushed her panties hard onto my hand. "Give the doll back to Billy. Tell him you ran into Gary and he said it really works. Alright, Jeffrey?"

Mrs. Hammond humped herself on my hand and I turned it inward to cup her throbbing mound. I nodded again. Obviously, Gary's mom was using the doll somehow to get him back into the real world. Whether she was using it the same way that Mrs. Hammond had in mind, I had no idea but I wasn't about to ruin my chances for more of Mrs. Hammond by telling her that Billy was more interested in sticking pins in his doll than making nice.

"Do that, Jeffrey, and I'll let you take my panties off."

Mrs. Hammond turned my face toward hers and plunged her tongue into my mouth. I worked my hand over her pussy and accidentally slipped my thumb under the leg, plunging it into her wet slickness.

"Oh yes, Jeffrey. Just like that, but you have to convince Billy the doll will only work if he cleans up his act."

Mrs. Hammond didn't pull away, so I pushed my thumb completely inside her.

"No way," she said. "You have to do your job before you sample the goods."

She twisted and slipped off my thumb with ease. Lust turned to disappointment and then to fear when I heard a door opening behind me.

"Vanessa, do you know where..."

"Oh. Hello, Jeff. I...uh...haven't see you for a while."

Mr. Hammond was clearly surprised to see me and it looked like my presence was awkward for him. I surmised that Mrs. Hammond had made lots of derogatory comments about me for the past few years, changing his opinion of me, and that seeing me in the house was a surprise even though he probably knew Billy still hung out with me. He couldn't have felt more uncomfortable than me, standing in front of him with a thumb freshly slick from his wife's cunt.

"Jeff was looking for Billy. He should be home from work soon," Mrs. Hammond explained my presence. She smiled at her husband, signaling her approval. He nodded and reached out to shake my hand.

"Good to see you again, Jeff, " he said. "Don't be a stranger."

I took his hand in mine and folded my slick thumb around his.

"I won't, Mr. Hammond," I replied, knowing it was one promise I would definitely keep.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

I had to admit to Billy that the date wasn't going to happen.

"You dumbfuck," Billy swore. "I could have gotten into her pants. I mean, right in the slippery-dippery, and you had to get into a fight with Janet."

Billy slugged me in the shoulder. It hurt.

"Fuck off," I said, flinching.


"I should fucking lay a good one on you." Billy hit me again.

"Fuck them," I retorted, wincing. "We don't need them."

"Bullshit. I was about to get laid," Billy yelled.

"You were about to get zip," I shouted back.

"Bull fucking shit!" Billy exclaimed, getting really agitated. "I was about to get fucked."

"You were about to get sweet fuck all, just like me."

"Bullshit!"

"They don't fuck," I yelled.

"What?"

"They don't fuck. Neither of them. Janet told me. A little fingering and a handjob, maybe a blowjob, but that's it."

"Bullshit. Wendy was about to drop her pants."

"Bullshit," I responded, derisively.

"I was about to..."

"No, Billy. You were going to get sweet fuck all."

Billy started to speak and I shook my head. His argument sputtered to a stop.

"So what have you been getting all week, then?" he asked. "You've been getting something. I can see it in your face."

"Nothing."

"Bullshit!"

"Okay. Can you keep a secret?"

"WTF?"

"Okay, okay. But you can't breathe a word about this. I mean it."

"Done. Spill it. Who you been doing?"

"No one."

"Bullshit. I..."

"Not yet," I cut Billy off. "Listen, you remember how Gary said those dolls really work?"

"The dolls? Who gives a fuck about the dolls. What's that got to do with..."

"Well, they do."

"What?"

"They work, but they're not the sticking-pins-in kind of dolls. They only work if you're nice to them."

"Nice to them?" Billy started laughing. "What the fuck are you talking about, some kind of lovey-dovey dolls?"

"Listen," I spoke vehemently. "I found out Gary Robinson's been getting his mom to do stuff."

"Do stuff? What do you mean, do stuff?"

"I mean..." my mind scrambled for something to say. "I mean, he's been getting her to be nice to him and letting him do stuff with her."

"What do you mean, 'do stuff'?"

"You know. She lets him fuck around with her. She can't help it. It's the doll. And she ain't bad, Gary's old lady," I added.

"You mean..." Comprehension dawned in Billy's eyes. "Holy fuck. I couldn't do anything like that with my old lady," his face screwed up in disgust.

"You don't have to," I broke in, "but you can make her be nice to you if you're nice to the doll."

"How do you know. What did Gary tell..."

"Nothing," I interrupted. "I tried it myself."

"You what?"

"I tried it myself. I was nice to the doll, and then Mom was nice to me."

"You were nice to the doll?" Billy guffawed. "You were nice to the doll?" Billy threw himself around in a circle, crouching, then doubling up with laughter. "Nice to the doll," he cried, hysterically.

I couldn't help but laugh along with him.

"And what did she do for you?"

I stopped laughing. "Nothing. I just stroked it a bit and Mom was nice to me. I found out by accident."

"What do you mean, she was nice to you?"

"I'm not talking about what my mom did."

"Well, your old lady is nice anyway so that doesn't prove a thing. Anyway, I'm not doing anything nice for my old lady, or to no look-alike doll."

I played my trump card.

"I mean my mom was more than nice, but no sweat, I'll take the doll back."

"I thought you already did?"

"Nope. Mine was working, so I thought..."

"Give it to me."

"I thought you didn't want to be nice to her."

"I don't," Billy insisted. "But I don't want anyone else doing anything nice to her either."

I cringed. Did he suspect?

"Fifty bucks," I said.

"Fuck off. Just give it to me."

"Fifty bucks," I insisted.

"No way."

"A hundred by Monday."

"Okay, fifty. Where is it?"

"At home. I'll give it to you tomorrow."

"Tonight."

"Tomorrow."

"Tonight!" Billy grabbed my arm.

"What does it matter. You said you ain't going to use it."

"I ain't, I'm just making sure no one else can, dumbfuck."

"Fine. Do what you want."

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

I gave the doll to Billy and he left. I was in. Fuck, my cock was so hard just thinking about it, picturing her luscious little butt bending over the end of the couch, and hammering into it. Fuck, I'd have to grab her hair to keep her head still, I'd fuck her so hard. Once she felt my meat, instead of what her limp-dick husband had to offer, she'd never play games again—she'd be begging for it.

So the doll shit was bullshit. Gary's mom had started it, getting one from that old black bitch to help her aches and pains and then, somehow, to get Gary to come out of his shell. She must have told Mrs. Robinson, maybe even suggested she try it to solve her problems with Billy, and Mom knew about it.

Shit. Mom knew about my hijinks with Billy too. I wondered what she was going to do? She had told Billy's mom that she'd have to handle me a different way because she thought I wouldn't be interested in her. Wait a minute. Did that mean she'd actually do what Gary's mom was doing and Billy's mom was planning to do? My own mother?

No, it couldn't, she didn't even know Billy had got a doll of her made too. That sucked. Billy had got one made of Mom on his own and I guess that old black vulture hadn't said anything. It was just as well. Obviously, from the one-sided conversation I'd just overheard, Mom wasn't into using her body to tease me into better behavior, even after hearing how bad I was.

Or, was she?

I would love to play along and pretend the doll worked. Actually, I had to admit, there was something about the doll. As I already noted, Mom had never been so sexual, at least not when I was around. What other explanation was there for that bump on Mom's head, the scene on the yoga mat in the living room, and the episode out in the yard? Could all three be coincidences?

Evidently so. I had heard Mom tell Mrs. Hammond she definitely wasn't into even the pretense of entertaining a sexual relation with her son. Too bad, because Mom had a nice body. It was one thing to watch her get herself off and jack off over it, but it was quite another to think about actually doing something with her. When I thought about it, she looked hotter than Mrs. Hammond. I wondered if she really was, then put it out of my mind. It wasn't right to think about that.

I picked up the doll but had to find a hiding place for it where Mom wouldn't find it. While I was holding it, I heard Mom calling to Dad in his studio and him answering. They talked back and forth, neither one bothering to get closer to hear the other, so their voices remained loud enough for me to hear upstairs in my room with the door closed.

Mom even had a nice voice. It was compatible with her good looks and hot body. Hot body? There it was again. How long had I been thinking about Mom that way? Stupid. I looked at the doll. My thumb was rubbing the front of its lower legs. While I watched, my finger slid under its dress and up the back of its thighs. A moment later, my thumb did the same up the front of its skirt. Upon hearing Mom's voice again, I spread the doll's legs and pressed my thumb into the juncture where they joined. As I rubbed the doll there, my finger scratched its panties down from behind until they were around the doll's knees. I used my other hand to pull the tiny panties off and threw them away, then slipped my hand inside my sweatpants to grasp my cock.

What if the doll really did work? What if those times weren't coincidences? I mean, how could they be, all three of them? What if the doll worked in general rather than specifically, like if I did things to make the doll get hot and it influenced Mom's behavior? That thought made me remember how the doll got always got warm when I played with it, and that wasn't my imagination. So, what if Mom got horny when I worked the doll up and she just had to pleasure herself? What if I got the doll hot just before she reproached me for the stuff she'd heard that Billy and I had done? I knew a confrontation was coming. Maybe if I got the doll hot every time we were alone in the house, she'd be horny when she talked to me about it and she might to what Gary's and Billy's moms were doing.

I brought the doll closer and pushed its dress up to its neck, revealing tiny, anatomically correct tits which looked surprisingly real. I brought the doll up to my mouth and licked its legs, then pushed the tip of my tongue between its thighs and flicked at its fake cunt. Oh yeah, that part was realistic too. For the next ten minutes, I licked and caressed the doll, at times feeling stupid but persevering anyway. It was worth a try.

I pushed the doll under my mattress and left my room, approaching the top of the stairs quietly. Dad was speaking to Mom.

"Whatever," she answered, not bothering to look up from the magazine she was reading.

Mom was lying on the couch, broadside to me. She was wearing a stretchy exercise type top and a knee-length skirt which had slid down from her bent up knees upon which the magazine rested. From the side, I could see most of her legs, even the underside of her thighs. I knew right then that I wanted her, more than Janet, and more than Mrs. Hammond. She looked so sexy with her perfectly proportioned, well-looked-after body and tawny, shoulder-length hair. Oh yes. I desired this woman and I didn't need my stiffening cock to tell me so.

I wanted to run my fingers up and down the backs of those soft, sexy thighs. As the thought passed through my mind, Mom dropped her right hand to the side of her leg and lazily scratched her fingers up and down the length of her thigh, from bum to knee. Hard, Jesus, I was already hard.

Mom didn't look up or say anything when I sat down on the end of the couch but she pulled her feet up a little to make room for me. I looked straight ahead for a minute or so but gradually looked her way. I didn't move my head. At first, I merely glanced but eventually turned slightly, just enough to look at her pressed together knees, whereupon I realized the magazine blocked Mom's view of me. I lowered my eyes, dropping below Mom's tightly fitted knees until I could look between the inverted 'V' of her calves.

Ah, God in Heaven, the back of Mom's gorgeous thighs and between them, her panties. Thank God Mom couldn't see me because I had inadvertently lowered my head for a better view. I was fascinated by the way Mom's panties swept up and over a puffy part in front of her legs. Her mound. Saliva swirled around my tongue and almost drooled out the corner of my mouth. I stared hard, looking for stray hairs peeking out, then sought evidence of the groove between her pussy lips.

"Jeff."

I jerked my head up.

"Yes?"

"I want to talk to you about something."

Here it comes. My chest constricted and I remained silent.

"Did you hear me?"

"Yes."

"I've heard that you've been getting into a little trouble lately."

Mom paused for effect, waiting for me to say something but I didn't speak. My heart was beating too fast anyway. Mom hadn't lowered the magazine, so I let my head droop down to sneak another peak at her puffy panties. What if the doll thing actually worked? Excitement coursed through me.

"I think we should nip this in the bud, before it gets out of hand."

"Yeah?" I replied.

Dad called out. Mom yelled back, "I'm busy now."

"Why doesn't he come in here to speak to you?" I asked.

"He wanted me to help him set up some lighting but I'm busy."

"I can see that," I said.

"Well, he wouldn't come in here to put lotion on my rash, so he can do his own damn lighting."

"You've got a rash?"

"Yes."

"Where?"

"On my legs."

"Oh."

"About the trouble you've been..."

"Is it itchy?"

"The rash? Yes."

"Do you want me to put the lotion on?"

"No." Pause. "Well, I suppose you could. Would you mind?"

"I just asked you if you wanted me to."

"Sure, that would be nice."

"Where is it?"

"On the back of my legs."

"I mean...where's the lotion?"

"Oh. Here."

Mom reached behind her head and passed me a squeeze bottle of lotion that had been on the end table. She passed it to me and as I opened it, I realized that she hadn't once looked at me. Mom had kept her face below the top edge of the magazine. I squeezed a bit of lotion onto my fingers. It smelled liked medical stuff. Fleeting disappointment passed through me as it dawned on me that Mom really did have a rash.

"Where?"

"Here," Mom wiggled her right foot. "Above my ankle."

I pressed my fingers around Mom's ankle and rubbed up her legs a few inches, then rubbed down and around her Achilles tendon. I spread the lotion slowly and gently, surprised by how enjoyable it was to touch my mother this way, something I couldn't remember ever doing. It wasn't completely sexual, despite the boner between my own legs, it was also just nice. I rubbed and rubbed, working the lotion in well.

"Higher," Mom said.

"What?"

"Higher. The rash goes right up to my knee."

"Oh."

I put more lotion on my fingers and pressed them against the meaty part of Mom's calf. I didn't see any evidence of a rash there but I hadn't really seen any by her ankle either. Mom was quiet while I moved my fingers lightly up and down her leg, gradually pressing more firmly and kneading her calf muscles.

"Mmmmmmm," Mom murmured.

I moved my fingers beyond the muscle into the hollow under Mom's knee and tickled some lotion around the soft, pulpy skin there. It was strangely exciting because I was pushing into a haven, an area more sacrosanct than the back of a leg. I loved the softness and the forbidden feel of it. It crossed my mind that Mom didn't need help to put lotion on the back of her legs, from Dad or me, and that made the whole thing feel slightly wrong, and therefore more exciting.

"Do the other leg, Jeff. It's itchy too."

Obediently, I put some lotion on the fingers of my other hand and applied it to the back of Mom's other calf. As I worked it up and down that leg, Mom's knees parted a bit more so I put more sideways pressure on her legs to move them farther apart. Additional light and a wider view revealed what I'd been seeking earlier: evidence of Mom's pussy lips, a shallow groove running part way up the center of her panties. My cock ached.

I replenished my fingers with a generous amount of lotion and, pressing it against the meaty part of Mom's left calf, quickly pushed it up into the hollow of that knee. I worked it around the soft tissue in gentle circles, then slowly converted the swirling motion of my fingers to pushes in and out. This was crazy! It was like I was finger-fucking the back of Mom's knee. I had put so much lotion on, it almost felt like Janet's pussy and even made a faint squishing sound. Mom hadn't made a sound, not a single peep, but I sensed the squishy sound of the lotion was making her uncomfortable.

"Whoa, too much lotion," I whispered and moved my hand over to her upper leg and wiped it down the underside of her thigh. Mom's muscles tensed in surprise, as did my whole body. What the fuck was I doing? I was suddenly afraid I had gone too far.

And, I was right. Mom's knees locked together.

"Jeff, I don't have a rash there."

"Oh, uh...I know, I mean, I didn't think so, I was just...I just got too much lotion on my hand and I was wiping it off," I offered up my lame excuse.

Though Mom couldn't see it, I was blushing furiously, but I'm sure she probably knew that from the faltering sound of my voice.

"I see. Well, thanks for putting it on. That was very helpfu,." Mom said while smoothing her skirt down to her knees.

"No problem. Anytime, Mom," I gushed, immediately worried I sounded too eager and thus making my lecherous intentions obvious.

Mom started to reply but Dad startled me by walking into the room. I hadn't heard him coming.

"Can you not help me for a few minutes?" he demanded testily.

Mom ignored the restrained aggression in his voice, replying simply, "Jeff can help you."

"But he doesn't know lighting like you do," Dad replied, looking at me and adding, "no offense, Jeff."

I shook my head to acknowledge his skepticism was well-placed but Mom repeated herself, "Jeff can help you."

"Fine," Dad turned and stomped away.

I got up and followed my father, both reluctant and relieved to leave Mom. I pissed around for almost an hour helping Dad set up the lighting for his planned shoot. Evidently, he had promised to do a session for the young wife of a new couple that had recently moved into our community. I sat in various poses, sitting and reclining, that Dad planned to shoot while he adjusted the lights, took shots, and made notes. Between thoughts about what had just happened with Mom on the couch, I wondered why he wasn't taking his new 'model' into the studio at the office instead of bringing her here and what Mom thought about it. Maybe that's why she didn't feel like helping him?

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

"What else did Gary tell you?" Billy asked.

"Nothing," I whispered. I had just gone to bed when he called and had already told him what I knew.

"Are you sure?" Before I could answer, he asked, "What did you do to the doll to get your old lady to be nice?"

"Yeah, I'm sure," I answered his first question. "All I did was treat the doll nice and Mom was nice to me."

"What do you mean, 'treat the doll nice'?"

"Just touch it real nice. You know, rub it up and stuff."

"Didn't you feel stupid doing that?"

"Yes," I answered honestly, "but the payoff is worth it."

"Yeah? What did your mom do to be 'nice'?"

"I told you, that's not your concern."

"Come on," Billy pleaded. "My old lady said she wants to talk to me after Dad goes to bed. She's going to dump on me for sure. I need to do something to this fucking doll so she lightens up. What were those words, I mean, how did you say them? I forgot."

"Don't worry about that mumbo jumbo," I said. "It doesn't matter. It's the way you treat the doll that matters."

"Are you sure?"

"Look Billy, if you don't want her to dump a load of crap on you, be nice to the doll, real nice, for at least twenty minutes, no, half an hour, before you see her. Touch it as if it's a real chick."

"Fuck, I don't know if I can do that. It looks a lot like her."

"If you don't want to catch it, you'll do it. And no fuck-ups. Don't pinch it or anything."

"Okay, okay. I'll do it. This better work or you're in for it."

"Goodnight Billy."

Click.

I turned over and closed my eyes. Pictures of Mom and the underside of her thighs filled my head.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

"Jeff?"

"What? What the fuck time is it?"

"I don't know, midnight, maybe later." Billy was breathing hard like he was really excited.

"What the fuck do you want?"

"You won't believe it. You just won't believe it," he cried, trying to keep his voice down but failing. I had to hold the phone away from my ear.

"Believe what?"

"My old lady," he whispered intensely. "When Dad went to bed, she reminded me she wanted to talk to me and told me to get changed into my pajamas and come back downstairs. Pajamas!" Billy exclaimed. "When was the last time I wore pajamas? So I put on some of the ones she always buys me for Christmas, they're like brand new, and I goes back downstairs. Well! She comes down and she's changed for bed, too. You should have seen what she was wearing. She had on this long silky robe and, I'm telling you, there wasn't much underneath it, just some sexy pajamas or something. I mean, shit, I could see her tits bouncing around, her nipples and everything. Christ, I thought she was flat but in this thing, shit, they stuck right out. The old bitch looked pretty good."

Billy stopped to breathe.

"So what happened?" I asked. Did she give you shit?"

"No, that's the thing. It worked. That thing with the doll must have worked. I rubbed the hell out of it and it paid off, big time. I owe you man, I really owe you."

Intrigued, I sat up in bed.

"What happened?" I repeated.

"No way," Billy laughed. "That's none of your concern."

"Okay, whatever. See ya," I said, but instead of closing the phone I held it open and waited.

"Wait! I was only kidding,"

I knew he couldn't pass up an opportunity to brag. I waited.

"You still there?"

"Yup."

"So Mom—that was startling; I couldn't remember the last time Billy called his old lady Mom—turns the lamp by the couch down to its lowest setting and sits down. Then she turns off the TV and pats the seat beside her, telling me to sit there. So I did."

Billy took a deep breath.

"So I'm sitting there, trying not to look at the way her tits are hanging out under that flimsy robe, so I end up staring at her legs. Well, they look pretty good too. I mean, why is she dressed like that? So I realize I'm gawking at her legs and I look up at her but she adjusts her robe so it gets parted way to the side and then I can see this nightie that's all that's covering her tits, I mean half of them anyway, I can see the right one bare from the side."

"Well, shit. You try sitting beside a chick wearing something you can almost see through and its cut real low like that in the front. I mean, you're going to look, right? So, she catches me looking and I get real uncomfortable and look away and I even start to get up but she takes my hand so I can't go and starts talking about how I haven't been behaving lately and all that shit."

"I'm waiting for her to get it over with and was about to tell her to fuck off when she says she'd like us to start over and try a different approach. I'm thinking, yah right, but she pulls my hand toward her and holds it in both of hers as if she really doesn't want me to go. That's fine, but the thing is, she held my hand right on top of her lap, I mean, right by her pussy!"

"Wow," I said.

"At first, I couldn't move, thinking she doesn't know what she's doing and if I look she'll know and get pissed off at me as if it's my fault, but in the end I couldn't help looking. Sure enough, she's holding my hand right on top of her panties. Her robe is parted all the way down now, I mean, it's wide open. There's my hand on her panties and she's looking at me earnestly, asking me if I agree we should start on another foot."

"So I nod my head and say 'yes' but I'm looking down at her tits because the robe has come apart and there's just this really low cut, loose nightgown covering them so they're almost hanging out except for her nipples and I can see them through the material anyway."

"Mom says, 'that's good, Billy, I'm glad you're willing to work with me' and she leans toward me and rests her head on my shoulder and, get this, pushes my hand down right between her legs!"

"I couldn't fucking believe it! My cock fills my pajamas and I'm thinking, with her head on my arm, that she can't help but see it sticking up but all I do is lean over to look around her head so I can see my hand jammed in between her legs and her tits, pretty much bare now, hanging out."

"She says, 'If we work together, Billy, I know you can stop doing bad things' and I say 'Yeah yeah, Mom, I know we can' and she says 'I knew you'd say that' and hugs my arm real hard and that jams my hand right into her pussy."

"You're kidding?" I said, awed.

"No, for real. She even like squeezed her legs on it and she started jiggling and shaking so I thought she was crying but it felt real good on my hand so I didn't say anything. Anyway, after a minute, Mom looked up at me and said we should seal our new pact with a kiss. So I lean down to kiss her on the cheek and she puts her mouth right on mine. I was stunned! She pulls away and says she used to kiss me all the time when I was little because I was so cute and then she kissed me on the mouth again. When that's done, she says we should start kissing all the time to celebrate our new pact and I say, 'well yah' and she says, 'but only if you keep being a good boy'. Then she asks me, 'Are you going to be a good boy, Billy?' and I say 'For sure' and that's when she kissed me and even pushed her tongue into my mouth a bit."

Billy paused for breath again.

"It was incredible. By the time we had finished, we were leaning back against the couch and she was kind of half-turned onto me. I forgot myself and looked right at her tits hanging in front of me and she just smiled. She didn't try to cover them up or anything. Then she looked down at my pants where my fucking cock was sticking up hard as a rock and she said, 'I guess not all of you thinks I'm an old bitch'. I protested, saying I didn't think that and she laughed and reminded me that we're starting over, all of that's behind us now, and I should tell the truth. So I nod, kind of eagerly, and that's when she did it."

"What, what did she do."

"She touched it."

"She what?"

"She scraped her hand all along my cock, from my balls right up to the tip, and then she closed her fingers around it. I almost came in my pants. Mom says, 'You be a good boy this week, Billy, so we can have another chat after Dad's gone to bed.'"

"Holy fuck," I cried.

"Yeah, you ain't kidding. I mean, wow! Man, I'm going to be Mr. Goody-Goody. I ain't doing anything to piss her off. No way, not a thing."

"I guess not," I said, feeling a bit jealous.

Billy sensed the tone in my voice.

"Hey, your old lady, I mean, your mom, still isn't being nice to you?"

"Nope, not like that."

"Maybe you didn't prep the doll properly," Billy said, taking on the mantle of expert now that he had gotten more out of his mom than I had from mine.

"Maybe not," I agreed.

"You gots to touch it real nice, for a long time," he said.

"Yeah, I know. Look, I gotta go."

"I can't wait until next week," Billy said.

I snapped the phone shut.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

"You remember Susan, don't you?" Dad asked Mom, presenting the young woman that had just moved in down the street.

"Yes, how are you? I'm Sandra."

"Yes, I know. It's so nice of you, and you too," the attractive young woman turned to Dad, "to do this for Greg and I."

"Oh, is Greg coming too?" Mom asked, looking past Susan to the door that Dad had just closed.

"Oh no," Susan replied, "He's watching the baby. We really appreciate the help. With the new house and all, we just couldn't afford to get an updated set of headshots and everything. I really need to get back to work. We can handle the mortgage but there are so many extra costs around buying a house that we didn't expect."

She didn't look like she'd just had a kid and I could see in Mom's eyes that she had categorized her as a 'CM', or Cesarean Mom, as Mom's friends called the new generation of mothers.

"Well, we better get started." Dad ushered the pretty young woman down the hall to the studio. I returned to the couch and sat down, as did Mom. As we settled in, the deadbolt on the studio door clicked shut. I looked at Mom but she acted like she hadn't heard, though I knew she must have.

We watched TV for a while, or at least, I did. Mom leafed through a magazine with distinct disinterest. During the commercials she adjusted her position, tucking her feet back onto the couch, and leaned on the armrest to read her magazine. A few minutes later, we heard giggling in the studio. Mom didn't look but her eye's flickered so I turned up the volume.

"Not so loud," Mom said. I turned it back down.

Looking at Mom's feet, I asked, "Do you still have a rash?"

Mom looked down at her feet. Like me, she probably couldn't see any evidence of a rash.

"Yes," she replied.

"Do you want me to put some lotion on it for you?"

Mom glanced toward the studio. "Sure," she said. "That would be nice. I'll get the lotion."

Mom went upstairs and I concentrated on taming my erection, with little success. I thought about slipping up to my room to work up the doll before we got started but it was too late, Mom was coming downstairs, lotion in hand. She was wearing the same outfit—dark brown sweater and matching, light brown skirt. The bounce of her breasts ruined my efforts to control my genitals.

Mom plopped down on the couch beside me and leaned over onto her side. I had expected her to lie on her back and raise her knees up like the last time so I was a little uncomfortable squeezing the lotion on my hand and putting it on the back of her ankle when she was looking right at me.

Mom stretched her left foot out so I could reach it better and I began working the lotion into her calf. I was relieved when she turned her attention to the TV. Every once in a while, we heard Susan giggle in the studio. When I reached Mom's knee, she drew her leg up and I started on the other leg. This one was weighted down by the other so Mom didn't try to straighten it out and I leaned toward her to reach better.

I liked her legs held together this way. When I reached her knee again, I noticed that it presented as enticing a soft hollow as it had the night before. I worked the lotion gently around that soft tissue but after a while, it was clear I was finished. Reluctantly, I pulled my hand away just as a louder, strangely nervous-sounding giggle drifted up the hallway. Mom grabbed my hand and pulled it onto her hip. She closed her eyes.

"Were you a good boy today, Jeff?"

"A good boy?" I laughed but Mom didn't.

"I mean, did you stay out of trouble?"

"Yeah, I guess so."

"Good."

Mom released my hand and it slid down a couple of inches onto the edge of her buttock. I wouldn't have minded keeping it there but knew it was inappropriate so I let it accelerate under its own weight until it fell with a dull thump onto the couch. Mom's hand withdrew higher up her side. I guess was done helping Mom with her rash, which was a let-down from the night before, the only consolation being that Mom's skirt had drawn up onto her hip when she withdrew her hand. I could now see the entire expanse of the underside of her thighs.

"You're not going to get in any more trouble, are you Jeff?"

I was surprised when Mom spoke because she looked like she was sleeping. Of course, I knew she couldn't be but it looked that way.

"No Mom. I'm done with that." Shit, what was I saying? I was leaving her no incentive to cure me of my ills like Billy's mom was obviously so intent to do for him. Not that I had any illusions that Mom would do anything like Billy's mom was doing. She had said as much to her on the phone. But still, to just give any opportunity away was silly. "At least, I'm going to try. I still get urges," I said.

"That's good," Mom said. She reached for my hand. I held hers in my oily paw but after a minute she pulled away. "Your hand's all slippery," she said, wiping it against her skirt.

I was amazed that Mom would wipe her hand on her clothes. How many times had she told me to use a napkin or go wash my hands and here she was wiping it on her skirt? The action had pulled the skirt way up onto Mom's hip, substantially baring her behind. I could now see her panties emerging from between her legs and widening out to cover her bottom but not much of it since they were the new style of panties. Effectively, I was looking at Mom's almost bare ass!

"Jeff?" Mom mumbled as if she had suddenly become very tired and was fighting a failing battle with sleep.

"Yeah?"

"That rash is still bothering me."

"I'll fix it for you," I answered. Mom nodded and made herself more comfortable, settling in as if to sleep, tucking her right hand under her face and pulling the cushion partly over her head to shield her eyes from the light.

I put some lotion on my hand, placed it on the back of Mom's calf, and started rubbing it there though I knew that part was already done because I wasn't quite ready to make the leap to rubbing the underside of her sexy thighs. It took me a couple of minutes to make the first tentative venture there but when she didn't flinch I quickly adapted to the new territory. Soon, I was stroking confidently from her knees to within an inch or so of her panties. It was a long time, however, before I had the courage to move onto the inside of her leg. I was in ecstasy when even that didn't produce a protest.

I pushed Mom's left thigh off the right to make it easier to move along the inside of her legs. This tilted her bum toward me. After receiving no complaint about further exposing her back end, I put way too much lotion on my fingers again.

"Oh shit, too much lotion again."

Tentatively, I rubbed some of the excess lotion onto the back of Mom's panties, high up, near the waistband. When Mom didn't object, I rubbed my finger lower, scraping my finger clean. A few minutes later, I put too much lotion on again.

"Oh shit, too much. Damn."

This time, I applied the excess lotion lower on Mom's panties, ready to jerk my hand back at the first sign of trouble, but Mom didn't react so I spread it right down under her bum to where her pussy began to swell into being. There was still no sign of movement, not even a twitch. I twisted my finger as if trying to rub it clean, right in the middle of her dampish, puffy pussy. I was scared as hell but kept rubbing and twisting my finger.

I was afraid to speak but felt the need to justify myself, so I whispered, "I'm sure trying hard to turn over a new leaf, Mom."

Idiot! I thought, but Mom didn't respond. I had leaned forward so I could see her face under the pillow and her eyes hadn't even fluttered. I joined several fingers together and pressed them into Mom's puffy lips, thinking a thicker presence would make her horny.

There was a thumping sound from the studio followed by intense whispering. Someone fiddled with the deadbolt on the studio door. Panicked, I quickly withdrew my hand and yanked Mom's skirt down, then bolted upstairs. Running toward my room, I suddenly stopped and retreated down the hallway to listen near the top of the stairs.

"Finished already?" Mom said.

"Yes," Dad replied. "Susan is quite photogenic. The camera likes her."

"Isn't that nice," Mom said. I'm sure Dad recognized the sarcasm in her voice but it seemed lost on Susan.

"Thank you so much for doing this, and I hope it wasn't an intrusion, Sandra."

"Not at all," Mom replied in the same tone. "You can borrow my husband anytime."

The door opened and closed. Dad said, "That was rude."

"Really?" Mom replied. "You couldn't wait until I was out to get your jollies photographing that bit of fluff?"

"She's a nice girl. I was just trying to help out."

"Sure."

"Whatever," Dad said. "Where's Jeff?"

"I don't know. He went upstairs just after you took your new project into the studio."

"Oh. I'm going to bed. You coming?"

"No. think I'll watch a movie."

"I thought you wanted to talk about Jeff?"

"I'll handle it myself."

"Don't get mad about Susan. I was just helping out because they're neighbors. You know that."

Mom sighed. "I know. I just think your approach is wrong. Punishment can have adverse effects down the line."

"You have a better idea? You think he'll change just by talking to him?"

"I'd appreciate it if you'd let me handle it my way."

"Well, the first thing is to get him away from that Billy kid."

"Let me handle it."

"Fine."

Dad's heavy steps climbed the stairs and I retreated to my room.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

So Dad was ready to give me what for and Mom was stepping in to protect me. I wondered if she was having second thoughts about the approach taken by Billy's and Gary's moms. Could I be that lucky?

I pulled the doll out of the drawer and sat on my bed. Looking at it reminded me of Mom so I laid it on its side on the table and fished my cock out of my shorts. Fuck, she had looked awesome lying on her side, one leg atop the other with its knee higher and pressed onto the cushion, thereby emphasizing the triangle of her panties which seemed to whisper, 'Come hither'.

I pulled harder on my dick. What if the doll really worked? Billy's mom was obviously doing what she was doing on purpose, and so had Gary's mom, but what about Mom? In the past few days she had engaged in overtly sexual acts. She didn't know I was watching, but then again, I had never seen her do anything like it before. Not, in fact, until I got the doll and started touching it. Was the doll's mere presence affecting her?

I released my cock and took the doll in hand. After removing its clothing, I started rubbing it as softly as I could and even brought its open legs up and slid my tongue between them. I found the delicate paint brush and dragged it lightly all over the doll's body, concentrating on the breasts and especially between its legs. I twirled and twirled the brush against the doll's pussy. Satisfied, I went back downstairs.

Mom was sitting on the couch watching TV. It was a good thing the lights were out because I was sporting a huge erection which my shorts did little to camouflage. Pausing in the kitchen doorway, I asked Mom if she wanted anything. She shook her head, not even looking at me.

"Are you sure?" I asked again. "I'm getting a coke."

Mom glanced at me and I immediately realized I had made a mistake because the light in the kitchen outlined my shape in the doorway perfectly. Mom's eyes lowered briefly, then flicked away.

"No thanks."

I looked down at the tent in my shorts. Shit!

I fetched a coke, then poured it into a glass and put ice in it, all to kill time as I wished my erection into submission with partial success. Before entering the living room, I turned the kitchen light off and walked toward the couch holding the glass down low to cover myself. I sat next to Mom.

"What are you watching?"

"Something with Meg Ryan in it," she answered. "In the Cut, I think."

My cock lurched. I had watched the movie several times, having a bit of a thing for Meg.

"It's not her usual fluffy thing," Mom added, shifting her hips toward me on the couch, inadvertently pushing her rump against me.

I started to reply but Mom shushed me.

"Shhhhh."

I sat back and watched the movie, torn between hot images of Meg and the soft, sexy plumpness of Mom's bottom heating up my thigh. I sipped at my coke, waiting for a commercial so I could drop a few pearls to imply that I needed special encouragement from Mom to maintain my good behavior. However, no commercial came. Mom was watching one of the movie channels. Shit! By the time the movie ended all my preparations of the doll would be worn off.

I let a few minutes go by. Desperate, and not thinking, I rested my elbow on Mom's hip. Realizing that I had made contact and Mom hadn't taken any notice, I started drumming my fingers on her thigh. Quickly, Mom's hand covered mine and stilled my obnoxious fingers. A few seconds later, it withdrew. I guess it was okay for my hand to be there, but finger drumming wasn't welcome.

I moved my fingers again but this time I moved them sideways, slowly, rubbing instead of thumping. Mom's hand stayed away. Encouraged, I continued the gentle caress and even forgot I was doing it, becoming absorbed in a particularly good Meg scene, until I realized my finger was touching Mom's bare skin. I glanced down to see that my ministrations had worked Mom's skirt higher up her leg. My mind re-focused.

Gradually, over the next fifteen minutes, I flexed my wrist and moved my elbow enough to tug Mom's skirt up so that my entire hand was lying on her bare thigh. It was mind blowing how erotic it felt to sneakily pull Mom's skirt up just a few inches, exposing no more leg than I had seen a hundred times before. Nevertheless, it made me rock hard and I became worried that Mom might look my way and see my swollen shorts so I finished my coke to free up a hand to at least partly cover my errant steed.

"Can you put this on the table for me," I asked, holding the empty glass in front of Mom. Her only answer was to look around the glass at the TV. Shrugging, I leaned across Mom and set the glass down myself. As I leaned over, my hips turned toward Mom and the tent in my shorts pressed against the back of her bottom. It was so warm and soft and inviting, it paralyzed me.

"Jeff, move back. Give me some room," Mom snapped.

"What? Oh, sorry."

I pulled back but remained facing toward Mom's backside.

"Move back," she urged.

I shifted back further, my gaze never leaving the expanse of bottom and thighs revealed by my retreat. My observation was cut short by Mom's sudden shift toward me as she jerked her elbow off the armrest and put her head down on it. Her bottom was once more pressed against me and, since I was still facing her, so was the tent in my shorts. She must have felt its presence but she acted like nothing was wrong. I looked down to confirm what I could feel and was surprised to see Mom's skirt riding high up on her hip. I guess it have been dragged way up when she slid down on the couch. No wonder it was so warm down there.

I had nowhere to put my hands and they were hovering over her. I realized I should pull back and face forward but Mom was watching the TV so I felt no immediate need to end the wonderful sensations emanating from the area of my private parts. I leaned sideways to put my elbow on the back of the couch above Mom, causing my groin to press even more firmly against her bottom. Sucking in my breath, I waited for a rebuke but it never came. I watched the TV, holding my other hand aloft, then slowly lowered it until it rested on Mom's thigh, just above the knee. Soon, I renewed the sideways rubbing of my forefinger and thumb.

My body ached. To keep in contact with Mom's bottom, I was uncomfortably contorted. The hand whose thumb and forefnger were caressing Mom's thigh was moving up and down her leg without distracting Mom's attention on the TV. My discomfort was overridden by the desire keep the ground I had gained. Gently, I urged Mom's knee upward. If I could shift her leg, I could move mine more comfortably behind it. After applying pressure for some time, Mom's knees shifted up and the top one fell in front of the other. My legs followed.

When Mom's upper leg had fallen in front of the other, a gap opened between her thighs into which my hand and automatically continued its stroking caress.

The movie ended.

Mom kept watching the TV for several minutes, neither of us moving except for my roving hand. Her hand rose up and clutched the pillow over her head. Suddenly, my hand became trapped as Mom's upper leg lifted and slid back on top of the other one. I was stuck in a very warm place high up between her legs.

I tried to move my hand but it was firmly ensconced between her legs, so high up that I could feel the puffiness of her panties pressing down on the back of my thumb. I moved my thumb upward and her thighs went rigid. I froze. The muscles in the arm clutching the pillow were tense. Clearly, Mom was at the cusp of a decision. I waited, knowing the next few seconds would define our future relationship, love or hate.

I waited.

And waited.

Except for the tension in her arm and legs, Mom could have been sleeping. The influence of the doll didn't matter now. She didn't know about it so how could it contribute to her decision? Whatever affect it had was already in play. Mom must be torn about whether to follow the path that Gary's and Billy's moms had taken. I was sure it wasn't about whether or not it would work. She had told Billy's mom that I wouldn't show the same interest in her that Billy was demonstrating to his mom, but now she knew better so the question couldn't be whether or not it would work.

Did she want to, or could she, go through with it? That was the question.

I waited. Mom's thighs still immobilized my hand. I felt distant, as if I was looking down at Mom and I on the couch, only mildly interested, watching to see what would unfold, and casually awaiting the end of the struggle.

I waited.

Suddenly, it dawned on me that maybe Mom couldn't decide on her own. Of course, she wanted to turn me away from sinking into worse behavior, to guide me towards a bright future, but at such a cost, wasn't there another way? I needed to convince her that the price was worth it, or better, that there was no other way.

I flexed my thumb against Mom's panties and her legs immediately became even more rigid.

"You know, Mom, I've been thinking a lot lately. I believe people are mostly good but there's a little bad in everyone. Even Dad has bad thoughts."

I felt bad about reminding Mom about the Dad, the studio, and Susan but I needed every ounce of pressure to teeter Mom over the edge.

"I try not to be bad but I'm not perfect. I know I'll do something. I can't help it."

I leaned down and pressed my forehead against Mom's side next to her breast and shook my head slowly, rubbing my nose in her flesh.

"I'm really trying but it's hard," I whispered. "If only there was something to help me, something to think about that would restrain me when I'm out there alone, by myself."

Jesus. Could I be more obvious? Mom's hand slid part way down the pillow covering her head. Yes, I could be more obvious. I blatantly laid it out.

"If only," I paused for effect, "I could be a little bit bad at home it might make me better out there, kind of like a balance sort of thing."

I waited for my words to take hold. Mom had turned her face up to hear me better, only an inch or maybe even less, but it showed she was listening.

I waited, but Mom didn't ask me for more detail on what I meant as I had expected her to do. She seemed to be waiting for me to say something more but I was waiting for her to ask. Instead, Mom relaxed, allowing her face to settle down into the couch the inch it had turned up. She pulled the pillow more firmly over her face and was still, but the tension in her legs eased.

I flexed my thumb, pressing firmly into Mom's panties but the muscles in her legs didn't tense up like before. The thrill that coursed through me almost escaped my lips in a squeal of delight. Holy fuck!

I rubbed my thumb across the front of Mom's panties and still she didn't clench her legs tight to stop me. I hunched closer to her and pressed my swelling cock against her bum. I struggled to control my breathing but the joy of holding and touching Mom so intimately was too great. I couldn't hide my excitement. I dropped my right hand behind her back and slipped it underneath her body, finding and cupping her breast.

"I love you, Mom. I know you'll help me," I rasped.

I pulled my hand out from behind Mom's legs and squeezed in back in from the front. My hand cupped her mound and its longest finger found and pressed into the now very damp groove dividing her swelling lips. My cock throbbed against Mom's panties from behind. I was in heaven.

I began rubbing my hand up and down on Mom's pussy with my finger sliding between her pubes. Without meaning to, my finger pushed her panties aside and slipped underneath. Immediately it was surrounded by Mom's wet lips and my nose, still nuzzling the side of Mom's breast, was filled with her pungent odor. I pushed my finger deeper, found the smaller, inner hole and slipped inside.

I was finger-fucking Mom! I concentrated on moving my fingers inside her to deliver the most exquisite sensations I could, based upon my recently learned knowledge. Judging by Mom's poorly restrained breathing, I wasn't doing a bad job. Unfortunately, I was also humping against her behind and lost my concentration. I relieved myself in my shorts.

Shortly after that, Mom snorted as if she was waking, and sat up. I sat up with her and withdrew my hand as she rose. She shook her head as if to clear it, then got up and went upstairs without saying a word, not even goodnight. I turned off the TV and went to bed too.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

I didn't visit Billy's Mom the next day. For one thing, something told me that Mrs. Hammond wouldn't be all that interested in showing me how grateful she was now that she had decided to change her son's behavior directly without working through me. She obviously didn't need my help anymore. The other thing was that I didn't much care anymore. The woman I kept thinking about was Mom.

To be sure, Mrs. Hammond was a sexy woman and, push come to shove, I would enjoy fucking her, and maybe one day I would, if I could. But now, the woman I really wanted was the one I loved, and the I now knew loved me so much she would do anything for me, maybe. I wanted to find out. Let me rephrase that, I needed to find out.

I started to approach Mom several times the next day but something in her demeanor warned me away. I decided not to risk pushing it and possibly losing what I had gained. I retreated to my room after she brushed me off and paid loving attention to the doll. Nevertheless, I received the same subliminal message when I approached Mom several more times and I backed off each time, but revisited the doll each time too.

Just before dinner, after Dad had come home, Mom began leafing through the photos that Dad had taken of Susan. She had evidently brought them from studio earlier and put them under a magazine on the coffee table. After she finished looking at each one, she tossed it back onto the coffee table. Dad looked uncomfortable. Not all the pictures were headshots. In fact, most were full body pics, from many angles, including lots in reclining poses where Susan's skirt had slid far up her legs. Mom was critical.

"You know, I don't think you've done Susan justice."

"What do you mean?" Dad asked nervously.

"She has a wonderful figure and you can't really see it in thesd pictures. I think you should get her back and take some more."

"Really? I think they show that she's a very pretty young woman. Someone should give her a shot on that basis," Dad defended his professional skill.

"Maybe," Mom replied, "but if there were a few more risqué shots, it would help."

"You think so?" Dad asked.

"Yes, a few bikini shots would clinch an interview, I should think," Mom mused.

"Well, maybe I don't think I could suggest that to her. I don't her and her husband that well."

"Neither do I but she seemed to take it well."

"She...you didn't..."

"Yes, I did. She's coming over after dinner. She seemed quite thrilled, in fact. I told her you wouldn't mind taking a few more photos, well, lot's more."

"No, no, of course not," Dad agreed. "They are neighbors, after all."

"Exactly," Mom said. "She'll be over about eight thirty, after she puts Ricky to bed. I told her to bring a bikini or two and maybe some lingerie."

Dad ate dinner quickly that night and hurried off to studio to get ready. Mom seemed pleased with herself and I was confused. I couldn't figure Mom out. Why had she invited Susan to spend more time alone with Dad in the studio, in a bikini and lingerie yet?

I tried to help Mom with the dishes, just to be near her but she shooed me out.

"Maybe you can keep me company while your father and Susan are in the studio," she suggested.

I agreed to do that but was more interested in keeping her company after Susan had left and Dad had gone to bed.

"Maybe we could watch a couple of movies," I suggested in return.

"Maybe," Mom replied.

I went up to my room and played with the doll. I heard Susan come in and shortly after that, Mom called me. I went downstairs to find Mom sitting on the couch, watching TV. The lights had been dimmed.

"I thought I heard Susan come in," I said, looking down the hall at the closed studio door.

"She did," Mom replied. "They'll probably be busy for a while, I should think."

I sat down on the couch and as soon as I did, Mom slid down onto her side and rested her head on the armrest.

"So, did she bring her bikinis?"

"Shhhhhh," Mom hissed.

I shut up. Mom reached for my hand and pulled it onto her hip. I waited a few minutes before allowing it to stray onto her thigh outside her skirt. I shifted closer to her and started stroking her leg, stretching down to her bare knee. Mom pulled the pillow over her face.

A commercial started but Mom remained focused on the screen. On the next upstroke, my hand slipped underneath her skirt and Mom didn't even flinch. The commercials ended just when I reached the half way point between the hem of Mom's skirt and her panties. I worked my way higher and higher, my fingers curling around the front of Mom's legs into the crease between them. By the time the next set of commercials came on, my fingers were bumping against the front of Mom's panties.

"Jeff?" Mom whispered.

"Yeah," I answered, worried by her awareness.

"Were you bad today?"

I was about to answer when Mom spoke again.

"I mean, out there."

"No."

My fingers nestled against Mom's panties, and stayed.

"Do you think your father's being bad in there?" Mom asked.

"No," I responded truthfully. "He might be thinking about it but I doubt he's doing anything."

"Even when Susan's in a bikini?"

"Yeah, even then."

"Hmmmm. I guess you're right. You always have been more like me."

"You mean, because I'm bad?"

"Yes."

That was an interesting response. I thought about it for a moment, and while I did, my finger started tickling the front of Mom's panties.

"Jeff?"

"Yeah?"

"I bought a new bikini today."

"You did?"

"Yes. If you're good out there tomorrow, I'll show it to you before your father gets home. Maybe you can take some pictures?"

"Okay, Mom."

"I think I still look okay in a bikini."

"Mom."

"Yes?"

"Shhhhh. Watch the movie."

Mom pulled the pillow tighter over her head and my finger became more active. I leaned down to press my nose into the side of her breast, which felt unencumbered. I slipped my hand behind her and underneath, finding and grasping her breast. Mom wasn't wearing a bra. I filled my hand with tit and slipped my fingers inside Mom's panties which was easy because they were the kind that dip low in front, something I guessed was new in Mom's wardrobe. I was pleased, very pleased.

I pressed close to Mom, pushing my hard cock against her bottom. I loved doing this. I humped at her slowly for a while then pulled back. I lifted Mom's skirt up to expose her panties, found the waistband and pulled them down, exposing her ass and the back of her pussy. The sight of those two, fat puffy lips made me leak into the condom I had put on so I didn't mess my pants like I had the previous night. I spread them with my fingers to reveal the sweet pinkness inside. Mother fucker, that was hot.

Tightening two fingers, I pushed them inside. Mom flinched but I pressed on, dividing her lips and pushing into her inner hole, invading her cunt.

"Unnnghhh."

Squish, squish, squish. Mom was already wet and getting wetter.

"Dad's in there alone with that hot little bitch in her bikini," I whispered, shoving my fingers in deep.

"Unnnghhh."

"And he hasn't got the moxie to do her."

Shove, shove.

"If it was me, I'd do her, even if my wife was out here."

"That's because...unhhhh...you're bad," Mom rasped.

"That's right, just like his wife," I rasped back.

"Do you want to do her?" Mom asked.

"What?"

"Susan. I'll tell her she'll look better in pictures with a younger man," Mom said.

"You mean me?"

"Yes," Mom hissed.

"You're bad, Mom. Why would you want to see me do Susan? A little payback for your husband's wandering eye?"

"I just want you to be rewarded, Jeff."

"Oh."

I pulled my hands away from Mom and she sighed in disappointment. I tugged her legs down straight on the couch and rolled her onto her tummy, then dragged her skirt up onto her back. Pushing my hand between her legs from behind, I found her pussy and slowly inserted three fingers into her cunt, then lifted her face from the pillow.

"I don't want that milktoast goody-goody, I want you," I hissed, twisting my fingers deeply inside her cunt.

"Unnnghhhh. But she's beautiful, Jeff."

"So are you."

"Unnghhh. You can go all the way with her."

"I can do that with you."

"No, you can't."

"You won't let me?"

"Not all the way."

"How far, then?"

"I...unghhhh...don't know. Just this."

"I want more."

"No. I've already gone too far. Ohhhh, Jeez, that feels good."

"He doesn't treat you like this, does he?"

"Unnnghhhh. No."

"I know how to make you feel good."

"Yes...unghhh...you do, but we can't go all the way, Jeff. I'll get Susan for you. She acts innocent but there's a wildness in her. I can sense it."

The thought of Mom procurring a young wife for me was pretty wild.

"Okay, Mom."

I practised my recently-learned finger art for the next few minutes and got Mom really worked up. I slipped onto my knees and crab-walked sideways to Mom's head, being careful to keep my fingers working in her cunt. Using my left hand, I undid my shorts and let my condom covered cock spring free. I wished now that I hadn't put the damn thing on. I pulled Mom's head toward me. She opened her eyes and they went wide. Holding the back of her neck, I urged her forward.

"She's probably in her bikini now," I croaked, "maybe even her panties, and he's gawking at her. It would be really nasty for you to take me into your mouth while he's in there thinking he's getting away with something."

Mom shook her head but her eyes were wide and she wasn't trying to pull away so I urged her head forward until my plastic-covered cock nudged her lips.

"I need you," I pleaded.

Mom's lips parted and my tip slipped inside. I put all my fingers at the entrance to Mom's well-worked hole and pushed. Mom opened her mouth wide and my cock slipped in. I pushed harder, all my fingers sinking to the third knuckles. Mom gulped and took me in to her tonsils. I worked my hand, twisting it, to stretch Mom's cunt. She mumbled something on my cock but I figured it would have been unintelligible even without her mouth full.

I began stroking in her mouth, trying to time my in and outs with left and right twists of my hand, and was amazed when Mom thrust her ass up to get more of it inside. I was moving faster now, without regard to Mom's face. Below, Mom stretched wide enough that the hinge of my thumb crested and my hand slipped fully inside. Mom bucked her hips and her whole body trembled and quivered, then she stopped humping and simply vibrated, coming on my enveloped wrist. So did I, just in the condom, but it was in her hot, wet mouth.

Dad and Susan emerged about ten minutes later. Mom and I were quietly watching a movie. We got up to greet them. Susan gushed about how thankful she was for Mom's suggestion about doing more pictures. Mom walked her to the door and Dad turned back to the studio, I guess to review the pictures. Mom spoke quietly for a moment to Susan while I stood by myself, the condom in my pants full of cum, and my pocket bulging with Mom's soaking wet panties. Susan glanced at me, then smiled and nodded at Mom.

"Has Dad gone back to his studio?" Mom asked after she closed the door.

I nodded.

"Well, I think I'll go up to bed now." She turned at the stairs and said, "You'd better be a very good boy, Jeff."

"I will, Mom."

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The first thing next morning I started working up the doll. There was no way Mom had capitulated so fast simply because she wanted to change my behavior. The doll definitely had something to do with it and no matter what Gary's mom or Billy's mom thought, they were affected too. They were simply too close, too involved, to think straight.

I fingered and rubbed and licked the doll before going downstairs for breakfast. Mom had finished hers and was watching a morning show on TV while she drank her coffee. Dad was reading the paper and eating his. He glanced at his watch as I entered the kitchen and did so several more times. He liked to wait until the last possible minute before facing the morning rush hour.


byalwayswantedto©

I made some cereal and sat down with Dad to eat. We didn't talk. About halfway through eating my cereal, Dad abruptly got up to leave.

"Have a good day, son."

"You too, Dad."

"See you dear. I'm off," he called to Mom as he left the house.

I finished my cereal and had another glass of juice before rinsing the dishes in the sink and putting them in the dishwasher. I walked to the kitchen doorway and looked out at Mom. She was sitting with her feet up on the edge of the coffee table, kind of slouching down so her feet could reach. She was wearing a white, silk blouse and a loose, pleated navy blue skirt. As I approached her, I could see the outline of a dark bra under her blouse. I kneeled down beside her feet by the coffee table.

Mom glanced at me, then continued watching the TV.

"You have to be good all day to get your cookie," she said.

"I know that, Mom. I was just concerned about your rash."

"Oh yeah, I'm sure," she laughed.

"No, really," I insisted, grabbing the foot nearest me and twisting it outward so I could see the back of her calf. I ran my fingers lightly up the back of her leg to the knee. The excitement I sensed in reaction to my touch transferred to me.

"I don't have a rash anymore," Mom complained, trying to tug her foot free.

"I'm not so sure," I said. "It doesn't look like it, but I can feel a couple of tiny bumps."

"Jeff, I don't have a rash," Mom insisted.

"I think you do, Mom."

I pushed Mom's foot toward her, forcing her knee to bend and lift upward. As I lifted her foot, Mom's shoe fell off and clattered onto the table. I moved closer, sidling into a position more in front of Mom, and moved her foot from my right hand to my left. Holding her knee in its bent back position, I examined Mom's calf more closely, then turned my eye to the underside of her thigh.

"There's a bit of a rash, but not much of one."

"Jeff, quit playing around," Mom tried harder to twist her leg free.

I touched the back of Mom's thigh and was surprised how her flesh flinched.

"I don't think it needs any lotion," I said, touching her again and leaving the tip of my finger on her skin, then letting it slowly drag down toward her panties which I noted matched the navy blue skirt.

"Of course it doesn't need any lotion," Mom snapped. "There's nothing there."

Holding her foot by the ankle, I lifted Mom' right leg.

"Jeff, I can't see," Mom complained.

"I'll just kiss it better," I said, and ducked my head until my lips pressed against Mom's soft flesh on the inside where her thigh thickened. My lips nibbled. "It's amazing what a little love can do."

"Jeff, stop it," Mom giggled. "That tickles."

I nibbled faster, moving my mouth around in a circle. Mom giggled again.

"Stop tickling me."

She lifted her left leg and tried to bump my head away with her knee so I grabbed the underside and lifted it, then planted several nipping nibbles upon it too.

"Don't. I hate being tickled," Mom complained.

Ignoring her, I rained nibbled and nips all over the inside of her thighs. Her hands grabbed my head and tried to push it away but I was firm and fervent in pursuing my task. Gradually, my nibbles became longer nips and then more like love bites as Mom's hands pushed with less force. Sucking more than biting, my lips moved closer and closer to Mom's panties and her hands began steering and pulling than pushing away. I came very close, skirting the edge of Mom's panties.

"Jeff."

I plunged, opening my mouth wide and encapsulating as much panty-covered mound as I could.

"Oh God, oh God," Mom cried, her hands pushing again.

I held in tight, my neck straining with the effort to keep my mouth on Mom's pussy. I moved my lips like I was sucking on a large ice cream cone.

"Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God!"

My nose pressed into Mom's puffiness and moved with my head as I swirled it about, never letting go of my damp mouthful. I pressed my tongue into action, licking her groove and pushing in firmly, plying Mom's nether gully as deeply as her panties would allow.

"Ohhhhhhhhhh," Mom sighed, her hands pulling my head firmly onto her panties.

I nodded my head, shook it sideways, again and again, always munching, always licking. Mom's sighs and moans grew longer and more frequent. Her remaining shoe dropped to the rug as her feet bounced in the air. I slid my hands down Mom's thighs but her legs remained high and pulled back, keeping her pantied-pussy fully accessible to my face. Grasping the sides of Mom's panties, I dragged them up her legs as unobtrusively as I could, expecting a violent reaction as soon as she noticed what I was doing. The protest, when it came, was unexpectedly mild.

"Jeff don't," Mom mumbled as her panties cleared her buttocks. "We can't," she cried as they slid up the back of her thighs high enough to bare the bottom of her pussy. "You mustn't," she whimpered as my mouth found her bare pussy for the first time. "Oh god," she moaned as my tongue slid inside her lips and licked the length of her groove.

Mom was silent except for the sound of her ragged breathing as I pushed her panties up to her knees, constantly lapping her cunt, and pulled them over her knees, stretching my hands up high, bending her knees and pulling her legs down to yank the prize off her feet.

"Just this, just this," I assured her though I'm sure my words were unintelligible through her sloppy, wet, pink flesh.

I dropped my hands, the left curling around the underside of her right thigh to find the sensitive nub atop her sloppy lips. The right skidded underneath her blouse, found her bra and flipped it up, baring her left tit. I filled my hand, squeezing her nipple, and plunged my tongue deep.

"Awww God, fuck!" Mom cried so loud I thought the neighbors might hear.

I dug my tongue in deep again, wiggling it all around, then pulled it out to lap her lips again, pressing and rubbing her bud at the same time.

"Fuck!" Mom yelled.

I pinched Mom's nipple hard, tugged down, then released it.

"Fuck!"

Grabbing it again, I pulled it down harder, held on longer, then released it with a snap.

"Oh, my God."

I brought my right hand around Mom's bottom and found her pussy, then inserted two fingers into her soaking cunt. Immediately, I increased the frequency of my lapping tongue, and jammed my fingers in and out just as fast, leaning into her to lift her ass for better access. I pistoned my fingers in Mom's cunt, licked her lips, and rubbed her bud.

"Oh, oh, oh, ohhhh, ohhhhhhh, ohhhhhahhhhhh, fuuuuck, fuuuuck!"

Mom's pussy quivered and her legs shook violently, then began scissoring around my face, her hands holding me so hard I could barely breath, snorting through my nose to stay alive. When Mom's legs finally relaxed and her feet collapsed to the floor beside me, I sat back on my haunches.

Mom was dazed. Though she was looking at me, I don't think she really saw me. I'm sure she didn't notice me pushing my shorts down to my knees, over, and down my legs. When I stood up, she reacted slowly to my freely bouncing cock.

"Jeff, no. We can't," Mom protested, snapping her legs shut and covering her satisfied pussy with both hands.

She had no idea was I was about to do and her actions made it easier to accomplish my task. I stepped out of my shorts and up onto the couch, my feet beside her hips. Mom looked up at me in surprise, again facilitating my goal. She opened her mouth to speak, and I filled it with my cock.

"Jeblplbgle"

Mom tried to pull away but I followed and grabbed her head with both hands to prevent further retreat. I sank in another inch before pulling out, hovered over her open mouth, then sank in again as soon as I heard words gurgling up.

"Jefblplbgle"

"Ahhh, Mom. That's so fucking hot. My turn, my turn."

I pulled out, waited, and sank in again, joyful that no words bubbled up.

"Yeah, oh yeah," I cried, dipping my cock quickly in and out several times. "Suck it for me."

I plunged my cock in again, filling Mom's mouth, the loud sucking sound when I pulled away from her lips thrilling me. She had heard what I said. It warranted a repeat.

"My turn," I sighed, sinking in again. "Suck it hard."

I moved my cock up and down, stretching and bending at the knees until I tired. Sinking down, I crouched before Mom, tipped her head forward, and flexed my hips to fuck her face. She was a trooper. Several times, I pushed in too far but Mom never tried to turn her head away, she simply gasped for breath and waited, mouth yawning wide, for me to return.

I didn't realize until I was about to come that I hadn't thought to wear a condom even though I had planned this while I was still in bed. In my excitement and haste, I had simply forgot. There was no fixing that now, my bucking hips were in automatic mode. I was going to come. My balls knew it, my cock knew it, and Mom knew it. The fingers of one hand curled around my balls while the other hooked around my thigh, trying to keep my cock from withdrawing completely from my mouth. I realized, with pride, that Mom was planning on taking everything I had in her mouth. I let it go.

Sploosh, sploosh, sploosh.

"Ahhhhhhhh, fuuuuck!" I cried, dwarfing her earlier yell.

Sploosh, sploosh. My cock pulled out, squirt, squirt, on Mom's lips, then back in, sucking sounds, beautiful sucking sounds, back out, dribbling, dribbling on Mom's chin, trying to get back in but skidding across her face, pulling back, getting it right this time, into her mouth, oh God, sucking hard. I fell over Mom, my arms bracing myself on the back of the couch and my head banging against the wall, thankfully remembering not to push too hard into her mouth. Mom sucking and licking, lovingly, cleaning me, teasing me, kissing it, sucking it, kissing it. Oh God, I twisted sideways and fell onto the couch.

"That was very bad, Jeffrey," Mom chastized me. "You had better be good for a long time, a very long time."

"I will Mom, I will."

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

"Jeff?"

"Who the fuck else would it be? You called me."

"I know. Man you wouldn't believe me what happened last night."

"Yeah. What happened?"

"What's the matter with you? Your old lady still not being nice to you."

"Nope."

"Too bad, I feel for ya."

"Yeah, well, so what happened?'

"You sure you want to hear?"

"No. Yeah, go ahead."

Billy started.

"So Mom goes to bed with Dad last night but then comes downstairs to get a nightcap. But instead of taking it back upstairs she comes into the living room. She stops in front of me and asks me if I'd done anything she would like to hear about that day. I says, 'no' and she then asks me to hold her drink, which I do. So I'm holding it and she takes off her robe. Well, she's wearing this long nightgown underneath so it doesn't show much more of her skin but it's really silky-like so it's almost like she's got nothing on anyway. Man, I felt like I had a golf ball in my mouth."

"She's got a pretty hot body," I remarked, instantly reprimanding myself but Billy didn't read past my words.

"Yeah," Billy said. "So I hand her drink back to her but she doesn't go. Instead she sits down on my lap, right on my boner. It's really hard and sticking up into her ass but she pays it no mind and asks me to tell her what I did today. So I starts telling her and she's stroking my face with her finger, kinda like scratching it, you know, and making me really horny because all the time her butt is folding around my cock. So I run out of things to say and she says, 'Is that all?'"

"I tried do think of other things to say so we won't leave but my mind goes blank and Mom gets up but, to my surprise, she sits down right beside me. 'So you were a good boy today, were you?' All I could do was nod my head because she was looking down at my erection. I mean it was filling my pants and sticking way up. While I'm nodding, Mom puts her fingers on it, real light, no heavier than a feather, but she could have hit my cock with a hammer and I wouldn't have felt it more. It lurches up and she laughs. I mean, she laughs. 'What have you got in there, Billy? Is that for me?' she says."

"Before I can answer—God knows what I would have said—she pulls my zipper down and tries to get my cock out but it's too big, so she unbuttons my pants and pulls them open. My cock pushes my underwear way up and Mom grabbed the waistband and yanked it down. So now my cock is flipping around, hard as all get out, and Mom grabs it. 'Stay still, you silly thing,' she says, then starts jacking my cock. 'You're going to be good every day aren't you, Billy?' she asks and I says, I sure will, so she starts jacking me off faster."

"No shit," I said.

"It gets better. She leans over me and puts her face right over the top of my cock. 'You won't make a mess on me will you, Billy?' I say, no, I sure won't, Mom, and she says, 'I'd like you to get your hair cut.'"

"Really? Are you going to cut your hair?"

"You betcha. Have to."

"Why?"

"Cause I said I would. She put her face down real close and breathed on the tip of my cock. 'You will cut your hair, won't you, Billy?' What the hell. I said, Hell yes, Mom and she said I shouldn't swear so I promised to get my hair cut the next day and to never swear again."

"Fuckin hell, you wimp."

"Fuck you," Billy retorted.

"Hey, watch it or I'll tell your mommy," I taunted.

"You do and you die," Billy wasn't amused.

"Ya ya. So what happened then?"

"As soon as I said that, Mom's head dropped, right onto my cock. It went up and down about a dozen times and that was it."

"You came?"

"No, she quit."

"You're kidding. She didn't let you finish?"

"Yeah, it was the shits but what she said next was awesome."

"What? What did she say?"

"She said, 'If you get your hair cut I'll let you do something real special, Billy.'"

"Fuck," I said. "You mean, she'll suck you?"

"Not only that. I mean, the way she put her face real close and blew on my cock and what she said earlier, I think she means she'll let me blow my load in her face."

"No way."

"Yeah, I'm sure of it 'cause she grabbed my cock and rubbed it on both sides of her face."

"Get your hair cut, man."

"I going there right now," Billy cried. He could hardly speak he was so excited.

"You lucky fuck."

"You gots to start working with that doll or do something real bad to make your Mom want to cure you. I mean, am I lucky I was such a badass, or what?"

I hung up while Billy was still cackling. I was super jealous. Mom had given me a real treat this morning but I couldn't imagine her letting me do what Billy's mom had promised. I thought about Mrs. Hammond's pretty, haughty face. Yeah, I could blow a wad on it, I sure could.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

I watched Mom closely at lunch, maybe too closely.

"What?" she asked, eyebrows raised.

"Nothing," I answered. "Just thinking."

"Thinking about what?" she pressed.

"Nothing, just...I don't know."

Mom walked over and put her hand on my shoulder, her soft fingers curling around the base of my neck making me draw in my breath. She had a way about her. Even an innocent touch like that got me excited, as evidenced by my tightening shorts.

"Tell me," she said in a lower voice."

"You'll get mad at me."

"No I won't. Tell me," Mom whispered.

"I can't."

"Is it about what happened this morning?"

I nodded.

"Was it too much? Do you want to quit? We can, you know. We'll just pretend none of it ever happened."

"Oh no, Mom. I don't want to stop. What happened was wonderful. I never want to stop doing stuff like that."

Mom had been leaning down but she pulled up a bit in response to my enthusiasm and seemed a little disappointed by my response.

"Okay. Well, I meant what I said about not going further, you know, actually doing it, if that's what you're hinting at."

"No, it isn't that."

"Oh, I see. Well you don't have to do that for me again if that's what you mean. It was wonderful and it's been a long time since a man did that for me...gosh, I think I was dating, has it really been that long? Anyway, I've lived without that for a long time so don't worry about it, but I'll still be nice to you as long as you stay out of trouble and get busy figuring out what you want to do with your life."

Mom took a needed breath, kissed the top of my head and hugged me, pressing her breast into the side of my face. I turned toward her and nestled between her boobs. They were so ample and soft. My hands found their way around her waist and managed to drop down to cup her buttocks.

"I don't mind doing that, Mom. In fact, I like doing it."

"You do?"

"Yeah."

I kissed her belly through her blouse, then lowered my head and kissed the front of her skirt.

"I should finish making lunch," Mom said as I planted two more kisses on her skirt.

I dropped my hands down to grasp Mom's legs just below the hem of her skirt and pressed my face more firmly into her skirt.

"Jeff, I really should make lunch."

My hands slipped up the back of Mom's legs, inside the skirt, and cupped her bottom. I ducked my head, caught the hem on the bridge of my nose, and lifted it until my nose connected with Mom's panties.

"Jeff, stop that. I'm hungry. Aren't you hungry?"

"Very," was my muffled reply, my nose finding the magic groove. I flicked my tongue out and licked the cotton.

"Ohhhhhh, Jeff. Don't."

She may have said don't but Mom's hands curled around the back of my head and her hips swayed, brushing her mound across my nose. I extended my tongue and lapped the front of her panties, slid off to trail along the edge of each leg, and then returned to the front.

"Jeff, we shouldn't."

I ignored what Mom was saying because I knew we were going to. She was speaking for her own consumption, convincing herself that she didn't really want to but probably would ... to help me. Fine. I needed help several times a day and the sooner I could get Mom into the habit of helping me that often, the better. I'd chew on her mound all day if I could get what I wanted. I started tugging Mom's panties down.

"Oh, Jeff. No, no."

No? Then why did Mom pull my face into her muff? The panties stretched as I yanked them down her thighs and were halfway to her knees before they snapped away from her sticky pussy. Immediately, I engulfed her mound in my mouth.

"Awww Gawd, Jeff. Don't," Mom moaned.

Munch, munch, munch.

"Jesus, no, no, don't."

Lap, lap, lap, licking her sparse sprinkle of hair until it was flat and glistening along and above her pubes.

"That's so good," she murmured. "So fucking good."

I pushed two fingers into Mom's cunt. She moaned loudly and her legs trembled. I steered her around to the next kitchen chair, slipping off mine onto my knees, following her around the table. I lost her pussy as Mom plopped down on the chair but she pushed her hips forward, legs wide, eager to renew contact. I granted her wish.

I licked and lapped Mom while working my fingers in her hole. I did my best to make it an even better experience than our morning session which I guessed wasn't just the first one in a long time, it was the best she'd ever had. I wanted to top that because there was something I wanted Mom to do when I was finished. I wanted her to think she owed me.

So I teased her maternal pussy mercilessly. Whenever she was close and starting up Mount Olympus I held back until she regained control, then began the onslaught again. Once, when I withdrew my fingers too far and slipped out of her cunt, I missed going back in and skidded below, past Mom's ass. She flinched but I quickly got into the proper place and we began the upward spiral again. A minute or two later, I missed again and scraped across Mom's anus. The next time was on purpose. 

The way Mom sucked her breath in, I knew she had never felt that before, or at least, had never allowed it. I kept my finger pressed against the little hole but didn't try to push it in. Moving my mouth higher, I flicked her clit, then dragged the tip of my tongue delicately around her bud, flicked again, licked softly, then returned for a few laps and finally thrust my tongue in hard and deep. That's when I ventured my first probe into Mom's ass, just to the first knuckle but I almost came in my pants I was so excited.

Now I had a second reason to work Mom up. She had to want what I was doing so bad she would let me do this and the other thing I had planned, the thing Billy was hoping to get from his mom. I don't think Mom would do these things just to keep me from painting graffiti or stealing a car. She needed her own internal motivation.

I inserted my thumb in Mom's slippery pussy and left my finger embedded knuckle deep in her ass while I licked and sucked and tickled and teased and flicked, bringing Mom close several times and pulling back. Finally, I missed the cusp and couldn't haul Mom back down the slope so I put my heart into to it and shoved her over the top as hard as I could. I had little experience to compare her response but I don't think many women can run an orgasm as long as Mom did that afternoon. When she was spent, she flopped back in the chair, hair strewn about her face, the epitome of rapture.

I stood and nudged Mom's feet together, then her knees, and straddled her thighs. Mom seemed exhausted and simply watched me with listless eyes. I leaned down and started undoing her blouse. She didn't object. I parted the blouse and pushed it off her shoulders and part way down her arms, then pulled the sleeves over her hands. Mom lifted her arms half-heartedly to help me, a wan smile gracing her face. She didn't even protest when I unhooked her bra and peeled it off and for the first time saw her magnificent, on the larger side of medium tits. Despite their softness, which I had felt when I pressed my face into them earlier, they were surprisingly firm. Their sag only served to make them look sexier when they finally swept away from her chest, jutting out, topped by big stiff nipples, no doubt still agitated from my efforts below.

Mom smiled and I wondered if she was pleased by the surprise and pleasure in my eyes upon seeing her wonderful tits. She was still smiling when I started to unbuckle my pants but when I opened them the smile faded. Mom looked serious as I pulled the waistband of my undershorts out to free my cock. Mom held her hand up, holding me in abeyance.

"Jeff, promise me you'll never steal anything again, or damage anyone's property, and you'll start doing something with your life."

"I promise, Mom." I starting to pull my cock out again but Mom covered my hand with hers.

"I mean it, Jeff. I know what you want to do and I want you to promise me even if I never 'help' you again."

I adopted a solemn, humble look, "I promise, Mom. I'll never paint another building, steal a car or break into a store, and I'll get off my ass."

Mom pulled her hand away and I freed my cock. She took it into her hand, played with it until it stiffened, then started jacking it. I let my arms fall and grabbed two handfuls of tit, satisfied to knead her flesh while she stroked mine. I was about to get one of the things I wanted and was happy to let her play with my cock as much as she wanted. It was bigger than Dad's, I knew, because I had seen him when we used the showers at the beach. Maybe my cock could trigger one of her internal motivations.

Fuck, life was good. To be standing here in my the kitchen while my mother jacked me off, was unimaginable just two days ago. Yet here I was, serenely allowing my mother to caress my cock until I decided to unload in her face. Fucking hell, it was greatl to be alive.

I was really hard now. Time to put it into her mouth. I took hold of my meat, displacing Mom's hands, stroked it a few times, then brought it near her face. Mom grabbed her tits and pushed them together and up, offering them to me.

"You want to spray them, don't you Jeff?" she asked, waving them in front of me.

That wasn't what I wanted but she seemed to think it would be special, so I nodded.

"First, some of this," I said, placing the tip of my cock on Mom's chin and one hand on the top of her forehead. I pressed back and held her chin down until her mouth opened. I slid inside.

Oh, mother of all holies! To slide into a woman's warm, wet, inviting mouth was an incredible feeling but to push your pole into your mother's mouth, now that is pure bliss. Slowly, I began to pump Mom's mouth. Mom was docile, adeptly accepting my thrusts while she continued to hold her tits ready for me to deposit my spunk in case I should suddenly need to do so. But I had other plans.

I fucked Mom's face like I licked her pussy. Every time I started to get carried away, I pulled out and breathed deeply, trying to last. Mom seemed to understand my desire to enjoy this for as long as I could. After all, she had implied that she might never do it again. After a long time, Mom dropped her tits and began stroking my balls with her fingers. I suspect she was growing tired and needed to make me come.

I pulled out every third stroke in an effort to calm myself down, then every second, and finally after every deep shove into her mouth. Mom urged me back in every time, clearly wanting me to finish.

"I won't do this for you every day," she gasped.

Well, at least she was going to do it again. I pushed back toward her mouth but, like my finger had done below, I missed and skidded across her cheek. Quickly, I pulled back and put it in her mouth.

"Do it now baby," Mom urged, pulling me toward her mouth as soon as I pulled out.

Her words excited me and I flexed my hips forward but missed again, skidding across the other cheek. Pulling back, I pushed onto Mom's lips and alongside her nose, then up and over to the other cheek. Gently, I rested the tip of my cock in her eye socket, then slowly dragged back over her slick face, dipped into her mouth, and spread the saliva onto her other cheek. Mom looked up at me, comprehension dawning in her eyes.

"My god, is that what you want?"

I wasn't sure what she was thinking but I nodded anyway. She took a deep breath.

"Not every time, baby, and maybe only once."

I pushed into her mouth and fucked it for a dozen strokes while Mom tickled my balls. I spiraled out of control but didn't make any effort to stop it. I wasn't pulling out now, not when Mom might change her mind at any moment. Faster. Mom was moaning, encouraging me, motherfuck, I was coming. I yanked out, steadied my cock, and blew it into Mom's face.

I generated a huge load. No wonder, really. I blasted wad after wad, drenching Mom everywhere, all over her face, in her mouth, her hair, and even missing her head entirely, landing a gob on the floor behind her. Fuck, she would definitely never let me do this again. What a mess!

I was amazed when I finished that Mom kept her mouth open, though she kept her eyes closed of necessity. I poked my cock back in and her lips closed over it, sucking hard, then loosening her tongue and swirling it delicately around my tip.

"Ahhhhh, God Mom, oh my God."

My hips jerked uncontrollably and I grabbed her shoulder to steady myself, squeezing out the last vestige of cum, barely a drop, as Mom's tongue tickled the underside of my tip. Then I hung on just to hold myself up. When I pulled out, Mom got up and quietly left to go upstairs for a shower, ending the most awesome sexual experience of my short life.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Billy called just as we were finishing lunch and I told him I'd call him back.

"You don't need to go over to Billy's," Mom said after I snapped my phone shut.

"He's not that bad, Mom. In fact, he hasn't done anything bad for a while, just like me."

"I know," Mom said. "His mom is helping him so you don't need to."

"Mom, Billy is different than me. He needs outside encouragement."

"Perhaps I wasn't clear. You don't need to help Billy, or his mother. Understand?"

"I don't know..."

"Yes, you do. If you go over there, what happens here is done."

"Mom, I..."

"We don't need to discuss it. It's in the past, like your poor behavior."

I understood things a little differently now. Part of what motivated Mom, other than turning me in a new direction, was jealousy.

"I've arranged something for you to play with that's less dangerous," Mom said. "Susan is coming over tomorrow for another photo shoot. I told her she should have some pics of herself with a handsome young model, remember?"

"Yes, mother," I pouted.

"Don't be like that."

"Okay," I replied.

"Your father is coming home early today. Why don't you help me pick out what I should wear."

"I don't care what you wear for Dad."

"Not for Dad, for you."

"What? I don't get..."

"I want you to tell me what you'd like me to wear, underneath, when your father gets home."

"Oh." My eyes lit up.

"There's no time for that. You've had enough for one day."

"Come on. Let's to see if I have anything interesting."

So I picked out Mom's underwear. She wouldn't let me watch her put it on but later that afternoon and evening, at supper and beyond, I had a constant erection knowing Mom was wearing a black, lacy half bra and matching sexy panties under her skirt and blouse. When Dad wasn't looking, she smiled, pursed her lips, and pouted at me.

Well, Billy could look after himself and his mother was on her own. There was no way I was risking this.

Billy called and complained that he didn't get to blow his wad on his mom's face. All she did was jack him off and she even made him use a condom. Having been intimate with his mom, I was sure if Billy had a bigger dick, she would have done more. She was one horny, unsatisfied lady.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Mom rebuffed me the next morning.

"You have to look fresh and virile for Susan's photo shoot," she explained.

I can handle Susan too, I thought, but hey, at least I wasn't cut off for good. I pushed it anyway, telling she looked good in the short dress that hugged her figure and asked what she was wearing underneath but she wouldn't tell me. I probed for details about her sex life with Dad but she wouldn't talk about it other than to say there wasn't much to talk about.

"He puts all his imagination into his pictures," she sighed.

I surmised that sex with Dad was largely missionary style and maybe, maybe, the odd ride on top but possibly not even that. I wished she'd let me fuck her. I wanted to so badly it hurt. Every minute I was around her I wanted her more.

Our relationship had definitely changed. We had always communicated reasonably well but now she was treating me almost as an equal and spoke to me straight and shamelessly. When I told her she looked so hot in the short dress that I wanted to take it off and lick her all over she just smiled sweetly instead of slapping me for being vulgar.

"I don't care what you say, I'm not letting you do anything until after Susan's photo shoot."

Susan arrived shortly after lunch wearing a cute summer print that advertised her tanned legs and firm body. Her blonde hair bounced around her shoulders as she moved, vying for attention but losing out to her perky breasts. Mom led her directly into the studio, calling for me to follow, and put me to work on the lighting, adjusting lamps and reflectors, but soon incorporated me into the shots.

"Women love to see themselves with younger men," she explained. "Even though they're older, they'll see themselves as you and that will help you get magazine work."

"But the agent suggested I get some pictures with an older man," Susan replied.

"Oh yes, that's great too, for car and golf commercials. Maybe we should get some pictures of you with my husband," Mom mused.

Susan laughed and admonished Mom. "Sandra, that's not nice. Anyway, Jeff's here now." She grasped my upper arm with both of hers and tugged me closer to her side, then slipped her arm around my waist and bumped me with her hip. "How's this?"

Susan launched a huge smile at the camera and Mom immediately took several shots. After that, Mom didn't worry about the lighting and I stayed close to Susan which she didn't seem to mind, keeping in contact by touching my hand or bumping against me. We joked around constantly, forcing Mom to prod us into being serious until she gave up and told us to just have fun in front of the camera. That's when Mom began directing us to adopt increasingly intimate poses. Although Susan didn't resist the instructions I sensed she wouldn't have gone along so easily without Mom's directions.

So instead of posing with my arm around Susan's shoulders or waist, I found myself standing behind her with my hands on her tummy while she leaned forward, pushing her bum into me and smiling either innocently or provocatively at the camera. Then Mom would have her spin around and arch her back over my arms while I leaned over her breasts, both of us laughing gaily, of course.

For some reason, Mom needed to take these shots over and over and somehow, when I helped Susan spin around to face away from me, my hands would slide up her tummy and bump the bottom of her breasts. Once, I kept my hands pressed up, keeping her breasts lifted while Mom took the shot.

"Perfect," Mom cried. "Keep doing that."

She didn't explain what it was we should keep doing but both of us knew what she meant and for every shot after that where Susan was leaning back against me, I held her breasts up, even twisting my hands up to cup them. I became very familiar with her tits, since she wasn't wearing a bra, and the supple buttocks that Susan pressed into my groin without any suggestion from me or Mom. She couldn't have missed the effect she was having on me as several times she brushed sideways only to be halted by the settling of my erection in the crease between her cheeks.

On one shot where Susan was leaning over, bracing her arms on the upholstered bench, while I tucked my body tightly to hers, I urged her slowly forward, my fingers stretching from where my hands pressed against her ribcage, pushing her breasts out as they began to dangle.

"Fantastic," Mom cried and launched the camera on an automatic action series, setting off a rapid series of clicks as Susan fell forward onto her elbows, her breasts brushing over the leather-cushioned bench with my upturned palm underneath just as my hips banged her ass against the end of the bench.

We paused, as if both in a bit of shock over what had just happened. Seizing the moment, I dropped my right arm and, grabbing the hem of Susan's dress, dragged it high up her thigh.

"Lovely," Mom cried, crouching as she came closer, snapping several more shots.

I pulled the dress up onto Susan's hips.

"What sexy lingerie!" Mom exclaimed. She lowered the camera and approached Susan's side, taking hold of her dress and lifting it even higher. "We must get some shots of these," she said.

Mom backed away. "Stand in front of the bench," she demanded.

Susan and I stood in front of the bench, side by side, arms around each other's waist.

"No, no, no," Mom said. "Get behind her, Jeff."

I squeezed behind Susan.

"That's it. Now, Jeff, pull her against you and hold the dress up."

I reached down and started to pull Susan's yellow print up her right thigh.

Mom clicked. "Farther," she said.

I pulled the dress higher.

"Farther."

I pulled the dress up more, slowly, waiting for Mom to say when I should stop. Susan began to tense up as the hem neared the top of her thigh but Mom remained silent, sans instructions. I stopped.

"Higher," Mom whispered.

I raised my hand, dragging the dress up until a pair of black, lacy panties appeared.

"That's it," Mom hissed.

I pulled my hand up another inch.

"Perfect," Mom whispered.

Susan was trembling. So was I, with delight and desire.

"Move your hips around, Susan. Slowly," Mom barked. "That's it, just push out...yes, now pull back...and out again...yeah, keep doing that, in an oval."

The camera clicked. Susan's bum pushed into my cock, rubbed across it and left, then reappeared to tease me again, and again, and again. Mom took so many pictures. She didn't need that many for one pose but neither Susan nor I complained. The dress kept sliding up higher and higher until the bottom swell of one tit peeked out.

"Incredible," Mom whispered, angling the camera up to capture Susan's tit. "Such a natural beauty."

Susan relaxed in my arms.

"Pull it higher," Mom said. "Stay still," she snapped at Susan, freezing her bum on my cock.

"Higher."

I pulled the dress up until Susan's bare breasts flopped free, bouncing, then settling down to a quiver as Mom snapped another dozen shots. The camera lowered.

"Move your feet apart," Mom whispered as the camera focused on Susan's panties.

Susan hesitated.

"Spread your legs!"

Susan opened her thighs and turned her head sideways as if to hide her shame. Mom's camera clicked and clicked. I pulled the dress up to cover Susan's face and thrust forward, my cock digging into the soft firmness of her ass, pushing it out until Mom uttered another superlative.

"Great, that's great."

Mom took pictures for another two minutes while I kept Susan's panties thrust forward and her face covered, my hand covering her covered mouth. Despite the temporary sanctuary, I sensed Susan's face getting red.

"Enough," I said.

"Pull her back and bend her over the end of the bench."

I started to obey.

"Keep the dress up," Mom commanded.

I pressed Susan against the end of the bench and she dutifully leaned forward but, unlike before, her feet were apart, allowing me to fit very snugly into her behind.

"Push the dress up over her head."

I pushed the dress up and Susan stretched her arms out to accommodate. She kept her arms out while I turned the dress inside out onto them, baring the sexy panties and uncovering her breasts which now pressed naked into the leather bench.

"Push her down flat."

I pressed down on the small of Susan's back and she complied with Mom's command. The camera clicked. I pushed against Susan's ass, rubbing my hardness between her soft cheeks.

"Grab her hips."

I put my hands on Susan's bare hips. Click, click, click.

"Stretch her panties out."

I wasn't sure what Mom meant.

"Grab the straps on her hips and pull them out."

I grasped the straps and did as Mom said. I pulled them out and back, effectively denuding Susan's supple ass.

"Good, good." Click, click, click. "Now, pull them back until they're stretched across her thighs, under her bum."

I did it. Rather than stretching tight, the straps hung loosely across Susan's thighs. Her bottom was now bare. I don't know what was holding the panties against her pussy.

"Okay, Jeff. Now, lean forward and grab Mrs. Gordon's hair."

Mom's use of Susan's last name, emphasizing her married status, shocked me. I looked at Mom.

"Grab Mrs. Gordon's hair," she insisted.

I leaned forward and grabbed a handful of Susan's hair.

"Pull her head up," Mom said. "Gently!"

I tugged on Susan's hair and it came up, but only because Susan helped.

"Grab the dress with your other hand and pull it off so we can see Mrs. Gordon's face."

I had to press hard into Susan's ass to lean far enough forward to getl the dress off her head and arms. It was a struggle that my cock enjoyed and Susan endured stoically for at least a minute. I was so hard.

Mom took pictures the whole time and when the dress was off, she instructed me to turn Susan's head this way and that, always referring to her as Mrs. Gordon. Several times, she had me pull Susan back so far it seemed her back would double over, but Mom was satisfied with the effect, lifting Susan's tits from the bench so they thrust out and her very stiff nipples jutted into the air. 


I got so hard I had to loosen the button at the top of my shorts and the zipper immediately spread them wide open and they slid down my legs until only my boxers were covering my huge erection. It bulged against the stretchy, black material and I nestled it against Susan's bare ass just above her matching black panties, still clinging to her pussy.

"Rock against her."

I complied immediately, bulging my cock against Susan's ass repeatedly. The camera click, more of an intrusion now than an excuse or instigation but Susan didn't seem to mind and I let her hair slip from my grasp. Her forehead dropped onto the bench and her bum pushed into me as I slipped the hand that had been holding her hair around to grasp her tit. My other hand flipped the waistband of my boxers down, freeing my cock. I grabbed it and steered it toward Susan's moist pussy.

"STOP!"

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

I was furious with Mom after Susan left. She had as much as offered to get me into Susan's pants and then stopped me right when I was on the verge of success. WTF?

There was only one possible explanation: Mom was jealous and wanted me for herself; only, she couldn't bring herself to go that last step. Well, I would fix that. She must be close to have done what she did, but a little extra attention to the doll wouldn't hurt before turning the heat on Mom to push her over the edge.

I retrieved the doll from under my pillow where I now kept it, totally nude, and started my standard work up: teasing strokes with the dainty paintbrush interspersed with strategically placed licks from the tip of my tongue. I was in a rush to get down to Mom before the erotic glow from the photo shoot wore off but, as it was, I spent too much time on the doll.

"What the hell are you doing?" Mom demanded.

I shrunk into the bed, curling over to hide the doll, but it was way too late for that. Mom grabbed my shoulder and pried me onto my back, exposing the doll I held in one hand. I had let the paintbrush drop but Mom saw it.

"So, you have one of those too, do you?"

I stared at Mom, unmoving, still shell-shocked by her unexpected entrance.

"Where did you get it? From Billy?"

I remained mute.

"Vanessa didn't think Billy would know what to do with it, thought he might stick pins in it, but you knew exactly what to do, didn't you?" Mom accused.

My eyes widened in a dumb expression of ignorance but Mom smiled and reached out to touch the doll.

"It doesn't look much like me," she mused, "but you still thought it would work?" She looked down at my crotch, which for some reason remained swollen, and laughed. "Apparently so."

Mom's hand moved south and smoothed the front of my shorts.

"You're turning your life around, Jeff, and that's the reason for what's happened. A little more than I bargained for but, as long as you stay on track, I'll keep my end of the bargain. You don't need this doll."

Mom pried the doll from my fingers and let it fall onto the bed. She leaned over me, the palm of her hand rubbing and pressing along the underside of my shaft bulging under my shorts.

"Did that little tramp make you hot?" she cooed, dragging her breasts up my chest, her free arm curling around my neck as she buried her face and started nibbling my neck. Her hand pressed harder on my cock and her fingers started undoing my shorts. As soon as my cock was freed Mom captured it in her hand, squeezing tight as she pulled it up into prominence. "You don't need her either," Mom purred.

Mom's lips covered mine and her tongue inserted itself in my mouth, her hand gripping my cock hard.

"I wasn't thinking about her," I gasped when Mom pulled her face up from mine. "I was thinking about you."

"Oh? Were you thinking of that dirty thing you did to me yesterday? You're so bad," Mom rasped, "but that's okay, as long as it's at home."

I could tell by the huskiness of Mom's voice that she was super excited. Her legs had been churning on mine and she suddenly shifted on top of me, bending my cock back and pressing it flat with her tummy. She found my mouth again and kissed me hard, pushing her tongue inside. I found her skirt-covered ass and fondled her cheeks but it humped against me of its own accord without any pressure from my hands.

She was urgent. I needn't have worried about her losing her edge. The excitement instilled by watching me with Susan was still burning, desperate for release. If she wasn't still wearing her skirt and panties, Mom wouldn't be dry humping me, we'd be fucking. She was ready to be taken.

I flipped the skirt up onto Mom's back and grabbed her pantied ass, sucking her tongue deeper into my mouth. After a few multi-fingered digs between her legs along the back of her panties, I yanked them down, baring her ass. Mom moaned and I immediately explored her wet lips while the sound was still fresh in my ears.

Pressing my cock up hard, I wiggled it from side to side until damp groove find its proper place around my shaft. Humping upward, I shifted her onto my fingers squeezing between her ass and the panties stretched across the back of her thighs. Gradually, I worked her farther onto my fingers until her pussy was filled with them. I sucked my gut in to make room for my left hand, squeezed it between our bellies to grasp my cock, and angled it upward until it nudged into her puffy lips at the entrance to the Holy Grail.

"No, Jeff!" Mom cried, suddenly becoming aware of my intention and jerking her hips back to foil me. "We can't, I told you we can't," she wailed, the damp, taboo garden hovering above my yearning tip. "I'm sorry, sweetheart. Anything else, but not that."

"Please, Mom. I need you," I whined, trying through a series of upward stabs to embed myself in the forbidden nectar.

"No, I can't. Let me suck you instead."

Mom tried to slide down but my hand held her ass in place.

"No, I want you," I demanded.

"I'm sorry, honey." She kissed my face, gently, true sorrow filling her face. "I'll let you do that thing again, on my face," she offered.

I shook my head. "No. I don't want to do that anymore."

"Why?" Mom asked. "I don't mind. Really." Her fingers tickled my face.

"Yes you do. I don't know why I did it but I felt bad after."

"But you liked it when you did it, didn't you?"

"Yes," I admitted.

"Did it make you feel strong and manly?" Mom teased, her lips brushing mine.

"I guess."

"Good. I like it when you feel like that, in control of your life, and not stealing cars or painting walls."

"I'd feel really powerful if you let me do you."

"I can't let you do that, Jeff. I'll let you do that other thing, but not that."

"What about drugs?" I played my trump card.

Mom stiffened. "What about them?"

"I won't do drugs if you let me."

There, it was out. I had made my play. We never talked about my sister. It was a taboo subject. Nevertheless, I was dead set against drugs, but Mom didn't know that, not for sure, anyway.

I pushed my hips up until my cock grazed Mom's belly. She relaxed and lowered herself until her moist heat was pressing me flat on my stomach again.

"Don't ever do drugs. You hear me?"

"I won't, Mom, as long as you let me," I whispered, rubbing my cock on her softness, loving her moistness clutching my balls.

"If you do drugs, I'll never talk to you again."

"I won't, Mom."

Mom pulled her hips up and I readied my cock for the sweet entrance. This was going to be glorious, simply glorious.

Mom kept drawing back, then lifted herself onto one knee and swung off my bed.

"And get rid of that silly doll."

She turned and walked out of the room, panties still stretched around bottom of her ass, pushing her skirt down into place.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

I was stunned. I had fucked up, big time, gone for the gold and got dirt. What did I do now? Here I was, having almost won the lottery, sitting on my bed with a big hardon and no way to satisfy it. As the full weight of my failed attempt settled over me, my cock wilted with each pang of regret. Was it all over?

I was at the depth of despair, shoulders hunched and cock limp, when the phone buzzed. It was Billy. Fuck, I didn't want to listen to his whining. I had my own issues to deal with. What the fuck, I opened the phone.

"Hey man, what's happening?"

"Nothing," I said, unable to conceal the sound of my crushing defeat.

"Hey, what's wrong?"

"Nothing," I barked.

"Oh, still can't get your old lady to cough up." He laughed at the implication of his words. "Sorry man, but listen up. This will make you feel better. You remember last time how pissed off I was about Mom not letting me blow my wad on her?"

"Yeah," I replied sullenly. "So what?"

"Well, I just finished giving her a paint job," he chuckled. "And, I mean a two-coater, a real doozer."

"What are you talking about?"

"I covered her, dude, in my paint, my goo," Billy laughed loudly.

"How..."

"She came downstairs last night after Dad went to bed and we started the same old, same old, you know. Eventually, she undid my pants and started to go down on me but I said no, so she says, 'What's up?' so I pull out a lude and say she's been so good to me I have to be honest with her, that I've been doing drubs but this is my last one and I won't do anymore."

"You pulled it out right in front of her?"

"Yeah," Billy giggled. "I remembered I had rubbed the doll's nose in it, saying to myself, if you won't let me blow on you I'll do this right under your fucking nose. Anyway, she looks at it and says, 'I was afraid you might be doing drugs.' So I say, I don't anymore and start to throw it on the table. Then I stops and asks her if she's ever done any and she says 'No' but I can see she's lying, so I says, why don't we do it together, your first and my last? She says 'No' and I say come on, Mom and she finally relents, so we do it."

"You got your old lady to do a lude?"

"Yeah! It was awesome, man. We got all high and giggly and then she starts going over a bit and I got worried for a while but she was okay so I pull her head down and put my cock into her mouth. Well, shit, by this time I'm all soft and everything but her mouth feels good and I start getting hard. What a feeling, pushing your soft cock into a woman's mouth and feeling it get hard while its all warm and wet."

"So, she's pretty listless, right? I start humping but her head's flopping around so I grab it and start pulling it up and down on my cock and I realize this is exactly what I was hoping she would let me do and maybe I can do whatever I want in the state she's in so I start fucking her face for real, really going to town on it. Well, man, she just takes whatever I dish out. Hard, soft, deep, into her cheeks, pulling it out and slapping her face with it, anything I can think of. So I get her around onto her back on the coffee table, with a pillow at one end and her head hanging over it, and start fucking her throat."

"Jesus Christ, Billy."

"Yeah, I know," he cried, misinterpreting my outburst. "Fucking awesome, hey?"

"Yeah, sure," I said.

"Anyway, she doesn't take it too well at first, gagging and stuff, but then she gets used to it and I'm like fucking her face for real man, and then I just unloaded on her. All over. Fuck, it was hot. I covered her face and it looked so fucking hot, then I jacked off and dropped another load on her."

"Jesus Christ, Billy," I repeated, this time the disgust showing through.

"I know, I know," he responded in glee. "That ain't the half of it. I sat on the couch and waited for her to get up but she didn't. She just lay there, covered in my shit, so I went to the bathroom and got a towel and cleaned her up. Thank God the old man didn't wake up and come down. Wouldn't that have been a fucker, to see her like that with my shit all over her face?"

"Yeah, you'd be dead."

"Maybe. Anyway, I clean her up but she's still lying there like that and after a while I start getting horny again. I'm looking at her tits, pushed up through her tight sweater, and I can tell she's not wearing a bra so I pull it up and start playing around. Well, damned if her nips don't perk right up, so I pull her skirt up and start playing with her snooch and she just lays there, man!"

"What did you do? Finger her?"

"Finger her?" Billy guffawed. "I fucked her!"

"You fucked her?" Envy filled my voice.

"Yeah. I picked her up and put her on the couch. I shoved her sweater up so I could grab her tits, pushed her legs way up and got on top of her, yanked her panties off and was in her in two secs, humping away. She wasn't very wet but she got there soon enough."

"Holy Christ," I mumbled, picturing Billy crouched over his sexy-looking mom, legs thrown back over her shoulders, humping up and down.

"I didn't last long," he admitted, "but I had her a second time and that took me a while."

"So you think she'll remember?" I asked, displaying my ignorance of drugs.

"It was just a lude, man. She knew what was happening, she just didn't care."

"So you think she'll let you do it without the drugs?"

"Naw, probably not."

"Too bad," I sympathized but in reality feeling glad.

"We did another one this afternoon after I got home from work and I did her again."

"What?"

"Yeah! Mom likes the ludes. I used to think she was a real bitch, man," he laughed, "and she is... my bitch. I can have her anytime I want, any way I want," he cackled.

"As long as she's on drugs."

"Yeah, probably, but I got lots of drugs. I think I might do her in the ass tonight."

"Goodbye, Billy."

"What, you're still pissed because your old lady won't let you do anything?"

"I don't think you should be giving drugs to your old lady."

"Fuck you. You're just jealous, you wiener. Give me some buck for dope and maybe I'll let you have a crack at her. We can take turns unloading on the bitch," Billy cackled.

I hung up. What an asshole.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Looking around the store, I almost ran out. It seemed eons ago that Billy and I had first come in here but it was just as eerie. Footsteps shuffled toward me from behind the hanging beads although I had entered quietly and there was no door chime. The beads parted and the caricature pushed through. I couldn't help stepping back.

"So, it didn't work and now you want your money back?"

"Yeah, I guess it didn't," I mumbled.

She opened the box. "You didn't stick it full of pins, or nothing, did you?"

"No. I don't hate my mother."

She lifted the doll toward the ceiling, as if there was more light there in which to examine it.

"No, I 'spose not," she said. "Not like that other kid, anyway."

"You want some money back?"

"I guess."

"You guess? Maybe you'd like another try?"

"It doesn't work," I said.

"That's because you need two of them," the caricature said, smiling in a way that somehow made her look less ugly.

"We got two of them. Billy's keeping his."

"That's not what I mean. I mean, you need two to make this one do what you want."

"I don't know what you mean."

"Look at me boy."

I looked at her. It was hard, not because of the way she looked but because her gaze was penetrating.

"I know what you want the doll to do and it can do it, but it needs help."

I gulped. "What kind of help?"

"Like I said, another doll, or I could give you ten bucks for this one."

"Ten bucks, that's all?"

"This is a business, not a charity." Her voice softened, "Tell you what. You try the other doll—I'll give it to you for free—and if it doesn't work, bring them both back and I'll give you twenty bucks."

"I take two dolls, and you'll give me twenty, otherwise you'll only give me ten for this one?" I paraphrased to make sure I understood.

"You got it, sugar." I was treated to a hoarse, smoker's laugh, then seriously, "But you have to promise to give it a good try."

"A good try?"

"You know what I mean."

I blushed.

"Yes, I see you do." The hoarse laugh erupted again. "It worked for that other woman's kid."

She couldn't have meant Billy. I'd already mentioned him.

"Gary?" I asked.

"We don't use no names in here," she was serious again.

"Okay," I said.

Fifteen minutes later I walked out of the store, the doll of Mom in the box, along with another that was a very poor likeness of me.

"The best I can do on short notice," she had said.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

I didn't know what to do with the new doll. I had taken it only because I could get twenty bucks when I brought them both back instead of ten just for the one of Mom. So, I'd wait a few days and take it back.

I avoided Mom as much as possible but still had to eat dinner with her and Dad. She was nice as pie to me but I was sure that was so Dad didn't suspect there was something wrong between us. I was polite but not forthcoming. I simply felt awkward in Mom's presence now and just wanted to get up to my room so I could be alone.

Billy called a couple of times but I ignored him. The only sound in my room was the distant sound of the television downstairs. About ten o'clock my parents came upstairs and took turns using their bathroom, then everything was quiet.

I browsed around on the internet, hung out on a gaming site for a while, then got tired of it and went to bed. I lay there for at least an hour, unable to get to sleep. Frustrated, I got the dolls out of the box, laid them on my bed, and looked at them. How the hell was the extra doll, the one of me, supposed to make the other one work? I didn't get it. Didn't the old witch know how far it had taken me? Despite what Mom said, I didn't believe for a minute she would have done what she had just to stop me from doing graffiti or joy-riding in someone's car and, evidently, even from doing drugs.

So what was I supposed to do with two dolls? Rub them together? I put the one of me on top of Mom but it fell off. Disgruntled, I opened Mom's arms and legs and nestled me between, then pushed Mom's arms and legs around me. The dolls stayed together, with me stretched out in the missionary position on top of Mom, her raised and spread knees keeping me from rolling off.

So what now? I pushed down on the ass of the me-doll, rocking it into the mom-doll, in a simulated fucking motion. Hump, hump, hump.

How fucking ridiculous. I laughed out loud and knocked the dolls apart.

"Shhhhhh, you'll wake your father," Mom whispered.

I whirled around. Mom was gently pushing my door closed, taking great care to be quiet. She turned back to me, smiled, then walked toward me.

"Mind if I sit down?"

I shifted sideways, away from Mom, belatedly seeing that I was leaving the dolls near her beside one of the pillows, but she didn't seem to see them.

"Are you still mad at me?" Mom asked.

"No. I thought you were mad at me."

"I was, but only for a while. I still love you, I'll always love you."

"You're not angry because of what I said?"

"Not any more. I know you were just trying to get something you really wanted." Mom reached out and brushed the side of my face. "I could never stay mad at you sweetie."

"But you said..."

"I know what I said but I also know that you'd never do drugs, not after what happened to your sister, and if you did I would be there to help you. I would never turn you away."

I choked back tears.

"I'm sorry, Mom. I didn't mean what I said."

"I know you didn't, dear," Mom comforted me, leaning down to hug me. "I know you loved your sister."

I put my arms around Mom's shoulders and squeezed her tight. I kissed the side of her face and then hugged her harder.

"I'm sorry I tried to push you. I know you can't. I understand."

"That's all right, baby. Now we know where we stand and we can just carry on from where we left off."


byalwayswantedto©

"Really?" I whispered. It sounded too good to be true.

"Really," Mom assured me, lifting her head and lowering her mouth to engage me in a kiss that was definitely not maternal. Her body shifted, changing from a sitting position to stretch out alongside of me, one leg reaching over the top of mine. When the kiss ended, Mom stroked my face delicately with the fingers of one hand.

"I was afraid you'd be too mad about what I tried to do, and what I did on your...face."

"I told you I understood about that. God forbid, something a little out there once in a while won't hurt me," Mom laughed. "Your father's so boring," she said, stretching out the last word.

"So you really not mad?"

"No. It shocked me but afterward, when I thought about it, it made me feel slutty and kinda sexy."

"Really?"

"Yeah, to be able to get you so worked up, so out of control. It was a rush."

"I was definitely out of control," I laughed.

"I know," Mom whispered, lowering her hand from my face, trailing it down my chest and onto my underwear. "Did you miss me?" she asked, tickling the front of my shorts.

"Did I miss you?" I laughed, lurching in my shorts.

"Oh, I see you did."

Mom scratched my shorts and they immediately lumped up.

"Fast acting," she giggled.

"Only to you," I said.

"Oh, I'm sure," Mom drawled.

"I didn't react that quickly to Susan," I countered.

"That's true," Mom agreed, sucking in her breath. "Do you want me to play with it?" she purred.

"Yes, Mom. I'd love you to play with it."

"You wanted to do Susan, didn't you?"

"Only because I couldn't have you."

"Pffft. You're a young. You'd do her anytime."

"Not if I was doing you."

Mom shifted fully on top of me, then lifted herself and reached down to pull me out of my shorts before dropping her weight onto me. She ground herself onto my cock.

"Really? If I had let you, do me as you say, you wouldn't do it with anyone else?"

"I couldn't," I gasped as mom twisted her pussy on my cock, thinly-veiled by a flimsy set of panties. "I love you."

"I know you do, honey."

Mom rubbed her pussy up and down on my cock, fitting her groove around my shaft, then lifted her shoulders up and wiggled her breasts free of her nightgown.

"Suck them," she whispered.

I filled my mouth with Mom's tits and found her ass with my hands, going directly underneath the nightgown to cover the wisp of panty covering her cheeks. I sucked, thoroughly happy with the world. Mom worked her pussy all over my cock, never forgetting to keep her tits in the best sucking position. Occasionally, she pushed my mouth off to kiss but soon re-engaged her tits and my mouth.

She was getting really horny and didn't seem to mind that I had slid her panties under off her buttocks and didn't protest when I dragged them down her thighs, even pulling the center off her sticky pussy. I plied my fingers between her cheeks, spreading her wet pussy lips, and rubbed the edge of my right index finger the length of her pink slit. Any moment now, I knew, she would crawl up to cover my face with her pussy. A long bout of careful attention to her cunt would reward me with another awesome blowjob and, from what Mom had said, a dousing of her face. Now that I thought about it, I wasn't adverse to doing that. In fact, I was looking forward to it. My cock hardened into granite.

Mom hunched over me and I lost her nipple. She was dry-humping my cock with vigor. I turned my head to the side and was shocked by what I saw.

The dolls were together, one atop the other, and seemed to be moving. I shook my head and stared. No, they were still. It had been my imagination. Funny, the me-doll looked a lot like me now, almost identical, in fact. Weird.

I looked away, then turned back a little. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw both dolls moving, the mom-doll hunching over me much like Mom was doing right now and the one of me lifting its hips up. It looked like they were really fucking. I looked directly at them. There were dead still. Weirder.

I looked away. Mom was really getting into it. She'd need release soon. I slid my hands up to her panties, found the snap and yanked it apart. Another yank and they were gone. Mom was humping the length of my shaft with her bare pussy. I lowered my hand and found her hole, then slipped a couple of fingers inside. With my free hand, I found her spunky entrance and dipped in far enough to cover a fingernail.

"Oh God, this isn't what I came to do," Mom panted.

Hump, hump, hump. I lunged up to meet every grind.

"I didn't mean to, I didn't want to, ohhhhh, Jeff, forgive me, forgive me."

"There's nothing to forgive," I gasped, overwhelmed by the slippery slide of her pussy lips along my shaft. Shit, I didn't want to talk either.

"Forgive me," Mom wailed, forgetting her caution to me about waking Dad.

She lifted herself, quickly found and grasped my cock, then lifted it and deftly slipped it inside her.

"Awwwww, Jesus, that feels good," she cried, throwing her head back and pushing herself forward, shoving her cunt fully onto my cock.

"Mom!" I cried, shocked, thrilled, and scared all at once.

"Sorry, baby. I'm so sorry," Mom panted, her hips moving, thighs tensing and relaxing as she started fucking me.

Mom was gasping for air, sucking it in and expelling it just as quickly. She fell forward, braced herself with her hands on my shoulders, and started humping me madly. Her hips churned as she released a long series of short thrusts accompanied by a constantly clutching, sometimes pulpy and other times muscular cunt, its walls continually sucking or squeezing, always moving, milking my cock.

Mom threw herself back again, slowing her pace, lengthening her thrusts, and let her head drop behind her shoulders.

"Oh, yeah," she wailed.

"Ungghhh, unghhh, unghhh."

I matched her sounds, straining up, striving to keep my cock as deep in her cunt as I could, feeling abandoned as it inevitably slid off and born again each time it returned in triumph before breaking completely away.

I was mumbling.

"What?" Mom asked.

"Nothing, don't...stop!"

"I won't, not ever," Mom cried.

We fucked in silence after that, except for our grunts and groans. Mom kept us going, stopping herself before going over the top but not as often as she somehow kept me from exploding. I was almost exhausted when Mom threw her head back for a final time and released a silent howl, then hunched forward to clutch me in her arms and she felt my own release filling her. We stayed like that for a long time, sweating, chests heaving, groins throbbing out the dregs of our love.

After a long time, Mom rose up, looked to the side, and said, "I thought I told you not to play with dolls."

We must have laughed for five minutes.

"Was that better than spraying it all over my face?" Mom asked.

"Yeah, way better," I admitted, the truth obvious in my voice.

Mom laughed. "But if I feel raunchy, do you think you could handle it?"

"I have no objections," I said.

"That reminds me," Mom said. "What were you doing with your finger?"

"My finger?" I asked, innocently.

"Yes, your finger. It was in my...back there."

"It was?"

"You know damned well it was."

"Sorry." My apology wasn't very convincing.

"I don't think I can get that raunchy," Mom said, sternly.

"I'm sorry, Mom," my apology became halfway sincere. "Maybe we can do another photo shoot with Susan, I mean, Mrs. Gordon."

Mom hugged me and, pressing her face close to mine, whispered in my ear, "I was just kidding."

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

I returned the dolls the day. The old lady smiled knowingly but didn't say a word. I didn't ask for my money back and she didn't offer.

As I was leaving, she said, "That one kid, he's still got his but I don't 'spect it back anytime soon." She cackled at her own joke.

I walked past the mall on my way home, thinking I'd get a small gift for Mom. As I walked down the embankment from the sidewalk behind the mall, I noticed some of our 'artwork' had been painted over. Things change, I mused to myself, and sometimes for the better. In the mall, I stopped in the lingerie shop and the girl helped me pick out something hot 'for my girlfriend'. Wouldn't she have been shocked if she knew who it was really for?

On the way out, I stopped to have a burger. I didn't see them until after I sat down. Gary Robinson and his mom. They were engaged in casual conversation. Gary didn't look nervous at all. In fact, he looked really relaxed. I guess he wasn't afraid of being bullied anymore. Maybe Billy had 'pardoned' him because of his success with the doll. Even Billy could be gracious, I guess.

Gary looked up and saw me as I was leaving. At first, there wasn't any sign of recognition. Then, after he glanced down at the bag I was carrying, he looked at me and smiled. I looked down at my bag and then at the one beside his feet. 'Lady Lingerie' was scrawled in fancy, pink script across both black bags. I nodded and smiled back. His gaze returned to his mother, who was way more attractive than I remembered. Maybe I had just grown up. They looked like they belonged together.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Saturday was golf day. I waited until Dad's car left then crept into Mom's room. She was sleeping on her side with her back to me. I crawled in on Dad's side and waited patiently for my body to warm up before touching her, my erection building slowly in her heat as I listened to her light, measured breathing. It was a gorgeous morning, a good day for golf, for Dad, and for something else for Mom and me.

Mom didn't wake when I touched her, tentatively placing my hand on the inner curve of her waist, then slowly sliding it back and forth, up onto her hip and then back down and up her ribcage, sliding over the outer swell of her breast. She didn't wake when I nestled my hardon between her cheeks, or when I slipped my left hand underneath her to grasp her breast. I'm not sure when she awoke but the first indication was a small whimper when my right hand slid down the front of her pelvis until my palm rested on her mound and my fingers stretched down to tickle her groove.

Several minutes later, she whispered, "Just what do you have in mind, young man?"

"Nothing," I replied.

"Ummhmmmm," Mom responded.

After that, we quietly enjoyed a long, increasingly intense yet casual caress. Eventually, Mom turned around so we could entwine our arms and legs around each other and not long after that, she let me roll on top of her. The long build up did me in. I finished early and flopped on my back. Mom, however, wasn't done. Within minutes she was atop me and rode me at her leisure. She looked so sexy, astride me with her back arched, arms up to push back her hair, hips never still. Ahhh, my mother, my love.

When she was done, lying still beside me, she said, "I think I'll renew your father's golf membership for his birthday."

Mom let me get on top of her one more time before Dad came home.

"Make it good," she said. "It has to last you until tonight."

She threw back her legs and I scrambled up to squat over her, pushing my cock down to enter her, and doing squat thrusts until I was spent and exhausted. Who says the missionary position isn't fun?

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

It happened when I was on my way back from getting another set of sexy lingerie, months later. Mom loved wearing it under her clothes during the evenings and weekends when Dad was home. It got both of so hot our first clash when Dad left or went to bed was always frantic. Anyway, that's when I saw her: Gary's mom. She didn't look so sexy this time. In fact, she looked drawn and frayed, kind of pale, and her hair looked messy. As I walked toward her she bent her head to the side and pulled at it with her right hand. No wonder.

I sat down at her table.

"Hi Mrs. Robinson."

She looked up, faded eyes not recognizing me.

"It's Jeff. Gary and I used to play together."

A flicker.

"Oh yes," she replied, absently. "I remember."

"Is Gary here?" I asked.

"Here? No, he's gone away."

"Gone away? Where?"

Mrs. Robinson straightened up and patted her hair into place.

"Oh, to college," she said.

"College?" Gary was a geek but he wasn't Einstein. "Oh, I see," I said, looking away. I could see in Mrs. Robinson's eyes it wasn't true. "I didn't know he applied," I said.

Mrs. Robinson looked down at the floor, at the bag beside my feet. Her eyes welled up with tears but she didn't cry. She looked back at me and stretched her hands out to grasp mine.

"You're Sandra's boy, aren't you?"

"Yes," I acknowledged.

"That's good. I remember you now. Oh, Jeff. Gary isn't in college. He's left us again, gone into his own little world. He was doing so well, but now... I just don't know what to do. The doctors... they can't... they just don't..." Her voice trailed off and tears streamed down her cheeks and dripped onto the table as she looked down at it.

"He doesn't need doctors," I comforted her. "He needs you."

She looked up.

"He needs his mother," I said, squeezing her hands.

"I wish that were true but I'm afraid I'm the cause of it all." She looked away.

"I don't believe that," I said. "Look where Gary was, how far he'd gone, and you brought him back, didn't you?"

Mrs. Robinson met my eyes, puzzlement turning to dawning realization. She looked at the bag by my feet, then met my eyes again, her own softening with comprehension.

"Of course, you're Sandra's boy," she whispered.

"He needs his mother. Only she can bring him back again."

"How?"

"Get him out of wherever he is and bring him home."

"But he doesn't even recognize me."

Wow, this was way worse than I thought. I had thought Gary had just withdrawn like he had before, afraid to go outside, and that maybe Billy had something to do with it, so I figured if she coud get Gary home and I had a word with Billy, then...

"He won't even look at me. My own son."

"Then pretend you're someone else, only, get him out of there."

"Pretend I'm someone else? Who?"

"I don't know. Tell him you're a friend's Mom and he's supposed to stay with you or something."

Mrs. Robinson's thoughts turned inward. She was thinking, already concocting a plan. She focused on me again. "Yes, of course, I'm his mother. Thank you, Jeff. You're a wonderful boy. Say hello to Sandra for me." She got up. "I've got to go." Her face wasn't aglow but it had purpose.

"You say hi to your mother," she repeated, "and tell her I said she has a wonderful son."

"I will."

Mrs. Robinson hurried away, looking more like the woman I'd seen with my old friend Gary. I got up and ambled out of the mall. I hope it works for you Gary, I thought. You've got a wonderful mother who will be there for you, just like mine.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 










Gary's Mom
byalwayswantedto©

All characters are 18 years or older.

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I was nervous. The School for Culinary Arts was closing, leaving me high and dry for a place to live let alone finishing my diploma. The administration had arranged for me to continue my schooling at the New School for Culinary Arts in Dexton at the end of the summer but I had to vacate my room immediately. My best friend from high school had moved to Dexton but was away at college, but somehow, he found out about my predicament convinced his parents to let me stay at their place. Gary's mom was picking me up today.

I remembered Gary's mom fairly well. She was quite pretty and I'd had a crush on her ever since I could remember but her features were still vague in my mind. She had longish, chestnut colored hair and a nice figure, not skinny but not plump either, and great legs. Breasts, well, what can I say? Gary's mom had nice ones that were on the upper side of medium-sized but struggled to compete with her big, brown bedroom eyes or, for that matter, the pouty lips typically adorned with soft pink lipstick that blended well with a lightly freckled face. Her whole presence screamed I am woman. Well, maybe I remembered her better than fairly well. I distinctly remembered feeling awkward in her presence but knew there was nowhere else I'd rather be.

Now, Gary's dad, he made me uncomfortable. He acted like I wasn't there but managed to make me feel like I was in the way. There was definitely something about me he didn't like but I had never been able to put my finger on it. I was apprehensive at the thought of living in his house but the idea of being around Gary's mom on a daily basis drowned that fear.

Still, I was nervous. What if Gary's mom didn't like me anymore? She had always favored me over Gary's other friends and I was the only one she welcomed for a visit even when Gary wasn't home. As a matter of fact, Gary had faded in my memory but thinking about his mom triggered strong feelings within me.

I paced up and down the hallway of the dorm from the foot of the stairs to the front door where my bags were waiting, on the inside of course; I wasn't about to venture outside until someone I knew was there. I heard a car approaching as I turned from the stairs and picked up my pace. My heels were clicking loudly on the shining, waxed floor when the car stopped in front. I pushed the old door open to look but didn't recognize the car, a new one of a make I didn't know. The driver's door opened and a woman got out.

"Allen?" the pretty woman called.

I nodded and she smiled, becoming instantly radiant. I picked up my bags and struggled through the doorway with them. Mrs. Robinson rushed up the steps.

"Here, let me help you with those."

"I can get them," I protested, but she took one anyway and I continued down the stairs with a suitcase in each hand and one bouncing on its wheels behind me.

She was opening the trunk, looking more beautiful than I remembered in a demure, summery shift that displayed tanned legs to several inches above the knee and matching, bare arms to the shoulders. Her hair fell over her face and she shook her head to fling it back, stooping to keep it from falling forward again.

"I'm sorry I'm so late. The traffic was just brutal." She glanced at me and then looked back at the car, fumbling with the key. "Oh, shit. I forgot," she exclaimed, straightening up. She pointed the keys at the trunk and pinched a button in her hand. The trunk popped up and she turned to me, laughing. "I'm such a ditz sometimes. I should be blonde."

We stuffed my bags in the trunk and Gary's mom gave me a hug.

"Anything else? Is that all?"

I nodded, feeling a little overwhelmed.

"Still a big talker, hey?"

I nodded again and she laughed as she walked around the car.

"It's open," she said.

I ran around and got into the car. She pulled away immediately and adeptly sped through the few cars in the curved driveway, paused briefly at the entrance to the college before turning right, and peeled away.

"I'm glad we heard about your situation, Allen, and I'm so happy you agreed to stay with us."

"I hope I'm not a bother," I said.

"Nonsense," Gary's mom cried. "I'm so bored at home. We'll have so much fun." She flashed her smile, then looked back at the road as she steered around a car that was doing the speed limit but was still too slow for her. "You can teach me to cook," she laughed.

"Yes, of course," I replied, then added, "not that you can't..."

"Oh, Allen," she said, dropping her right hand away from the steering wheel to cover mine.

Despite the thrill of her warm skin, I looked nervously at the road. She patted my hand.

"I'm so looking forward to this."

She stomped on her brakes, swerved and swore, lifting her hand from mine to make a gesture.

"Oops, I'd better drive and not talk for awhile."

I settled into corner near the door, angling myself so I could observe Mrs. Robinson, pushing back into the seat out of her line of sight to make myself less obvious. I needn't have worried. Gary's mom threw her attention into driving even faster as she maneuvered the car down the road as if it was an obstacle course. No wonder Gary had never learned to drive.

Not that I was unhappy. The way she drove let me refresh my memory with her bodily delights. Mrs. Robinson was truly an attractive woman whose physical attributes matched the effervescence of her personality. Her arms were firm and not flabby though there was little evidence of weight-lifting to attain such perfect form. Her legs, were similarly unmuscled yet looked strong and lithe. She was a natural.

The hem of her dress had slipped up her thighs and continued to creep upwards a tiny bit with every movement of her feet on the gas pedal or the brake. Tiny blondish hairs glinted in the sun for the very inside of her upper thighs which were an unblemished expanse of the softest-looking skin.

Mrs. Robinson said something and I jerked my eyes up in panic at getting caught staring at her legs but she was looking to the left, muttering at another driver as she passed him on the right. Her hand lifted from the wheel, delightfully, because it lifted her breasts momentarily, outlining their wonderful shape as they pressed against the summer dress. I hoped it was a long drive to Dexton. I couldn't remember how far it was.

Sometime later, Mrs. Robinson pulled off the road into a quaint looking gas station. We had been traveling along a scenic road beside a lake for some miles after a frantic hour on the interstate. Not needing to watch the road so intensely, and unable to find anyone to pass, Gary's mom had slowed down and caught me looking at her several times. I had blushed the first couple of times and tried to keep my eyes on the road ahead but each time they strayed back. She didn't seem to mind and I gradually lost my discomfort while I talked to her as an excuse to be looking her way. She remarked on my chattiness, teasing me that it was about time I broke out of my shell.

"But be careful," she cautioned with a good-natured laugh, "or those girls will make a meal out of a good-looking boy like you."

That made me blush. Did she really think I was good-looking? I couldn't remember anyone ever saying that about me.

After getting some gas, we bought some ice cream cones and left. Mrs. Robinson drove at a relaxed pace as she licked her cone.

"Try it," she said, offering her cone to me.

I shook my head and she withdrew it. Immediately, I regretted my decision. Fortunately, she read my face and offered the cone to me again. I leaned toward her and licked her cone. It was good.

"Yum," I said.

"Have another," she replied.

I leaned toward her again but she pulled the cone back an inch. I leaned further and she pulled it away again, laughing. I had forgotten how much she loved to tease. I lunged forward and caught the cone, inadvertently sliding my tongue over her fingers wrapped around the base.

"Yum again," I chuckled, nervously covering up my innocent indiscretion.

"I hope that tasted good," she said and I flushed red as I realized she was aware that I had licked her fingers.

"Let me try yours," she demanded, kindly directing her attention away from my embarrassed face.

I offered my cone. Mrs. Robinson stretched her neck out and opened her mouth but not far enough to reach the cone. I leaned closer but she moved back a bit so I released my seatbelt and shifted into the middle of the seat. I touched the ice cream to her lips and she treated it to a small stab of her tongue, licked her lips, then lavished the cone and my fingers with a long, wet scrape of her tongue. She giggled as she closed her mouth to stop the melting ice cream from leaking away but couldn't prevent a drop from dribbling down her chin. I peeled the napkin from the base of the cone and used it to dab the drip before it fell on her dress.

"Thank you, sir."

"You're welcome," I answered, leaning back, feeling somewhat absolved.

"More," she insisted.

I tilted the cone toward Mrs. Robinson's mouth. Just before reaching her outstretched lips, the top scoop teetered forward. Quickly, I swung my hand in and up to break its fall but it toppled anyway and bounced off her chin before plummeting downward. Happily, the forward motion of Mrs. Robinson's chin as she tried to shove the wayward scoop back onto the cone pushed it into an arc that missed her dress. The blob of butterscotch ripple settled into the crease between her thighs near the hem of her dress.

"Oohhh, that's cold," Gary's mom giggled. "Quick, get it out!"

I stared at the ice cream already starting to melt between her hot thighs.

"Grab it G..., Allen, quick."

I reached down and, digging my fingers underneath, tried to lift the ball of ice cream but it skidded further up her legs instead.

"Whoa! Don't get it on my dress," she cried, dropping the hand holding her own cone down to drag the dress away from the ice cream with her three outer fingers.

Three things happened. First, the remaining rum and butter ice cream in Mrs. Robinson's cone fell out onto the offending scoop from my cone. Second, Mrs. Robinson's dress skidded up her thighs until a narrow strip of panty appeared. Third, my mind stopped working.

"Allen. I have to drive. You have to get the ice cream off my legs."

My eyes were locked onto the narrow strip of panty stretched over a puffy expanse of very female anatomy characteristically demarcated by an intriguing central groove.

"Allen."

"Allen!"

"Yes," I answered thickly.

"Don't push, scoop it back."

"Okay."

I turned my fingers around and used them like a hoe, digging the tips between her legs and lifting a finger full of ice cream up and out. I looked around for somewhere to get rid of it, then popped it into my mouth.

I lowered my hand to get some more. I looked at the mess between her legs but my eyes quickly glued onto the strip of pink panty again. Following my eyes and erroneously thinking her dress was in the way, Mrs. Robinson pulled it up further until the whole strip of underwear was revealed and a narrow expanse of sexy, pouting tummy above it. Tentatively, I put my fingers on her legs, close to the panty, and dug them in the groove of her pressed-together thighs, then scooped backwards to retrieve another batch of ice cream. About to get rid of it like before, in my mouth, Mrs. Robinson stopped me.

"Hey."

Startled, I looked to see her waiting with an open mouth. I turned my hand around and ladled the ice cream onto her protruding tongue and inadvertently followed it inside to keep the ice cream from falling off. Her lips closed over my fingers before I could pull them out and she sucked them. I froze, shocked, until she mumbled for me to pull my fingers out. I did but she didn't loosen her hold to make it easy.

"That was good," she said when my fingers were finally free. "Get the rest of it."

I was disappointed when I looked down. There was hardly any ice cream left. It had almost all melted into her legs.

"There isn't much left," I said.

"That's too bad," Gary's mom laughed. "They're good together. I think we've discovered a new flavor."

I laughed too as I dug my fingers between her thighs again, almost touching the pink panty, and dragged them away too slowly. I lifted the little there was left to Mrs. Robinson's lips and, this time, I moved my fingers over her warm tongue to help her clean it off.

"Mmmmmmm," she murmured.

"Last one," I said.

"Awwww."

Why hadn't I said there was more. She wasn't counting. When I pulled away to return to my seat, her voice stopped me.

"Can you use this to clean my legs while I drive?"

I leapt at the chance, taking the proffered napkin and immediately began wiping her legs.

"Gently," she said. "I'm not a table."

So for several minutes, we drove down the country road while I sat next to Gary's mom, licking the napkin and rubbing it gently up and down her thighs, but I didn't dare brush against her panty again.

"Thank you, Allen. You'd better buckle up, we're coming into town."

I wondered how long she would have let me fondle her legs if the town hadn't come. It wasn't until I buckled my seatbelt that I noticed my robust erection. Startled, I glanced at Gary's mom but she seemed oblivious. Seeing her dress still bunched up on her lap didn't do anything to relieve the pressure in my pants and it wasn't until we pulled into the driveway that she pulled the dress down.

She turned off the engine and twisted my way.

"Welcome home, Allen."

Perhaps she was trying to make me feel at home to brace me for the cool reception I received from Mr. Robinson. He didn't outright object to my presence but was obviously not thrilled with it either.

"He's getting grumpier every year," Mrs. Robinson whispered as she led me to the spare room downstairs in the basement. "Do what Gary does and act like he isn't even here," she suggested.

"Gary doesn't get along with his dad?" I asked, surprised. Gary used to love playing ball with his father.

"They grew apart," Mrs. Robinson said, then added, "it wasn't Gary's fault."

I would have liked to hear more but she didn't offer any further explanation. I decided it wasn't my business and settled for watching Mrs. Robinson's bottom as she descended the stairs ahead of me. She directed me to a large room that used to be a big, open play area when Gary and I were younger but had been finished into a large bedroom. Gary's mom deposited my suitcase on the bed and I set the others down near it.

"What do you think?" she asked, slowly waving her arm in a wide arc.

"It's great, awesome," I said.

"I'm glad you like it," she said, clearly pleased. She had obviously gone to a lot of work to make it nice.

"There's an Ipod dock and speakers there, and the TV, of course," she indicated the flat screen mounted on the wall, "with a blueray player, and a laptop."

I was blown away. "I don't know what to say," I said, overwhelmed by her kindness.

"Don't say anything," she said. "If anyone deserves it, you do."

I didn't follow her logic but when she stepped close to me and rose up on her toes and kissed me on the lips, all potential argument melted away. She was gone in an instant and I was left wondering if she really had kissed me on the mouth but the tingle on my lips and the lingering press of her breasts against my chest were hard to ignore. I found myself wishing Gary would never come home. I had to get Mr. Robinson to like me, or at least not dislike me, so I could stay forever.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

That proved to be a difficult task. Mr. Robinson barely spoke at dinner other than asking to have the potatoes passed and even then, he didn't ask me. Afterward, while helping Mrs. Robinson clean up in the kitchen, more to avoid being alone with her husband in the living room, she advised me to ignore him until he started to warm up to me on his own.

"He'll come around," she said. "He just doesn't like change. Anyway, Gary and I want you here, so he'll just have to adapt."

I barely heard the last part because when she said, 'Gary and I want you here', she had nudged her knee against mine. At that particular instant, Mr. Robinson happened to come into the kitchen. He deposited his empty dessert plate on the counter and turned to go away, looking even grumpier than he had at dinner. I was sure he had seen Mrs. Robinson rub her leg against mine.

"Can we at least have some coffee?" Mr. Robinson asked, though it didn't sound like a question.

"Sure, honey," Mrs. Robinson replied sweetly.

As he passed through the doorway, Mrs. Robinson nudged my knee again with hers as if it were a secret method of communication she had devised just for us. The next few days were like that. Mrs. Robinson always found ways to make me aware of her, usually by nudging me with her knee but also by placing her hand on my arm or, a couple of times, stretching her foot out to poke my leg when I was sitting on the same couch as her.

She would ask me to fetch or do something for her, like asking me to check the patio for dishes when she was loading the dishwasher. That was okay. I could go that far outside by myself when someone I knew was close but then she asked me to go farther afield, still in the yard, but out to the very end to get a hand trowel from the shed or to move the sprinkler. I handled those quite well. I was a mess inside the first couple of times but managed to hide it from Mrs. Robinson. She was always very pleased when I finished one of her little tasks, and spoke to me in a flirty voice and rewarded me with an intimate hug which I loved.

Still, I found myself trying to avoid Mrs. Robinson when her husband was home. That was hard to do because she had begun to wear dresses of thinner material that hugged her body so closely it didn't look like she was wearing any underwear, or at least, stuff that was so flimsy it didn't show through her clothes. The lack of undergarments on her upper body was obvious because the summer dresses she favored were the type with a loose, low neckline that separated into wide straps that curved over her shoulders before joining again low on her back, under a wide expanse of bare skin.

My nervousness about Mr. Robinson's presence wasn't so much that she flirted with me when he wasn't around but rather that she didn't stop even when he was there. True she didn't flirt as overtly but she still did it. I wasn't afraid that Mr. Robinson would get violent but rather that he would make me leave.

Mrs. Robinson's more muted flirting in her husband's presence was usually something like adopting a provocative posture such as reclining on the couch in a way that presented a long expanse of bare leg, or sitting in a way that forced one of her breasts to thrust against her dress to starkly define its form. If I wasn't looking, she would make a movement or a sound to draw my attention.

One way or another, I was in a constant state of arousal, whether walking around or sitting down. I gave up trying to hide the affect she had on me, that is, to hide my erections, at least from her. It was impossible because I always had one to some degree. When it was harder, usually after an extended display of some part of her body, covered yet not hidden by clothing carefully chosen to be incapable of true disguise, or the casual nudge or light touch of her hand which was becoming more frequent and lingering.

It was on one such occasion, that Mrs. Robinson was lying on the couch with her feet stretched out along it, while Mr. Robinson sat in the chair behind her and I in another across the room. She raised her knees up and that caused her dress to fall from her knees and slide way down her thighs. I hadn't seen so much of her legs since the day she drove me home but this time my vantage point allowed me to see the glorious curve on the underside of her leg from the knee down as it thickened into her ass. 

Almost instantly, I became rock hard and peered over the top of my book at the backside of her legs. Mr. Robinson grunted. I glanced at him, guilt flooding through me. The set of his jaw was stern but he wasn't looking at me. I had the feeling he was aware of the state of his wife's dress. I looked back to enjoy it anyway. I simply could not avert my eyes for more than a few seconds.

Mrs. Robinson lifted one foot up and stretched her leg out until her toes pointed toward the upper corner of the room, tensing her calf prettily. Slowly, she let it settle back into its former place. A few minutes later, she repeated the exercise with her other foot. Over the next half hour, she did this several times and my cock got harder and harder.

Once, she let her knees fall apart, opening her legs wide. Sitting directly to her side as I was, I couldn't see between her legs but I imagined what it would look like anyway and almost came in my pants picturing her exposed pussy, or better, one hidden only by that narrow strip of pink panty I had seen in the car with tufts of chestnut hair peeking out the sides.

I was not particularly interested in sex and wasn't one to seek porn on the internet but I wanted to fuck this woman so badly I leaked in my underwear. Mrs. Robinson eventually pulled her dress up closer to her knees and braced it with the book she was reading. A few minutes later, she looked over at me and asked if the book I was reading was good, then asked I wanted some tea. I declined, saying I was tired and wanted to get an early night.

After I went downstairs, I heard Mr. and Mrs. Robinson talking. He didn't sound happy and whatever she was saying in response didn't ease his mood. Sometime after the altercation ended, I was in bed with the lamp turned on its lowest setting, watching TV with the sound down while my hand absently twiddled with my cock which I had long ago emptied into the toilet. Mrs. Robinson entered the room and moved quickly to the bedside.

"You're sure you don't want some tea, Allen?" she asked.

I shook my head, barely able to speak. Mrs. Robinson had changed into her bed attire, a long nightgown that flowed around her legs as she walked. The top was the same shape as the dresses she liked: wide shoulder straps bordering a low neckline. She bent down over me.

"You forgot to give me a kiss goodnight," she said, hovering over me with pouting lips and dangling breasts.

"I didn't know... but, we haven't..."

"I know, but we should start. I've been trying so hard to make you feel comfortable, to feel at home. You do like me, don't you, Allen?"

"Yes, of course," I stammered.

"Then, kiss me."

I stretched up and brought my lips to hers, giving her a quick kiss. Mrs. Robinson followed me down as I sank back into the pillow, her lips regaining contact with mine. She kissed me more firmly on the lips but it lasted only a little longer than mine. She pulled up an inch or so.

"Is that all?" she asked, her breasts brushing my chest.

"I... I, uh, I..."

Mrs. Robinson stood up.

"Goodnight, Allen."

"Goodnight, Mrs. Robinson."

"In real life, Allen, you have to reach for what you want and, if at first you don't succeed, you must try again."

Mrs. Robinson walked away. Her back was bare and the filmy nightgown couldn't hide the fact that nothing else covered her bottom. I guess I was supposed to think about what she meant but my thoughts were captured by her derriere.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The next morning, Mrs. Robinson wore a short skirt and t-shirt top that curled around her neck but left her breasts hardly covered. Mr. Robinson looked even less pleased than he had the night before. He seemed torn after breakfast, looking reluctant to leave but sufficiently angry to stomp out of the house, though he left without saying anything.

Mrs. Robinson went out into the backyard to sit in the sun but I stayed inside, afraid that Mr. Robinson would return, angry enough for action. After an hour or so he hadn't come back and my desire got the better of me. I went outside and sat on the lounge next to Mrs. Robinson. She was reading but as soon as I sat down she dropped her book and started rubbing oil on her legs. It was extremely erotic, the more so because I knew she was putting on a show for me. I wanted to touch her, to offer my services to apply the oil for her, but I couldn't summon the courage to do it.

After her legs were done, Mrs. Robinson did her arms. She applied the oil in long, slow strokes, much as she'd done her legs. My cock was burning but it got even harder when her hands slipped under the lapel of her shirt to bathe the inner swells of her breasts with oil. Mrs. Robinson lifted the material away and rubbed the oil over her breasts and paid no attention to her enraptured audience who was staring openly at her partly bared breasts. She surprised me when she suddenly swung her legs toward me and sat up, looking directly at me. Boldly, though I felt no courage, I didn't look away.

"You're starting to come along, Allen."

I didn't know what to say or do. I thought I knew what she was talking about but was afraid to acknowledge it. Luckily, she relieved me of the obligation to respond.

"I'm hungry. Should we have some lunch?"

I nodded, relieved.

There was no further teasing that day until after supper when Mrs. Robinson repeated the leg show on the couch. Mr. Robinson seemed particularly unhappy but after I went to bed, surprisingly, there were no angry voices.

This time, when she leaned down to kiss me goodnight, I tried for a longer kiss and even reached up to lightly grasp her shoulders when she started to pull away in an effort to keep the weight of her breasts on my chest.

"Do you like kissing me, Allen?"

"Yes."

"Do you like looking at my legs while I'm reading?"

I thought about denying it but her expression demanded honesty.

"Yes."

"Gary's father doesn't like it."

"I know," I acknowledged.

"But you look anyway?"

"I can't help it," I admitted, blushing.

"That's alright, Allen. I don't mind."

"You don't?"

"No. It makes me feel pretty and warm inside."

"It does?"

"Yes."

Mrs. Robinson leaned down to kiss me briefly again, increasing the weight of her breasts on my chest so much I felt them flatten out.

"Do you feel warm inside when you watch me?"

I blushed again.

"Yes."

"Good," Mrs. Robinson whispered, "but you're not allowed to look at my legs again unless you do something for me."

"What?" I asked.

"Go to the store for me to get a few things."

"By myself?"

"Yes. By yourself, but it's only to the corner store. You can do that for me, can't you?"

Mrs. Robinson's breasts became heavier and her lips nuzzled mine.

"Yes," I gasped.

"Good," she sighed, and kissed me, lingering longer than before.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The next day, I went to the corner store and returned with a small carton of milk. I didn't tell Mrs. Robinson that I ran all the way back and she didn't ask why I was breathing so hard. I was disappointed that she had changed from the short skirt she had been wearing into a longer dress. She noticed me looking at her covered legs.

"Tonight, Allen, after Mr. Robinson gets home."

My disappointment showed.

"There, there. You can wait for a few hours, can't you?"

The sadness that had enveloped me did not diminish with her promise. I had gone all the way to the store, on my own. I was expecting an immediate reward.

Mrs. Robinson relented. "Would you like a quick peek?"

I nodded enthusiastically.

Mrs. Robinson bent over slightly and grasped the hem of her skirt. She lifted it up a bit, smiling when my eyes became more intense.

"You do like my legs, don't you, Allen?"

"Yes."

The dress lifted higher, half way up her thighs.

"Do you really like them?"

"Yes, I really like them."

Higher.

"Really, really like them?"

"Yes, I really, really, really like them."

"That much?" Mrs. Robinson laughed. "Oh, my."

I forgot to nod because her hand had continued to pull the dress up, and up, and up, and finally bared the lower part of her panties, yellow ones this time. The dress kept rising until Mrs. Robinson's belly appeared and the arms of the panties arching over her hips.

"Do you like my panties, Allen?"

I nodded speechless as Mrs. Robinson twisted her torso very slowly, just far enough to show the jut of her ass before turning back.

"Would like me to wear them tonight, or do you prefer the pink ones?"

"Yes." I couldn't believe her admission that she knew I had seen the panties she had worn the day she picked me up.

"With Mr. Robinson sitting right behind me?"

My cock lurched at her acknowledgement that she had knowingly teased me in front of her husband.

"Yeah!"

"Okay, if you really want me to."

Mrs. Robinson dropped the dress, walked over, and leaned against me.

"It does make me feel warm inside when you look at me like that."

She stretched up on her toes and kissed me.

"I think it would be safer if you went to your room until supper."

I didn't want to but I did as she asked.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

That night, Gary's mom put on a very good show. She managed to rub her legs and feet together which was very sexy. Her legs seemed to have been oiled which reminded me of the day she had oiled them in front of me, and her breasts. When she parted her legs, I vividly imagined the tiny yellow panties stretching over her pussy and, this time, I knew there wasn't enough hair to peek out the sides. From what I'd seen that morning, there might not be any hair there at all.

Near the end, she turned to look at me, casting her eyes behind her as if to ask if her husband was watching. I shook my head in minute denial. Her hand grasped the hem of her dress on my side and pulled it up and over her hip. There were no panty arms. She wasn't wearing any underwear!

Later, when she came down to kiss me goodnight, I couldn't hide the thrust of my erection under the blankets. When she looked at it, it became even harder.

"Do I make you feel that good, Allen?"

"Yes."

"Good, because tomorrow, I want you to do something else for me."

"Go to the store?"

"Yes."

Gary's mom leaned over me. The nightgown she wore tonight was cut lower and her breasts were almost falling out.

"But this time, I want you to get some new running shoes for yourself. I'll give you the money."

"Running shoes? From where?"

"The mall."

Fear rose up and grabbed my heart in its fist. I started to shake. Mrs. Robinson leaned close until her breasts grazed my chest and hung in front of my face.

"Allen. Focus."

"The mall is a long way. I don't know..."

Mrs. Robinson stretched her leg out and put her foot onto the bed.

"It's only a few blocks. Do you want to feel how warm you make me?" she husked.

I couldn't speak but my eyes provided an answer. Gary's mom climbed over me and lowered herself full length onto my body. I could feel her warmth even through the covers, especially the heat emanating from her groin.

"Can you feel it, Allen?"

"Yes."

I was so excited, I forgot about the mall. Her groin was positioned directly over mine, her pussy pressing against my erection. My cock twitched.

"Will you go to the mall for me, Allen?"

My cock twitched again.

"Will you let me feel how warm you are every time we kiss goodnight?"

She laughed. "Allen, that's very good. You should ask when you want something, even if you can't have it."

"You mean, I can't?"

"I didn't say that. Usually people don't get what they want so you have to pick the right time to ask, like now, when you have something to trade. You have to go to the mall first."

"Okay," I responded, bravely.

I put my hands on Mrs. Robinson's shoulders so she wouldn't pull away. I pushed up, holding tight but instead of pulling away, she pressed down.

"Kiss me," she whispered.

While I kissed her, our private parts pressed together through the blanket. My hands slipped from her shoulders and cupped the sides of her breasts which were flattened on my chest. I couldn't squeeze under them and didn't really try. Maybe one day I would ask if I could see them. A fleeting sense of unease passed through my mind. Why was Gary's mom doing this? She never had before, at least, not that I could remember. Then, Mrs. Robinson's mouth moved on mine and my discomfort dissipated.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The guy in the sports store thought I was weird. I had stumbled in and handed him the money Mrs. Robinson had given me, barking, "I need some running shoes," before slumping into a chair. He measured my foot while I struggled to control my dizziness and tried to look like I was simply disinterested.

I looked at the open entrance to the store. Run out, my mind screamed, but another part, the bit that had been activated by Mrs. Robinson's suggestive behavior, exerted more control. You've come this far, suffered this much, if you run it will all be for nothing. You can do it, and think of the reward, think of what's waiting for you at home.

I pictured Mrs. Robinson reclining on the couch, legs fully displayed, calling to me despite her husband's presence. My mind discorporated from my body and swung around until I was gazing between her widespread knees, observing her pink panties between the fingers of a hand placed more to attract than obscure. From what I could see of them, the panties were alive. Mrs. Robinson was speaking but I could barely hear her, Act normal, Allen. You can do it if you try. Do it for me. Her other hand stroked slowly up and down the inside of her thighs.

"Would you like to take these, sir?"

I looked at the salesman and my head suddenly cleared.

"Yes," I replied. "I'll wear them."

"Okay, I'll box these up for you," he said, lifting my old shoes.

"That won't be necessary. Just throw them away for me," I said.

"But they're almost new," the salesman protested.

"I was just kidding," I laughed.

It wasn't normal to leave your shoes behind when you bought new ones, or to tell the salesman to keep the change which is what I was about to do in my hurry to leave. Painful as it was, I waited patiently for the man to put my shoes in the box for the new runners, ring up the sale, and hand me the change. I didn't even run out of the store and, surprisingly, I didn't hurry out of the mall. In fact, I strolled home at a leisurely pace, my head full of thoughts about Mrs. Robinson. I can do this, I could do anything, for her.

I was crushed to see Mr. Robinson's car parked in the drive when I got home. I went around back, planning to enter through the kitchen in order to avoid him but as I approached the back door, I heard voices through the open window.

"You're going too far, Joan. It's going to get out of control."

"I know what I'm doing."

"Do you? You're constantly flirting with him, and showing off your legs like that on the couch, for God's sake."

"I was not showing off my legs. I was just reading."

"Joan!"

"Okay, so I was flashing my legs. So what? Do you know he went to the store to get milk yesterday, and do you know where he is right now?"

"No."

"I'll tell you where. He's gone to the mall to get a pair of running shoes." The triumph in Mrs. Robinson's voice was palpable.

"Joan, for Christ's sake, you didn't send him to the mall by himself. Jesus H. Christ!"

"He'll be fine."

"That's too much. It's too soon." Heavy footsteps receded.

"Don't you dare go down there. You'll ruin everything I've done."

"He can't do that. It's too much," Mr. Robinson cried, surprising me with his obvious concern for my welfare.

"He can, and he will. He'll do it for me."

"Why? Do you think flashing your silly legs can overcome..."

"Shut up! You promised me you wouldn't talk about that."

Panicked by the threat of an imminent physical confrontation, I beat a hasty retreat, running around to the front of the house, the first time I had used my new runners for what they were meant to do. I took a deep breath and opened the door. The muffled words became louder but immediately stopped.

"Hi, I'm home."

Mrs. Robinson beamed while I showed off my new runners but she couldn't have looked at me with more interest that Mr. Robinson. He seemed to be truly amazed. Why? It wasn't that big a deal to go to the mall. In fact, I was going to ask his wife tonight if she wanted me to get anything else for her tomorrow. Boy, if he was mad about her showing off her legs, he'd go ballistic if he saw her lying on top of me. But right now, he didn't seem the least bit mad. In fact, he seemed tremendously pleased and I felt a little guilty.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

We had been kissing and nuzzling for several minutes. My hands had slid down Mrs. Robinson's shoulders onto her back and I was lightly brushing my fingers over the bare skin there. Every time I urged my hardon upward, I kissed her for a distraction. Still, I knew she was aware of the effort to satisfy my carnal urges and perhaps excite her into doing more than she intended.

Clearly, Mrs. Robinson had set her mind to relieving her son's friend of his minor affliction, my fear of being alone, especially outside or in crowded places, by using her charms as the candy of persuasion. Well, it had worked and I intended for it to keep on working as long as more treats were offered. I thought about offering to fetch additional things from the mall but then worried that my interests might be better served if there was still doubt about the continued success of my cure.

Mrs. Robinson pressed her knees into the mattress beside me to lift her pelvis up, away from my searching hardness.

"I was really scared there for a while," I said, sliding my hands down to the middle of her back and applying gentle downward pressure, urging her center to return.

"But you overcame it," she responded, pride in our mutual accomplishment evident in her voice.

"I almost didn't," I said. "I almost ran back."

"Really?"

"Yes," I said, without offering further explanation.

Mrs. Robinson looked concerned. I chose that instant to bulge my cock upwards while pressing my hands firmly into her back.

"But you managed to compose yourself?" She succumbed to the pressure of my hands.

"Yes. I thought of you, and being here with you like this." I pushed my erection up and she didn't pull away. "That's the only thing that saved me."

"See, you can do it."

"Only because of you," I whispered, tugging on her waist and moving my hardon around. "I couldn't do it if it wasn't for you."

"No, you did it on your own. You don't need me."

"Yes, I do."

"Allen, Mr. Robinson is getting very suspicious. I really shouldn't have let our little flirting game go so far."

"I can't do it without your help. I'll go again tomorrow but I can't unless you promise you'll keep helping me."

"I can't help you forever, just until you're comfortable on your own."

"Thanks, Mrs. Robinson."

I pushed up for another muted grind and covered myself with more talk.

"Mr. Robinson wants me to do it to. I think he likes me better now."

"Of course he does," Mrs. Robinson said, holding my face in her soft hands.

"I didn't think he did before," I said, and engaged her in a kiss.

For the first time, I slipped the tip of my tongue between Mrs. Robinson's lips, fully expecting to be rejected. I wasn't. It felt so great, I almost forgot to press my erection into her belly. Almost.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

"You got everything?" Mrs. Robinson exclaimed, looking at the pile of cosmetics I had emptied onto the counter after coming in through the back door. "From all those different stores?"


Despite my success the day before, Gary's mom was somewhat amazed.

"You know why," I whispered, closing in behind her to nudge the back of her knee with mine.

Her eyes darted toward the living room where Mr. Robinson was enjoying the evening news. She straightened her legs and I knelt behind her, poking in both knees, causing her legs to bend and her rump to press back, right into my waiting, tented groin. She would have had to be drugged or asleep not to feel my erection which had been growing all the way from the mall. I used her partial fall as an excuse to catch her, my hands pressing against the sides of her breasts. I kissed the side of her face.

"Allen, don't!" she whispered, quickly turning around.

"One little kiss for my reward," I whispered back, pulling her toward me and seeking her lips.

"Mr. Robinson is right there," she protested.

"I don't care," I insisted, my lips landing on hers.

"Shhhhh, be quiet."

I plied her lips with mine and then slipped my tongue into her mouth. Mrs. Robinson resisted briefly but I knotted a handful of hair behind her neck to prevent her from pulling away. After a few seconds, she relaxed but I waited until the end of the kiss before sliding my palm over the front of her left breast. Mrs. Robinson didn't protest and, luckily, she had just turned around to survey the collection of cosmetics when Mr. Robinson entered the kitchen.

"What's this, then? Another successful shopping foray?"

"Yes. Allen picked all of this up for me at the mall today, and everything is from a different store." Mrs. Robinson didn't point out that all the stores from the same section in the outer ring of the main level at the mall.

"Really? That's very impressive. I told your mother it was just a temporary thing."

Mrs. Robinson's eyes shot daggers at her husband.

"I mean, this fear of going out, it was... uh, but you've made an amazing recovery, simply amazing."

"Yes. I think I might be able to keep it up, with a little help." I skirted around Mr. Robinson's indiscretion of mentioning my mother. He knew my parents were dead, and Mrs. Robinson's reaction indicated she was worried that I would find talk about my parents difficult to handle.

Mr. Robinson awkwardly tried to change the subject, "The change in scenery probably helps, I mean, getting out of the h... school."

"Yes, simply amazing," Mrs. Robinson broke in. "Allen has made tremendous progress, but we should try a few more times before we count our chickens." She shot her husband a dirty look and dismissed him before he did further damage, "I think the news is back on."

After he was gone, she placated me, "Don't pay any attention to what he says, Allen. Sometimes he doesn't think before he speaks."

I thought Mrs. Robinson was overly worried. My parents had gone so long ago I couldn't remember much about them, not even what they looked like, which I knew was strange given the accident had occurred just a few years ago. Perhaps, Mrs. Robinson was right to be worried. Maybe there was something about the accident that I was repressing. Why else would I be unable to remember what my parents looked like? A feeling of discomfort washed over me but I put on a brave face for Mrs. Robinson.

"I didn't spare him a single thought," I smiled, looking down at Mrs. Robinson's breasts which were heaving slightly from the anger she was feeling toward her husband.

She looked down at herself and smiled. "Please don't tell me what you were thinking about just now."

That night, reading on the couch with her husband sitting in his chair behind her and me opposite in my preferred observation post, it was very clear what I had been thinking about. Despite the caution I had overheard Mr. Robinson offer to Mrs. Robinson, she conducted an even more sensual display of her legs than usual. I think it was the way she used the top of one foot to rub the back of the other leg's calf, again and again, always slowly, as if to purposely draw attention to her legs.

Mr. Robinson kept his eyes riveted on either the TV or his newspaper. I was no longer worried about him catching me watching his wife. He was obviously pleased with my new ability to roam about in public and I knew, from the overheard conversation, that he attributed my success to his wife's efforts to entice me with just rewards such as her current exhibit. What he previously thought inappropriate seemed to me now allowed. He knew what was going on, if only in a limited way, and apparently the end justified the means. That would definitely change if he knew about the downstairs treats or, due to Mrs. Robinson's own inadvertent suggestion, my growing willingness to demand more.

When Mr. Robinson went to use the bathroom during a commercial break, I walked over to stand beside Mrs. Robinson, looking down upon her lovely, bare thighs. She didn't try to cover herself, just as she hadn't when her husband stood behind her and could have easily looked over to witness her wanton display. Only, she knew he wouldn't look and that I would do so intensely, but what she didn't expect was the forthright, almost possessive manner in which I reached down and pushed her knees apart, exposing a pair of blue panties.

She didn't look around to see where her husband was—the toilet hadn't yet flushed—the fleeting anger was directed at me. I didn't know yet that a woman usually doesn't like to be hurried or pushed. Nonetheless, she made no attempt to close her legs but she looked away, disinterested. Another lesson: Mrs. Robinson was demonstrating that force diminishes value.

"I'm sorry," I apologized. "I couldn't wait. I was thinking about tomorrow and my courage was waning."

Mrs. Robinson's expression softened.

"You still need my help, don't you, Allen?"

"More than ever," I confirmed, moving her knee in and out and observing the tantalizing movement it caused across the front of her panties. "Will you come tonight?"

"Do you need me to?"

"Yes," I replied throatily, in the most desperately needy voice I could muster.

"Then, I'll come."

The toilet flushed.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

I had turned all the lights off. The room was lit only by the flickering light of the television when she entered my room and swayed toward my bed in her signature full length nightgown with a deeply cut bodice. I had the presence of mind to appreciate what a sexy woman she was as I enjoyed the formation of each leg within the gown and its subsequent disappearance as the other one started to appear with each new step.

She kept her eyes focused on mine, which is probably why she didn't notice that I had swept the blankets to the side. She leaned down to give me a kiss.

"I can't stay. Mr. Robinson was too excited to go to sleep."

I didn't argue. I simply raised my lips up to meet hers. As we kissed, I curled my hand around to the back of her head and when she sank lower, I put my arm around her shoulder to encourage her descent. Her knee pressed into the mattress.

"Maybe for just one long kiss," she whispered.

I let her sink down until she was lying atop me, keeping her mouth engaged in a very long kiss.

"You're very naughty to delay me," she said, trailing her fingers across my forehead. "Mr. Robinson will wonder what's keeping me."

"Will he?" I asked, recapturing her mouth.

When our mouths parted, she said, "We really have to talk about setting some boundaries."

Suddenly, her face filled with surprise.

"Allen," she cried, twisting about on top of me. "What have you done with the blankets?"

"It was too hot. I left them off," I answered, my hands encircling her waist to keep her from escaping.

"But we can't lie together like this."

"Like what?"

"Without blankets."

"Why not? What difference does it make?"

"It's not proper."

"Why? We're both dressed." I didn't mention that I was only wearing a pair of boxer shorts. I tried to kiss her but she pulled away.

"I don't know. I think it's too much."

"It's fine," I said, stretching up and raining several small kisses on her lips.

She was reluctant but many kisses turned into another long one. It was an amazing kiss, the warmest, most fluid one we'd ever had, perhaps stoked by the proximity of our genitals separated by two thin barriers of clothing, her heat and softness contrasting with my urgent hardness. I could taste the reluctant desire seething inside her.

When we finished, I was surprised by her seeming acceptance of our new situation. She offered no indication that she wanted to leave except for a verbal one which I ignored.

"Mr. Robinson will be wondering where I am. I really should go."

I moved my hands up and down her back, stretching up to brush her lips with mine and basking in the puffy softness pressing against me. I rolled her a bit from side to side and was delighted that she allowed me to exacerbate the pressure between us that delivered a tingling glow that spread wonderfully throughout my groin.

"I really should go," she whispered.

I knew she didn't want to.

"He's probably fallen asleep."

"Do you think so?"

"Was he reading?"

I pushed my hands down to the small of her back and beyond, slightly up the rise to her buttocks, stunned that there was no objection. Maybe setting boundaries wasn't such a bad idea so I could relish the thrill of breaking them.

"Yes."

"You said he always falls asleep right away when he reads in bed."

"He does," she confirmed.

"So, you can stay a little longer."

"Maybe," she chuckled, this time playfully brushing her lips across mine, amused by my logic but accepting it just the same.

I pushed my hands higher up the forbidden slope.

"What are you doing back there, Mister?"

"Checking out my prize," I said, pushing my hands up to the crest and letting them lie still, cupping the crest of her buttocks.

"Your prize?"

"Yes. Those blue panties."

"You'll have to go somewhere special if you want me to give them to you tomorrow," she teased, amazingly not making me remove my hands which were already beginning to gently squeeze.

"Tonight," I corrected her.

"Tonight?"

"Tonight," I repeated. "I want to hold them tonight so I'll be ready for the challenge tomorrow."

It made sense but she wasn't succumbing to my logic this time.

"I can't give them to you tonight. I'm wearing them."

"You're wearing a nightgown. Just slip them off."

"I can't go to bed without my panties. My husband will see."

"Mr. Robinson is asleep," I said, deliberately trying to distance him.

"He might not be."

"He won't notice."

"No, he probably won't," she admitted.

The tone in her voice shot a thrill through my chest that ended lower, causing a shiver in my dick. It spoke bucketloads about Mrs. Robinson's sex life.

"I would notice."

"Would you?" she smiled, inquisitively.

"I've noticed every day since I came here."

"Yes, I guess you have," Mrs. Robinson giggled.

I grabbed her lips with mine and kissed her hard, pulling my left hand up to hold her face against mine but freely exploring her ass with my right. It was fantastic watershed moment in our relationship, one that wasn't mentioned in the brief interlude between that kiss and the next. At the end of that one, we were both panting and there was no breath left for words, except, that is, when she felt me using both hands to draw her nightgown up, bunching it on her bottom.

"What are you doing?"

"Getting ready to take your panties off."

"I didn't say you could."

I didn't answer but kept pulling the nightgown up.

"Not now. I'll take them off when I leave."

"No, now," I insisted, offering no reason.

"Allen, I can't."

"Yes, you can."

Nothing more was said. Silently, I tugged the long nightgown until it was bunched up on her bum, spilling over onto the slope to her narrow waist. I loved the way her butt flared into its full expression.

We lay still, as if we were both savoring the moment. Then, Mrs. Robinson started to push her panties down.

"Let me do it."

She relented, allowing me to struggle with the panties which were actually very easy to remove but I made a meal of it, rubbing my hands all over her cheeks and accidentally letting my fingers stray into crevices in which they had no business. I managed to get them to her knees and then used my foot to push them down to her ankles, an action which me to visit a lot of inexcusable motion upon her pussy through the thin nightgown. I pushed the panties off her feet and kicked. They landed on Mrs. Robinson's back where I pulled them up for inspection and sniffed them.

"Allen, that's gross."

"Sorry," I laughed. "I couldn't help myself."

"Well, don't do it again. At least, not in front of me."

"I won't if you let me do it to the real thing."

"Allen!"

"Sorry. Kiss better?"

"Okay, but this is the last one. I really have to go."

It was a passionate kiss. Mrs. Robinson let me run my hand all over her bare ass which I hadn't recovered with the nightgown. The curvature of those two globes was incredibly exciting. She even let me grasp a cheek in each hand and pull them apart a few times. Judging by the muted snort through her nostrils each time I did that, I surmised that it must feel good and was probably stretching and relaxing her pussy lips. Upon that realization, I spread her cheeks more frequently. As the kiss became more active, Mrs. Robinson shoved herself upon me of her own accord without the need for me to pull her down, which I still did since I was her working her ass cheeks anyway. Maybe she was giving second thought to my suggestion of doing the real thing.

A dampness flooded my shorts and, for a second, I thought I had come but then realized I hadn't. Mrs. Robinson broke the kiss and nestled her sweaty cheek tightly against mine, her chin digging into the hollow of my neck as she panted heavily beside my head, hands clutching my shoulders. She had come. I breached my own dam within seconds. Less than a minute after that, Mrs. Robinson stood up. There was a large damp spot on the front of her nightgown in a very incriminating spot, likely a mixture of our mutual excitement.

"Oh, dear," she said, then pulled the long nightgown over her head. Completely nude, she laughed and said, "Mr. Robinson better be asleep." She draped the nightgown over her arm and slowly walked away, leaving the beautiful ass my hands had recently become so familiar with to tease my following eyes in the dim, flickering light.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The next day, Mrs. Robinson sent me on a more adventurous mission to the ticket center in the center of the lower floor in the mall. I tried, I really did, but when the center was in sight, I suddenly felt like I was being smothered, and ran outside and didn't stop until I was home.

"That was quick," Mrs. Robinson called from the kitchen when she heard me burst in.

"I forgot something, haven't done it yet," I yelled as I bolted downstairs.

Flinging myself on onto the bed, I almost burst into tears. Though I didn't, I'm sure I looked like I had. A big baby who can't even buy tickets to a baseball game. I slugged the mattress hard, half a dozen times. Fuck!

I threw myself onto my back, lifting a hand and resting its back on my forehead. I breathed deeply, trying to force the frustration out of my body and the feeling of shame by digging my knuckles into my eyes. What would she think of me now? How could I face her?

There was a light knock on my door, though it wasn't closed. I twisted onto my side, back to the door, so I didn't have to face her.

"Are you okay, Allen?"

"Yes, I'm fine. I'll be up in a minute." Though I tried, I wasn't able to keep the despair out of my voice.

"There's no need to go, Allen. Mr. Robinson can pick the tickets up on his way home from work."

I turned onto my back. Even without looking directly at her, I was aware of her body.

"Then it won't be a surprise," I lamented.

"He'll still be thrilled to go to a game with you."

"How can I go to a game if I can't even get the tickets? No. I'm going back. Just give me a minute."

"Okay, Allen. I'll be upstairs if you need me."

Ten minutes later I went upstairs, feeling sheepish but refortified. I was determined to prove to Mrs. Robinson, and Mr. Robinson too for that matter, that I wasn't a basket case. I was a man, not a scarety-cat little kid, but as I topped the first set of stairs near the entranceway my resolve began to fade. I turned away and climbed the short set of stairs to the main level. Mrs. Robinson came into view in pieces, first her head, then her body, and finally her legs. She was facing away from me, puttering with something on the kitchen counter. I knew she wasn't really doing anything, that she was really just waiting to see me off. I hadn't turned away from the door in fear, I told myself, it just wouldn't be right to leave without assuring her that I could do this small thing for her.

Since leaving my room, Mrs. Robinson had changed her dress. It looked like a simple, plain brown shift from the back but when she turned around and smiled at me, it was anything but. The neckline plunged deep, almost to her belly button, bracketing the tanned inner swells of her breasts.

"Are you off?" she asked, her smile recognizing that she had swept my breath away.

"Yes. I just came up to say goodbye."

"Goodbye? We'll never say goodbye, Allen."

I was almost to her when she raised her arms for a hug. I stepped into her arms, slipping mine around her waist, and looked into her warm, welcoming eyes. They were all the inspiration I needed but I lowered my gaze to take in the unblemished, sculptured skin revealed by her sexy dress.

"Do you like my new dress?"

"Yes. It's beautiful."

"Dresses are nice, Allen. Women are beautiful."

"Then, you're beautiful."

"I wasn't fishing for compliments."

"You don't have to."

I stepped back, pulling her waist with me, which pushed her breast up, almost popping them out of the dress.

"That's a very dangerous dress," I remarked.

"Then it's suitable attire to bid my hero farewell on a dangerous mission."

"Yes, it's perfect for making a man know what he's fighting for," I laughed, making a mountain out of the molehill of a task facing me. Suddenly, the enormity of that challenge, for me, at least, ripped the gaiety from my chest, leaving it hollow. I gasped for air.

"Allen, what's the matter?"

I sank to my knees and buried my face in her dress, my arms falling from her waist and wrapping around her thighs. Mrs. Robinson's fingers slid through my hair.

"Shhhhhhh," she comforted.

I shook my head, shaking off her hands.

"Don't," I cried. I was surprised by the look of helplessness in her face. Why should she feel that way? I was the one with the handicap. I realized with a start that when Mrs. Robinson helped me she helped herself, too. To be unable to help someone close to you must be unbearable, and her reaction showed that she cared for me deeply. I resolved to help her. I pushed up on her dress.

"Allen, Mr. Robinson will be home any minute."

"I need see why I'm going," I said, pushing the dress higher, overcoming the feeble attempt of her hands to block my progress.

"It's too late, today. We'll try again tomorrow."

"No," I firmly rejected the offer of escape. I knew I couldn't go to sleep tonight with this failure hanging over our heads. "You must remind me," I insisted, pushing so hard Mrs. Robinson's dress traveled high enough for her panties to peek through. "Hold it up," I commanded, bunching the dress into her hands, but it was also a desperate plea, and she knew it.

I stared at her panties, sitting like a shallow boomerang that dipped from its wings near Mrs. Robinson's hips to meet in the middle, a slightly thicker section covering the magic center of life that I had only glimpsed until now. I remembered it's warmth as it pressed down upon me the night before and the power it held to bring forth my seed. 

"Allen."

"Shhhhhh."

As if resigned, Mrs. Robinson settled back against the counter, lifting the dress even higher. I inhaled gently so she wouldn't hear and rebuke me for being gross. I wanted to sense her in every way, sight, smell...touch. I leaned forward.

"Allen!" Mrs. Robinson's cried, alarmed.

Too late. I fell into the sexy, chocolate brown panties, nose first, my hands tightening behind her thighs to counteract the anticipated thrust to dislodge me. It came, mashing her pussy into my face.

"Allen!"

I moved my nose from side to side. "Mmmmmmm."

Her hands clutched my head, my hair, pulling, trying to push my face away, but her effort was futile. My arms tightened and I opened my mouth to plant a puffy-lipped kiss squarely on the front of her panties.

"Allen," she cried, her voice weaker.

I opened my mouth wide and tried to cover her mound with my mouth but only succeeded in skidding my lips across the silky panties. Mrs. Robinson expelled a loud sigh. I closed my mouth a little and thrust my tongue out to execute a well-placed, long lap up the front of the panties. Keeping my tongue pressed against the panties, I shoved it down and returned but this time with the tip crooked stiffly inward, finding and following the intriguing groove I had first witnessed an eon ago.

"Oh, Allen," Mrs. Robinson sighed.

I let the dress go but pushed my hands up underneath, finding and molding her ass, pulling it forward to increase the pressure of her pussy on my tongue.

"Allen."

I wiggled my head, producing a burst of short sighs, then licked like I was eating that ice cream cone the first day. Her fingertips curled in and clutched my scalp hard. I licked faster, slipping my tongue underneath where the panties widened and digging it upwards, finding and following a wider trench which opened as the panties soaked into her skin.

"Oh, God. Allen, oh Allen."

I released my tight grip on her ass, found the waist of the panties, and started dragging them down. I expected a protest but none came, not until the legs were lower than my mouth and the wet material began separating stickily from the charms it covered.

"No. Allen, oh no."

She tried to close her legs but my knees prevented her.

"Yes," I mumbled into her muff.

The panties snapped downward and my mouth was upon her bare, wet pussy, my tongue thrusting easily through her slick groove, then finding and sinking into her sacred hole. Her fingers almost crushed my skull but they were pulling inward rather than trying to push me away. I stiffened my tongue and shoved it deep into the hole, into her cunt, so hard I could feel my head lifting her up onto her toes. I retreated, retrieving my tongue, and lapped her pussy like the happiest Labrador in the world, forcing a series of uncontrolled 'uhs' and 'ohs' from Mrs. Robinson's sexy mouth.

I don't know why it took me so long to think of it but when I finally slipped my longest finger into her hole and began plunging it in an out in a regular rhythm, the tenor or Mrs. Robinson's voice began a steady rise, rising higher and higher in concert with more and more frantic gasps for air. When I thought she was as close as she could get, I yanked my finger out and replaced it with my tongue, shoving my mouth up hard in an effort to get it as deep as possible and shook my head, guessing that would feel good but not really knowing whether it would or not.

Mrs. Robinson liked it.

"Ohhhhh, ohhhhhh, ohhhhhh," she gasped louder than before as her thighs scissored on my around my head and her hands yanked it deeper into her pussy.

My face was suddenly awash and her sighs subsided as the muscles in her legs relaxed enough that they didn't feel like they were about to break. She sank down until her toes douched the floor for the first time in minutes, followed by her heels, but she was unable to hold her weight and I was forced to hold her up until her thighs stopped quivering.

I pushed the panties, which were hung up around her ankles, off her feet and stood up. The dress fell into place and if you had just walked into the kitchen, you might have thought Mrs. Robinson had simply been on a vigorous run. Her cheeks were flushed and her breathing still irregular but her eyes shone. There was none of the recrimination or anger that I had expected. I made a production of pushing her panties into my pocket.

"These will get me through," I said, turning away.

"Allen, wait!"

I turned back. Mrs. Robinson grabbed a tea towel and held it up to my face. Delicately, she dabbed at my chin and rubbed down my cheeks.

"There. Get a ticket for me. I want to come too."

"Again?" I laughed, immediately regretting my crude joke, but she laughed.

"Away with you. I don't know why men always get so cocky afterwards."

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

I could hardly keep still during dinner. Who would have thought it would be so easy. Earlier this same afternoon, I couldn't even get there and yet, just over an hour later, I walked right up to the man and ordered three tickets for the baseball game on Saturday. After that, I had the balls to saunter over to a refreshment booth and order an Orange Julius, then sat on one of the mall benches and casually sipped at it until it was gone, reliving my successful penetration of the mall and wondering why in the world it had seemed so difficult. In the retelling, as I casually sauntered into the mall, I wasn't walking stiffly and clutching the panties in my pocket, like I was even now. But hey, history is always rewritten to look grander than it really was.

The tickets were burning a hole in my pocket. Mr. Robinson knew something was up. How could he not? My excitement was particularly well hidden. It was Mrs. Robinson who couldn't hold back anymore.

"Allen went on another adventure to the mall today."

"Oh, yes," Mr. Robinson responded, looking from her to me, awaiting further explanation.

I remained silent.

"Yes. He went right down to the bottom floor, deep into the bowels of the mall."

"Ahhh. What was so important that you had to venture so far, Allen?"

"Show him," Mrs. Robinson interjected excitedly.

I tugged the tickets out of my pocket. Thankfully they weren't in the same one as the panties. "These," I stated casually, tossing them onto the table in front of Mr. Robinson's plate.

He looked at them, twisting his head to line up so he could read. Then he simply stared.

"Baseball? You bought...baseball tickets."

Mr. Robinson's face lit up.

"Are you sure, Allen?" He looked at his wife. "That's wonderful, but is he ready?"

"He's right here."

Mr. Robinson looked at me.

"Are you sure you're up to it, Allen?"

"Yes, of course. Mrs. Robinson says I am, so I must be."

"Well... that's marvelous, that's...awesome! We'll go to a game!"

Mr. Robinson stood up and his fork clattered onto his plate and bounced onto the table. He leaned forward, grasped my right hand and Mrs. Robinson's left, and pulled us both up to our feet.

"We're going to the game. Here's to the game!" he shouted.

"To the game," we yelled, then sat down at the same time, laughing.

There was no leg show that evening but I didn't care. In a way, I felt it would ruin the new spirit in the house by leaving Mr. Robinson out. We all watched a movie together and talked about it during the commercials. It was a great evening and I felt like a real part of a wonderful family. Gary was a lucky guy. I wondered what it would be like to be in a real family where a son and his parents could get along so well. I wished Mr. Robinson knew about what had transpired between me and Mrs. Robinson, and was okay with it. I imagined Gary sitting in my place and being the one with the special relationship with his mother. Would his father condone it? Could they live together sharing this beautiful woman? Could they live with me in that knowledge?

That night, while I waited hopefully for Mrs. Robinson's nightly visit, I imagined myself with my parents. What if they hadn't been killed? Could we live like that? Try as I might, I couldn't imagine it. The problem was disturbing. I couldn't visualize either of my parents. Their forms were vague, even when I pictured myself doing to my mother what I'd done to Mrs. Robinson that afternoon, I couldn't see her face or hear her voice clearly. What was wrong with me? They hadn't died that long ago. Was I still so traumatized that I couldn't even see them? Had I been in the crash?

I shook my head, tossing the thoughts of my parents out of my mind. Instantly, it was filled with a stark image I had seen the first time I had entered the mall in the afternoon but only now remembered. It was a woman, sitting on a bench at the far end of the side hallway that led to the public washrooms. She was breast-feeding her child but the scene was wrong. A baby rested in a carriage beside her. The mother seemed embarrassed and she looked away as soon as she caught sight of me approaching. Her face was hidden but she couldn't hide the fact that the child she was breast-feeding was at least four years old, if not more. She was ashamed, I could see that, but why did it disturb me so much?

She was coming, walking sexily toward me though I knew she wasn't trying to be sexy. The disturbing mall scene melted away.

"Hello, Allen," she said. She put her knee on the bed but didn't lie down on top of me as she now usually did. "Mr. Robinson is very pleased. I told him I was going downstairs to make some tea and he asked me to thank you again if you were still awake."

"That's very kind of him," I said.

"Yes, it is but, more importantly, I think he's too excited to go to sleep."

"You mean, you can't stay long?"

"That's right, but you deserve a reward for your bravery today."

Mrs. Robinson put her knees on the bed, one on each side of me, but kept herself lifted up on outstretched arms. Her breasts hung down and pressed so hard against the flimsy material of her nightgown that her nipples were clearly evident. It made me think of the woman in the mall breast-feeding her four year old son. Before I could think, my mouth went into action.

"I saw a woman in the mall breast-feeding her child today" I blurted out.

"Oh," Mrs. Robinson seemed amused. "What made you think of that, Allen?"

She shifted her weight from one arm to the other, making her breasts sway from side to side.

"It wasn't her baby," I said.

"Of course it was. I'm sure she wasn't breast-feeding someone else's baby."

"No. I mean she had a baby in a carriage but she was breast-feeding an older child, her son."

Mrs. Robinson looked startled, and suddenly uncomfortable.

"How old?" she asked.

"I don't know. Four, maybe older."

"Did that bother you?"

"I guess so."

"Why? Did your mother breast-feed you when you were older?"

I hadn't thought of that. A weird feeling overcame me but no memories popped into my head.

"Maybe. I don't know."

"Do you think it was wrong of the woman to comfort her son?"

"I don't know. I guess, maybe."

"It's never wrong for a mother to comfort her son, Allen." Mrs. Robinson's voice was firm, filled with conviction.

"I guess not."

Mrs. Robinson lifted her left hand, holding herself up with only her right. Deftly, she slipped a finger under the bodice of her nightgown and pushed it aside, freeing her left breast which immediately dangled lower, bouncing with the sexiest motion I had ever witnessed.

"Here, Allen. Try to imagine how comforting it might be for her son."

On that note, Mrs. Robinson lowered herself until her nipple nudged my lips. Though dry, they opened readily and let her stiff nipple poke into my mouth. The feelings that hard nipple stirred within me was incredible. I lifted my head from the bed, straining to get as much of Mrs. Robinson's tit into my mouth as I could as she released a low, throaty, I-told-you-so chuckle. Her hand curled under my neck to hold my head tight to her breast and she arched her back to feed me more of her tit. My hand slipped inside her nightgown and closed over her other breast.

"Do you like it?" she hissed.

I nodded and mumbled enthusiastically around her tit.

"Can you remember, Allen, what it was like to suck your mother's tits?"

I shook my head full of tit. The throaty laughed rolled forth again.

"I bet you loved it. I bet you sucked your mom's tits as long as you could, long after you were a baby."

I shook my head but her words somehow ringed true. Had my mother breast-fed me after I was a baby? Had I harassed her for a tit whenever I was anxious? I'm sure the woman's little boy pressured her for a tit because he saw her feeding the baby but I didn't have a younger brother or sister like that woman, so why would I do that? Why would my mother let me? Already, in my mind, I was accepting it as true. Somehow, I knew I had, but how did Mrs. Robinson know. She and my mother weren't close friends but they must have know each other. Had they confided? Had Mrs. Robinson let Gary breast-feed far longer that the norm, like my mother? The thought of it made me so fucking horny.

I pulled away. "I love sucking your tits, Mommy," I cried, then buried my face in them.

Mrs. Robinson grasped my head in both hands and rubbed her tits across my face, feeding one nipple into my mouth and then the other. My hands slipped around her waist and then up onto her ass. Clutching my hands, I bunched her nightgown higher and higher. I wanted another pair of panties.

"Oh, Mommy," I cried, whenever my mouth cleared for a breath.

Mrs. Robinson went wild whenever I said it, grinding her pussy onto my cock. We were both getting carried away. I hoped she wasn't aware of it as I was because I didn't want it to stop. The nightgown was up. I pulled it over her bum and slid my hands over her almost naked cheeks. Almost? They were completely naked. I couldn't feel any panties!

I pushed my hands together until my fingers met in the crack of Mrs. Robinson's ass. I kept one there while I explored downward, the heel of my fingertips sliding over her little asshole and beyond, finding and slipping through a very hot and wet pussy. Plunging a finger into her cunt from behind, I lowered my other hand, index finger seeking, finding, then probing into the treasure the other had passed over. I nudged into it, listened to Mrs. Robinson's grunting appreciation, then shoved a second finger into her cunt.

My hips were churning underneath her and only her flexing knees kept Mrs. Robinson positioned atop my throbbing cock. The thought of my cock made me aware of its desperate need. I withdrew my fingers from Mrs. Robinson's cunt and slipped my hand underneath her left hip. On the next upward withdrawal of her pelvis, I deftly slipped in and, grabbing my shorts, yanked them down, freeing my frantic cock.

"Oh, God, Allen. No," Mrs. Robinson cried upon feeling my bare cock on her tummy.

Still, she didn't try to get off and on the next upward withdrawal of her hips, I angled my cock up. Mrs. Robinson landed above it and it skidded along her pussy lips. Immediately, she clamped her legs around it. I returned my hand, reaching over the back of her thighs to find and explore her soaking wet lips. Mrs. Robinson continued grinding her mound on my pelvis, her thighs squeezing my cock. Obviously, she was okay with our bare genitals rubbing together. We would rub ourselves until we both came.

But I wanted more than that. I kept meeting Mrs. Robinson's downward grinds with upward, twisting thrusts of my own, my sex sounds matching hers with increasing intensity and abandonment, but I didn't try to get inside her and I think that's why she let her guard down. It was only later, when it felt like she was starting to get there, reaching the place of not return, that I quickly grasped my cock between her legs and shoved forward, discovering her entrance with a blind man's luck.

Oh, heaven of heavens. What a feeling. So exquisite, so overwhelming. So new and yet so familiar. Mrs. Robinson protested with a loud groan but, if anything, she welcomed me inside her with such a vigorous clutch I don't think I could have pulled out if I wanted to.

"Nooooo," she wailed, but when I started in for my second thrust her muscles grabbed me and lifted my cock, so hard my hips rose off the bed.

"Noooooo," she cried, following me down, her hips flexing quickly as she threw half a dozen mini thrusts at my next invasion and a half dozen more on the way down.

"Fuck me, oh Jesus, fuck me," she whimpered as I countered with my own rapid series of hard upward thrusts, our bodies slapping together.

I circled her waist to hold her while I fucked hard and fast, delighting in the way I threw her body all around. She was gone, in her own world, swinging wildly above me like a rag doll. I was losing control. Who was I kidding? I had already lost control, heaving my body up mightily, as if I was trying to fuck right through her. I felt as if I had been reborn, that I had lived before and fucked this same woman, my favorite woman in the world, of all my former lives. This one, this woman, was the best!

I grabbed her hair and tugged as gently as I could, tilting her head back. She moaned in abandonment, looking for all the world like a wild animal. I loved it. She loved it. We came.

We must have laid there for ten minutes without saying a word. The first five minutes, neither of us could have spared the breath to speak but the last five must have been out of reverence for what had just happened. I had no regrets and I sensed she had none either. Maybe, we just didn't want to part, didn't want to end our first time. She felt so fucking wonderful, even now, sweating on top of me, her hair a mess in my face, the odor of our sex wafting over us.

"Whew," I finally spoke.

"Whew," she agreed.

"That was incredible," I gasped.

"You shouldn't call me Mommy."

"I called you Mommy?"

"Yes, you shouldn't."

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean..."

"Don't worry about that. It's just that it makes me go wild."

"Oh. I didn't notice."

Mrs. Robinson laughed loudly. "Uh huh."

"Can I call you Mommy again?"

"At your peril, but I prefer Mom."

"I like living dangerously."

"I know. It makes you hot to call me that doesn't it?"

"Yes," I admitted. "I don't know why. Mom," I added.

"Forget it," Mrs. Robinson said. "There's no repeats, not tonight, anyway."

"Mom," I cried plaintively.

"Whining won't do it," she said.

"Mom," I said more forcefully.

"Don't wear it out."

I took her advice and remained mum.

Mrs. Robinson got up and tugged the nightgown down her legs, then pulled the lapels over her breasts, making sure each was properly covered.

"I know why you like calling me Mom," she said, then quickly turned and walked rapidly away.

"Why?" I called, but she didn't answer. She was gone.

Why had she said that? Why had she known that my mother had breast-fed me past babyhood? I mean, she could have just seen my mother doing it, but I had the feeling she knew more than that. If my mother confided in each her, hat implied Mrs. Robinson must have breast-fed Gary too.

So what it mean when she said she knew why I liked calling her Mom? Did Mrs. Robinson know something else about my mother and me? Is that why it made her go wild when I called her Mom?

My God, had she had sex with her own son? No, no, that couldn't be. Or could it? No, she couldn't have actually done it with Gary, but maybe she fantasized about it. Maybe that was why he seemed unhappy about my presence at first, thinking her fetish, if he knew about it, could actually lead into something with someone other than their son. But then he seemed so happy about me getting better, and anyway, I wasn't a very good-looking guy. I was pretty geeky-looking. Surely, I wasn't a real threat?

I fell asleep wondering about many things and had some very weird dreams.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

It was game day. I had slept in. At first, I thought about rushing upstairs to see if calling Mrs. Robinson 'mom' would instigate another session like last night but then realized it was Saturday and we wouldn't be alone. I forgot all about golf.

Lazing around, I twiddled with my dick, thinking about Mrs. Robinson and, more hazily, possible liaisons with my unremembered mother, until I had to get up to take a leak. While I was pissing, I remembered that Mr. Robinson liked to golf on Saturdays. I yanked on some shorts and half ran upstairs.

Mrs. Robinson's wasn't there, an absence that was distinctly disappointing. I rubbed my cock and opened the fridge. I was hungry. I was almost finished my second bowl of cereal when the door opened.

"Hello, I'm home."

She breezed into the kitchen, carrying a bunch of bags and deposited them on the table, then turned toward the kitchen counter where I was sitting with a spoonful of cereal, dripping milk back into the bowl, halfway to my mouth.

"Ta da," she exclaimed. "Do you like it?" she asked, twirling around.

I looked her up and down. You betcha I did, but I guess she meant the new sporty blouse and skirt she was wearing.

"Yeah, it looks great...Mom."

"Allen, don't start."

"I was just kidding. Your new outfit looks really good on you, but what wouldn't."

"Oh, you flatterer. Wouldn't you rather have pancakes? I was hoping to get home earlier."

"Nope. Cereal's okay."

"Are you sure. It will only take a minute."

Why was I saying no when she wanted to do something for me?

"Okay, that would be great."

Mrs. Robinson bustled around the kitchen, getting pancake mix, milk and eggs, then a frying pan and a bowl. I watched as she mixed it up, enjoying her sporty outfit with its short, pleated skirt and tight t-shirt. She put the mix onto the counter to let it sit for a while.

"I'm kind of hungry myself," she said, lifting herself up onto a stool beside me.

I looked down at her almost completely bare legs.

"Are you ready for the game, Allen?"

"I think so," I replied, not bothering to look up even though I knew it was rude. My morning hardon hadn't quite worn off.

"There will be lots of people. It can be a little overwhelming but I'll be there, and Mr. Robinson too," she assured me.

She patted me on the leg and I patted hers in response.

"You have to wait until after the game, sweetie."

"Even if I call you Mom?" I half-joked.

"Yes, even then," she answered, but I noted a sharp intake of breath.

"Okay, Mom. Are the pancakes ready to cook yet?"

"Let's see." Mrs. Robinson slid off her stool and went to check the bowl. "I don't mind you calling me that, Allen, but not when Mr. Robinson is around."

"Okay," I agreed, slipping off my own stool and standing behind her while she looked at the bowl of pancake mix, which was starting to blister.

"It looks like it's a little early yet," Mrs. Robinson said.

I put my hands on her hips and nuzzled her the nape of her neck.

"That's okay, I'm not in a hurry," I said, my right hand sliding down over her buttock.

"Allen, you must wait."

She pulled away but I followed her into the counter.

Twisting away, she said, "I think we can eat this now."

I sat on the stool again and acted like a good boy while Mrs. Robinson cooked the pancakes. I made no further suggestions but managed to sprinkle a few Mom's into our conversation while we ate. When we finished, I followed her to the sink to put my dishes on top of hers. I pressed against her.

"Allen, we really have to wait. Mr. Robinson will be home from golf soon."

"I know," I whispered close to her ear, my hands encircling her waist and rubbing along the swell of her breasts, "but I don't think it's a good idea to go to the game like this."

"Like what," Mrs. Robinson leaned forward to get away from me which only pushed her bum into me.

"Like this," I hissed, bulging my cock firmly into her ass. "I think Mr. Robinson will be angry if he sees me like this and I can't control it. "You've got to help me."

"How?" Mrs. Robinson's head bounced as I rubbed hard against her ass. "There isn't time to...do it."

"Could you, you know, do like I did to you before I went to get the tickets?"

Mrs. Robinson froze, then pushed herself up straight. I loosened my arms to let her turn around. She was blushing.

"You mean, you want me to...suck you?"

Those words spilling from her mouth almost made me come in my pants.

"Yeah," I said, already pushing my shorts down.

"But Allen, I can't..."

"I need something. You're got to do something before Mr. Robinson gets home."

I shoved my shorts down far enough that my cock sprung forth, fully armed.

Mrs. Robinson looked at it and the look in her face made me proud. I may be a geek, but I was a well-armed geek.

"Please, Mom," I whispered, putting my hands on her shoulders and pressing gently down.

Mrs. Robinson was reluctant but I could see growing acceptance forming on her face.

"Please, Mom. I really need it."

She bent over and I stepped back, my hands slipping up from her shoulders to gently cup her face, guiding her down. Oh, God. Her lips skidded over my helmet, her tongue tickled underneath my glans, licked, and then her mouth enveloped my head slid down my shaft.

"Oh, Mom. Oh God. Mom," I cried.

She was pulling up already, then sinking down, pushing farther. Fuck, it was so fine, so very, very fine. Up again, her tongue swirling around my tip, her lips squeezing, then sliding down, gripping. Her fingers appeared out of nowhere, one circling my root with forefinger and thumb while the other started tickling my balls.

"Suck it, Mom, suck it," I groaned.

She sank to her knees but her head didn't miss a beat as it bobbed up and down. I lifted her hair and smoothed it back over her head so I could try to see her face. Mrs. Robinson looked up at me and smiled, holding my eyes for a few bobs before returning to her task. I wasn't going to last long, maybe a dozen or so strokes, if that.

Mr. Robinson's car squealed into the driveway.

"Shit!" Mrs. Robinson cried, yanking her head off my cock.

"It's alright, it's alright," I yelled. "He always puts his clubs away in the garage. You can finish," I cried, desperately trying to pull her mouth back onto me.

"Please, Mom," I pleaded.

Mrs. Robinson let me pull her mouth back onto my cock. She closed her lips firmly around it and started bobbing again but I was now frantic to finish. I grasped her head tighter bent my knees, pulling her lower before thrusting in and out of her mouth. She loosened her lips and opened her mouth wide, keeping her head still, instinctively knowing that I was almost there and it was better to simply let me fuck her face. The sound of my cock wetly sliding in and out of her mouth sent me over the top. I exploded. She gagged and swallowed. I burst again, another gag and swallow, then I held in deep, squirting the rest of my spunk into Mrs. Robinson's throat, trying to empty myself before her husband came in the door.

Please, oh please, don't forget to put your clubs away.

I heard the clubs clatter as the bag was pulled out of the car. The trunk slammed and the clubs rattled as Mr. Robinson carried them into the garage. I had time. I kept hold of Mrs. Robinson's head with one hand as I slowly fucked away the remnants of my orgasm, holding her hair back with the other so I could look at her gorgeous face with my cock sliding in and out of her mouth. She hadn't spilled a drop.

I stumbled sideways as I tried to pull my shorts up and barely stayed upright until I hit the wall with a bang. Mrs. Robinson, despite knowing her husband's arrival was imminent, burst out laughing. I didn't find my predicament so funny and ran down the stairs just as the front door opened. I stopped at the bottom to listen, in case I needed to run farther away.

"Ready for the game?" Mr. Robinson yelled.

"We don't have to leave for an hour," Mrs. Robinson complained.

"I know, I know, but the traffic might be heavy. Where's Allen?"

"I don't know. He must be downstairs. No, you go up and get a shower and I'll find him."

I heard a loud kiss as Mr. Robinson kissed his wife. I hoped I was right and she hadn't spilled any of my spunk. I couldn't imagine a woman kissing her husband and not smelling the scent of another woman on his lips but I guess us guys aren't so clever.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The game was fantastic. We drank cheap, stale beer and ate crappy hot dogs but it was up there with the best meals I had ever cooked. I made a point to whip up a special meal for my new 'parents'. Mr. Robinson was ecstatic and drank too much beer. He even finished mine when I admitted I couldn't finish it. We drove home in a merry mood; our team had won. Mr. Robinson rode in the back, singing some old songs from his college days. Mrs. Robinson looked in the mirror whenever he fell silent and smiled. The first few times she looked, he burst into song anew, but as we neared home, the silence was more permanent.

I stretched out my hand toward Mrs. Robinson and she took it. When we pulled into the driveway, I turned to wake Mr. Robinson but found him sitting up, looking between us straight out the front window. I had no idea how long he's been awake and was worried because Mrs. Robinson still held my hand. She only let go to put the gearshift in Park.

We got out and walked to the door. Mr. Robinson slapped me on the back.

"Thanks for the game, son."

"Thank you and Mrs. Robinson for giving me the courage to get the tickets, and paying for them," I replied.

Mrs. Robinson opened the door, stepped inside the house, and waited for us to come in. Mr. Robinson walked past the closets in the entranceway with his shoes still on and went up the stairs to the main floor.

"I think I'll head straight for bed," he said, "but don't let me stop you two from celebrating.

Mrs. Robinson and I watched him walk unsteadily up the stairs. I peeled my jacket off and she kicked off her shoes one at a time. Mrs. Robinson turned to look at me as soon as her husband disappeared. She removed her cardigan sweater and I admired the way her breasts pushed out as each arm pulled out of the sweater. I took a deep breath and brushed my eyes over her entire body, lingering on her legs and that sexy, short pleated skirt.

"Thank you, Allen. He had a great time, better than he's had for years."

"You're welcome. I did too."

"Are you hungry?"

"No."

I looked upstairs. The air was heavy with unfulfilled expectation. Mrs. Robinson followed my gaze.

"I bet he's asleep already."

"Do you think so?"

"I do, Mom."

"The light is still on."

"He's gone," I said.

"I hope so, Mrs. Robinson said.

She turned her head away from the stairs and walked into the living room but stopped beside the small couch to the right that I usually sat in. She got onto it with her knees, facing the back, and turned to look at me.

"Don't you want me?" she asked.

I was there in two steps, kneeling behind her. She wouldn't let me nudge her knees apart so I straddled hers. I wasn't capable of finesse and both of us knew it. I shoved my shorts down for the second time that day and grabbed my cock with my right hand. My left hand flipped the skirt up onto Mrs. Robinson's back and then skidded her panties onto her left cheek. The tip of my cock was already bumping behind her, searching for her entrance. I had been aware of her sitting beside me all night and I was more than ready, too ready.

"Oh Allen, so much foreplay," she chuckled but she arched her back and pushed her bum back to help her pussy find my cock.

I slid my hands inside her t-shirt and grasped her tits just as her pussy began squeezing down my shaft. With her knees together like this, she was tight. I got all the way in, slid out part way and pushed back in twice more, then started stroking steadily in and out.

"Oh, you naughty boy, fucking your mommy when Daddy's sleeping upstairs," she cooed.

It sounded childish but it still made me even hornier than I already was. I grabbed her by the shoulders and started heaving into her with gusto.

"Yeah," I cried. "You haven't seen nothing yet. Take this," I grunted, "and this," I gasped, lunging hard.

Mrs. Robinson was shoved into the wall and her head slid up and down it a few inches.

"Are you okay?" I asked.

"Give it to me," she cried.

So I did. I fucked her hard and didn't slow down even when my thighs slapped loudly against the back of hers. It was rough and desperate. I pulled her away from the wall and twisted her length-ways on the couch, quickly crawling behind her without losing her pussy. She bent right over, her face falling into the couch and I crouched over her, pumping my cock wildly in her hole. Her elbows were tight by her sides and I realized she was hanging on, waiting for my release. Had she come already or had she lost it because of my roughness? The thought of her being finished, and possibly wanting to quit, spurred me on. I lunged deeper and deeper and she cried out. Before the sound died away, I found my release and grabbed her sides as my leg muscles clenched hard with each gushing deposit.

Finished, I stretched over Mrs. Robinson and followed her down as she stretched out and settled onto the couch. I was surprised to find her still dressed. I was wearing my shirt too but had lost my shorts. I nuzzled her neck for a couple of minutes and tried to kiss her.

"Get off me you big oaf," she said.

I rose up enough to let her twist around, then settled between her legs, holding my weight off her by resting on my elbows.

"That was a little rushed," she said.

"I'm sorry. I'll do better next time."

"Not tonight, you won't."

"But Mr. Robinson is fast asleep," I protested.

"Yes, and in a few minutes, I will be too."

"Aww, Mom."

"That won't work anymore tonight, little boy."

She laughed and shoved me off. By the time I managed to get off the floor, she was halfway up the stairs. That night, just before I fell asleep, I wondered about what she'd said the night before, 'I know why you like to call me Mom.' I had to find out why. Maybe I could coax it out of her if I took more time and got her really horny. Anyway, I wanted to be with her for longer. Doing it quick was okay if you were desperate but I wanted more.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The next morning Mr. Robinson and I were sitting at the table eating breakfast while Mrs. Robinson sat at the counter making up a shopping list. The counters in the Robinson kitchen were L-shaped and there were three stools situation around the bottom of the 'L', two on the far side and one on the end. Mrs. Robinson sat on the stool off the end. She asked us if there was anything we wanted that she might have forgotten. Mr. Robinson rattled his newspaper, indicating he didn't want to be bothered so Mrs. Robinson called me over to help when I finished my cereal. I put my bowl in the sink and sauntered over to lean against the counter where she was sitting.

"Anything you want that's not on the list?" Mrs. Robinson asked, her bare foot bumping the front of my leg just below the knee.

I craned my neck sideways and read the list as her toes scratched the inside of my leg.

"Nope, don't see anything?"

"Are you sure. Look closer," Mrs. Robinson said, tapping the list with the eraser end of her pencil.

I leaned closer to review the list again. I was down maybe two or three items when she tapped the front of my shorts with the pencil, right on my pecker, which immediately started to swell. I thought it was a mistake until she tapped my cock again, this time leaving the pencil engaged with my shorts.

"Let's see," she said. "We've got wieners,..."

She applied pressure to the pencil and rubbed it down the length of my shaft which felt absolutely fantastic because, by chance, the tip was facing up so the pencil scraped along the more sensitive underside.

"...and bananas,

My cock continued growing as Mrs. Robinson's toes dug into my leg and the pencil rubbed harder up and down my shaft. I looked around to see if Mr. Robinson was still reading the newspaper.

"Pay attention," Mrs. Robinson snapped, painfully flicking the underside of my cock.

I swiveled my head about and looked at the list.

"Do you like zucchini?" she asked.

I groaned, for Mrs. Robinson pressed the pencil firmly against my cock and scraped it down, then pointed it in to slip it between my legs and brought it up to rub my balls.

"Do you, Allen? Do you like zucchini?" she repeated, returning up my shaft.

"Yes," I lied, not wanting to say anything to upset her.

"How about cucumbers?"

The eraser found that sensitive part on the underside of my glans, then rotated and wiggled, sapping the strength from my legs.

"I thought you might like cucumbers," Mrs. Robinson said, pushing the pencil in exquisitely hard and looking up at me with a mischievous smile.

"Yes," I replied. "I do, very much."

"So do I," she gushed, turning the pencil sideways again and rubbing it rapidly up and down my cock.

I stared at the list for the next two minutes while Mrs. Robinson continued rubbing the underside of my cock through my shorts with the pencil. I leaned on the counter with my hands to help keep myself up. I looked at her a couple of times. She was looking up at me with that pesky smile and steamy eyes. She pouted and blew me a kiss, delighting in my discomfort at nearing orgasm with her husband sitting right behind me.

Suddenly, she pulled the pencil away and I nearly gasped at the loss. Dropping it on the counter, she replaced it with her hand, cupping around my shaft and squeezing hard, then softening her grip and rubbing, then squeezing hard again. Less than a minute later, I came, soaking the front of my shorts. Mrs. Robinson released me and picked up the pencil.

"Okay, it looks like we're finished. How about you dear?"

The paper rattled as I presume Mr. Robinson lowered it to look at his wife. My spine stiffened and the hair on the back of my neck bristled.

"Hmmmm?"

"Anything you want me to get at the grocery store?"

"No, can't think of anything."

The paper rattled again. I stepped around Mrs. Robinson and made my way to the stairs.

Later that day, Mrs. Robinson was sitting on the same stool in the kitchen, while I was waiting near the door for Mr. Robinson to come downstairs so we could to check on his boat.

"Come here for a minute, Allen," she called.

As I approached her she looked down at my shorts which made me remember the morning's exercise with the list and caused me to get excited all over again. Just a look from her made me hard.

"I see you're changed your shorts," she said.

"Yes. I, uh...had an accident this morning."

"Did you?" Mrs. Robinson seemed quite amused.

"What kind of accident?" She reached out and snagged my shorts by the waistband.

"It was nothing," I said.

"Nothing? I don't believe that."

Mrs. Robinson pulled me to her and, holding my shorts out at the waistband with one hand, deftly undid my zipper with the other. My cock was free and in her hand before I could say lickety-split.

"Mrs. Robinson, I..."

"Mom," she corrected me.

"Mom, I...uh, Mr. Robinson is right upstairs."

"We're going out to visit some friends tonight, so I won't be able to see you tonight."

My objections melted away, unlike my cock which had hardened proudly in her hands. Mrs. Robinson ducked and my cock was engulfed in her wet, warm mouth. Immediately, she began bobbing her head. My hand curled around her hair, lifting it so I could see her face. What the hell. I started flexing my hips to help her take it deep. A couple of minutes later, fearing I wouldn't be able to finish before Mr. Robinson came downstairs, I grasped her head and began seriously pumping in and out of her mouth. Not much later, Mrs. Robinson accepted my seed within her, accommodating me with ease. She zipped me up and patted my chest.

"I expect to hear that Mr. Robinson's afternoon was every bit as good as your morning."

"You will if I have anything to do with it."

"Don't disappoint me, Allen."

"I won't. I hope I never will."

"I know you do," she smiled.

Mr. Robinson steps sounded on the stairs.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The next morning I awoke to the sound of muffled voices. I looked around but I was alone. Staring at the ceiling, I located the source of the voices. They were coming from the heat vent. I stood up on the bed to listen. The vent had been closed for the summer. I opened it and the voices became clearer.

"You came to bed much sooner that I thought. Did you not feel like teasing him?"

"He wasn't in the mood."

"Joan, don't give me that."

"Okay, I wasn't in the mood. I was tired and afraid he might get out of control. He looked pretty horny and he was expecting something, maybe too much."

"I warned you."

"Yadda, yadda, yadda."

"I'm just saying, you lost control before with Gary and look what happened. I know it worked for a while but sooner or later, if you dangle an ice cream cone in front of a kid, he's going to want to lick it."

"He would have been alright if you hadn't freaked out."

"No Joan, you went too far and he couldn't handle it."

"But look how much he improved. Maybe if I'd gone further, he would have been completely cured."

"Jesus Christ, Joan. He's our son!"

"I know, but I was helping him, more than all those doctors, anyway."

"Yes, yes, you were helping him with the one hand and screwing him up with the other. You took it too far and he couldn't handle it."

"He was fine until you had your little tantrum."

"Okay, maybe that sent him over the cliff but you drove him right to the edge."

"He would have been fine. I was already weaning him off."

"You were too late. If you'd kept it within reasonable boundaries, you might have been able to keep control, but you enjoyed it too much and you let it get away from you. It wasn't Gary's fault, he's just a kid. You lost him for us."

Holy Christ! Mrs. Robinson had been fooling around with Gary and Mr. Robinson knew about it. No wonder he was pissed about me staying with them. But why had he relented? Why did he seem so happy with my presence now?

"I did not enjoy it! I did what I did to help our son after we tried everything else."

"Joan, what you've accomplished with Gary was a miracle. I'll admit that your 'method' worked incredibly well, until that day. In retrospect, it was worth it to get Gary back for the little time we had him but, please, be careful this time. Don't go so far."

"Okay," Mrs. Robinson said. "I'll keep things under control this time. I'll just let him kiss me and feel me up at bit, and maybe let him see me in the nude."

"Well, as long as you can 'wean' him off, as you say."

"That's what I was about to do if you'd stop interfering."

"Okay, okay. Let's not fight anymore."

"Fine. I'll start weaning Gary off."

"You mean Allen," Mr. Robinson said.

"Yes, of course, Allen."

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

I made sure the bed didn't creak when I sat down. Holy shit. Mrs. Robinson had fooled around with Gary and Mr. Robinson knew his wife was teasing me but had no idea how far it had gone, giving me a blow job and fuck twice. I knew she wasn't going to 'wean' me off no matter what she said to him. She liked it, I could tell. She had probably liked fooling around with her son and now she was doing it with his friend. When Mr. Robinson left, I was going upstairs to have some fun with Mrs. Robinson, no question about it. Shit, my cock was hard already. I rubbed it. I could hardly wait. Come on, Mr. Robinson, leave already.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The front door couldn't have been closed more than ten seconds before I went upstairs. Mrs. Robinson wasn't in the kitchen or the living room, and I couldn't see her outside. As I started up the stairs, I heard Mr. Robinson's car back out of the driveway and speed away. I smiled and rubbed my cock through my shorts.

"Mrs. Robinson?" I called. No answer.

"Mrs. Robinson?"

I pushed her bedroom door open and peeked inside. She was standing in front of her mirror, holding a dress up in front of her, but she was completely naked. I walked toward her but stopped when she looked up at me through the mirror.

"Allen, just who I wanted to see."

She twirled around, holding the dress against the front of her body.

"What do you think? Do you like it?"

"Yeah, I like it a lot."

"So do I. In fact, I love it but I'm not sure I can wear it."

"Why not."

"Because it's too sexy. Don't you think it's sexy?"

"Yeah, on you. It's real sexy."

"See, that's the problem."

"Why?"

Mrs. Robinson ignored my question.

"Why?" I repeated.

"Why, Mom," she said.

My cock twitched and lengthened.

"Why, Mom?" Another twitch.

"Did you hear Mr. Robinson and me arguing?"

"Yeah," I admitted, but I didn't want to talk about it. Here comes the 'I have to wean you off bit', I thought.

"Well, he thinks I've been flirting with you too much."

"Oh."

"What do you think?"

"Well, I...uh, I like Mr. Robinson."

She made a cute, endearing face, then stretched one foot out to the side, baring her hip, and looked down the length of her leg.

"Oh, sorry. Yes, I know you like Mr. Robinson. So do I." She giggled. "But what do you think about me flirting with you?"

Flirting? Was she kidding? What were we talking about here. We had been fucking and she was talking about whether or not we should be flirting?

"Well, I guess, if he doesn't like it, maybe we shouldn't."

"But, do you like it?"

"Yeah, I like it."

"So do I." Mrs. Robinson brought her foot in and stretched the other one out, baring that hip and leg all the way down. "It's up to you, I guess."

"Um...well...if he doesn't know about it..."

"Are you saying I shouldn't tease you on the couch when Mr. Robinson is home?"

"Yeah, I guess not."

"But, if he's not home, it's ok?"

Was this a trap? If so, I couldn't see it.

"Yeah, if he isn't home then I guess it won't bother him."

"That's what I was thinking too."

Mrs. Robinson giggled and fluffed her hair with one hand, messing it up but making her look wild and sexy. She turned around to look at the dress she held in front of her with her other hand, presenting me with her naked behind.

"So you like it, Allen? You think it's sexy?"

I looked Mrs. Robinson up and down, pausing at the swells of her tits peeking out at her sides and the flare of her hips as they jutted out to form her ass. The back of her thighs showed the slightest sprinkle of cellulite but it was quite minor.

"Would you do me a favor, Allen?" she asked in a very cute voice, her eyes glancing sideways through the mirror in a coquettish manner.

"Yeah, sure," I answered, my swelling tongue making it difficult to speak.

"Would you put my pillows in the middle of the bed for me?"

"What?"

"You mean, pardon me, Mom?"

"Ah, yeah. Pardon me, Mom?"

"Pile two of the pillows up on the bed for me."

I piled one pillow on top of another like she asked.

"No silly. Put them in the middle."

I dragged the pillows into the middle of the bed.

"That's good," she said, turning back to the mirror. She examined herself critically for about twenty seconds. "That's too bad. I really like this dress. Mean old Mr. Robinson."

Mrs. Robinson tossed the dress to the floor and, for the first time, I saw her in all her stark beauty. She padded over to the bed, pressed her knees onto the edge, and threw herself across the pillows. With her tummy perfectly centered, her ass was prominently presented.

I stared, unsure of what to do despite the firm resolve I had carried up the stairs.

Mrs. Robinson spread her legs.

"Mr. Robinson isn't here," she squeaked.

Nothing stirred in the room for a few seconds while I digested her meaning. Woodenly, but with increasing speed, I pulled my t-shirt over my head and tossed it away, then shoved my shorts down and off. I approached the bed tentatively, as ridiculous as that was, given the situation, with my hard cock wavering about erratically. My knees bumped against the edge and Mrs. Robinson's legs spread wide, pulling her pussy apart so the pink slit showed and parting her cheeks enough to reveal a tiny, darker hole above them. Cunt or ass? Was it my choice? I thought not, since her anus was dry, unlike her glistening lower lips.

I clambered up on the bed.

"Allen?"

"Yeah," I responded, grasping my cock and lining it up with her pussy.

"If you're going to call me Mom, do you mind if I call you Gary?"

Really? This was getting really kinky.

It had seemed strange when she asked me to call her Mom. At first, I had thought she was just trying tom make me feel at home and then suspected that she thought I had had a thing for my mother, but her wanting me to call her Gary was confirmation that she had a thing for her son and missed it. What the hell, it made me harder, if that was possible.

"Yeah, sure, Mom. Call me Gary."

A strange excitement percolated through me and I almost giggled with delight. This was going to be fun.

"Ohhhh, Gary. What do you want? Tell Mommy."

Mrs. Robinson reached back and pulled her cheeks apart. The little hole widened into a dime-sized oval.

Holy shit! The choice was now real. I had seen anal sex on the internet. Hell, before having Mrs. Robinson, all of two times, I had only seen fucking on the internet too. Could I fuck her in the ass without any lube?

I nudged the tip of my cock against her pink wetness. As soon as it made contact, it was sucked inside, enveloping the head within a delicious, wet and warm cocoon. Oh, my fucking God! I loved this feeling. How could being in her ass be any better? I shoved myself home, pulled out slowly, and penetrated her again.

Mrs. Robinson kept her ass spread through the next dozen thrusts and I began to query my own conclusion. If she kept her ass spread, even while I was fucking her, she must want it there. Or, was she surprised by my decision and waiting for me to come to my senses? Did it really feel that good? Every time I pushed in and out, her butt hole winked at me, teasing me with its secret knowledge.

I pumped Mrs. Robinson another dozen or so times before my curiosity got the better of me. I pulled out, raised my cock an inch, and pushed it against the little hole but it skidded over it. Pulling back and holding it more carefully, I tried again but though it remained centered, it wouldn't go in despite Mrs. Robinson pulling harder on her cheeks. All it did was bend painfully.

"Gary, put something on it," Mrs. Robinson gasped.

How easily my name sprung to her lips, as if it was more natural than my own name. Obviously, having a cock behind her, trying to get into her ass, was something she more readily associated with her son than his friend. I resolved to change that in the future whenever Mr. Robinson wasn't here, as she said. Neither was Gary, except in spirit, and through my cock.

I leaned close and drooled onto her puckered opening.

"No, Gary. The lube, the lube," she gasped, wiggling her ass about in over-eager anticipation.

Briefly, her left hand flung out before returning to spread her cheeks. There, now uncovered by the pillow, was a translucent tube. Lube!

I grasped the tube, opened it, and squirted a healthy portion onto Mrs. Robinson's ass. Too much, really. I spread it around and then scooped some up to rub on the tip of my cock and then squeezed it down my shaft. About to try entering her again, I paused, and pushed some of the extra I had spread out trying to scoop it up back onto her hole. I pushed it inside, sliding my finger all the way in.

"Ohhhhh, Gary. It's been so long," she sighed.

"Yeah, how long?" I asked, working my finger slowly in and out, surprised by how easily it slipped through her previously tight hole and also surprised that my finger wasn't covered in shit. I really was a novice at this.

"Since you went away," she sighed, obviously pleased with what I was doing.

I squeezed my index finger together with the longest one and pushed them both inside her ass.

"Ohhhh, yesss."

I spent the next five minutes playing with Mrs. Robinson's butt, sliding my fingers in and out, holding them out until she puckered for more, pushing in with surprising zeal and holding in hard while slowly twisting back and forth. She loved it all. Soon, and eagerness to feel my cock inside her overwhelmed my curiosity and playfulness. I was ready for serious action. From the sounds she made as I clambered up onto my feel and squatted over her, bending my cock down to line it up with her butthole, Mrs. Robinson was through with playing around too.

It went in way easier this time, penetrating rather than bending, but it was slow going in. she was tight, very tight, which surprised me given how easily my two fingers had been able to explore her dark cavern.

"Oh God, Gary. Easy. Easy."

I held still, traumatized. I didn't want to hurt her. A few seconds pass while her puckered lips clasped and released, clasped and released. She pushed back, taking more of my cock, but only a little. Man, she was tight. So tight, it hurt my cock a bit. I pushed some of the extra lube around the edge where her butt clasped my cock, trying to push it in, and also rubbed it up my shaft. She pushed back again, taking in some of the recently lubed shaft.

"Ahhhhh, Gary. So good, sooo good," she sighed.

Forgetting myself, I pushed in, lurching ahead a full inch.

"Ahhhh God, yesss."

I pushed in again, and then again. Once more and I was buried to the hilt. I stayed there, not knowing what to do, until she began pulling herself off my cock. I retreated, as slowly as I could. I stopped before coming out of her completely, unsure if I should, my memory of internet ass fucks failing to provide me with guidance. I started back in and she groaned, but it wasn't in pain, at least not all of it. I tried to go in and stop but failed. Slipping head in steadily, Mrs. Robinson emitted a groan of pleasure such as I had never heard come from a woman, from her or on the internet. She really liked this, that was for sure.

I buried myself to the hilt again, paused for a briefer period, then withdrew, more quickly than before. Barely hesitating, I shoved back in.

"Unngghhhh,"

All the way, then out, and back.

"Unghhhhh."

As I withdrew, Mrs. Robinson whimpered, "Only for you, Gary. Only for you."

I pushed in vigorously.

"Unnnghhhhhh!"

After that, I started fucking her with more confidence, as if I were in her pussy. It was the same except she was still tighter and it felt more exciting, although I didn't know why. Perhaps it was the sounds she emitted, low and guttural, almost animal-like.

I fucked her ass hard, then slow, then hard again, loving how her sounds changed but always sounded wild and abandoned, no matter what. At one point, I shoved her forward and squatted with my thighs straddling her ass, cock deeply embedded, and rocked into her ass, using my thigh muscles to burgeon my cock as thick as I could.

"Fuck it," Mrs. Robinson cried.

"Take it," I hissed. "Take it hard."

She didn't answer except with more ragged moans and groans. I don't know why I suddenly became aggressive but it spun me up to new heights and I could barely contain my orgasm until it burst with explosive force. It felt like I pumped so much spend in her ass that my cock was forced out but it was Mrs. Robinson squeezing me out. I sat back on my haunches, cock flopping before me between her thighs, and watched as my jism oozed out of her ass onto her pussy. The sight made my cock stiffen and I lurched forward, grasping my slippery cock, and fed it inside her cunt. Quickly, I heaved off the rest of my renewed orgasm while Mrs. Robinson flopped helplessly beneath my assault. Her meek acceptance threw me over the edge again.

This time, when I pulled out, I spoke gruffly, "Gary wants it like that all the time."

"I know," she acknowledged with total acceptance.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Our relationship changed after that. Gone was the tentative Allen seeking reward for ever more adventurous excursions outdoors. I became more confident, even when Mr. Robinson was around. Going outside, anywhere, no longer bothered me. Whenever Mr. Robinson was gone, I fucked Mrs. Robinson. In the pussy, in the ass, whatever was my pleasure that day.

Truth be told, I preferred being in her pussy and even liked face-to-face better than from behind, which had been my preference before, probably because it was less like ass-fucking. I loved holding her behind the knees and shoving her legs way back, keeping her immobile, waiting for my pleasure. I learned to work her over leisurely like that, then pounding on her furiously, backing off to go slow for awhile, teasing her, then getting it on again. We loved fucking each other.

Mrs. Robinson started calling me Gary all the time which, at first, really freaked me out. We were having dinner, and Mr. Robinson was in the middle of passing me a bowl of potatoes when Mrs. Robinson said, "I'll have that after you, Gary."

Mr. Robinson froze, the bowl hovering in mid-air just out of my reach from my out-stretched hand. He looked at her but she seemed oblivious, as if nothing had happened. I stared at him, my eyes wide with growing fright. The bowl was suddenly in my hands.

"Pass those to your mother when you're done, Gary," he said, then busied himself cutting his meat.

After that Mrs. Robinson called me Gary with increasing frequency but similar reaction. Mr. Robinson started referring to me as Gary when he spoke to his wife and even called me that directly a few times.

I celebrated by taking Mrs. Robinson for a quickie from behind several times when Mr. Robinson was in the house. The first time, I caught her by surprise, passing by her in the upstairs hallway. Suddenly, I caught her by the shoulders and turned her into the wall. By the time she protested, I had yanked her skirt up and was already feeding my unlimbered cock between her legs, skidding her panties aside. It was a quick, huffing and puffing affair. The next time, she was ready. When I cornered her in the hallway, she turned to the wall and lifted her skirt. She wasn't wearing panties.

That's when I started down another path, one which, thankfully, didn't last too long. However, it went too far and I've always felt bad about it.

Watching internet porn for ideas, I got an urge to come in Mrs. Robinson's face. By this time, she was in the habit of giving me a blowjob on days when she and I couldn't get some time by ourselves for a nice fuck. It was always a neat affair, even when we were rushed. Mrs. Robinson always knew when I was about to unload and always seemed able to take it all, never spilling a drop.

But on this one day, Mrs. Robinson was down on her knees, taking me deep. I had pushed her forehead back and was feeding it into her mouth, slowly, trying to get in as far as I could. I had been doing this the last few times and really got off on making her gag a bit because it made her mouth fill with oozy saliva. Don't ask me why that made me so horny, I don't have the answer, but it did.

Well, I had plunged my cock into her really deep and she almost coughed it out, sputtering spit all over. When I pulled my cock away, a long, sticky string of gooey saliva stretched across the gulf separating her chin and my cock. For some reason, this looked incredibly erotic to me and I let go, surprising myself and Mrs. Robinson.

My spunk splashed across her face, covering her chin and nose, then again, spurting across her right cheek and eye, even reaching to her hair. Mrs. Robinson flinched and tried to pull away but my fingers tightened in her hair, holding her still, while I stretched up on my toes and pointed my cock down, releasing the rest of my load in several more youthful bursts until her face was covered. 


Unhurriedly, I holstered my cock, looking down upon Mrs. Robinson and enjoying the look of her subjugated before me. She didn't move, she didn't even try to wipe it away, instead sitting quietly in front of me as if to enhance my pleasure. I looked up and out the window to where Mr. Robinson was conversing with Mr. Jacobs from across the street, as he'd been doing when Mrs. Robinson first went down on her knees and took me into her mouth. I turned away and went to my room.

After that, I came in Mrs. Robinson's face every time she blew me. I became obsessed with it, pulling out of her widespread legs and scrambling over her torso to unload in her face. She never complained. She always took it though I was sure she didn't really like it. All that did was make me want to do it even more. Why? I didn't think about it much, but when I did I had no answer and quickly put it out of my mind. Usually the thought of my disgusting behavior just made me want to do it again and I would seek her out.

It got so bad that one Saturday morning, when Mr. Robinson was having his morning shower before leaving to meet his golfing buddies, I crept carefully onto Mrs. Robinson's bed, so as not to wake her, my throbbing cock in hand, well worked over and ready to go, and released a full load into her sleeping face.

She yanked her head back, eyes sputtering open as she woke up, realizing what had happened and groaning, flopping down on the bed. I clambered closer to her and squirted the rest of my spend on her messy face, wringing my cock to squeeze out the last drop, before climbing off the bed and making my escape.

I waited until the Mr. Robinson left the house but then immediately returned to the scene of the crime. Mrs. Robinson was lying under the covers, completely covered, head and all. I pulled the covers off. She was lying on her side, a pillow over her head, and her legs tucked up so her knees were touching her chin. I got up behind her and gently pulled the pillow off. There she was, in all her glory, still covered in my cum. She had simply covered herself while her husband dressed, and laid there with my cum all over her face!

I started breathing so fast I thought I was going to have a heart attack. I was actually grunting as I pushed her right knee off her left and onto the bed, yanked her nightgown up her back and shoved my cock into her cunt. Lurching and lunging, I brought myself to the quickest orgasm I had ever experienced, fucking her as hard as I could. She looked so fucking hot!

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So what brought my demeaning behavior to an end, you ask? It was a simple trip to the bedroom, later that same day.

I had flopped onto the bed after unloading inside Mrs. Robinson. She had got up and showered and dressed, then left, saying she was going to make me breakfast. I got up to follow some ten or fifteen minutes later, anguishing over how aggressive I had become, but something made me turn left instead of right when I exited Mrs. Robinson's bedroom.

I walked down the hall to Gary's old room where we had often played together as kids. I opened the door, slipped inside, and closed it behind me. This place was sacrosanct.

I was in there for at least half an hour but Mrs. Robinson didn't call out to rouse me for breakfast. I heard her come up the stairs and go into her room, heard her come out, pause, come toward her son's room, then her footsteps retreated and she went back downstairs. Not long after that, I went down for breakfast. She didn't say anything, didn't ask me why I was in Gary's room. All she did was greet me with her typical cheer.

"Good morning, Gary. What should we do today until Mr. Robinson gets back?"

"I don't know. What do you think Dad will want to do?"

That didn't surprise Mrs. Robinson. I had been calling Mr. Robinson that for a few days. It had just slipped out and had caused even less of a reaction than Mrs. Robinson calling me Gary so I kept doing it. After all, saying Mr. Robinson all the time was awkward. I called them Mom and Dad now. It seemed like the right thing to do.

I never came in Mrs. Robinson's face again. Or, should I say Mom's? I learned how to make love to her properly and I'm still doing it, almost every day. On Sundays, Dad and I go out on the boat.

So here's the thing. In that room, I looked at Gary's things but it was the pictures that interested me the most. Not his graduation picture, the one of him by himself. No, it was the ones with his parents that got to me. There were lots, from the time Gary was a little kid. I was so shocked, it took me a while to digest them. Why were they shocking, you might ask?

The face in the pictures was me.




