Aunt Maggie's Ministuds
by Gina Green


FOREWORD 

In several respects Aunt Maggie's Ministuds is a most unusual work of erotic 
fiction. Its subject matter alone-a brothel catering to elderly ladies and 
employing preteen boys as prostitutes-is destined to raise a few eyebrows if 
nothing else. Secondly, it is the author's first book in which she appears 
as herself, Gina Green, both as narrator and one of the participants in the 
action of the story. However, as Miss Green explains in her casually direct 
way, "this story's not about me, I just wanted to let you know how I 
happened to be in a position to know all this shit." But the most unusual 
aspect of this book is the manner in which the author has chosen to present 
her material. 

Ordinarily, books about houses of prostitution emphasize either the squalor 
or the grandeur of the brothel. They either concentrate on the depravity of 
prostitution or attempt to glorify it. They dwell on the down-dragging guilt 
complexes of those who sell their bodies, or on their intense obsession with 
sin, or on the "white slavery" angle. In all these areas Aunt Maggie's 
Ministuds constitutes a radical departure. 

Miss Green leaves the condemnation or defense of the world's oldest 
profession to others. Aunt Maggie's whorehouse is just a small 
hotel-somewhat old and rundown, one gathers-called the Sago, and she 
describes the activities that take place in it rather as another writer 
might describe a sack race or a log-rolling tournament at a county fair. Not 
that emotion or sexual excitement is missing: This must be the waterbed, she 
thought and, steadying herself, began a groping advance, slithering forward 
on her belly like a snake. 

She hadn't groped far before her hand came in contact with a foot. A small 
foot. Ah-ha, she thought. Ankle, shin, knee, thigh. . . . Mmmmmmmmm! 

Oh, this felt like a nice one! Solid, hairless little balls, drawn up tight 
between his smooth little legs. Firm asscheeks, tight crack, warm-Oh, he was 
ready, too! His buttocks clenched on her probing finger and his stiff little 
cock sprang into her other hand, twitching. Mm. Uncircumcised, like Jack's. 
She skinned it down and found the hard bullet-nosed head all slick and warm. 
Thin, hot, oily fluid welled up out of the little hole under her thumb and 
she slid her thumb off and tasted it with the tip of her tongue. Mmmmmm! 
Delicious! -And far more intense scenes than this can be found by merely 
flipping through these pages. We mean only that the author uses no more 
words on the morality or immorality of such things than one would use on 
something as wholesome as a county fair. 

She makes no attempt to psychoanalyze her characters as she has done 
occasionally in the past. There is only one direct reference to guilt, a 
brief one at that: "I think Adeline's stiffness was a sort of unconscious 
self-punishment, the result of a long-standing guilt complex, but I don't 
know the psychology behind the root of this guilt-her sexual desire for 
little boys in general, Jack (her son) in particular." And, significantly, 
Miss Green adds: "Frankly, I don't much give shit about it, either. I've got 
more than enough to fill this book up without going into all that shrink 
stuff." 

The feeling that this novel attempts to convey-and perhaps succeeds-namely 
that the sexplay which takes place at the homey little Sago Hotel, even 
though much of it is between mothers and their young sons, is just good 
clean fun-is heightened by its lack of reference to the fact that "crimes," 
in the legal sense, are being committed. True, Aunt Maggie's operations in 
New York, where she first engaged in the little boy trade, were broken up by 
the police; but this sort of thing has no more importance in the book than 
does the psychology of the characters. The insignificance of this 
law-breaking aspect is accented in the following scene. 

A few minutes ago Aunt Maggie's sister Rose, Rose's son and her lover Oscar 
walked into the lobby of the Sago to find Oscar's son Teddy performing 
cunnilingus on Aunt Maggie at the reception desk. Earlier, a drunk named 
George Hellow had been pestering Maggie, trying to beg a free piece of 
"merchandise." Rose says: "Stevie's right, you know. . . . You shouldn't be 
doing that stuff in the lobby. What if a cop had come in?" 

"Cops I can handle," Maggie said, stuffing her tit back into her dress and 
mopping her shaggy crotch with a wad of Kleenex. "But I wish that goddamned 
old wino would stop hangin' around here." 

An "old wino," then, is more of an annoyance than the police. 

By reducing the moral, psychological and legal difficulties to relative 
unimportance, the way is cleared for a tale of "pure" sexual entertainment, 
and, as you will see, Miss Green makes the most of it. And yet, it is this 
very thing-this "clearing of the way," this concern only with the fun of 
sex-which perhaps makes Aunt Maggie's Ministuds something more than a 
stimulating erotic comedy. It is possible-though not necessary-to see here a 
significant, if subtle, statement of social protest on the lines of Dr. Lars 
Ullerstam's The Erotic Minorities, a "sexual bill of rights." 

Because the type of sex dealt with here is what is usually referred to as 
"perverted," and to treat it so causally and good humouredly, as though it 
were a perfectly legitimate and acceptable mode of behavior, is to transport 
the reader into a make-believe world of almost total social tolerance. It is 
as though Miss Green is saying, "This is the way it ought to be." 

This interpretation is strengthened by the occasional references, widely 
spaced throughout the book, to the recent National Democratic Convention in 
Miami, during which the action of much of the story takes place. At first 
sight these references seem to be inserted merely for humorous purposes. But 
the last of them-which comes in the middle of a no-holds-barred, 
free-for-all orgy including all the major characters (Miss Green herself not 
excepted) is in the form of a quote from the aborted abortion plank of the 
Democratic Party's platform: "... and that a woman should have legal 
jurisdiction over the sexual and physical functions of her own body. ..." 

We are suggesting, therefore, that hidden in the ribald, sometimes slapstick 
eroticism of Aunt Maggie's Ministuds may be a plea for tolerance similar to 
the less disguised one in Philosophy of the Bedroom by the Marquis de Sade, 
in which Dolmance tells Eugenie that in the field of sexual inclinations 
nothing is extraordinary. "All are a part of Nature," Dolmance says; "when 
she created men"-and women, Gina Green would add-"she was pleased to vary 
their tastes as she made different their countenances, and we ought no more 
be astonished at the diversity she has put in our features than at that she 
has placed in our affections." 

You will find the Rated X books, along with their companions, the Surrey 
Collectors Series and the HIS 69 gay titles at your favorite adult bookstore 
or newsstand each and every month. Serious collectors of strictly adult 
reading will want them all, side by side on their private book shelves for 
definite re-reading and ready reference. 

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better serve you. We urge you to write us with exact details of what kind of 
books you would like to read, and any other sexual matters you are concerned 
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Only you can do it. We here at Surrey House, Inc. only exist to serve you in 
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All especially significant letters will be answered directly, and all story 
suggestions will be turned over to our staff of writers all over the world. 

-THE PUBLISHERS 

 CHAPTER ONE 

One night a couple of months ago, Mrs. Adeline Charles was standing outside 
the bathroom window behind her house, watching her young son Jack jacking 
off. Adeline is forty seven and Jack is twelve. It wasn't the first time 
big-dick Jack had jacked off but it was the first time Adeline had watched 
him do it. It gave her a start when he spit in his hand. 

Splat! 

She jerked her hand out of her crotch and almost ran away. That's how keyed 
up she was. Adeline Charles was not at all the sort of lady you would expect 
to find peeping into windows. If you had known her and had found out she was 
peeping into a window, you would have thought she was doing it to catch 
somebody at something in order to punish them for it. That was the sort of 
person Adeline was-the punishing sort. 

In this respect she and young Jack made a good pair, because Jack was always 
doing something to get punished for. 

He wasn't exactly what you would call a "hell-raiser," he was too quiet and 
sullen for that. He was more the "lone destroyer" type. 

During the first week of school this year, for instance, after gaining his 
teacher's confidence with his good behavior and studious classroom manners, 
he had blown up her desk with a homemade bomb and gotten himself expelled 
from the sixth grade. So Adeline had to send him to a private school, where 
he made a remarkably good impression on the principal. 

This same principal, a few weeks later, after issuing Jack's first report 
card on which he got an E in citizenship, made Adeline pay for a complete 
paint job on the inside of the girls' bathroom. It seemed that Jack had 
slipped in there after school with a spray can of Dayglo red and decorated 
the walls, floor and ceiling with gigantic erect pricks, huge wide-open 
cunts, and clever little epigrams like "Mrs. Harmond eats shit" and things 
like that. 

These are only a few examples of the way young Jack Charles liked to spend 
his spare time. It might have been different if his father, who was and 
still is in Vietnam, had been home to help Adeline raise the little monster, 
but I doubt it. He would probably have grown up to be an assassin or an FBI 
man if it hadn't been for Aunt Maggie and Rose. 

Aunt Maggie is not really my aunt, she's little Stevie's aunt, but that's 
what everybody calls her. Rose-Rose Sanders-is Stevie's mama, Aunt Maggie's 
sister. They're both in their early forties and Stevie is the same age as 
Jack. Well get to Aunt Maggie later, but as for Rose and Stevie, they had a 
lot to do with Adeline being back there at the bathroom window watching Jack 
fuck his fist. 

They had a lot to do with Jack fucking his fist, too. 

One of the things that got Jack horny was in his hand-not the hand he had 
his prick in-and the other thing was in his head. Both things related 
directly to Rose and Stevie's visit that afternoon. 

The thing in his hand was a clipping from a dirty magazine which Stevie had 
slipped him on the sly while they were getting dressed after their swim. 
Adeline had had a pool installed in the back yard to keep Jack out of 
trouble. Jack had found a way to short out the motor that ran the filter 
pump but Adeline had bought a new one and had it enclosed in a steel box 
with a lock. 

The steel box would have been a pushover for Jack, but he liked to strike in 
unexpected places. He was basically a guerrilla fighter and generally 
avoided a pitched battle. 

Anyway, the clipping was a color photograph of a blonde lady with big tits 
and a very young boy sitting on her knee. Both of them were naked and the 
boy was sucking on one of the lady's nipples. She was holding his stiff 
little boy prick between her thumb and forefinger and he had his hand stuck 
halfway into her hairy cunt. 

Standing on her tiptoes on the brick planter below the bathroom window, 
clutching the windowsill with one hand and her crotch with the other, 
Adeline could see this nasty picture pretty well, but she didn't know Jack 
had gotten it from Stevie. If she had, she might have put two and two 
together and realized that her horniness and Jack's might have arisen from 
the same source, namely Rose Sanders. 

That was the other thing, the thing in Jack's head that was working in 
combination with the thing in his hand to make his little prick throb like 
an electric eel: Mrs. Sanders in general, her cunt in particular. Its dark 
hairiness under her skirt was like a big bad beautiful spider in his memory, 
luring him into the seductive silkiness of its web. 

Adeline could see the picture in his hand, but of course she couldn't see 
the one in his head. She didn't know Rose had shown Jack her super hairy 
cunt because Rose had been very clever about it. Besides, even though Rose 
seemed to have changed somewhat, Adeline would never have suspected her of 
doing anything like that with a boy child. 

Adeline and Rose had been friends for a long time. They used to keep each 
other company when their husbands went fishing together. Then, after Rose's 
husband died and Adeline's was transferred overseas, they belonged to the 
same bridge club. Since Rose had dropped out of the club last summer, 
because the meetings were interfering with her church work, they hadn't seen 
too much of each other, but they were still good friends. 

What Adeline didn't know was that Rose had dropped out of church, too. The 
church work was interfering with her, um, other activities. 

Anyway, it had been some time since the two ladies had gotten together for a 
chat, so when Rose called up that morning, Adeline hadn't hesitated to 
invite her and Stevie over for tea. 

"We have a pool now," Adeline had said, "so the boys can swim while we 
talk." 

It was while the boys were swimming and their mothers were talking that Rose 
showed little Jack her big hairy cunt. At first Jack hadn't paid any 
attention to her. As far as he was concerned, she was just another 
straight-laced old bitch like his mother and his teachers and every other 
grown-up female he knew. That was the way Rose used to be, before Aunt 
Maggie came down from up north, and of course Jack had no way of knowing she 
had changed. 

He and Stevie had been grab-assing around near the edge of the pool when 
Stevie nudged him under the water and nodded slyly toward the patio where 
the ladies were sitting. 

"Look," Stevie whispered. "You can see Mama's pussy." 

Damned if you couldn't. Jack swallowed a mouthful of pool water and choked 
on it. Stevie slapped him on the back and Adeline said, "John, are you all 
right?" She always called him John because she was a very formal sort and 
didn't like nicknames. 

Jack coughed, said, "Yes, Ma'am," because that was the way his mother 
insisted he address her, and the two boys went splashing around to the other 
side of the pool, giggling hysterically. 

"Whatever is the matter with those children?" Adeline asked. 

"Oh, they're just having fun," Rose said, crossing her legs and pulling her 
skirt a little higher up her thighs. 

Adeline would have been shocked to see how much leg Rose was displaying, but 
she couldn't see it because the little patio table they were sitting at 
blocked her view. The only difference Adeline noticed in Rose from the last 
time she had seen her was that Rose's breasts looked larger than they used 
to. She was a slim woman and Adeline had always thought of her as 
flat-chested. That was because Rose used to always wear those steel-boned 
things that smash your tits down, but now she wore the boneless natural-look 
type bras. 

She wished she could go without a bra altogether like her daughter Patty and 
me, but she thought she was a little too old for that. 

Of course Adeline kept this observation of her friend's bosom to herself. 
Ladies didn't talk about things like that. It puzzled her, though, and made 
her feel slightly uneasy, too. Because Adeline had a pretty heavy set of 
jugs herself for a lady pushing fifty, and this had always given her a sort 
of unconscious feeling of superiority over Rose. Now this feeling was 
diminished by Rose's mysterious expansion. 

And there was something else-something even more disturbing: it seemed to 
Adeline that every time she turned to watch the boys playing in the pool. . 
. well, it was absurd of course, but it seemed to her that Rose somehow knew 
what she was thinking. 

If this were true it would have been simply awful! Because the things that 
went pulsing through Adeline's mind when she looked at those delicious 
little half naked boys were far more shameful in her opinion than any 
thoughts she may have had concerning Rose's tits. She tried to suppress this 
silly notion and cleared her throat. 

"I tell you, Rose," she said, "I have to watch that boy every minute to keep 
him out of mischief." 

Rose gave her an enigmatic smile and said, "Maybe he needs a hobby or 
something." 

"Oh, he has a very good hobby already," Adeline said. 

"Really? What is it?" Rose asked. 

"Wrecking things," said Adeline, not smiling at all. 

The boys had improvised a sort of "squirrel blind" from an inner tube and a 
rubber raft. By resting their chins on the raft and holding the inner tube 
on their heads, they could peek out between the tube and the raft and the 
women couldn't see what they were looking at. Kicking their feet, they 
propelled this ungainly craft over to the patio side of the pool and lay in 
wait for their prey, the Hairy Squirrel of Crotch Valley. 

Jack couldn't have been more excited if he'd been stalking the Abominable 
Snowman. 

They didn't have very long to wait. 

No sooner had they brought the raft to rest and adjusted their observation 
slot than Stevie's mother uncrossed her legs and her big hairy cunt hove 
into view again. 

"Wow!" Jack whispered. "She's not even wearin' any pants!" 

"I know," Stevie said. "She hardly ever does." 

"No shit?!" 

"No shit." 

It was as perfect a boreshot as any twelve-year-old boy could hope for. 
Rose's skirt was almost in her lap by now and the bright rays of the 
afternoon sun were shining straight into her hair-shrouded crotch so that 
the whole thing hung out, crack and all, without even a shadow to get in the 
way. 

Then Rose opened her thighs wider and the darkly bearded lips parted a 
little, baring the bright pink inner flesh at the top of her slit and the 
spooky-looking hole at the bottom, just above where the crack of her ass 
started. It was the first real-life cunt Jack had ever seen and it really 
shook him up. 

His big little prick felt like it was going to break out of his bathing suit 
and his nuts actually hurt. 

Stevie nudged him and said, "How'd ya like to fuck that?" 

Jack thought that was a funny thing to say about your own mother. He wasn't 
a boy that was easily embarrassed, but that embarrassed him. Besides that, 
it scared him. He had only a vague idea of what was meant by the word 
"fuck," and hearing it now, while staring into that hungry-looking gash, 
gave him a very weird feeling, like he was about to be eaten alive. 

"Hey, stop rockin' the boat," Stevie said hastily. 

Finally, in a whisper that trembled in spite of a brave effort to steady it, 
Jack said, "How come she's got all that hair around it?" 

"All cunts have hair around 'em," Stevie told him. "Except for little 
girls." 

That was news to Jack. He tried to bluff his way through it: "Yeah, but. . . 
not that much." 

"Shit," Stevie said. "You think that's hairy, you oughta see the bush on my 
Aunt Maggie." 

"You never seen it." 

"I have, too. It's red all around her pussy hole." Red?! Now Jack knew 
Stevie was bullshitting him. "It is not," he said. 

"It is, too," said Stevie. "She dyes it." 

"She does not." 

"She does, too. I think that's what makes it sorta stiff, like steel wool 
sorta, except not that scratchy. Mama's is a lot softer." 

"Shit," Jack sneered. "You never felt of it." 

Stevie looked at him as though he had said something incomprehensible. 
"Haven't you ever felt of your mother's bush?" 

While Jack was trying to figure out what to say to that, a startling 
realization suddenly dawned on him: Jesus! Mrs. Sanders must KNOW we're 
lookin' at her pussy! She must be showin' it to us on purpose! He swallowed 
another mouthful of water and there was very little conviction in his voice 
when he finally said, "Ladies don't let little kids ... do stuff like that 
to 'em." 

"Like hell they don't! They like it." 

"They ... like it?" 

"Sure. Listen, later on I'll show ya a picture of a lady fucking a little 
black-" 

"What are you boys whispering about?" Adeline demanded, and that ended that 
part of their conversation. 

"Nothin'," Jack said, and the raft capsized. 

It also ended their squirrel shooting for the day. Figuring they'd bagged 
their limit, Rose crossed her legs and smoothed her skirt down. Now that 
that part of it was taken care of, she turned to Adeline and concentrated 
her attention on phase two. 

"You know, Adeline, that boy of yours is certainly growing up into a 
tine-looking young man." 

"Yes," Adeline said-and Rose didn't miss the slight blush that came to her 
cheeks-"but he's such a burden on me. You wouldn't believe some of the 
things he does." 

"Well, boys will be boys, you know," Rose said with another of those 
mysterious, unnerving smiles. "And anyway, it could be a lot worse. Have you 
heard those stories that have been going around about the Sago Hotel?" 

"The Sago Hotel?" Adeline said, tearing her gaze from those two lithe little 
suntanned bodies frolicking in the clear blue water. "No, what stories?" 

"Well, you know what the Sago is, don't you?" 

"I've, ah, heard rumors that it's a house of, ah-" 

"Yes, well, the rumors are apparently true. But the hotel is under new 
management now and I understand they've added something." Rose leaned across 
the table toward Adeline and spoke behind her hand in a low voice: "I hear 
they have young boys now as well as girls." 

"No!" Adeline said, putting her hand over her mouth. 

Rose sat back in her chair and nodded, smiling with mischievous satisfaction 
at her friend's expression of shock. "Yes," she said. 

"You mean . ..? Boys to go to bed with?" 

"Young boys," Rose said. "Like between ten and twelve. You should be 
thankful your John isn't involved in anything like that." 

"Why, I've never heard of anything so-! But . . . but what man would pay to 
. . .? I mean-" 

"Oh, I imagine there are some men around who would go for that kind of 
thing, but according to the story-and I heard it from someone who should 
know-the boys are mostly in demand from women, usually ladies somewhat... 
well, past their prime,"-and with what seemed to Adeline an almost lewd down 
slanting glance at Adeline's body, Rose added:-"like us." 

This time Adeline's blush was a deep apple-red. It felt like somebody had 
put a heating pad on her face. Why, Rose Sanders had never discussed such 
things with her before! 

"Good heavens!" she said. "What sort of woman would stoop so low as to . . 
.as to .. . " She waited for Rose to help her out, but Rose didn't say 
anything, she just took a cigarette from her purse, lit it, took a deep drag 
which made her breasts swell disconcertingly inside the front of her dress 
as though to show Adeline they were real, blew a stream of smoke toward the 
boys in the pool, looked at Adeline and waited with cruel patience for her 
to finish her sentence. This was especially disturbing because Adeline knew 
for a fact that Rose didn't smoke-at least she didn't used to smoke. And 
then there were those breasts-she didn't used to have them, either. 

With every passing moment it was becoming clearer and clearer to Adeline 
that this was definitely not the Rose Sanders she had known for so long. 
Whatever has come over her? Adeline thought. And why is she looking at me 
like that? She took a gulp of tea, wishing it were brandy, and tried to 
continue: "... as to actually ... go to a place like that and .. . and ..." 

At last Rose took mercy on the poor woman. "I don't know," she said with a 
shrug. "But I understand they're not worried about finding customers. The 
new madam is supposed to have had an operation like this up north, and I 
understand it was quite lucrative, to say the least." 

"Good heavens," Adeline said, stunned. 

Then Rose said something that really freaked Adeline out. She said, "I 
wouldn't mind paying a little visit to the place myself." 

"Rose!" 

"I mean, just to see if it's really true." 

"Oh . . .yes, of course, but... my goodness, you mean you'd actually walk in 
there and ask them if they ... ?" Again Rose just sat there waiting, forcing 
poor Adeline to finish her question. By now Adeline was sweating like a 
horse and, more to the point, the crotch of her panties was soaked with cunt 
juice. "... if they have any little boys?" 

"Oh, no, you'd have to go as a customer, and show them some money or else 
you wouldn't find out anything. I'd kind of like to try it if I could afford 
it, but I imagine it would be pretty expensive." Rose took another drag on 
her cigarette and added, again with that sly grin, "Wouldn't you?" 

"W-wouldn't I what?" Adeline asked in a shady voice. 

"Like to try it," Rose said. 

"Tr-?" Try what? is what Adeline started to say, but at this point her 
throat closed up on her and she could hardly breathe, let alone speak. 

Rose mercifully pretended not to notice that her friend was coming apart at 
the seams and said that it was getting late, she and Stevie had better be 
getting home. 

"This has really been fun, Adeline. We'll have to start seeing each other 
more often. Next time, you and John must come over to my place. Why, you 
haven't even met my sister Maggie yet, have you? Come on out now, Stevie! We 
have to go." 

So that was what got Adeline hot enough to make her most ambitious attempt 
yet to get a look at little Jack jerking his always hard joint that evening. 
She just couldn't get the thought of that whorehouse with the little boys 
out of her head. 

Rose's story had got her so fucked up she couldn't even eat her supper, and 
she blushed every time Jack said something. He didn't say much, though, 
because he was pretty rucked up, too. When he looked at his plate all he 
could see was Stevie's mother's cunt. And that dirty picture in his pocket 
was burning a hole in his leg. He could hardly wait to lock himself into the 
bathroom and examine it in detail, and Adeline could hardly wait to get 
outside the bathroom window and examine Jack's prick in detail. As we've 
seen, both of these things came to pass. 

Adeline's previous peeping attempts were sporadic and timid, and therefore 
unproductive. She had tried opening the bathroom door while Jack was taking 
a shower, hoping to see something through the glass door of the shower 
stall, and she'd tried the keyhole bit a few times, but both of these 
methods failed. She had also tried the window peeking thing, but usually the 
glass jalousies were closed or slanted too much for her to see anything 
except the top of Jack's head as he sat on the pot, even when she worked up 
enough courage to step up onto the edge of the brick planter. 

One time the jalousies had been open but Jack had just been sitting there on 
the toilet, reading the latest issue of Demolition Comics. 

This time Adeline wasn't giving up so easy. She was prepared to stay at her 
post until something happened-at least until she got a good look at her 
little son's big erect cock-even if it took all night. It didn't, of course. 
Even finding the jalousies shut didn't sway Adeline from her purpose-and 
this was the boldest thing she'd ever done in her life. Gambling that Jack 
wouldn't be watching the window, she had wedged her fingers between two of 
the louvers and slowly, carefully, holding her breath, opened them all the 
way. What she saw was far better than anything she'd dared hope for! 

By now the edge of one of the louvers had almost cut into her forehead, she 
was pressing so hard against it, getting as close as she possibly could to 
the stiff, throbbing, spit-slick object of her lust. She had her nightgown 
pulled up to her waist, holding it there with her left hand while she 
fingered herself with her right. The cunt syrup was literally pouring down 
her legs, and sometimes her strokes got so violent the jalousie her head was 
pressed against made a little clicking noise in its brackets. 

Luckily, Jack thought it was just the wind. There wasn't any wind that 
night, but his little head was too full of other things to worry about shit 
like that. 

Spit, splat! Oh, dear! Clickitty, clickitty, click! 

Swish, swish, swish! went Jack's hand. 

The blunt little rubbed-raw head of his much-handled prick was like a 
flashing red light as his foreskin covered and uncovered it at Morse-code 
frequency. 

Flash, flash, flash! Swish, swish, swish! Flash, swish! Flash, swish! 

It wasn't the picture itself that added so much to Adeline's excitement, it 
was the fact that her little boy was looking at it, at a dirty picture, the 
dirtiest picture Adeline had ever seen, staring at it with his mouth open 
and his eyelids trembling, jacking off and probably wishing he was the boy 
in the picture, and that she, his own mother, was watching him, jacking off 
right along with him, less than two yards away from him, allowing him to do 
it, longing to reach in and take that adorable little thing in her own hand, 
smear it with her fragrant cunt juice, rub the juice all around its smooth 
hairless root, to take those lovely little balls in her slimy palm and slip 
a finger into the crack of his ass, both of them sitting there together, 
naked, masturbating each other, looking at the dirty picture, panting 
together and-! 

Oh! Squish! went Adeline's cunt as her orgasm ambushed her like a giant 
octopus. Her stomach knotted up, her knees shook violently and it's a wonder 
she didn't fall off the planter and break her ass. Squish! Squish! Squish! 
Oh!-oh!-oh!-And the jalousie went clickitty, clickitty, clack! 

Luckily, Jack got off at about the same time or else he surely would have 
noticed the rattling at the window. 

He jumped off the toilet, squatted over it, threw his head back, held the 
clipping up in front of his face and, with a tremendous spasm-jerk that 
started at his ass and whiplashed all the way up to his neck, shot his 
sticky boy cum load on the wall. Splat! went his young cum. Splat! Splat! 
Splat! "Uhg!" he grunted. "Uhg! Uhg! Uhh!" Squish! Squish! Squish! went his 
mother's cunt. Oh, Jack! Jack! Oh, my little darling! Oh! Oh-! Splat! Splat! 

The cum ran down the wall in gooey streams with little yellowish globules in 
it and the hot cream gushed from Adeline's swollen cunt like boiling yogurt. 

Gush! 

Splat! 

Sqh! 

"Uhg!" Oh-! 

That's all Adeline can remember of it, try as she might. I guess her mind 
sort of went numb on her after such a powerful orgasm. She doesn't know how 
she got back to her bedroom, but she got there somehow and spent the rest of 
the night dreaming about fucking Jack in a strange hotel with dirty pictures 
all over the walls and little boys with big hard peckers running naked 
through the halls. 

CHAPTER TWO 

What Rose didn't tell Adeline about the Sago Hotel is that the "new 
management" consisted of none other than her sister, Maggie McDonald. While 
Rose was fingering her dribbling snatch at the bathroom window, Aunt Maggie 
was sitting at her desk in the lobby of the hotel trying to get rid of a 
troublesome old wino by the name of George Hello w. 

"I don't like to be pesterin' ya all the time, Mizz Martha," George was 
saying, "but y'see-" 

"The name's Maggie," Aunt Maggie grunted. 

"Huh? Ain't that what I said?" 

Aunt Maggie's eyelids fluttered and her nostrils flared. Her plump hands 
were rigid and pressed flat to the top of the desk. Her huge powdered tits 
bulged up out of the superlow-cut neckline of her sparkly red dress, 
expanding at a sort of pulsating rhythm like a couple of beach balls being 
blown up with a hand pump. She appeared to be in some kind of a strain. 

"Uh... You feelin' okay, Mizz Maggie?" George said, closing one bloodshot 
eye and turning his head to the side, peering at her from behind the bony 
bridge of his long, red, bulb-tipped nose. 

Maggie made a little gasping noise in her throat, tried to compose herself, 
and said, "I'd feel a hell of a lot better if you'd get the fuck outta here, 
George." 

"Uh, sure, sure, Mizz Maggie," said George, backing away from the desk a few 
steps and putting his battered old hat on his bald head. "I was just 
leavin'. But see, what I was gonna say, the lady used t' run this place, 
Mizz Sally, she used to, uh . . . Well, see, me and her was like that"-he 
crossed his knobby fingers and shook them for emphasis-"and she used to, uh, 
you know, give me credit whenever I was a little shy o' the fee, y' know. 
And I was just wonderin'-" 

"I know," Maggie said with another grunt, and her boobs looked like they 
were about to come leaping right out the top of her dress. "You owe her 
three hundred and seventy-five dollars, except now you owe it to me, since I 
bought her out." 

"Oh, I'll pay it, Mizz Maggie, I'll pay it for sure. Just as soon as I get 
m'self straightened out. I ain't a man to run out on a debt, no sir. I was 
just wonderin', uh, if you could just gimme about three minutes"-he winked, 
grinned and nodded toward the door behind the desk-"back there in yer 
office-" 

"I'm busy, George. Please go away now," she said. 

"Hen, heh, heh. That's where Mizz Sally used t' give it to me, back there on 
that sofa in the office. It don't take me long, Mizz Maggie, that ain't no 
shit. You just ask Mizz Sally. Just gimme two minutes. You can time me. If I 
ain't got my gun in two minutes, you can-" 

"I said I'm busy, George," Maggie growled. (This was quite true, too, as 
you'll see in a minute.) 

"Oh, sure, sure. But, uh, maybe if one o' the gals ain't tied up-" 

"They are." 

"I'm tellin' ya, Mizz Maggie, it ain't gonna take me long. I'm just about t' 
bust m' goddamn nuts just standin' here lookin' at them jugs o' yours. Say, 
how 'bout if I just kinda slip around behind ya there and, uh, you know, 
slip it in one time? Huh? You wouldn't hardly know-" 

"Go away, George," Maggie said, closing her eyes and gripping the edge of 
the desk. 

"Sure, sure, Mizz Maggie, but see, it's been so goddamn long since I got me 
a piece o' tail, I just can't hardly-" 

"Are you gonna leave on your own two legs or would ya rather I'd have ya 
thrown out on your bony ass?" 

"But, Mizz Maggie," George whined, unzipping the fly of his baggy trousers 
and starting to haul out his cock, "just take a look at this-" 

"GET OUT!" Maggie roared, and finally George retreated, zipping up as he 
went. 

"Jesus Christ," he muttered as he shuffled out the door. "Hell of a way t' 
treat a man tryin' t' get hisself straightened out. Shit, when Mizz Sally 
was here-whoops!" He almost ran into the lady who was coming up the front 
steps of the hotel with a little boy at her side. This was Rose and Stevie. 
Behind them came a tall gentleman carrying a tool box or something. That was 
Oscar Rollins, the man who lived with Rose. 

George stepped aside, gave Rose the once-over, tipped his hat as she passed 
by him and said, "Evenin', ma'am." Rose ignored him and Oscar gave him a 
dirty look. 

It is a cruel world. 

Maggie's chin was bouncing on her chest now, her shag-cut red hair lashing 
her face, and she was clutching the edge of the desk with all her strength. 
The right side of her neckline had slipped off her shoulder and fallen down 
to her elbow, her right tit was hanging all the way out, plunging up and 
down like a balloon full of buttermilk, the big brown nipple swollen up as 
big as a plum, and she was drooling into her cleavage. This is the way Rose 
and the others found her when they entered the lobby. 

"Hey, Aunt Maggie!" Stevie cried, running to the desk "Guess what Mama did 
today! She showed Jack Charles her hairy cunt and he . .. 

Hey, what's the matter, Aunt Maggie?" 

Maggie lifted her head and looked at them with glazed eyes. She went, "Ah 
(gasp)! Ah (gasp)! Ah (gasp)." 

"What's with her?" Oscar said, setting down his tool chest and coming up 
behind Stevie. 

Rose laughed and said, "I bet I know." She went around to the corner of the 
long desk and looked behind it. "That's what I thought." 

"What's she got back there?" Oscar asked with a grin. 

"Come and see for yourself," Rose said. 

Oscar and Stevie went around there and saw a little naked boy on his knees 
under the desk. 

Maggie just kept on grunting and gasping. 

"Ah (gasp)! Ah (gasp)! Ah (gasp)!" 

Her heavy, black-net-sheathed legs were spread as far as they would go and 
her skirt was bunched up around her waist. Her black bikini panties were on 
the floor and the little boy's head was nodding furiously between her 
thighs, the lower part of his face buried in the bright orange curls of her 
shaggy bush. He was holding the fat jaws of her stinky cunt open with his 
thumbs and going at it like a pig at the slop trough. 

Slurp, slurp, slurp, slurp, slurp, slurp, slurp-! 

It's no wonder Aunt Maggie had such a hard time talking to old George 
Hellow. 

"Well, I'll be goddamned," Oscar chuckled, lifting Rose's skirt and slipping 
a big scaly finger into her fiery twat. 

"Stop that, you dirty old man," Rose murmured, kissing him on the cheek and 
biting his ear. 

"Hey, Teddy's not supposed to be eatin' Aunt Maggie right out here in the 
lobby," Stevie complained to his mother. "How come he gets to do that, 
Mama?" 

Teddy is Oscar's youngest son. He's the same age as Stevie, twelve years 
old. He had come to the hotel with Maggie today to get acquainted with the 
other whores and help with the remodeling. Maggie had her own ideas about 
how a whorehouse should look and she was making what changes she could, but 
there wasn't enough money in the kitty yet to send for an interior 
decorating crew so she needed all the help she could get. 

Grinning down at the boy over Rose's shoulder, Oscar said, "Hey, Big Ted! 
Whatcha doin' down there, boy?" 

Teddy took one hand from Aunt Maggie's foaming cunt, waved to his father and 
continued his hungry lapping. 

Oscar laughed proudly. "Look at him gettin' that stuff, willya?" 

"Mm-hm," Rose said with a smile. "He knows how to use his tongue, all right. 
There's only one thing wrong with-Eek! Hey, one at a time, boys." 

Oscar had tried to stick his finger in Rose's asshole, but Stevie's finger 
was already in there. 

Oscar grinned at Stevie and said, "If she had a few more holes in her, we 
wouldn't be gettin' in each other's way all the time, would we, kid? Stevie 
giggled. 

"I say, there's only one trouble with him," Rose said. 

"With who?" said Oscar. "Your son." 

"Teddy? What's wrong with him?" 

"If you guys'll get your hands out of my crotch, I'll show you," Rose said. 

Stevie pulled his finger out of his mama's squishy asshole and Oscar took 
his hand out of her smelly cunt and, getting down on her hands and knees, 
she started sucking Teddy's little prick, which was sticking out like a 
spike. Oscar and Stevie went around to the other side of the chair where 
they could get a better view. 

That's when Maggie started to get her goodies. 

"Ah-! Ah-! I-! I'm gonna-! I'm gonna c-c-c-cum!" she gasped, jerking Rose's 
skirt up to her hips and clutching a cheek of her bare ass. With her other 
arm, Maggie reached out and grabbed Stevie, hugging his head to her naked 
tit. 

It took less than a dozen sucks to bring Teddy off. Maggie's cunt had just 
started to squish and sputter in his mouth when Rose drew her lips off his 
prick, opened her mouth, and finished him off with two quick strokes of her 
thumb and forefinger. 

Squirt! Squirt! went his sweet young cum, straight into her mouth. Squirt! 
Squirt! Squirt! 

"Uhn!" Maggie grunted, digging her fingers into her sister's butt and 
pressing Stevie's face into the soft hot flesh of her huge heaving tit. "Uhn 
uhn uhn!" 

And Maggie was still cumming after Teddy had finished. Rose pulled her mouth 
away like that so Oscar could see how quick he got off. Finally, with a sigh 
of satisfied exhaustion-"Aaaahhhh!"-Aunt Maggie went limp and let go of 
Rose's ass. 

Teddy slumped back under the desk to catch his breath and Rose got up, 
wiping her mouth on Maggie's panties. Then she grinned at Oscar and said, 
"See what I mean?" 

"What?" Oscar said. 

Stevie pushed Maggie's tit away from his face and said," She means Teddy's 
got a hair trigger." 

"Fuck you," Teddy panted from under the desk. 

"You tell 'em, kid," Oscar said, and then he got his tool box and went 
upstairs. He worked for a trucking company but his hobby was electronics, 
and when Maggie had asked him if he could install a TV intercom system in 
the hotel with hidden cameras in the walls and ceilings like she had in her 
other whorehouse up north, he had replied by asking Maggie if a bear could 
shit in the woods. 

The difference, however, between a bear and Oscar Rollins, was that while 
the bear had been shitting in the woods all its life, Oscar had only read a 
few magazine articles about installing closed-circuit TV systems. He had 
always wanted to try it, though, and since Rose and Maggie had rescued him 
from the Baptist church, he had become a very confident man. If he set his 
mind to it, he thought, he could do anything anybody else could do. So he 
had started buying and stealing parts and, armed with a ragged copy of 
Popular Electronics, plunged right in. By now he had installed most of the 
monitors and hidden cameras and was ready to hook up the system for a test 
run. 

Teddy crawled out from under the desk and staggered off to wash the drying 
cunt cream off his face. 

Rose sat on the desk and lit a cigarette. She said, "Stevie, you run along 
now and help Oscar." 

"Okay," Stevie said, unzipping his fly and pulling his dick out. "But can I 
fuck ya first?" 

"Not now," Rose said. "Aunt Maggie and I have to talk for a while." 

"Yeah, but-" 

"Stevie, put your little prick back in your pants and run along now." 

"Can we do it down here in the lobby later on?" 

"No." 

"Aw, shit, Mama! How come Teddy gets to-?" 

"Stevie," Rose threatened. 

"Okay then," he said, skipping across the lobby to the stairs, "I'll get 
some offa Goldie." 

"Goldie's busy," Maggie called to him. "You stay away from those girls while 
they're workin', Stevie." 

"Okay," Stevie called back from the top of the stairs, and then he headed 
for Goldie's room. 

* * * 

 Goldie's one of the three younger whores who had stayed on when Sally sold 
out. She's twenty-six. The other two are Mary and Beverly, nineteen and 
twenty-five. There's another one, a big-titted old gal named Betsy Jones, 
who's closer to Rose and Maggie's age-says she's thirty-nine but nobody 
believes it. She has a thirteen-year-old son, Stanley, and was the only one 
to get involved in the new "department" Aunt Maggie was trying to set up; 
the other girls sort of resented all this little boy crap. 

I may as well tell you now that I got involved in it myself. I'm 
thirty-five, the youngest of all the women who eventually got into 'this, 
and I have two kids, Rick and Mick, by two different guys. Rich is eleven 
and Mick is twelve and they were all for this ministud business right from 
the start. Even before we moved into Rose's house last summer, balling was 
their favorite sport. (Like mother, like son, I guess.) 

I didn't mind them working for Aunt Maggie, but I wanted to be around where 
I could sort of keep an eye on them, so I decided to do a little work at the 
Sago on my own-on my back, that is. I didn't do it for the money-in fact, I 
donated every penny I made to the kitty. I figured it was the least I could 
do to pay Rose and Aunt Maggie back for all the material they were giving 
me. This is the second book I've written about them and I could probably 
write a dozen more if I wanted to. But this story's not about me, I just 
wanted to let you know how I happened to be in a position to know all this 
shit. 

"Stevie's right, you know," Rose said. "You shouldn't be doing that stuff in 
the lobby. What if a cop had come in?" 

"Cops I can handle," Maggie said, stuffing her tit back into her dress and 
mopping her shaggy crotch with a wad of Kleenex. "But I wish that goddamned 
old wino would stop hangin' around here." 

"Who is that, anyway?" Rose asked. "I saw him outside." 

"Hellow," Maggie said. 

"Hello, yourself," said Rose. 

"Hello, yourself," said Rose. 

"No, dummy, that's his name-George Hellow. Sally used to give him free cunt 
for some reason, and he expects me to carry on the tradition. Gimme a 
cigarette, willya, Sis?" 

Rose lit her a cigarette and Maggie said, "And anyway, it wasn't my idea, I 
was just sittin' here mindin' my own business. Shit, I can't keep that kid 
outta my crotch." 

"As if you've tried," Rose snickered. 

Maggie laughed. "So how'd ya make out with your friend-^what's her name?" 

"Adeline," Rose said. "I'm sure I've got her hooked. It's only a matter of 
time." 

"Not too much time, I hope. We need about three more kids to get this thing 
rolling. What makes ya think she's hooked?" 

"Well, I told you I had a hunch she was the type, and when I saw the way she 
watched those boys in the pool, I knew I was right. You should have seen the 
look on her face when I told her about this place. And then when I told her 
I'd like to come here sometime myself, I swear to God I thought she was 
going to have a nervous breakdown or something. She was so goddamned hot, 
Maggie, I could actually smell her cunt, and that's no shit." 

They laughed about that and then Rose added, "But we'd better not rush her. 
She's like I was before you straightened me out, or worse, and I'm afraid 
she's going to need a lot of softening up. But what's the hurry, anyway? 
Shit, we've both been spreading the word around for two weeks now, and you 
still haven't had a single customer." 

"That takes time, too," Maggie said. "But once it starts, it can come down 
on you all in a rush and if you don't have enough cock meat to supply the 
demand, you're fucked. Once you have to turn a lady away, you might as well 
write her off for good. And you don't just lose her, you lose all the other 
business she might bring in. You know how I landed my best customer? Her 
maid told her about us. The maid couldn't hardly scrape up the price and you 
wouldn't have thought you'd be losing anything if you told her to fuck 
herself, but if we had we'd never have made the connection with her boss 
lady. Oh, Sis, was that bitch loaded! I mean, rolling in it. It was thanks 
to her I was able to move into the big place in Manhattan. That was Senator 
S-'s wife, you saw her in that movie I made." 

"Yeah, I remember," Rose said. (I don't like to protect these big shot 
assholes like that, but if I told you that senator's name, my publisher and 
I would get our butts sued off and we've both had enough of that kind of 
shit already.) 

"So you have to be careful about turning people away," Maggie went on, "and 
your only insurance against that is boys. Lots of 'em. For a community this 
size, I figure we need at least a dozen, but half o' that oughta get us 
started." 

"Well, we've got four already," Rose said. 

"Three and a half, more likely," said Maggie. "I'm still not sure of Gina's 
younger kid." 

I was listening to this from my room at the top of the stairs and that sort 
of pissed me off. True, being only eleven, Rickie doesn't have much staying 
power, but then neither does Teddy. 

Besides, I didn't notice them refusing to admit him to the stable. I didn't 
say anything, though. I figure you have to let kids prove themselves, their 
mothers can't do it for them. Anyway, the line-up so far was as follows: 
Stevie, Teddy, Mick and Rick, all of them in the "family." 

"So we need your friend's kid," Maggie added. "What d'ya think of him?" 

Rose answered by rolling her eyes and licking her lips. 

Maggie grinned. "Nice, huh?" 

"Adorable," Rose said. "I showed him my big hairy cunt." 

"Yeah? How'd he take it?" she asked. 

"Stevie says it really blew his mind. He says Jack didn't even know cunts 
had hair around them." 

"Hot damn," Maggie said, rubbing her crotch with both hands. "A virgin, 
huh?" 

"Uh huh, and Stevie thinks he's ripe, too. Apparently he was extremely 
interested when Stevie dropped a few hints that I was letting him fuck me. 
And then when he showed him a picture from one of those magazines you gave 
him-it was one of those mother and son things-Jack offered to buy it from 
him for a dollar. We could probably take him in right now if it weren't for 
Adeline." 

"Well, it's both of 'em or neither of 'em," Maggie said. "That's my rule 
from now on." 

The reason for this was that Maggie almost got herself in big trouble for 
using a boy without his mother's knowledge and consent. That's how Maggie 
happened to come to Florida in the first place. The mother found out what 
was going on and tipped off the heat. Maggie got word of it and split just 
hours before the bust. 

Rose said, "Well, I'll be seeing Adeline again soon, and I'll try to-" 

Just then Stevie came skipping down the stairs. He came up behind the desk 
where Rose was sitting, pulled her legs apart and stuck his hand in her 
cunt. "Can we ball now, Mama?" 

"I thought you were going up there to cheat on me," Rose said, squeezing his 
hand with her cunt. 

"Aw, they all had guys with 'em except for Mary and she wouldn't gimme none. 
She thinks she's hot shit, that Mary. You oughta fire her, Aunt Maggie." 

"I oughta fire you, is what I oughta do," Maggie said. "I told ya not to 
fuck with those girls, didn't I?" 

Stevie stuck his tongue out at her. 

Rose laughed and said, "Did you try Gina? She's here tonight, you know." 

"Gina's here?!" Stevie said, his cherubic little face lighting up. He yanked 
his hand out of his mother's snatch and started to run back up the stairs to 
my room, but Rose grabbed him (damn her). 

"Come back here, you little two-timer," she laughed, getting down off the 
desk and dragging the boy into the office. 

There was a big soft couch in there and in a few minutes Rose and Stevie 
were putting it to good use. Maggie was at the desk greeting a customer-an 
elderly businessman type who wanted an hour with Mary-when suddenly there 
was a deafening explosion behind her- BOOM!!!!! -the office door flew open- 
Ba-LAM!! -and a cloud of blue smoke came pouring out, and from somewhere 
upstairs, Oscar yelled: "SHIT!" 

Up on the landing Mary's door sprang open and a naked man with a dripping 
cock came hopping out on one foot, trying to get into his trousers, but his 
feet got tangled up and with a desperate cry- "A-a-a-a-a-h-h-h-h-h!!!!!" 
-came tumbling down the stairs, head over heels: Thunkitty, thunkitty, 
thunkitty, thunkitty, THUD! 

At first Maggie thought these Florida cops must be something else, bombing 
her like that, and she was down on her hands and knees under the desk like 
you're supposed to do in an air raid, but then the smoke cleared a little 
and, peering into the hazy interior of the office, she saw the remains of 
the TV monitor screen that Oscar had installed in there and realized what 
had happened. 

It was just a ragged hole in the console with smoke drifting out the top and 
burnt wires hanging out the bottom. It looked like an empty eye socket. 

On the sofa, almost directly in front of the blown-out monitor, Stevie was 
lying between his mother's legs, his little bare butt still twitching 
spasmodically. The blast must have just missed them. 

"Did you cum?" Stevie panted. 

"Didn't you hear it?!" Rose gasped. 

"Comedians," Maggie muttered, glancing at the unconscious man lying in a 
heap at the foot of the stairs and thinking, Well, at least Mary's free now. 
But when she had struggled to her feet she saw that the man who had wanted 
Mary was long gone. 

Then Oscar appeared on the landing above the lobby. The right sleeve of his 
shirt was burnt and the right side of his face was black. He had a 
screwdriver in his hand. He said, "Something must have shorted out." 

"I think I need a drink," Maggie said, and she went staggering off into the 
smoke. 

CHAPTER THREE 

But if Oscar's technical skills in the field of electronics left something 
to be desired, it turned out that his mistress's procuring talents surpassed 
everybody's expectations, especially her own. It was only two days later, 
about nine o'clock in the evening, that Rose got an obviously desperate 
phone call from Adeline Charles. 

"Why, hello, Adeline!" Rose said. "How are you?" 

"Oh, I-I'm fine," Adeline said in a shaky voice. She sounded short of 
breath, like she'd just run around the block or something. "I was just 
wondering ..." 

Rose peered into the receiver. Then she put it back to her ear and said, 
"Adeline? Are you still there?" 

"Yes, I ... I'm still here. I was just wondering if you . . . Well, I 
suppose you're, ah, busy tonight, aren't you?" 

"No, I'm not busy. Why?" 

"Well, I thought perhaps . . . But it's too late, I suppose." 

"Too late for what?" No answer. 

"It's only nine," Rose added. "What did you have in mind?" 

"Oh . . . nothing," Adeline panted. 

"Adeline, are you sure you're all right? You don't sound well." 

"I'm fine, I tell you!" she snapped. There was another pause and then she 
said, in a milder but still tense voice, "I don't know, I just thought 
perhaps if you weren't doing anything tonight we could ... I mean . . . 
Well, you see, Rose, John was recently promoted to warrant officer." 

"In the Boy Scouts?" Rose asked. 

"No, no!" Adeline snarled impatiently. "Not that John. I mean my husband, 
John Senior." 

"Ah." 

Adeline cleared her throat. "And so . . . well, I'm receiving more money 
now, you see. Now that he's a warrant officer, I mean. Actually, it's more 
than I need to make ends meet. ..." 

"And?" 

"Well, I thought perhaps . . . since I have this extra money, we might. . . 
ah . . ." 

It might have gone on like that all night, with Adeline never quite building 
up enough courage to say it, if Rose hadn't suddenly realized what was 
happening. 

Holy shit! she thought, and she said: "Adeline, do you want to go to the 
Sago Hotel? Is that what you're trying to say?" 

"Rose! I don't want to go there, you said you wanted to. You said you 
couldn't afford it and I just thought since I have this extra money and . . 
. Well, I just don't think you should go to a place like-that alone, Rose. I 
mean, what if something should happen? I mean . . . Well, I've been giving 
it some thought and I agree with you that if they really have ... if it's 
really true, what you said, well, something should be . . . done about it." 

Rose smiled. "I'll pick you up in half an hour," she said. 

* * * 

 What brought Adeline around so soon? Two days of lust-crazed torment. 
Here's how it culminated. 

All that day Adeline had been watching little Jack. She watched him and a 
friend out in the street playing demolition derby with a couple of tricycles 
he had "borrowed" from some younger kids down the block. She watched him 
throwing toads in the pool and she watched him pulling up the newly sprouted 
nasturtiums she had planted around the patio. She watched everything he did, 
running from window to window, half the time with her hand between her legs. 
When the crotch of her panties got soaked, she took them off, and when the 
sweat began to pour down her rather buxom hips-in spite of the air 
conditioning-she tucked her skirts up around her waist and ran around like 
that, half naked with the fragrant cunt juice streaming down her legs like 
hot lava. 

Her inflamed imagination burned away Jack's jeans and she saw his cock, hard 
and stiff and shiny like it had been the other night when he was beating 
off, and she saw the cheeks of his cute little behind, bare and smooth, 
rising and falling when he walked, his hairless little balls jiggling 
underneath his prick, and she imagined that she was out there with him, 
running naked with him through the yard, rolling in the grass with him, 
buffeting his face with her tits, letting him suck them, and then lying 
still under a tree, examining his hard-on, skinning it down, licking the 
little red head, playing with his balls, wiggling her tongue into his 
asscrack while he stuck his hand into her cunt like that little boy in the 
picture, and then she would put her lips around his prick and suck it and-! 
It got so bad she could almost taste it. 

Once, out in the back yard, Jack had glanced around to see if anybody was 
looking, then pulled his prick out and took a piss. That was almost more 
than Adeline could stand. Frantically, she grabbed the nearest object at 
hand-which happened to be a large wax banana-and fucked herself with it so 
furiously that her cunt felt raw inside when she finished. 

But even that didn't calm her down. She almost went crazy every time Jack 
went out of the yard where' she couldn't see him. One time while she was 
bent over at the kitchen window, trying to see where he had gone, he had 
come running in the front door to get a drink of water and Adeline just 
barely got her skirts down before he burst into the kitchen. I wonder what 
would have happened if she hadn't heard him coming and he'd seen her bending 
over like that with her bare ass staring him in the face. Maybe she wouldn't 
have had to go to the Sago after all, who knows? 

They ate their supper in stiff, silent formality as usual. Adeline longed to 
break through the barrier and say something . .. suggestive to her son. But 
she didn't even know how to be friendly with him, let alone intimate. Her 
habitual coldness was like a hard shell and she was trapped inside it. I 
think Adeline's stiffness was a sort of unconscious self-punishment, the 
result of a long-standing guilt complex, but I don't know the psychology 
behind the root of this guilt-her sexual desire for little boys in general, 
Jack in particular. Frankly, I don't much give a shit about it, either. I've 
got more than enough to fill this book up without going into all that shrink 
stuff. 

While she was taking her bath that evening, Adeline did a bold but abortive 
thing. Lying there on her back in the tub, with her jugs floating in the 
water-she had a pretty good-sized pair, too, not very firm any more but not 
all that saggy, either-the brown nipples sticking up like periscopes and the 
curls of her light brown bush waving to and fro just under the surface, she 
called to Jack. 

If Jack had come on into the bathroom it might have worked. Adeline was 
going to ask him if he'd wash her back for her. Then, if that part of it had 
gone okay, she was going to ask him if he'd like to take off his clothes and 
. . . get in with her. But Jack didn't come in, he just stood outside the 
door and said, "Yes, ma'am?" And Adeline lost her nerve. "N-never mind," she 
said. She couldn't even force herself to say, "Never mind, honey." Words 
like "honey" didn't come easy for Adeline. 

After her bath she made one last desperate attempt to get something started. 
She put on her sheerest nightgown, a lacy off-the-shoulder thing, brushed 
her beauty-parlor-blonde hair, powdered her tits, touched up her nipples 
with just a dab of rouge, perfumed her cunt, checked herself out thoroughly 
in her full-length mirror, took a deep breath and headed for Jack's room. 

She decided it was no good trying to be intimate right at first, even if she 
could make herself do it. I would make Jack too suspicious, put him on his 
guard. No, better to come on in her usual manner and then try to work into 
it gradually. Jack would be in bed but not asleep yet. She would go into his 
room and sit down on the bed beside him. She would act as though she were 
fully clothed and would pay no attention when he stared at her naked body 
through the lacy nightgown. 

Young man, she would begin, do you think your father would be proud of you 
if he knew how bad you've been today? Jack would deny that he'd been bad and 
she would say, Now, don't try to deny it, Jack. Yes, she would call him Jack 
instead of John. That would be a good touch. First, you stole those two 
tricycles and wrecked them. Then you threw toads into the pool and then you 
pulled up my nasturtiums. Now-and this would be the hard part-take off your 
pajamas, I'm going to give you a spanking. 

That was not one of Adeline's usual methods of punishment. Ordinarily she 
just made him stay in his room or wouldn't give him his allowance or 
something like that, things which didn't involve any actual physical 
contact. As a matter of fact, she had scarcely touched the boy since his 
infancy, even to do such innocent things as kiss him goodbye when he went 
off to school or pat him on the head when he was a good boy-which, 
admittedly, was seldom. So there was no telling how he would take it when 
she announced she was going to spank him, but Adeline was determined to go 
through with it. 

Then would come the delicate part, when she had him bare-assed across her 
knee. She didn't want to hurt him but she'd have to spank hard enough to 
make him whimper a little and ... Thinking of this part of it made her knees 
tremble violently-the thought of actually touching that sweet naked ass, his 
little prick pressed against her leg, his balls visible maybe between his 
suntanned thighs. Maybe he would even have an erection!-from looking at her 
nudity. And while she was spanking him she'd let her nightgown slip further 
down her arm until . . . until it slipped below one of her nipples maybe, 
and-! And when he whimpered she'd say, Oh, honey, did I hurt you? I didn't 
want to punish you this way but-Did I really hurt you? Oh, you poor thing! 
Here, let Mother kiss it. Mmmm! . . . 

Beyond that point, Adeline's imagination blanked out. The thought of 
actually touching her lips to her son's naked ass was almost more than she 
could stand. It seemed like a mile from her room to Jack's, and when she got 
there . .. she froze. 

For five full minutes she stood there with her hand poised for a knock on 
the closed door. If she'd had a book in her other hand she'd have looked 
like the Statue of Liberty. Finally, she broke down and went running down 
the hallway like she was being chased by a demon-which she was, but she 
couldn't get away from it that way because the demon was inside her. She was 
wringing wet with sweat, the rouge was dripping from her nipples, her 
carefully brushed hair hung in strings and the perfume she'd put on was 
completely nullified by the miasmic vapors which rose from her superheated 
cunt and seemed to fill the whole house like a cloud of smoke from a 
slow-burning fish house. 

She ran straight to the telephone, which is where this chapter began. 

Being in a daze, it didn't even occur to Adeline that she couldn't just go 
running off like that without making arrangements with her babysitter, until 
Rose said she'd be there in half an hour. 

"Oh! But-! Wait, Rose!" she said, almost gasping for breath. "I-I can't go!" 

"Now, just calm down, honey," Rose said. "I'm your friend, don't forget 
that. And I understand." 

"You-! You understand?" 

"Yes, and you've got nothing to be ashamed of. Now, what do you mean, you 
can't go?" 

"What? Oh! I can't go because I-I can't leave John here by himself." 

"That's no problem," Rose said. "Patty's not doing anything tonight. I'll 
bring her over and she can stay there with him until we get back." 

"Oh . .. Well ... all right." 

"Everything's going to be fine now, Adeline. Just keep calm and leave it to 
me, okay?" 

"Okay," Adeline said, and she added in a voice that Rose could hardly hear: 
"Thank you, Rose." That was the closest Adeline had ever come to admitting 
her "perversion" to anybody. 

"You be ready in half an hour, now." 

"Yes," Adeline said. "Half an hour. I'll be ready." 

Rose hung up and went dashing into the darkened parlor where her daughter 
and Oscar's eighteen-year-old son Roy were lying naked on the floor watching 
TV. Roy was casually playing with Patty's ripe young tits and she was 
slow-stroking his erect cock which was standing straight up, casting a 
flickering shadow up along his flat belly and muscular chest. They were 
watching the Democratic convention in Miami. 

Rose flipped on the light and said, "Get your clothes on, you two! We've got 
work to do!" 

"Work?" Roy said, recoiling from the word. 

"Come on, we have to go over to Adeline's house." 

"Aw, shit, Mama," Patty protested. "We were just gettin' ready to ball." 

"You can ball over there. Now let's . . ." Rose had a black low-cut dress 
with a skimpy little bra that pushed her tits up and together, and Patty was 
wearing tight jeans and a white T-shirt with, of course, no bra at all. Roy, 
eager to get on with it, wasn't wearing anything, but he had a pair of 
cut-offs slung over his shoulder. Rose made him put them on and hustled them 
out the door. 

"You take your car, Roy," she said. "And remember-stay out of sight until 
Adeline and I are gone. Put on a good show for the kid, but don't drag it 
out too long. I should have his mama out of the way in less than an hour, 
but bring him in the back way just in case. Aunt Maggie knows we're coming 
so everything'll be set up when you get there. Okay, let's go!" 

CHAPTER FOUR 

Jack wondered what the hell was coming off. Adeline hoped she could slip off 
without waking him up so she wouldn't have to think up an explanation about 
where she was going. But Jack wasn't asleep and he heard Rose's car as she 
and Adeline drove away. 

At this time the boy was sitting up in bed with the sheet draped over his 
head like a tent. He had his "mother-and-son" picture under there and he was 
just getting ready to jack off. He threw the sheet off and was about to get 
up to investigate when he saw a pair of tits in his doorway. They were 
inside a thin white T-shirt and the nipples were sticking out. He put the 
sheet over his head again. 

The tits were still there, he could see them through the sheet. They 
laughed, jiggling up and down, and said, "Hey, whatcha doin' under there?" 

Putting his underpants back on is what he was doing. He said, "Who're you?" 

"I'm Patty," said the tits. "Stevie's sister. Don't you remember me?" 

"What're you doin' here?" 

"Stayin' with ya till your mama gets back. You look like a ghost under that 
sheet." 

With his shorts on and the dirty picture tucked safely under his pillow, 
Jack emerged from under the sheet. "Where'd my mother go?" he asked 
suspiciously. 

Patty shrugged and her tits bobbed again. "I don't know, I think they went 
to a movie or somethin'," she said. "Her and my mother." 

Jack glanced up from the tits, briefly, just to make sure it was really 
Stevie's sister, and said, "Oh." 

As soon as Adeline and Rose had driven away, Roy had pulled up in front of 
the house and gotten out, but Jack didn't hear any of that. He didn't know 
anybody else was in the house until, as he was sitting there staring at 
Patty's tits, the tits were suddenly covered by two hands and a pair of eyes 
appeared above Patty's head. 

"Guess who," Roy said, giving the tits a little squeeze. 

"Uh . . . Spiro Agnew?" Patty said. 

"Wrong." He took the protruding nipples between his thumbs and forefingers 
and rolled them around. 

"Uh . . . Thomas Eagleton?" 

"No." 

"I give up them." 

She turned around and gave him a kiss and Jack saw him cup the cheeks of her 
ass in his hands the way he had cupped her tits. Her jeans were very tight. 
Jack's prick got very hard. Roy said, "You give up too easy." 

Patty gave a soft, seductive laugh-"Hm, hm, hm"-rubbing her nose against 
Roy's and rolling her pussy against the front of his cut-offs. 

"Who's he?" Jack asked. Something fishy was going on here. 

"This is my boyfriend Roy," Patty said. "Roy, this is Jack." 

"Hi, Jack," Roy said with a grin and a wink. 

Jack didn't say anything. 

Then Patty pulled her T-shirt out of the hipband of her jeans as though she 
were about to take it off and shoved Roy back out into the hallway. "Well, 
you go to sleep now, Jack," she said. "Well be out in the living room." 

"So long, Jack," said Roy with another wink, slipping his hand into the seat 
of Patty's jeans as they walked away. 

Before she left Adeline had briefed Patty on how to deal with her son: 
"Whatever you want him to do," she had said, "tell him to do the opposite." 

Now Patty explained to Roy that that was why she had told the boy to go to 
sleep. "I get it," Roy said. 

And it worked, too. No sooner had the young lovers entered the living room 
and turned the lights down low than little Jack came marching in with a 
defiant look on his face. 

"I don't wanta go to sleep," he said. "Can I watch TV?" 

"No," Patty said. "You can't watch TV." 

Jack went over and turned on the TV. "It's my TV," he said. "And I'll watch 
it if I want to." 

Patty shrugged. "Okay, but there's nothin' on but the Convention." 

"I don't care," Jack said. 

"Well, just make sure you watch the TV and not us," Patty warned. 

Jack sat down in front of the TV and watched Patty and Roy. 

To his surprise, they didn't say anything to him. They ignored him, acted 
like they'd forgotten he was there. Roy stepped out of his cut-offs and lay 
down on the floor with his hands folded behind his head and his big cock 
pointing straight up at the ceiling. It had black hair all around it. 

Then Patty pulled her T-shirt off. 

Holy cow! Jack thought. 

Her plump round tits jiggled and bounced in the flickering light of the TV 
screen. She tossed her long blonde hair away from her shoulders, unzipped 
the front of her jeans and stepped out of them. She didn't have any panties 
on. She had fluffy blonde hair on her pussy. 

Jack blinked his eyes and wondered if this was really happening. All of a 
sudden he was seeing all these pussies-first Mrs. Sanders' and now her 
daughter's. Maybe all that bullshit Stevie was trying to feed him . . . 
maybe it wasn't bullshit after all. 

"Sit on that, baby," Roy said, holding his cock in his hand. 

"Hm, hm, hm," Patty laughed. She stood over him with her legs spread, hands 
on her hips, his cock pointing straight up at her crotch, and gave her tits 
a little side-to-side shake. 

Patty is really built for a sixteen-year-old. I'm no lez but I'll tell you 
something: sometimes when I ended up in bed with her and Roy-which happened 
occasionally while I was living there at Rose's house-I used to take her on 
before Roy, which is not my style ordinarily. The point is, if she could get 
me that hot, think of what she'd do to a homy little fist-fucker like Jack. 

He swallowed and tried to make himself as small and inconspicuous as 
possible, puzzled but thankful that they were ignoring him. They're gonna 
fuck now! he thought excitedly. That's what they're gonna do! With me 
sittin' right here watchin' 'em! 

And that's exactly what they did. 

Patty squatted down over Roy's upright prick and then dropped to her knees. 
Roy was lying diagonally on the carpet with his head toward the TV so that 
Patty was facing Jack almost directly, and since this show was supposed to 
be for his benefit she leaned back and rolled her pelvis upwards so that the 
kid could watch Roy's cock as it went in. 

She held it at the root with her thumb and two fingers and guided the slick, 
gleaming head into her already slippery hole. Roy reached up and grabbed her 
tits and she raised her arms high and let her head hang back. "Mmmmmmm!" she 
purred as her cunt slid down Roy's rod. Down, down went the plump, fuzzy 
lips until the blonde curls and the black ones were all mixed up together. 

My gosh!! Jack thought. 

"A-a-a-a-a-ah!" Roy sighed. Then he took his hands off Patty's tits, folded 
them behind his head again (his hands, not Patty's tits) and his ass started 
bouncing up and down. 

With her arms up over her head like that, her hair whipping around her head 
and her naked boobs plunging up and down, she looked like a bronco rider 
sponsored by Women's Lib at a nude rodeo. 

"Uhn, uhn, uhn, uhn, uhn!" Roy grunted. "Ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah!" grunted 
Patty. And little Jack grunted right along with them-"Uh, uh, uh, uh, uh, 
uh!"-without even knowing he was doing it. 

Meanwhile, downtown at the Sago Hotel, my son Mick was about to do some 
grunting of his own. 

"Oh, Rose!" Adeline whispered as they went up the stairs after a brief talk 
with Aunt Maggie in her office. "I'm so embarrassed! Why didn't you tell me 
your sister was the . . . the . . .?" 

"The madam?" Rose said. 

"Yes." 

Rose laughed. "If I had, would you have come here tonight?" 

"I certainly wouldn't have! And I shouldn't have, either. Oh, this is awful! 
I just can't imagine what got into me." 

"Nothing got into you," Rose said. "That's the trouble." 

"Rose, please!" Adeline hissed. "I'm embarrassed enough as it is." 

"Oh, come off it, Adeline. What's to get embarrassed about? Women weren't 
made to live without sex, you know. It's this way, up at the end of the 
hall. Room 105." 

As they approached the door Adeline panicked. She lashed out at her friend: 
"You tricked me into this, Rose. My God, what kind of woman are you?" 

That pissed Rose off. She dropped her hand from Adeline's arm and came to a 
halt. They were about five paces from the door. "Apparently the same kind of 
woman you are," she said. "Look, why don't we call the whole thing off? I'll 
take you back home and nobody but Maggie and me will ever know you even 
considered coming here. Well, what do you say?" 

This had the desired effect on poor Adeline. Now she didn't know what to do. 
She thought about going back to that house, being so close to Jack and not 
being able to . . . Trying to avoid the decision, she said, "Wh-why didn't 
your sister charge me anything?" 

"Because you're my friend and she was trying to do you a favor." 

"Oh. Well . . . that was nice of her." 

"You haven't answered my question. Shall I take you home or not?" 

Adeline looked back down the hall toward the stairs. Then she looked at the 
door of Room 105. Finally she took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and said, 
"No, I ... I don't want to go home." 

Rose smiled. "That's what I thought. So let's don't have any more of that 
self-righteous shit, huh?" 

Adeline looked at her and then lowered her eyes. "I'm sorry, Rose," she said 
in a very small voice. "I ... I really do . . . need this, and . . . and I 
want you to know that I appreciate what you and Maggie are-" 

"Never mind that," Rose said, giving Adeline's hand a warm squeeze and 
leading her to the door. 

"You might be in a position to return the favor someday." Someday soon, I 
hope, she thought. "And speaking of positions, I hear Mickie knows some good 
ones. Go on in there and have fun now. 

I'll see you later." 

She opened the door, shoved Adeline inside, shut it and went downstairs to 
the lobby. As she was about to go into the office Betsy came running down 
the stairs, her slim, almost birdlike legs flashing under her hoisted skirt 
and her massive bombshell boobs leaping up and down like a couple of 
oversized footballs in a paint shaker. 

"Hey, Rose!" she whispered. "Was that his mama?" 

Rose said, "Yeah. I sure wish Oscar had the TV hooked up. That's one show 
I'd really like to see!" 

I'd have liked to see it, too, but I wasn't sure it was worth the risk of 
having the hotel burn down, which at the time is what I thought Oscar was 
going to do if he kept fucking around with that TV business. Anyway, I had 
to settle for Mick's account of it, and of course Adeline added to it later 
on after she and I had become friends. 

At first she just stood there by the door, smiling nervously at the little 
boy in the bed, not knowing exactly how to begin. 

"Hi," Mick said, giving her the once-over. Adeline had put on what she 
considered a sexy outfit: a yellow suit with a skirt shorter than she 
usually wore-three inches above the knee-and a bolero-type jacket, open in 
front to show her long-sleeved black lace blouse. It wasn't all that sexy, 
though, because she had a black bra and slip on under it, and when she saw 
Rose's low-cut dress, and then Maggie's-which seemed about to spill her 
boobs in her lap every time she took a breath-Adeline felt positively 
overdressed. But now, with my boy checking her out like that with his bold 
black eyes, she felt naked. 

"Hi," she said, clearing her throat and glancing around the dimly lit room. 
"You must be Mickie." 

"One point for you," Mick said. (He's sort of a wise-ass sometimes.) 

Adeline shifted her feet again. The boy had a sheet pulled up to his hips, 
just below his bellybutton, but she could see the outline of his prick under 
the sheet. She tried not to look at it. Her throat felt dry. She said, "I 
beg your pardon?" 

"Nothin'," Mick said. He saw how nervous she was and decided he'd better 
cool it. He knew we'd give him all kinds of hell if he spooked her. "And you 
must be . . . They told me your name but I forget." 

"Oh-I'm Mrs. Char-uh-I mean, Adeline. You can, uh, call me Adeline." 

Wow, Mick thought. He held out his hand and said, "Glad t' meetcha, 
Adeline." 

Hesitantly, as awkward as a young girl who had just put on her first pair of 
high heels, Adeline approached the bed, reached out and took the boy's hand. 
"H-how do you do?" she stammered. "I-I have a, ah, little boy about your 
age." 

"No shit?" Mick said, and without letting go of Adeline's hand he threw the 
sheet off and sat up on the edge of the bed, facing her. "You don't look 
that old." 

Oh dear! Adeline thought. He's naked! His little prick was about half hard, 
its head lifted just slightly above his balls. Adeline swallowed hard and 
tried to smile. "You're sweet, but-" 

"No, really," Mick said, pouring on the charm. He let go of her hand and 
spread the lapels of her yellow jacket from her bosom. "Nice set o' tits." 
Then he slipped his hands under the hem of her skirt, slid them up the backs 
of her nylon-sheathed thighs and felt the cheeks of her broad ass through 
the silk of her panties-a maneuver which caught Adeline off balance and 
caused her to stumble closer to the little boy to keep from falling. Now her 
knees were right up against the bed, between Mick's legs, just inches from 
his prick. "Nice ass, too. Yeah, you look like a fine piece o' tail to me, 
Adeline." 

Adeline was sweating again. "Why,"-she blushed and giggled nervously-"why, 
th-thank you . . . Mickie. You're a . . ." Her eyes went down to his prick 
again. It was moving, lengthening, straightening out. The tip of its red 
head was showing at the mouth of his foreskin. "... You're a nice looking 
young man yourself." 

He is, too. He's slim and has olive skin and jet-black hair and a sort of 
pointed prick like you see on those Greek vase paintings, except Mick's 
doesn't have any hair around it yet. His father was an Arab or something. 

"You ready to get undressed?" he asked. 

"Uh . . . Yes, I ... I guess so." 

While Adeline awkwardly removed her jacket, Mick hooked his thumbs into the 
elastic waistband of her panties, drew them down to her knees and dropped 
them around her ankles. As she stepped out of them-almost losing her balance 
again-and started unbuttoning the front of her blouse with trembling 
fingers, Mick unzipped her skirt at the hip, undid the clasp and skinned it 
off her hips. Then he helped her finish unbuttoning the blouse and as she 
was taking it off he gathered up the skirt of her slip and wiggled it up 
over her bare ass and the heaving summits of her boobs. In the middle of 
pulling the slip off, the black silk covering her face, Adeline froze. 

My God! she thought. It had just hit her that she had no pants on. He can 
see my-! 

"Hey, you got a nice bush, too," Rick said. 

And standing there with the slip over her head like an ostrich with its head 
buried in the sand, Adeline felt his little fingers rustling through her 
cunt-hair, combing the tangles out of it, fluffing it up, then moving down 
where it was wet with sweat and heat-juice, tickling the curls along the 
thick swollen lips, exploring all the way back to where the crack of her ass 
started- The release of pressure as the bra band let go, hanging limply from 
the shoulder straps, the sudden fall of her heavy breasts from the grip of 
her cups-gave Adeline a sharp, electric feeling all through her body, an 
indescribable sensation of the reality of what she was doing. She was 
committed now, this was it, there was no backing out. She felt dizzy and 
weak. 

The little hands slid underneath the slack bra cups and up over the full 
roundness of her tits, the warm fingers kneading the soft flesh, pushing the 
bra up above her nipples, and then- OH, GOD! -she felt his hot, moist breath 
on her left breast, his tongue on the hard knob of the nipple, his lips, 
sucking . . . sucking . . . and something touched her knee . . . something 
hot and slick . . . the head of his prick ... it was hard . . . twitching . 
. . 

Oh, Jack! Jack-! 

If Mick hadn't suddenly shoved three fingers into Adeline's drooling cunt, 
making her gasp sharply, she probably would have fainted dead away from lack 
of air, because during the whole time she had that slip over her head she'd 
been holding her breath. 

By now Patty had come twice and Roy had shot his wad. They lay there on the 
floor for a while, Patty still on top, panting and giggling and kissing, and 
then Patty looked up and gave little Jack a dreamy smile. 

He was sitting there wide-eyed, open-mouthed, with one hand inside the front 
of his Jockey shorts. 

"Hey, you weren't supposed to watch, you naughty little boy," Patty said. 

"I can"-Jack jerked his hand out of his shorts-"I can watch if I want. If 
you don't let me watch, I'll tell my mother." 

"So watch already," Patty said, rolling off Roy and sitting up with her legs 
spread. Her pussy was all gooey. "Run and get us some toilet paper from the 
bathroom, willya?" 

"I don't have to," Jack said. 

"Fuck ya then," said Patty. "I'll get it myself." 

True to form, Jack jumped up and ran to get the toilet paper. As soon as he 
was out of the room Roy said, "Man, he's ready!" 

"Yeah, but we gotta be cool," Patty said. "Here's the way we'll do it. . ." 

When Jack came back with the paper Roy wiped his cock and Patty mopped her 
cunt. Jack watched intently. Then Roy grinned at Jack and said, "Hey, Patty, 
we oughta take him over to the Sago and get him bred. We could be back 
before his mama gets home." 

"Shit," Patty said. "He's too little." 

"I am not," Jack said. "What's the Sago?" 

"How old are you?" Roy asked. 

"Twelve. What's the-?" 

"Yeah, I guess you're right, Patty. He's too young." 

"I am not!" 

"You are, too," Patty said. 

"What's the Sago?" 

"A whorehouse," Patty said. 

"Oh," said Jack. "Well ... I'm not too young. I can do anything he can do." 

"Oh, yeah?" Patty said, giving the boy a sexy look and glancing down at his 
crotch. 

"Yeah," Jack said, swallowing. 

Then Sally made a little farting noise with her lips. "Bullshit," she said. 
"I bet you never had a piece of ass in your life." 

Roy laughed and that made Jack furious. "I have, too!" he said. "I want to 
go to that place." 

"What place?" 

"That whorehouse." 

"Oh, sure!" Patty said. "You think I'm gonna take you to a whorehouse, you 
little shit?" 

"If you don't take me, I'll tell my mother what you and him did." 

"You wouldn't!" Patty said, pretending to be alarmed. 

"I would, too," Jack said. "You just wait and see." 

Roy nudged Patty with his elbow and said, "Looks like he's got us over the 
barrel, Patty." 

"Listen, Jack," Patty said. "We'll take you some other time, okay?" 

"No! I want to go now." 

"Now?" 

"Yes! Right now. Or else I'll tell my-" 

"Oh, all right then," Patty said, reaching for her jeans. "Run along and get 
dressed, and make it quick." 

For once Jack did as he was told. He'd never got dressed that quick in his 
life. 

CHAPTER FIVE 

Adeline lay stretched out on her back on the bed, naked except for her 
nylons and black garter belt. The thick sweetish smell of her cunt filled 
the room and her swollen tits rose and fell heavily. Directly above her face 
was Mick's stiff little prick, shimmering in the dim light, his balls 
dangling about two inches above her parted lips like ripe fruit. 

He was on his knees, straddling her face, and she was caressing the cheeks 
of his firm little butt, brushing her fingers and mouth, leaving no part of 
it untouched, sucking her tongue and nibbling her nipples and licking her 
big clit and even tonguing her asshole, and Adeline's excitement had grown 
so intense that it had burned away all her former nervousness and 
embarrassment. It broke the dam of her lust, if you want to get poetic about 
it, flooding the valley of her need. (Pretty heavy, huh?) 

Now she brought her hands around Mick's slim hips and took his dick between 
her fingers, slipping the foreskin back and rubbing the slick red head with 
her thumbs. 

"O-o-o-o-o-h-h-h-h!" she sighed, her hot breath bathing his crotch. 

Then she lifted her head a little and rolled his balls around with her 
tongue. Oh, they tasted so sweet! The next thing she knew, they were bumping 
along the bridge of her nose and she was licking the crack of his delicious 
little ass, probing into it, panting and gurgling, milking his prick with 
both hands, and then Mick reached back and spread his buttocks, rolling his 
pelvis forward so she could see the dark little dimple of his asshole. 

Completely overcome, Adeline rammed her tongue straight into the hole. 

"Yi!" Mick squealed happily. "I, yi, yiiiiii!" 

"Ahgle-ahg!" Adeline gurgled, probing deeper with rapid (or rabid) 
in-and-out jabs that made the bed bounce so violently that Mick finally lost 
his balance and tumbled over on his back and before he could catch his 
breath Adeline had straddled him and stuffed a tit in his mouth. 

It was about this time that Roy, Patty and Jack pulled into the alley behind 
the hotel. Maggie had chosen Betsy to take Jack's cherry and the two of them 
were waiting for him in Betsy's room, watching the alley from the window. 

"Here they are," Maggie said. "I'll go and-" 

"Hey, listen, Maggie," Betsy said, grabbing Maggie's arm. "I don't know 
about this. No shit, I don't like it. I mean, hell, he's just a-" 

"He's got a prick, right?" Maggie said. 

"Yeah, but-" 

"And you're a whore, right?" 

"Sure, but-" 

"Then what the fuck are you bitchin' about? Just calm down and do your job, 
willya?" 

"But Gina wanted to do it," Betsy protested. "How come you don't let her?" 
(That's what I wanted to know, but as it turned out Maggie had her reasons.) 

"Because you're the gal for the job, that's why," Maggie said. "Let go o' me 
now, I gotta go meet 'em. And listen, Betsy,"-she grinned and thumped one of 
Betsy's gigantic tits with her fingernail-"don't knock it till you've tried 
it." 

As soon as Maggie left, Betsy ran to her mirror to check herself out. In 
spite of her age, there were quite a few customers who would choose Betsy 
every time over the younger girls, because there's a lot of guys who dig 
that kind of figure. She was one of these tall, top-heavy broads-who, by the 
way, always seem to end up in whorehouses, topless bars or fuck movies-with 
slim arms, slim hips, slim legs and what looks like somebody else's tits. 
Whenever I see somebody like that I can't help but wonder if there's not 
some flat-chested fat chick walking around somewhere wondering whatever 
happened to her boobs. 

Betsy was an extreme case. I'd say her measurements were something like 
42"-25"-32", if you can dig that. Her tits weren't the watermelon type like 
Maggie's, they were the nose-cone type and looked like a couple of fat 
whitewashed missiles on the launch pad. Her areolas, tan at the edges and 
getting darker toward the centers, were a good three inches in diameter and 
the thick brown knobs stuck out about half an inch. They looked like 
pancakes with stubby little cigars sticking out of them. 

With that figure, and her platinum-blonde hair curling about her shoulders 
in stiff ringlets, and her heavily made-up eyes and bright red lipstick that 
made her mouth look like a cunt, and her long dangly earrings, and her black 
half-cup bra that held her tits straight out like a shelf, and her bulging 
hump stuffed into the crotch pounch of her black see-through G-string 
panties with brown cunt hair sticking out all around the edges, and her 
narrow black elastic garter belt decorated with little red roses, and her 
black mesh stockings and high-heeled bedroom slippers, all veiled by her 
deep-plunging, long-sleeved, floor-length red lace dressing gown, she was 
the very picture of your classic whore, straight out of the Roaring 
Twenties. 

Knock, knock. "Betsy?" 

Betsy turned from the dresser, ran to her bed, sat down on it, crossed her 
legs, adjusted her gown, said a quick Hail Mary, took a deep breath, and 
sang, "Come innn." 

Maggie opened the door and led little Jack into the room, which was lit by a 
single red-shaded lamp on the dresser. 

Ho-o-o-o-oly cow! Jack thought when he saw those big bombshell tits looming 
up out of the gaping front of Betsy's gown. No wonder they didn't want me to 
get her! She must be the most expensive one they got! 

Jack really went for big tits and he figured the prices must vary according 
to the size of the tits, like meat in the supermarket. When they came in 
from the alley the lady that owned the whorehouse and Patty had whispered to 
each other for a minute and they came back and said he could have any of the 
girls he wanted except for Betsy. Right away Jack smelled a rat. "Why can't 
I have Betsy?" he had demanded. Because he was too young, they said, and 
they tried to hustle him off to one of the second-rate whores probably, but 
Jack put his foot down. "I am not too young!" he had shouted and they got 
all excited and said, "Sh! Sh!" 

"I want Betsy," Jack went on. "If you don't let me have Betsy I'm gonna tell 
my mother you kidnapped me and she'll call the police and you'll all go to 
jail." They said he wouldn't do that, and he said yes he would, too, and so 
finally they gave in. What else could they do? 

"Betsy, this is Jack," Maggie said. 

Betsy smiled and said, "Hi, Jack." 

"Hi," Jack said. 

"You be gentle with him now, Betsy," Maggie said. "He's sort of nervous 
about this and-" 

"I am not!" Jack said, but his voice broke in the middle of it. The fact was 
he was nervous as hell but he wasn't about to admit it. 

Betsy was nervous, too. Her own son Stanley was almost the same age as this 
boy and it just didn't seem right. Why, he even looked like Stanley! She 
didn't like it but, like Maggie said, a job's a job. She ran her hand up 
along Jack's arm, winked at him, and said, "I'm sure we'll get along just 
fine, Maggie." 

"I'm sure," Maggie chuckled. She went out and took Patty and Roy to another 
room where they found Rose on her hands and knees on the bed. She was naked 
and Roy's little brother Teddy was on his knees behind her, fucking her in 
the ass. 

"He's here, Mama!" Patty said, running up to the bed. "He's in there with 
Betsy right now." 

"Shit!" Rose grunted. "I wish we-um-had that fucking-um-TV! Uhn!" 

Maggie said, "You guys stay outta sight now till I give ya the word. I'm 
goin' to check on Adeline." 

Maggie ran upstairs, tip-toed up to Room 105 and pressed her ear to the door 
. . . 

"Oh, yes!" Adeline gasped. "Now! Fuck me now, Mickie! Stick it in my cunt! 
Hurry! Hurry!" 

Maggie smiled and went back down the hall. 

Yeah, Sis, she thought. I wish we had that fucking TV, too. 

Adeline was sprawled out on her back, her heaving tits in her hands, her 
head thrashing back and forth as though she were in agony, drool and cunt 
cream running from the corners of her open mouth. (Mick had sucked her cunt 
and then kissed her, that's how she got cunt cream in her mouth.) Her ass 
was jacked up on a stack of pillows, her legs were spread wide-her garter 
belt gone now and her nylons torn to shreds, hanging around her calves and 
ankles-and her wet hairy hump stuck up in the air like a war torn hill in 
the middle of a battle zone. 

Mick was on his knees between her thighs with his thumbs hooked into the 
upper corner of her gash, driving her crazy with a high-speed double-thumb 
massage of her erect clitoris. Now he slid his fingers down the insides of 
her flooded cunt lips, pulled them apart and rammed his prick into her 
fuckhole with a powerful jerk of his hips. 

"A-a-a-a-a-h-h-h-h-h!!!" Adeline cried. 

And with his fingers still inside her cunt, he started fucking her with 
lightning-fast saber saw strokes that drove her completely out of her mind. 

You wouldn't believe how fast that kid can hump, no shit. One time he caught 
me when I was sort of dry and when we got through I actually had blisters on 
the inside of my cunt. Put me out of commission for a week. (Well, not quite 
out of commission, but I got tired of being called "The Asshole Queen of the 
South.") 

Meanwhile, Jack and Betsy were getting on with it. 

After Maggie left, Betsy had cleared her throat and said, "I was just about 
to go to bed. Would you like to come to bed with me, Jack?" Jack didn't like 
her baby-talking tone, so he said, "That's what this is all about, isn't 
it?" That made Betsy realize she was using the wrong approach, so she 
grinned and said, "Okay, so what're ya waitin' for, smartass? Take off your 
clothes and lemme see whatcha got." Staring at those huge tits for courage, 
Jack had started to undress, but when he got down to his Jockey shorts his 
bravado faltered a little. He'd never undressed in front of a woman before. 
Betsy had taken off her dressing gown, unhooked her garter belt and peeled 
off her stockings and was lying on the bed waiting for him. "Well?" she 
said. Jack swallowed and, in the most defiant voice he could manage, said, 
"Lemme see your cunt." Betsy's eyes had widened a little but that was all. 
She skinned her panties off, swung her legs around toward Jack and spread 
them. "There it is," she said. Apparently you couldn't shock a whore the way 
you could a school teacher. 

But now they were in bed together and Jack's manner had changed from 
defiance to a sort of timid eagerness. It was like he was the boy in that 
dirty picture Stevie had given him and the picture had come to life. He was 
actually in bed with a lady and they were doing nasty things to each other. 
He could hardly believe it. He kept thinking, Wait'll I tell Stevie about 
this! 

Betsy's attitude had changed, too, now that she had come into physical 
contact with this cute little virgin, kissed his soft young lips and felt 
the rigid eagerness of his prick against her leg. It was like something was 
coming to life inside her, something she hadn't known was there. When she 
leaned over Jack and unhooked her bra, spilling her tits in his face, she 
had the strange feeling that she had done it before, with some other little 
boy, maybe in a dream. 

Jack just about freaked out over those tits. He put his little hands on them 
and pressed them against his cheeks, panting into the deep, warm, shadowy 
valley between them. She raised up a little and he took one of them in both 
hands and it seemed to swell up even bigger. Jesus, it was as big as his 
head! Bigger! "You . . . you sure got big tits," he said. 

"You like big tits?" Betsy asked softly. 

Jack nodded. "Uh-huh." 

"Wanta suck it?" 

Jack looked up at her face, then back at the big nipple. She lowered it to 
his mouth and he took the stiff rubbery knob between his lips. The sucking 
came naturally, like he'd been doing it all his life. It was so much fun 
that after a minute he grabbed the other one and sucked it, too. 

Betsy was really getting into it now. She said, "Now I get to suck you." 

Jack giggled. "I don't have any tits." 

"Not your tits, silly." 

She turned around on the bed and got up on her knees and elbows, taking 
Jack's rock-hard dick between her fingertips and gazing at it in the red 
glow. Jesus, it was . . . nice. She slipped one hand down between his legs 
and cupped his hard little balls in her palm, cradling them gently, 
massaging them, easing a finger into the crack of his ass- "He-e-e-e-e!" 
Jack giggled. "That tickles." 

"Wanta tickle me, honey?" Betsy murmured, sliding his tight little foreskin 
up and down and touching the tip of his cockhead with her tongue. 

Jack looked over at her naked ass looming up to his left and remembered how 
that boy had his hand in that lady's cunt in the picture. He wondered if 
that was what Betsy meant, and as he was wondering she lifted her left leg 
like a dog taking a piss and set her knee down near his right shoulder, 
straddling him, her heavy tits hanging down on his stomach, and he suddenly 
found himself face to face with her shaggy crotch. 

It smelled funny. He reached up cautiously and took a tuft of hair between 
his thumb and forefinger, pulling it out straight and letting it go. He 
liked the way it bounced back. He started to do it again but this time he 
accidentally touched the raw meat inside her slit and several things 
happened so fast it seemed like they happened all at the same time. 

First, the small firm cheeks of Betsy's almost masculine ass clenched 
spasmodically. Then she sucked Jack's prick all the way into her mouth and 
grabbed his hand. Then she started cramming the hand into her cunt. 

Jack went stiff all over. He'd never felt anything like that in his 
life-those hot wet lips sliding up and down his prick, sucking, sucking, 
that tongue curling around it, hot slobber running down around his balls-and 
she was pulling his hand into the hairy hole and it was all full of hot 
gooey stuff and it was clutching at his hand like a clam or something and 
the juice was running down his wrist, dripping in his face, and her head was 
going up and down, up and down, and her big tits were pounding on his 
stomach and now his hand was all the way up her hole and she was going, "Mm! 
Mm! Mm!" and she was all wiggly inside and-! 

SPURT! went his prick. SPURT! SPURT! SPURT! 

"Mm! Mm! Mm!" Suck, suck, suck! Gulp, swallow, gurgle, gasp! SPURT! SPURT! 
-And it was over almost before Jack knew what was happening. 

"Mmmmmmm," Betsy purred. Ssssssssuck! Swallow. "Delicious!" 

She fell over on her side and Jack's prick went limp. 

As soon as he got his breath back he pulled his hand out of Betsy's cunt and 
said, "Hey, that's no fair." 

"What's no fair? Didn't you like that?" 

"Yeah, it was . . . nice, but it wasn't any piece of ass ... Was it?" 

"No," Betsy laughed breathlessly. "It was a blowjob." 

"That's what I thought," Jack said. "They told me I was gonna get a piece of 
ass." 

"So I'll give ya a piece of ass." 

Jack considered that for a minute. Then he said, "Yeah, but it's too late 
now." 

"Why?" 

" 'Cause I shot off already. I don't have a hard-on any more." 

"I can get it hard again, I bet." 

"I bet you can't." 

"I bet I can." 

"Let's see ya do it, then." 

"Okay," Betsy said, taking one of her jugs in her hand and rubbing the big 
nipple against the tip of Jack's little pug nose. "Roll over on your back." 

Suddenly, from upstairs, came a loud gutteral shriek: "EEEEEEE-GAH! GAH! 
GAH! GAH!" 

That was Jack's mama getting her goodies. Man, was she embarrassed when we 
told" her how loud that was. You could hear it all through the hotel and 
probably out in the street, too. 

SQUISH! went Adeline's cunt, and great gobs of boiling cream came gushing 
out around Mick's cock and balls. SQUISH! SQUISH! SQUISH! 

Mick got his gun then, too, but his cum got lost in all that slop. Adeline 
told us later that she actually thought her cunt had exploded and blown 
itself inside-out. It was like the end of the world, she said. 

Downstairs again: Betsy got on top of Jack like Patty had done with Roy 
earlier that evening and stuffed his limp little prick into her juicy cunt. 
Then she laced her fingers behind her head, arched her back, thrusting her 
great wobbly torpedoes out in front of her, smiled down at Jack, and went 
into a little dance, sort of. 

It was a sort of sitting-down strip routine, except she'd already stripped 
of course. She started out by doing little bumps and grinds on Jack's belly, 
her coarse, gooey cunt curls scrubbing the smooth skin around the root of 
his prick, back and forth, from side to side, around and around, like an 
S.O.S. pad. 

Indeed, there was a moment there when Jack did feel a little like signaling 
for help. Having his dick in a whore's mouth was one thing, but having it in 
her cunt was another, especially now that the edge had been taken off his 
horniness. He got that same feeling he had had when he was looking up 
Stevie's mother's skirt the other day, only it was much stronger now-the 
feeling that he was about to be eaten alive. He felt a little like one of 
those pearl divers in the South Sea Island movies who always get their feet 
caught in the shells of man-eating clams. 

This feeling didn't last long, however. In fact, it disappeared as soon as 
Betsy started making her tits swing back and forth. She would swing both of 
them together for a minute so that they looked like a couple of huge bulging 
eyeballs surveying the landscape in a ninety-degree arc, and then with a 
little jerk of her shoulders she would break the rhythm in mid-swing so that 
they would come slamming together like railroad cars-thudditty-thud!-and the 
reverberations would make her big nipples jiggle like the strobe light in 
Patty's room. Then she would lean forward and shake them vigorously in 
Jack's face so that they swung and wobbled and jumped and jiggled in all 
directions at once. That alone would have eventually restored Jack's 
hard-on, but Betsy had an ace in the hole, so to speak. 

She stopped the "dancing," straightened up and sat still on Jack's hips. 
Then she started to move but you couldn't see it. 

"Hey, that-! G-gosh . . ." 

You sure could feel it, though. She was massaging his soft prick with her 
cunt and it felt like a soft, gooey hand, squeezing and pulling. Betsy may 
be an old whore, but her cunt muscles are something else. One time-later on, 
after my kids had started fucking her-Rick told me that once he tried to 
pull his prick out of her when she didn't want him to and there wasn't a 
thing he could do. Clamped down on him like a vise, he said. 

Anyway, to Jack's delight and amazement, it didn't take much of that to pump 
his cock up to full size again. "There," Betsy said in a hoarse, breathy 
voice-because she was really turned on, too. Her cunt was sudsing up 
something fierce. "Now let's fuck." 

She thought she'd be doing most of the fucking, Jack being cherry and all, 
but she underestimated him. With a little grunt he grabbed her nipples-and 
Betsy's nipples alone are handfuls, especially in Jack's hands-grabbed them 
as though they were the handle grips of a motorcycle, revved her up and 
started bouncing his butt up and down like he'd seen Roy doing when he 
fucked Patty. 

"Oh-god-damn!" Betsy gasped. 

"Uh, uh, uh, uh, uh!" Jack grunted, digging his stubby little fingers into 
those huge tits, and the bed springs went squeak, squeak, squeak, squeak, 
squeak-! ah-!" That red hot little prick jab-jab-jabbing into her like that 
was just too much. In less than a minute she felt herself starting to cum, 
and this was really weird for Betsy because it had been a long time since 
she'd got off on just plain fucking. 

It didn't take Jack long, either. Betsy's cunt had just started to spasm 
when he screwed up his face, got a firm grip on her swollen nipples, and let 
her have it. 

SQUIRT! SQUIRT! SQUIRT! 

"Oh! Uhn! Ah!" Betsy's cunt felt like a fist, clenching, clutching, pumping, 
hot cum squirting into it, flooding it-! "Ah! Ah! Ah!-" 

"Uhng!"-SQUIRT!-"Uhng!"-SQUIRT!-"Uhng!"-SQUIRT! . . . 

Later, after Patty and Roy had taken Jack home and Adeline and Rose had 
gone, Betsy went to Maggie and said, "You know, Maggie, I've been thinking 
about what you said about me moving into the hotel with Stanley. I mean, 
well, like you say, it is a problem what to do with him while I'm working, 
and maybe . . . maybe it's time he knew how I make my living anyway, and . . 
. Maggie, what the hell's that all about?" 

"What's what all about?" Maggie said. 

"That shit-eating grin on your face," said Betsy. 

See, that's why Aunt Maggie insisted on having Betsy take Jack's cherry. 
She's a pretty shrewd old girl, that Maggie. 

CHAPTER SIX 

Almost every night during the following week Adeline and Jack went to the 
Sago to get laid, each ignorant of the other's presence of course. Adeline 
wondered why Maggie would never take any money from her. Each time she 
insisted on paying the regular price and Maggie always refused. Another 
thing that should have made Adeline suspicious is the fact that Patty never 
complained about babysitting with Jack. It was the first time in three years 
that Adeline had found anybody with enough guts to do it twice in a row, 
which is one reason she didn't used to go out very often. And yet Patty 
always said, "Trouble? No, he didn't give me any trouble. He's a little 
angel." It was weird, but still Adeline didn't catch on to what all this was 
leading up to. 

Neither did Jack, even though he knew about the stud service now and that 
Stevie was one of the studs. He and Stevie even played threesies with Rose 
one night, but he would never have believed that his mother would get mixed 
up in anything like that, let alone that she was upstairs at that very 
moment sucking off Roy's little brother. 

The night I was with Jack (finally, after Rose, Maggie and even Patty had 
had him) he said he wished he had a mother like Rose and me. I asked him why 
and he said, "So I could fuck ladies for money like Stevie and Mick and 
them." Later that night I asked Maggie why she was dragging it out so long. 
I told her I thought Jack and Adeline were about as ready as they were going 
to get. Maggie didn't agree. She said, "We gotta be real careful with 
Adeline. I'm still not sure how she's gonna take it. She still hasn't 
admitted-even to Rose-that she's got the hots for Jack, and there's still 
one hell of a thick wall between her and the boy. No, we better wait a 
while, Gina." 

But that Friday Maggie wished she'd listened to me. 

Just as she'd predicted, the business came in all in a rush. She'd had only 
one female customer so far-an elderly barfly type-and the girls' business 
had actually declined, because it seemed the local whorehoppers didn't go 
for all those little boys hanging around. However, the barfly must have felt 
she got her money's worth because she made reservations for another go at it 
Friday night-for her and a friend-and that was actually the beginning of the 
rush, as it turned out. That happened on Wednesday. 

Then on Friday, early in the afternoon, in the form of a chic-looking 
businesslike young lady, came the first good-sized strike and Aunt Maggie 
eagerly set the hook. It seemed the young lady-who never smiled once the 
whole time-was the private secretary of some rich bitch in Palm Beach. Once 
in Maggie's office, the secretary laid it right on the table: "I understand 
you have young boys for sale," she said. 

A cop wouldn't have come on like that so Maggie felt safe. "Not for sale," 
she said. "For rent." 

The secretary sighed with disgust and impatience. "Please, Miss McDonald, I 
haven't much time," she said crisply, pulling a checkbook out of her 
briefcase. "My employer wishes me to make an appointment for her with two of 
your children this evening at-" 

"Children?" Maggie protested. 

"Miss McDonald," snapped the girl. "I assure you I haven't the slightest 
interest in the technical terminology of your profession. Call them what you 
like but my employer wishes to enlist the services of two of them this 
evening at nine o'clock sharp. Naturally, we expect this to be held in the 
strictest confidence." 

"Naturally," Maggie said, eyeing the checkbook. 

"Otherwise my employer would be forced to take, shall we say, unpleasant 
measures against your establishment. The fee, please." 

Maggie tripled the regular price, the secretary wrote the check, said, "Good 
day," and stalked out like she had a corncob stuck up her ass. 

"Two of 'em!" Maggie yelled and she went running through the hotel, waving 
the check over her head like a flag. 

Everything would have been fine if it had stopped there, but it didn't. At 
about eight o'clock-while everybody was frantically getting the rooms ready 
for the guests and Oscar was rushing up and down the stairs like a headless 
chicken, getting ready for another test of the TV screen, with Maggie 
cursing at him in a steady stream, swearing that if he blew up her office 
again she was going to tie a wire around his balls and plug him in-the phone 
rang. 

I tended the desk while Maggie went into the office to take the call and she 
was still in there when the barfly and her friend arrived. I took them up to 
their rooms and introduced them to the boys Maggie had assigned to them, 
Teddy and Rick. Originally Mick was supposed to take care of one of them, 
but after the Palm Beach broad's secretary had dropped in Maggie had pulled 
him off that job and put Rick on it instead. Because she wanted her best 
fuckers-Mick and Stevie-to take on the rich bitch. 

When I got back to the lobby Maggie was leaning against the office door with 
her hand pressed between her tits and her mouth hanging open as if she were 
having chest pains or something. 

I said, "Aunt Maggie, what's the matter?" 

She looked at me with wide, glazed eyes and said, "Holy shit." 

You'll see what this was all about in a few minutes, but meanwhile things 
were coming to a head at Adeline's house, too. 

Adeline hadn't planned to go to the Sago tonight because she figured she'd 
been overdoing it a bit, imposing on Maggie's generosity like that. And ever 
since she'd informed Jack that she'd be staying home this evening the boy 
had been in a shitty mood, surly and withdrawn. Adeline didn't connect 
Jack's mood with her decision to stay home, but it did make her nervous 
because whenever Jack got like that it usually meant that trouble was on the 
way. And so it was. 

This week of fucking had no doubt done both of them a lot of good. In fact, 
Adeline was noticeably easier to get along with-more relaxed and comfortable 
with people-and Jack hadn't brought home a single note from school all week. 
But when the two of them were together it was a different story. If 
anything, their relationship was more strained than before. No matter how 
much Adeline wanted to show some sign of affection or tenderness toward the 
boy, she just couldn't force herself to do it. And Jack had been acting 
colder than ever toward her lately, which didn't make it any easier. 

The reason Jack had been acting like that was that he was getting madder and 
madder about not being able to join Aunt Maggie's stud farm. He imagined 
boys all over town happily fucking their mothers while he had to get stuck 
with this prudish old bitch who thought pricks weren't made for anything 
except to piss through. The only time he could get any pussy was when the 
old bag went to one of her stupid bridge parties. And then today, just as he 
was planning how he was going to fuck Rose in the ass in a few hours, here 
she comes to tell him she's staying home tonight. Oh, did that piss him off. 

As it got dark that evening Adeline started getting horny and began to 
regret her decision. She went outside to see if she could get a look at 
Jack's prick through the window. But he wasn't in his bedroom and he wasn't 
in the bathroom. What was that boy up to now? This question was partially 
answered when she got back to the front door. It was a glass jalousie door 
and as soon as she started to open it, all the jalousies fell out on the 
concrete step with a tremendous crash and glass flew everywhere. 

As soon as Adeline had recovered from the shock-luckily she only suffered a 
few scratches around the ankles-she saw that all the little metal clips that 
hold the jalousies in had been bent out straight so that the jalousies would 
fall out as soon as somebody touched the door. It didn't take a great deal 
of thought to figure out who might have done such a thing. 

"John Howard Charles!" Adeline cried in a threatening voice as she stormed 
into the house. "Come out here this instant!" 

Jack strode into the living room with just the hint of a shit-eating grin 
behind his look of puzzled innocence. "Did you call me, Mother?" he said. 

"I certainly did," Adeline said. "You sit yourself down over there, young 
man. We're going to have a little talk." 

These "little talks" were nothing new to Jack. This was when he got his 
allowance taken away from him or some shit like that. He always sat on a 
straight chair by the TV and his mother always sat in the big armchair with 
gold embroidery on it. This time Jack was prepared. 

"Now," Adeline said sternly as she lowered herself stiffly into the chair, 
"would you mind explaining-AAAHU " 

Her arms and legs flew straight up in the air, she folded in the middle like 
a jackknife and-THUD!-her ass hit the floor like a sack of potatoes. How 
could she have know that Jack had cleverly removed the springs from 
underneath the cushion, framework and all? Pitfalls were one of his 
specialties and he was particularly proud of this one. 

Well, that was just too much for Adeline. Losing her cool altogether, she 
came flailing up out of that chair like an enraged orangutan, bore down on 
little Jack with clenched fists and would probably have clobbered him but he 
was prepared for that, too. 

"Don't you dare touch me!" he warned, taking hold of a string that was 
hanging down from the ceiling beside his right shoulder. "Or else I'll pull 
this string." 

"Wha-?!" Adeline stopped, trembling all over with rage, and looked at the 
string. 

She followed it up the wall to where it passed through the hook of a swag 
lamp, then across the ceiling to the far wall where it was hooked over a 
small nail that had been driven into the cypress paneling. From the nail the 
string went down the wall and disappeared behind the large, ornately framed 
mirror that hung there. This mirror was six feet long and three feet wide, a 
beautiful thing, it was an heirloom that had been in the Charles family 
since the time of Henry V who, legend has it, brought it back from France as 
a battle spoil after the famous invasion of 1415. Adeline turned slowly and 
looked at Jack. Then she looked at the string. Then she looked at the mirror 
again, then back to Jack. 

"John Charles," she said in a trembling whisper. "Don't you dare!" 

"Don't I dare what?" 

"Pull that string!" 

Jack pulled that string. "JOHN-!" 

The big heavy mirror slid smoothly from the wall, almost in slow motion it 
seemed, like the front edge of a glacier slipping into the sea, and with a 
brittle roar crumbled into a million tiny pieces. When the dust settled it 
looked like a huge sparkly jigsaw puzzle that somebody had dumped on the 
floor. 

Jack was no fool, and since that was the last trick he'd had time to rig up, 
he judged quite correctly that the time had come to make a run for it. 

But he underestimated the speed his mother was capable of. 

"Why you little-!" 

"Help!" 

She nailed him with a flying tackle at the two-yard line-that is, right in 
front of the door to his bedroom, where he had hoped to hole up until things 
had cooled down a little. 

The battle that followed must have been something to see. In less than a 
minute they had demolished a knick-knack stand (also an antique), scattering 
bits of broken china all over the hall, and their, clothes were in shreds. 
Adeline's skirt was ripped completely off, the front of her dress was torn 
from her left shoulder and her left bra strap was broken. Jack's shirt was 
split all the way up the back and his jeans and Jockey shorts were down 
around his crotch. 

There were many times during the struggle that their hands and faces came 
into intimate if violent contact with each other's private parts. Once, when 
Jack rolled on top of Adeline, trying to hit her on the head with a leg of 
the knick-knack stand, his prick rubbed right over her cunt, with nothing 
between the two organs except the thin nylon crotch of the see-through 
bikini panties Adeline had taken to wearing lately. 

Another time, while Adeline was trying to pin Jack down, her knees slipped 
out from under her and she fell on him, her left tit-the naked one-smashing 
into his face like a balloon full of hot milk and damn near smothering him 
before he managed to get her off him by kneeing her in the crotch. 

But in the heat of the fight they hardly noticed these things. Jack was 
scared shitless and Adeline was completely off her gourd. Finally, she got 
him face-down on the carpet, straddled him, shoved his pants down to his 
knees and sat on his back, facing his wildly kicking feet. 

"Now, you little devil!" she shrieked. "I'm gonna beat your butt till you 
can't-!" 

All of a sudden, with her hand raised over her head, ready to give him the 
walloping of his life, Adeline came to her sense. It was like a flashbulb 
going off in her brain. 

Oh my goodness! 

There she was, her thinly clad ass resting on his bare back, her tit hanging 
out of her bra cup, face to face with her son's naked behind, the round 
little cheeks jerking and jumping as he kicked, and it came to her like an 
electric shock that this was exactly the situation she had wanted to set up 
that night she had watched Jack jerking off in the bathroom. She'd been 
unable to make herself do it then, but now . .. 

The broken jalousies, the ruined chair, the shattered mirror-all that 
slipped through the fingers of Adeline's mind like a handful of water. This 
was it. As usual she began to sweat like a horse. 

Lowering her poised hand, she leaned forward and gripped the backs of Jack's 
knees, subtly spreading his legs a little wider and pinning them to the 
floor. "Now, just s-stop that kicking, John," she said. Her voice was still 
trembling but not from anger any more. 

Oh, God!. . . 

This bending over maneuver brought her cunt against the boy's spine and he 
felt the hot stickiness of it. More importantly, it brought Adeline's face 
very close to his clenched ass. Her nose was practically in the crack, and 
he felt her hot breath on his lower cheeks and the backs of his balls. 

What the hell? he wondered. 

Adeline just sat there, bent over, motionless, hardly even breathing, sweat 
from her crotch and thighs running down Jack's sides, dripping onto his 
right hip from her naked nipple and into the crack of his ass from the tip 
of her nose. She looked like a statue of ice sitting inside a blast furnace. 

Then she began sliding her wet palms up the backs of Jack's thighs, leaving 
them slick and shiny. He wasn't kicking any more, he was lying very still. 
He didn't guess the truth-even under these circumstances he never would have 
believed anything like that about his mother-but he was getting a hard-on 
just the same. 

Adeline couldn't see that, though, because his prick was tucked up 
underneath his belly. If she had seen it things might have happened 
differently. 

Now her hands were all the way up to where the cheeks of his ass started. 
There were his little balls, his adorable little nuts, just a quarter of an 
inch from her thumbs. They were like robins' eggs, so tiny and oval, right 
there in front of her eyes. And his little dick was under there. . . . She 
remembered how it had looked that night ... the slick red head ... the way 
his foreskin shuttled up and down over it . . . flash, flash, flash . . . 
like a signal. . . . 

Then, slow as the hand of a clock, Adeline slid her trembling palms up over 
the round warm softness of those luscious little cheeks, gradually spreading 
them apart until. . . 

Oh, Lord! . . . until she could see his asshole. Oh, that delicious-looking 
little dimple! So small and pink and tight and-! 

Adeline's tongue swelled up like a cock. She was bent over so far now that 
her tits were flattened on Jack's lower back-and the nipple of the naked one 
was burning into his skin like a hot coal. Her lips were almost brushing the 
insides of his asscheeks and she wouldn't even have had to move her head to 
stick her tongue up his hole. 

She might have done it, too, but Jack had been getting more and more nervous 
and now-with her holding his butt open like that-he began to wonder if maybe 
he hadn't pushed her a bit too far this time. Like, maybe she was going to 
do something horrible to him, ram something up his ass or something like 
that! (It was easier for Jack to believe his mother capable of torture than 
of sex.) He sort of panicked and tried to draw his buttocks together but he 
couldn't, she was holding them too tight. 

"Hey, Mother," he said, "wh-what're you gonna do?" 

That hit Adeline like a bucket of ice water, breaking the spell completely. 
With a gasp-"Oh!"-she jerked her hands from Jack's ass-which snapped shut 
like a rat trap-and sat bolt upright. 

Had she taken leave of her sense? Was she mad? Good heavens! This innocent 
little boy! This child! 

Her own child! He wasn't even aroused! He didn't even know-! And she had 
almost-! Another instant and she would have-! Oh, shame, shame! 

With tears of anguish and self-loathing in her eyes, she jumped up and 
started kicking little Jack in the ribs. 

"Hey-! Ouch, ouch, ouch-!" 

"Get in your room, you bad boy!" Adeline sobbed angrily. "Get in there!" 
Kick, kick! "And don't come out!" 

Jack scrambled into his room as fast as he could, losing his pants in the 
process, and taking one last wild look at his bare ass Adeline slammed the 
door so hard that the framed photograph of her husband at the end of the 
hall jumped off the wall and landed face-down on the floor among the 
fragments of the china tea set and the scattered shreds of clothing. After 
five years in Vietnam, Adeline's husband would probably have felt right at 
home in there. 

Adeline staggered back from the door, tripped over Jack's Jockey shorts, 
picked herself up and broke into a lurching run for the telephone, 
ricocheting off the walls like a drunk or a billiard ball or something. 

It was now about eight-thirty. 

CHAPTER SEVEN 

"Hello?" 

"Rose! This is (gasp!) Adeline!" 

"Hi, Adeline. This is Patty. Mama's not here." 

"Oh . . . Uh, Patty, do you think you could, uh, stay with John tonight?" 

"Tonight? Mama said you weren't going to the-I mean, that you were staying 
home tonight." (Patty wasn't supposed to know about the Sago.) 

"Yes, that's-that's what I had planned," Adeline panted. "But, uh, something 
has come up. I-I've got to, uh, see somebody about something. It's, uh, 
urgent." 

"Oh," Patty said. "Well, I guess-AH!" 

"Patty! What's the matter?" 

"Huh? Oh, nothing. I just, uh, stubbed my toe." 

"Stubbed your toe," Roy snickered. 

Patty slapped at him over her shoulder but missed. "Uh, yeah, Adeline, I 
guess I can make it. My boyfriend can drive me over." 

"Oh, Patty, you're a dear! I-I'll pay you double!" 

"Oh, far out." 

"I, uh, I'm in a bit of a hurry to leave, Patty. Uh-" 

"Okay, I'll be there in a few minutes." 

"I really appreciate this, Patty. I-I-I-" 

"Sure, sure. See ya later, Adeline." She hung up and said, "Roy, I wish 
you-mm!-wouldn't do that while I'm talking on the phone." 

"I wish you wouldn't talk on the phone while I'm doing this," Roy said. "Do 
we have to go over there again tonight? I thought we were gonna stay home 
and . . . Who the hell are ya callin' up now?" 

"Hello!" shouted a voice from the telephone. Patty made a face, peered into 
the receiver, then put it back to her ear. "I mean, er, Good evening, Sago 
Hotel, may I help you?" 

"Who's this-Aunt Maggie?" 

"Yeah-at least I think it is. Who's this?" 

"Patty. What's the matter?" 

"Oh, nothing," Maggie said. "I'm just going out of my fucking mind, that's 
all. What's up, kid?" 

"Adeline just called," Patty said. "She's gonna be over there in a few 
minutes and I just thought I oughta let ya know." 

"What?!" 

Patty told her about her conversation with Adeline. 

Maggie said, "Oh, that's just great. That's all I need. You call her back 
and tell her to forget it, y' hear?" 

"But I already told her I'd do it, Aunt Maggie. I mean, she really sounded 
fucked up, y' know?" 

"She sounded fucked up? Well, how do I sound, for Christ's sake? Look, I got 
a full house, Patty. Rick and Teddy are up there with two old girls right 
now and I'm holding Mickie and your brother for some rich broad from Palm 
Beach that's supposed to be here any minute now. That's it, see? Four 
stinking kids! That's all we got. Already I've had to turn away two jet-set 
types that dropped in a while ago and-" 

"Jesus," Patty said. "Business is booming all of a sudden." 

"Yeah, great, if I had the fucking kids, which I don't. But that's not the 
worst of it. A little while ago I got a long distance call from Miami. 
You're not gonna believe this but it was from Mrs. . . .!" (She gave the 
woman's name, the wife of a big land developer and insurance man, but I'm 
not about to. All I can tell you is that this guy is one of the ten richest 
men in the country, and he's not at the bottom of the list, either. We'll 
call this broad Mrs. M.-for "Moneybags.") 

"Holy shit!" Patty said. 

"That's what I said. I damn near pissed my pants. She talked for about 
fifteen minutes, very careful not to say anything specific, y' know? I 
didn't know what the hell to think at first. Asked a bunch of dumb questions 
about the hotel, as if it was the Waldorf Astoria or something instead of 
this crummy back-street dump, and I'm doin' my best to be cool, see? Said 
she was 'rather bored' with going everywhere in her old man's private jet 
and she was planning a drive to Boston in her limousine like everyday folks, 
and she was lining up some 'suitable hotels' along the way, didn't I see. 
'Oh, yes, ma'am,' I said. 'Very sensible,' and shit like that. Maybe she was 
afraid the phone was bugged, I don't know. Finally she says, 'Oh, by the 
way, while I was in your city recently I was told by a friend that you 
operate a rather unusual child care service.' 

"I thought, hot damn, here it comes! But what a way to put it, huh? I said, 
'Child care service?' She said, yes, she understood we took care of children 
while their parents went out in the evenings and that it was sort of a 
guest-participation thing. I thought, wow. I said, 'Oh, yes, Mrs. M., we 
thought it was terrible the way so many children were being left home alone 
at night due to the shortage of babysitters in our community.' 'Very 
commendable,' she says, and I said, 'Many of the ladies among our guests 
really enjoy taking care of the little fellows, you know.' Oh, yes, she 
could certainly understand that, she said. As a matter of fact, that was why 
she 'broached the subject.' She said if a stop at the Sago happened to fall 
into her schedule she would be glad to volunteer to, ah, take care of one of 
the, ah, little fellows herself." 

Patty cracked up and Roy said, "Ouch! Hey, cut it out! Ow, ow, ow!" 

Patty controlled her laughter and said, "Sorry," over her shoulder. 

"What's all that?" Maggie asked. 

"Nothing," Patty chuckled. "So what happened then?" 

"Well, she explained that all her kids were grown up and that she seldom saw 
her grandkids and that she really was quite good with children and loved to 
be around them and all kinds .of shit like that. I told her we'd be deeply 
honored to have her participate in our, ah, program and we'd be looking 
forward to her visit. I damn near collapsed when she finally hung up. I 
mean, this is great! That old gal could lay so much bread on us we could 
make this dump look like the Taj Mahal! Easy Street, baby! But what if she 
shows up on a night like this and I'm stuck without a kid for her? It'd be a 
fucking disaster!" 

"Well, she's not comin' tonight, is she?" 

"No, thank God. In a few days maybe, she said. We just gotta get more kids!" 

"What about Betsy's kid? I thought she was gonna bring him in." 

"Stanley? Yeah, she finally moved him in the other day but that's all she's 
done. She don't want anybody to ball him before she does and there ain't 
much I can do about that, except give her hell, all the time, which I've 
been doin'. Every fuckin' night she says, 'This time for sure, Maggie,' and 
every fuckin' morning she comes out with that chickenshit grin on her face, 
sayin', 'Tomorrow night for sure, Maggie.' I mean, Jesus Christ, you 
wouldn't think an old whore like Betsy would make such a big fucking deal 
out of it, would you? She's in there with him again right now. Meanwhile, 
we're gettin' swamped, and now you tell me Adeline's comin'! No way, Patty. 
Call her back and tell her you broke your leg or something." 

"Aw, Aunt Maggie," Patty panted, "I can't-uhn!-I can't do that. I tell ya, 
she really sounded fucked up. Just like that first night-uhn!-only worse, I 
think." 

"Well, what the hell am I supposed to do about it?! She wants a boy and we 
just ain't got any . . . Wait a minute. Hm . . . If she's that bad off ... I 
don't know, she's not ready for this but maybe we can pull a shitty on her 
and get ourselves another stud at the same time. We could put her in my 
room, the big one with the waterbed, and ... It'll be tricky and she could 
cause us a lot of trouble if it doesn't work, but. ..." 

"If what doesn't-uhn!-work?" 

"Never mind. You just get Jack over here as soon as ya can and we'll.. . 
Patty, what the hell's the matter with you?" 

"Nothin'," Patty grunted. "I'm fine." 

"Well, what's all that pantin' and puffin' all about?" 

"Oh, that," Patty giggled. "Roy's fuckin' me in the ass." 

"Oh," Maggie said. "Well, hang up, you're gettin' me hot." 

Patty hung up and came. Roy came, too, and then they got dressed and left. 
Five minutes later Adeline was on her way to the hotel. 

"Holy shit," Roy said, looking around at the ruins of Adeline's living room. 
"This is worse than Aunt Maggie's office after Dad blew it up." 

"You oughta see the hall," Jack said. 

"What happened?" 

"Me and Mother had a little fight." 

"Jesus Christ," Patty said, picking a sliver of glass out of her foot. "Good 
thing you didn't have a big one." 

Jack said, "I thought Mother was stay in' home tonight." 

"I guess she changed her mind," Patty said. "You ready to get laid?" 

"Hell, yes!" said Jack, his little face lighting up. "Let's go then." 

Meanwhile, at the hotel-while Teddy fucked the barfly and her boozy friend 
played 69 with little Rick and Oscar clambered frantically up and down 
ladders with a half-burnt copy of Popular Electronics in one hand and a 
screwdriver in the other and Stevie and Mick waited impatiently for the lady 
from Palm Beach and Aunt Maggie and Rose ran amok trying to get Maggie's 
room rigged up for Adeline, all to the steady background music of squeaking 
bedsprings from the rooms of Mary, Goldy and Beverly-Betsy was in her room, 
sweating it out with her son Stanley. 

Betsy wasn't at all pleased with the way this was turning out. Stanley had 
seemed to take it pretty well when she told him she was a whore and all-she 
guessed he must have suspected anyway-but ever since she'd moved him into 
the hotel he'd been sullen and withdrawn, always in a shitty mood. Maggie 
kept heckling her to break him in but she couldn't just rape him, for 
Christ's sake. 

Not that she didn't want to. That was what she had realized after getting it 
on with little Jack that night, that she had actually wanted to fuck her son 
for a long time now but had never admitted it to herself until then. That 
was why she decided to move him in and to let him join the stud farm if he 
wanted to-but to let him do that, take on all those strange women, without 
doing it with her first, was unthinkable to Betsy. After all, a mother had 
some rights, didn't she? 

But how could she fuck him when she couldn't even talk to him? 

Stanley was thirteen but small for his age-a soft-bodied little boy, not fat 
but with a round freckled face, a shock of thick red hair on his head and 
none at all between his legs. There had never been that hang-up about nudity 
between him and his mother like between Jack and Adeline, so tonight Betsy 
was wearing one of her transparent dressing gowns-a yellow, lace-edged, 
front-opening thing, gathered loosely under her enormous tits with a silk 
sash-and Stanley wasn't wearing anything but his underpants. Betsy was 
propped up in bed, flipping nervously through a magazine, and Stanley was 
sitting glumly in the chair by the window, as usual, staring out into the 
dark alley. 

For the last three nights they had played and replayed this dismal scene, 
sometimes sitting for hours without saying a word, and when Betsy did say 
something Stanley usually ignored her. A break in the stalemate was on its 
way, however. It was all a matter of mutual misunderstanding, as it turned 
out, and this was about to clear itself up. 

Betsy thought about Maggie chewing her out again in the morning and she 
threw her magazine down in exasperation. "Stanley, what is it?" she pleaded. 
"Why are you acting like this?" 

"I ain't actin' like anything," Stanley mumbled without looking at her. 

Betsy sighed and hung her head. "It's because you're ashamed of me, isn't 
it? I never shoulda told you how I . . . make my living." 

"I knew it anyway," Stanley muttered. 

"Well, then-?" 

"And I ain't ashamed of ya." 

"Yes, you are." 

"No, I ain't!" the boy snapped, looking daggers at her and then turning back 
to the window. 

"Well. . . you're mad at me, then. What are you mad at me about?" 

Stanley didn't say anything. 

"Stanley, why don't you tell me what-?" 

Stanley let out a loud sigh of boredom and slammed his pudgy little hand 
down on the arm of the chair. "Speakin' of makin' your living," he said, 
"how come you ain't doin' it? Aunt Maggie ain't payin' ya to hang around in 
here every night, is she?" 

Betsy stared at the back of his head. She was confused and upset but at 
least she had him talking and that was something. She said, "Why ... I'm 
sort of . . . on vacation . . . sort of. Anyway, I'd much rather spend my 
evenings with you than-" 

"Bullshit," Stanley said. 

"Stanley! It is not bullshit! Don't you think I like to be with you?" 

Stanley muttered something Betsy couldn't make out-something like, "Not as 
much as you like to be with" somebody or other. 

"What?" she asked. 

"Nothin'." 

"Come on, Stanley, for God's sake tell me what you're mad at me about!" 

Finally, the kid whipped around in his chair and glared at her angrily. 
"Okay, you wanta know what I'm mad about? I'll tell ya what I'm mad about! 
I'm mad about what you did with that little shitass Jack or whatever his 
name is! That's what I'm mad about!" 

Oh, shit! Betsy thought. How did he find out about that? One of the other 
boys must have told him. He is ashamed of me! His own mother, going to bed 
with a little boy! He must think I'm just awful, doing a thing like that! He 
thinks even a whore shouldn't stoop that low! Oh, God, it'll never work now, 
not if that's the way he feels about it. I'll just have to tell Maggie it's 
all off and move him back into the apartment. Goddamn it, I never should 
have- "Well, aren't ya gonna say nothin'?" Stanley demanded, still glaring 
at her. 

"I . . . But, Stanley, Maggie made me do it!" 

"Bullshit." 

"She did! She's my boss, ya know." 

"You liked it." 

"I did not! I only ..." Oh, what was the use? Betsy hung her head in shame. 
"Okay, so I like it. So I'm a rotten old whore that'll spread for anything. 
So well move back to the apartment and-" 

"I don't wanta move back to the apartment." 

"Well, what do you want, then? You want me to put ya up for adoption or-?" 

"You know damn well what I want. Why don't ya stop playin' dumb? Why don't 
ya just say, 'No, you're too fat,' or something!?" 

Betsy looked up at him. "Who's too fat?" 

"Me," 

Huh? . . . "You're not fat, Stanley. What the hell are you talkin' about?" 

Stanley rolled his eyes in disgust. "Jesus Christ," he said. 

"I don't get it," Betsy said. "You lost me." 

Stanley glanced at her bushy cunt which was sticking out where the gown 
parted and at her oversized boobs with their big pancake nipples showing 
vividly through the sheer yellow nylon. Then he looked at her puzzled face 
and seemed to realize that maybe she really didn't understand. "Listen," he 
said patiently in a voice you would use if you were talking to a simpleton, 
"what if you was livin' with your father and he was fuckin' some little girl 
the same age as you and he wouldn't do it with you? Like, you're his own 
daughter and he doesn't even hardly know this other girl but still he won't 
. . . Well, how would you feel?" 

Betsy wasn't sure, but right now she felt a little dizzy. She said, "Would 
you . . . run through that again?" 

"Never mind," Stanley sighed. "Why don't ya just leave me alone?" And he 
turned back to the window. 

Betsy just sat there for a few minutes. Then she said, "Stanley, are you 
trying to tell me that you . . . that you want to fuck me?" 

"Well, what the hell do ya expect?" Stanley shouted, spinning around again, 
"-the way you're all the time paradin' around bare-ass and shakin' them tits 
in my face and everything?! Y' think that's not supposed to do anything to 
me just 'cause you're my mother? What d'ya think, I'm some kinda freak or 
something" 

"Stanley-!" 

"Go ahead and get mad, I don't care." 

Betsy would have leaped up and bear-hugged him but she was too dizzy. She 
almost fell off the bed. "Stanley, honey," she said. "I'm not mad at you. 
Come sit over here." She patted the bed beside her. 

"You are, too," the boy said sullenly. 

"I am not. Come on, honey, Please." 

Finally, Stanley got up and went over to the bed. The crotch of his 
undershorts was sticking straight out in a point. Betsy reached out and 
slipped her trembling fingers inside the elastic waistband, drawing it a few 
inches down his soft, freckled little belly. 

"Why don't ya take these off?" she said. 

Stanley looked down at her suspiciously for a minute, his blue eyes 
flickering over her tits. Then he stepped out of his shorts and sat down on 
the edge of the bed. 

His prick was short and thick with a little mushroom head. It was hard as a 
rock and when Betsy wrapped her hot fingers around it, gently skinning it 
down, it got even harder. 

"You're a cute kid," Betsy said in a husky voice, smiling seductively up at 
him, "but, God, are you dumb. What the hell do ya think I've been try in' to 
get you to do for the last three nights?" 

Stanley swallowed, then shrugged, trying to keep his cool. "Why didn't ya 
say so?" he said. 

"Why didn't you?" 

"You never asked me." 

They looked into each other's eyes for a minute and then giggled. 

Then Betsy let her hand slip from Stanley's prick, lay back on the bed, 
undid her sash, opened her dressing gown, spread her legs, held her arms out 
toward the boy and said, "Come to Ma-" 

Just then the TV monitor that Oscar had installed over the bed crackled into 
life and some politician said, "Come home, America!"-and then there was a 
little pop! and the screen went dark. So did all the lights in the room. 

CHAPTER EIGHT 

If she could have found him in the dark, Maggie would have strung Oscar up 
by the balls for sure. It was nothing serious, though-he had blown a master 
fuse, that was all, and it only took him a few minutes to replace it. I 
still don't see how he managed to tune in a national network on a 
closed-circuit TV system, but then neither does he. 

Adeline had arrived by this time and she and Rose were halfway up the stairs 
when the lights went off. When they came back on and the confusion had died 
down, the ladies went on up to the second floor and Rose continued her 
briefing. She had already explained to Adeline that this was a new boy she 
was getting tonight and that he was a little weird. The only way he would do 
it was in complete darkness. 

"Not only that," Rose went on, "he has to have complete silence, too. If you 
say one single word you'll spook him and it'll be all over. So don't say 
anything, and don't turn on any lights-don't even light a cigarette-because 
if you fuck this up, that's it, there's not another available kid in the 
house." 

Adeline was a little calmer now with the prospect of a piece of ass ahead of 
her-a strange piece at that. "Ill be careful," she said. "Business seems to 
be picking up, doesn't it?" 

"It sure does," Rose said. "In fact, that's why we had to set you up in 
Maggie's room tonight. It's the only one that's not being used. You're lucky 
there, though. It's the biggest room in the place, except for the Bridal 
Suite, and she's got a huge waterbed in there. I'll bet you've never been 
laid on a waterbed, have you?" 

"No, never," Adeline said with a nervous laugh. 

"Well, you're going to be tonight. Here we are." Rose put her hand on the 
doorknob and whispered: "Duck in quick as soon as I open the door, and don't 
forget what I told you." 

Adeline nodded, slipped into the darkness and Rose shut the door behind her. 

Adeline almost cried out in alarm and blew the whole gig right then and 
there. It was like going blind and having a sack thrown over your head at 
the same time. Rose should have told her about the black curtain they had 
hung up in front of the door. She managed to grope her way out from behind 
the curtain but it was still just as dark as before. That was because they 
had also hung black curtains over the windows to shut out the red glow of 
the neon sign over the bar across the street. Adeline had expected it to be 
dark but not that dark. 

How am I supposed to even find the bed? she wondered. That was another thing 
Rose had forgot to tell her. Oh, well. First things first, she thought and 
proceeded to remove all her clothes. 

Then she moved cautiously forward, one step at a time, hands stretched out 
in front of her, feeling her way through the empty blackness. She found a 
chair, a wall, a table of some kind . . . but where the fuck was the bed? 
Then she stubbed her toe on something and fell flat on her face. 

SPLOOSH! GURGLE, GURGLE! 

Again, it was all she could do to keep from crying out. It was like falling 
into something between a bathtub and a fur-covered trampoline. She held her 
breath until the sloshing and gurgling stopped and found herself "floating" 
on a soft, furry, undulating something that rocked and rolled gently under 
her naked body. It was like being at sea on a rubber raft covered with a 
bearskin rug on the darkest night of the year. It was sort of nice. 

This must be the waterbed, she thought and, steadying herself, began a 
groping advance, slithering forward on her belly like a snake. 

She hadn't groped far before her hand came in contact with a foot. A small 
foot. Ah-ha, she thought. Ankle, shin, knee, thigh. . . . Mmmmmmm! 

Oh, this felt like a nice one! Solid, hairless little balls, drawn up tight 
between his smooth little legs. Firm asscheeks, tight crack, warm-Oh, he was 
ready, too! His buttocks clenched on her probing finger and his stiff little 
cock sprang into her other hand, twitching. Mm. Uncircumcised, like Jack's. 
She skinned it down and found the hard bullet-nosed head all slick and warm. 
Thin, hot oily fluid welled up out of the little hole under her thumb and 
she slid her thumb off and tasted it with the tip of her tongue. 

Mmmmmmm! Delicious! This was going to be fun, doing it in the dark like 
this. I know what I'll do, she thought, her cunt watering at the idea. I'll 
pretend it's John! 

The boy spread his legs wide and Adeline felt his fingers combing through 
her hair. She moved up over him and rubbed his juicy little cockhead on her 
nipples until they were puffed up and the knobs were fully erect, as hard as 
raisins. Then she took her tits in her hands and sandwiched his prick 
tightly between them. His slim hips began to hump eagerly and he fucked her 
like that for a while. 

Then Adeline moved further up on the bed, straddling the boy's waist and 
lowering a nipple to his mouth. The tender young lips closed over it and 
immediately began to suck the slippery wet knob. 

Oh, suck it, Jack! Suck Mother's tit! As he sucked she scrubbed her hairy 
crotch against his belly and her cunt got juicier and juicier and pretty 
soon the juice had filled up his belly button. 

Mmmmmm! Now suck the other one, honey. She guided her other nipple to his 
mouth and slid her cunt down along his belly until she felt his prick 
twitching in the crack of her ass. Suck, suck, suck! Oh, Jack! She reached 
back and started to shove his prick into her cunt, then hesitated. . . . 

No, wait. Let's take up where we left off. Yeah! And this time we'll do it 
right! 

She rolled the boy over on his stomach and reversed herself, mounting him 
head-to-foot like she had done on the floor of the hall in front of Jack's 
room less than an hour ago. She replayed the whole thing-sliding her hand up 
along the backs of his legs to his little bare butt, bending over so that 
her tits rested on his back, spreading the soft cheeks, breathing into his 
crack-but this time she didn't stop there. 

Caressing his balls with the tip of her nose, Adeline stuck out her tongue 
and wiggled it hungrily into his tight, sweet little asshole. 

O-o-o-o-o-h-h-h-h, J-a-a-ack! 

Meanwhile, the rich bitch from Palm Beach had arrived, right on time, all 
business, just like her secretary, and was now sitting on Stevie's face 
while she sucked Mick's prick. I was working a little myself that night, to 
take some of the load off the other girls, and it was when I opened my door 
to let one guy out and another one in that I saw her-the rich bitch-down in 
the lobby clarifying certain "security matters" with Maggie. She was a sort 
of gaunt hard-bodied old thing, about fifty I guess, with grim-looking eyes, 
a hawk nose and small sharp tits that stuck out under her gray flannel suit 
like a pair of horns. She had money all right, you could see that, but from 
the looks of her I was sure she wasn't the benefactor Aunt Maggie was 
looking for. 

Elsewhere in the hotel, the bar-fly and her friend were still going strong 
with Rick and Teddy, and Teddy's father was still dashing through the halls, 
his nose buried in his Popular Electronics, muttering to himself and running 
into things. Downstairs, Maggie and Rose had their heads together, making 
all kinds of elaborate plans about how they were really going to put it on 
for old Mrs. Moneybags and sweep her right off her feet, and the bedsprings 
in the girls' rooms were still squeaking away (Goldy had to take on two at a 
time at one point) and in Betsy's room things were going beautifully. It 
must have been about this time that old George Hellow came staggering in. 
But first let's look in on Betsy. 

Stanley had his round little face buried between his mama's gigantic jugs, 
pressing them against his ears with his pudgy hands, and his plump little 
freckle-cheeked butt was humping up and down between her open thighs like a 
couple of punching bags in Mohammed Ali's gym at work-out time. 

Stanley had never dreamed that a cunt could do the things his mama's cunt 
was doing. He wasn't as stupid about sex as Jack or Stevie had been before 
they got their first piece, but he thought a cunt was mostly just a hole to 
stick your prick in. He knew it was supposed to be tight, but holy shit!-he 
didn't know it was supposed to grab you and squeeze you and suck you and all 
that. If he'd known it would be this good he probably would have raped 
Betsy-or somebody-long before this. 

He was going, "Mf! Mf! Mf!"-his face completely engulfed in the hot flesh of 
those enormous blimps, and Betsy was going: "Oh!-wow!-goddamn! Oh!-ah! 
Shit!-mm! Oh!-ah!-" and all like that. Stanley's stubby little prick was 
really setting her on fire. Her cunt was overflowing like an erupting 
volcano and her head was flopping from side to side and her legs were 
twitching and jerking and her nipples were swollen up so tight it felt like 
they were about to go off like Roman candles and Stanley's belly was going 
splat! splat! splat! in her crotch and-! 

Suddenly, in one powerful spasmodic twitch, she wrapped her long strong 
birdlike legs around her son's pounding ass, hugged his shaggy little head 
to her heaving chest, and doubled up like she had a stomach cramp. 

"Oh!-Stan-Stanley!" she gasped, gurgling on her own drool. "-I-I'm gonna-I'm 
gonna-!" 

"Mf! Mf! Mf!" 

"-I'm gonna c-c-c-!" 

"Mf! Mf! Mf!" 

"CUM!" 

And she did, too, stronger than with Jack, even. Stanley got off about that 
time, too, but she didn't feel his cum squirting against her cunt walls 
until after the main surge of her climax had passed, and as soon as she felt 
it she started cumming all over again. She went into a chain orgasm that she 
didn't think would ever stop! 

In the pitch-black darkness of Maggie's room things were proceeding at a 
slower pace. Slower but not less passionately. Adeline was drawing it out, 
sucking the maximum pleasure out of every caress, savoring every delicious 
moment of the half-real fantasy. 

She was still sitting astraddle the mysterious little boy, facing his feet, 
but now he was on his back, stirring her flooded cunt with one hand and 
tickling her asshole with the other, while she played with his balls and 
jacked his prick. Sometimes she would lift his legs and rub her swollen 
nipples against his knees, and sometimes he would run his little hands up 
her sides and smear cunt juice on her tits. 

Now she slid her crotch back along his slick wet chest, closer to his face, 
bent over and, spreading his legs wide with her hands, sucked his hard, 
smooth little nuts into her mouth. 

Oh, Jack! Oh, honey! I just love your balls! O, God, how I love 'em! 

Then she started sucking his prick, letting her spit run down around his 
balls, and he began pushing on the cheeks of her broad ass, trying to lift 
them, and so she got to her knees and let him position her crotch where he 
wanted it, thinking, Oh, yeah! Yeah, Jack, do that to me! Go ahead! Lick 
Mama's-! 

This time Adeline did make a noise: "Ohm-!" 

She couldn't help it. You can't blame her, she was expecting the kid to eat 
her cunt and instead he stuck his tongue up her ass. Luckily, it didn't 
scare the boy off, though, which was a relief to Adeline. He just kept on 
tongue-fucking her in the asshole, slipping one hand all the way into her 
cunt and frigging her stiff clit with his other thumb, and Adeline kept 
sucking his throbbing little sugar stick for all she was worth, not holding 
back now but really getting it on, going all the way, sucking for cum. 

Oh, give it to me, Jack! Give me your cum! Squirt it in my mouth! Shoot it 
down my throat! Oh, I want it, I want it! 

And it wasn't long before the first blob jetted against her tongue: SPURT! 

And Adeline came at the same time, a great burst of goo farting out of her 
boiling cunt, sputtering around the boy's fingers and dripping down over his 
chin and neck as she gulped his squirting cum, and for a while it was the 
old spurt, gulp! spurt, gulp!-but between, say, the fifth gulp and the sixth 
spurt Adeline became vaguely aware of a commotion out in the hall- "Maggie! 
Hey, Maggie, you in there? I just gotta-!" -And then the door flew open. 

CHAPTER NINE 

I had just finished balling the third guy from some bowling team-they'd 
decided not to go bowling after all-when I heard this loud shriek- 
"AAAAIIIIIHU" -Followed by a thud that shook the whole second floor. 

I thought, holy shit, what was that? and I hopped off the bowler and ran out 
into the hall where I was immediately mauled by the rest of the team who 
were standing in line outside my door. Since I was bare-ass I guess they 
thought I was going to fuck them out there in the hall. 

While I was fighting off these horny bowlers (one of them actually got his 
cock into me with a hicky jab) I saw little Stanley standing in front of the 
door to Maggie's room in his underpants with his hands on top of his head. 
The door was open and he was looking down at the floor inside the room like 
something horrible was going on in there. 

Finally I got loose and ran up to the kid. "What's the matter?" I asked. 
"What hap-?" Then I heard Betsy's muffled voice, crying, "Help! Help! Get me 
outta here!" and I looked down and saw something wrapped up in a black 
shroud, rolling and thrashing around on the floor. It looked like a big 
black lumpy worm having some kind of fit. I said, "What's that?" 

"It's my mama," Stanley said. 

"Oh," I said. "What's she doing down there on the-?" 

Just then two shrill shock-tinged cries of surprise almost simultaneously 
exploded from the darkness beyond the struggling shape: "JOHN!!" 

"MOTHER!!" 

It was fairly obvious what had happened, even then, and later I found out 
the details. Betsy had been bubbling over, so to speak, with joy and 
excitement over having finally made it with her little boy and she just 
couldn't wait to let Maggie in on the good news and tell her how great it 
had been and all. So she had thrown her dressing gown on and Stanley had put 
on his drawers and they had dashed out into the hall where Betsy almost 
collided with Oscar who was shuffling along with his nose in his Popular 
Electronics, reciting Ohm's Law under his breath. 

"Where's Maggie?" Betsy had asked him. 

"In her room, I guess," Oscar had muttered into his magazine. 

So Betsy-who of course didn't know about Maggie's clever scheme to bring 
Jack and his mama together-charged headlong into that black curtain like a 
giraffe running into a net on "Wild Kingdom." 

This blew the scheme all to hell, because Adeline and Jack weren't supposed 
to find out who they'd been in bed with until afterwards when Maggie could 
break it to them gradually, if at all, depending on whether she thought they 
were ready for it. The lighting in the hallway was dim, but in comparison to 
the blind darkness inside the black-out room the light that suddenly 
streamed through the door when the curtain (and Betsy) came crashing down 
was like the beam of a flood lamp. 

The shocking revelation didn't come right at that moment, though, because 
Adeline and Jack had their heads between each other's legs at that time. It 
wasn't until I had fought off my would-be gang-bangers and Adeline's orgasm 
had sputtered out that she slid her mouth off the boy's spent prick and 
turned around to have a look at him. That's where I came in. 

Now they were crouched there, wide-eyed and open-mouthed, gawking at each 
other across the huge waterbed, bobbing up and down like a couple of ducks. 

"John Howard Charles!" Adeline gasped. "What-?! What are you doing here?!" 

"What am I doin' here? Wh-what are you doin' here?" 

"I-! Just-just never you mind that, young man! I-I demand an explanation! 
Who brought you to this horrible place?!" 

"I-uh-I don't think I oughta tell ya." 

"John, I'm warning you! This is the most-! If you don't-! Why, I never would 
have-! Rose! She knew! That's why she told me not to-! Oh . . . oh, dear. . 
. ." 

Adeline didn't know what to do. She felt like she was about to faint. 

Jack looked over at us with dazed eyes and said, "Betsy, uh, I think maybe 
you better go get Aunt Maggie." 

I had switched on a lamp, dragged Stanley into the room and shut the door 
and the kid and I had managed to get Betsy unwrapped before she smothered to 
death. Now the three of us were sitting on the floor digging the scene on 
the waterbed and wondering what to do about it. This was just the sort of 
thing Maggie dreaded-the wrath of a shocked mother-but Betsy didn't seem to 
grasp the seriousness of it. She was in sort of a daze 
herself-understandably enough. 

She said, "I thought Maggie was in here. Sorry I came crashin' in like that 
but I wanted to tell her. . . Hey, I didn't mess ya up in the middle o' 
gettin' your goodies, did I?" 

Jack swallowed and glanced fearfully at Adeline, who had her head bowed, one 
hand over her face and the other pressed to her tits. "No," he said, 
"but..." 

I nudged Betsy in the ribs and said, "Cool it," out of the corner of my 
mouth. "I think it was sort of a blind date. That's his mama." 

"That's your mama?" Betsy said out loud with a broad smile. 

"Uh," said Jack. 

"No shit!" Betsy said happily, jumping up and running over to the bed. She 
bent over, her huge jugs tumbling out of her dressing gown which had come 
open during her battle with the curtain, stuck her hand out toward Adeline 
and said, "Put 'er there, honey! Welcome to the club!" 

Slowly, uncertainly, Adeline lifted her head and looked up at Betsy through 
her fingers. She looked at that grinning face framed in a mane of stiff 
platinum blonde hair that was standing out in all directions, at those naked 
blimplike tits hanging from that skinny body, blinked her eyes and said in a 
shaky voice, "I beg your pardon?" 

I figured I'd better step in but I didn't know exactly how to go about it. I 
said, "Adeline, this is Betsy Jones. Betsy, uh, Adeline Charles." 

"Glad t' meetcha, Addy!" Betsy said, shoving her hand closer to Adeline. 
"First time with your kid, right? Mine, too-with mine, I mean. That's him 
over there. Stanley, say hello to Addy." 

"Uh, hello, Addy," Stanley said nervously. 

"Hey, what's the matter?" Betsy said, peering, curiously at Adeline. "You 
sick or somethin'?" 

Adeline was white as a ghost. She stared at Betsy's outstretched hand for a 
minute, then turned her head and give me a look that damn near shriveled me 
up. Her eyes were like ice cubes. I wished I'd put something on before I 
came running in there. In a cold, trembling, almost inaudible voice that cut 
like a razor blade, she said: "Miss Green, you had better explain this to . 
.. this woman that she, as well as you, and Mrs. Sanders, and her sister, 
and everyone else that was involved in this . . . this abduction of my son, 
will be behind bars in a very short while, and that my advice to her is that 
she spend what time she has left in some better way than-" 

"Behind bars?!" Betsy cried, jerking her hand away and stepping back. "What 
the fuck are you talkin' about?" 

"Uh, we were just leaving," I said, getting up and shoving Stanley toward 
the door. "Come on, Betsy, let's-" 

"Now, wait a minute!" Betsy said. She had her fists on her snakelike hips 
and was glaring down at Adeline, her gigantic tits billowing out in front of 
her and her brown bush bristling between her parted legs like an alarmed 
porcupine. "Wait just a goddamn minute! What's this abduction shit? What's 
the matter, didn't ya like it? I mean, I see ya comin' around here every 
fuckin' night, fuckin' every fuckin' kid y' can get your fuckin' hands on, 
and I never noticed ya complainin' about them. Now ya get a piece o' your 
own kid and-" 

"Mrs. Jones!" 

"It's Miss," Betsy said in the same angry tone. (By now I'm about to shit 
myself. I was in jail once and didn't care for it. All those dykes and 
everything.) "I mean, even if ya didn't like it, that's a hell of a way to 
act, insultin' your kid like that. I mean, Jesus Christ, he did the best he 
could-right, Jack? I mean, shit, Addy, you oughta at least have the good 
manners to-" 

"I didn't say I didn't like it, goddamn you!" Adeline screamed and then she 
covered her face with her hands and began sobbing hysterically. 

"Aw, shit, Addy," Betsy said in a softer tone, sitting down on the bed and 
putting her hand on Adeline's foot, "don't cry. I didn't mean to . . ." 

Jack crawled over to his mother and sat down beside her. He started to put 
his arms around her . . . but it had been a long time since he'd done 
that-in the light-and he didn't quite know how to go about it. Then he 
started to say something, but he couldn't do that either. So he just sat 
there, looking at her. 

Betsy gave the boy an understanding nod and patted Adeline's foot. "Go ahead 
and cry it out, honey," she said. "Hey, don't I know how ya feel? Shit, me 
and Stanley had the same sort o' hang-ups as you guys-didn't we, Stan? I 
mean, there we were, both of us wantin' it and me thinkin' he'd be shocked 
out of his little mind if he knew and him thinkin' the same thing about me 
and both of us gettin' all fucked up in the head and all. But then, hell, 
after we made it everything was okay. That's what I came in here for, see-to 
tell Maggie how groovy it was and all. 'Course, we didn't do it in the dark 
like you guys did and we knew who we were fuckin' and all, so I can 
understand why it shook ya up when I come bustin' in on ya like that. But, 
hell, it's no big thing really. I mean, Rose is ballin' her kid and old 
Oscar's ballin' his daughter and now me and Stanley are gettin' it on and . 
.." 

While Betsy jabbered on like that and Adeline sobbed and Jack sat there 
looking sadly at her, Stanley and I went around to the other side of the bed 
and sat down, mostly just to get out of the line of fire. I'd been about to 
slip out and go get Maggie but now I thought I'd just wait it out and see 
what happened. If Adeline had her heart set on screwing us there wasn't much 
Maggie could do about it anyway. 

I sat cross-legged and Stanley stretched out on his back in front of me. It 
was his first time on a waterbed and he got a big kick out of it. He liked 
the way my tits jiggled when he moved his butt up and down. I guess he felt 
funny being the only one in the room with any clothes on-except for Betsy, 
but that see-through gown of hers could hardly be called "clothes," 
especially when it was hanging open like that-because pretty soon he pulled 
down his underpants and kicked them off. Just to while away the time I 
started playing with his prick and it got hard. I sort of lost track of what 
was happening on the other side of the bed for a few minutes there, but then 
I realized that Adeline had stopped crying and I looked up to see her and 
Jack hugging each other. "Oh, Jack!" 

"I'm sorry I. . . Hey, you never called me Jack before." 

"Can I call you that now?" 

"Sure. I'm sorry about.. . what happened, Mother. See, they told me-" 

"Don't be sorry, honey. And why don't you call me Mom?" 

"Mom?" 

"Uh huh. Or whatever you like." 

"Mom's okay. See, they told me I was gettin' this lady that was shy or 
somethin' and wouldn't do it except in the dark. And they said if I said 
anything she'd get so embarrassed she'd run away and I wouldn'd get any . . 
." 

"Pussy?" 

"Uh huh. Because all the other ladies were busy, they said." 

Adeline relaxed her bear hug and drew back a little, looking into Jack's 
face with smiling, tear-reddened eyes. "You know something?" she said. 

"What?" said Jack. 

"That's the same thing they told me." Jack thought about that for a minute 
and then laughed. 

Then Adeline laughed. 

Then Betsy laughed, and so did I, and then we all laughed together and the 
bed rippled and rolled like a fat lady's belly. Stanley was the only one who 
wasn't laughing but that was only because he had one of my tits stuffed into 
his mouth. 

Adeline reached across Jack and put her arms around Betsy, hugging her close 
so that Jack was sandwiched between them. "Thank you, Betsy," she said. "I. 
. . I'm sorry I was so nasty to you." 

"Aw, shit, that's okay, Addy," Betsy said, returning the hug and patting 
Adeline on the back. "Like I told ya, I understand how it was." 

"You're sweet." 

"This is neat," Jack said. He'd had his cheeks jammed between two tits 
before but not the tits belonging to two different women. 

They looked down at him and laughed, and them, almost sobbing again, but 
this time with joy, Adeline said, "Oh, Jack! I've been such a bitch of a 
mother." 

"That's okay," Jack said. "Gosh, I wish somebody had told me you'd been 
comin' here all the time. But I guess I wouldn'a believed 'em if they had 
of. I mean ..." Then he looked up at her and, in a sheepish voice, said: 
"I-I'm sorry I broke that mirror, Mom." 

For almost a full minute they just sat there, looking into each other's 
eyes. Then Adeline smiled and said, "Fuck the mirror." 

Things got a little confusing after that, and besides, Betsy's kid was 
making it hard for me to concentrate on what was happening. I guess it was 
Betsy who turned the lights down low but I'm not sure. I remember seeing 
Betsy's dressing gown up near the ceiling just as Stanley rolled on top of 
me and stuck his prick in my cunt. It came floating down through the dim 
light like a sheer yellow parachute and then somebody dropped a tit in my 
face and I lost sight of the gown. 

For a while there it was quite a ride. Little Stanley was down between my 
legs fucking the shit out of me and my head was resting on somebody's belly 
and there were two pairs of tits, nipple to nipple, bouncing up and down 
above my face, and the big waterbed was leaping and gurgling like I don't 
know what. 

It was Jack's belly and the tits of course belonged to Adeline and Betsy. 
Adeline was sitting on Jack's hips and Betsy was sitting on his face. 

They were facing each other, holding onto each other's shoulders, laughing 
and grunting and rubbing their boobs together. Jack's cock was in his 
mother's cunt, his tongue was in Betsy's, and one of his hands was clutching 
at one of my tits. Stanley was clutching at my other one and with his other 
hand he kept reaching out to grab his mother's and Adeline's. When he 
started to cum he fell forward with his face buried between my boobs and his 
arms outstretched. They told me later he got a grip on his mama's cunt with 
one hand and Adeline's with the other, hooking his plump little thumbs into 
the top corner of each slit, which made both of them drool all over 
themselves. 

Then I felt Jack's belly tighten up under my head and heard him 
gurgle-grunting in Betsy's hairy crotch and it must have been about then 
that Aunt Maggie came storming into the room, but I didn't pay any attention 
at first because I was just starting to get my goodies. 

CHAPTER TEN 

Actually, that ought to be the end of this book, because since then 
everything has been just fine between Adeline and Jack. Adeline has become a 
warm, loving mother and that hard cold shell she wore for so long has 
dissolved completely. Jack doesn't destroy things any more-because all he 
needed was a little love, after all-and the only time he's gotten into 
trouble since then, as far as I know, was last week when a couple of irate 
parents came to Adeline's house claiming that Jack knocked up their 
fourteen-year-old daughter. But they couldn't prove it was Jack. "Shit," 
Jack told them, sitting on the arm of his mother's chair, "everybody on the 
block's been ballin' her." So Adeline told them to fuck off. 

But I'm going to tell you the rest of what happened that night because, for 
one thing, it was the beginning of Aunt Maggie's success here in West Palm 
Beach and, for another, it's just too good to leave out. 

If I tried to write down all the yelling and swearing Maggie did when she 
first came into the room I'd just be guessing because, like I said, I was 
way out in orgasm-land at the time-orgasm ocean, I should say, the way that 
waterbed was heaving. By the time I came out of it Maggie must have grasped 
the situation. I lifted Betsy's tit from my face and peeked out to see her 
slumped in an armchair across the room, staring blankly at us. Her 
expression was like what you would expect to see on the face of somebody 
whose doctor had just told them they had a month to live. I thought she was 
worried about the blackout plan getting fucked up and was afraid Adeline was 
going to sic the heat on us, so I started explaining what had happened, 
telling her it was okay now, everything was fine, nothing to worry about and 
all that. I was halfway through my explanation before I realized that she 
didn't give a shit about that at all. She just sat there staring at me with 
her eyes out of focus. I thought, What the fuck? and then I remembered part 
of what she'd been yelling when she came in-something about "an emergency." 
I said, "Maggie, what is it? What happened?" 

By now Adeline and Betsy had caught their breath and come out of their 
shuddering huddle. After struggling for a minute, Jack got his head out from 
under Betsy's ass and sat up, wiping the cunt juice from his face with the 
back of his hand. Stanley pulled his limp prick out of me and sat up, too. 
They all looked at Maggie. 

She shrugged, sighed, lifted her hands from the arms of the chair and let 
them fall back in a helpless gesture. Her big watermelon tits, which usually 
rode fairly high in spite of their weight, were sagging down to her waist. 
Her heavy legs were spread and I noticed that even her cunt looked sort of 
limp and hopeless. 

"The chance of a lifetime," she said, "And I blew it. Probably it woulda 
been all right if I'd just told her we couldn't swing it this time. 'We're 
booked up solid tonight, Mrs. M.,' I shoulda told her. 'How 'bout tomorrow? 
If we'd only known earlier-' " 

"Mrs. M.?!" I said. 

And to make a long story short, Maggie explained that a few minutes ago Mrs. 
M. had called back to say that she had changed her plans and had left Miami 
shortly after their little talk earlier that evening. Could Maggie have a 
room ready for her in half an hour? Half an hour?! It was all Maggie could 
do to keep her cool. What the hell was she going to do? Then she thought of 
Stanley and impulsively told Mrs. M. that that would be fine, everything 
would be ready for her in half an hour. Maggie hung up the phone, dashed out 
of the office and ran into George Hellow who, she said, went down like a 
bowling pin. 

George had been hanging around the lobby for about a half hour, trying to 
mooch a free piece off of Rose or Maggie. It was bad enough with Oscar 
blundering around conducting his electronic experiments at the hotel's 
peril, Maggie said, but with that horny old wino getting underfoot the 
atmosphere was already bordering on chaos even before Mrs. M. called. I 
asked her if George got hurt when she ran over him and she said, "I hope so. 
If that worthless sonofabitch is still there when I get back I'm gonna 
personally throw him out on his ass." 

Anyway, after trampling poor George, Maggie ran on upstairs to Betsy's room. 
She was going to tell Betsy that she was going to have to use Stanley and if 
Betsy didn't like it she could ram it. She didn't like to do it like that, 
but this was an emergency, and besides, Betsy had been fucking around too 
long, she should have had the kid broke in three days ago. 

But of course Betsy wasn't in her room. Neither was Stanley. Now what the 
fuck? In a panic, Maggie charged back out into the hall and spotted the 
bowling team outside my room. She asked them if they'd seen a skinny blonde 
with big tits and they said, yeah, her and some little kid in his skivvies 
went in that room down there and Maggie said, "What room?" and they pointed 
to it and Maggie said, "Oh, shit." 

You know the rest of it. 

Seeing how dejected Maggie looked, Adeline felt sorry for her. She said, 
"Jack could take care of her, I'll bet. I wouldn't mind if-" 

"Shit," Maggie said. "You checked his prick lately?" 

Everybody looked at Jack's prick, which was as limp as a sick minnow and 
about the same size. Stanley said, "Well, what about me? I could . . ." 

Then we all looked at Stanley's prick and of course it was in the same 
condition as Jack's. I said, "Look, give me five minutes with these kids 
and-" 

But Maggie cut me off: "How many times have you guys got your rocks off 
tonight?" 

"Uh-twice for me," Jack said. "Me, too," said Stanley. 

Maggie sighed. "Mrs. M. doesn't want any fucked out leftovers. She wants 
fresh, throbbin' kiddy prick, so hard-up that anything'll get it hot, even 
her. Thanks, kids, but it's no use. We're sunk." 

It sure looked that way, too. Mrs. Barfly and friend were apparently making 
a night of it with Rick and Teddy, and the Palm Beach bitch was still giving 
it hell with Mick and Stevie. If it hadn't been for this surprise visit from 
Mrs. M., things would have looked pretty good for Maggie, what with these 
two little studs suddenly added to the stable, making six kids altogether. 
But that didn't alleviate the immediate crisis. 

After a few minutes Maggie got up and shuffled out of the room and the rest 
of us stayed there, bobbing up and down on the waterbed like a bunch of 
seagulls, trying to think of some way we could help Aunt Maggie. Then Patty 
came in. She'd met Maggie in the hall and had gotten the word about Adeline 
and Jack. "Well, congratulations, you two," she said, going over to the bed 
and giving them both a kiss on the cheek. 

Adeline returned the kiss and said, "Thanks, Patty-you little sneak." 

Patty laughed. "I sure was gettin' tired of babysitting every night," she 
said. 

We all laughed but pretty soon the gloom settled over the room again, even 
though Patty's presence relieved it a little. She said she was helping Oscar 
get the TV stuff hooked up, but all she had to do was watch the monitor 
screen in Maggie's room and holler if anything happened. There was plenty of 
room for her on the big bed-her and several other people, in fact-so she 
took off her jeans and T-shirt and hopped aboard. 

Meanwhile, Maggie had returned to the lobby to wait for the dreaded arrival 
of Mrs. M., and the first thing she saw was old George Hellow following Rose 
behind the desk with his battered hat in one hand and his enormous cock in 
the other. It was about a foot long and looked like an ancient stick of 
driftwood that had been dipped in bacon fat. He was trying to jab Rose in 
the ass with the greasy thing. 

That did it. That was all Maggie needed-for Mrs. M. to come in and find that 
drunken scarecrow running around the lobby with his cock hanging out. Like a 
gigantic horned toad, she swelled up with rage and bore down on George from 
the rear like a Sherman tank. 

George was saying, "Hey, look, Rosie, how 'bout later on, huh? After I take 
my kid home and-" when Maggie grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and the 
seat of the pants and lifted him right off the floor. "Hey! What-?!" 

Rose spun around and saw George being carried off across the lobby, running 
in mid-air as though he were riding an invisible unicycle and frantically 
trying to stuff his cock back into his pants. Rose was a little alarmed 
because she'd never seen her sister in such a rage and she said, "Don't hurt 
him, Maggie! He might-" 

"Hurt him?" Maggie snarled, ramming George through the screen door like a 
battering ram. "I'm not gonna hurt him, I'm just gonna see if he can fly!" 

"Help! Help!" George yelled and Maggie was just about to launch him from the 
front porch when she saw a little ragamuffin street urchin sitting on the 
curb at the foot of the stairs. He was looking up at them with an alarmed 
look on his dirty little face. 

Maggie was already into the foreswing that would have sent George hurtling 
into space like a big bird and in fact had already let go of the seat of his 
baggy pants, but she held on to his shirt and coat collar and threw her 
weight backwards. 

George's feet flew up and he came to a jerking halt in mid-air. His bony ass 
bounced one on the top step and Maggie dragged him back onto the landing, 
hoisting him to his feet and thrusting her face into his. 

"After you take your what home?!" she whispered. 

"Wh-wh-what?" said George in a trembling voice, finally managing to get his 
prick back into his pants-because it was a lot easier to handle now than it 
had been before. 

"Didn't I hear you say somethin' in there about takin' a kid home or 
somethin'?" 

"Uh-y-yeah, m-my kid, G-Georgy, he-I-that's him down there, w-waitin' for 
me. I-I-I better be goin' now-!" 

"Why, George," Maggie said in a soothing, honey-coated voice, glancing 
flirtatiously over his shoulder at the little boy down on the sidewalk, 
"what's your hurry, honey? Come on back in here and let's have a little 
talk, huh?" 

"But-" 

Maggie jerked him back into the porch and shoved him up against the wall. 
"Now then," she said sweetly, straightening his ragged old coat, brushing 
him off and striking a seductive pose, her huge half-naked tits swelling up 
out of her plunging neckline, "what was it you wanted, George?" 

"Uh . . ." 

Maggie came right to the point, because there was no time to lose, and 
luckily George was all for it. Rose came out on the porch to listen and when 
George said, "Come t' think of it, when I was his age that's all I ever 
thought about." She said: "It still is, isn't it, George?" 

"Well . . . yeah," George said. "Mostly, anyway." 

Rose laughed and Maggie said, "Never mind the chit-chat! Rose, you go down 
and get the boy-and make it snappy! She'll be here any minute!" 

Maggie hustled George upstairs and Rose was right behind them with a very 
confused but excited George Jr. in tow. George Sr. about freaked out when 
Maggie shoved him into her room and he saw all us bare-assed women flaked 
out on that big waterbed, drifting up and down in the soft green light. 

"We got lucky, kids!" Maggie cried, fairly bubbling over with excitement. 
"Old George here's been holdin' out on us. He's got the cutest little 
twelve-year-old boy you ever saw!" 

"No shit?!" Betsy and I said at the same time, and then Adeline spotted 
Georgy himself as Rose rushed him past the open door. 

"Oh, isn't he adorable!" she cried, jumping up and running out into the 
hall, stark naked. 

Rose laughed. "Isn't he, though?" she said. "Sorry about that little trick 
we played on you, Adeline." 

"Shit," Adeline said and then she hugged Rose and gave her a big kiss. "I 
just wish you'd done it a long time ago. What's his name?" 

"Georgy." 

"Hi, there, Georgy." 

Georgy looked at Adeline's naked tits. Then he looked down at her bushy 
cunt. Then he swallowed and said, "Hi." 

"Has Mrs. M. arrived yet?" Adeline asked. 

Rose said, "No, thank God. We've gotta set up the Bridal Suite and get this 
boy cleaned up. Come on, Georgy, let's-" 

"Hey, can I do it?" Adeline asked eagerly. "Can I give him a bath?" 

"Sure," Rose said. "We can use all the help we can get. Let's go!" 

Adeline stuck her head back into the room, told Jack she'd be back in a few 
minutes and took off after Rose and Georgy. 

George was still standing there beside Maggie with his hat in his hands and 
his eyes bugging out of his head. He seemed especially turned on by Patty 
and me but he was giving Betsy's super-tits a lot of attention, too. Out of 
the corner of his mouth he said, "Hey, Maggie! Which one do I get?" 

"Take your pick, George," Maggie said. 

"Hot damn!" George said under his breath. 

"You girls be re-e-e-e-e-al nice to George, now," Maggie said to us, and we 
said we would but I could tell Betsy and Patty weren't too thrilled with the 
idea of balling this slimy old wino. 

Myself, though, I know better than to make flash judgments on a guy's 
appearance. I mean, I've got into it with dudes that would make George 
Hellow look like a Wall Street banker and some of them were damn fine in 
bed-or on the floor or in the alley or wherever it happened to be. So as 
soon as Maggie left I went over to George and started undressing him. He 
could have used a bath, too, but what the hell, we were all pretty slimy 
ourselves after all that fucking. 

Stanley had started playing with his mama's tits again and, since I had 
volunteered to take George on, she turned away from us and settled back to 
enjoy her son's caresses. Jack was playing with Patty, too, but as soon as I 
got George's pants off and Patty saw that foot-long battering ram between 
his scrawny legs she sat up and took notice. 

"Holy shit!" she said. "Bring it over here to the bed, Gina!" 

So I brought "it" over there and Patty reached up and took the gigantic cock 
in both hands, staring at it as if it were some rare species of fish or 
something. 

"What is it?" she asked incredulously. "That's m' cock, girlie," George said 
proudly. "Jesus," Patty said. "I thought it was your leg at first." 

George chuckled, cupped one of my tits in his big bony hand and shoved his 
cock toward Patty's lips. "It runs in the family," he said. 

CHAPTER ELEVEN 

"Good heavens!" Adeline exclaimed. 

She was sitting on the toilet seat in the bathroom of the Bridal Suite, 
undressing little Georgy while the tub was filling up. She had just pulled 
down his pants and now she was just sitting there staring at his pecker. 

You can't much blame her for getting shook. I didn't believe it either the 
first time I saw it. Even if she'd known it "ran in the family" she wouldn't 
have been any less startled. 

"Uh . . . what's the matter, lady?" Georgy asked. 

"Huh? Oh-nothing, honey. I just wasn't expecting a little fellow like you to 
have such a . . . How old are you, anyway?" 

"Twelve," said the boy. "How old are you?" 

Adeline laughed and finished taking his pants off. "Old enough that I don't 
have to tell. Have you ever had a piece of ass?" 

Georgy shook his head. 

"I'll bet you jack off a lot, though, don't you?" 

"Uh-huh." 

Adeline put her hands on his skinny little hips and gazed at his prick 
again. "What a waste," she muttered. 

This kid couldn't have weighed seventy-five pounds soaking wet. He has a 
cute pug-nosed face and a nice shaggy shock of straw-colored hair but he's 
too short for his age and at this time his hairless little body was all skin 
and bones. Standing up in front of me, he can barely suck my nipples without 
standing on his tiptoes, and I'm not all that tall. But the prick on him! 

Three inches soft might not sound like much, but on a kid that size it's 
something to see. When Adeline first saw it was a little better than 
half-hard, like about four and a quarter inches, curving out over his 
balls-which were nothing to sneeze at, either-the red-head peeking out of 
the mouth of its foreskin. It looked to her like a rather long breakfast 
sausage with the meat coming out of the skin at one end-but a lot more 
appetizing than that. Georgy has filled out a lot since he moved into the 
Sago, because the boozy old lady he stayed with when old George was out 
scrounging for wine and pussy didn't feed him worth a shit-a situation which 
Maggie and Rose corrected in grand style-but even now you can't help but do 
a double-take when he pulls that prick out. So it's no wonder that-seeing it 
for the first time when he was still skinny and all, alone with him there in 
the bathroom, with her lingering feeling of giddy euphoria over her tumble 
with Jack-no wonder that Adeline got sort of spacey and forgot all about 
Mrs. M. and all that. 

"There we are," she said. "Hop in." 

Georgy stepped into the tub and sat down. The head of his cock floated to 
the surface and Adeline's tits broke out in a sweat. 

"It's hot," he said. 

"So am I," Adeline said. 

"Huh?" 

"Nothing. Get your hair wet and I'll shampoo it for you." 

Adeline got down on her knees outside the tub and shampooed Georgy's hair. 
As he watched her round-bodied pendulous tits swing back and forth before 
his face his prick lengthened even more, got a little thicker, and in a few 
minutes was standing up out of the water like a periscope. With a full 
erection, believe it or not, the thing was just a shade under five and a 
half inches. Hell, I've been lucked silly by full-grown men with no more 
than that! Adeline hadn't even touched it yet but the sight of it alone had 
her cunt dripping down her legs. 

"You like my tits?" she said, almost panting already. 

Georgy blushed and grinned sheepishly. "Yeah," he giggled. 

Adeline leaned toward him, cupped one of her tits in her hand and help it up 
to his mouth. "Wanta suck?" 

Georgy looked at the tit, swallowed, and looked up into Adeline's face. "Can 
I?" he asked. 

For an answer Adeline poked her nipple into his mouth and slid her hand down 
his skinny little belly to his crotch. His balls felt neat under water. 
Solid and weightless. The taut scrotum was the size of a healthy walnut and 
had about the same surface texture. When she eased a finger down into the 
crack of his ass he gave a little start. 

"Ouch!" Adeline said. 

"Huh?" 

"You bit my nipple." 

"Oh. Sorry." 

Adeline giggled. "That's okay. Hey, why don't I get in there with you? This 
is kinda hard on the knees." 

Georgy said, "Okay," and Adeline climbed into the tub. 

She scrubbed his little body from head to foot and got all the grime off him 
and ended up sitting behind him, straddle-legged, with her cunt-hair 
brushing his ass and her tits poking him in the back. 

"Now, don't you feel better?" she said into his ear in a low throaty voice, 
pressing his hard little sausage between the palms of her soapy hands and 
sliding them up and down, skinning him back with her thumbs on the 
downstrokes. The thing was ramrod-stiff by now and Adeline just couldn't get 
over the size of it. 

"Yeah," Georgy said. He was getting a little breathless now himself. "Are 
you a whore?" 

"No," Adeline giggled, rubbing her swollen tits against his back. "Well. . . 
sort of, I guess." 

"You gonna jack me off?" 

"Of course not, you silly boy. I'm just washing your prick." 

"Oh." 

"You sure have a big one. My goodness." 

"Pop says it runs in the family." 

"Oh, really?" Adeline said, and she added under her breath: "How'd ya like 
to run it up my cunt?" 

"What?" 

"Nothing. Anyway, there are much better things to do with it than that." 

"Than what?" 

"Jack it off." 

"Oh," Georgy said, and after a minute: "Like what?" 

"Well," Adeline said with a mischievous smile, "like, for instance . . ." 

Meanwhile, Rose was dashing around the suite dusting everything and putting 
fresh sheets on the bed and so forth, and Aunt Maggie was pacing back and 
forth in front of the window in her office like a tiger in a cage. She was 
watching the street, her eyes peeled for Mrs. M.'s limousine. It was already 
about ten thirty-five and Mrs. M. said she'd be there at ten thirty. Maybe 
she'd decided not to make it after all. These goddamn rich broads, you never 
knew what they were going to do next. Upstairs, we were having a great time 
on Aunt Maggie's waterbed, and nobody knew what was going on in the bathroom 
of the Bridal Suite. But everybody was about to find out. 

We-that is, the crew of the waterbed-might never have noticed at all if it 
hadn't been for Oscar's little boy. It seems the barfly had finally passed 
out from exhaustion and Teddy had been able to slip out. In the hall he met 
his brother and said, "Hi, Roy. What'cha doin'?" 

"Helpin' Dad with the TV," Roy said with a tired sigh. 

"Think it'll work this time?" Teddy asked. "Shit, no," Roy said. "But we 
gotta humor him." 

"Yeah. Where's Patty?" 

"She's in Aunt Maggie's room watchin' the monitor in there." 

But of course Patty wasn't watching the monitor at all. If she had been, 
there'd have had to be something wrong with her. I mean, what healthy young 
chick is going to sit around watching a blank TV screen with a cock like 
George's in the room? 

Except that it wasn't blank any more. 

We had sort of a daisy chain going on the bed. George was flat on his back, 
Patty was on her hands and knees between his legs and I was sitting on his 
face. Not "sitting" exactly, I was on my knees, facing Patty, and he was 
eating my cunt while Patty and I took turns sucking his gigantic cock which 
stood up between us like a bazooka shell. Stanley was lying face-up behind 
Patty with his head between her thighs, slurping noisily in her pussy, and 
his mama was on all-fours, facing the other way, her ass up against Patty's, 
sucking Stanley's prick and balls and tonguing his asshole. From time to 
time Stanley would switch to Betsy's cunt, and sometimes he would eat her 
and Patty at the same time, with long swipes of his little tongue, from the 
upper corner of Betsy's slit to the upper corner of Patty's as if they were 
one big cunt with a clit at each end and two holes in the middle, if you can 
dig that. Jack was in it, too-or at least he was trying to get in it. He was 
on his knees behind me, pawing my tits and trying to stick his prick up my 
asshole-which wasn't too easy with George down there eating my cunt. 
George's forehead kept bashing Jack in the nuts, and besides, Jack hadn't 
quite got his hard-on back yet and his prick was still a little too limp for 
asshole fucking. 

Anyway, that's what we were doing when Teddy walked in and said, "Hey, 
look!" 

I looked at him out of the comer of my eye and saw him standing there with 
his mouth open, pointing at the wall behind me. I slid my mouth off George's 
cock and looked over my shoulder in the direction he was pointing. 

"Well, I'll be goddamned!" I said, and then the others looked, too, and said 
similar words of surprise. 

The big TV screen was on, in full, brilliant color, clear as a bell. Even 
the sound was on. And this time it wasn't George McGovern. 

The view was from directly above a bathtub and in the bathtub was a 
full-breasted broad-assed woman and a small skinny shaggy-headed boy with a 
prick the size of a hot dog. The woman was sitting cross-legged, supporting 
the little boy's ass with her hands. He had his knees hooked over her 
shoulders and she was licking his prick and balls with catlike strokes of 
her drooling tongue. The kid's face was all but submerged in the soapy water 
and he was hanging onto the sides of the tub for dear life. You could hear 
the sloshing of the water and even the sound of their breathing. 

As the woman unhooked the boy's legs from her shoulders and laid him out in 
the tub, Betsy said, "Say, isn't that-?" and then Jack said: "Hey! That's my 
mom!" 

"By God, it is!" I said, and by God it was. 

As Adeline squatted over little Georgy's hips, dangling her tits in his face 
and reaching between her legs, Patty said, "I don't think she's supposed to 
be doing that, is she?" 

Somebody else started to say something but just then a loud shriek rang out 
from somewhere downstairs. To explain the shriek, I'll have to back up a 
minute or two to the moment the monitor came on in Aunt Maggie's office. As 
chance would have it, this moment coincided exactly with the moment Mrs. 
M.'s limousine pulled up in front of the hotel. 

"She's here!" Maggie cried. "She's-!" And then she heard the sound of 
sloshing water behind her. 

The first thing that sprang into Maggie's head was that Oscar, having 
destroyed her office once by fire, had decided to do it by water this time, 
thus reversing the Biblical sequence. Even if this had been the case, she 
could hardly have been less alarmed than she was when she spun around and 
saw Adeline in that tub with little Georgy's prick in her mouth. 

"Holy shit!" she gasped and lunged toward the office door. 

Just at that moment the door flew open and Oscar came leaping in with a 
shit-eating grin of triumphant and ecstatic delight spread across his face 
from ear to ear. That is, he would have come leaping in if it hadn't been 
for Maggie. 

"It works!" he cried. "I did it! I actually- Hey, wha-!" 

Then he yelled and that was the shriek we heard upstairs. But the shriek 
didn't help him any. Maggie ran right over him like a freight train. 

When Mrs. M. and her limousine driver walked in a minute later the lobby 
looked deserted. Then, as he was setting Mrs. M.'s suitcase down, the driver 
spotted Oscar stretched out on the floor behind the desk with the heel print 
of a high-heeled shoe in the middle of his forehead. He pointed this out to 
Mrs. M. 

"My goodness!" she said. "Is he alive?" 

The driver checked and said, "I guess he is, ma'am. His heart's beatin'." 

"Thank heavens," said Mrs. M., but she didn't seem very concerned about the 
body. "Well, that will be all, Henry." 

"You sure you want me to leave ya by yourself in this place, Mrs. M?" the 
driver asked. 

"Ill be quite all right, Henry," said Mrs. M. "You run along now, and I'll 
see you in the morning." 

Henry shrugged, said, "Whatever you say, ma'am," and left. 

Beverly saw this part of it from upstairs. Hearing Oscar's scream and the 
following crash, she had got out from under her man and run to the door as 
quick as she could to see what had happened. She'd heard that Mrs. M. was 
coming tonight and she figured that was her down there but she didn't know 
what to do about it. She might have figured something out if it hadn't been 
for the bowling team that was still waiting outside my room. (I'd forgotten 
all about them.) By that time they were so horny they were about to start 
fucking each other, and when they saw Beverly standing there naked in her 
doorway they didn't wait for an invitation. "It was like a stampede," 
Beverly said later. "I mean, I've been gang-banged before, but holy shit! 
They musta thought that guy in my bed was a chick 'cause they raped him, 
too." These Friday night bowlers are something else. 

So anyway, I don't know what Mrs. M. did in the lobby after that-probably 
just stood there at the desk ringing the bell. Meanwhile, Aunt Maggie had 
charged into the Bridal Suite like a wounded rhino, yelling, "Stop her! Stop 
her!" 

"Stop who?" Rose cried. Luckily she was faster than Oscar and side-stepped 
in time to keep from being trampled. 

Maggie stormed into the bathroom just as Adeline was guiding Georgy's cock 
into her cunt. 

"Stop that, you idiot!" she roared, her big boobs tumbling out of her dress 
as she bent over the tub and grabbed Georgy under the arms. "What the fuck 
are you tryin' to do, ruin me?" 

We saw this part of it on the TV. SHLOOP!-the skinny kid was jerked out from 
between Adeline's legs like a Tampax. We also saw the startled look on 
Adeline's face as she realized what she'd almost done. 

"Oh, dear!" she said, putting her hand to her cheek. "I-I didn't mean to-" 

"You didn't mean to!" Maggie bellowed, almost blowing out the speakers. " 
'Course you didn't! And you just can't figure out how in the world this 
boy's prick could have got into your cunt, right?" 

"But-" 

"But! But! Just get your butt the hell outta here, willya?" 

"Yes, yes!" Adeline said, stumbling out of the tub. 

And with the bewildered little boy clutched to her naked tits, Aunt Maggie 
wheeled around and collided with Rose, who was standing in the doorway, 
knocking her breath out. It knocked Georgy's breath out, too, and . . . 

But enough of this comedy. By now, in spite of the seriousness of the 
situation, we were laughing so hard that the waterbed was rocking more 
violently than when we'd been doing our daisy chain. There was something 
about seeing it on television that probably made it seem more hilarious than 
it was. It was like an X-rated Three Stooges movie. 

Anyway, Maggie finally came rushing down the stairs, trying to stuff her 
wildly plunging tits back into her soaking wet dress, and there was Mrs. M., 
waiting patiently at the desk. 

Making a desperate attempt to compose herself, Maggie stepped over the body 
on the floor as though it were some permanent part of the furnishings and 
said, "Ah-Mrs. M?" 

"Yes," said the round-faced woman, smiling politely. She was short and 
rather heavy-set, about sixty or older, plainly dressed-just the opposite of 
the dykelike broad from Palm Beach. She looked for all the world like your 
grandmother who bakes apple pies for you when you go to visit her at 
Christmas time. "And you're Mrs. McDonald?" 

"Miss McDonald," Maggie said. "But why don't you just call me Maggie." 

"Oh, very well," said Mrs. M. with a grandmotherly smile, her little eyes 
twinkling over the tops of her spectacles. "Ah ... is everything all right, 
Maggie?" 

"Oh, yes, everything's-uh-just fine," Maggie said. "Ha, ha, ha! . . . 
Uh,"-she cleared her throat and leaned across the desk toward the woman-"I 
hope you'll excuse this, uh, confusion, Mrs. M. You see, I wanted everything 
to be, shall we say, just right for you, and on such short notice it wasn't 
easy to . . . well, what I mean is, Mrs. M., a virgin's not easy to come by 
these days and-" 

"A virgin!?" 

For a moment there Maggie had a horrible sinking feeling in her stomach, as 
if she were in an elevator that had suddenly snapped its cable. Had she 
gotten the whole thing wrong? Was this just a kindly old lady who really did 
enjoy taking care of children? Was it all just one gigantic 
misunderstanding? 

Maggie turned white as a sheet and for a moment that seemed to last an hour 
the two women just stood there staring at each other with their mouths open. 

Then Mrs. M. said, "Do you mean to say the boy you've fixed me up with is a 
virgin?!" 

Maggie breathed a sigh of indescribable relief and said, "Yes, ma'am-but of 
course if you'd rather have a more experienced-" 

"Oh, my goodness, no!" Mrs. M. whispered excitedly, gripping Maggie's 
trembling hand and pressing it warmly. "It's just that I wasn't expecting 
such a treat! Why, you wouldn't believe how long it's been since I've copped 
a cherry!" And then she giggled mischievously at herself for using such 
unladylike language: "Hee, hee, hee, hee!" 

Maggie joined in the giggling, then picked up Mrs. M.'s suitcases and led 
her upstairs, so that when Oscar finally came to he found himself alone in 
the lobby with the headache of his life. 

CHAPTER TWELVE 

Adeline came back, looking a little sheepish, and I decided to go out and 
see if I could do something to help. But as I was about to go out I spotted 
Aunt Maggie and Mrs. M. coming up the hall and I ducked back into the room. 
Things seemed to be more or less under control, and there was nothing on TV 
now except a bathtub full of dirty water and that wasn't very exciting, so 
we got our daisy chain hooked up again and had just picked up where we left 
off when Aunt Maggie came running in on her tiptoes, rubbing her hands 
together and grinning like an alligator shitting tangerines. 

"We did it! We did it!" she squealed. 

When I was a kid I saw some Walt Disney movie with elephants in it. Some of 
the elephants wore toe shoes and tutus and danced like ballerinas. Do you 
remember that movie? Well, that's what Aunt Maggie looks like when she runs 
on her tiptoes-like one of those elephant ballerinas. 

Adeline pulled her tongue out of Teddy's asshole and started apologizing 
again but Aunt Maggie just said, "Forget it, forget it," and pirouetted over 
to a painting of a naked lady surrounded by little naked cherubs with 
hard-ons. The painting was hinged on the wall like a door and Maggie swung 
it back and started punching buttons on the control panel behind it. 

A number of scenes in different rooms flashed across the TV screen in rapid 
succession. It was like flipping hurriedly through a dirty magazine. First 
we saw my kid Rick, poor thing, lying flat on his back, limp as a rag, while 
the barfly's friend squatted on his face, her head thrown back and her 
jellyfish tits flopping furiously up and down, frigging herself on his nose. 

Then we saw my other boy and Rose's Stevie with the rich bitch from Palm 
Beach, but all you could see was a tangle of naked limbs on the bed. Then 
there was a shot of Beverly's room and the speakers erupted in a blast of 
grunts and groans. It sounded like a hog pen at slop time. You couldn't even 
see Beverly underneath all those bare-assed bowlers. Somebody on the bed was 
yelling, "Help! Help!" and Betsy said, "Hey, look at those guys on the bed. 
It looks like-" It was just a brief glimpse and the light in Bev's room was 
dim, but it did look like some guy was fucking another guy in the ass. 

There were some other shots-one of Goldy's room and one of Mary's, both of 
them humping merrily away, plying their trade; one of the inside of Aunt 
Maggie's office with the office monitor showing the inside of Aunt Maggie's 
office with the office monitor showing the inside of Aunt Maggie's office 
and so on to infinity; one of Oscar sitting on the floor in the lobby with 
his hands on his head and his eyes closed (at which time Rose said, "What's 
the matter with Oscar?" and Maggie said, "Damned if I know," and pushed 
another button); and finally, one of a funny-looking little man standing in 
the midst of a surly-looking crowd. The little man was wearing thick glasses 
and saying, "Madame Chairman, Ohio passes." 

"Ohio passes," said Madame Chairman with a sigh. 

"Give us five more minutes." 

"Shit!" Maggie said. "These buttons are all fucked up. You punch the Bridal 
Suite and you get 106. You punch 106 and you get 115. You punch 115 and you 
get the office. Punch the office and you get the fucking Convention. Jesus 
Christ." 

"Well, at least it's workin'," Teddy said, defending his father. "Sort of." 

Rose said, "Maggie, what was that scream I heard while I was in the Bridal 
Suite?" 

"What scream?" Maggie said absently, and then her exuberance bubbled over 
again and she started clapping her hands with glee. "By God, we got it made 
now, girls and boys! Hey, you know what she said? Guess what she said!" 

"What who said?" somebody asked. 

"Mrs. M., Mrs. M! Who the hell do ya think? She said to me, 'Maggie,' she 
said, 'I surely appreciate this and I'm going to give you a little something 
extra for all the trouble you've gone to.' I about shit my pants! She said, 
'Now, don't argue, I insist.' Hooo-wee! Do you know what 'A little 
something' means to a broad like that? We're on the way, kids! We're fuckin' 
on the way!" 

And in a spontaneous expression of her delight she gave the control panel a 
tremendous slap with her open hand, hitting several buttons at once, and. 
the interior of the Bridal Suite bedroom appeared at last on the screen. 

"Well, I'll be goddamned," Maggie said, backing away from the control panel. 
"Don't anybody touch it, now." 

Mrs. M., wearing an old fashioned nightgown, a quilted housecoat and her 
spectacles, was sitting in an armchair beside the bed and little Georgy, 
wearing a pair of pajamas that fit him like a sack, was sitting on her lap. 
She was reading to him from a little paperback book: " '. .. and forcing it 
up into her as far as it would go. Those two wonderful little cocks jabbing 
into her with lightning-fast strokes, one in her cunt, the other in her ass, 
almost drove Lorna mad with pleasure. Her big, heavy tits, still slick with 
little boy juice, swung about wildly until Toby reached up and caught them 
in his chubby hands, and that almost pushed her over the top. She thought 
surely she would be the first to cum, but she wasn't. 

" 'After helping Toby find the hole, Lorna had reached out to take Jerry's' 
"-Mrs. M. wet her finger and turned the page-" 'prick in her left hand and 
Willy's in her right. She had begun immediately to jack their taut little 
foreskins up and down, but had been careful not to go too fast, because her 
timing would have to be good if she were going to get three mouthfuls of cum 
out of this. But when Johnny and Toby had launched into their trip-hammer 
assault of her two fun-holes Mrs. M. looked up at Georgy over the tops of 
her spectacles and giggled. "Two fun-holes," she repeated. "Hee, hee, hee! 
This writer certainly had a way with words, doesn't she, Georgy?" 

"A lady wrote that?" Georgy said. 

"Oh, yes," said Mrs. M., showing Georgy the cover of the little yellow book. 
"She's one of my favorite authors. Gina Green is her name." 

Everybody turned around and looked at me with their mouths hanging open. I 
said, "I'll be damned. I thought that sounded familiar." 

Aunt Maggie almost freaked out altogether over that. She started jumping up 
and down and her tits bounced out of her dress again. "This cinches it!" she 
cried. "This cinches it! Wait'll she finds out we got the famous Gina Green 
livin' right here in the old Sago Hotel! Well have her eatin' out of our 
hands! Gina, baby!" She threw a bear hug on me and damn near squeezed the 
piss out of me. 

Meanwhile, Mrs. M. read on (this was from my first book, Mama Balls Little 
Boys, and I found out later she had all my books): " '... felt his first 
shot squirt through her palm, Lorna let out a sort of breathless growl and 
made a dive for his crotch, his second round spurting into her open mouth 
from a distance of about six inches before her drooling lips closed over the 
discharging member.' " 

"Dig..." Mrs. M. chuckled. "I have trouble with these sounds the people make 
in Gina Green's books. Would you like to try?" And she pointed out the place 
with her stubby forefinger. 

Georgy squinted at the page for a minute and then started to read in a 
breathless but flat voice, without expression: " 'Dig, ihg, ihg. Ga, ga, 
ga.' " 

"That was pretty good," said Mrs. M. (Actually it was lousy. It's supposed 
to be, like, "Ihg, ihg, ihg! Ga'.-ga'.-ga!-" Neither one of them could read 
worth a shit if you ask me.) 

While Maggie's angel continued to read, her hand creeping along Georgy's 
thigh toward his crotch, a little bit at a time, Oscar came staggering into 
our room. 

"Oscar!" Rose cried. "What happened to you?!" 

"Oh, nothin' much," Oscar said, nodding toward Maggie and then squinting 
with pain. "She just stepped on my head, that's all." 

Aunt Maggie gave him a puzzled look and said, "Who stepped on your head?" 

"You did," Oscar said. "You and about fifteen football players, it feels 
like. O-o-o-h-h-h, my head." 

"Oscar, what the fuck are you talkin' about?" Maggie said. Oscar stared at 
her for a minute and then went into a graphic description of how he was 
coming in to tell her he had the TV hooked up when she came at him like a 
mad bull, stiff-armed him and ran him down. 

Maggie scratched one of her tits and stared into space for a minute. Then 
she said, "Oh, yeah, now I remember. Aw, shit, I'm sorry, honey. I was in 
sort of a hurry at the time and-" 

"I believe it," Oscar said. 

"Aw, come on, sugar, lemme make it up to ya. Hey, ya did it, didn't ya? Look 
at that picture! Listen to that sound! You're a genius! Shit, I knew ya 
could do it all the time. Come on down here on the floor and get outta those 
clothes, lover. Aunt Maggie's gonna fix you ri-i-i-i-ight up!-that is, if 
your cunt don't mind." 

Rose laughed and said, "Go right ahead, Sis. I'm sort of tied up right now 
anyway." Eager to check out this new lady, young Jack had jerked Rose's 
skirt up and now he had both hands in her panties, one in the seat and the 
other in the crotch. That's what Rose meant about being tied up. 

Aunt Maggie yanked her dress off, released her little half-cup cheesecloth 
bra, and dressed only in her high-heels, black mesh nylons and garter belt, 
her buxom body jiggling like a gigantic mound of milk custard, bore down on 
Oscar as if to engulf him like an amoeba. 

"Go easy, Mag," Oscar said. "I feel like I been run over by a truck." 

By now Mrs. M. was coming to the end of a chapter: " '.. . That burst of 
semen surging into her rectum was too much for Lorna, and with a wildcat 
shriek, she reached her climax, her whole body wracked with fire, little 
hands groping all over her, thick foam gushing from her cunt, flooding 
Toby's straining crotch-and then he began to cum too and her orgasm started 
all over again and her cunt erupted like a volcano and the moon and the lake 
and the trees all twisted and lurched in a whirling tangle of naked 
flesh-tits, arms, buttocks, groping hands, spurting pricks, a sea of virgin 
cum-and she cried, 'Oh, Billy! Billy! Billy!'" 

Mrs. M. closed the book. Her hand was now in Georgy's crotch. "Billy was 
Lorna's little boy, you see," she said. (She made that up. Actually, Billy 
was Lorna's little brother-in case anybody gives a fuck.) 

"Oh," said Georgy. 

"Yes. You see, she'd always wanted to take him to bed but never had. Ill bet 
your mother never read you any bedtime stories like that one, did she?" 

"I ain't got a mother," Georgy said. "I live with my old man." 

"Oh, you poor thing! Well, I'll be your mother tonight-and other nights, 
too, perhaps. I had a little boy like you once, you know." 

"Oh, yeah?" 

Mrs. M. smiled and nodded in her grandmotherly way. "But now, when I say I 
'had' him"-giggle, giggle-"I don't mean that I. . . that I. . ." She looked 
off to one side as if she had heard some strange sound, her fingers moving 
gingerly along the bulge in the front of Georgy's pajama bottoms. She seemed 
to get sort of flustered. "Well, what I mean is . . . You see, I was a bit 
like the lady in this book. My son and I. . . That is, I always wanted to 
love him a way that society doesn't... ah . . . doesn't..." 

"You okay, ma'am?" Georgy asked. 

It was perfectly obvious what was happening. Mrs. M. had been all prepared 
with this little speech about how she'd always wanted to fuck her kid but 
never had because she thought that wasn't a nice thing to do but now she had 
seen the light which was fine except that her son was grown up now and 
married and all and she was left alone, poor thing, and so forth and so on, 
all by way of softening Georgy up and excusing herself for what she was 
about to do. Probably she used that approach with all virgins. But when she 
felt the unlikely shape of that torpedo between Georgy's legs the whole 
thing must have gone right out of her head. 

"Good heavens, child!" she exclaimed, unable to contain herself any longer. 
"What is this?!" 

"You mean what you're feelin' of?" Georgy asked. 

Mrs. M. just stared down at the shape, which was now sticking straight up 
inside the boy's pajamas like a tent pole. 

"That's my prick," Georgy said. 

She looked at him suspiciously over her spectacles. "You wouldn't play 
tricks on an old lady, would you, Georgy?" 

"No, ma'am," Georgy said. "Wanta see it?" 

"Heavens, yes!" Mrs. M. Gasped, her glasses nearly falling off her nose. 

Georgy jumped up, jerked down his pajamas and stood there proudly with his 
five and a half inch cock slanting up from his scrawny belly, pointing right 
at the startled old lady's face like a stiff one-eyed snake. 

"It runs in the family," he said. 

"Why, bless your little hard-er, heart! Goodness gracious, I don't believe 
I've ever seen ..." She cleared her throat and tried to do one of her 
grandma smiles but this time it didn't come off too well. "Shall we, um, go 
to bed now, Georgy?" 

"Okay," Georgy said. "Want me to take these off?" 

"Yes, yes!" said Mrs. M., a little too eagerly. 

So Georgy finished taking off the baggy pajamas and leaped merrily on to the 
bed-bounce, bounce-landing on his back, his stiff prick wagging to and fro 
like a metronome, bouncing off his balls at one end of the swing and his 
belly at the other and finally coming to a standing halt, snapping to 
attention like a Marine on the drill field. 

Noticeably shaken, Mrs. M. clumsily removed her quilted housecoat and her 
bedroom slippers. Then she turned the light down low, almost knocking the 
lamp off the bedside table in the process, took off her glasses and stood 
there for a minute, gazing down at that quivering prick. Then she put her 
glasses back on. 

Mrs. M. drew her old-fashioned nightie up around her broad hips and sat down 
on the bed beside the naked boy and patted his leg just the way you would 
expect an old lady to pat the leg of a little boy, except that even on TV, 
with the light dimmed, you could almost see her hand trembling. The old girl 
had just about perfected her technique over the years, but the sight of 
Georgy's improbable rod had given her such a jolt that she was having a hell 
of a time keeping her act together, you could tell that. 

She said, "May I. . . May I touch it?" 

And Georgy said, "Sure." 

Mrs. M.'s hand slid across his bony hip and closed slowly around that rigid 
little pole. With the heel of her hand resting flat down on the root, the 
round-nosed head and a half an inch of the neck stuck up above the webbing 
of her thumb, and that's no shit. 

"My goodness," she muttered. And then, staring down at the tiling in her 
hand-she looked like a slightly demented scientist holding a vial of 
nitroglycerine-she made one last attempt to salvage what was left of her 
script: "You see, ah, Georgy, my little boy and I, ah, we were never very 
close, and . . . and ..." 

I'm not going to try to write out the sound that Mrs. M. made. It wasn't 
anything simple like "ihg" or "ga." All I can tell you is that it was 
something like the sound a half-starved female gorilla with laryngitis might 
make if you stuck a banana in her cage. 

And all of a sudden she had Georgy's cock in her mouth, one hand thrust 
under his skinny little butt and the other pressed down on his scrawny 
chest, and her grandmotherly gray head was bobbing wildly above his crotch. 

This startled the hell out of Georgy, who was ready but wasn't expecting a 
surprise attack, but he couldn't have been much more startled than we were. 
I mean, there was something about seeing a nice old lady like Mrs. M. 
sucking a cock like a lust-crazed fifteen-year-old nymphomaniac that just. . 
. But first I'd better tell you about the latest arrivals to our little 
"theater." 

First Roy came in, saying, "I knew you could do it, Dad," and he jumped onto 
the waterbed with us and started slow-fucking his girlfriend dog style while 
she sucked George's bazooka and watched the TV screen. (Everybody in the 
room was playing with each other-some had their tongues or cocks or both in 
a cunt or a mouth or an asshole and there wasn't a cunt in the room that 
didn't have something in it, even if it was just a finger-but it was a 
leisurely sort of play and none of us were doing anything that would keep us 
from watching the screen.) 

Oscar had replied to his son's congratulations with a muffled grunt because 
one of Aunt Maggie's tits was in his mouth at the time. She had started by 
squatting over him-as only Aunt Maggie can do, thanks to her training as a 
strip dancer-with her hands behind her head, and rubbed her shaggy crotch on 
his cock until it got hard, swinging her huge jugs from side to side, and 
then-her hands still behind her head, slipped her fat cunt over it and 
fucked him like that for a few minutes, bouncing up and down like one of 
those Russian dancers except she didn't kick her feet out in front of her 
like they do. Then she had turned around, squatted over his face, scrubbing 
his lips with her juicy cunt, bent over and sucked his slimy cock for a 
while. Then she turned around and squatted on him like she'd done the first 
time except this time she guided his cock into her asshole and, once it was 
in, lowered her boobs in his face, and that was when Roy came in. Oscar was 
just getting his rocks off when Stevie and my kid Mick came in. 

They'd teamed up and managed to subdue the Palm Beach bitch, at least 
temporarily. Somebody asked them how they did it and Mick said, "We cheated 
a little." Stevie said, "Yeah. I fucked her with a wax banana while Mickie 
gave it to her in the ass with a Coke bottle." 

"She passed out after that," Mick concluded. 

They flopped down on the floor near Maggie and Oscar and had just started to 
ask questions about the kid and old lady on the TV when my other boy, Rick, 
staggered in, worn out from his first night's work but proud of himself for 
having outlasted the barfly's friend, even though, as he said, "I had to 
finish her off with my nose." 

Right after that two of the younger whores, Mary and Goldy, came to see why 
nobody was watching the desk. Mary, who's nineteen and built like a brick 
shithouse, stuck her head in and said, "Hey, what's goin' on in here? How 
come nobody's . . . Hey, groovy! The TV's workin'. Hey, Goldy, the TV's 
workin'." 

"No shit?" Goldy said and they both came in and made their way through the 
naked bodies to the bed, which must have been about to burst by then. I 
guess that's when George grabbed Mary but it was kind of confusing in there 
with all those people. 

Altogether, there was Adeline and Jack; Rose and her two kids, Stevie and 
Patty; Betsy and little Stanley; Rick and Mick; Oscar's sons, Teddy and Roy: 
Oscar himself; George Hellow; the whores, Mary and Goldy; Aunt Maggie; and 
me. It's a good thing Beverly was tied up with that bowling team because I 
don't think we could have squeezed her in. That was-what?-six teen people 
packed in there. I mean, it's a big room but it's not an arena. Luckily, 
though, we were all good friends. 

Anyhow, as I started to say, there was something about seeing Mrs. M. giving 
little Georgy a head-job that really got to us. It's hard to believe that in 
our fucked-out condition there could have been a stiff prick or clitoris in 
the room-unless it would be George's or Roy's-but I'm telling you, it was 
like instant rejuvenation. 

The old girl hadn't given him a dozen strokes-and they were fast strokes, 
too-before I had a little prick in my asshole and another one wrapped around 
my tongue. It was Rick's prick, I could tell by the feel of it, but I don't 
know whose asshole I had my tongue in. It was some chick-Goldy or maybe 
Patty-but I never found out for sure. 

Everybody was fucking or sucking somebody else, that's about all I can say. 
I did see old George when he jumped Mary-that is, I saw his cock, but you 
couldn't mistake that cock for anybody else's. It was silhouetted in front 
of the TV screen for a minute, just before it buried itself to the balls in 
Mary's twat, and it was just then that his little boy shot his wad. 

"Ah!" Georgy cried. "Ah, ah, ah!" And you could see old Grandma M. sucking 
for all she was worth. 

When the kid finally went limp, gasping for air, she-and this was just too 
much-she reared up, clutched her boobs with both hands, threw her head back 
and started gargling with his cum, as though it were a mouthwash. Yeah, she 
actually gargled it! Loud, too. Garglegarglegargle! I never saw anything 
like it. 

Then somebody said, "Whoops!" and some kid shot off in my face-got me right 
in the eye. I think what happened was that Rose was sucking off her son and 
trying to watch the TV out of the corner of her eye, and when Mrs. M. 
started gargling she probably went a little too high on an upstroke and let 
Stevie's prick flip out of her mouth just as he got his gun. That would 
explain why she said, "Whoops!'--if it was her that said it. Anyway, I 
missed the next few minutes of the show and when I finally got the cum out 
of my eye little Georgy was pulling off Granny's nightie. 

She was on top of him and he had it up to her armpits. There was some 
floundering around and together they finally managed to drag it off over her 
head. Maybe it was just the smell of cunt and cock and the general orgiastic 
atmosphere there in Aunt Maggie's crowded room, but that got me even hotter 
than I already was. 

Now, don't get the wrong idea. Mrs. M. will never see sixty again and her 
bod's not all that exciting. Her big boobs have stretch marks on them and 
they're going slack on her; her arms and thighs are a little flabby and her 
waistline has gotten out of control; she's got blue veins showing in her 
legs and her big ass has dents in it; her wiry bush has gray hairs in it and 
her cuntlips are sort of saggy. But-I don't know-for an old lady she's not 
that bad. I mean, not gross or anything, and seeing her naked up against 
that skinny little virgin . . . Well, I mean, how many naked old ladies do 
you see running around in the first place? You don't have to go very far 
these days to see a naked chick, skinny-dipping or what have you-but 
bare-assed old ladies? Forget it. And seeing one in bed with a naked little 
boy is even more unusual. I think maybe that's what got me so turned on-the 
novelty of it. If you think I'm weird, fuck you. 

To everybody's surprise, it didn't take Georgy very long at all to raise 
another hard-on. Mrs. M. apparently turned him on, too. (She must have been 
something else thirty years ago.) She made a big thing out of putting him 
in. We had a pretty good view of this because the hidden camera was at the 
head of the bed, about half-way up the wall, and that was the direction she 
was facing. She was on her knees, straddling him, and she took his amazing 
prick in both hands, holding it with her thumbs and fingertips, and bent 
over where she could watch as she pushed the slim head back and forth along 
her dripping gash, using it to spread the limp curls out of the way, and 
then stirring herself with it, just inside her outer lips, and drooling on 
Georgy's belly as she saw her cunt juice dribbling down his cock and onto 
his balls. 

"Wanta fuck Mama, Georgy?" she panted, the split running down her chin and 
her big prunelike nipples quivering like tuning forks. 

"Uh-huh!" Georgy gasped. 

And then she started sliding down his pole like a fireman in slow-motion. 

"O-o-o-o-h-h-h-h!" she moaned, watching it go in. 

I started cumming about then, and I wasn't the only one, either. So I saw 
the fuck that followed through an orgasmic blur, so to speak, which made 
Mrs. M.'s tits seem to flop even more violently than they possibly could 
have as she bounced frantically up and down on little Georgy's hips. I 
started to come down and heard Mrs. M. grunting and growling and I could 
tell by the frothy goo that was gushing from her cunt that she was getting 
off-but then I lost track of the action again because one of those 
afterburner orgasms cut loose on me. 

My first orgasm-or the first part of my orgasm or whatever you want to call 
it-was caused by Rick's prick in my asshole. But he had his hand in my cunt, 
too-or somebody did-and the second part started when he grabbed my clit and 
squeezed it. I felt like I was going to come apart, and right in the middle 
of it some soft little belly-it turned out to be Stanley's-flattened against 
my face and he pumped a load of hot cum down my throat. I didn't even know 
how his prick got into my mouth. He says I grabbed him, jerking his prick 
out of his mother's cunt, and put it there-in my mouth-but I don't remember 
any of that. 

When I was finally able to look at the TV again, I got one brief flash of 
Mrs. M. sprawled out on top of Georgy, heaving and wheezing like a beached 
whale, and then there was a lady standing at a podium, reading into a 
microphone: "...and that a woman should have legal jurisdiction over the 
sexual and physical functions of her own body. ..." 

Everybody swears they never touched the control panel, but I think 
somebody's ass must have bumped up against it in the heat of an orgasm or 
something. 

Well-"b-b-be, b-b-be, b-b--that's all folks!"-or however Porky Pig does it 
as he disappears inside that circle. 


End
