Eating With Mother
by Joyce Morrison
(SC-141)


FOREWORD 

An article in Playboy magazine recently presented an interesting suggestion 
for a change in the structure of our society. Current high divorce rates, 
the article said, prove that the existing and traditional marriage customs 
are not practical. As it is, two young people fall in love, get married, and 
are expected to successfully surmount the problems of setting up a 
household, having children, advancing in their jobs, climbing in society, 
and all the petty details of living life without the guiding hand of a 
parent to steer them. In addition to conquering these problems of every day 
living, and with very little education, they are expected to thoroughly 
please themselves and their spouses in bed, even though the sex drives of 
the eighteen-year-old male and female are at different stages of 
development. The fact that the eighteen-year-old male is at his sexual peak 
while his young wife's sex drive is still developing does not make things 
any easier for the young married couple in today's structure and certainly 
adds to the divorce rate. The ideal marital arrangement for a happy and 
productive society, said the article, would be the following: 

At the age of fifteen, the young man in this ideal society takes a bride. 
More correctly, she takes him, for at the age of fifteen he is required to 
marry a divorced woman of thirty. The woman is educated in the ways of the 
world and her sex drive is at its peak, just as his is or will soon be. She 
teaches him the ways of day-to-day business, how to run a household, and 
sees to it that he furthers his formal education to the best of his ability. 
And throughout his developing years she keeps him well satisfied with her 
body, showing him all the arts of love which she has already learned. After 
fifteen years of this educational and happy marriage, the couple parts 
company friends and each of them sets off on a new marriage. 

Now the man is thirty years old, well established in business, uninhibited 
in sex. He follows the custom of this new society and takes for himself a 
bride of fifteen years. The process he has already experienced repeats 
itself. Now it is he who is the teacher, however, instructing his teenaged 
bride in the ways of the world, running a household, handling money, raising 
children, enjoying sex. All these things come easy to him now, thanks to the 
marital education he received from his first wife. The sexual portion of 
this marriage comes particularly easy and enjoyable, for now that first mad 
flush of excitement is gone from the discovery of sex and he has his head 
about him when he beds down with his inexperienced, usually frightened young 
bride. And as before, after fifteen years of marriage, the couple parts 
company friends. 

The woman is now thirty years of age, worldly and experienced, financially 
secure, with her child-bearing and educational years behind her. Now it is 
her turn to take a teenaged husband, educating him and enjoying his virile 
youth. The man from whom she has just separated is forty-five years old, 
totally mature, set in his ways, looking back on two marriages and many 
happy and productive years. He takes for his third and final wife a woman of 
his same age, a similar veteran of two marriages which have spanned a period 
of thirty years. 

The divorce rate from such a societal arrangement would not really diminish 
but, the writer states, the divorces would be entirely compatible ones 
lacking the tragedy of divorce that is so familiar now. With this future 
arrangement of our lives, the Playboy author states, the individual would be 
less bored and much better equipped to handle life, and our entire structure 
of society would greatly benefit. 

All this is hypothetical, of course, but it has the ring of logic to it. 
This story-Eating With Mother-closely examines one facet of such a future 
existence in the world of today. Here Miss Morrison examines the sexual 
problems facing the older-woman/younger-man relationship and the 
older-man/younger-woman's problems. Each of the individuals has his own 
adjustment problems and his own temptations, and to compound these, Miss 
Morrison has made the involved couples blood relations. Much of her 
commentary on the educational and disciplinary problems occurring in the 
Utopian society we have above described is implied, but her details of the 
sexual lives of the protagonists are quite explicit, giving the story a 
great deal of lasting impact. We humbly suggest that it be read with an eye 
toward living in a better, calmer, saner world. 

-THE PUBLISHERS 

 CHAPTER ONE 

Betty McCall's blue eyes glowered darkly over the rim of her fourth can of 
beer as she watched her fifteen-year-old son Glen enter the bathroom of the 
house. Normally she loved her only child almost to distraction, but on that 
warm September afternoon she felt like taking his pants down, turning him 
across her dimpled knees, and spanking him as if he was a child. Mot that 
he'd done anything wrong. Far from it, he'd gone out of his way to please 
her during the past two worrisome days. Ever since Betty's husband Paul had 
gone traipsing off somewhere with snippy little Debbie, his 
seventeen-year-old daughter by a previous marriage, Glen had been a perfect 
angel around the house. And Betty had silently fumed and drank beer. Glen 
didn't understand why Paul and Debbie had gone away so suddenly, and neither 
did Betty for certain, but Betty had a damned good idea. 

She'd seen, the way Paul had leered at his long-lost daughter. She'd seen 
him pat her on the ass and she'd seen the girl smile up at him and lean 
closer in response. But it hadn't really occurred to her that father and 
daughter would become lovers and run off together until after the deed was 
done. Now while she fumed and sweated, Paul and Debbie were fucking their 
heads off in some cheap but air-conditioned motel. He had probably taught 
her to suck his cock by now, if that wasn't one of her accomplishments 
already. Betty sat there sipping wondering if Paul ate his daughter's pussy 
and did sixty-nine with her as he had with Betty when they were first 
married. Though he had lost the taste for Betty's pussy, the bastard was 
probably slurping up that teenage cunt at that very moment, and loving it. 
He'd picked up young girls before when he was out on one of his sex binges 
and later confessed he'd kissed their pussies a few times, and even though 
she'd forgiven him in the end, that didn't bring him any closer to doing the 
thing she loved so much, going down on her. 

Betty covered her bare, damp pussy with her hand and scratched and pushed at 
its itch. It didn't add to her peace of mind. At that very moment Paul was 
shoving his big dick into his candy-assed daughter's little cunt. Betty was 
as sure as she could be of that. Or they were rolling around on a rumpled 
bed, his thirty-five-year-old face between her nymphet legs, her childish 
mouth wrapped around his grizzled old cock. He probably had her half drunk 
and dancing naked for him, twisting and turning her damnably slim body in 
front of the air-conditioner while he lay on the bed, beer can in one hand, 
cock in the other. They probably picked up another hippy girl like Debbie 
and were having a three-way sex orgy, high on marijuana and beer, all three 
of them sucking and fucking each other indiscriminately. 

And there she was, stuck in the house with her very irritating son. He was a 
wonderful boy in every way but one, really, and that was that he looked too 
much like his father. 

Every time Betty looked at him, she couldn't help but speculate on where 
Paul and Debbie were and what they were doing. She had her suspicions about 
what her husband and his errant daughter were up to. Paul was such an 
oversexed bastard and Debbie was such an obvious little tramp that it was 
only logical to picture them together in some sleazy motel. That would be 
incest, of course, but incest wasn't exactly unheard of. Some biblical 
character had been screwed by both his daughters, but with all that beer in 
her Betty couldn't remember exactly who it had been. All she knew for sure 
was that she'd been very nice to Debbie following her surprise appearance 
and that her goodness to the girl had been rewarded by the abandonment of 
her husband. She was sure of that, and she was sure she had to pee, but she 
could only do something about the latter. 

Glen was cooling off in the shower. Betty could hear the water running. 
There was only one bathroom in the little stucco house, and she'd have time 
to slip in there and sit down on the toilet before he came out of the shower 
stall. It was stifling hot in the little house, and the breeze she created 
by walking from the living room to the bathroom felt good on her hot flesh. 
She didn't have much on. All Betty was wearing was a short cotton wrapper 
that was loosely tied in the front. Her very large breasts held the top of 
it open almost to her nipples and her striding legs pushed back its hem to 
expose her blonde-haired pussy as she walked, but of course there was no one 
around to see her in such immodest attire. No one but her son, and he'd be 
in the shower for another ten or fifteen minutes. 

Betty could see his nude figure hazily through the frosted glass of the 
shower door. He looked even more like his father then, and she was hard 
pressed to keep the irritation out of her voice as she announced, "It's only 
me. I'll just be a minute." 

Betty untied her wrapper and squatted on the toilet seat. The rush of her 
water felt exceedingly good. Glen could probably hear its clatter in the 
bowl over the sounds of the water rushing down over his naked body. They 
were mother and son, nearly naked and quite close together-but somewhere in 
the city there was a father and his daughter, even more naked and 
considerably closer together. 

She'd get even with him. What she ought to do was call the police and have 
them both sent to jail. It would serve them right. She was going to divorce 
Paul, that was for sure. She ought to get a gun and shoot him. She ought to 
have a few more drinks at a bar, pick up a stranger and go to his bed and 
have some wild sex with him so she could relieve her nagging tensions and 
think straight again, and that was exactly what she was going to do. 

Betty blotted her pussy dry and stood up and flushed the toilet. Drinking 
all that beer in this kind of heat had left her a little dizzy. She leaned 
against the sink while her head cleared and saw in the mirror that she had 
some work to do on herself if she wanted to pick up a man with any sort of 
class. Most of the wave had come out of her long blonde hair. She hadn't a 
bit of make-up on, and her face looked feverish and her eyes looked dull. Of 
course, with the rest of her physical assets just as they were, she could 
certainly manage a pick up in no time at all, even though it had been years 
since she'd gone out in search of sex. Her tits alone were enough to make a 
man leave his wife. She had a pair of 42-D's, and while they were 
considerably bigger than they'd been when she was Debbie's age, they were 
every bit as firm and upstanding as those little pimples on her 
step-daughter's skinny chest. 

Betty's waist had thickened a bit during her thirty-three years, but it 
still measured twenty-six inches and it was smooth and entirely free of 
stretch marks. Her hips were where she'd picked up some weight. She measured 
thirty-eight inches there, and a few of those inches were in flab. Was that 
what had sexually attracted Paul to his daughter, her boyish hips and her 
little bee-bee butt? Betty swept back the sides of her wrapper and ran her 
hands over her hips and buttocks in a critical appraisal of herself. She was 
too soft, too full. 

Some men liked women with big bottoms. Some men couldn't take their eyes off 
the woman strolling down the street with their stretch pants just about to 
rip because of the wideness of their hips and the overfull roundness of 
their buttocks. Some overweight wives could drive their husbands crazy by 
casually flaunting themselves with nothing but a pair of gossamer thin 
panties on their fat asses. Or by walking around the house naked, with their 
flabby old bottoms jiggling, and then compounding matters by bending over in 
full view of their husbands to pick up an imaginary thread from the floor. 
Betty had teased Paul in that fashion in the past, not that she was all that 
fat down there. She still had a very nice shape to her globular buttocks and 
her hips were not too padded with softness to be called fat. At five feet 
five and a hundred and thirty pounds, she was a lot of woman, and that very 
feminine bottom that her hands were exploring was infinitely more attractive 
than Debbie McCall's skinny rump. 

Right in the middle of her self evaluation Betty became aware that the 
shower had been turned off. She realized this in the same instant she looked 
over her shoulder in the mirror and saw the wide brown eye of her son 
staring at her through the narrow opening between the shower door and its 
jamb. Little sneak, she wanted to say, you're as bad as your father. But 
just in time she recalled that it was she who'd intruded on his privacy. 
Still there was irritation in her voice as she said, "Go get me a cold can 
of beer, Glen." 

His wet arm snaked out, fumbled around, and got a towel. Betty inwardly 
smiled and felt a tug at her heartstrings, for only then did she realize 
that her little boy was becoming a man, and as such he was seeing her 
familiar old body in a different way. She let the wrapper fall closed, 
covering most of her nipples. There was a lot of cover there, for her 
aureoles and nipples were in full proportion to her breasts. Oddly enough, 
her nipples were tingling and getting a little stiff. Paul's absence had 
made her horny, and Glen's eyes on her were adding to it. She ought to fuck 
Glen; that would serve Paul right. It would be the easiest thing in the 
world to do, and then Paul would know how she felt with him shacked up with 
his daughter. She mused on this further as Glen stepped gingerly out of the 
shower stall, dark hair plastered down on his head, slim and hairless body 
quite naked except for the towel he kept clutched about his waist. 

Hi, Paul. Nice to see you again, she would say when he returned. I've been 
fucking our son while you've been fucking your daughter. That makes us a 
real together-type family, doesn't it, dear? 

Betty's laughter tinkled as she thought about Paul's reaction to such a 
greeting. Betty's big tits jiggled their way out of the blue wrapper as she 
brushed back her slightly damp hair. Her nipples were up all the way now. 
The tickling of the thin cotton on them, the humid atmosphere in the 
bathroom, looking forward to sex with a stranger, all these things had her 
nice and hot and ready for the forgetfulness one finds in having a good 
time. All these things, plus the big brown eyes of her innocent son, looking 
sidelong at her as he had left the room to do her bidding. 

His eyes were still wide when he returned with the cold can of beer in his 
hand. She took it from him without thanks and drank from it. She faced him 
squarely as she did so. She tilted her head back and let the cold beer 
trickle down her throat. She drank with one fist resting on her bare hip, 
pushing back the little cotton wrapper so that her son had a clear view of 
almost all of her naked beauty. She took this attitude defiantly, silently 
daring him to leave her for his childish games and playmates. And as 
expected, he stood right where he was, clutching the towel to his flat belly 
and frankly gaping at her. 

"Want some?" she said, and offered him the can. "A little beer hits the spot 
on a hot day like this, and I know you sneak a can out of the fridge and 
drink it now and then." 

"Uh ... okay, Mom. Thanks," he said, and his hand was trembling as he took 
the can from her. And there was fear and there was longing in his immature 
eyes as his gaze kept flicking over her exposed nudity while he drank. 

She looked him over, too, and she liked what she saw. He was a beautiful 
boy, right on the verge of becoming a handsome young man. He had his 
father's full head of thick brown hair and he had Betty's blue eyes. He was 
just Betty's height, but soon he'd be taller than his father was. His body 
was smooth but muscular. There wasn't a hair on his chest, and that made his 
two little brown nipples stand out with more prominence. She noticed that 
the little tan buds were erect, just like her much bigger ones were. She 
also noticed that there appeared to be a bulge that was surprisingly long 
under the hand that was clutching the towel to his loins. 

"I'm going out for a while," she said and turned to face the mirror. "Stay 
and talk to me while I get ready." 

"Sure, Mom. Where're you going?" 

"Just out. Looking for a little fun and excitement, I guess. I'm not about 
to sit around here waiting for your father and his hippie daughter to come 
waltzing in with some big fib about where they've been and what they've been 
doing." 

"Where are they and what have they been doing, Mom?" 

She halted in the application of her lipstick and regarded him as patiently 
as she could. "I think you have a pretty good idea what they're doing. 
You're not that young," she said. And then she was struck by the sudden 
realization that he was considerably older than she'd thought he was, or at 
least considerably more mature. That long bulge under the towel proved that. 
Her eyes were glowering at him again when she said, "Glen, did you do any 
fooling around with that little bitch while she was here? Did you?" she 
demanded, and grasped him very tightly by the arm. 

"Anything to do with her?" he asked, quite frightened now. "What do you 
mean? No. Heck, I hardly even talked to her, Mom." 

"You know exactly what I mean, and you didn't have to talk with her to do 
what I think you were doing with her! Did you?!? Did you two do anything 
while she was here?!?" she asked, her voice rising, both hands on him now, 
gripping his arms tightly and shaking him hard. 

"I don't know what you mean," he moaned, and a tear started down his cheek. 

"You know exactly what I mean! Did you sleep with that bitch? Did you?!? Did 
you?!?" 

"No, Mom, no! I never did! The only woman I ever slept with in my life was 
you!" 

She drew back her hand to slap him, outraged at his suggestion that they'd 
had sex together. And then all at once she realized that indeed he had slept 
with her, many many times. She'd fallen asleep and so had he when he'd been 
nursing at her breast in the rocking chair in the middle of the night. 
They'd slept in each other's arms when he'd had the colic and the flu. Even 
when he'd been past the baby stage she'd frequently slipped into bed with 
him during his afternoon nap, slumbering peacefully with her only son, 
waking refreshed and happy and in a loving, giving mood. 

"I'm sorry, baby. I'm sorry," she said, anger all gone, filled with 
contrition and love for him. She put her arms about his neck and his arms 
slipped naturally about her waist. She kissed the tears from his cheeks and 
said, "You're such a good boy and I go accusing you of terrible things. I 
know you'd never have any kind of sexual intercourse with your half-sister. 
You didn't even like her, did you. She's so skinny, not like a real woman at 
all. You didn't even kiss her, did you. Did you, Glen? Did you kiss Debbie 
even once? Hm-m-m-m?" 

"No, Mom. Not even once," he said, and drew back to let her see the truth in 
his eyes. 

She smiled and said, "Did you think about it?" 

His eyes grew furtive in an instant. She wasn't being fair to him at all. Of 
course he'd thought about it, but thoughts are not deeds. After all, she'd 
thought that very day about having sex with her son. How could she keep from 
thinking about it with a nice stiff prick nestled up against the soft bulge 
of her belly, with nothing but a damp towel between him and her. She had 
asked him a very unfair question, and before he could lie to her in 
response, she quickly said, "It's all right to think about things like that. 
We all do. But pick a better girl than her to neck and have sexual 
intercourse with. You are a virgin, aren't you? Glen, don't look so shocked. 
You and I can talk about such things. Have you ever ... screwed a girl?" 

He blushed scarlet, beautiful, and he shook his head, no. 

As embarrassed as he was, the situation was far too delightful for Betty to 
quit. "Ever played with a girl's little titties?" 

"No!" he said, and tried to draw away. 

"You stay right here, young man," she said, tightening her soft grip about 
his neck. "It's time we had a talk about sex. It's almost time you started 
doing something about sex and we'd better talk about it first. Lord knows, 
your father won't give you any advice, if he ever comes home again. Right 
now, I don't care if he does or not. I'd be happy enough just living with 
you," she said, hugging him softly and affectionately, feeling some of the 
tension go out of his body. "Ever touched a girl's pussy, Glen?" 

He tensed, relaxed again, and shook his head miserably. "Mom, I don't want 
to talk about it now." 

"No time like the present." She gave him another big drink of beer, and she 
took some herself. She placed her son's arms about her waist again, and she 
put her arms about his neck. He was still blushing, shy, embarrassed, and 
the hard bulge of his prick still pressed hotly against Betty's tummy. "Have 
you ever even necked with a girl, honey?" 

"I kissed a couple. At parties. Never really necked." 

"Tsk. I'm surprised, as handsome a boy as you are. Have you ever seen a 
naked woman?" 

"Pictures of 'em. Playboy and magazines like that. And...." 

"And?" 

"And my friend Allen has some. Women in ... underwear and things. You know?" 

She nodded. "And high heels? And those boots like Mother used to wear? And 
black silk stockings? Yes, I know about those kind of pictures. I've seen 
them myself. They excite men. Men and boys, they get all hot and bothered 
when they look at pictures like that. It makes them play with themselves, 
and that's not good. Do you play with yourself, Glen?" she asked, and 
pressed her tummy more warmly against his hard prick, just to be sure he 
knew what she was talking about. 

He swallowed hard and lowered his head, and by not answering, he didn't lie 
to her. 

She kissed his cheek, and she patted his arm fondly as she slid her hand up 
and down it. She was determined to persist now, for the odd sort of pleasure 
she was deriving from this close conversation far outweighed any discomfort 
her son was feeling from his embarrassment. She gave him a fond little slap 
on his towel-covered bottom and she moved aside just enough to place her 
hand directly on the hot, hard length of his pecker. He gasped when her 
fingers pressed against his erection and she ignored that and said, "Glen, 
do you ever get so worked up you play with your prickie? Do you ever take it 
in your fist and. ... Maybe both fists? It's certainly more than a handful. 
Do you ever take your prick in hand and play with it and stroke it and milk 
it till it feels so good you just can't stand it, and then let all that good 
rich cream squirt out all over the place? Do you, Glen? Do you ever do that 
after you've looked at those sexy old pictures your friend Allen has? Do 
you?" 

"Yes, darn it!" he said, close to tears again, but now they were tears of 
outraged embarrassment. 

"And do you two ever do it together?" 

"Heck, no! Well ... we did it once together, but I didn't like it." 

"I might be raising a bashful little innocent for a son, but at least I'm 
not raising a homosexual. Oh, it's not so bad to play with yourself, 
darling. At least until you start playing with girls, women. That'll be 
soon. Soon you'll have the real thing, instead of those pictures. Or maybe 
in addition to them," she said, laughing, and making him smile bashfully 
with her. 

"Glen?" 

"Yes?" 

What Betty had thought of was completely alien to her, but her whole world 
had turned topsy-turvy since the unexpected arrival of her step-daughter and 
so now she gave the subject at hand no more thought. She went right on 
smiling her lovely red smile and she said, "Would you like Mother to teach 
you how to neck? Remember how I taught you how to do the polka so you could 
go to those barn dances? Now I think I should at least teach you how to 
neck, so you'll know to get along with girls." She gave him a 
butterfly-light kiss on the lips, backed off and said, "Think it over, 
honey. I'd be glad to do it for you. It's not common knowledge, but a lot of 
mothers teach their sons about sex, and I don't mean just by talking about 
it. They let their sons look and they let them touch," she said, and took 
two steps away from him, drew aside the thin halves of her wrapper and 
artfully posed with her hands on her widely sweeping hips, one knee bent 
before the other and those gorgeous big jugs of hers stuck out at him. 

"Lots of mothers like me teach their sons just about all there is to know 
about sex, honey. Would you like Mother to teach you about necking and 
things? Think about it, darling, while you fetch us a couple more cold 
beers. Mother will be waiting for you on the couch in the living room...." 

 CHAPTER TWO 

Glen walked to the kitchen in a daze. He wasn't even sure of where he was 
until the cold air billowing out of the refrigerator chilled his feet. The 
cold air didn't affect his hard pecker at all. It would have taken a blast 
from the South Pole to do that. His prick was so hot it was burning. He 
hoped his mother hadn't noticed its stiffness. He wanted with all his might 
to neck with her as she had suggested, but he was afraid that if she knew 
how terribly worked up he was, she wouldn't go through with it. 

She was bound to find out. Two minutes on the couch with her and his prick 
would push the flimsy loose towel aside and erupt all over both of them. She 
had already felt how hard it was when she'd asked him about his jacking off, 
however, and that had not seemed to upset her. She was used to his father, a 
grown man, and for all young Glen knew, grown men had hard-ons all the time. 
That was logical. After all, lately his prick was hard more than it was 
soft, and it stood to reason that things would continue to get worse in that 
department as he continued to grow up. Yes, that was very logical, 
especially in his current condition. 

He took out two very cold cans of beer and held them against his stiff 
prick. He could barely feel their iciness through the towel and he knew 
darned well he'd boil the beer before the beer would cool off his prick even 
a little bit. It wouldn't work, he decided. As much as he yearned to learn a 
few things from the beautiful woman who happened to be his mother, it would 
be entirely too embarrassing if all of a sudden he began to writhe and gasp 
and shoot jism all over her beautiful pure body. He would drink a beer with 
her and talk a little about sex from across the room, and then take a cold 
shower and jack off again. 

Glen closed the refrigerator and opened the beers. He straightened his 
shoulders and held the two cans in front of his stiffie and went to face his 
mother for a nice little talk. She was sitting on the couch with one arm 
lazily outstretched on the back of it. 

She was smiling in warm, calm invitation to him. Her little housecoat was 
still open and he could see most of her tits, and those tits had to be the 
biggest, most beautiful in the whole world because they were far better and 
appreciably bigger than any of the ones he'd seen on the models in Al's 
pictures-and those models were absolute knockouts. She had her legs curled 
up under her. Her legs were just a little heavy, but they had a shape that 
was absolutely terrific, and they looked just as smooth and polished as the 
wood of the coffee table in front of the couch. Even she appreciated their 
smoothness, for her hand was idly roving up and down and all around over her 
thigh and her calf as she sat there smiling at him, waiting for him. 

She had turned on the fan and faced it to blow against the couch, and its 
breeze caused her golden hair to softly stir about her face. It was the most 
beautiful face in all the world, and he would be the biggest sort of fool in 
the world to pass up an opportunity to kiss it, to really really kiss it. 
Glen tried to keep the shyness out of his grin as he padded forward on his 
bare feet and eased himself onto the couch beside his mother, just under the 
soft white curve of her inviting arm. 

"Here's your beer, Mom," he said. 

"And here's your first lesson in sex," she said, and that arm on the back of 
the couch slipped down to his shoulders and pulled him gently closer. Her 
other hand went to his cheek and turned his head to face her. Her beautiful 
red lips loomed ever larger and then touched his, softly at first and then 
with growing ardor and warmth. He felt his whole body go rigid, but he 
couldn't help it. She pulled him closer, kissed him just a little harder so 
that her soft, soft lips mashed out and completely covered his. He felt her 
tongue tickle over his trembling lips and for a moment he felt he was going 
to shoot right then and there, but then the delicious taste of that tongue 
sliding into his mouth made him softly moan through the kiss and lean in her 
direction. And this caused the beer to spill out from one of the cans and 
chill his hair trigger prick into at least a temporary state of calmness 
again. 

She laughed and took a can of beer from his hand, drank deeply from it and 
set it down on the coffee table. Up close, she was even more beautiful. They 
laughed together when beer dribbled over his chin as he tried to drink, and 
he felt another lovely tingle in his balls and prick and even in his asshole 
when she leaned forward and licked the spillage off his chin. 

"The tongue," she told him. "That's about the most important sex organ of 
all. First it lets you talk to each other, communicate, tell each other what 
you like to do and have done to you. Second it feels good and it tastes 
good," she said, and leaned forward to kiss him again. 

Glen managed to set his beer can down before she did it this time. He was 
even more excited than before, but now he wasn't concerned about coming. He 
wasn't concerned about anything at all in the world except that marvelous 
soft mouth on his, all wet and warm, and that deliciously sweet tongue that 
was teaching his tongue how to do a dance far more exhilarating than the 
polka. 

He didn't care what happened any more. He put his arms all around his 
beautiful, wonderful, understanding mother and hugged her just as hard as 
she was hugging him as they kissed and kissed and kissed. Their lips were 
always touching, either lightly or very intimately, as she showed him how to 
use his hands when necking. She didn't have to say a word, and Glen was very 
glad of that, for this was a kiss that should never end. She ruffled his 
hair with her hand, ran her fingers through it and caressed the nape of his 
neck. He followed suit. Her hair was thick, and as smooth as silk. The nape 
of her neck was very smooth, and he could feel soft muscles under her skin. 
The heat of the day and the thick veil of her hair had made her neck quite 
warm and a little damp from perspiration. Glen somehow liked the feel of 
that. He even liked the smell of her sweat, all mixed up with the scent of 
her lipstick and her perfume, and subtly spiced with a musky scent that he 
couldn't quite identify but that he liked a lot. He sucked on her tongue and 
caressed her face and hair and neck. He mimicked her in every way he could 
except one, and he hoped he was pleasing her one tenth as much as she was 
pleasing him. That one way was impossible for him to mimic. There was no way 
in the world he could push and squirm a big soft tit against her chest to 
thrill her as she was thrilling him. 

"You learn fast and you kiss nice," she told him, cupping his cheek in her 
hand, placing a series of warm little kisses all around his open mouth, 
smiling her encouragement through her eyes. "You're a little too eager and a 
little too rough at times, but that's very understandable and very 
forgivable. Practice, that's what it takes. Practice kissing Mother gently 
now, Son." 

He let his mouth hang a little open just as hers was, and he was able to 
refrain from plunging his tongue between her lovely lips when her tongue 
came out to tickle around his mouth. They both had their tongues out then 
and hers was lazily twisting about his while he sat there, rigid once again, 
trying not to be eager and rough with this very special woman. 

"French kissing," she murmured. "You like?" 

Before he could answer, she was sucking on the very tip of his tongue, very 
gently, but making him feel it right on down to his balls. He nodded his 
head in complete agreement with her, and her lips curled into the sweetest 
sort of smile around his tongue-tip. 

"See what I mean about tongues?" she murmured, and now she buried her lovely 
face in his throat and Frenched him there. 

"Oh, Jeezus," he muttered, and clutched her soft shoulder hard for a moment, 
fearful again that he was going to cum and thus end this total ecstasy. His 
blood was racing. Her softly sucking mouth, her constantly swirling tongue 
had his heart thumping loudly. He didn't know if he was going to cum or 
faint first, but then at the last moment she gave him respite by backing off 
with that deeply penetrating kiss and smiling into his eyes. 

She ran her hand through his hair. She kissed his lips lightly. He saw her 
through a pink glow, utterly beautiful, radiant, adorable. One luscious big 
breast swung out as she reached for the nearest beer. She held it to his 
lips and further revived him, drank herself and set it down, an amazing 
woman to look so calmly beautiful while he was in such a turmoil of 
excitement. 

"So now you know a little about using tongues for kissing and tasting and 
making each other feel good. Now let's use them for talking, for 
communicating. Do you think I'm pretty?" 

"Beautiful! You're just beautiful, Mom!" he blurted. 

She laughed softly and kissed him. "You're off to a good start. Women always 
like to hear that. But you've got to be more specific. Where am I beautiful, 
Glen? How?" 

"Your face! Your hair! Your eyes and lips and nose and chin and ... and 
tongue and every thing about you is just beautiful!" 

"You're sweet," she said, and rewarded her pupil with another soft kiss. 
"But is that all there is about me, honey?" 

Her fingers were gently plucking at his hard little nipple, making him feel 
very funny down there. He was all confused and didn't know what to say, 
where to begin. Breathing very deeply, feeling very drunk, he looked from 
the pale tapered fingers toying with his dark rigid nipple to that billowing 
loveliness exposed by his mother's open housecoat and said, "You've got the 
most beautiful boo-breasts in the whole wide world, Mom." 

She looked down at herself and smiled. She drew her housecoat wide open and 
she put her lovely hands under her even lovelier breasts and lifted them, as 
if presenting them to him. He gazed on, wilting, glassy-eyed, as she fondled 
them freely and said, "Is that what you call them? Boobs?" 

"Breasts," he murmured. "You've got beautiful breasts." 

"Call them anything you like, darling, as long as you don't call them ugly. 
They're not too big for you?" 

"No. Oh, no." 

"I used to call them my boobies," she said, still playing with them, still 
pampering her hands by letting them feel of that creamy full roundness and 
the utterly fascinating roughness of the big, big ends of them. "But you can 
call them anything you like, honey. Boobies, breasts, jugs, tits, anything 
at all that pleases you, darling. Would you like to play with Mother's tits, 
Glen? From the way you're looking at them, I'd say you would. Ask me nice, 
Glennie, and I bet I'd let you feel me up." 

"Can I ... play with your tits, Mom?" 

"Of course, darling," she said, and she took his two quaking hands and 
placed them firmly against her marvelous warm softness. 

"Oh, Jeezus," he muttered, for his mother's tits were even softer and warmer 
than he'd imagined they'd be when he thought about them and jacked himself 
off. There was a firmness about them that made them so very full and yet so 
upright in their beauty, but he could feel nothing firm under the velvety 
flesh that his hot little hands were roving over. 

"Feel nice, Glennie?" she asked, smoothing her hand over his leg. 

"Uh-huh," he mumbled, as with ever new amazement he felt the softness of her 
very hard nipples. 

There were tiny hairs there, just a few of them, the most delicate hairs in 
the world. The flesh was a lovely, lovely pink, all covered with the most 
fascinating kind of goose bumps, centered around that gigantic big goose 
bump that really was quite hard now that he could bring himself to close his 
fingers on it. 

Suddenly he pinched it, quite hard. He didn't know what came over him, he 
just had to do it. He closed his fingers on it sharply and his mother gasped 
and said, "OH!" 

And suddenly her arms were tight about him and she was breathing hotly in 
his ear and pushing her big tits into his groping hands and almost moaning 
as she spoke. "Pinch 'em again, both of them. You didn't hurt me. OH! OH, 
GOD! Darling, darling, hug me and kiss me and play with my tits. Oh, yes! 
God, I love you so. Baby, baby, it's all right. Nothing to be afraid of. 
We're not doing anything wrong. Kiss me, lover. Kiss me hard and play with 
my tits and make me feel so fucking good I can't stand it!" 

Her use of that four-letter word shocked him. And so did her kiss and so did 
the strength of her arms around him. She was trembling all over now and her 
body was jerking and thrusting itself at him. He was shocked and frightened, 
but he sucked on her mouth as voraciously as she was sucking on his and he 
pinched and played with her hard nipples as she mashed herself against him 
and moaned in a sort of delirium and all but crawled into his lap. Her arms 
were breaking his neck, and somehow he just loved it. He bit her tongue and 
pinched her nipples even harder, and it somehow thrilled him to the core 
when his beautiful mother whimpered through the deep French kiss and 
convulsive little spasms began to ripple through her body. 

She whipped her mouth away from his just long enough to pant, "Arms around 
me and hug me as hard as you can. Hard as you can, lover!" 

He hugged her till his bones were cracking. She hugged him back just as 
hard. Amazingly, his hands didn't miss her tits on leaving them for now the 
hot ripples going through her body made the flesh of her back every bit as 
exciting as that of her tits. 

She fell back on the couch, arms locked tightly about him, mouth mashing and 
tonguing against his all the way. Then he was lying right on top of her, 
hugging her body and kissing her mouth, grinding his chest against her tits 
as she thrust them up against him. His hips were between her legs, and her 
hips were jerking up against his hard cock, all sweaty and wet and nearly 
bursting with good feelings. He was going to cum at any minute. There was no 
way he could help it. He couldn't warn her, couldn't get out of this 
marvelous embrace, couldn't begin to keep his hot young body under any sort 
of control in miraculous circumstances like this. But of course, his mother 
knew what to do. 

"The towel," she panted, pushing him away and pulling him to her at the same 
time. "Get that damned towel out of the way and get your prick in me now, 
now! Fuck me, Glen. Oh, God, fuck me!" 

The damp rumpled towel was whipped out from between their thrusting loins 
and now he could feel her bare flesh, all furry and hot, with his prick. He 
was gasping and panting and cumming already, or at least it felt like it. 

"Get it in, damnit! Quickly!" she cried, and with amazing strength she 
pushed him away, and with equally amazing dexterity, she took his bursting 
cock in her hand and jammed its spewing end in the hottest, slickest, most 
wonderful place he'd ever dreamed of in his life. 

"Oh, Mom!" he gasped, and his hips jerked forward to stick his prick all the 
way in her, all the fucking way. 

He had no rhythm at all, and she nimbly helped him find it with her legs. 
They were as powerful as they were soft, and once firmly wrapped around his 
spasmodically thrusting hips, they helped him jam his spewing, shooting, 
gushing prick down deep inside her with fantastically pleasing results. 

It was heaven, absolute heaven. Even in his most ardent masturbations he'd 
never felt anything approaching this. He felt he was going to die of the 
intensity of this orgasm and still he kept fucking her because this was a 
wonderful way to die. There she was right under him, the Woman he loved most 
in the world, gasping and close to swooning, without a doubt feeling every 
bit as good as he was feeling. Luscious big tits rolling around on her chest 
as he heaved and bucked and stuck his prick in her. Gorgeous face all 
flushed with love and sex, mouth waiting to be kissed while they surged and 
came together, endlessly, endlessly. 

Glen was still coming when he kissed that lovely hot mouth. They sucked on 
each other's tongues, and now it somehow calmed him instead of exciting him. 
He clung to her voluptuous body, hugging her and sucking on her mouth and 
the wildness went out of his penetrating thrusts and he just glided along 
through heaven quite effortlessly while the pleasure of orgasm became 
bearable again. He was still alive and he wasn't a virgin any more. He could 
feel what he was fucking with his cock and balls, and he could savor what it 
was he felt. The jism was still flowing out of him and he could tell that 
she was still coming, too, but now it was a relaxing sort of feeling, one 
that he wished would continue in just this way for the rest of his life. He 
wanted to laugh and shout and tell the world he'd finally done it, but he 
was far too comfortable to ever get up from the soft, all-encompassing 
cushion of flesh under him. 

And then, just when all the sensation was fading into a lovely sleepy 
euphoria, Glen noticed that his mother was crying. She'd flung her forearm 
across her face in the final throes of their great, gasping orgasms and now 
he saw tears flowing out from under her arm. 

"Mom, what's wrong? Did I hurt you? Oh, gosh, Mom. I'm sorry." 

She sniffed and smiled and wiped away the tears. She hugged him and said, 
"No, honey, you didn't hurt me. And there's nothing for you to be sorry 
about. I just ... felt so good I cried a little." 

He grinned proudly back at her and said, "I felt so darned good I thought I 
was going to die. Wow!" 

"Mm-m-m-m. And you still feel good," she said, and opened his eyes wide with 
the sensations she produced by tilting her hips up at him and hugging his 
prick with the wet warmth that was all around it. "Still nice and hard," she 
murmured, rolling her hips under him, milking out a few more slightly 
sensational drops of his cum. 

"I don't think it's ever going to go soft again!" he said, kissing her dear 
face, squeezing her big titties to his heart's content. 

"Wouldn't that be nice, A hard prick, a beautiful boy, a soft pussy and a 
willing woman ... we could be happy fucking forever. Ah, what a beautiful 
dream." 

"Couldn't we ... fuck just a little more, Mom?" Mom?" 

"You should rest, honey." 

"I'm not tired," he said, and burrowed deeper in her, grinning broadly to 
show his enthusiasm. 

"Well, I'm certainly not," she replied, with the same sort of grin, and with 
a very similar movement of her hips. "You're still nice and hard, still 
Mother's good boy. Just reach us a can of beer, lover, and we'll fuck some 
more." 

The beer felt good going down. It cooled his throat but it didn't cool down 
his hot nuts and his hard prick by even a bit. His mother's mouth tasted all 
cool and sweet when he kissed her again and sucked on her tongue and slipped 
his tongue in between her lush lips. 

"Back up and let me breathe for a moment, you horny little devil," she said. 
"See if you can sit up without taking your lovely little prickie out of me, 
honey." 

It was a job, but between them they managed to do it. It took a lot of 
giggling and pushing and pulling-plus a little fucking-but in just a few 
minutes they were both sitting relatively upright on the couch. They sat in 
a sort of Yoga position, leaning back on their hands, with their legs 
intertwined and with their bodies still comfortably joined at the loins. Her 
spine was curved so that her big tits hung down almost to her belly button, 
but still they were quite beautiful to behold. The soft bulge of her belly 
was considerably more pronounced now and there were deep creases between 
rolls of sweat-gleaming woman-fat, all wonderfully appealing to his hungry 
young eyes. Her face was dripping with perspiration, her hair lankly 
plastered against her brow and her eyes were heavy and her smile was dreamy. 
They all combined to make a beautifully erotic picture for him. And down 
below was her pussy, with his slim white prick stuck halfway in it as she 
rested and he filled his eyes with her loveliness. The hair if her pussy was 
all matted down and in a wet tangle. Her pussy had lips around it, and they 
seemed to be sucking on his cock just as the lips of her lovely face had 
sucked on his tongue. She was just dripping wet there, and the smell he'd 
been unable to identify before was now very clearly identifiable. He 
breathed it in as he gazed down at their slowly moving union. That could 
make a man far drunker than beer, and now he considered himself a man. at 
last. 

She saw where he was looking and said, "Give me your hand, honey." 

He obeyed her, of course, and she guided his hand to her loins. She place 
the ball of his thumb at the top of her soft wet slit, pushed it gently 
against a protuberance there and said, "That's my clit, lover. My clitoris. 
Rub it just a little. It feels real good when a man does that. Honey, not 
too hard. Christ, if I cum again so soon I'm just liable to wet my pants ... 
if I had any on." 

A silly little joke, but they both laughed and giggled heartily. In the 
middle of it, she broke wind. It was the first time in his life Glen had 
ever heard his mother fart. The day before it would have appalled him, but 
now it just made them laugh all the harder, especially when she said, "I 
couldn't help it, honey. You've got me so wide open I just can't control 
myself down there." 

"Look," he said, giggling and enjoying the little jiggles it put into their 
fucking. "Look, we're making a puddle on the couch cushion." 

"It's my fuck-juice. God, I'm just sopping." 

"I like the way it smells. Doe it ... taste like that?" 

The smile left her face. A beautiful look of anguish took its place and she 
bit her lip for a moment before saying, "Honey, we've gone far enough as it 
is." 

"What do you mean, Mom?" 

"I mean, fuck me, honey. Be happy with that. Fuck my pussy and kiss my lips 
and play with my titties, honey, and be happy with that." 

"I sure do like your tits, Mom. I sure do," he said, and he put his hands on 
them. He squeezed them (and he pulled and pinched their nipples, and she 
closed her eyes and slowly shook her head, as if in disbelief at how nice it 
felt. 

Mother and son were still fucking, of course. His prick was bent down just 
about as far as it would go and sliding up and down through the topmost part 
of her perfectly slick hole. He was still gently thumbing her clitoris, just 
as she'd shown him how to do, while with his other hand he was playing with 
her big tits. Nothing in the whole world, none of the pictures that Al or 
anyone else could show him could possibly compare with what he was seeing 
while he was feeling so very much-and it all seemed so effortless. It was 
all so very natural, so loving and sweet, him doing lovely things with his 
mother and her smiling dreamily and letting him make them both happier by 
the moment. There really couldn't be anything at all that would make him 
much happier. He was quite content with what he had, though there just might 
be more to experience in their future together. 

"Kiss my tits, honey," she said. "Suck on 'em. God, I'd like that right 
about now." 

"Yeah, Mom" he said, and laid back, still fucking slowly with his hard, hard 
prick and watched as she arched her body forward at him. 

The rolls of woman-flab disappeared from her belly and her big tits stood up 
for him. The pink, pink nipples were pointing straight at his mouth as it 
descended, wide open, to close wetly and suck heavily on the goose-pimpled 
big areolas and the hard velvet ball of the protuberant nipple itself. 

"Shit. Shit fuck hell damn. That feels so fucking good, Glennie." 

"Mm-hm," he said, nodding his head in agreement, never taking his mouth from 
her succulent nipple. 

"Keep fucking me, baby-boy. Keep that beautiful hard cock going in me slow 
and easy, and let's have one more good cum together before we pass out." 

He gave her a hard shove with his cock, and she emitted a gutsy moan that 
made him jab her hard again. He bit her nipple as he'd bitten her tongue and 
she said, "Oh! Oh! Oh!" 

Feelings surged in him. He'd cum once in the shower and who knows how many 
times with his first fuck, but he had to cum again-right now. 

He let the nipple pop out of his mouth and he grabbed her to him. Legs all 
entangled, he was still able to hump at her with his hips and drive his 
strong young prick into her buttery pussy, and even in this close and 
awkward a position she was able to throw it back to him. He couldn't see his 
hard cock jamming into her pink and blonde pussy, but he could certainly 
feel it as he shoved it into her as hard as he could. 

She could feel it too, and she let him know it. 

"Oh, baby. Baby, baby, baby, give me all you fuckin' got! AAOW! AAOW! I LOVE 
IT! LOVE YOUR COCK IN ME! LOVE IT!!! MY SON, MY BABY BOY, FUCK ME, CUM WITH 
ME, AND LET ME SEE IT HAPPEN TO US!!!" 

Her strength returned. As hard as he was driving into her, as close as he 
was to shooting, she was still able to push him away from her for a moment. 
That moment was just long enough for his prick to come popping and springing 
up out of her hole and eject its rich white spume up between them. It 
spurted heavily. It jetted mightily. Creamy geysers spurted up onto her 
belly and tits and chin so very beautifully that for a moment the sight of 
it was even more sensational than the feelings ripping and coursing and 
exploding in him from his asshole to his brain. His jism was as pure and 
white as snow, and as hot as fiery lava. It was shooting up in spurt after 
spurt, showering her with its thick droplets while it drained his balls and 
at the same time filled him with energy to go on. 

His slim hips were still convulsively humping, even though his six inches of 
cock was bobbing and jerking and spitting its load in empty air. She was 
still cumming, too, jamming her clitoral region against the base of his cock 
and her softer pussy against his balls, and gasping out words he couldn't 
distinguish but that he could clearly understand. 

They watched together in a very mutual ecstasy as the geysers of jism turned 
into weak spurts and these in turn became soft, delightful droolings of 
white that flowed over the ruddy red head of Glen's jerking cock. They 
sighed together in total relief and in a kind of sadness that it was over 
with for a while, and then they hugged each other in their impromptu Yoga 
position and squirmed their sweaty warm bellies together against that strong 
young organ that had given them both such profound pleasure. 

They kissed, lazily and fondly. Betty reached for the closest beer, and Glen 
got it for her. They were still joined, hopefully forever. They drank, and 
although it was warm and too fizzy, Glen liked it. He liked everything he 
could share with his dear, sweet, beautiful mother. 

"That was really something, Mom. I'm glad you let me fuck you again." 

"My pleasure," she said, and smiled and kissed him lightly on the lips. 
"Have you had enough education now, honey?" 

He shook his head. "You want me to go to college and I'm just starting out 
in high school. You want me to learn about sex and all I've done so far is 
fuck a couple of times. Do you think I've learned enough yet, Mom?" 

"I can't teach you everything." 

"Why not?" 

"Your wife. Someday you'll get married and leave me. There are some things 
you should learn from her." 

"Why not learn it all from you? Heck, you know more about it than anyone in 
the whole world." 

"Flatterer." 

"Well, it sure did feel like it. Can we fuck some more? My prick's still 
hard." 

"Darling, you need a little rest," she said, and she stroked his cheek and 
patted it. 

He pushed her hand away. "Don't treat me like a baby. I'm not a baby any 
more." 

"Yes, you're a man now," she said, and he nodded in full agreement. "But I'm 
still older than you and I know what's best for you. We're going to take a 
rest now. I'm going into the bathroom and clean up and refresh myself and 
then you're going to do the same. Then we're going to put on some clothes 
and ... Where's my little cotton wrapper? How did we get that off me? Never 
mind, honey ... We're going to get dressed and talk about what's happened 
and how we're going to handle it. Okay, honey?" she asked, and stroked his 
cheek again, and looked at him with such mature wisdom in her eyes that he 
had to nod his agreement and at least try not to think about what a tragedy 
it would be for him if they just talked about it in the future and didn't 
fuck any more.. 

 CHAPTER THREE 

Betty had a struggle getting up from the couch, but with the help of her son 
she made it. She shooed him along toward the kitchen with instructions to 
get a couple more cans of cold beer, and then went toward the bathroom on 
legs that felt considerably weaker than they looked. 

She had to lean against the sink and catch her breath before she could begin 
her ablutions. The vivid white pecker tracks all over her belly and tits and 
cunt had been left there by her son, her only son, and she'd led that sweet 
innocent boy straight down the path to the perdition of incest. It was no 
fault of his. It wasn't even Paul's fault, nor even Debbie's. The 
responsibility rested squarely on Betty McCall's own shoulders, and she 
sincerely doubted if those shoulders were strong enough to bear the guilt of 
it all. 

For all her feelings of never-ending damning guilt, she kept on washing 
herself, for this was something she knew how to do and it was something she 
needed. Her son's wonderfully virile penis had spewed all over her, and 
while it was very necessary to wash the white goo off her fair blonde skin, 
still there was a certain poignant reluctance to end their brief, one-time 
escapade with a mere washcloth. 

Better to jump off a suicide bridge than end it this way. But she had sinned 
the greatest sin of all and she had enjoyed it immensely, and a quick death 
was poor payment for that. Even worse, she had totally corrupted a total 
innocent, and even Hell itself had no place for a sinner of those 
dimensions. 

But suicide was the easy way out, and from now on, there could be no easy 
way for Betty McCall, mother and wife, respected member of the community. It 
didn't matter what her husband Paul had done or was doing at that very 
moment. She had sinned more terribly then he had, for the product of her 
loins she had lured into sex had lived with her all of his life, while 
Paul's daughter was a relative stranger to him. 

But no use thinking about Paul. He was lost and gone forever, and she hoped 
she'd never see him again, no matter how good the majority of their married 
years had been. Young Glen was the one to be concerned with now. By getting 
maudlin and drunk and worried and lonely she'd succeeded in corrupting him 
forever, unless she could somehow explain it to him. And how could you 
explain to a child the things you couldn't understand yourself? 

She hadn't meant to seduce him. It had just happened. It would never happen 
again. By scrubbing with the scented soap she could wash away all traces of 
their illicit sex together and by sitting down and talking very sanely to 
him she might be able to explain away whatever guilt she'd injected into 
him. The lie she'd told him before had been at least partially true. Only a 
few mothers had all-out sex with their sons. Some of those sons had survived 
and gone on to normal lives, of this she was sure. And the mothers ... ? 

Her generation was unimportant. It was Glen's generation that mattered. She 
would have to talk to him, explain to him. It could take hours, days, but 
she would certainly expend the effort to make it clear to him that all this 
had to be completely forgotten if he was to live a normal, happy life. She 
was sure she could do it. Glen had always listened to her before, and now, 
after their very intimate escapade, he should listen to her even more 
closely. 

It was all clear in her mind. Her body was cleansed of sex and freshly 
scented with soap and her mind was at last clear of worry and filled with 
logical future plans for her only son. And then he walked into the bathroom. 

He came grinning into the room with two frosted beer cans in his hands and 
without a stitch on. He was so very beautiful that Betty felt a little 
faint. She tried to capture this picture of him to store in her memory 
forever, for it would be the last time she'd ever see him naked. Her eyes 
drank in his tousled hair and grinning face, his hairless chest and his slim 
hips. She looked at his perfectly formed legs, his athletically slim hips, 
the strong arms she had felt around her. But most of all she looked at his 
penis, slim and strong and white, capped with a robustly healthy knob that 
pushed through stretched foreskin, still standing stiffly up out of her 
son's small patch of dark pubic hair. 

"Honey, you're still up hard," she said, and took it in her hand to test the 
firmness of it. 

"It's going to stay hard from now on." 

"It sure feels like it will, dear," she said, with all sincerity in her 
voice, for the hard hot length of cockflesh in her hand was as strong and 
resilient as it could be, and fairly bursting with young vitality. There was 
a light crust of dried semen on the outside of it, and already there was a 
fresh droplet of his fine young sex juices oozing from the end of it. 

"Your hand sure feels better than mine ever did, Mom," he said, beaming his 
boyish smile down at where she was softly milking more clear seminal fluid 
from his prick. 

"You're not going to do that to yourself any more, are you, Glen," she said, 
and laid her hand flat under it for a moment to gaze at its masculine beauty 
as if served up on a platter. 

"I won't have to now. Now that I'm a man." 

"My little boy, grown into a man already," she said, and closed her hand 
around his cock and drew the foreskin all the way back, then pulled him 
easily to her until his exposed cockhead was warmly pressed against the 
ultra soft flesh of her thigh. 

"All because of you, Mom. Is a guy supposed to thank his girl for letting 
him fuck her?" 

She smiled. "The fucking is thanks in itself." 

"Then maybe I could thank you by fucking you again. Huh?" 

"Glen, you're just terrible," she said, feeling all flustered and flushed. 

She took a can of beer from his hand and drank. It felt colder than ice 
after having his prick in her hand. That hard thing still pushed and burned 
against her thigh as she faced the mirror and tried to force calmness on 
herself, not an easy thing to do with Glen's prick insistently poking at her 
and his hand roving with fond familiarity over her tits. 

"Mom, you're just beautiful," he told her. "Let's fuck some more. Please, 
Mom. Let's get in bed and do it." 

"No, Glen. Not now. Maybe not ever again." 

He stopped, looking crestfallen, and said, "Didn't I do it right?" 

"Honey, you were wonderful," she said, and she had to embrace him for a 
moment then, to erase the lines of disappointment from his beautiful face. 
"It's just that it's gone too far already." 

"Gee, I thought you were going to teach me about sex. And you said I should 
practice. And I know there's more ways to fuck than the two we did and I 
want to learn them all. C'mon, Mom. Just one more time. In bed this time. 
You're so beautiful and I love you so much I'd just die if you wouldn't let 
me fuck you any more. Please, Mom, please. You said it wasn't wrong." 

His words were very appealing, and so were his hands roving up and down over 
the swell of her hips. His pleading eyes were appealing too, but most 
effectively of all his prick was pleading to her as it pushed and probed 
against the warm hollow of her loins and tummy. She couldn't really leave 
him in this condition. Any damage had already been done, and a little more 
of the sweet, sweet sex with her son wouldn't harm him any further. 

"Of course it wasn't wrong. You and I know that, but some people might think 
differently if they knew, honey. You'd never ever tell anyone about this, 
would you, dear?" 

"Heck, no! Cross my heart on that," he said, and did so, and then moved his 
hand to her breast. He grinned, quite sure of himself now, and said, 
"Jeezus, you've sure got a great set of tits, Mom." 

"They're too big," she said, and lifted their vibrantly living weight with 
her cupped hands for his closer inspection. 

"Like heck," he said, and stooped to kiss a nipple. "They're just right for 
me," he told her, and sucked on the other nipple, laved it with his tongue. 
He went back and forth between them with growing enthusiasm and louder 
kisses, saying, "I just love your big tits ... They taste so darned good ... 
I'd like to wake up and go to sleep every day with one in my 
mouth....They're the biggest, prettiest ones I've seen in any picture at 
all." 

As he went back and forth like a humming bird at her breasts, his hard prick 
kept bumping back and forth against Betty's thighs. Every place it touched 
was left with a tingling sensation much akin to the feelings that had grown 
in her stiff nipples. She watched each of his wet kisses on her jutting 
nipples, growing dizzier and higher on sex all the time, telling herself one 
more time wouldn't hurt, and that his sex education was far from complete. 
Her pussy was all nicely wet again and her tits and her buttocks felt huge 
and warm and good. 

"You little devil," she said. "Are you trying to get Mother all hot so 
she'll let you fuck her again? Are you trying to tease me with your sweet 
kisses and your hard prickie?" 

"I sure am," he said with a grin, and sucked one of her nipples in his mouth 
and bit it in just the exact way she adored, making every hair on her body 
stand on end and lovely warm chills course through her beautiful naked body. 

Betty pulled Glen up by his ears, turned him and pinioned him against the 
sink top with her hips. She held him there easily, her pulsing pussy very 
close to his hard cock, while she gave him a deep, deep kiss that was as 
torrid as any they'd shared on the couch. 

The tangle of their tongues ended with a wet smack and a pair of grins. She 
tried to look at least a little stern as she said, "It so happens I think 
you've had enough sex education already, young man. I'm going to wash you 
now and give you some dinner and put you to bed." 

"Aw, Mom," he moaned. "Come on. Let's fuck a little more. Please, Mom." 

"No whining. That isn't at all manly. This certainly is, though," she said, 
and backed off a bit to take his prick in hand again. 

"Let me stick it in you. Let me kiss you and play with your tits and fuck 
you and make you cum." 

"No more teasing," she said with admirable calm in her voice. "First a 
little bath, and then we'll see about your sex education, dear. Hand Mother 
the wash cloth, Glen." 

He have it to her with a look of disgust. She got down on her knees on the 
bathroom floor, took his prick in hand and began to gently wipe away the 
traces of their sex together with the warm damp cloth. It was a beautiful 
thing, and so close that she could see every part of its perfection. With 
one hand curled around it she dabbed and wiped with the cloth, while Glen 
leaned back against the sink and stared down at her raptly. He muttered a 
moan when she pulled the foreskin back as far as it would go, and she asked 
if she'd hurt him. 

"No. Oh, no," he said, and reassuringly put his hand on her blonde head. 

"I'll just kiss it and make it well anyway, dear," she said, and licked her 
lips and pursed them, placed them firmly against the bulging red knob of his 
prick and tasted with her tongue-tip the continuing oozings from his little 
hole. 

"Oh, Jeezus," he muttered, hips convulsively pushing forward, fingers 
closing in her hair. 

Betty slipped her soft sucking lips over the whole knob of it and back, 
tasting him thoroughly, before she backed away and said, "Feel better now, 
lamb?" 

"A blow job," he moaned. "Jeezus, now I've had a blow job. I sure do love 
you, Mom. Wow, a blow job." 

"Honey, that wasn't a blow job," she said, stroking his cock, kissing it 
again. "That was just a little kiss. It was a teaser, honey, and now maybe 
you've learned something about how to tease your girl friends." 

"I'll never have a girl friend but you," he blurted. "Please do that one 
more time. Please! I'm sorry I didn't know how to tease you right before. 
Kiss my prick again, just once. It felt so good I closed my eyes and didn't 
even get to see it." 

"Yes," she breathed. "Sit there and watch, darling, while I give you that 
bath I was talking about before." 

Betty licked in a wide circle all around her son's loins. The taste of his 
boysweat was delicious. She held the base of his cock lightly in one hand as 
she gave him the tongue bath, and his lovely stiff prick was always there at 
the side of her vision, brushing against her cheeks and hair. Looking up 
through her lashes, she saw his eyes and his mouth were wide open as he 
gazed down at her with either fear or disbelief on his face. He was leaning 
back against the sink, clutching it with both hands, and the more she washed 
him with her tongue, the more his body trembled and quaked. 

She nuzzled her mouth in the circle of his hair, all around the base of his 
cock, and he said in an anguished voice, "Oh, Mama. Oh, Mama!" 

"Don't you like it, honey?" 

"It tickles so good I don't know if I can stand it!" 

"Just hold still and try to enjoy it, dear." Actually she liked the way she 
was making him jump around and do a little stationary jig there in the 
bathroom. It gave her a wonderful sense of womanly power to be able to exert 
such easy and yet complete control over him. And of course the hardness and 
the size and the smoothness of his prick was just delightful. She loved the 
taste of it. It tasted positively sweet in comparison to the cock of her 
husband. She took it in her mouth again and give it another good sucking, in 
an effort to obliterate any thought at all of the bastard she'd married 
who'd run off with his daughter. He'd already taught her to suck him off. 
The poor, dumb little thing probably had his cock in her mouth more than out 
of it. 

Paul liked to be sucked off while he was driving the car, and by now Debbie 
had surely covered a lot of miles with his big salty cock in her mouth. No 
telling what sort of sex practices Paul had introduced her to. Paul had 
always been after Betty to let him fuck her in the behind, and though she 
had refused this, Debbie certainly wouldn't. Fucking her in the ass and 
making her suck him off, talking her into doing anything at all that pleased 
him, and only now and then would he stoop to pleasing her by kissing her 
pussy or fucking her as nicely as Betty was teaching Glen how to fuck. 

"Mom! Oh, Mom, I love it! It feels like I'm coming all the time, all the 
time!" She jerked off his cockshaft and sucked on the knob at the same time. 
He was tasting better and better to her. Her pussy was itching nicely. 
Though her thighs were clasped together as she knelt on the hard floor, her 
pussy felt as if it was wide open and her clit felt swollen to ten times its 
normal size. She had Glen really dancing now as he stood there panting and 
moaning and whimpering with sheer delight. His knees were bumping against 
her tits, and even that felt good to her as she continued to put her best 
efforts into the one blow job he'd remember for the rest of his life. She 
would carry him along to a climax every bit as good as he'd had when they 
were fucking. 

She swiped her tongue over his cockhead and said, "Sit up on the sink with 
your legs open wide." 

"Yes, Mom. Anything you say, Mom. Just don't stop doing it, please!" 

He looked as if he'd just run ten miles, but he was quick enough to jump up 
and get his ass on the sink and spread his legs. She spread them wider, 
arranging his heels on the edge of the sink top and completely exposing his 
genitals. His prick, white and clean and covered with her kisses, stood up 
at a sharp angle. His balls hung loosely below in his young sac that was 
almost entirely free of hair. They were beautiful little balls, all pink and 
rosy and soft-looking. She blew her warm breath on them and he squirmed all 
over and banged his head back against the wall and said, "Oh, Jeezus. Oh, 
Jeezus!" 

She leaned forward and placed a soft, sucking kiss on one of them, then 
licked its soft, soft texture. His balls convulsed and his prick jerked and 
he gnashed his teeth and said, "Lick my balls some more! Lick 'em good and 
then give me another blow job!" 

Betty leaned back and blew her warm breath against his balls again. He 
groaned loudly and said, "Make me cum, make me cum!" 

He was getting to be as demanding as his father, and she couldn't stand for 
that. She stood up and leaned over between his legs, pressing her soft belly 
against his hard sex. She kissed him leisurely and deeply, in spite of the 
rising excitement and anticipation in her body. 

"You like to get sucked off, Glennie?" 

"Love it. Just love it. Do it some more," he said, slumped back against the 
wall, too weak just now to even stir as she kissed him and played her hands 
over his naked body. 

"Most people like oral sex. I sure do." 

"Then do it some more. Make me cum. Please, Mom." 

"I like to kiss your pretty prick. It's exciting. D'you think you'd like to 
kiss me down there?" 

"Anything. I'll kiss you anywhere you like if you just make me cum." 

"Promises, promises," she said with a sigh, and moved away from him to stand 
in front of the mirror and fluff up her tousled hair. 

He lay back panting, staring at her. His hand was twitching as it inched 
toward his standing prick. He said, "You want me to ... go down on you?" 

"I want you to learn a lot about sex, and kissing a woman's pussy is 
certainly part of it." 

He looked down at her heavy, mature loins. "Does it ... really taste like it 
smells?" 

"You tell me, dear," she said. 

She opened her legs and ran two fingers down through her slit. It was very 
wet again. She sniffed her fingers and found the smell of her sex not at all 
unpleasant. He followed her every action with his eyes. When she held her 
fingers under his nose, he delicately smelled of them and said, "I sorta 
like the smell of you, Mom." 

"See how you like the taste," she said, and patted his lips. 

His chin was trembling as his tongue came out and licked over his lips. She 
had to turn away then. She had to ask herself if she wanted to make a 
pussy-licker out of him. His father had never really liked to go down on 
her, or at least he had done it with less and less frequency. Although she 
absolutely loved it and could have tremendous orgasms from a mouth sucking 
on her pussy, it had been months and months since she'd experienced that 
lovely, sexy thing. She wanted it very badly now, but she still had her 
doubts about making her son acquire a taste for it at such an early age. 

She was dizzy with desire and a little drunk and her bladder was almost 
bursting with all the beer she'd drunk. She had another sip of it while her 
son sat there licking his lips and trying to recover his senses while he 
gazed at her close nudity. He was looking down at her loins, still trying to 
decide if he wanted to kiss her pussy. She was dying to have his handsome 
young face down there between her beautiful white thighs, but she felt this 
was a decision he would have to make for himself-and she was almost certain 
he'd make the right decision, the one which would please her the most. 

Her pussy ached with the need to pee, and with the need for that great, 
great orgasm she'd soon get from his hot little mouth on her cunt. She 
shouldn't rush him, and she should pee before she felt his mouth on her 
pussy or there was a danger she'd pee right while he was doing it to her. 

She sat down on the toilet, erect, trying to look ladylike, smiling 
apologetically at him. Her water tinkled out in little spurts, because she 
was so tense with the anticipation of waiting for him to voluntarily go down 
on her. 

"Sorry, honey," she said. "I just couldn't hold it. If you decide you'd like 
to try kissing me there, I'll wash myself again first. Do I ... taste all 
right to you? Do you think you'd like to ... like to go down on me just a 
little?" 

He grinned in a way that reminded her very strongly for an instant of his 
father. He had his hand curled around his cock as he got up off the sink and 
came toward her. "I think I'd like to try it later, but right now I sure 
would like to get my nuts off." 

She got so flustered that her water stopped flowing. "Get your nuts off? Is 
that any way for a fifteen-year-old boy to talk? And stop playing with 
yourself. You promised me you wouldn't do that any more." 

"I can't help it. You got me so darned hot I just have to cum one way or 
another." 

"Stop that!" she said, anger flaring, and jerked his hand away from his 
prick. 

He put his other hand around it and thrust it forward at her. She glanced up 
ait his face and saw him leering at her, exactly as she'd seen his father 
look at her so many times. All at once she was sucking him off again and her 
water was flowing like a torrent. He put his hands on her head and said, 
"Yeah. Suck me off, Mom. Make me cum again. Ah-h-h-hh." 

She couldn't stop. She wanted him to cum as badly as he wanted to do it. Her 
hand flew on his cockshaft and her cheeks caved in. with her sucking. She 
was making whimpering sounds in her throat in her need to please him, 
swishing her tongue all over his cockhead and bobbing her head up and down 
on his prick while her water flowed and flowed, and a feeling of great 
tension built up in her trembling body. 

"Make me cum, Mom. Make me shoot. OH, YEAH!" he cried, and the salty sweet 
stuff spurted out of him, then flowed steadily into her mouth. She sucked 
and milked him, brows deeply knit in concentration. Her water was flowing to 
a halt, and in place of that gushing wet feeling came the onrush of 
impending orgasm. It was right there, so close, and Betty reached quickly 
down between her legs and rubbed her clitoris-hard. 

His body was jerking and twitching as he ejaculated, but then, just as Betty 
was about to reach a climax of her own, she realized that a good part of his 
twitchings were because he was laughing, giggling. With his flowing cock 
deep in her mouth, she looked up and saw the mirth all over his face as he 
watched her playing with herself. She couldn't stop. She was too close to 
cumming. She fell back on the toilet, against the cold commode, and her butt 
slid forward to the edge of the seat. She spread her legs wide and opened 
her cuntlips, looked up at him panting and pleading and said, "Kiss it. Kiss 
my cunt, honey, just once and make me cum good." 

"Can't hear you," he said, cupping his hand behind his ear, grinning 
broadly. 

"KISS MY CUNT, DAMN IT!" she shouted, and had to start rubbing it again lest 
all the good feelings drain away and be wasted. 

"You look like you're doing pretty good for yourself, Mom," he said, and 
squatted down and stared right at her open crotch, and at the hand that was 
frantically rubbing it. 

"Kiss it, yes, kiss it!" she said, reaching out to him, too weak with her 
lust to grasp him. 

He wrinkled his nose. "Smells sorta fishy now. It smelled good before, but 
now ... Now I'll just watch." 

"You little bastard," she moaned, and tried to turn away from him so he 
couldn't share in any part of the wonderful orgasm that was about to flow 
through her body. 

He just leaned over and watched. She couldn't stop rubbing herself, couldn't 
quite cum. She slumped back obscenely against the commode, legs wide apart, 
tits lolling, hand flying at her clit. 

"Man, look at her go," said Glen, her beloved son, turned traitor now when 
she needed him most. "Man, look at that finger-fucking," he said. "Cum, Mom! 
Let's see you cum!" 

"IF YOU WON'T EAT ME, THEN FUCK ME!" she cried, and tried to reach for him 
again. 

He dodged his head away, still laughing. She fell back, determined to get 
her badly needed relief in spite of him, all by herself. By closing her eyes 
and rubbing hard, by drowning out most of his gigglings with her pantings, 
she was able to reach an orgasm of sorts, but it was weak, unsatisfying. She 
lay back collapsed and disheveled on her ignominious throne, exhausted but 
not fulfilled. He slapped her on the knee and got to his feet, and she dimly 
saw that at last his prick was limp now. 

Hands on his hips, he surveyed her, shaking his head. "That was really 
something. Boy, if I told anybody about this, they wouldn't hardly believe 
it. I'm going to take that nap now. I'll fuck you again when I wake up, if I 
feel like it." 

She watched him go, the perfect miniature of his father now. She hadn't done 
much of a job in bending his father to her loving desires, but it would be 
different with her son. 

 CHAPTER FOUR 

Glen awoke yawning and stretching and then sat bolt upright in his bed, for 
there in the room with him was one of the models he'd seen in his friend 
Allen's pictures-come to life. There in the dimness beside his bed stood 
such an erotic being that Glen's well spent prick began to immediately rise 
and swell. She was all blacks and whites, but those two flat colors showed 
up more vividly than brilliant reds and yellows in the darkness of Glen's 
little bedroom. The whites glowed with a luminous intensity and the blacks 
gleamed dully but compellingly. All she had on was black panties and a black 
brassiere. The pornographer's model who had somehow come stealing into his 
bedroom wore a pair of panties that were tightly stretched by her feminine 
fullness. Their lace embroidered leg holes rode high on her very full 
thighs, and the taut elastic waistband stretched just an inch below the deep 
dark vertical slit of her navel. Her brassiere was a large one, its straps 
biting deeply into her soft white shoulders, its midnight black cups 
completely packed with tit so that the vertical slit there made her navel 
seem tiny and delicate in comparison. 

She had pale golden hair piled high on her head in an array of curls and 
ringlets. Dark earrings dangled and danced by the thin black choker that 
encircled her shadowy white throat as she sipped from a coffee cup. In that 
light her full lips looked black, with just the subtlest tones of underlying 
red, and her teeth looked as white as snow. Her nostrils looked black and so 
did her eyes, deep pools of shadow under heavily arched eyebrows as she 
gazed coolly down at him, one hand occupied with the coffee cup, the other 
resting comfortably on the big sweeping swell of her hip. Glen was afraid to 
move lest this most exotic vision of his masturbatory daydreams step back 
into the glossy pages of his friend's collection of titillating photos. He 
sat there tense as could be in his bed, hardly daring to breathe while his 
eyes drank her in and his prick ached with the need to see her, touch her. 

"I'm going out for a while, Glen." 

"Mom? Is that you?" 

"Yes. I just woke you up to tell you that I'll be leaving the house for a 
while. I didn't want you to wake up and find me gone and worry." 

"I've never seen you like this. You look so ... so ...." 

"It's only ten o'clock. I feel like going out and having a few drinks. If I 
don't get home until morning, don't worry about me." 

"Don't go," he said, and reached out through the darkness toward her 
gleaming white thigh, so beautifully tapered and full. 

She took a step away, and she said, "If your father can be gone for two or 
three days, I can leave for a few hours. Good night. Go back to sleep." 

"Mom, wait!" he said, as she turned and started toward the hall door, heavy 
hips swaying gracefully, big oval white buttocks showing under the high rise 
of the seat of her black panties. 

She paused in the doorway, leaning against it in a pose he was sure he'd 
seen before, and in the dim light of the living room he saw at last for 
certain that this erotically beautiful woman was indeed his mother. "Yes, 
son?" 

"Don't go out, Mom. I'm sorry if I was mean to you in the bathroom. I was 
only kidding when I laughed at you. Stay here. Stay and let me ... let me do 
it to you some more." 

"No need to apologize. I'm used to being ridiculed by my men. I'm leaving, 
Glen. Matter of fact I might not be back for a couple of days. I'm going out 
on a binge just like your father used to do, but I'm not taking my child 
with me. There's food in the refrigerator. I'll leave some money on the 
coffee table. Good night." 

She was gone, leaving him with nothing but the strong sweet scent of her 
perfume and the deep ache in his heart for her. He sat there on his rumpled 
bedclothes breathing hard for a few moments and then was out of his bed like 
a shot and after her, stiff prick bobbing along and leading the way. 

She was in the bathroom, but she didn't respond when he pounded on the door 
and called loudly for her. He stood wringing his hands in the hall, his nuts 
hurting badly with the need to pee and with the need to be close to her 
again. He tried to calm his trembling body when he heard the toilet flush, 
and he stammered out another apology when at last she emerged, looking 
unbelievably lovelier, sexier in the stronger light. She patted his head and 
smiled at him as if he was still a boy, and she told him to forget about it 
and go back to bed. She frowned and pushed his eager little hands away when 
they grabbed at her flesh, so cool and soft and velvety. He tried in 
desperation to kiss her, and she roughly shoved him away. 

"Don't touch me. I need a man, not a boy." 

Close to tears now, Glen said, "Please, Mom. Don't go. Can't we just sit 
down and talk?" 

She laughed, bitterly. "I need more than just talk. But ... Take a shower 
while I have another Coffee Royale and finish dressing. You smell sweaty and 
there's sleep in your eyes. I'll be in my bedroom." 

Again he became paralyzed as he watched her leave him, big hips swinging 
airily, thin bands of black striping her tapered white back. He hurried into 
the shower lest she leave him without even another look at her. Cold water 
pouring down shocked him into startling clarity. He might lose her forever, 
both as a lover and as a mother. He might already have seen her for the last 
time in his life. 

The disappearance of his father hadn't been so bad, for Glen could now 
remember when he'd been gone for periods of time before, but had always 
returned. And Debbie being gone hadn't bothered him at all. She'd been 
awfully cute to look at, fun to laugh with at times, but he'd hardly got to 
know her before she'd left again. But his mother leaving? That would kill 
him, especially now that he at last appreciated her fully. Never to kiss 
those lips again? Never to touch those big tits? Never again to feel the 
warmth of her pussy around his sliding prick? Unthinkable! 

The cold water made him able to face the reality of the situation, and that 
deflated him so that he was able to at last empty his splitting bladder 
there in the shower stall. He leaped out, goose-pimpled and chilled, and 
grabbed a towel to dry himself as he hurried down the hall toward his 
mother's bedroom. 

The sight of her on the bed stopped Glen as effectively as a brick wall. She 
was seated on the edge of it with one fantastically shapely leg angled up in 
the air, drawing a sheer black nylon stocking down over the curves, 
tightening the stretchy fabric as she went. The tragedy of her leaving him 
forever didn't affect his prick. That part of him stiffened and rose as he 
cautiously approached the gorgeous woman on the bed. 

Glen stood before the bed in awe, unable to say a word as he watched her 
draw on the other stocking. He felt a certain comfort in again being in the 
aura of her scent, but he feared that one more word from him might drive her 
away forever. With the welts of both black stockings taut around those 
wonderfully full white thighs that he had once lain between, she favored him 
with a small smile and reached for her steaming coffee cup. She sipped and 
offered it to him, and he jumped forward and took it from her hand and drank 
from it. Strong fumes went up his nose to his brain while the hot liquor and 
coffee burned down his throat, and he choked and gasped while she smiled in 
tolerance at him. He was every bit as drunk as before when he handed her 
back the cup. 

"Don't leave me, Mom. Not even for a little while," he pleaded. 

"I'll be back," she said, and rose and tugged at the welts of her hose to 
make the gossamer nylon tight about her knees. 

He couldn't move as she went to her dresser, opened a drawer and bent over 
it. Her bottom was huge, and hugely beautiful. The seat of her nylon panties 
formed a curved vee as it was sucked into the crack of her lovely ass and 
disappeared down deep into the crotch he'd once known. She rose and turned 
and faced him, the upper swells of her tits jiggling tightly as they bulged 
from the clasping confinement of her brassiere. Another black garment 
dangled and gleamed from her hand, and as she slipped it around her waist he 
saw that it was a garter belt with long elasticized straps and chromed 
clasps on it. Her panties looked tight enough to split as she put her hands 
into them to guide the garter belt inside and arrange it around the upper 
swells of her hips, and as she succeeded in thrusting the long black straps 
down through the leg holes of her panties, front and back. In profile to 
him, she bent to attach one of the straps, and at last he found his tongue. 

"You're just beautiful, Mom. You're like ... some kind of work of art." 

"I hope someone else besides you thinks so tonight." 

"Mom, don't go!" he said, and came forward and fell on his knees, tears 
flowing now as he pleaded up at her. 

She rumpled his wet hair and smiled down on him, so close and warm and sweet 
and beautiful. "Hook my garters for me, dear," she said. 

"Sure, Mom! Anything you say!" 

His fingers were shaking so that it was all but impossible to manipulate the 
trick little clasps. Now he could at least touch her flesh, and this he did 
with his lips and his face as well as with his fingers as he helped her 
dress to leave. Her thighs were beautiful to touch, wonderful to kiss, every 
bit as sexy as her tits had been that afternoon before he'd ruined 
everything forever between them. Down on his knees, too distraught and 
excited to speak, he moved around her to fasten each of the garter snaps in 
turn, and to find ever newer beauty to kiss and touch and hug. 

The flesh of her thighs was terrifically stimulating to his lips. With his 
nose pressed against the lacy edge of her panties, he kissed that flesh and 
sucked on it and used his tongue in just the exciting way she'd shown him to 
use it. When he was kneeling behind her to get the snaps done in back, he 
learned that her big buttocks were just as sexy and delightful to hug and 
kiss as herthighs had been, and perhaps more so. Their curvature alone was 
simply fantastic, and the softness here was beyond belief. He found himself 
following that curvature right down into the nylon-filled crack of her ass, 
panting hotly against her slowly warming flesh and taking deep draughts of 
her supremely exotic and heavily musky scent. Around in front of her again 
to get that last garter, his fingers were barely functioning. The big bulge 
of the pussy he so adored was right there under the thinnest layer of the 
most tightly stretched cloth, and before he got that garter done he had to 
press his hot cheek against it and kiss it and plead with her again not to 
leave him alone. 

"Oh, I'll come back," she said, and stepped out of the circle of his arms. 

On his knees with his prick standing hard, he watched with tragic 
fascination as she did the last of her garters without his help. Much less 
of her pale white flesh was showing as she went to the closet, but she was 
nonetheless sexy and beautiful with the thin black covering of her lingerie 
on her body scantly showing highlights of white through its dark tightness. 
When she put her feet into black, high-heeled shoes, Glen thought he might 
faint with tragic desire for her. 

"Don't go, Mom. Please stay with me. I'll go down on you and eat you like 
you wanted me to if you'll stay." 

She smiled. "No. I smell too fishy." 

"You don't! I didn't mean that! You smell just great, like flowers and ... 
and I don't know what. Mom, please!" 

She shook her head, breaking his heart. "If I stay and play with you some 
more, you'll just wind up laughing at me again. I don't appreciate that, and 
I certainly don't appreciate your threatening to tell people what we've done 
together when I was only trying to be nice to you." 

"I didn't mean that. I was only kidding," he said, with a whining note in 
his voice that he hated but couldn't keep out. "I know what we did was a 
secret. I'd never tell." 

She stood before her dresser mirror and patted her already perfectly 
arranged hair. "I'm not sure if I can believe that or not. I don't think I 
want to take the chance." 

He slumped forward on his knees, every part of his body lifeless and dead 
but his prick. He watched through the tears in his eyes as she bent over to 
get something from the closet and carry it with easy erotic grace to her big 
bed. He watched her every movement as she went back and forth between the 
dresser and the bed, the most gorgeous woman in the world, the most beloved, 
the one he'd messed up with so badly that it was killing him. 

And then he saw that it was a small suitcase on the bed and that she was 
filling it with her clothes, and he began to weep in earnest and go forward 
on his knees to her with outstretched arms, sobbing, "Mom, don't go, don't 
leave me." 

"I'll probably be back again in a few days," she said, while he hugged her 
about her grand big hips and wet the seat of her panties with his tears. 
"You know, if you carry out the threat you made and tell people what we've 
done, they won't take it lightly. They'll say I corrupted my son, and they 
could send me to jail for it. 

"But I'd never tell! I'd never!" he declared, pressing his hot cheek harder 
against the two wonderfully big, soft mounds of her ass, hugging her more 
tightly still. 

"And if I'm going to jail, I intend to have a good time before I go." 

"Me send you to jail?!? Oh, Mom! Stay with me. Please don't go." 

"Give me a reason to stay," she said, ruffling his hair as he rubbed his 
tear-streaked cheek against her nylon-smoothed hip, towering over him on her 
heels, smiling indulgently down on him. 

"I'll eat you. I'll go down on you. I'll make you feel ten times better than 
you made me feel and I'll never make fun of you again!" 

"Excuse me," she said, and walked out of the circle of his arms and back to 
the dresser. 

She stood regarding him there for a moment, one hand on her hip, while he 
watched her with breathless hope in his heart. She was perfectly though 
scantily dressed, with the single exception being that one side of her 
panties' waistband had been pulled down by him in his tearful huggings. Now 
the waistband was stretched diagonally across her belly. Half an inch of the 
whitest flesh in the world showed between the top of the waistband and the 
bottom edge of the horizontal part of her black garter belt, and he couldn't 
keep from staring at it. As if divining his thoughts she placed her hands on 
her hips and rolled her panties down until more of that most perfect skin 
showed between the two black garments. Three arched islands of white showed. 
The central one was complete and perfect, quite straight across its lower 
border of black, arching in at the sides and bordered horizontally across 
the top by her garter belt and its straps. The two outer islands were 
incomplete, for they disappeared around behind her. She'd transformed her 
full-cut panties into bikinis, and the combination of those and her garter 
belt was almost too much for him to bear. Those and the bulging black 
brassiere, the gleaming taut hose, the high-heeled shoes and most of all the 
woman inside them-there was no way in the world he could let her go. 

"Oh, I suppose I'll come back," she said, and carried another double handful 
of her gossamer undergarments to her open suitcase on the bed. 

As she bent over it he could see a great deal of her fanny, and the deep 
crack between its snowy white loaves. He immediately went forward on his 
knees and put his mouth there. If his words and his tears wouldn't make her 
stay, perhaps kissing her ass would do the job. 

She seemed to like it, for she made that little purring sound and waggled 
her hips back against his face. He liked it, too. Her perfume was strong and 
sweet there, and her flesh was just as smooth and soft and sweet as that of 
her tits. But he couldn't let himself like it too much. He couldn't let 
himself be carried away by it, for this was strictly for her. Ifhe went down 
on her as she'd wanted him to do, if he kissed her below the waist with 
utter perfection, she might be his again, at least for now. 

"Honey, you shouldn't be kissing me there," she said. "Is that a nice thing 
for a boy of your age to do?" 

"Sure is," he said, mouthing wet kisses on the two broadly deep dimples that 
marked the points of her pelvis, right at the top edge of her garter belt. 

"You'd better stop, honey, I can't think straight when you do things like 
that." 

"In a minute, Mom," he said, and lowered his kisses to the arched area of 
softer flesh between her garter belt and her rolled down panties. He had his 
hands on her hips, pulling her lightly back against him as he tasted her 
talcum-smooth buttocks with his lips and tongue. She squirmed her hips and 
not with an impatience to go. With growing confidence but with consummate 
care he began kissing her right at the top of the broad valley that would 
lead into the deep cleft of her ass, turning his head to spread his kisses, 
concentrating on perfection in every kiss. 

She took a deep breath and blew it out, and she leaned forward with both 
hands on the bed, altering the delicious curves of her bottom for him. 

"Really, honey," she said. "We ought to just sit down and talk this over 
before we both get carried away." 

"You've got a beautiful ass, Mom. Big and beautiful," he said, and calmly 
rolled her tight, tight panties farther down her hips, and slipped his slick 
tongue down into the deeper crack he'd exposed. 

"I've never felt anything like this before," she murmured, and gently 
rotated her luscious big hips. 

He smiled and pulled her panties down further. He pulled the very tight seat 
of them down until all of her big white ass was bare from just under her 
garter belt to the band of black nylon that was rolled and bunched just 
under the big mounds of her quivering buttocks. The smoothness and softness 
was beyond belief, but Glen didn't draw back to admire it. Her scent was 
positively intoxicating now, but he refused to get drunk on it. Her purrings 
and her heavy sighs and the small rolling movements of her hips were all 
marvelously thrilling, but Glen remained as calm as he could be. He just 
knelt there concentrating on being the perfect lover as he moved his wet, 
sucking lips over her big, globular buttocks-as he lightly massaged the deep 
pads of woman flesh that covered her hips-as he slid his tongue up and down 
the deepening crack of her ass. 

Now it was too deep for him to reach the bottom of her crack with his 
tongue. The farther he went in it, the warmer and sweeter it got, and he 
moved his hands back there and spread the yielding mounds with his thumbs. 

"Better stop now, honey," she said. "You're ... getting me too excited. 
Stop, honey. I'll ... go to bed with you now. I won't leave you. Oh-h-h-h. 
Oh, Glen...." 

As gently but as firmly as he could, Glen pulled her buttocks apart just as 
far as they would go. He saw her anus then for a moment. He saw a tight 
little puckered mouth that wasn't at all unattractive. It looked soft, and 
it looked as if it was just waiting to be kissed, so he wet his lips with 
his tongue and Frenched her there. 

"Glen, darling!" she said with a gasp, and her hips snapped back for a 
moment, allowing him to drive his tongue deeper into her hole and jamming 
the soft flesh harder against his cheeks. "Glen, that's going too 
far-r-r-r-r," she moaned, and reached down between her parted legs and 
stroked his chin. 

He pulled away from her enticing fingers and got his breath a bit as he 
covered her whole upturned ass with kisses. He jerked her bunched panties 
down a bit more and returned to her asshole, probing deep, eliciting sighs 
and moans and purrs and squirmings from his adored one. 

"Nobody. Nobody ever before," she murmured, body softly heaving with her 
breathing, hips constantly squirming now. 

He drew back and bit the fattest part ofher asscheek just as she'd taught 
him to nip her nipple with his teeth. He needed no instruction on how to 
tickle and touch up between her spread legs wkh his hands. Her panties, all 
bunched and rolled, were in the way of her pussy, but just then it seemed 
that her inner thighs were an extension of the sweet hole he'd recaptured 
for himself. 

Before he could French her butt-hole again she took a deep breath and 
straightened up, turned around in the circle of his arms and smiled 
radiantly down at him. There were tears in her eyes as she bent and kissed 
him on the mouth, but there was no sadness in the way she used her tongue on 
him. Their ardor was back, stronger than before, and calmer now. 

 CHAPTER FIVE 

"Did that make you cum, Mom?" 

She shook her head and smiled. "I honestly don't know. It was something too 
new to me. I don't know if I was having one big steady orgasm or if it just 
felt too new and strange and good for me to orgasm from it this time at 
all." 

"This time," he said. "Then I am going to get to do it again?" 

She smiled and kissed him again, stroked his cheeks with her hands while he 
gently felt of her tits with his. Their tears were gone, their eyes were 
sparkling with joy and happiness as their lips parted. 

"Now I want to kiss your pussy," he said. 

A delicious tremor rippled through her and she said, "You're going to like 
it, dear. So am I. I'll really cum for you that way. It's just wonderful how 
excited you can get me." 

"Me, too," he said with a grin. 

"I wore my sexiest lingerie for you. I knew you'd like it. Do you want me 
naked now, lover?" 

"Later," he said, and she kissed him and straightened up for him and posed 
in close-up view now. She was as pornographically beautiful as ever, perhaps 
more so, for now her sheer black panties were a thin ebony roll that girded 
her lush body just below her elegantly big hips. Her soft blonde pubic hair 
crept up from the black rope of nylon in a delicate fan to grace her 
perfect, slightly bulging tummy. Her hips were intriguingly cocked to one 
side. He waited and watched with joyful patience as she slid her soft hands 
over her softer flesh. They had time now. Plenty of it. 

She reached down between her parted legs, cocked an eyebrow in mock apology 
and said, "My panties are all wet. I am too." 

He nodded, spreading the wetness of himself over his peckerhead with the 
ball of his thumb. 

"Do you want to take my panties off, or shall I do a little strip tease for 
you, honey?" 

"You do it this time. My hands feel too nervous now." 

With alternating tiltings of her hips, she rolled her panties into a tighter 
rope of nylon as they came down over her hips and thighs. It was a beautiful 
thing to see, the downward descent of her panties over the white of her 
thighs and the dazzling gray of her hose, but Glen kept glancing up to her 
crotch. He was just catching glimpses of it as she removed her panties. 
Betty was purposely doing it that way, teasing him, and he knew it and he 
liked it. She bent over in the removal of her panties, making her tits loom 
large over his face, and making the hairy juncture of her loins recede into 
shadows of white and black. She paused to kiss him and pinch his cheek and 
tousle his hair in spite of her eagerness to feel his mouth between her 
legs, kissing her box and making her really cum. 

She steadied herself with one hand on his head while she took her panties 
off over her spiked heels, and still he didn't get a clear view of her 
pussy, for then she stood up with the black nylon bunched in her hand and 
blotted herself up between her legs with it. 

"My cunt's just sopping wet," said Betty. 

"My mouth's just watering for it," said Glen. "My tongue feels as hard as my 
prick. Show it to me. Let me see it before I kiss it." 

She cast the panties aside and opened her legs, and she looked down with 
Glen as she parted the sweetly hairy flesh there with her fingers. It was 
all glistening and pink among the gold, and now he had a clear view of the 
hot little organ that was her clitoris, and that she'd already taught him 
how to caress with his fingers. Before he'd studied her pussy nearly long 
enough, he was compelled to lean forward and smack a wet kiss, right on the 
tiny throbbing finger of her clit. 

"Honey, wait till I sit down!" she said, and her body stiffened and jerked, 
and she closed her fingers in his hair and pulled him closer to her. 

He grabbed her hips to kiss her harder, sucking on her clit and stabbing the 
point of his tongue against it, and she cried out in sweet agony and threw 
herself back on the bed, holding onto his head with both hands now. 

"Yes, yes, YES!" she called out. "I'm cumming already!" 

She threw her legs high and wide in the air, and he squeezed her soft hips 
hard and sucked and kissed with fervor. The bed was creaking and groaning 
under her thrashings and kickings while she cried out in deepest ecstatic 
delirium and he went on kissing her cunt. He'd been a little afraid of the 
taste of her before but now he found he loved it. His entire lower face was 
buried in the soft moist folds of her quivering cunt, his nostrils were 
buried in her wet hair, and his eyes were fixed forward on her beautiful 
body as it thrashed and crashed and heaved and bucked on the bed. 

"MORE, JUST A LITTLE MORE!" she called out in seeming anguish. 

"A lot more," he murmured, and took a new hold with his lips on her clit. 

"Darling, I'm cumming again-n-n-n-n," she moaned, body going rigid now, 
shivering and shaking and writhing very slowly. 

He nodded, still sucking, looking up over the snowy undulating plain of her 
black-striped belly to the quivering black mountains of her tits. 

"Ah-h-h-h-h, ah-h-h-h-h, UH-H-H-H-H-H!" she said, as she was able to get her 
two spiked heels dug into the edge of the mattress and push her heavily 
orgasming cunt up against the hard sucking mouth of her son. She wanted to 
rip her lingerie off, but she knew he liked to see her that way, and that 
turned her on even more. She put her hands on her nyloned knees and pushed 
them farther apart for him, and he sucked and licked right down to her 
sexhole and back, then tilted his head to the side and took a new bite on 
her clit. It felt as big as Glen's prick at the moment, and it made her 
think of his prick. She longed to have that in her mouth at the moment, but 
her ecstatic joy was bordering on the impossible already. 

"Mm-m-m-m-m," he said, as the taste and feel of hot wet cunt permeated 
throughout his young body. With her hands gone somewhere else, he used his 
fingers to stretch her sweet flesh open wider for his kisses. He felt like a 
miracle man to be able to remain in control of himself while such tremendous 
feelings swept and surged through his body. She must be feeling even more, 
and he was glad of that, and he wanted her to feel even more than she was 
already. She'd broken one bra strap with the contortions she was doing on 
the bed and one of her tits was lolling nakedly on her sweating chest. He 
wanted to grab it, but there was no way in the world he could take his 
fingers from the sex flesh he was sucking on. From the corner of his eye he 
could see that her hands were on her knees, and that her nails had run the 
stretched nylon hose there. It was almost frightening the way she was 
throwing herself around on the bed from his kisses, but it wasn't 
frightening enough for him to quit. 

"Stick your tongue in my hole for just a second," she gasped. 
"U-u-u-u-O-O-O-O-H-H-H-H," she groaned, louder and louder, as she wriggled 
her hips and pushed herself down on his penetrating oral sex member. 

He stuck it in just as far as he could, needing to taste her as purely as he 
was able to taste her, and mashing his mouth against the portals of her 
cunt. Just for a second, she'd said, but a second wasn't long enough. He 
held onto her asscheeks hard with both hands, letting her cuntlips close on 
his face, and he burrowed deeper with his flicking tongue and ground his 
mouth hard on hers. 

Her body was very rigid again as she lay there with her legs spread as far 
as they would go. She was making mixed sobs and groans as he got at her cunt 
with his mouth and her clit with his nose. Her cunt was in the black frame 
of her garter belt and her garters, her big bare nipple was hard as could be 
and trembling. Her torso was arched into a quivering bow, waiting for 
another big orgasm to explode through it while he kissed her cunt and the 
sex juice laved his tongue and trickled down his throat and tickled down 
through the open crack of her ass. 

"Uh, uh, uh," she said, kicking her feet and jerking her body as it started 
to happen again. She didn't know how many times she'd cum by then, and she 
didn't care. Each was better than the last, and this was the one that had 
hold of her now. 

"Oh ... God ... damn," she said, in time with the thrustings of her hips, 
though he needed no commands to continue. "DARLING! DARLING!" she screamed, 
as he moved up and sucked on her clit again, just as she needed, very hard, 
and right now. "EE-E-E-E-EKKK! DON'T STOP! EEE-E-E-E-EKKKK!" she squealed, 
and one shoe flew off her kicking foot, and she felt the other bra strap go. 

"I'm not about to stop," Glen murmured, and got his hands under her thighs 
and pushed them up toward her head as far as he could. 

Immediately her hands encircled them under her knees and pulled them 
farther. Now she was completely open down there from her asshole to her 
clit, and Glen took a good long hungry look at her lovely wet luscious sex 
before he began to feverishly lick her and suck her from top to bottom and 
back again. 

He was driving her absolutely crazy, and she positively loved it. He was too 
young for inhibitions, too innocent to think they were doing something 
wrong, and as far as she was concerned, there could be nothing wrong with 
this. It was simply too good. It transcended anything she'd dreamed 
possible, and there was absolutely nothing wrong with them being together 
like this. Another big, big orgasm trembled and quaked through her. She laid 
as still for it as she could. It seemed to last for long, wonderful hours. 
He kept it going and going with his marvelous tongue and lips on her two sex 
holes and in between them and on her clit, her burstingly happy clit. With 
no effort at all in spite of the cataclysm ripping through her, she held her 
legs back for him. He was poking his fingers in her holes while he sucked on 
her clit now, doing wonderful things to her to extend her period of intense 
joy. She was still eking great pleasure out of the orgasm when she told him 
to quit for a moment. 

"Quit and fuck me now, honey," she said, exhausted but filled with energy, 
smiling warmly at his flushed wet face as it arose. "Fuck me in the ass. I 
want to see how that feels, dear, and so do you." 

"Yeah," he said, and fitted the knob of his cock there and pushed it right 
in. 

She was all slick and wet there. It didn't hurt a bit. Hurt? On the 
contrary, it felt just marvelous. The first penetration was every bit as 
good as the first she'd felt in her cunt, years and years ago, and when he 
started to move, it felt even better. 

"You're tighter here," he said, sliding it in and out as he looked down, 
watching. 

"You like it better than my cunt, honey?" 

He shook his head. "Nothing's better than your cunt." 

"Stick your pretty prick in me there now." 

"Plenty of time for that later. Tomorrow. The next day." 

"Forever." 

"It really excited me making you cum like that." 

"M-m-m-m. It was so good. You're such a good lover, such a good pussy 
licker. You liked it?" 

He licked his lips, smiling, still moving his cock in her butt. "I loved it. 
I wish I could kiss your cunt while I was fucking you." 

"Me too, but this is just awfully good right now. Touch it, honey. Just 
touch it once and I'll cum for you." 

He grinned. "Where? Here?" he said, and touched her with both hands at once, 
slipping fingers in her hole, pulling and pushing on her clit, watching and 
feeling himself cum with gloating satisfaction while this sexiest woman in 
all the world went through her best orgasmic dance yet for him. 

With her sucking asshole, she milked every bit of jism from his body, and 
there was a lot of it. He squirted and squirted and squirted, rocking back 
and forth on his knees, pinching her clit and her nipples and poking his 
fingers in her cunt while his pecker filled her butt to overflowing with hot 
cream. A long time before-or perhaps only minutes-she'd been a 
professionally perfect pornographer's model, but now she was even sexier 
after the transformation he'd made take place in her. Her make-up was all 
smeared and her smooth face was contorted into a grimace of lustful joy. Her 
careful hairdo was a tumble of damp yellow curls around her rocking head. 
Her tits had burst free of their bonds and were flopping back and forth on 
her chest. Her hose were torn and only her garter belt was in place, and 
this was bunched up around her waist and not doing a bit of good. One shoe 
and one earring was missing, she was sweating and her perfume was blended 
with the smell of raw sex, and she was absolutely beautiful to him, even 
after the last drops of his jism had flowed with such delight into her body 
and they were both sighing and smiling and relaxing together. 

He leaned forward on her and hugged her about the waist, happy, content. 
"Can I get you anything, Mom?" 

She hugged him back, drew him up and kissed him. "I have everything I need." 

"Me, too," he said, still hard, still burrowing in her ass, but softer now, 
more comfortably. "Sleepy?" 

"Mm-hm." 

"Too bad. Maybe I could get you some coffee. Wake you up a little so's we 
could have some more fun." 

"No thanks, honey. It's time we both got some sleep now." 

"Can I sleep in here with you tonight?" 

She hesitated, then said, "No, dear. We'll stay in our separate beds. I 
think things will work out better that way." 

"Whatever you say, Mom, but I sure would like to sleep with you tonight." 

"You devil. We wouldn't get any sleep at all, and you know very well 
tomorrow's a school day for you." 

 CHAPTER SIX 

In the morning Glen was once again awakened in his bed by his mother. She 
looked entirely different than she had the night before, but nonetheless 
beautiful. 

She was wearing an outfit that was somewhat less bizarre than her black 
lingerie-a bright cotton blouse and a pair of faded jeans, and on her feet 
were the sandals she usually wore around the house. Her blonde hair was 
brushed back and tied with a green ribbon. She smelled of soap rather than 
perfume. In place of the heavy make-up of the night before she had on only a 
touch of pink lipstick. The exotic pornographer's model was gone. Her place 
had been taken by this lovely and familiar woman who was his mother, with a 
few subtle differences-there was a knowing look in her eyes and in her 
smile, her hand was resting lightly but intimately on his upper thigh, and 
her greeting kiss was exceedingly warm and deep. 

"Sleep well, Glen?" 

"I sure did. You?" 

"The best sleep I've had in days. You'd better get up now, honey. Can't have 
you being late to sch ... Glen, whatever in the world is this hard thing 
you've got under the covers?" 

He squirmed in a joyful ecstasy of sexual embarrassment as her hand closed 
around his early morning erection. "Oh, Mom. Mom, let's do it, let's screw," 
he said, reaching out for her. 

"How can you even suggest such a thing?" she said, her back stiff with mock 
indignation. "I'm not that kind of a girl." 

He giggled and said, "Let me kiss your cunt and fuck it. You'll like it. I'm 
a guy that knows what he's doing when it comes to fucking." 

She rolled her big blue eyes and looked properly flustered. She said, "How 
dare you say a thing like that to me!" She didn't let go of his prick 
through the covers as they giggled together over the little game they were 
playing. 

It was she who resumed the game. She sat up straight and looked sternly 
concerned. She pushed his hand from her breast and said, "Glen, I really am 
worried about how swollen your penis is this morning. Does it hurt, dear?" 

"Sort of," he said, unable to keep all the adoration out of his eyes as he 
lay there breathing in her pure sweet scent, and wriggling like a happy 
puppy under her hand. 

"I think I'd better have a look at it. Would that embarrass you, Glen?" 

"If it's gotta be done, I guess I can stand it." 

He watched, flushed and breathing hard, as she carefully drew down the 
covers. His prick was always hard at that time of day but on this morning it 
seemed to be straining upward more rigidly than ever. It seemed to have a 
different quality to it, too. It looked like the same boy's prick, smooth 
and white, slim and long, topped with a plum-like rosy knob that stretched 
his foreskin widely. But though the appearance was the same, it was now the 
prick of a man, for it had at last been used in the proper and complete 
manner. Manly though it was, it was just as sensitive and excitable as ever 
when Betty encircled its base with her thumb and forefinger, while her other 
fingers curled down under his balls. 

"My, that's terribly swollen," she said. "It looks all sore and red on the 
end. I don't think you can go to school in this condition, and you really 
can't afford to miss any more school. I can't imagine what's wrong with it," 
she said, stroking it lightly now, making him clutch the covers and stifle a 
moan of delight. "Do you think I should call the doctor?" 

"You've been a pretty good nurse when I've been sick before, Mom. I bet you 
can take care of it." 

"Feels feverish, too. See how red the end is? And look, there's a little 
discharge coming out the end of it. I don't know whether to use a hot water 
bottle on it or an ice bag. Hmm-m-m-m," she said, as she continued to very 
lightly and delightfully stroke it while looking down at it with great 
concern. 

"It's hurting better and better, Mom." 

"Hm-m-m-m-m, I wonder. Perhaps if I just ... mm-m-m-m," she purred, and bent 
over and slipped her soft lips over it. 

Slowly and gently she sucked it right in her mouth, and quickly and 
delightfully young Glen was sent soaring high on the wings of pleasure. 

"Mom, Mom, Mom," he crooned, stroking her golden hair, watching her downy 
cheeks sunken in so beautifully as her glistening pink lips slid up and down 
over his cockshaft. "I love you so." 

Even with his cock in her mouth she was able to smile at him. But she took 
it out now, and she slid her cheek down its wet length, blowing her warm 
breath against his balls until she was kissing him there. "I love you, too," 
she murmured, and up she went again with her mouth until she was able to 
suck him in again. 

She would scarcely let him touch her. She kept gently pushing his hands away 
each time he put them on her tits or her hips, but he was happy enough as he 
was, just being able to feast his eyes on her while his prick was being 
sucked in such an expert and loving manner. 

Betty took it out of her mouth and licked it like a lollipop. Her tongue 
slurped all up and down its throbbing hard length and around the ridge of 
its knob. She had drawn back the foreskin to bare the head of his prick 
completely, for that was the most sensitive part of it. His prick was softly 
and continuously oozing clear seminal fluid, and she was fastidiously 
lapping it up as it came out. Now and then she'd draw her head back and 
merely blow her breath against his prick and balls, and even that felt ten 
times better than his usual masturbations. The ribbon that drew back her 
blonde hair allowed him to see her beautiful face throughout the experience, 
and he worshipped her then, he absolutely worshipped her. 

"Mom, it feels so good I can hardly stand it," he said. 

"And it's going to feel better ... soon," she assured him. 

"I know. I know," he moaned, and he felt his balls swell and the tinglings 
in his legs and spine and everywhere in his body began to grow out of 
control, and she immediately sensed this. 

She smiled for a moment before taking his cockhead in her mouth. Her clear 
brow knit into furrows as she concentrated on giving her son the utmost 
pleasure now. One hand was laid flat on his belly to hold him at least a 
little still, and the other began to smoothly but rapidly massage his 
cockshaft, coaxing out the semen that was already on its way. Her soft 
suction helped it along, as did the tongue that whirled and swirled so 
slickly over the bulbous red head in her mouth. 

"I'm exploding!" he cried. "I'm cumming, shooting! Feels so wonderful to 
cum-m-m-m-m cum-m-m-m-m, CU-M-M-M-M-M!!" 

Glen's orgasmic thrashings tore up the bed. There were times when he thought 
his orgasm would go on forever, times when he thought he'd die from the 
intensity of the pleasures of it. He groaned and moaned and thrashed and 
shot, and throughout it his mother, his wonderful faithful mother stayed 
right with him, sucking his cock and jerking him off, swallowing his semen 
as fast as it came out, putting her all into making her little boy happier 
than he'd ever been in his life. 

His body was still tingling everywhere when at last she drew back, smiling 
and licking her lips. She gazed fondly down at the wet stiff prick in her 
hand, then returned to it with her tonguetip to catch the last drop of his 
semen slowly oozing out of his cum hole. The night before he'd been able to 
cum over and over again while he stayed hard for hours, but this morning's 
blow-job was of such tremendous proportions that already his lovely stiff 
prick was wilting in his mother's hand. 

She pressed it to her cool, cool cheek and she kissed it one more time. She 
said, "I think you can go to school today after all, dear. We seem to have 
gotten to the root of your problem." 

"Mom. Mom, that felt so good!" 

She patted his hip and moved up on the bed to kiss him lightly on the lips. 
She patted his cheek and murmured, "It was pretty nice for me, too. But get 
up now. Take your shower while I finish fixing your breakfast. And make your 
bed before you go to school. You've gotten it into a terrible tangle, dear." 

He was smiling dreamily as he watched her leave his room, lovely big hips 
swinging liltingly in her tight old jeans, blonde hair bobbing under its 
ribbon. His life would never be the same. She had opened the door to a whole 
new world for him, and he'd be eternally grateful. He knew very well what 
they'd been doing was wrong, but at the moment he felt far too good to worry 
about that. 

There were a lot more smiles between them than usual during breakfast, but 
she wouldn't permit him to get sexily familiar with her. When he finally 
left, she gave him an extremely affectionate kiss at the door, slipping her 
tongue in his mouth and giving him a delightful little squeeze on his butt. 

"Have a nice day at school, dear," she said. "And don't forget to bring your 
homework home." 

"I feel like staying home today." 

"None of that. Run along, dear." He kept looking back over his shoulder as 
he walked down the block, hoping for another glimpse of her to last him 
through the day. As it was, her lovely countenance was in his mind almost 
constantly throughout his classes. Somehow he was able to keep up with his 
teachers, but he thought about his mother a lot, and he thought about her in 
a different way, for he was a changed man now. 

Looking around the classrooms during the day, he wondered how many of his 
schoolmates had lost their virginity. Several of them had bragged about it, 
but now that he knew what the score was when it came to sex, he knew very 
well that some of these braggarts had been lying. From their stories, it was 
now apparent that they simply didn't know enough about sex to have engaged 
in it. Some, however, had probably screwed some girl, just as they had said 
they did. But in comparison to the all-out sex he'd had with his mother, 
their sexual escapades were little more than masturbation. They had had 
frantic, fumbling experiences in the back seats of cars or on some girl's 
couch, while he had experienced-and greatly enjoyed-just about every facet 
of sex he'd ever heard of. Others in his classrooms had surely had sex and 
then kept quiet about it. He tried to pick these out during the day, and he 
at last decided that these were the ones with quiet, calm demeanors and an 
attitude of easy confidence about them. There was no need for them to brag 
about their sexual prowess, for these were the ones who simply enjoyed it as 
a natural and very delightful function. They had their good times and they 
kept quiet about them as they .looked serenely ahead to more of them. 

He wanted to be like those people, but he was different, for he had had sex 
with his mother. And then he thought some more, as the day went by, and he 
wondered which of these calm, self-assured enjoyers of sex had experienced 
it with their mothers, or with their sisters. If it happened to him, it must 
have happened to others. He and his mother weren't so different from other 
people in the neighborhood. The opportunity was certainly there for it to 
happen. When two people of opposite sex live under the same roof, sharing 
the same table and bathroom and couch, sharing the same instincts for sex, 
some of them inevitably had to get together and really do the things he and 
his mother had done. He tried to pick these very special ones out of the 
familiar faces of his classmates, and with a shock he wondered if any of 
them could pick him out as a special one too. 

He remembered at the end of the day to bring his homework, and he thought 
about matters further as he slowly walked home from school. His mother had 
told him repeatedly that they were doing nothing wrong, but inside him he 
knew that they were. He remembered something from the time he used to go to 
Sunday School, something about the sin of incest, and it frightened him a 
little. Although he never read anything in the papers about people going to 
jail for incest, that didn't mean it didn't happen, for he read only the 
comic section anyway. Could he be sent to jail for what he'd done with his 
mother? Were people punished just for feeling so all-over good? Would his 
angry father and the police be waiting for him when he got home? Even worse, 
was his beautiful mother already in jail, just for being so darned nice to 
him? He clutched his schoolbooks tightly under his arm and began to run the 
rest of the way home. 

There wasn't a sign of a squad car around his house, but that didn't mean 
they weren't waiting for him just inside the door. They might be there with 
brandished guns and opened handcuffs, but that didn't stop Glen. His mother 
was the one who was in real danger, and so he charged on in, determined to 
save her if it cost him his life. 

"Mom!" he called. "Mom, where are you? Are you okay?" 

"I'm in the kitchen baking cookies, honey," she called back. 

There wasn't a trace of peril in her melodious voice, but Glen charged ahead 
with a heart filled with bravery, knowing that it still might be a trap. He 
stopped in the kitchen doorway as if it was a brick wall, totally stunned by 
what he saw. 

She was in the midst of preparing cookies, just as she'd said. He'd seen her 
that way-or almost that way-dozens of times before in his life. She was 
wearing her pink gingham apron as she stood at the sideboard of the sink 
using her cookie cutter. Her blonde hair was pulled back in a pony tail, and 
she was smiling sweetly at him from over her shoulder. Her mixing bowls and 
spoons and her recipe books were all at hand, and already Glen could smell 
the wholesome aroma of the first batch of cookies baking in the oven. It was 
exactly the same scene he'd encountered so many times in the past, except 
that his mother wasn't wearing a stitch under her familiar pink apron. 

The bow of her apron strings was draped down over her big bare ass, and her 
lovely vee back was completely naked. As she bent over to cut the cookies he 
could see her big tits jiggling freely under the skimpy bodice of the 
kitchen garment. Her pussy, of course, was barely covered. He thought he 
caught a glimpse of it as she turned to face him, wiping her floury hands on 
her apron as she spoke to him. 

"Is that your homework, Glen?" 

"Huh?" he said, staring, awed, delighted. 

"I asked you if you'd brought your homework home as you should have." 

"Homework? Oh, yeah. Yeah, I brought it home. Gawd, do you ever look sexy!" 

"In this old thing?" she said, fluttering out the apron skirt with her hands 
and tugging at its neckband, causing her tits to jiggle and giving him 
another flashing look at her cunt. 

"Yeah," he murmured, grinning. "In that old thing." 

"Aren't you going to kiss me hello before you go out and play with the 
boys?" she asked. 

He dumped his books on the table and came forward. She half turned to face 
him as they met, and she greeted him with sexily drooping eyes, an open 
mouth, and a beckoning tongue. They kissed slowly and sensuously, with all 
the time in the world, with none of the intensity that would soon enter into 
their embrace. One of Glen's hands went under the bow of her apron strings 
to rove and fondle and caress over the big round naked buttocks that had 
greeted him at the doorway. His other hand freely felt and hefted her big 
tits through the thin cotton of her apron. Her ass was smooth, terrifically 
rounded, so much better than the little bee-bee butts he saw at school all 
day. Her tits were far better too, because they were so very big, and 
because he could feel of them. The crack of her ass was deep and moist, and 
it led down to an even deeper, even moister hole that he'd soon have his 
burning cock in. Her nipples were up as firmly as his cock, pushing out the 
flimsy fabric of her apron and getting bigger and sexier still as he plucked 
at them with his fingers. 

And while he was touching and kissing her, she was kissing and touching him. 
Her shoulder was against his, and her hand was moving over the front of his 
pants, pulling and stroking at the hard hard organ there. 

She drew away. They looked deeply and lovingly into each other's eyes, and 
then she looked down to where her hand was. "It's still hard," she said, 
"and I imagine it still hurts to have it that way. The treatment I gave you 
in bed this morning hasn't seemed to help. Do you think we should take you 
to a doctor now, or should we have one more try with one of Mother's home 
remedies?" 

"It doesn't really hurt now. In fact, it feels pretty good as long as you're 
touching it," he said, returning her teasing grin, going on with his part of 
the delightful game by playing with her naked fanny and feeling of her tits. 

She kissed him again and sucked on his tongue a little. She said, "I'm right 
in the middle of baking cookies, but I'd better have a quick look at it. 
Undress, darling. Everything." 

"In the bedroom?" he asked, already unbuttoning his shirt. 

"Right here," she said, and turned and leaned back against the sink. "I want 
you to take off every stitch of your clothes, honey, while Mother watches." 

He stood in the middle of the kitchen and started peeling down to his skin. 
His mother watched his every move with keen interest, and he drank in the 
sight of her standing there. 

The ruffled apron skirt had formed a triangular valley at her loins, as if 
her pussy was in a sucking mood. Her big round tits were drawn down by their 
weight into the hammock formed by her apron's bodice, and the big, 
protuberant nipples seemed to be staring at him too as he disrobed. He took 
his time about it, as difficult as that was, for he knew she Was enjoying 
the sight of his emerging naked body. Uncharacteristically for him, he hung 
his clothes over the kitchen chair as he undressed. She scratched at one of 
her nipples while he was undressing, and he licked his lips and stared 
straight at it as she did so. Taking off his pants, he licked his lips again 
as his gaze followed her hand down to her apron skirt. She frankly rubbed 
her twat through the thin gingham while he took off his trousers. His prick 
was so stiff it was making a tent out of his Jockey shorts. It bobbed up and 
down, pointing straight at her, as he stripped the shorts down his legs, and 
it led the way as he advanced on the beautiful near nude woman standing 
there at the sink. 

She took it in hand right away, bending over to look at it and then kiss it. 
She held it very lightly in her soft hand as she straightened up shaking her 
head. "I don't know what we're going to do about that. You certainly can't 
be running around with a thing like this in your pants all the time. I'll 
finish these cookies and then we'll see what we can come up with in the way 
of relief for you, dear." 

Betty turned her back on him and resumed her work with the cookie dough, and 
Glen immediately got down on his knees and began kissing her beautiful white 
ass. She was already so excited that her hands and her knees were trembling, 
but she maintained her facade of motherly coolness, the better to enjoy this 
time with her son. His hands were shaking too, and so were his lips, as they 
moved everywhere over her globular white buttocks, kissing and feeling and 
licking the luscious mounds and spreading them apart to taste the salty 
sweet dampness deep in the valley of her sex. He kissed down the backs of 
her legs, sucked on the backs of her knees, and thoroughly enjoyed each 
little tremor of delight that went through her body as a result of his 
arduous kisses. He traced patterns with his tongue as he moved up her legs 
again, licking her inner thighs, and she had to stop with the cookies and 
grip the edge of the sink with both hands to steady herself. 

Glen got to his feet breathing heavily, kissing her bare shoulder and 
reaching around inside her apron to feel of her bare tits. His stiff prick 
was sprung up under her big crotch, feeling the humid feverish heat there as 
he murmured, "Let's fuck, Mom. Come on. Let's feel good." 

"I've got to finish these cookies," she said, quite breathlessly in spite of 
her determination to play the calm one. She rolled her big hips softly and 
pushed them back at him, and she closed her heavy thighs on his thrusting 
pecker to further inflame his senses to a point where he'd last for a long 
long time with her. She already had him so hot he was panting. When she 
turned to give him her tongue over her shoulder, she saw the glazed look of 
lust shining wonderfully in his eyes. She gave his balls a squeeze as she 
said, "Excuse me, dear, I've got to put another batch in the oven." 

"I don't want cookies, I want you," he said. 

"Take your time," she said, and elbowed past him with the cookie sheet. 
"Take your time and have both." 

Her ass was simply too much to resist as she bent over the oven. Glen went 
forward and got on his knees again. He placed his trembling hands on it and 
gazed at its moony beauty up close for a few dazzling seconds, then parted 
the quivering mounds to expose her sweet little asshole for his kisses. He 
tongued it and sucked on it in a fever of delight, urgently needing to make 
her feel as wonderful and excited as he was feeling. She rolled her hips 
around in that special, sexy way of hers and pushed back at his mouth, and 
he licked all around between her asscheeks until she closed the oven door 
and stood up straight again. 

"You devil," she said, ruffling his hair and smiling down on him. "How am I 
ever going to get these cookies done when you do nice things like that to me 
all the time?" 

"Let's do it, Mom. Let's do it now," he pleaded. 

"I've just got one more batch to cut," she said, and went to the sink. 

He followed right behind her on his hands and knees, stiff prick dragging 
under him and all but dripping on the tile floor. This time he went to the 
heart of things. As she stood at the sink with her cookie cutter, he pushed 
her legs apart and got between them. She didn't stop working, but she moved 
her hips back from the sink, and Glen could then lean back against the 
cabinet there and face her pussy. 

In his eagerness he grabbed her around the thighs and began to kiss her cunt 
through the pink gingham. She pushed him away just long enough to pull the 
cloth up from between them, and then she parted her lovely legs and settled 
her furry cunt against his sucking mouth. 

Just a few moments of his educated sucking effectively destroyed the rest of 
the game they'd been playing. Betty had to set the cookie cutter aside and 
hold onto the sinktop with both hands to support legs that were rapidly 
having their strength sucked out through her pussy. He was really going at 
it. She'd been afraid that he'd have some guilt about their new relationship 
that day at school, and had therefore staged this erotic kitchen performance 
in order to bind him to her and insure his silence, and of course, to enjoy 
his hot young body some more. She hadn't counted on it working so well. He 
was completely aroused, totally passionate, kissing her cunt in a 
wonderfully exciting manner. She couldn't see his face, for the apron 
obscured that, but she could feel every movement of his mouth and tongue, 
oh, how she could feel it! 

"Honey, that's just wonderful! Suck me some more, just a little more, and 
I'll fuck you so good, so very good." 

He nodded his head, ever sucking, and she tilted her trembling hips up to 
give his mouth more of her cunt. 

"Suck me off like I sucked you off this morning. Make me cum like this, 
baby. Oh, shit! It feels so fucking good! Uh, uh, uh!" 

The back of his head was bumping against the cabinet, for now she was 
fucking his face. Her big hips were jerking forward as if his tongue was his 
prick. His tongue was against her clit, his lips were wrapped firmly around 
it, and she was fucking it steadily. He loved it. She did, too. That was 
obvious, for she was saying obscene things and muttering and whimpering. She 
was churning her body all around now in the throes of delight, while he went 
on sucking her cunt and hugging her big hips as hard as he could. He fumbled 
about and jerked her apron strings open, and then he could look up through 
the shadowy gingham and see her big tits rolling down as she orgasmed for 
him. Even cunt juice was dripping down over his chin and chest, and still he 
sucked her and made her cum some more, just as she'd done for him. Even the 
light film of perspiration breaking out on her voluptuously big body was a 
delight to him, and he went right on sucking her cunt until at last she 
staggered weakly out of his hot embrace, holding onto her cunt with both 
hands and looking at him with slack-jawed adoration. 

"You really made me cum," she said. "God, you really did!" 

"Come here and I'll do it some more," he said, leaning forward and licking 
his lips lasciviously. 

She closed her eyes and shivered, still holding onto her cunt through the 
thin wet folds of her apron. "Jesus, I'm still cumming a little." 

"I'll make it a lot," he said, going forward at her on his knees. "Just like 
you made me cum a lot this morning in bed. Lie down if you want to, but I 
want to make you cum some more, Mom. Man, I really like it when you cum." 

She immediately laid down on the kitchen floor, rucked up her apron skirt 
about her waist, spread her lovely legs and reached out to him with both 
arms. "No, fuck me," she said. "Oh, how I want to get fucked by you now, 
right now!" 

Her cunt was wide open, pink and glistening. He climbed right aboard her 
lush, hot body and slipped his prick right into it. She moaned pitifully, 
joyfully, and she threw her arms and legs around him, quivering everywhere 
and throwing her hips up to meet his quick, sure entry. 

"You still cumming, Mom?" he asked, grinding his throbbing cock deep inside 
her. 

She couldn't answer him. She couldn't speak. She could only gasp and groan 
and shudder and throw her hips up to meet each of his hard jabs into her 
body until starbursts of dazzling light were accompanying the waves of deep 
pleasure surging everywhere in her body. Glen gloated over her. His spirit 
soared with the knowledge of what power he held over this woman who had been 
such an enduring influence on his life, and with that soaring of the spirit, 
his body took off soaring, too. 

It started with his balls, ripped up through his anal area and spurted out 
through his prick, sending shock waves of sheer delight tumbling everywhere 
through his body. Each orgasm he had with her seemed better than the last 
one. This one he could feel in every bone, in every hair, in every cell of 
his body. And each time he orgasmed with his mother, he had more of his 
senses remaining to him, somehow. As intense as his delights were, he was 
able to see her and feel her and smell her even as his guts were spurting 
out through the end of his pistoning prick. He fucked her till his semen and 
her cunt juices were foaming and bubbling out of her cunt around his 
cockshaft, and at last they wilted and slowed to a halt, grinning broadly at 
each other, kissing fondly. 

Betty's legs flopped down on the kitchen floor and she exhaled heavily, her 
body deflating under his weight. "Oh, wow w-w, she said. "That was a good 
one." 

"Gets better every time." 

"I know. It scares me to think ahead." 

"I'm thinking ahead already," he said. "When can we do it again?" 

"Do you want to fuck your poor old mother to death?" 

"I'd like to try," he said, and stirred his cock in her flooded pussy. 

"Mm-m-m-m," she purred, and undulated her hips for him. 

They were just merging into another preliminary kiss when Betty vigorously 
shoved him away, saying, "Look out! Let me up! My cookies are burning!!!" 

 CHAPTER SEVEN 

The next morning Betty woke Glen up with another blow-job. She stealthily 
sneaked into his room, fearing that her pounding heart might awaken him 
prematurely, and peeled back his covers with hands that were trembling with 
excitement. 

His prick was standing up magnificently, young and strong, the color of pink 
and white roses. Though his eyes were still closed in slumber, the single 
eye of his prick was wide awake and staring at her, waiting for its 
good-morning kiss. 

She obliged it with a tenderness that subdued her eagerness to a point where 
she'd tasted him thoroughly before he came awake. "Oh, Mom," he said, and 
laid his hand on her head. She went on sucking him, kissing him, neither of 
them saying a word until she'd brought the butterflies to life all inside 
his skin and had him moaning with happiness and pouring succulent life from 
his lovely hard young prick into her lustful old body. 

She had slept unusually well, but ever since the alarm had gone off at six 
she'd been thinking about tasting him-all the way. It was the second time 
she'd given him that early morning gift of love, and she hoped it would 
become a traditional way of her waking him up each morning. She'd looked 
forward to sucking him off while she was showering, dressing, preparing for 
breakfast, going through all her waking movements, and she hadn't been a bit 
disappointed with the experience when it had finally come about. She wanted 
more now, but she knew she shouldn't carry things to excess. She wanted him 
to kiss her aching pussy and then fuck it as thoroughly and lovingly as he 
had the evening before, but she refused to carry their illicit love to any 
excess. 

She wanted to keep him in the house with her forever, running around naked, 
teasing each other, fucking and sucking whenever the whim came upon them, 
but she also wanted to extend their love affair and make it last as long as 
she could. She knew the dangers of burning out one's passion. That had 
happened with Glen's father, and it wouldn't happen with him if she could 
help it. His father was gone-hopefully forever-and for as long as she could 
she'd keep Glen for her lover as well as her son. She knew someday he'd 
leave her, but that was in some far distant time that she couldn't really 
think about at the moment. 

She gave him a nice breakfast, and she sent him off to school with an even 
nicer kiss. She knew he'd think about her that day, but he couldn't possibly 
think about her as much as she'd be thinking about him. Though she was quite 
madly in love with her son, she could still think about their future 
rationally, for she was mature. He lived for the moment, without a thought 
to the future. But she, with her husband and his income gone, had to think 
and reason and look ahead beyond the next torrid embrace with him. 

And that wasn't all so easy to do, for her body hungered for him mightily. 
She had made oral love to him that morning at the expense of her own needs. 
If she'd followed her inclinations and jumped in bed with him, they'd still 
be fucking now, and he would have missed this day of school. If they'd slept 
in the same bed, they'd both still be snoring now. She had to meter out 
their sex together. That wasn't easy on her, for her body was in a constant 
state of hunger for more of him. 

It wasn't easy at all to deprive herself of his ready availability, but on 
the other hand the constant state of horniness she was now experiencing made 
for a great many moments of highly pleasurable reminiscences and 
speculations. 

When the breakfast dishes were done and her morning household chores were 
well under way, Betty curled up in a chair with a cigarette and a smile and 
thought back to the evening before. 

Glen had had his homework to do, and despite his amorous protests, she had 
insisted that he do it. She'd quietly looked in on him as he'd sat at his 
desk, fully clothed, and labored over his books. She'd been tempted to 
tiptoe in and place a warm, tingling kiss on the nape of his neck, but she'd 
refrained. Instead, she'd just peeped in on him from time to time, can of 
beer in one hand, pussy in the other. She'd been more than ready for him 
when he'd completed his assignments, but she had inspected his work prior to 
anything else. . 

She'd given him a kiss for every correct answer he had in his algebra 
homework, and she'd massaged his thighs while she'd read his history 
assignment. She had sat on his lap and let him play with her tits while she 
read his book review aloud, and by then they'd both been quite ready for 
their first good fuck of many in his room. She had felt like an encore and 
of course so had he, but she'd wisely held back and gone to her own bed and 
played with herself just a bit before falling into a deep, smiling sleep. It 
had been a lovely evening, and she looked forward to an even lovelier one 
that night. 

She would give him a nice warm bath. She would fill the tub with hot water 
and bubbles, and she would grope for and find his strong young prick while 
she washed him. She would dress like a bath-house attendant, with nothing on 
but a towel, and when he emerged from his steaming tub they'd fuck and suck 
there on the warm tile floor of the bathroom. 

Or perhaps she'd play the pornographer's model again that night. He had 
certainly enjoyed that, and she had, too. She had other lingerie to wear 
that would equally arouse him. She might go out and purchase some new stuff, 
panties and bras and even corsets, things that her husband had never seen or 
touched, things especially for her newer, better, younger lover. 

And then she thought again about what all this might do to him, and it made 
her frown and chew on her lip. As delightful and exciting and wondrous as it 
was, there was a definite sin in incest. Not only The Holy Bible said so. 
All the books did, including the law books. Of course she could say it was 
all her fault if they got caught and take the consequences herself. She'd be 
glad to go to jail for her son, her lover, but what would that do to him? 
There was no real way of telling that, of course. The thing to do was very 
simple-just don't get caught. But still they could get caught. Jail for her, 
psychological trauma for him. Was it worth the risk? She went and got a beer 
from the refrigerator, and over the second of those, she decided that, yes, 
it was. The decision made, she went on to make plans for their evening 
together. 

She thought about it all the time she was doing her housework. She thought 
about her son, and how she could please him-and herself. She thought about 
it some more while she was out doing her shopping, and after she'd purchased 
her groceries and put them in the car she window shopped for something that 
might titillate her son, and herself. She looked and looked and at last she 
splurged and spent over fifty dollars on a snowy white negligee of the type 
that brides traditionally lose their virginity in. She had long ago lost her 
virginity, speaking strictly technically, but the freshness and youth of her 
new lover made her feel even more virginal than she had at eighteen as she 
walked out of the store with the beribboned box under her arm. 

Driving home, perspiring with excitement, she thought of how she'd do it. Be 
motherly but not loverly when he got home from school. Have him do his 
homework early, while she prepared a truly gourmet dinner. Serve it in her 
bedroom, while he was dressed in his best, newly ironed pajamas, and she 
wafted about the room in her new negligee. They'd both be so excited they 
could barely eat, but the food would be so good they'd gobble it up, while 
they gobbled each other up with their eyes. No more cookies for her man when 
he got home that day. She'd thaw some thick steaks, garnish them with fresh 
mushrooms, precede it with a crabmeat cocktail and follow it with some heavy 
fucking for dessert. She'd serve a Caesar salad before the steaks and baked 
potatoes with sour cream and chives and melted cheese with them, asparagus 
on the side smothered in Hollandaise sauce, and some heavy necking between 
the courses. 

Their knees would fuck under the table and their eyes would fuck across it 
as he poured Chateau Lafitte Rothschild claret into their crystal wedding 
goblets, the ones she'd received as a gift when she'd married his father, 
but had rarely used. 

She'd polish up her best silver for this special meal and serve it on a 
linen-covered card table in their future bedroom, while he'd be polishing up 
his prick with his hand under the table and devouring her with his eyes as 
they ate, gravy dripping off their chins, sex juices dripping off their 
organs. Then they'd fuck. God, they'd fuck and fuck and fuck. No school for 
him tomorrow, and no housework for her. A day away from their routines 
wouldn't hurt either of them, and both simply had to take the edge off their 
sexual appetites. She stopped on the way home and bought him a new pair of 
pajamas of light blue linen. They were very soft and smooth. 

They were very expensive, too, but she didn't give a damn about how to pay 
for them. That would take care of itself once she'd become the hard-working, 
hard-loving wife of her son. 

 CHAPTER EIGHT 

Betty felt dizzy with desire that afternoon as she went about the business 
of getting ready for their very special evening meal. A glass or two of wine 
while she worked seemed to help. It wasn't the imported French vintage wine 
which she drank while she worked. It was just ordinary table wine, the same 
they'd be drinking that night, the only kind she'd be able to afford in the 
future with Glen. He had years to go in school. 

She'd have to support both of them, perhaps move to an apartment, get a job 
of course, sweat and slave, keep their illicit household and their hungry 
bodies together until he could support them as Paul had. She had no 
illusions about Paul ever returning. She knew very well by then that once 
the parent had tasted sex with the child, there was no returning to any 
other kind of sexual satisfaction. Even more realistically, she knew that 
there was and never would be satisfaction in having sex with Glen. 
Immediately after each time they had sex, she was hungry for more of it. So 
was he. For the rest of their lives together they'd either be having sex or 
hungering for it, and was there any better way to go through life? In the 
midst of preparing her own nuptial meal in the familiar kitchen that her 
husband had bought for her, she threw back her head and laughed at her 
future, and in the midst of her laughter her son appeared in the doorway and 
she felt almost ill with desire for the innocently smiling, totally 
forbidden boy. 

"What are you doing home so early?" she asked, amazed at the calm in her 
voice. "Did you cut school?" 

"Yep," he said. "I got to thinking about you so much it was either cut 
school or jack off right in class, so here I am. Mom, let's fuck," he said, 
and advanced on her with a look in his young eyes that was as old as the 
earth itself, and far more exciting. 

"There will be no cutting school in the future, Glen," she said, and met his 
open mouth with hers. 

He began at once to open her blouse. His fingers were quick, no longer 
clumsy with her buttons. She didn't have to help him a bit with them, and so 
her hands were free to caress his back and to draw down the zipper of his 
pants and reach within. 

His cock was good and hard. Betty knew in advance it would be, but that 
didn't stop the lovely thrill that went through her when her hand closed 
around his hard cock. The open-mouthed, tongue-twirling kiss went on and on. 
It continued while Glen's trousers were dropped to the floor and while he 
helped Betty out of her blouse. She pushed his pants down over his hips, 
letting his boycock spring forth, and still their languidly sensual kiss 
continued. He reached around her and unhooked her bra straps, and by leaning 
back just a little she was able to pull her empty brassiere out from between 
them. Only the proximity of her bare tits was enough to draw his lips away 
from her mouth. 

He crouched lower and began sucking on their waiting nipples. She lifted 
their milky weight up to his handsome young face, smiling down at his 
kisses, noting with delight that her hard nipples were the exact color of 
his pursed lips. While he was lustily kissing her titties he was also 
running his hand back and forth through her crotch. She took a wider stance 
for this. She was amazed at how she felt. All day long she'd anticipated 
being with him, and now that it was finally happening, it was far, far 
better than she'd thought it would be in her vivid imaginings. 

"Jesus Christ, I sure do love your tits, Mom," he babbled, and ran his 
fingers over them, making her almost faint with a sudden surge of desire. 

"And they love your hands," she said, and pushed them harder into his 
possession, wincing a bit but loving the sharp sensations from his strong 
little fingers. 

"Let's fuck," he said, mauling her tits. 

"We'll get around to that." 

"And suck." 

"That, too. We have plenty of time now, Glen. There was no need to cut 
school." 

"I didn't cut it," he said with an impishly arrogant grin. "I quit it." 

"What?" The sensations-or at least most of them-were suddenly gone. She 
grabbed him by the shoulders and pushed him away, saying, "What was that, 
young man?" 

"I said I quit school. I'm going to get a job so you don't have to go to 
work now that Dad's gone." 

Blind fury raged in her, and he saw it in her face. That scared him more 
than the sudden shaking she gave him. Tits bouncing heavily, she shook him 
very hard and snapped, "Get that crazy idea out of your head! You're going 
to finish school, young man! 

"I'm not! I'm not!" he replied, teeth chattering with the shaking and with 
his fear, but determined to carry out his plan of action. "I'm going to get 
a job! I'm going to support us! Mom, listen to me!" 

"Like hell you are!" she said, and slapped him across the face. 

She hadn't struck him in years. His hand flew to his cheek and his face 
turned a bright red. Tears started, and then his face clouded with anger and 
he swung his hand up wildly and slapped his mother's face. 

It shocked him more than it did her. He was immediately apologizing while 
she calmly fluffed up her hair, listening coolly while he ranted and rambled 
about his plans to take over as the bread-winning head of the household. He 
was still talking when she walked around him and headed toward her bedroom. 
"I can get a good job, Mom! Maybe two! I can support us; I know I can. I 
don't want you going to work. Mom, listen to me!" 

She went to the dresser top where the box containing her bridal negligee 
was. She reached past this and picked up the hairbrush, turned and faced him 
with it in her hand, bare-breasted, beautiful, stony-faced and smoldering 
with anger. 

His grin was a little wary as he looked from her face to her bare tits to 
the hairbrush and back again. "What are you going to do with that?" 

"Nothing, if you promise me you'll be back in school tomorrow." 

"Only thing I want to be in is you," he said, and bent and kissed each of 
her nipples. They'd gone soft now, and not quite so exciting to kiss. Still 
their texture was lovely, and he was confident that a few more of his warm 
kisses would bring them back to life and bring her around to his way of 
thinking about their future together. 

"Stop that, Glen," she said, her voice as cool as a January dawn. "Stop that 
and get ready for your paddling." 

"Me? You gotta be kidding," he said, and dropped to his knees and began 
kissing her pussy through the tight fabric of her jeans. He blew his hot 
breath through the cloth, knowing she'd respond at any moment. He hugged her 
hips and fondled her thighs, confident that his love for her would overcome 
all. She pushed him away and went to the bed. She sat down on its edge, 
stiff-backed, tits proudly erect, hairbrush slapping impatiently at her 
knee. "Come over here and lay across my lap, Glen." 

"No," he said, laughing nervously. "I won't do it. I'm too big to get 
spanked. I'm big enough to fuck you now," he said, and came to stand before 
her, naked prick pointing at her, inviting her, tempting her. 

She pointed at her soft, clamped thighs and said, "Lie down." 

"No, darn it! I'm sorry I slapped you, but I'm not sorry I'm quitting 
school." 

"You are going back to school tomorrow, and that is absolutely final. I 
forgive you for slapping me, but you're going to get this spanking. You need 
it." 

"Like heck," he said, scowling now, and nervously moving his hands over his 
bare buttocks. "I won't fuck you any more if you keep this up, Mom." 

She nodded her head solemnly. "That's right. No more obedience, no more 
fucking. Lie down." 

"If ... if you spank me, I'll tell what we've been doing!" 

"Your discipline is more important than my going to jail. Lie down, Glen." 

"OH, SHIT!" he yelled, and threw himself down across her lap. Her thighs 
were terrifically soft and smooth, but he ignored their caressing touch 
against his bare belly. Her hand on his bottom was very stimulating, but he 
didn't react to it. He remained completely stoic while she peeled off his 
white T-shirt, leaving him completely naked, and he planned to maintain his 
stoicism throughout the humiliating ordeal of getting spanked like a child. 
A few spanks with the hairbrush, some more talk, his agreement to return to 
school on a part time basis, and then they'd fuck the night away just as 
he'd planned. 

WHACK! The first blow was hard, more so than he'd expected, but he hardly 
flinched at all. 

WHACK! 

"Hey, take it easy, Mom." Already his asscheeks tingled and burned and felt 
like they were swelling up. 

WHACK, WHACK, WHACK, WHACK, WHACK! 

"MOM!" STOP, I'LL GO BACK TO SCHOOL!" 

WHACK, WHACK, WHACK, WHACK, WHACK, WHACK, WHACK, WHACK! 

He was screaming and bawling, completely out of control, writhing in agony 
on her lap and begging her to stop. His ass felt as big as a giant 
watermelon and about to burst like a ripe one. It burned with the searing 
pain of her powerful chastisement. Twist and squirm as he might against 
those lovely cushions of her thighs, he couldn't escape the rain of blows 
that he knew very well he deserved. 

At last she tossed the brush aside and shoved him off her lap onto the 
floor. Cringing and weeping, clinging to her knees and looking up through 
his tears at her lovely, shimmering face, he blubbered, "Mom, I'm sorry, I'm 
sorry. I'll go to school, college, anything you say. I'll never hit you 
again. I'll always be good, always!" 

Stone-faced, she pushed him away and rose from the bed. There was hope in 
his eyes as he looked up past her luscious big tits to her face now, for her 
fingers were working at the waistband of her jeans. "You know you deserved 
that spanking," she said. 

"I know it! I'm sorry, Mom. I'll always be good from now on. I'll do 
anything you want me to." 

She peeled down her jeans, and the hope in his heart blazed brightly. Now 
she was wearing nothing but some pretty pink panties. As she snugged them up 
about her very full and very beautiful hips, Glen would have been more than 
content to simply follow her around like a puppy all evening, looking at the 
erotic loveliness of her constantly jiggling big tits and her well-packed 
pink nylon panties. 

But she straightened up, towering over him like a gigantic sex goddess, and 
she was running her thumb back and forth inside the tight waistband of her 
panties as she said, "I want you to kiss my cunt, Glen." 

"Oh, Mom!" he exclaimed, and threw himself at her, face first. 

She pushed him away. "I want you to kiss it really good, Glen." 

"Really really good! All night long! Just the way you like it best! Your 
fanny, too! Mom, I love you, Hove you!!!" 

"You're going to have to prove that," she said, and turned her back to pull 
her panties down. 

He waited, trembling and licking his lips, hands on his knees and burning 
buttocks on his heels. Her ass had never looked more beautiful. It was 
creamy white, with just a hint of pink showing everywhere in it. The crack 
in it was absolutely intriguing, separating the two perfect hemispheres she 
was presenting to his view. It was beautiful, it was smooth, and it was big. 

She bent at the waist and parted the lovely globes, and now for the first 
time he saw there was a light fringe of curly blonde hairs that reached up 
from her cunt bush to a few inches above her asshole. The little pink mouth 
inside those hairs was waiting for him, as unsmiling as her face had been, 
but nonetheless attractive. 

"Don't touch me yet with anything but your tongue," she said. "Begin." 

At .first it was clumsy kissing her there without being able to hug her, but 
he soon became used to that. Without being able to use his hands, he 
concentrated more on his kisses, his face buried deep between the lovely big 
globes she was holding open for him, his tongue tickling deftly all around 
and within the sweet puckered mouth of her behind. The only signs of 
response she made to his most arduous kisses, however, was a slight swaying 
of her body, and so he put even more passion in his mouthings. 

The mirror over her dresser helped him. From the farthest corner of his eye 
he was able to see her reflection in it, and his. 

He was kneeling behind her, of course, hands locked behind his back, prick 
up hard, face almost completely obscured in the sweeping curvature of her 
ass. She was bent over at the waist, hands resting comfortably on her knees, 
looking down at the floor. 

Her tits looked simply huge. They were hanging straight down, with their 
warm liquid weight making them very bulbous and beautiful. Her hair was 
hanging down too, but he could see her face. That was equally as beautiful 
as her tits, for there was a slight smile on it now, and the ends of her 
tits were definitely getting hard. He was doing some good with her, 
regaining some of the points he'd lost, and without her permission he placed 
his hands on her smooth, smooth hips to aid him in delivering even more 
pleasure to this most wonderful woman in the world. 

He thought he heard her purr and he thought he felt her cum, but he couldn't 
be sure. All that mattered was that she wasn't stopping him. Her asshole was 
a pure delight to kiss and lick, but he was developing a great longing to 
kiss her pussy, and thus he wasn't too disappointed when at last she 
straightened up and turned around. 

Yes, there was definitely a smile on her lips. It was small but it was 
there, indicating that he had indeed pleased her and that she'd already 
forgiven him for touching her without her permission. At any minute now she 
was going to let him kiss her cunt. 

He waited breathlessly for that command while she stood artfully before him, 
one hand idly fondling her tits, and other behind her where he couldn't see 
it, roving over her lovely bottom. 

"Lie down on your back, Glen," she said. 

"Sure, Mom. Anything you say." 

He threw himself onto his back on the carpet, wincing a little. "Is your 
fanny still sore?" she asked. 

"A little," he said. In fact it was flaming hot, and quite sore from the 
touch of the rough carpet. The sight of her standing ten feet tall over him 
erased any real discomfort from his pain. 

She stepped over him to stand astraddle his naked body. His prick strained 
up at her, but it was only his eyes that could touch her cunt, all wet and 
pink and golden, and soon to be his again. She parted its puffed lips with 
one hand and lightly caressed her gleaming slick slit with the fingers of 
the other while he waited, and waited. He couldn't see anything but her cunt 
as she moved forward. Soon it was directly above his rapt face, and then it 
began to descend on him. It grew lovelier with every increasing inch of its 
proximity, and when it was a foot away from his extended tongue he lost 
control of himself, reached up and helped her to sit down on his face. 

He was being smothered then by the most delicious cunt in the world. It was 
all darkness and warmth, and he was joyously buried in it. Her scent was 
almost overwhelming, with far more substance to it than any bottled perfume 
could ever hope to have. Her taste was succulent, inspiring him to put his 
tongue to the very best use. Her pliable softness was such that his face was 
completely covered by her sex flesh. Her textures, the little soft shapes of 
her organs were so very delightful that Glen was quite content to smother to 
death, just as long as he could remain where he was for a little longer. 

But the lovely soft weight was lifted from his face, and cool air rushed in, 
bringing with it a great lungful of her marvelous scent. The big loaves of 
her buttocks settled most comfortable on his chest and her open cunt was 
still there within easy range of his hungry tongue. 

She took his face in her hands, and looking up through the gap between her 
lovely big tits, he saw she was smiling warmly at him, and his heart soared 
high. 

"That was nice, honey," she said. "That was just awful nice." 

"Did you cum, Mom?" 

She nodded smugly, and his grin broadened. 

"I guess you've forgiven me then, huh?" 

In answer she slid her wet cunt down his body, over his chest and belly, 
toward his throbbing prick. She encircled his head with her arms and gave 
him a kiss that he would never forget, totally impassioned, communicating 
things they didn't have to say in words, thoroughly tasting the sex they'd 
already had together and promising more, much more. And while her mouth was 
kissing his, her cunt was kissing his prick. He had no idea how she did it 
or even if he was completely inside her, but her big hips writhed sensuously 
on his, her legs intertwined with his, and his prick felt the wetness and 
warmth of her squirming cunt. He began to shoot. Milky cum poured and flowed 
out of him as she ground her cunt against him, ground her mouth against him, 
ground his sore ass against the carpet. There was little of the intensity 
that he'd felt in orgasm with her before, but the joys were certainly there. 
They just flowed and flowed, along with his prick, quite endlessly, 
miraculously. They flowed from him into her. He could very definitely feel 
her cumming with him as they remained locked tightly in the mute embrace, 
their straining bodies speaking eloquently. 

At last it was she who drew back from the kiss. "Whew ww w! That was 
something special." 

"I want to eat you some more. I want to fuck you some more." 

She pinched his cheek. "Greedy little pig." She smiled and kissed him very 
hotly, and said, "Yes, I want you to fuck me. Stay hard. Stay hard for me, 
Glen." 

"Always, Mom," he said, and watched as she rose up on his body. 

His prick was inside her. Her cunt had captured it very effectively without 
any help from her hands while they'd been kissing. He saw its impalement 
quite clearly as she sat up, straddling his loins, big tits swinging, a look 
of breathless concentration on her face. 

"Got to have this. Got to," she said, and she braced herself on his chest 
with both hands and started moving her body, all of it. 

She was soon quivering like jelly everywhere, not just in her tits, but 
everywhere. Her back was arched forward to rasp her clit against his 
stationary cock, forming a delightful fat curve to her shaking belly as she 
bounced up and down on his hot rod. The pads of fat around her thighs and 
hips were shaking madly with her fucking and even her upper arms were all 
aquiver as she fucked him hard and good. She was biting her lip and knitting 
her brow in concentration on the joys they were feeling together, and it all 
combined to prime his stiff prick for another orgasm, this one in perfect 
conjunction with the big, big thing abuilding in her. 

"Go, Mom! Go!" he said, grabbing her hips to help her along. 

"Can't stop!" she gasped. "God, I just can't stop cumming!" 

"More! Harder!" he commanded, grabbing her tits in both hands, squeezing her 
hard there and feeling their bouncing heaviness. 

"Look at me!" she panted. "Remember this!" 

"I am! I will!" he said, bucking up under her now, wonderfully amazed at 
seeing all this beautiful woman flesh in motion at the same time. 

"So big! So big!" she groaned, gyrating her hips in circular movements over 
him now, gushing out her orgasmic wetness all over his balls. 

"Bigger! BIGGER!" he shouted, squeezing and fucking harder, caught up with 
the madness of her pleasures. 

She started snapping her hips forward and back, recapturing their former 
motion together. She was yelling, "OH! OH! NNNGGG!" He was snarling and 
crying out too, but he hardly knew what words he was saying, as orgasm after 
orgasm robbed him of much of his comprehension. 

But he did hear himself shout, right at the height of another big orgasm, 
"Eat it! Lemme eat it again!" 

"God, YES!" she shouted. "SIXTY-NINE! Right now, Glen. RIGHT NOW!" 

Her body was a blur of pale softness as she whipped her hips off his flowing 
prick and squirmed about on the floor to present them to his reaching face. 
At the same time he was turning about to give his prick to her mouth. They 
met and locked, sucking each other immediately, even as their arms and legs 
were getting positioned for the classic pleasures of mutual oral fucking. 
Together they rolled about on the floor sucking and kissing with their 
mouths, fucking with their hips, in a delirium of the maddest pleasure and 
joy imaginable. Neither knew who was on top or who was on the bottom, and 
their positions were changing constantly. Their faces were all over each 
other's crotches, covered with sex juices, avidly seeking more. When her 
body suddenly went rigid, Glen went right on with his mad kissing, and it 
was only the little scream that finally stopped him. 

"EEK! Daddy, what are they doing?" 

"My God! They're having sex together!" said a masculine voice, and Glen 
looked up from between his mother's legs to see his father standing in the 
bedroom doorway beside his half-sister, Debbie. 

 CHAPTER NINE 

Paul and Debbie made their unexpected appearance on a Friday. What followed 
was a somber and-with one exception-a quiet weekend at the McCall residence. 
The exception came when Paul McCall took his son into the bathroom and 
thrashed him soundly with his belt. Brave little Glen made very few 
outcries, but each slap of Paul's thick leather belt made Betty's heart cry 
out in anguish. That was the worst part of it all, hearing those terrible 
sounds coming from the bathroom, knowing it was all her fault Glen was being 
punished so severely, and being unable to do anything about it. She had been 
unable to defend herself, let alone young Glen. 

What defense could she have when she'd been caught red-handed in the act of 
incest with her fifteen-year-old son? Paul had taken her into their bedroom 
and spoken to her in very serious tones. 

He was shocked, appalled at what she'd done. He spoke at great lengths about 
her perverting his son, and all she could do was nod her head with downcast 
eyes and say it was all her fault. He told her he could have her arrested, 
could divorce her, leave her without a penny, drive her out of town in 
disgrace, and she said she knew, and that she was sorry. 

"Sorry?" he'd said. "What good does sorry do? That boy's liable to be ruined 
for life, and you say you're sorry. I ought to break your neck, but that 
wouldn't do any good. You're too old for learning through corporal 
punishment. Glen isn't." 

In the ensuing conversation she'd gotten down on her knees, entreating him 
to spare her son the ordeal of a whipping at his hands, all to no avail. She 
threw herself on his mercy, and he showed her absolutely none of that. And 
so in tears, with Debbie smugly ensconced in a chair in the living room, 
Betty had heard those terrible sounds of her son being forced to atone for 
her sins. She sincerely thought for a while that Paul was going to beat Glen 
to death or at least to a hospital, and she was just about to pound on the 
door and plead again for mercy when the beating was over with. Even Debbie 
was looking warily at the bathroom door when it at last opened. Glen came 
out walking stiffly, grim-faced, with tear-streaked cheeks-but as he passed 
his mother he gave her a covert wink of his eye. 

That made Betty feel considerably better, but she knew she was still in big 
trouble. From then on, she knew, Paul would be able to hold her sins over 
her head like a club. She'd have to put up with anything he did in the 
future, and if the past was any indication, she'd be putting up with a lot. 
Binges, infidelities, sudden disappearances, these would soon become 
commonplace in the McCall household. Betty would have to bear all of these 
indignities and more. She'd have to do so without even the comfort she'd 
found in the arms of her son. And she'd have to do it while she blandly put 
up with Paul's affair with his daughter Debbie. 

Although Paul had a decent enough alibi for their sudden disappearance, 
there was no doubt in Betty's mind that they'd been shacked up in some cheap 
motel during their absence. "We went on a trip to look for Debbie's mother. 
She called here, in trouble, and we left you a note on the television and 
just took off. We never did find her, but look, here's the note we left. It 
fell down behind the set." 

Betty knew very well they were lying. She could recognize the illicit look 
of fully requited lust that passed between them with almost open arrogance. 
She knew her husband, and she saw the signs of the licentious little tramp 
in his daughter, and she knew very well what had happened. While she and 
Glen were out, Paul had plied his daughter and himself with a few beers. 
Affectionate pats had turned into caresses and they'd started to get it on 
right there in the house. Fearing Betty's return, they'd slipped out for a 
quickie in the woods, and one fuck had led to another until they'd spent 
three whole days doing exactly what she and Glen had been doing. 

She knew about them-but they had the proof of her incestuous affair with her 
son. Now they had her in their power, and they weren't shy about exerting 
that power over the weekend. 

Debbie had helped a little around the house when she'd first arrived there 
after a series of aimless wanderings around the country. Now the 
seventeen-year-old girl didn't lift a finger to aid in the running of the 
house. Betty even had to do her laundry. There wasn't much of it, 
considering they were supposedly on a three-day trip. There were, however, 
several pieces of new and very fragile lingerie of the type Paul used to buy 
for Betty when they were first married. 

When Betty held the wispy garments to her nose, they fairly reeked of sex, 
confirming her suspicions to the letter. Betty stoically washed for them and 
cooked for them and cleaned up after them. 

Glen helped her when he could, but at these times his father usually 
appeared and ordered him away from his mother's side. Paul kept a 
sanctimonious eye on them or sat comfortably on the couch with his daughter, 
holding hands with her, watching the television, calling for Betty to bring 
them another pair of cold beers. It was all too humiliating for words, and 
then Glen exceeded his cruelty by replacing Betty with Debbie in their 
marital bed. 

"I won't be wanting to sleep with you again, Betty, not for a long long 
time. And I'm a little afraid to have Debbie alone in a bed at night here 
with you and Glen wandering around. So you're changing places with Debbie at 
night. You'll be sleeping on the couch and Debbie will be sleeping in our 
bed. I'll pitch my sleeping bag across the doorway of our room just in case 
you or your sex maniac son get any wild ideas and try to sneak in and seduce 
my little girl during the night." 

Paul had made his announcement with a straight face just before bed time on 
Friday. Betty had accepted it meekly, Glen had scowled and looked away, and 
snippy little Debbie had smirked and rolled her big brown eyes up at the 
ceiling. 

Not that she was so little. She was a tall, willowy young woman. True, she 
had slim hips and her breasts were no larger than apples, but her long, 
slender waist made it clearly known that she was a fully developed woman, 
and not the little girl that Paul made her out to be. She had an 
impertinently upturned nose and her lips were rather thin, but her face was 
pretty enough for a girl her age. She had that long, straight brown hair of 
the hippy that Betty detested and she wore hippy-type clothes which 
detracted from her appearance, but Betty grudgingly admitted she was quite 
attractive. She was attractive enough to seduce her own father, the little 
tramp, and to make Betty's son cast calf's eyes at her when she walked by in 
her tight frayed denim cut-offs. 

Betty couldn't blame Glen. He was young and didn't know how to disguise his 
yearning looks at females as yet. It didn't occur to the innocent boy that 
it was his father's paramour, not just his daughter, that he was ogling. And 
it didn't bother Glen that those were incestuous thoughts running through 
his head each time he looked at Debbie that way, for Betty had taught him 
there was nothing wrong with a little incest. Betty couldn't blame Glen for 
his lustful looks at Debbie, but she could blame Debbie. 

The girl deliberately walked in an enticing manner all the time. She was 
constantly practicing an alluring lilt to her round little bottom and an 
undulating roll to her hips as she walked around the house with her little 
pointy titties barely covered by a skimpy little T-shirt without any 
sleeves. On her hitch-hiking tours of the country she'd acquired a very even 
tan on her long, slender legs, but unlike other hippie girls, she kept her 
legs closely shaven. They were as smooth as Betty's, and considerably darker 
and firmer. 

She was, Betty admitted, a very attractive girl, and she knew it and she 
flaunted it. It was simply disgusting to see her walking around with a can 
of beer in her hand, teasing poor Glen. Or sitting on the sofa in front of 
the television, sipping beer, feet propped up on the coffee table, idly 
opening and closing her legs. Glen would see her and his poor little 
starving pecker would get hard as could be in his pants, and then Debbie 
would go blithely off to bed with her father. Disgusting, but there was 
nothing Betty could do about it at the moment. 

If she had any doubts about what they were doing in bed, these were 
dispelled just an hour after they had closed the door behind them. Betty 
waited on the couch for just as long as she could and then crept into the 
hall. She heard giggles, moans, gasps, muffled outcries of perverted 
pleasures being shared in her bed, and that was simply too much to bear. 
This happened on both Friday and Saturday night, and each time Betty 
returned to her miserably lonely couch and tossed and turned the night away. 
On Sunday night when it happened again she felt it was safe enough to slip 
into Glen's room for a frantic but sadly silent half-hour of very comforting 
sex with him. It was only then, lying in his arms after some very calming 
sucking and fucking, that she came up with a plan that might salvage the 
remnants of her household and her life. When she whispered her plan into the 
ear of her son, she could see him smile his agreement to it even in the 
darkness of his bedroom. And his smile turned her on, especially under their 
circumstances, what with his father and half-sister openly shacking up in 
the same house, fucking and sucking and then sanctimoniously lording it over 
them for their indiscretion. 

Their plan set, they both relaxed somewhat, and with that came a degree of 
lust, plus the added spice of danger, and the danger was the possibility of 
being caught together for the second time. Betty reached for her son's 
rising boy prick, her fingers slithering up his smooth, hairless thighs. 

Glen gasped with the excitement of her touch as her cool fingers found and 
encircled his hot young cock, dangling it and drawing it out to an even 
greater length. Sensations of ecstasy flowed through him from the point 
where her fondling fingers caressed his sensitive cock flesh. It felt so 
good, he wanted to cry out his pleasure, but the knowledge of his father and 
half-sister lying in the next room kept him silent. He didn't want another 
thrashing like the previous one. And he still didn't entirely understand the 
reasoning behind that beating. Why had his father beat him for having fun 
with his mother? Was something that was mutually pleasurable to both of them 
punishable? 

Betty was, meanwhile, losing herself in this erotic moment, pulling and 
jacking this delicious young boy cock, fondling and rubbing the purple-red 
pulsing crown of her son's young glory. As he came to full erection, Betty 
slid up her son's thighs, bringing her empty hungering mouth closer to its 
natural target. Lewdly she licked his inner thigh, dragging her wet 
caressing tongue across the sensitive hump under his nearly hairless 
scrotum. Her tongue gently washed his sac, rolling his maturing testicles in 
their fleshy bag, and his little cock fairly cried out its need to be 
sucked. 

Drawing little circles on his hairless groin, Betty's tongue bumped and 
touched her son's throbbing young cock but didn't directly attack it. And 
then, when he couldn't stifle his moans any more, she took his tumescent 
cockhead between her wet sucking lips. Gently she rotated her head, making 
small circles with his prick, causing him to clutch her head in exquisite 
agony. 

When he was at the peak of want, she suddenly slurped up the whole length of 
his hard-on, drawing it fully into her hot mouth and sucking it furiously. 
Her tongue lashed the length of his throbbing bone as her lips sucked and 
pulled on the mobile skin of his cock shaft. Sucking noises and heavy 
breathing and the slide of skin on sheets were the only sound in the 
bedroom. 

Betty thrilled to her power over this hard young boy cock, her ability to 
make this little soldier stand at attention then beg for attention. Her own 
orgasm was building under the powerful stimulus of sucking an under-aged 
boy's cock, her own flesh and blood's cock! She reached under his little 
balls and tickled his scrotum and asshole with her long-nailed fingers as 
she sucked and pulled at his ready-to-burst cock. Her cuntlips writhed in 
their own need and her other hand found its way to the portals of lust, and 
she began furiously fingering herself as she sucked off her son. 

Throb! His cock jumped in her mouth, the sperm rising from his delicate 
young balls. It was coming! He was going to shoot his sticky load in her 
greedy mouth. Betty eagerly tongued and sucked his throbbing hard-on, 
wanting with all her soul to drink the boy cum from his balls. Her own 
orgasm tore through her just at the moment his cock burst, spattering the 
inside of her mouth with his precious jism, spilling over her savoring 
tongue, lubricating her wet red lips as they sucked up and down the length 
of his spurting cock. 

Lewdly she drank every drop of his milky jism, reveling in the taste and 
glorying in her own orgasm. 

 CHAPTER TEN 

Monday morning dawned hot and muggy, and the radio weatherman predicted the 
onset of a heat wave. At the breakfast table Paul delivered another of his 
sanctimonious lectures of the blessings of atoning for one's past sins, the 
joys of living the good life, and the dangers of straying so much as a 
millimeter from the straight and narrow path of chastity. He wound it up by 
saying that the next time he caught Betty and Glen so much as touching each 
other he'd kill them both on the spot. He told Debbie to keep an eye on 
them, and he gave her a big smooch on the mouth and went off to work. 

As soon as he was gone, Glen got up to help his mother with the breakfast 
dishes. Debbie remained at the table, dawdling over her fourth cup of coffee 
and a cigarette, saying, "Remember what Daddio said. No fooling around in 
the kitchen, you two." 

"He was just trying to help, Debbie," said Betty. "I'm a little overworked 
with an extra person in the house, and all this has been very ... upsetting 
to me." 

Debbie turned her head and sneered at them, looking directly at Glen's loins 
and then Betty's. She said, "Go ahead and do whatever you want, but if I see 
you touching each other, I'm supposed to tell Daddy." 

"You'd better go on to school, son," said Betty, aching to even touch his 
hand. 

"I feel like staying homer. I've got a headache," he said, and Betty felt 
just a little better, for this was a part of the plan she'd made. It was a 
safety valve in case she'd been mistaken in her evaluation of young Debbie. 

"Go on to school, Glen," she said. "You've had headaches before in the 
morning and they've always gone away. Here. I'll put two aspirins in your 
lunch bag. Bye-Bye, honey," she said, and couldn't even kiss his cheek in 
parting. 

Betty worked like a slave all that hot morning and into the early afternoon. 
She really had neglected her heavier chores during the past week of turmoil 
and now she pitched in and went at them with no letup except for a fifteen 
minute lunch break. Debbie sat on the couch during almost all of this time, 
sipping cold beer, enjoying the game shows on television and the breeze from 
the electric fan, smoking cigarettes and occasionally asking Betty to bring 
her another cold beer. She was wearing her usual attire, cut-off jeans that 
were especially frayed in the seat, and a faded and threadbare green tank 
top. She hadn't a bra on under the tank top, Betty was sure of that. Despite 
the fan breeze her top was damp with sweat, and it clung to her dainty 
little titties so intimately that an encumbering bra would clearly have 
shown through it. 

She was wearing panties, however, which was some slight testimonial to her 
personal hygiene. They were white. Betty could see them each time she passed 
through the living room, for Debbie rarely put her legs together and her 
cut-offs were very much cut off. The frayed edges of her jeans came right up 
to the bottoms of her pockets. The crotchband of her panties bulged almost 
luminously white in the deepest shadows of her olive thighs. Betty looked as 
she passed through the living room with her pails and mops, and Debbie 
smiled and went on with her lazy pursuits on that hot, muggy day. 

Betty made them sandwiches and macaroni salad. She served Debbie's on a tray 
with another can of beer and she ate hers in the kitchen with a refreshing 
glass of buttermilk. Then she filled a big glass with red table wine and 
carried it with her as she went in to see if Debbie was finished with her 
lunch. She was not, of course, and Betty returned to the kitchen and poured 
half the wine down the sink, waited for fifteen minutes and took the 
half-filled glass with her again as she picked up Debbie's dirty dishes. 

Her glass was full again when she went through the living room to the 
bathroom, and it was empty when she returned to the kitchen wearing one of 
Glen's white T-shirts and her favorite jeans, which she had just cut off so 
high that only a thin band of denim was between her legs, and the pads of 
woman flesh on her outer thighs were completely exposed to Debbie's idle 
gaze. 

The girl on the couch smiled and said, "What're you trying to do? Pretend 
you're young like me?" 

Betty paused, looked at the empty glass, smiled and said, "No, I'm just 
trying to cool off. Helluva hot day." 

She returned to the kitchen, rinsed her mouth out with warm wine and spit it 
into the sink. She refilled her glass and went into the living room, cocked 
her hip and placed her fist on it as she stared at the screen and said, 
"What's that you're looking at, Debbie?" 

"Some stupid soap opera. You cut off your jeans too short. By the time they 
get frayed, it'll be like you're wearing denim bikinis." 

"So what's wrong with that," said Betty, turning her gaze to the girl, and 
smiling languidly. Then she looked down at herself and experimentally pulled 
one diminutive pantleg even higher on her thigh. "I'm not so old I can't 
wear a bikini. I'm not too old to attract a man." 

Debbie looked at Betty's big tits, smiled and nodded. She said, "This beer 
is fillin' me up. Is that wine you're dinking? How 'bout getting me a glass 
while I go to the John." 

Betty sighed heavily, handed her step-daughter the tumbler full of wine, and 
flopped down on the couch. "Drink mine. I'm taking a break." 

Debbie tasted it and set it down. Heading for the bathroom, she was once 
again practicing her hip-rolling gait. Betty enjoyed the cool breeze from 
the fan as much as circumstances allowed while she waited. She hoped her 
timing would be right and that Glen would make his appearance at the right 
time. But before that, she hoped she could get the semi-drunk teenager in 
the properly compromising position. Betty heard Debbie's water flow and the 
toilet flush. She was looking straight at the girl's loins when she emerged 
from the bathroom. The two top buttons of her cut-offs were open, exposing a 
tiny triangle of white nylon panty just below her little navel. 

The slim young brunette sat down on the other end of the couch and put her 
feet up on the coffee table just as Betty was doing. For several moments the 
two women sprawled there in silence, and then Debbie said, "How come you're 
looking to attract another man? You've got Daddy." 

"Unh-unh. You've got Daddy, and I've got nothing but a lot of work. Hell, I 
can't even touch my own son any more, and I'm a woman who's got to have it 
once in a while." 

"Have what?" said the girl, with an exaggerated look of mock innocence on 
her impishly pretty face. 

"What you've been having with Daddy since you two split. What you had with 
him last night." 

"Oh. You mean sleep? Don't you sleep well, Mom?" 

"No. Not when I'm not getting my sex." 

"Gee," said the girl. "Does not having sex make it hard for a woman to 
sleep? If that's so, maybe I'd better just go on being a virgin for a 
while." 

Betty looked her straight in her mocking brown eyes and said, "Kid, I'm too 
tired even to laugh. I'm worn out from working, my nerves are on edge from 
getting cut off from my sex life while you and Paul are screwing each other 
silly, and I've got a damned good notion to leave right now." 

Debbie reached out and touched her hand. "Don't go. I'll start helping you 
around here pretty soon. I've never been waited on before in my life like 
this, though, and I could dig a couple more days of it." 

"The work I can stand; doing without sex I can't. And I've been doing 
without what I really dig for much too long." 

Debbie's fingers tickled over the back of Betty's hand, and the girl grinned 
and said, "What's that, Betty?" 

Betty licked her lips and looked down at her cunt, saying, "You're a virgin. 
You wouldn't understand." 

"Try me. At least I can talk about it." 

Betty took the wine from her and this time had a healthy drink of it. "I 
need to do more than talk about it," she said. "Christ, I've done without it 
for so damned long I forgot how good it was till I'd taught Glen how to do 
it. Now ... well, now I'm not about to do without it again. 

"You mean him ... kissing you down there? Like he was doing when we came 
back?" 

Betty nodded, still looking down at her loins. She placed her hand between 
her legs, closed her eyes and laid her head back on the couch and said, 
"God, I love to have my cunt sucked. That's the only way to really really 
cum. And I've taught Glen to go down on me really good. He just loves it and 
he'll do it for hours. He'd rather eat pussy than peanut butter sandwiches. 
Try him some time after I'm gone and when you're sure Paul won't catch you. 
What a tongue that little devil's got. What a mouth. What a taste for a 
woman's cunt. And not just for cunt. God, he'll lick you all over, your 
ears, your tits, your asshole, but best of all he'll lick your cunt. He'll 
suck your clit till you think you're never going to stop cumming, and he'll 
be hurt when you ask him to slip his little prick in you then." 

"His prick didn't look so little to me," said Debbie, with a husky note in 
her voice." 

Betty looked at her smiling. The conversation had succeeded in kindling the 
spark of lust in her eyes. Now Betty had to fan the flame to life, and she 
felt she could do that as surely as her hand was arousing herself. "Prick's 
are great," she said. "But they're pretty much all the same. It's tongues 
that are different. Any man can stick his prick in your cunt and pull it 
out, but it takes someone special, like Glen, with a special education like 
I gave him, to really drive a woman up the walls. I never could teach Paul, 
but I sure did teach Glen in a hurry." 

Debbie leaned closer and took the glass from Betty. Her hand was covering 
Betty's now, and all the signs of sexual arousal were there in her smiling 
face as she sipped. If Betty could keep talking in this vein, Debbie would 
open her legs for Glen's mouth the moment he arrived home early from school. 
But now Debbie opened her pretty mouth and said, "And who taught you, 
Betty?" 

"To eat pussy really well? Oh, I learned." 

"Was it a woman or a man who first sucked you off really good?" 

Betty was momentarily flustered. She hadn't expected the conversation to 
take this turn, but if talking about lesbianism helped arouse the girl, she 
was ready for it. "Matter of fact," she said, "it was a woman. My piano 
teacher. I was about your age with maybe the same sexual experience you've 
had. I'd been laid maybe half a dozen times. My piano teacher was in her 
thirties. "About your age now." 

"Yes. A spinster. A damned good-looking woman. I used to love sitting so 
close beside her on the piano bench while she taught me how to play. We'd 
smile and look at each other and my heart would just pound. Then one day she 
told me I wasn't working the foot pedals right, and she got down on the 
floor and put her hands on my feet and showed me how to do it. I couldn't 
even think straight when she was down there. She touched my knee with her 
shoulder, and I thought I'd go straight up the wall. I was wearing one of 
those long skirts that were fashionable then, and she put her hand right up 
under it on my knee and asked me what was wrong, and ... and ... Jesus," 
said Betty, and squeezed Debbie's hand and polished off the wine. 

"What happened then?" Debbie eagerly asked, moving closer on the couch. "Did 
she give you head right there at the piano bench?" 

"Give me head? She gave me a lot more than that, honey. She gave me the 
first real orgasm I'd ever had in my life. Fucking's great, but sucking's 
greater." 

"And did you give her head, too? And go sixty-nine with her? I just know you 
did, Betty." 

Betty smiled and looked the girl over. She was so close her tanned knee was 
kissing Betty's very white one. Betty said, "Do you think I'm gay or 
something?" 

"Shit, I know you're not gay. Paul says you're great in bed, and you 
wouldn't have made it with Glen if you were gay. But, uh, you have made it 
with women, haven't you. You gave head to that sexy piano teacher, didn't 
you. And there were other women, too. There had to be. I mean, you can't 
teach a man to give head until you've done it yourself. Isn't that true? A 
real lesbian told me that once. Isn't it true, Betty?" She was trying to 
talk me into going down on her, but I wouldn't do it." 

She was talking fast, all excited now, and Betty had to keep her momentum 
going, even though Glen wasn't due for another half-hour. "Did this lesbian 
give you head, Debbie?" 

"Oh, God," she said in reply, and her hand closed hard on Betty's and she 
shivered visibly. 

"Was it good, Debbie?" Betty said, and stroked her trembling hand. 

"So good it scared me." 

"A lot better than Paul's prick, though he isn't bad with that." 

A coolness came over Debbie's features and she said, "My father hasn't 
touched me in that way." 

Betty was close to ruining it all. She had to salvage the heat she'd aroused 
in the girl at any cost. She said, "Of course he hasn't. You two are blood 
relations. So are Glen and me, but I'm not sorry we did what we did. Jesus, 
I haven't had my cunt sucked like that in years. I really taught that boy 
how to lick pussy, how to give head, as you say. Mm-m-m-m-m," she purred, 
and laid her head back on the couch again and let her hand carry on with her 
work. 

She laid it on Debbie's knee and gave the smooth flesh a little squeeze. She 
ran it up and down the rounded slenderness a few inches, surprising herself 
at how good it felt. She'd never even touched a woman who was sexually 
aroused before, and she found she was enjoying the new experience, just as 
she was enjoying her role as a part-time lesbian. 

"Of course you're right," she said, dreamily roving fingers of velvet over 
flesh that was damp with the fever of sex. "At times I like doing it almost 
as much as I like having it done. My piano teacher, Alicia, taught me how to 
kiss pussy. After the second time, I'd go in her bathroom and take off my 
panties as soon as I got there. By the time I sat down on the bench with her 
I was so hot I couldn't even hit the keys, let alone the pedals. She'd make 
me wait, sitting close, teasing me. Sometimes I'd be ready to cry and just 
beg her to do it, and then she'd always pat me on the knee and tell me I 
wasn't working the pedals right. She'd get down on the floor and I'd slide 
forward on the bench and pull my skirts up and then, oh God, then she'd give 
me the lesson I'd really come for. God that woman could eat pussy, but 
Glen's just about as good now." 

"And you?" Debbie breathlessly asked, quite close beside Betty now, so close 
that Betty's hand was moving within inches of the frayed hem of her 
cut-offs, so aroused Betty could clearly scent her firm, pulsing pussy. "How 
did you do it to her the first-time?" 

"She was clever about it. She did it to me maybe seven or eight times, like 
I told you, always getting me so hot at first I was ready to cum before she 
even put her head up under my skirt. And then one day she got me to that 
point and wouldn't go any farther," said Betty, amazed at how easily this 
unfulfilled fantasy about her old piano teacher was flowing out of her, and 
amazed at how much it was exciting her to tell someone about it. She touched 
the shaking flesh at the hem of Debbie's cut-offs and said, "I was so hot I 
was shaking all over. I kept kicking the pedals wrong, but she didn't go 
down on the floor. We'd never even said a word about it before, she'd just 
do it to me and go on with the lesson, but that day I finally said to 
her-almost crying, 'Please, Alicia!' She said, 'Please what, Betty?' I said, 
'Please kiss me!' and she did, right on the mouth." 

"Oh, shit," Debbie murmured, and clasped Betty's hand against her thigh. 

"I almost did, my dear. All of a sudden I was just necking like crazy with 
this beautiful older woman, pressing her hands against my titties and 
feeling her beautiful little breasts. They were shaped like yours," she 
said, staring straight at the two plumpy sharp mounds on Debbie's heaving 
chest. She went on, saying, "I was really stacked at that age. Alicia like 
my tits almost as much as she did my pussy. When she got my dress and 
brassiere open and started sucking on 'em and kissing them, I thought I'd go 
crazy. Hell, I did go crazy. It was the first time in my life I ever had an 
orgasm just having my breasts kissed and my nipples sucked." 

"You can do that?!?" said Debbie, and her slender brown hand twitched in the 
direction of where she was staring. 

"I sure can," said Betty, and took Debbie's hand in hers and placed it 
against her breast. 

The deepest sort of thrill coursed through her mature but not totally 
experienced body as her step-daughter's fingers closed deep in her breast, 
and the delectable young girl said, "Go on, Betty. Go on!" 

 CHAPTER ELEVEN 

Betty chuckled and said, "Go on with what, Deb? Go on with my story or go on 
and cum? Your hand feels wonderful there," she continued, pressing it closer 
and pushing her hard big nipple into its hot little palm. "But I need a 
mouth on my tits to make me cum. Preferably a woman's mouth. God, your hand 
feels nice. Am I shocking you, dear? Women are just better at oral sex than 
men are. They're softer about it at first, and they don't give up when the 
really good things start to happen. A woman's mouth between my legs ... 
that's about the ultimate." 

"Oh, God," Debbie moaned, and her fingers dug into Betty's big titty so 
deeply that the older woman felt faint for a moment. "Did you ever go 
sixty-nine with Alicia? I know you did. I had a dream I was doing that with 
a chick once. Tell me about it, Betty. Tell me what it's like. Please, 
Betty, please!" 

The poor girl was beside herself with perverted desire. Betty felt a little 
guilty about leading her on so falsely, and so effectively. But she thought 
back to all the little petty cruelties Debbie had inflicted on her in the 
past few days and she reached out and tweaked a very hard little nipple that 
was showing so clearing through faded green cotton. 

Debbie gasped and said, "Oh, Betty!" 

Betty pinched her nipple harder, and Debbie's smooth young brow knit deeply 
and she bit her underlip as she looked down at it. 

"Hurt you?" Betty asked, pinching hard, rolling the very hard ball between 
her fingers. 

Debbie nodded, still watching, still trembling. 

"Take off that damned shirt," said Betty, and released her. 

Debbie's slender body sagged visibly. She sat there panting for a few 
moments and then whipped the skimpy tank top off her body. The girl had nice 
little tits. They were very white against her tan, but the nipples were 
darker than Betty's, and they were standing straight up. 

Betty was more leisurely about removing her T-shirt. Debbie's eyes were 
almost closed, but she watched every inch of the emergence of Betty's big 
tits. Both women sat on the couch breathing deeply, bare-chested, Betty 
smiling and Debbie slack-jawed. At last Betty started to get up, and Debbie 
grabbed her hand and said, "What are you going to do?" 

"Get us a couple of beers. What do you want me to do?" 

Debbie's hand tightened on her. "Anything you want, Betty. I won't tell 
Daddy. No matter what, Paul won't ever know." 

"I don't care about what he knows any more." 

"Then let's do it. Daddy won't kiss me there. That lesbian I knew did it, 
but I've never done it. Please, Betty?" 

"Don't whine, girl," said Betty, and jerked her to her and mashed her lips 
down on her stepdaughter's open mouth. The feeling of those firm young 
breasts pressed hotly against her much bigger, much softer ones was far more 
erotic than she'd imagined. Debbie's waist felt very tiny under Betty's 
strong encircling arm, and as sinuous as a snake. Her mouth was sweet. Betty 
could taste the excitement welling up in it as they kissed and mashed their 
tits together. She crept her fingers down inside the back of Debbie's opened 
cut-offs, grasped the waistband of her panties and pulled up hard, and as 
she did, Debbie squirmed and moaned and bit Betty's tongue. 

Betty shoved her away. "You little bitch!" 

Debbie threw herself at the buxom blonde. "I couldn't help it! Did I hurt 
you?" 

"Here's something to chew on," said Betty, and shoved her down until there 
was a dark head bobbing at her tits, two slender hands trembling and pawing 
over them, and quaking lips placing feverish kisses on their turgid nipples. 

"Oh, God," Debbie moaned, kissing madly, pressing her hot cheeks against 
them. "I didn't mean for this to happen. God, they're so big! I want to make 
you cum. Betty, please cum for me!" 

That was a lie Betty had told about tit-kissing making her climax. But now, 
with her husband's daughter and mistress sucking so passionately on her 
nipples, the possibility was quite plausible. She laid back, clasping the 
sucking mouth to her tit, and resumed the fantasy about the teacher whom she 
had a crush on. "We'd sit naked at the piano, Alicia and I, playing 
beautiful tunes. That was after we'd had our wild, wild sex together. She 
taught me to eat pussy, and to love it. Sixty-nine," Betty said, and 
Debbie's mouth and fingers tightened on her tit, and the girl moaned 
ecstatically. 

"We'd roll around on the floor together with all our clothes on but our 
panties, sucking each other's pussies and just going crazy. Your mouth is 
getting me awfully horny, Deb. God, I think I am going to cum. I've been so 
fucking horny in the past few days. Making love with Glen-just crazy. Stay 
right there on that nipple and suck harder, Deb. Oh, harder! My God! Oh, my 
God!" 

Suddenly she really was cumming. It welled right up through her pussy and 
all over her body like clear water gushing out of a desert well. Debbie's 
eyes were very wide as she looked up at her, still sucking avidly on her 
tit, digging her fingers into the big soft flesh there. The girl was 
obviously fascinated by the sight of her stepmother in orgasm, and by the 
feeling of her voluptuous body in that wild state. She was sucking and 
snuffling like a greedy piglet even after the peak of the unexpected climax 
had passed and Betty's big body was beginning to relax again. Betty had to 
physically drag the girl's mouth from her tits, and then for a long, 
delightful minute they were locked in each other's arms on the couch, 
sucking heavily on each other's mouths. Both women were sharing the orgasmic 
tingles still rippling through Betty's big body as Debbie squirmed her 
lightly perspiring titties against Betty's kiss-wetted ones. 

"I did it," Debbie said with a grin. "I didn't think I could." 

"Yes, and you liked it." 

"Not as much as you did, Ma. Think I could ever cum that way?" 

Betty grinned back and got her fingers on a hard little nipple. "Sure, with 
a lot of practice." She slid her hand down inside the seat of Debbie's 
drooping pants. "But I know of a better way. Get us those beers first, and 
then show me that hot little cunt I'm going to kiss." 

Their flesh stuck together as if reluctant to part as Debbie extricated 
herself from Betty's arms. Debbie let her open cut-offs slide down her 
shapely legs and stepped out of them as she went around the coffee table, 
casting a sultry look at Betty from over her shoulder. Her little bottom 
bobbing across the living room in the tight white bikini panties was just 
adorable. Betty wanted to eat her and eat her well, but she feared that old 
inhibitions might suddenly arise and alter her licentious mood. She waited 
nervously, thinking about all the sex she'd missed out on in her life 
because of her fears about being more open to Alicia's tremulous advances 
years before, and she wondered if she could overcome those fears now. Her 
questions were answered when Debbie came sauntering back through the kitchen 
doorway. 

She was still practicing her provocative little walk, and now for the first 
time Betty truly appreciated it. Clad in nothing at all but a pair of 
panties, body all golden tanned except for her titties, she looked decidedly 
kissable everywhere. 

She came and handed over a cold can to Betty, stood close before her with 
one hand on a cocked hip and drank. Betty leaned forward and pushed a kiss 
on the damp warm mound at the juncture of her loins before sampling her 
beer, gazing through heavy-lidded eyes at the nubile young nymph so 
patiently awaiting her mouth. 

"Take those off, Debbie," she said. "Show me your cunt." 

"Sure, Ma. Anything you say." 

Her body again reminded Betty of a tawny snake's body as she undulated it 
from side to side in slithering the panties down her shapely legs. She 
tossed the little garment aside and straightened up with her hips thrust 
forward and the bones of her pelvis standing out clearly on her lean young 
body. Her loins were a triangle of white that led down to a thin fan of dark 
straight hair through which showed the thin pink line of her pussy. Betty 
made her murmur and lean closer still by tickling her fingers up her inner 
thigh. Debbie's slit was creamy wet when Betty gently touched its thin, 
puffy lips, for the girl's heat was such that her love juices were 
overflowing from her hole. 

"Oh, Betty!" she said, her body twitching as Betty's finger located the tip 
of her clit. 

"That's where I'm going to kiss you best," said Betty, just barely moving 
her finger on it. "And if you jump like that from my finger, what'll you do 
with my tongue there?" 

Debbie shivered and closed her eyes. She pushed her hips toward Betty's hand 
and said, "Where, Mama? Where?" 

"Right here. On the floor in front of the fan. Lie down and get set to feel 
good." 

Her slim body was all easy grace as she settled herself down on the floor. 
Betty got to her feet and came closer, so as not to miss a single movement 
of the slender beauty waiting for her kisses. Debbie lay on her back with 
her arms extended, her knees up, her feet flat on the carpet and widely 
separated. Betty could almost see the heat waves rising from her little cunt 
as she opened her cut-offs and pushed them down her legs, tits swaying 
heavily, nipples still hard. As naked as her stepdaughter, she got on her 
knees between the two tanned feet, and Debbie smiled sweetly and held out 
her arms to her. 

"Hurry, Mama. Make me feel good." 

"There won't be any hurrying about this," Betty promised, and licked her 
lips and bent closer to the sweet young cunt. 

Betty pushed Debbie's thighs more widely apart and began on her. Her initial 
actions were like those of a surgeon preparing a patient for an operation. 
That is, she washed all around the focus of her attention with her lips and 
her tongue, moving closer to Debbie's cunt all the time. But her 
administrations were far more tender and loving than the surgeon's prep. The 
flesh she was kissing was amazingly firm and taut, yet wondrously soft. She 
smelled sweet and clean and musky and very sexy as Betty bent over her 
opened crotch with her lovely blonde head between her legs and her big white 
ass high in the air. Already Debbie was writhing and murmuring plaintively 
as she lay on the floor, and Betty hadn't even kissed her little twat yet. A 
trickle of sex juice tickled down Betty's thigh as she ran her tonguetip 
down through the creamy wet lips, tasting hot cunt for the first time in her 
life. 

"Oh, God, yes!" Debbie exclaimed, and closed her fingers in the blonde hair 
between her legs. 

Betty parted the luscious young lips with her thumbs and dug deeper with her 
tongue, for the flavor of cunt far exceeded anything she'd anticipated. 
She'd tasted it on Glen's and others' lips before but it had never been like 
this, never so fresh and warm and delectable. 

"Ah, it's so good. Oh, you're so good to me," said the girl, arching her 
hips off the floor to give Betty more of what she wanted. 

Her lips were delicious. Betty nibbled at them with her lips and swept aside 
the tendrils of hair on them with her tongue. The deep hollows of her lean, 
spare loins were intriguing. Betty buried her face in them and Frenched the 
girl flesh there deeply. Her clit was hugely exciting, just a little pointed 
button of flesh that fit perfectly between Betty's lips. The slightest flick 
of her tongue on it while it was being sucked produced absolutely thrilling 
results. 

"Oh, yes, right there! Suck it, Betty, suck it. That's what the lesbian did, 
but this is ten times better than that!" said Debbie, with her thin hips 
jerking up strongly to push her clit at Betty's mouth, with her fine young 
body thrashing about on the floor. 

Betty grabbed her hips to hold her still. Now that she'd tasted it fully, 
she had to have more of this sweet cunt. Debbie's squirming buttocks were so 
petite that Betty could grasp them with her fingers and still use her thumbs 
to hold her slit open. This she did while she licked it from top to bottom 
and back again, burying her nose in the wet warm flesh, rubbing the cuntlips 
with her hot cheeks. Looking up through the sparse black hair, past her 
stepdaughter's convulsing belly, Betty saw her pink and white titties 
twitching and jerking and she could glimpse her pretty face, all contorted 
by the paroxysms that she was inspiring with her mouth. It was a beautiful 
little body, agleam with a light film of perspiration, doing the dance of 
sexy love. It was a kaleidoscope view of earthy delight, but it was the 
girlish face that fascinated Betty. Her eyes were tight shut and her brows 
were knit, her nostrils were widely flared and her tongue was compressed 
between her lips. Betty moved around, her mouth never leaving its place 
between Debbie's legs, to feel that little pink tongue in her aching cunt. 
She hoped the girl would like the taste of pussy as much as she did, but 
even if not she'd be able to cum far better than she had from the 
titty-sucking. 

 CHAPTER TWELVE 

Despite the heat of the day, Glen ran all the way home from school. He was 
late, for at first they hadn't believed his excuse that he was suffering 
from a headache. He certainly didn't want to be late for an occasion like 
this. If things went right, he'd be rewarded with days and nights of endless 
pleasure with his mother. If things went as she'd planned, the very 
consummation of her plan would be reward enough in itself, for next to his 
mother Debbie was the sexiest woman he'd ever seen in his life. But if 
things went wrong, the thrashing he'd gotten from his father would be 
nothing at all in comparison to what he'd get that night. 

His father's car wasn't in the driveway, and that at least was a good sign. 
He hurried on, desperately hoping it would all come off as his mother had 
planned. By now Debbie should be good and drunk on the beer Betty had been 
feeding her. Between the two of them, it should be fairly easy to get her 
clothes off, hold her down, and excite her so much she was out of her head. 

In this condition, drunk and passionately aroused, she'd surely be made to 
confess that she'd been having a hot sex affair with her father and his. 
This, his mother had said, would cancel out the old man's threat of 
blackmail and enable them to go off together and build a new life, one that 
had plenty of sex in it. Just then, however, he couldn't think far beyond 
the part he'd play in arousing Debbie's passions to the point of a rambling 
confession. He got to the front steps panting, eased open the door, and let 
his jaw drop at what he saw on the floor before him. 

His mother was way ahead of him. Beer cans and a wine glass were scattered 
about the room, and she had Debbie wildly aroused already. They were in 
exactly the same position he and his mother had been in when his father and 
stepdaughter had walked unannounced into the house. They were rolling around 
on the living room floor in a sixty-nine position, arms and legs wrapped 
tightly around each other, lapping each other's twats with lusty gusto. For 
a moment it shocked him to see his mother thus engaged in a homosexual 
embrace, but the wildly erotic beauty of the scene instantly transformed his 
shock into an urgent necessity to join them. He was ripping off his clothes 
even as he closed the front door behind him. 

They were both so hot and cumming so constantly that they didn't even notice 
his arrival. The air was heavy and sweet with their womanly scents, and the 
smacking of their lips made him lick his as he tore at his clothing. They 
presented a perfect contrast. His mother's naked body was all full and 
round, very white and blonde and suffused with pink. Debbie's body was 
slender and dark, marked with the white patches left from her bathing suit, 
and suffused with the same pink glow of sex. Debbie's legs were long and 
firm, and his mother's were much thicker and softer with flesh that was 
constantly jiggling like jello. His mother's tits were so big that they were 
extruded out from between their clasping torsos, and Debbie's were so small 
he couldn't even see them. He could see neither of their faces clearly, for 
these were buried in flesh that he longed for with every fiber in his being, 
but everything he did see of them was beautiful, absolutely beautiful. Naked 
at last, prick up hard, he threw himself down on the tangle of orgasming 
woman flesh there on the living room floor. 

Glen pawed at them and rolled about with them, everywhere encountering flesh 
so sexy and good that he had to have more, much more of it. "Let me in! I 
want to do it, too!" he pleaded, but his mother and his half-sister were far 
too involved with their orgasms to pay him notice now. 

His mother's lovely big ass was right there, and he bumped his head against 
Debbie's as he bent to bury his face in the crack of it and taste the sweet 
sex flowing through her crotch. His throbbing prick was bouncing and rubbing 
against more sexy naked flesh, whose he did not know, and he mouthed and 
licked and added more to his mother's orgasms and more to his need to cum 
with them. Then Debbie's ass was at hand, like cantaloupes in comparison to 
the watermelons of Betty's big buttocks, and Glen kissed and sucked them 
with equal ardor. Her taste was sweeter but no better than his mother's 
taste, and it too added to Glen's overwhelming excitement. 

Glen kissed them and laid hands on them everywhere, pleading for them to let 
him get between them, and still they rolled in each other's arms, sucking 
cunt, cumming constantly. Each wracking shudder that ripped through their 
tightly embracing bodies increased his need for completion and made him moan 
with frustration despite this over-abundance of hot, lovely, naked flesh 
that was his to play with. 

At last in his frustration he mounted them both. He got astride them and 
jammed his hot prick deep into slick flesh, pumped only once and began to 
cream and shoot and squirt between their tightly clasped torsos. 

"I'M FUCKING YOU BOTH AT ONCE, BOTH AT ONCE!" he cried, rubbing his 
convulsing balls against both white and tanned flesh, spewing his fecund 
load into the tight sandwich of their bodies. 

Newer, deeper orgasmic ripples coursed through them as they felt him join 
them in these supreme feelings. "MMMMM! MMMMMM!!!" He didn't know who was 
moaning so urgently, and perhaps it might have been him, all he knew were 
the huge feelings of cumming that were ricocheting through the close, close 
triangle of their tightly enmeshed bodies. 

At last they all relaxed in unison, and the two lovely women rolled away 
from each other sighing. Betty smiled at Glen and said, "You're late from 
school, dear." 

"Sorry, Mom," he said, quite automatically. 

"Never mind, honey. You got here on time." 

Debbie struggled to sit up, smiling and saying, "Hi, little brother. I'm 
glad you could join us." 

He tore his eyes from her flushed and disheveled young beauty and said, "Did 
she already, uh...." 

Betty patted his hand. "We had a talk, of sorts. Everything's going to be 
all right, I think." But let's not worry about it now. Give your sister a 
kiss, Glennie, and tell her you're glad she came." 

He kissed her on the mouth, marveling at the sweet, firm movements of her 
lips and tongue. He felt of the sweet little titties he'd been ogling for 
the past week, and when the kiss ended, he said, "Hi, Sissie. Uh, anyplace 
else you'd like to be kissed?" 

Debbie looked quizzically at Betty, and placed her cupped hand over her 
twat. "I told you he loves to eat pussy," said Betty. "Do him a favor and 
give him some, while you lie beside me and we talk." 

Betty stretched out one arm, and Debbie snuggled into the crook of it. They 
lay side by side while Glen crouched on the floor at their legs, feasting 
his eyes on Debbie's compact cunt. He tried to remember everything he'd 
learned at his mother's loins as he gently separated the tender wet lips of 
his half-sister, but once his mouth was pressed against that sweet slit 
there was no need to do anything but act natural. 

"What a wonderful, wonderful afternoon this has been," said Debbie, "and it 
keeps on getting better all the time." 

Glen looked up over their two naked bodies, saw Debbie's cute little titties 
pointing straight up, while his mother's lovely big milkbags lolled in their 
direction, as if they too could see and appreciate them. Not that his 
mother's tits were any less lovely. 

"And," said Betty, "it could get even better than this, all the time, if 
only it weren't for Paul and his old-fashioned ways." 

Looking sideways, Glen saw his mother's cunt right there, and he took the 
initiative and used his hand on it. It was softer, more luxurious than the 
one he was sucking. It would probably be his favorite for life, but he 
enjoyed Debbie's while he had it for himself. 

"I'm glad Glen's not so old-fashioned," said Debbie, and reached down to 
rumple his hair. 

"I trained him well," said Betty, and Glen was treated to the sight of the 
two naked women rolling together to exchange a deep kiss, while Debbie 
squirmed her tight little cunt against his mouth in the first sweet stages 
of orgasm. 

"Mm! Mm! Mm!" she grunted, even through the kiss, and Glen obligingly sucked 
harder on her clit, pulling insistently on his mother's bigger clit at the 
same time. He wanted to stay with Debbie throughout the throes of ecstasy 
that were overtaking her, but one tug at his ear by his mother and his mouth 
was hotly pressed against her equally delicious cunt. 

Debbie, cumming hard, quickly rolled atop him, pressing his face more deeply 
still against his mother's cunt. This was what he'd wanted before, and now 
he was getting it, locked between two cunts, feeling them cum all around his 
swirling head, knowing he could have all he wanted of both of them. 

His half-sister fell back, and now he went from cunt to cunt like a busy 
bee, tasting the rich nectar that welled up from the thick petals of their 
cuntlips. Betty and Debbie lolled luxuriously on the floor, encouraging him 
with their hands on his head and their lovely naked bodies before his eyes. 

"I think we should all run away together, just the three of us," Debbie 
said. "Daddy's okay in bed, but you two are just wild." 

"Maybe you're right," said Betty. "But we're not going anyplace till Glen 
fucks us a little." 

"Both of us?" said Debbie, smiling delightedly down at Glen, now busy with 
her hot cunt. 

"Just a little?" said Glen, rising and wiping his mouth, showing them both 
how stiff his prick was. 

"A little now, a lot later," said Betty, and sat up to fit his cock into his 
half-sister's cunt for the first of what he hoped would be many times. 

"It's tight," he said, pushing it in, as she smiled her encouragement and 
obligingly held her legs wide open for him. "But I like yours just as much, 
Mom." 

"Nice little cock," said Debbie to Betty, as she tilted her hips to improve 
an already fine fit. "Not as big as Daddy's, but nice." 

"He'll grow, with exercise. But you know, I do miss Paul's big cock now and 
then." 

"It is sorta nice," Debbie dreamily said, rotating her hips under the slowly 
thrusting hips of her half-brother. "If only we could get him to like eating 
pussy. Then the four of us would really have a time." 

"We might be able to educate Paul, but I don't know...." 

At this point Glen changed cunts. His mother's was right there waiting for 
him, and he moved to her so quickly that Debbie hardly had a chance to take 
his cockshaft in hand and help him with the first penetration. He grinned as 
he sank into her familiar, buttery depths, and he said, "I can take care of 
you both, but I will miss Dad now and then." 

"He has been a good provider," said Betty, moving her hips in slow 
counterpoint to her son's quickening thrusts. 

"I like the way Glen provides," Debbie said, and was able to place a warm 
kiss on Glen's mouth without interfering with his rhythm. 

"He can ... ah-h-h-h-h ... do it all," said his mother, closing her eyes to 
bask in the newest of the orgasms brought to her by her son's sturdy prick. 
"He's always ready to stick that hard prick of his anywhere you like, in 
your cunt, your hand, your fanny, tits, mouth, anywhere, oh, just anywhere!" 
she said, and made Glen's plump young buttocks bounce high with the heavy 
pushes of her pelvis. 

Debbie watched fascinated as her beautiful blonde stepmother did the 
horizontal dance of orgasm. "Does it hurt?" she said. 

"Hurt? Feels marvelous!" Betty declared, with her heels digging into Glen's 
buttocks now her pussy gushing beautifully. 

Debbie rolled over on her stomach and said, "I don't mean that. Nothing 
about that could hurt!" 

"Nothing at all," Betty said, sighing and starting to let the liquid 
relaxation spread through her body. 

"I mean does it hurt when our Glennie does it in the fanny?" 

Glen stopped his pumping and a slow grin spread over his face as he looked 
at his half-sister's cute little fanny. She was grinning mischievously over 
her shoulder at him and causing the pure white hemispheres of her bottom to 
twitch and squirm provocatively. And now Betty joined them in their smiles 
as she said, "It doesn't hurt a bit, darling. Glen, show her that I'm 
right." 

The boy was careful about mounting his step-sister from behind because he 
certainly didn't want to hurt her, and because he looked forward already to 
many encores of a good performance. He fitted his well-lubricated prick head 
quite cautiously into the tight tan ring that looked far too small for it, 
and Debbie eased his fears by elevating her pretty hips and wiggling him 
right inside her. 

Up on her knees and elbows, she giggled and said, "It feels funny. I think I 
like regular fucking better." 

"Nothing beats regular fucking in the long, day-to-day run," said Betty, and 
turned about and lifted her voluptuous big hips beside her step-daughter's 
trim little bottom. "But a little back door fucking isn't bad for a change. 
And I'll take a little, Glen, whenever your sister gets tired." 

Glen had four holes to select from then-two cunts and two assholes-and each 
of them was most receptive to his penetrations. His two women smiled and 
talked dreamily while he went from one to the other on his knees, sampling a 
pussy here, and asshole there, as relaxed and contented as they were, and 
able to go for a long time more. 

"Just fucking around on a Monday afternoon," said Betty. "That's hard to 
beat." 

"I'm so glad I quit thumb-tripping around and stopped in for a visit," 
Debbie said. 

"Me, too," said her half-brother, balls deep in her cute little bottom, with 
his strong young hands clasping her trim little hips. 

"God, he can really go for a long time!" said Debbie. 

"He hates to quit anything once he gets started," her stepmother explained. 

"I'd better quit soon," said Glen, though he was loath to do so. "Dad's 
going to be home pretty soon, and he sure wouldn't like it if he saw us like 
this." 

"He can't do anything if the three of us stick together," said Debbie, her 
slender waist arching gracefully and her eyes closed now, really getting 
with this new kind of fucking that they'd been so good as to show her. 

"Yeah, we could just gang up on him and he couldn't do a darned thing!" Glen 
said. 

"It would certainly bring everything out in the open in a hurry, and we 
three can't go on with our new way of life for long if we stay here and try 
to hide things from him." 

"Let him catch us! I don't care; I just don't care!" said Debbie, quite 
excitedly now as she felt her first anal orgasm growing and building inside 
her. 

"We don't have much of a choice now," said Glen, and quickly withdrew 
himself from the tightest of the four holes as his disposal. "That's his car 
outside!" 

He scurried around to put the two kneeling women between himself and the 
front door. He'd be ready to defend them if necessary, but only if it was 
really necessary. Betty would have scurried for cover herself if she didn't 
feel so languidly content with all the sex she'd had that day. As it was, 
she stayed right there on the floor on her hands and knees and told Debbie 
to do the same. Glen looked decidedly uneasy, but the two kneeling women 
were giggling and looking back over their shoulders as Paul McCall, the head 
of the household, came briskly through the front door and stopped in his 
tracks. 

His jaw gaped open and his eyeballs bulged out at the first sight that 
greeted him after a hard day's work-two beautifully rounded bottoms, each 
deeply cleft, glistening with sex juices, and lavishly framing beckoning 
pink holes. He walked to their sides, blinking and staring, while they 
smiled up at him with complete insouciance. 

"What the hell?!?" he said, and stooped over to look under them, at the 
little cones of Debbie's titties that pointed down at the floor, and beyond 
them at Betty's big round globes swinging very gently just over the nap of 
the carpet. He walked around to Betty's side and gazed incredulously at her 
face, quite flushed with the triumphs of sex and very radiant to behold. His 
only daughter's face was equally aglow. There was no doubt at all of what 
they'd been up to, none whatsoever with his son standing naked in the 
background, clearly showing the mark of his new manhood. 

Paul sighed and shook his head. He unbuckled his belt, and Glen said, 
"You're not going to let him whip me again, are you?" 

"He won't hurt you this time," his mother assured him. 

"Daddy, we'll all three get on you if you try to beat Glen with that belt," 
Debbie warned. 

At last the tall dark man grinned. He said, "Hell, I'm not going to beat 
him, I'm going to join him, if you'll let me." 

With that he dropped his belt, trousers and shorts, and was welcomed most 
heartily by his little family of friends. 


THE END
