To err is human, to forgive divine. There is no love on earth as strong as a mother's love.
These two profound and unquestionable quotations contain respectively enough potential extrapolation for dozens of novels, and have of course been the theme of dozens of literary endeavors over the years. And yet, never have we, in all our years of publishing, ever seen them successfully combined into one truly great, memorable work of fictional art.
Until we received in our editorial offices the book you are now holding in your hands, authoress Faye Jackson's most superlative and ambitious work to date, The Passionate Mother.
This book, which we think is one of the very finest written in the past decade, succeeds masterfully in combining the two aforementioned themes into one bold, shocking, compassionate, vivid, no-holds-barred examination of life in modern America, the living, breathing entities who populate every city and small town from coast to coast. It lays bare, for you the reader, for your edification and your deep consideration, the pressures which are constantly heaped upon all of us, the temptations we are constantly falling prey to, the searching of our souls for what is right and what is wrong that all of us must do at some time in our lives. It looks at the family unit, at its disintegration and rebirth. It looks at love, and desire, and hedonistic pursuits. And it looks at the avenues of expression that a true love, the love of a mother for her son, can take when that son's happiness is threatened, and her own happiness is in doubt because of those pressures and temptations and desires which are extant in every human being.
The Passionate Mother is not a gentle book, and yet, in its honest portrayal of life in the raw, life as it really is, it is ultimately a book filled with hope for all of us, for our salvation and our happiness. It teaches the beauty of love, the goodness of forgiving the sins of our friends and loved ones, and in so doing points out the many dangers and pitfalls which await us, and which we can perhaps avoid if confronted with them.
If our praise for the authoress' new book sounds overzealous, we can offer no excuse, for we are very, very proud to have the honor to publish this truly monumental literary achievement. We think that when you read the final page of this stimulating novel, you'll agree that Miss Jackson is without a doubt one of the most brilliant social commentators of our times.
And that, like us, you will be eagerly looking forward to her next epochal study of man and woman and their place in today's society.
-The Publishers
CHAPTER ONE
Leaning forward on the rear seat of the taxicab, the tall, statuesque blonde woman kneaded her handbag with nervous fingers and stared out at the familiar and yet strange streets and buildings of Summervale-a town in which she had been born thirty-six years before, and which she had not seen in five years.
Her name was Nora Hammond, and she was a beautiful, poised woman with the ripe figure of a young girl; her breasts, high and proud and perfectly rounded, showed no sign of sagging, and her thighs, visible where the hem of her short, ice-blue dress hiked up, were firm and tanned, tapering into dimpled knees and slender ankles. Her hips, small and boyish and yet curved provocatively, moved involuntarily on the seat in her agitated state, and she kept moistening full, naturally pink lips with the tip of her small, wet tongue. Her face was soft and lovely, free of age lines, and yet it contained a certain gaunt quality, a haunted quality that was mirrored by her large, expressive blue eyes; once filled with laughter and gaiety, those eyes now contained a hidden pain and torment that was deeply rooted.
As the taxi sped through the downtown streets of Summervale, Nora wondered again-as she had done for perhaps the hundredth time in the past week-if she wasn't making another mistake, an even bigger mistake than the one she had made five years ago, in coming home again. Maybe it would have been better if she had remained in Los Angeles, if she had simply abandoned all hope for a return to normalcy and spent the rest of her life living alone with her guilt and her shame. But that was not the answer, she knew that-any more than suicide, of which she had thought on more than one occasion, was the answer. No, she owed it to Mickey and to the memory of Vera, as well as to herself, to try to make amends for what she had done, for her weakness.
Nora's mind wandered back those five years, as it had during so many waking hours recently, to the night she first met suave, sophisticated Art Donnell. She had been at a party, alone-Vera had been out of town on one of his business trips -and she had been drinking champagne, a beverage which invariably put her in a gay, light mood. She had felt like dancing, and Art Donnell had been there, a smile on his handsome face, saying the right words and making the right gestures, and she had been drawn to him. At first, the attraction was no more than one of immediate fun -dancing, laughing, mild flirting. But then, as the evening progressed and she spent more and more time dancing in Donnell's arms, felt his warm, hard male body close to hers, the attraction had subtly changed into a physical craving. It wasn't that she had been love-starved-Vera was a competent if unexciting and unimaginative bed-partner, and even though he was away three and four days a week on his sales route, he was always hungry for her body when they were together. She couldn't really, even now, explain what had been the cause of her growing desire for Art Donnell; the champagne, the magic atmosphere of a warm summer night and a party, the charm and handsomeness of Donnell himself, were all a part of it, she supposed. And yet, it was more than that. It was as if she had been slowly changing, becoming something other than a faithful wife and a good mother to their thirteen-year-old son Mickey; it was as if there had always been a wild streak in her, a lusting for excitement and adventure, repressed over the years but now breaking through.
When Donnell casually suggested Nora go for a ride in his convertible, out by the lake north of town, her heart had pounded wildly in her breast and even though she knew it was wrong, she had said a breathless yes to his proposal. She didn't want to go, and yet she did, desperately. They slipped away from the party, discreetly Nora had thought at the time, in her light-headed state, and drove in Donnell's brand new Dodge through the warm night. They stopped on a promontory overlooking the lake, a lonely and deserted spot, and the moon had been big and gold in the sky and the crickets had sung, and when Donnell pulled her into his arms she had no will to resist.
His lips and tongue had sent passion spiraling in demanding waves through her body, causing her nipples to swell into rigid arousal, her vagina to secrete droplets of her building excitement, and her arms had clung to him as if she never wanted to let him go. Then he was drawing her down on the seat, his hands caressing her breasts, her thighs, furthering intensifying her arousal, and she had known with a dim part of her mind that there could be no denying Art Donnell-that she wanted him as much as he wanted her.
They tore at one another's clothes and then they were naked, moaning and writhing on the seat of the car, and his penis was in her hand, a huge throbbing shaft, much bigger than Vern's, filling her with wild delight at its touch and the prospect of it buried deep up inside her hungrily needing belly. Donnell had kissed her breasts, nuzzling each nipple, and his right middle finger had teased her clitoris, then slid lower and into the hot, wet cavern of her womanhood. Nora had been half out of her mind with desire as she fondled his thick, hard cock, cupped and caressed his sperm-filled testicles, and finally she had drawn him on top of her, holding tightly to his cock, guiding the palpitating shaft to the thin, beardedly aching mouth of love between her trembling thighs.
Then he was sliding into her, filling her, the head of his burgeoning penis slamming hard off her cervix, and she went wild with the sensations coursing through her flesh. The only man she had ever had was Vern, she had been a virgin when they were married at the age of eighteen, and while she enjoyed sex with her husband, it had become a commonplace occurrence-same position, same foreplay, same and well-known penis filling her vagina. And now, she had a lover, another man inside her, a real man with a monstrous, strange to her, cock that drove into her in dizzying strokes that filled the very core of her with ecstasy. Never had it been this good, never, never! Nora locked her thighs to Donnell's sweating midsection, began to pound her heels on his driving buttocks as her orgasm spiraled higher and higher, as she moaned out her delight and urged him on to greater strokes into the hot, moist cavern that was her clasping, secreting cunt.
And then she was there.
She was cumming!
She had cum before, with Vern, but never in such spiraling, dizzying waves of bliss as those which washed over her now. She mewled and clutched Donnell tighter to her, her right hand sliding around his thigh to locate the swinging sac of his balls. She tickled the bloated testicles in mindless passion as her climax soared through her body, and finally her manipulations triggered Donnell's own cumming. His pistoning cock began to ejaculate great, hot, creamy spurts of cum, wetly inundating her cervix and splashing heatedly against the walls of her churning pussy, and she could feel every molten stream shooting forth into her, prolonging her orgasm until she thought she would go insane with rapture.
Then, finally, it was over and their driving bodies were still. Donnell's penis pulled from her reluctant passage with a soft wet withdrawing sound, and she could feel the deflating member leave a thin trail of thick, hot moisture along the nakedness of her thigh and belly as he rolled off her, pulled her close to him as they lay now on their sides.
"Oh Art!" she whispered. "Oh darling, that was . . . wonderful! I never knew it could be like that!"
He kissed her neck, then chuckled. "It's always like that with me, Nora honey."
"Is it? Is it really?"
"I've never had any complaints yet-and no refusals of an encore."
Nora moistened her lips; then, before she could think, she was saying, "You won't have any refusals from me either, darling. When can we meet again? Just tell me and I'll be there, I'll be there in a minute, darling. . . "
Their affair had gone on for two blissful weeks, and Nora had never known such happiness, such rapture. Donnell was true to his word; each time she made love with him, it was better than the last, and she was not disappointed on a single occasion. A part of her knew that their adulterous affair couldn't go on forever, that she would one day soon have to make a choice between Art Donnell and Vern and Mickey; but she was so giddyingly caught up in the ecstasy and excitement of her secret love affair that she was unable to think rationally. She snapped at Mickey, denied Vern his marital rights when he came home, and snuck out at every opportunity to meet Donnell. Nothing else mattered, not her home, not her family-nothing except Art Donnell deep inside her, his monstrous penis ejaculating his hot seed deep into her belly again and again and again . . .
Vern found out about the affair at the beginning of the third week.
Nora had not been nearly as discreet as she had thought the night of the party-which had been given by a good friend of both hers and Vern's and her nocturnal meetings with Donnell had for the most part taken place in his hotel in downtown Summervale. Word had gotten around, and Vern had heard it; shocked and disbelieving, he had confronted Nora with the knowledge in their bedroom, as she was slipping on her coat preparatory to leaving "to go for a little walk."
At first she hadn't known what to do. Admit her guilt, or deny it. Confusion reigned in her. But then, even though she did not want to hurt Vern or Mickey, ignoring the pain in his eyes, she had become defiant. Nothing else in this world seemed at that moment to mean as much to her as keeping Art Donnell, as prolonging their blissful affair. Yes, she was having a lewdly illicit affair, she had shouted at Vern. Yes, yes, yes! And it was with a man who was twice the lover, twice the man, that he was! She loved him, yes loved him, loved him as she could never love Vern Hammond . . .
Vern had slapped her, his face contorted with pain and rage, and called her a slut and a whore and a dozen other names. She had begun to cry, but the defiance remained strong within her, for she had finally admitted to herself as well as to her husband a fact that she had known was true each of the previous fourteen days: she was in love, madly, crazily, blindly in love with Art Donnell.
Nora had run out of the house, gotten into her car, and raced to Donnell's hotel. She told him everything, about Vern finding out, how much she loved him, how much she wanted to be with him and the rest of the world be damned. Donnell had taken her into his arms, holding her close, calming her, and then he had said, "Don't worry, Nora, we won't have to be apart. I love you, too, honey, and I want you with me always. I'll take you away, to Los Angeles."
Nora could hardly believe her ears. "Oh Art! When? When, darling?"
"At the end of this week," he said. "I've just about wrapped up my surveyor's report on the new highway, and I should have everything ready by Saturday. I was going to tell you tonight anyway. I was going to ask you to come away with me.
"Art, is it true? Is it really true?"
"It's really true," he'd laughed. "Now you go home and pack your things and tell your husband you're leaving him. Then you come back here. You can stay with me until we leave."
Nora had obeyed, a deep glow of happiness within her that far overshadowed the wrongness of what she was doing to Vern and to Mickey. Vern had been drunk when she entered the house and told him she was going away with Art Donnell, and he had been maudlin, crying in an unmanly way, pleading with her to stay. She had been oblivious to his entreaties, thinking of Art, only of Art, a real man, and she had packed everything she wanted to take with her into three suitcases. When she was ready to go, Vern was so drunk that he had passed out on the couch.
And then Mickey had come home from his Boy Scout meeting, and seen her packed bags and his father lying there, and his young face had clouded with confusion. "Mom," he had said, "Mom, where are you going? You're not going away, are you? Oh Mom!"
Her heart had gone out to him. In spite of her feelings for Art, she still loved her son, the product of her flesh, and she had taken him into her arms and held him tightly, trying to explain to him that she was in love with another man, that it was impossible for her to stay there feeling as she did. But he had been so young then, and he hadn't understood. Anger had flared in him, and he had cursed his mother and then run sobbing from the room. Nora had taken several steps toward his bedroom, crying a little herself, wanting to go to him, to explain further, but then she remembered Art Donnell waiting for her, wonderful, loving, passionate Art, and she had pivoted abruptly, picked up her bags, and left the home she had helped to create for the last time.
Art took her to Los Angeles at the end of that week, just as he had promised, and her first three months in the huge metropolis had been a merry-go-round of expensive nightclubs and restaurants, parties, trips to Las Vegas and Mexico City, wild lovemaking, delirious happiness. She had thought of Vern and Mickey often in the very beginning, but as her blissful existence with Art continued, she thought less of her former life, blotting it out of her mind. When she received the notification from Vern's lawyer that he had filed for divorce, she experienced a mild pang of regret and guilt, then nothing. The past was behind her; there was only the future now, exhilarating and exciting, the adventure she had always craved and now was embracing completely.
When the divorce was final, she married Art in a lavish ceremony in Hollywood, attended by dozens of his friends, and they bought a house in Laurel Canyon there. Time seemed to fly by, and Nora had never been happier, more effulgent, in her life. Art had inherited a considerable amount of money when he was younger, and that, coupled with his huge salary as a surveyor with the State Highway Commission, enabled them to live in monumental luxury-to take an extended trip to Europe, to rub elbows with movie stars and starlets, to become an integral part of the hectic social whirl of Southern California. It was a dream come true for Nora, a Cinderella story.
And then, suddenly, it had become instead a nightmare.
The beginning of the end, a little less than a year ago, had come in the form of a telegram and two letters from Vern's brother, Ross Hammond, which she had received three weeks late upon returning from a Caribbean cruise with Art. Her hands trembled when she read them, and tears spilled from her eyes. Vern was dead. He had been killed in an automobile accident on the outskirts of Summervale.
She had called Ross immediately, and though his voice had been cold, he had talked to her, listening to her explanation of why she hadn't come to the funeral. He told her that Mickey had moved in with him-Ross was a widower who lived alone in Clayton Heights, the wealthy section of Summervale, as a result of his successful commercial artist's talent-and that the old house was in the process of being sold. Nora had asked to speak to Mickey, but her son had refused to talk to her, saying loudly so that she could hear over the long-distance phone wires that he never wanted to see his mother again. Ross had quietly urged Nora to come home anyway, to see Mickey, and she had said that she would. But she had never gone, because of guilt and her son's stinging words-and because of what happened in her marriage to Art Donnell.
She had sensed a cooling of Art's ardor for her in recent months, but she had attributed this to, simply, the passage of time; after all, they had been together for four years, and the honeymoon couldn't be expected to last forever. She was soon to discover, however, that there was far more to it than that.
Art began to spend more and more time away from home, to take unexplained trips to distant places without her. Nora refused to believe that he was being unfaithful to her, but the nagging thought persisted until, finally, she did some quiet investigating on her own. And learned that Art had been seen in Hollywood, Palm Springs, Acapulco, with a beauteous young red-haired movie actress-that he was having an open, wildly clandestine affair with her.
Nora had been crushed at first, refusing to accept the truth, knowing that she had to. Then the bitter irony of it all struck her, for this was the same situation she had placed Vern in those five years past; now she was the one being cheated on. And as Vern had done with her, she confronted Art when next he came home-and he laughed in her face, contemptuously, a stranger whom she had never thought existed in the body of the man she loved. He told her he was getting a divorce to marry the red-haired starlet, that he was taking everything to give to the other woman, and that if Nora tried to counter-sue, or to make any trouble at all, he would see to it that she was dragged through the messiest, cheapest, loudest kind of court battle on record. And if that wasn't enough, there was always other ways of taking care of her
There was nothing for Nora to do. The change in Art, from a happy, carefree lover to a cold, sneering stranger frightened her, and she had no doubt that he meant every word he said. She had tried appealing to some of her friends in Hollywood and Los Angeles, only to discover that she had no real friends at all-that all the acquaintances she had made while living with and married to Art were his friends, his kind of people. Once they knew how things stood in the Donnell household, they were on Art's side, not Nora's, and she was suddenly completely alone, with no one to turn to, nowhere to go.
Completely demoralized, her world collapsed at her feet, Nora had moved into a small Los Angeles apartment five months ago and had remained there until two days ago. Art had sent her a check in the mail for five thousand dollars, as if she was a whore whose services were no longer needed and therefore was to be paid and forgotten. She had wanted to send the money back to him, to refuse to allow him this one final slap at her pride, but she had no funds of her own, no means of support, and so she had swallowed what was left of her feelings and had cashed the check.
Living alone, seldom going out, she had had plenty of time to think-and to repent. She realized that she had made a mistake in destroying the home she and Vern had made, in denying his love and that of their son, Mickey, that she had been a fool to think that Art loved her so much as to want her with him for the rest of their lives. She knew that there had been other women, too, before the red-haired actress-a long line of women that she had been blind to the existence of during their marriage; and she knew that the only reason Art had kept her around as long as he had was that he had not found a suitable replacement among those women, not until the redhead came into his life. Oh God, what a terrible, romantic, naive fool she had been! She had given up happiness for excitement and adventure, and now that there was no more excitement and adventure, what did she have? Nothing-no husband, no home, not even a son any more . . .
Finally, Nora had reached her decision. She had known that her only hope for salvation, for even a glimmer of renewed happiness, lay in returning to Summervale. But could she go home? Did she dare face Mickey again? And Ross? Yes, she dared -she had to dare. It was the only way.
She had written to Ross, not able to face the pain of a telephone call, and he had responded immediately with a long-distance call of his own. Nora knew that Ross had always liked her, that perhaps his feelings for her had even at one time gone deeper than that, and she had always been able to talk to him. She was still able to talk to him, she discovered, and on the telephone that day she had poured out the entire sad, sordid story, begging at the end of it for forgiveness, begging him to let her come to he and Mickey for a visit to see if she could find herself again. Ross had been sympathetic, and understanding; too many years had passed, he said, for grudges to be held. People made mistakes every day, huge mistakes, and as long as they were willing to admit those mistakes, to seek amends for them, then they should be forgiven.
Mickey had been less forgiving when he heard of Ins mother's plea to come home. He hadn't wanted her home, he still held firm to his vow never to see her again; this was what Ross had reluctantly told Nora in another phone call. But Ross had gently worked on the youth's resistance, while Nora waited expectantly in Los Angeles, not wanting to come unless Mickey wanted her, knowing that she wouldn't be able to face him otherwise; and finally, Mickey had relented. Yes, his mother could come for a visit, after all it was his uncle's house, wasn't it? If he wanted her there, then Mickey guessed he did, too.
Ecstatic, Nora had made all the arrangements and had left yesterday afternoon for Summervale . . .
Now, as the speeding taxi entered Clayton Heights, nearing Ross' home, Nora was once more assailed with doubts and her nervousness increased. If only Mickey will forgive me, truly forgive me, she thought fervently, if only he'll accept me again as his mother, then I'll be able to stay in Summervale and try to put together the shattered pieces of my life. But if he won't, I'll have no choice but to leave again, return to Los Angeles, and never see Mickey or Ross or Summervale again. There'll be no love then, no happiness, no future at all for Nora Hammond . . .
The house where Ross Hammond lived with his nephew, Mickey, was a sprawling ranch-style affair, set deep into the property behind heavy shrubbery and tall, redolent pines. There was a large swimming pool in the rear, a cabana, rolling lawn and a flagstone patio, and privacy was assured by high, fence-like hedges on both sides and in the rear. It was comfortable and affluent, without being ostentatious, and its tasteful landscaping and clean lines were indicative of the personality of its owner.
In the huge beam-ceilinged living room, Ross paced nervously, casting glances at his watch. He was a tall, muscular man, with dark brown hair worn long and shaggy in the current fashion; his skin was the color of old leather from many hours in the sun, and his dark eyes contained traces of humor and good-nature and, now, worry and apprehension. His lean, corded body was encased in a white polo shirt and beige slacks and tennis shoes on this day.
Sitting on the couch before the stone-and-mortar fireplace at one end of the room, Mickey Hammond smoked a cigarette in short, quick puffs and tried to act nonchalant. He was taller than his uncle, but with the same general build, and his facial structure favored his father's side of the family, so that there was a superficial resemblance between him and Ross. His dark hair was worn similarly as well, though longer, and his eyes were an intense greenish-brown under thick brows that made him look older than his eighteen years. His handsomeness, however, was more boyish than distinguished as was Ross Hammond's.
Pacing to the window, Ross looked again at his watch. Where is she? he thought with thinly concealed anticipation. She should he here by now. I wish she'd let me pick her up at the train depot, it might have been better that way . . . Ross moistened his lips, and drew a deep breath, releasing it slowly. What will she look like after five years? Will Los Angeles and the life she's led have changed her much? Will she still he as beautiful, as desirable, as she was when she was married to Vern, as I remember her?
He had thought of Nora off and on for the past five years, since she had left with Art Donnell, and while his feelings toward her at first had been bitter-and had later changed to sadness and curiosity and perhaps a little pity-he knew that there was more to it than that, that deep-down he was still a little in love with her, just as he had been from the first moment he saw her those many years ago. Indirectly, Vern had died because of her selfish whim, her foolish hedonistic-desire to run off with Donnell; and Mickey had been left without a father or a mother to guide him (it was a wonder he had turned out as well as he had, having been subjected to life's more sordid aspects in his formative early teens). . Nevertheless, Ross still felt that strong emotional desire for Nora. There had not been many women in his life since the death of his wife, Carla, whom he had loved dearly, several years ago. Only occasionally, when the need became too great, would he seek out a bed-partner for an evening, and when that happened, it was only for a single evening. No other woman, with the exception of Nora, had ever had a deep, meaningful effect on Ross besides Carla. Oh, he was struck by the beauty or sensuality of this one or that one, wanting their bodies, but that was all he wanted to possess-never any more.
Except, perhaps, for Nora, the Nora he had known and coveted in his quiet way more than five years ago . . .
The thoughts which were revolving in young Mickey Hammond's mind were those of doubt and youthfully irrational hatred which had had five years to grow and become firmly implanted-and yet, ambivalently, there was also a remembrance of the love he'd once felt for his mother, the adoration of her beauty and her gentleness, which had never been totally destroyed by the hatred. Now, with the passage of five years' time, Mickey recalled many of the good things of his relationship with his mother-things which he had automatically blocked out of his mind as he heaped the full blame for the destruction of his home-and then for his father's death-on her shoulders.
He wished he knew how he felt, deep down. Did he love her? Or did he hate her? Did he want to see her again, in spite of the vow he had made never to do so? It must be that way, he must want to see her, or else why would he have given in to his uncle's prodding insistence that they allow her to come for a visit? She was a damned slut, running out on him and Dad the way she had-or was she? Maybe Uncle Ross was right, maybe she just made a very human and stupid mistake and was repenting now for what she'd done, and fully deserving of his forgiveness. A person could only be punished so much for their sins, wasn't that right? Maybe his mother had suffered enough . . .
Mickey twisted uncomfortably on the couch, finally got to his feet and went to the window and looked out. The street, visible through the front yard shrubbery, was deserted. He turned away, facing his uncle.
Ross looked at him kindly and smiled. "Nervous, Mickey?" he asked.
Mickey started to deny it, then shrugged and sighed. "Yeah, I guess I am, Uncle Ross."
"It will be all right, you'll see."
"I don't know," Mickey said. "I hope so."
"Just remember that she's your mother, and that in spite of everything, she loves you. She told me that, more than once, on the telephone, Mickey."
"She sure has a funny way of proving her love," Mickey said bitterly.
"Look, son, she knows what she's done and she wants to come home. She needs our help. We can't shut her out now. She's at an emotional crisis point in her life, and if we reject her there's no telling what might happen."
"She rejected us, didn't she?"
"That was a long time ago. She knows better now."
"Does she really?"
"I think so, Mickey, I really think so."
The handsome youth worried his lower lip, turning back to the window. There was movement on the street now, a car-a taxicab-was drawing up in front of the house. Mickey felt a knot form in his throat, and he choked it down. "She . . . she's here," he whispered.
Ross looked out of the window, then put a reassuring hand on his nephew's shoulder, his own anxiousness thinly concealed on his face. "Let's go out and meet her, shall we?"
"Okay."
Ross opened the door and the two of them stepped out onto the flagstone porch area in front. They saw the blonde woman emerge from the taxi, saw the vehicle drive away, and then she was coming through the front gate, carrying a single suitcase in her hand, her steps slow and hesitant. As she approached, Ross felt his heart thudding in his chest at the initial sight of Nora after five years' time; she was thinner than he remembered her, her face drawn, her shoulders stooped with inner torment and weariness. But she was still beautiful, the years had been kind to her firm, ripe body, and her long legs were beautiful beneath the blue dress she wore. Ross' throat was dry, and there was a curious fluttering sensation in the pit of his stomach . . .
Mickey seemed to be frozen immobile by the figure of his mother. The handsome teenage youth was torn between a sudden impulsive urge to turn and rush back into the house-and an equally strong impulse to step forward, greet his mother, take her into his arms as he used to do as a child. There was so much pain in her face, to the way she walked; it wasn't at all as he had expected her to look. Somehow, he had had the mental fantasy that she would be fat and overblown, that the years of easy living in Los Angeles would have added weight and blowsiness to her lovely body and face. Still, she was just a shadow of her former self, of the happy, smiling, gentle woman he had known and loved, and the sight of her brought emotion welling deep within him. Suddenly, with crystal clarity, he knew that he couldn't, wouldn't reject his mother-that she had been hurt enough, that she did need help and understanding . . .
Nora saw the two men standing on the porch ahead, and her step faltered, slowed even more. Then she regained her stride, her eyes wide and shining, and moved toward them. As she drew closer, she recognized Ross' handsome, quietly smiling face; he had not changed much, he was still a strong, silent man, a man she felt somehow close to-a good, kind man. And then her eyes shifted, and she was startled momentarily, her step again faltering. Mickey? she thought. Mickey, is that really you? You . . . you were such an awkward little boy when I . . . I left and now you're grown up, a man, a tall and handsome man. You look like Vern, like Vern and Ross, oh Mickey, Mickey.. .
When Nora reached the porch, she stopped, looking up at the two men there, and she could feel tears forming in her eyes. The three of them stood uncomfortably in the silence of the summer afternoon, looking at one another, only their eyes touching or moving. Nora wanted to smile or speak, but the muscles in her face and throat seemed frozen. Mickey was staring at her with an expression of confusion and discomfort-but without malice, without hatred, Nora's mind rejoiced; and Ross was smiling quietly, his eyes bright.
At long last, Ross stepped forward and took the suitcase gently out of Nora's fingers. Then, softly, he said, "Hello, Nora, it's good to have you back."
It was as if those words were a switch reactivating machines that had abruptly come to a standstill. Nora stepped forward, and as she did, Mickey also moved toward her. Then, with a rush, Nora had flung herself into the arms of Ross and Mickey, crying openly and unashamedly, holding to both of them as if she never wanted to let them go, saying, "Mickey, Mickey, Mickey," over and over again. And they held her, both of them, and over her soft blonde hair Ross met Mickey's eyes, saw the compassion in them, the glimmer of returning love, and he knew that everything was going to be all right.
Nora whispered softly then, lifting her head and looking at each of them in turn, "I'm glad I came, I'm glad I came home.. . "
CHAPTER TWO
Once Nora's things had been put away in the spare bedroom, and she had freshened up after her long journey, the three of them sat on the patio, where it was cooler, and drank ice lemonade which Ross made in two large pitchers. There had not been much said since the tearful reunion on the porch, for a shy awkwardness still existed between the three; but there was no more tension, and each knew that it was only a matter of time before they could be easy and natural with one another.
Nora found herself looking again and again at the handsome face of her son, and she felt a deep ache of pride and love and hope each time. The finest moment in the past year-no, in the past five years-had been the feel of his body pressed against hers there on the porch, for she knew that she had not lost him after all-that there was still a chance for togetherness, for renewal of the once powerful affection they had once had for each other.
Nora sipped at her lemonade, truly at peace for the first time in long, torturous months, and let her gaze wander over the rear yard of Ross' home. She had been here before, of course, but it had been such a long time ago that she had forgotten just how pleasant and comfortable it was. In addition to the large kidney-shaped pool, the patio, and a good-sized dressing cabana on the far side, there was a large expanse of cushiony green lawn, a landscaped rock garden, even a small fountain which seemed to draw birds of several different varieties, their chattering and fluttering filling the quiet afternoon air. The porch behind them was large, with windows facing out on the pool that were covered by rattan curtains, and off on their left was an impressive stone-and-mortar barbecue which Ross had built himself and of which he was inordinately proud.
Yes, it was a beautiful, serene home, Nora thought, and it was too bad that Ross had not taken another wife, after Carla's untimely death, to share it with him. This was the kind of home where a woman could be happy, could know peace and relaxation. Ross should be married again; he was such a fine man, with so much to offer a woman, physically and emotionally as well as materialistically . . .
Ross leaned toward her, smiling, his face radiant. "You wouldn't happen to be just a little hungry, would you, Nora?"
"Well, as a matter-of-fact, I am," she admitted. "I haven't eaten anything since breakfast this morning. . . "
"Good!" Ross enthused. "I've got three thick, juicy steaks in the refrigerator, some French fries, and maybe a tossed salad. How does that sound-steaks barbecued on the grill over there, of course?'
"Wonderful," Nora smiled.
"How about you, Mickey?" Ross asked.
"I guess I could go for a steak," the teenager agreed.
Ross left Nora and Mickey alone for the first time, and there was a faintly strained atmosphere between them. Her son could not seem to look her in the eye, and he fidgeted on his chair. Nora fervently hoped that the uneasiness was only a temporary thing that would vanish with the passage of time. Watching her son covertly, Nora couldn't help but marvel at how handsome he had become, at the firm, muscled contours of his young body, at the fluid, graceful way he moved and carried himself. He was going to be even better looking than Ross-certainly much more virile than Vern. Still, there was much of his father in the way his mouth quirked at the corners, in the shy movement of his hands, in the sensual lidding of his eyes-especially the eyes, bedroom eyes the girls had called them when she'd been a teenager. She remembered how Vern had looked at her when he'd been in a loving mood, when he had wanted to press her warm softness close to him and to slide his hot, hard penis deep up between her open thighs and moan out his love for her . . .
Nora felt her cheeks flame red, thinking back to the lovemaking which had existed between she and Vern. She stifled a low moan of despair which threatened to erupt from her throat, and tried to block the mental image of herself and her dead husband locked together in unimaginative but still powerful desire. She couldn't allow herself to think that way, not now, not when she had been celibate-a self-imposed celibacy, while she tried to sort out the tattered remains of her life-for the past six months. And especially she couldn't allow herself to think that way when she was looking at her own son, her beloved Mickev. What kind of woman was she to think such carnal thoughts in the presence of her own flesh and blood?
Ross returned shortly with the steaks, and the strained atmosphere dissipated. It was much easier when Ross was around, talking in his quiet way, drawing both Nora and Mickey into the conversation, forcing them gently to speak to one another so that a camaraderie was built up between them. He got a fire started in the barbecue, and soon the air was filled with the smell of wood-smoke and with the succulent odor of grilling meat. Nora insisted on helping, and Ross gave her the task of making the salad while he supervised the progress of the steaks. Mickey set the round metal patio table for the meal, and there was an almost party-like aura there by the pool as afternoon faded into evening.
Standing by the barbecue, watching Nora move to the table with the salad, Ross was struck by her beauty-a beauty that pain and anguish could never truly mar. The sight of her, the sinuous way her hips and breasts and thighs moved beneath her dress when she walked, stirred embers in him which had been too long cold, desires that were at once deeply emotional and definitely physical. He was touched at the very core of him by her unaffected sensuality, and there was a building fire in his loins, the fire of burning need. God, he wanted Nora! He wanted to possess her body, to hold her close, to whisper soft words into her ear, to caress her and to love her. He knew he shouldn't be thinking carnal thoughts about her, not now-perhaps not ever-and yet he couldn't help himself; he was captivated by her, more now than he had ever been, and the passion which seethed within him was volatile and demanding. He couldn't do anything about it, of course, and yet . . . maybe, someday, he could . . .
The steaks were delicious, the salad superb, and the meal itself a complete success. The festive mood deepened as dusk settled. It grew cool on the patio, and Ross suggested that they retire to the living room.
Mickey built a crackling fire with pine logs in the stone-and-mortar fireplace, and when it was warm and cheery in the large room, he turned the lights down. They sat in quiet contentment before the blaze for a time, not speaking, thinking their own thoughts as darkness blanketed the house outside and crickets and tree frogs began singing in the shrubbery and grasses. Then Ross said, almost shyly, that he had a surprise for Nora and hurried out of the room, only to return moments later with two chilled bottles of imported champagne in a silver ice bucket.
"What's a homecoming celebration without champagne?" he said lightly.
"Oh Ross . . . you shouldn't have," Nora whispered.
"But I wanted to," Ross told her simply. He smiled at her, then said to Mickey, "Will you do the honors, nephew?"
"Sure," the youth eagerly replied. He worked quickly with a corkscrew, opening one of the bottles, and deftly poured some of the bubbling liquid into three long-stemmed glasses. Nora, watching him, was filled with a glowing pride at the sure movements of his hands-the movements of a man-and she was struck then with a terrible sense of loss for not being there to watch her son, her own flesh and blood, grow from a boy into the handsome, almost adult which he now was.
Ross said, "A toast, to Nora . . . and to her homecoming."
"To . . . Mom," Mickey said.
"And to you both," Nora added, her words thick with emotion.
They raised their glasses and there was a brief, embarrassed moment, then they all drank. The festive mood heightened, and it was as if there had never been a five-year hiatus in their relationship, Ross thought happily, as if they were a close-knit family group that had never been separated by tragedy and human folly . . .
The champagne seemed to make Mickey loquacious. He told his mother how he had caught the pass which won for Summervale High School the conference championship this past year; that he was thinking of entering State next fall, hopefully on a football scholarship, and planning to study
Engineering; that he was going steady with a girl named Peggy Reynolds, who was beautiful, and that things were pretty serious between them.
He was just starting to voice some of his views on the current political situation, and Ross was pouring more champagne into their glasses, when the doorbell rang.
Ross frowned, glanced at his watch; it was almost eight-thirty. Now who could be calling at this hour? He sighed, excused himself, and went to the door, opening it. Standing on the flagstone porch outside was a petite and yet well-endowed and firmly rounded girl of Mickey's age. She wore hot pants, revealing slim, tanned legs, and a summer blouse without sleeves, and her jet black hair was worn long, caressing her shoulders, wisps curling down to touch the full, pear-shaped globes of her breasts. She had an hourglass waist and a round, smooth face, with high cheekbones and a pixie-ish nose; her eyes were a hot, frank brown, very large, containing a smoldering intensity that told of thoughts and emotions far exceeding her eighteen years-a feral look that was enhanced by the richness of her breasts and the tautness of her buttocks beneath the thin material of the hot pants.
She was Peggy Reynolds, Mickey's girlfriend.
Ross did not particularly like the lovely teen-age girl-he thought she was a bitch at heart, that she was a conniving little wanton who cared about nothing and no one but Peggy Reynolds and Peggy Reynolds' pleasures and happiness, and he wished that Mickey had not begun to talk of a permanent attachment to her. She would hurt him in the long run, Ross felt that instinctively-but he had not tried to interfere, knowing that Mickey would have resented any intrusion into his private life; still, he hoped that his nephew would find out the truth about Peggy one of these days, and soon . . . before it was too late.
In spite of his dislike for Peggy, Ross still felt an involuntary quickening of his breath, a pounding of his blood, at the sheer sexuality the young girl exuded. He couldn't keep his eyes from straying over her breasts, over the clearly-defined cleft of her pussy displayed by the too-tight shorts as she thrust her hips forward provocatively. Then he shook his head slightly, feeling his neck flush with embarrassment, and snuffed out the impossibly lewd ideas which had leapt unbidden into his brain.
He put on a reluctant smile of welcome, said, "Hello, Peggy. How are you tonight?"
"Just fine, Ross," she replied, and he knew that she was laughing at him, mocking him, by calling him by his first name.
"Did you want to see Mickey?" he asked her coolly.
"Yes, I did. If it's all right," Peggy answered, and her even white teeth flashed in a knowing smile, for she was well aware of the effect that she had on Mickey's uncle and the knowledge that he secretly wanted her sexually was perversely satisfying; she was a girl who needed, coveted, the attention of all men. And he was handsome, she thought, even more handsome than Mickey. She wondered speculatively if he was good in bed, and if he had a big cock-an even bigger cock than Mickey had, maybe, and Mickey's was huge and felt like a log deep up in her belly . . .
"Won't you come in, Peggy?"
"Thanks, Ross," Peggy said, and stepped past him, allowing her breast to brush across his arm as she did so. Ross shivered slightly, and then guiltily fought down a renewal of his sexual fantasies; damn, what was the matter with him tonight? He had always been able to control himself in the past, his cravings and desires. Perhaps it was the champagne . . . or perhaps, even more probably, it was the arrival of Nora, the nearness of her that had bestirred the long-still fever inside him . . .
Ross followed Peggy into the living room and introduced her, again reluctantly, to Nora. The lovely blonde mother shook hands with the girl, and as she did so she felt a sudden dampening of her spirits. So this was the girl Mickey had talked so glowingly of. Why . . . why, she seemed like nothing but a little slut! Displaying herself in those tight shorts, acting haughty and aloof but certainly not fooling Nora with her attitude; the lovely blonde mother had seen a lot of girls like Peggy Reynolds in Hollywood and environs, and they were all mercenary, hard-hearted individuals who used their youthfully sensuous bodies and their allure to get whatever they wanted. Peggy fitted perfectly into that category, and even though Nora tried to tell herself that she was overreacting, she experienced a growing tide of resentment and dislike nonetheless.
"How do you do, Mrs. Hammond?" Peggy said.
"Fine, thank yon," Nora answered.
"I imagine you're very happy to be home after . . . well, after everything."
Even though Peggy was smiling sweetly, Nora sensed a hidden undercurrent of malice in the girl's voice. She kept her own voice even as she replied, "Yes, I'm very happy to be home."
Mickey crossed to the lovely black-haired teenager and put an arm possessively about her shoulders, kissing her cheek. He grinned happily, looking at Peggy with the love he obviously felt for the girl plainly mirrored on his handsome young face-a look that made Nora turn away. "What brings you here tonight, honey?"
She smiled up at him. "Well, I know you told me your mother was coming home today, but I talked to Walt Conroy a little while ago and he reminded me of the Book Fair they're holding tonight over in Waycross. I know how much you wanted to go, because there'll be used textbooks that you can use in college in September-and I kind of wanted to go myself. It closes at eleven, which is plenty of time if you still care to drive over, and so I thought I'd come by and mention it to you."
"Gee, I forgot all about the Book Fair," Mickey said. "I would like to go, but . . . " He looked at his mother. "Well, I don't think I can make it, Peg. Mom's home now and we're having a kind of celebration . . . "
"Oh please, Mickey," Nora said quickly, wanting to please him, wanting him to know that she was on his side. "If you want to go to the Book Fair, you go ahead. I understand perfectly."
"I don't know . . . "
"Books are important, very important, and if you have the chance to pick some up cheaply you should do so," Nora told him. "Why don't you and . . . Peggy go ahead?"
"Thanks, Mrs. Hammond," Peggy said sweetly. "Well, Mickey? Shall we go?"
"I guess so," Mickey replied. "As long as it's okay with Mom. And Uncle Ross."
"I think you should," Ross said, for he wanted, suddenly and acutely, to be alone with Nora. He felt a sense of impending excitement that he couldn't exactly define, a need to explore his relationship with his dead brother's lovely blonde wife, a need to be close to her with no one else around. It was a physical need as much as it was an emotional one, a product of his long-repressed feelings and desires for this woman who had been married to his brother, and even though he tried to tell himself that there could be no real intimacy between he and Nora-tonight, maybe never-he couldn't rid himself of the growing fires of desire which suddenly flamed within him.
It was decided that Mickey and Peggy would go to the Book Fair in Waycross, and Nora and Ross walked the teenagers to the door. Once there, Mickey seemed to want to kiss his mother, and she hoped fervently that he would do so; but instead, he just touched her hand and said, "Good night, Mom," and Nora knew that things were not yet back to any semblance of true normalcy-though she felt that the chance that they would one day be was strong and very real.
When Peggy and Mickey had gone, Ross sighed and took Nora's arm, the touch of her flesh sending little shivers of delight through him, and guided her back into the living room. "How about some more champagne?" he suggested as they sat down facing the fire again.
"All right," Nora answered, and Ross poured their glasses full. They drank, then she said, "Ross, I don't like that girl . . . that Peggy. I don't think she's . . . right for Mickey."
"Neither do I," Ross admitted.
"Is he really serious about her?"
"I'm afraid he's getting that way."
"Isn't there anything we . . . you can do to dissuade him?"
"I don't think so. He's a pretty stubborn boy when he thinks something is right, and at the moment he thinks Peggy is right."
"Has it gotten to the marital stage yet?"
"No," Ross said, "but it may be pretty close."
"She's . . . well, she's pretty obvious, Ross. Do you know what I mean?"
"All too well," Ross answered.
Abruptly, Nora laughed-a soft, bitter, painful laugh. "Look who's calling the kettle black," she whispered. "What right do I have to judge other people, after the mess I've made of my own life."
"That's all in the past," Ross comforted her. "There's the future to look forward to now, and that will all be different."
"Oh I hope so, Ross, I hope so desperately."
"It will be," he said positively. He raised his glass. "To the future, Nora . . . to your future, and to Mickey's, and to mine."
"To the future," she replied, and they touched glasses and drank.
They had two more pourings of the effervescent liquid, emptying the first bottle, and Ross opened the second. He could feel his entire body growing warm with heat that had nothing whatsoever to do with the crackling fire before him. His breathing grew somewhat irregular, and he moved closer to Nora on the couch. There was a deep tingling in the pit of his stomach, down low in his groin, and no amount of mental urging would dispel it. He could no longer deny the obvious: he wanted his brother's wife, he wanted her now, tonight; it was almost as if he had to have her or else he would explode with the seething passions spiraling through his flesh . . .
The more Nora drank of the champagne, the more warmly contented she began to become, putting thoughts of Peggy Reynolds completely out of her mind, reveling in the feeling of being wanted, cared for, at last after all the months of desperate loneliness. She felt happy, excited, with the potential salvaging of some of what she had lost when she made her foolish decision five years past. And not only these emotions and hopes and joys were once again living inside Nora Hammond; another, baser need began to make itself felt in her mind, a restless wanting that she had not allowed herself to feel since Art Donnell had forced her out of his home and his life, but which was reborn strongly in her present mood.
She had not had sex, had not had the release of her strong sexual passions, in six full months. She needed, wanted, a man right now.
Nora moistened her lips, recklessly draining more of the champagne. She was completely, painfully, aware of Ross sitting next to her-handsome, gentle, quiet, virile Ross, the brother of Vern, who resembled Vern so much, who had a lean, hard-muscled body just as Vern had had, who possibly would be a far better lover than Vern had ever been . . .
No, no! Nora thought. Oh God, no, I can't think like that, I can't! He's almost like a brother to me, and he's been so kind and good these past few weeks . . . and before that, too, taking Mickey in, giving him a home . . . I could destroy everything if I let my feelings run away with me, I could make him hate me, make him turn me out and away from Mickey. No, as much as I might want a man, want Ross, at this moment, I can't . . . I can't . . . I have to stop thinking about such things because they're impossible, completely and totally . . .
Suddenly, Nora felt the pressure of Ross' warm, masculine thigh against her own as he moved closer to her on the couch, and she turned to face him. His eyes were shining, his cheeks flushed and sheened lightly with perspiration, and his gaze locked and held with her own.
"Nora, oh Nora . . . " he whispered huskily.
"Ross," she responded, and she said his name with a kind of awed incredulousness, as she realized that the same thoughts and feelings she had just been thinking were mirrored on his face, had been in Ross' mind as well. He wanted her! He wanted Nora as much as she wanted him!
Ross, too, was aware of the growing excitement in Nora, and his heart leapt joyously. Incredible as it seemed, she felt the same as he did, the attraction was not all one-sided-Nora was hungry for his flesh, just as he was for hers! He ached to touch her, to caress her firm, full breasts, to tangle his fingers in that soft, soft blonde hair as he kissed her pink, soft lips; he ached to press her voluptuously curved body tight against his own, to love her, to fuse their bodies together in the ultimate expression of feeling. It was crazy, it was irrational, and yet he was powerless to stop the surging passion, the wild need, which consumed him, especially now that he knew how Nora was feeling at this moment. His penis jerked into slow arousal in his trousers, and his testicles began to throb with building sperm as he stared into Nora's eyes, irrefutably saw the desire growing there as it was growing in his own eyes. Neither of them could deny their passion to the other, not now, not and have it believed . . .
Simultaneously, they both leaned forward to place their empty champagne glasses on the coffee table. Then they leaned back against the couch again, their bodies turned toward one another, and continued to lock their eyes together. Nora squeezed hers tightly shut then, wetly parted her lips, and Ross could hold himself in check no longer. His arms lifted and pulled her to him, his mouth covered hers, completely engulfing her lips with his warm, moist ones. Nora's tongue flicked forward immediately to slip past his teeth and into his mouth, and she was moaning now, her hand circling his neck, pressing his head tightly, molding their mouths together like the fusing of molten ore into an alloy. His fingers caressed her shoulder, moved down as if they were entities of their own that he had no command over, moved lightly over the trembling hot swell of her breast. Their tongues were sawing mercilessly in and out of one another's mouth now, in an attitude of excited copulation, and Nora made tiny, excited mewling sounds in her throat.
Ross felt his cock stir into full, turgid hardness, and he pulled her tighter to him, reveling in the feel of her body, her mouth, for the first time, thinking wildly that she was everything he had ever thought she would be, that he had loved her all along, that nothing else mattered but her-all of her, every cell of her. His fingers closed over her soft, resilient breast, kneaded the warmly trembling flesh, his prick throbbing painfully now, his breath shuddering hotly into the beautiful blonde woman's mouth as hers was thundering into his, deep moans of desire purling from the very core of Nora's being.
She knew that this was wrong, that she ought to stop it before it was too late, but she did not want to stop it, she wanted it to happen, she wanted Ross to make love to her as she had wanted no man since Art Donnell in the early days of their relationship. What's the matter with me? she thought dizzily. Am I really that much of a slut that I can't control myself the first night I come home . . . oohhh hut it's been so long, so long, and my pussy is on fire for Ross . . . I can't wait to feel his penis inside me, I can't wait. . .
Ross guided her down on the soft couch, and now his right hand was sliding upward along her bare thigh, sliding along the hot skin up under the hem of the ice-blue dress she wore. Higher and higher it moved, causing Nora to shiver with her mounting passion, and then the tips of his fingers were touching the smooth nylon crotch band covering her vagina, slipping up and down the hotly moistening furrow as she widened her legs to assist his ministrations.
Ooooh, his fingers feel so good, they feel so good between my legs! Hurry, Ross! Ah God, hurry and finger fuck me!
Ross' probing fingers, as though anticipating her thoughts, pushed the flimsy elastic leg band of the panties aside, extending his middle finger to slip it teasingly up into the wet, trembling passage of her pussy, exulting in the fevered thought that she would soon be his, that he would be putting his cock where his finger was right now very, very soon. He brought the finger up, up along the burning wetness of her passion-drenched cunt to the hardened bud of her clitoris, playing with it, reveling in the feel of her softness and the vibrating arousal of her firm, perfectly curved body, his breath exploding like the juices of orgasm from his mouth into hers, his tongue fucking between her lips mercilessly.
Then Ross removed his working finger from her clasping hot channel, and his hands were feverish as he sought to make her naked, to remove the dress and undergarments which clothed the hot flesh that he lusted so desperately to see and touch. The dress unbuttoned easily, and Nora dazedly helped him pull it over her head, drop it onto the floor at the foot of the couch. Her bra was next, cascading onto the puddled dress, revealing the hard-nippled, quivering mounds of her full, whitely rounded breasts; then her panties, drawn slowly, slowly down over her smooth curved hips and thighs by Ross' eager fingers, while Nora obediently raised her buttocks from the couch to help him. At last her soft, fleecy blonde pubic triangle came into view, wet with the juices of her arousal, then the petal-like, softly blonde-fringed expanse of her moist hot cunt was in full view of his loving, passion-fired eyes.
The sensuously aroused woman felt spasmodic little jolts of pleasure ripple through her flesh as Ross moaned and his big hands closed over her taut, firm breasts. She heard him gasp in further delight as his thumbs rolled over the large, distended, pink-tinged nipples, making them harder -and then she felt his head lower onto her chest, felt his hot, wet mouth encompass one of the aching peaks, flicking and rolling it maddeningly with his fiery tongue. She groaned in sheer delight, and her hips began an intense, undulating rhythm on the couch as Ross continued to suck hungrily and wetly at her nipple while he moved on the couch beside her, groaning out his excitement at her perfectly preserved womanhood.
His hands and mouth left her flesh then, and Nora with mounting fervor, knew that he was making himself as naked as she was, that she would soon feel Ross inside her, that she would soon be loved again, loved again, needed again . . .
"Ooooohhh!" she moaned in wild abandon. "Ooohhh, Ross darling, hurry, hurry!"
Her eyes fluttered open in that moment and she looked at him, saw him kneeling on the floor beside her, saw him naked for the first time. Her gaze moved down his corded, lean body and came to rest on his loins-on his thick, turgid, blood-swollen penis standing out hugely, proudly from his dark-haired lower abdomen. She drew in her breath sharply, her eyes going wide. God it's so big! she thought in further ecstasy, her thighs opening and closing spasmodically at the prospect of soon having such a huge, pleasure-giving shaft slicing hotly up between them. It's so much bigger than Vern's, so much bigger even than Art's . . . oooohhhh, I can't wait to feel all of that inside me, I'll go out of my mind if I don't have it pretty soon . . .
"Nora," Ross whispered, "my darling, Nora, oh Nora, I love you, I want you so much!"
"Hurry, Ross, do it to me, do it to me now!"
The handsome uncle of her teenage son raised up onto the couch, settled his hirsute body beside hers, and his head dipped down once again to her whitely quivering breasts. She moaned softly with lewdly unleashed desire as she watched him take first one nipple, then the other into his warmly salivating mouth, licking and sucking the rigid fruit until she wanted to scream from the waves of pleasure washing through her fevered body. Her hand searched down between their tightly clasped nakedness, located the rock-hardness of his cock. He gasped as the hot, searing tips of her fingers closed over his rigid shaft, and then his mouth lifted and closed over hers and their tongues lashed and twirled one another, as if trying to blend into one. She crushed the full length of her body against his and ground her pelvis hard into him, then twisted suddenly, pulling him over on top of her, opening her legs wide as they would go, her soft, hot cunt flared open, secreting the fermentations of her desire, waiting for his invasion of her soft, moist recesses.
Nora's hands were running wildly up and down along his body, tracing the hard muscles of his shoulders, the cleft of his back, the hard, muscular buttock cheeks, exploring all of him. His prick rested hard now, trailing web-like threads of semen, against her thighs, pressed into the narrow, hair-lined slit of her open pussy. She arched for a moment, levering their entwined bodies up with the strength of her back, reached around under her buttocks then with both hands and with her long, well-manicured fingernails spread her vaginal lips slowly apart, giving his cock greater contact with the moist, sensitive flesh as it lay cradled down into the full length of her wet, throbbing furrow. She relaxed, dropping her body back to the couch, her ex-husband's brother's turgid shaft trapped hotly between her moist hot thighs.
He forced his hands between her shoulders and the bed and ran them down the soft curves of her spine and hips, making little mewling sounds deep in his throat to match the ones she was gasping forth. The raised ridges of her spine felt hot to him as she undulated her magnificently proportioned body against him in slow, teasing rhythm. Muscles rippled lightly just under the thin tanned skin, giving testimony to the feline power she possessed-a woman built for sensual pleasure, needing it in order to survive, loving it and embracing it. The tenseness of the cords in her thighs pressed against the outside of his hips, and he wondered vaguely how they would grip him moments from now, when he sent his rock-hard cock burrowing far, far up into her quivering, waiting belly.
Breathing raggedly, his brain aflame with lusting desire, Ross pushed his hands farther down beneath her, cupping the fullness of her buttocks in the palms of his sweat-slick hands, pulling her dampened furrow hard against his masculinity. He moved up and down the fiery slit, sensing it grow hotter and wetter as her passion seethed out of her. Her hips began a more desperate rotation up against his loins until her legs, without warning, snaked out wide on either side of him, her calves hooking over and locking against the back of his thighs, pulling him tighter to her in a crablike position.
"Oooooaaaahhhhhh!" she wailed in delirious ecstasy. "Ross . . . Ross, darling, do it to me, put it up inside me . . . let me feel your cock inside me . . . I want to feel it, darling, give it to me now, right this second!"
Her pelvis was grinding forward as she spoke, and her hands were already between their bodies, circling his palpitating shaft to guide it between the moist lips of her hot, eagerly waiting pussy. Ross groaned animally as he felt his ex-sister-in-law's hands move his hardened cock up and down between her widely splayed legs, running the full length of her soft, moist crotch, parting the wet, blonde, fleece of her vagina with the blood-engorged tip. The pressure in his testicles was excruciating now, and he knew he couldn't hold back another second. He had to ram it, deep and hard inside her hotly waiting cunt, just as she wanted him to do! He had to fuck her!
Ross flexed his hips with a sudden driving thrust that drove his huge, rock-hard penis deep into the gaping wet mouth up between her voluntarily parted thighs, drove it into her hotly constricting belly with a flesh-splitting force.
"Uuuuuuuaaaahhhhh!" Nora squealed beneath him, but it was the scream of thankfulness, of ecstasy, rather than the scream of pain.
Ross felt the smooth pulsating cunt walls slip wetly, hotly, around his fleshy rod, consuming it as it raced to the full depths of her vaginal sheath, the copiously seeping walls lubricating the way. Suddenly, the full length of his immense hardness was buried inside her, the swollen head thudding harshly off the moist delight of her waiting cervix, his balls slapping with a resounding staccato sound against the nakedly mooned cheeks of her ass. Then, having conquered her with every thick inch of his maleness, he began immediately to fuck into her squirming, pliant flesh beneath him, his body attuning itself to hers as she fucked her hungrily clasping pussy desperately back up against him, matching his stroking, urging him on harder and faster with tiny passionate purling sounds as she licked and suckled his ear, panting hot wet words of encouragement into it.
"Mmmmmmm, that's it, darling, that's it, aaaahhhh, that's the way I want to be loved, deep and hard, oh Ross, I love the way you fill me up, I can feel every inch of your cock, darling sweet keep doing me harder, harder, harder, aaahhh . . . ! "
And she thought, It's beautiful, it's so beautiful, this is the best it's ever been, oh Ross, I love you, I love you, I love you . . . it's so perfect, so perfect, nothing can spoil it now, I feel alive again, truly alive, and nothing can spoil it now . . .
* * *
As far as Mickey was concerned, the Book Fair in Waycross was a fat disappointment. They had nowhere near the selection their advertisements had promised, although, as Peggy pointed out, it was pretty late in the day and maybe they had done a whopping good business earlier. Still, Mickey found only one book that he could use-an Engineering text that he saved only two dollars on-and as he and Peggy prepared to leave after only half-an-hour of browsing, he found himself wishing he had stayed home with his mother and his uncle Ross. After all, today was a kind of special occasion, and it was only proper that he spend the time with his . . . family.
He felt a faint, warm inner glow as he drove his lime green Corvette, a present from his uncle when he'd graduated from Summervale High that June, out of Waycross and onto the two-lane road which connected the two towns five miles apart. He knew, with a sense of well-being, that the glow was a result of seeing his mother again, of having her home once again, in spite of all she had done to him and to his father in the past. Things were very clear in his mind now; he knew that he had been wrong to turn so completely against his mother, for her guilt and her repentance were plainly evident on her face and in her eyes, and Mickey was compassionately aware-as his Uncle Ross was-that Nora Hammond had suffered more than enough for her sins. He was ready to forgive her now, for he had discovered, that afternoon and evening, that he still loved his mother, had loved her all along, and wanted to be with her and help her from now on . . .
Mickey drove swiftly, as he liked to do; he was a good driver, and the Corvette responded to the deft, sure commands he placed on the gleaming sports car. Peggy leaned close to him, pressing her thigh against his across the chrome console, pressing her swelling soft breast against his arm, and he could smell the fragrance of her jet-black hair as she snuggled her head onto his shoulder. The handsome teenage youth felt his breath catch in his throat at the nearness of the beautiful, provocative girl, and he felt a fresh surge of the love and desire he had come to feel for her. He was the luckiest guy in Summervale, maybe in the whole state, to have such a warm, passionate, lovely woman as Peggy Reynolds was, and his heart threatened to burst with pride every time he was seen with her. He couldn't wait to make her his wife, to settle down into a home with her and have two or three kids-an existence that would make him blissfully happy for the rest of his . . .
Peggy whispered, "Mickey, sweet?"
"Mmmmmm?"
"Let's go up to Lookout Peak and park for a while." Her voice was husky and soft, and she nibbed her breast against his arm like a cat.
"Gee, Peg I don't know. I want to get home tonight. Like I told you, it's kind of a special occasion . . . "
"Sweetie, let's park for just a little while," Peggy insisted. "I'm on fire for you tonight."
"Peg, we're going out tomorrow night. We can go up to the Peak then, and-"
"Mickey, baby, my pussy is wild for your cock right now," she breathed throatily. "I'm hot as hell for you."
"Peg . . . I wish you wouldn't talk like that," Mickey scolded her. "You know I don't like it."
"You liked it Monday night," she giggled. "You liked it when I told you how I wanted to take your big cock in my mouth and suck on it like
'"Peg!"
"Oh, all right, you old prude," she pouted. "Peg, I want you too, you know that. I can't get enough of you, honey. But . . . well, tonight just isn't a good time. Try to understand, okay."
"I understand," Peggy said coolly. "I'll make it up to you tomorrow night, I really will," Mickey told her, feeling a stirring of desire in his loins, for the sexuality she exuded affected him like an aphrodisiac every time he was with her. "I'll do it to you three times, in three different positions, and then I'll eat you up, I'll eat all of you up!"
Peggy giggled again, delightedly, forgetting her pout. "Promise, sweet."
"Promise."
"Okay, then," Peggy said, and rubbed her breast against his arm kittenishly again. "I can hardly wait . . . "
They reached Summervale, drove through the quiet, dark streets into Clayton Heights. When they neared Ross Hammond's home, Mickey said, "Listen Peg, why don't you come in for a few minutes before I take you home? You can have a glass of champagne, and get to know my mother a little. I know her and Uncle Ross will still be up; we haven't been gone very long."
"Oh . . . I guess I could," Peggy acquiesced. "I really like champagne."
"Good," Mickey grinned, and squeezed her thigh possessively with his free hand. Peggy caught his wrist, slid his fingers into the tight, hot crevice between her legs, parting her thighs slightly to accept his hand.
"Mmmmmmrnmm!" she crooned contentedly.
Mickey turned the Corvette onto his uncle's street, then into the driveway alongside the house, the quiet engine making a soft purring sound in the stillness-nothing more. He switched off the engine and the lights, and he and the lovely young girl slipped out of the car.
Taking her hand, Mickey said, "We'll go in through the kitchen. Uncle Ross always keeps the door there unlocked, and I forgot my front door key."
"Okay."
They started along the cinder path which hugged the side of the sprawling, modern house. It was very quiet, with just the sound of the crickets to disturb the silence. Through the partially open living room window just ahead, Mickey could see the flickering light from the fireplace, which told him that his mother and uncle were, indeed, still up. He and Peggy moved forward-and it was then that they heard the sounds coming from inside the living room.
They were low, moaning, panting sounds, co-mingled with the distinct labored squeaking of couch springs, and both teen-agers stopped. Peggy leaned against Mickey, whispering, "What was that?"
"I.. . I don't know."
"Let's go look!"
"Peg.. . "
But she was leading him off the path, over to the window; the drapes had not been fully drawn across it, and there was a foot-wide section which allowed them both to see clearly into the house, into the living room illuminated brightly by the dancing flames of the pine log fire.
Mickey's eyes blinked rapidly for a moment, then focused on what was transpiring on the couch before the fireplace, on the sight of the two sweating, nakedly straining bodies plunging against one another there. It . . . it was his Uncle Ross! And . . . and . . . and.. .
Oh Jesus Christ, no!
His mother!
His mother and his Uncle Ross were fucking in wild, heaving abandon before his vertj eyes!
CHAPTER THREE
A startled, disbelieving gasp strangled in Mickey's throat and he stood absolutely motionless for a long, breathless second. Then his body began to sway and his vision clouded, and it seemed for a moment he would collapse. He put out his hand blindly, encountered the wall beside the window, and leaned his weight against it, his brain filled with the searing mental image of his mother, his mother, receiving every hard, throbbing inch of his uncle's thick, hard penis in the soft hair-fringed folds of her plainly visible pussy! He couldn't believe it, he just couldn't . . . Mickey rubbed hot, viscid sweat from his eyes with his free hand, clearing his vision once more, and then stared at the carnally lustful sight his stupefied brain was having difficulty comprehending.
It was true . . . it was horribly, terribly, impossibly true!
The shocked young teen-ager fought to sort out his wildly swirling thoughts, fought to clear his brain of the haze of his benumbed senses, fought to search his soul for some explanation to the lascivious carnality being enacted there before him in his uncle's living room. But he couldn't conceive of an answer, could only stare as if hypnotized at the salacious actions of the woman he had thought he could forgive and love again, and of the man who had always been so gentle and kind to him. Dimly, he felt an overpowering desire to turn and run, run far away from the shocking view, but he was somehow powerless to move. It was as if his legs were no longer a part of him, unresponsive to the commands of his brain. He stared with bulging eyes at the lewd sight, at the twisting, naked form of his mother, at the contorted ecstasy on her lovely face, at the soft litheness of her body glistening in the flickering firelight while his uncle pounded savagely into her wide splayed cunt with his long, hard penis . . .
Suddenly, insanely, Mickey's cock too, began to stir and throb crazily in his pants, to rise slowly into an erection as he stared at the sexual antics being performed in front of his eyes. No, no, he couldn't be getting excited, he couldn't! And yet he was . . . he was becoming aroused watching his own voluptuously built mother, the woman who had borne him, the woman he wanted to love again, being fucked shitless by his own uncle!
A deep moan of despair coursed through him silently. You bitch, you filthy bitch, he thought sobbingly. Oh goddamn you, why did you have to come home, this is your fault, I know it is, you did this, you seduced Uncle Ross, you did this, Mom, damn you . . .
But the abrupt and unreasoning hatred he felt for his mother in that moment had no effect whatsoever in dispelling his arousal. The sheer lascivious actions of the nakedly writhing couple on the couch just a few feet away held him spellbound, and his cock was a screaming thing seeking escape from the cage of his trousers. Emotions fought and raged within him as he continued to stare with wild eyes at the scene in the living room, hearing their moans and cries, hearing his mother groan, "Oh yes, yes, yes, that's it, Ross, darling, give it to me good, oh you feel so good inside me, aahhhhhhhh I don't think I can hold back much longer . . . ! "
And his uncle's voice, distorted with ecstasy, "Neither can I baby, I'm going to cum soon, I'm going to fill you up with my love for you, oooohhhhhh!"
Standing close to the shocked and immobile form of Mickey, pressing her hot, soft body close to his, Peggy was also staring at the lust-inciting sight of the couple on the living room couch. Damn oh damn! she thought, will you look at that! I never thought I'd see anything like that in my life! Mickey's uncle and Mickey's mother . . . hoy oh boy oh boy, he's really fucking it to her, really throwing that cock of his into her . . . and such a big cock too, just as I thought it would be, even bigger than Mickey's . . . ohhh such a lovely his. cock Mr. Ross Hammond has!
Peggy could feel excited, initial droplets of lubricant fluid began to flow from the sensitive walls of her eager young cunt, moistening the petal-like lips, her fleecy black pubic hair, the thin white crotch band of her panties, causing her to open and close her thighs spasmodically. Her nipples hardened like granite chips beneath her blouse, and the large globes of her breasts began to throb with excitement. This was the most enticing sight she had ever seen, and it was sending the juices of her insatiable passion raging out of control. She had already been hot and ready on this night, wanting Mickey anyway, and now, witnessing what she was, she was half out of her mind with churning, delicious desire.
Oh God, she wanted a cock inside her! She wanted Ross Hammond's big cock inside her, that's what she wanted! But she couldn't have that, not tonight, probably never, but she could have Mickey's; she knew the effect she had on him, the powers of her persuasion, and she wanted him to fuck her right here, right now, while they watched his mother and his uncle going at it less than ten feet away. But would he want to? He hadn't moved, he was still staring into the living room, he was breathing faster and his eyes were all glazed over . . .
Peggy let her eyes drift down to the front of his trousers, and exultancy swept through her. He had a hard-on! Yes, yes, she could see it sticking out the front of his pants there, his big cock was hard, he was as excited as she was at what he was seeing! He was half-wild with lust watching his mother and his uncle fucking . . . it was too good to be true and yet it was true, there was no denying it.. .
She had to take advantage of the situation before Mickey came to his senses, before he could do anything like pull her away from there. She had to control the situation, make him want her, and soon, soon, before the wildly fucking couple inside reached their climax . . . Peggy thrust her body harder against his, rubbing her breast up and down his arm, her aching, secreting pussy against his thigh. Then her right hand was gliding down to cup and stroke his cloth-encased erection, while at the same time she put her mouth to his ear and let her hard, wet, pink little tongue dart teasingly inside.
Mickey moaned softly, trying half-heartedly to twist away from her, but she held tightly to his cock and his balls, stroking them, flicking her tongue into his ear until he was quivering with excitement, his eyes staring through the window. Then she was murmuring into his ear. "Look at them, honey, look at your mother with her legs locked up around your uncle's back, look at them fucking . . . they're really going at it, loving every second, look at the way they're fucking . . . fucking . . . fucking.. . "
"Oh God, oh God.. . "
"Why don't you and I do the same thing, Mickey sweet?" she intoned tantalizingly. "Why don't we fuck like they're fucking, all of us fucking together, right here, right now . . . your cock is so hard, Mickey, I can feel it, wouldn't you like me to bend over in front of you and have it inside my pussy, sweet, fucking deep and hard into my pussy, cumming deep in my belly with your hot, beautiful cum . . . "
A low, tortured, guttural sound purled from the lust-incited teen-ager's throat-and by that sound, Peggy knew that she had won. She whispered, "I'm going to take your cock out, sweet, I'm going to take it out right now and hold it in my hand . . . then I'm going to make you naked and myself naked and we're going to fuck right here while we watch your uncle and your mother . . . "
Mickey just stood there while the panting young teen-age girl unfastened his belt, pulled his trousers down and his undershorts down, and began to stroke his naked, bulging cock, her little finger extended downward to tantalize the burgeoning sac of his balls. Then she was unbuttoning her blouse with her free hand, shrugging it off there in the darkness, the lust-inciting sounds of lovemaking filling her with tremendous urgency, causing her pussy to palpitate with crazed desire. Her hot pants were next, puddled at her feet, and she was completely naked for she wore no bra and no panties. She pressed her naked, firm breasts against Mickey's bare arm, rolling the nipples back and forth through the thick hair on his forearm, reveling in the feeling that motion generated inside her, and then she began kissing him on the neck and throat with her hot, moist lips as she continued to fondle and caress his prick and testicles.
Peggy gingerly turned his body just enough so that his cock was jutting toward her but not enough to hamper his view of what was happening inside the house. Then she began rubbing his swollen, throbbing young cock up and down her secreting cuntal slit, teasing the head through the soft, wet fringes of her pussy hair, causing both of them to moan softly with spiraling delight.
Against his ear she breathed, "I want you to fuck me now, Mickey sweet, fuck me while we watch. Hurry now! I'll lean forward against the window sill and you get behind me and put your big cock in my cunt . . . fuck me good and hard from behind . . . hurry now, hurry Mickey and fuck me, I can't wait much longer for your cock in my belly.. . "
His girlfriend broke away from him momentarily, leaning forward with her hands braced against the window sill so that she had a good, clear view of what was transpiring within. Then she arched her back downward, lifting her naked, white-sheened buttocks up to Mickey, wiggling them tantalizingly, parting her legs wide so that he could see the wetly waiting opening of her thin, sparsely bearded little pussy. She reached behind her, found Mickey's hugely erect cock and grasped it tightly, guiding it to her nakedly bent buttocks, moving the wetly lubricated head over each of her hotly quivering ass cheeks in movements that caused the fires of her passion to spiral almost to the pinnacle of release.
Mickey was totally enslaved by lust now, no longer able to control himself or his emotions. A small part of his brain cried, Don't do this, it's wrong, that's your mother and your uncle fucking like crazy in there! Don't do this . . . don't let it happen . . . get away from here before it's too late! But Peggy's fingers were like fire on his naked cock, guiding the impatiently palpitating head across her whitely quivering young buttocks, and her manipulations and the intensely erotic sight of his uncle fucking long and hard into his mother just a few feet away made the pressure in his young balls almost excruciating. He had to shoot his cum, he had to fuck Peggy, he had to, he had to!
Peggy was breathing so harshly now, she felt sure the nakedly joined couple inside the living room could hear her. But she couldn't control her gasping, consumed totally by the powerful emotions seething through her young, vibrant flesh. But neither Ross nor Nora would have heard a cannon firing at that moment, for both were striving with every fiber of their beings for the release of the great buildup of cum inside the handsome uncle's wetly glistening prick, moaning and slashing at one another. And Peggy watched in delirious, mindless anticipation, watched Mickey's mother grip her ankles tighter around Ross' buttocks, pound her heels on the jerking moons, moaning over and over, "Cum, Ross, cum Ross, cum Ross, oooohhhh darling, cummmmmmmm!"
The lovely, black-haired teen-ager couldn't wait any longer. She guided Mickey's prick, filled with swirling blood and hot semen near-ready to erupt, over the warmly flexing little nether ring of her anus, causing her to jerk spasmodically, and then into the wet, hot furrow between her openly splayed legs. She teased the hard, rubbery tip up and down the moist cleft, over her aching clitoris, through the wet, fiery folds of her cunt lips, her thighs opening and closing in wild abandon. Then she worked the blood-engorged head of his palpitating cock into her trembling, waiting pussy . . .
The pressure in the handsome teen-age youth's balls climbed and soared, and the churning, velvety buttocks of the young lovely girl spread before him were an invitation that he was unable to resist. He leaned forward, not taking his eyes off the twisting, jerking couple inside the living room, off his uncle and his mother in there, and ran his hands up and down Peggy's nakedly exposed hips in spasmodic movements while the full girth of his cockhead slipped wetly into her hot, tight cunt, a wet, clasping passage that was soft, soft, as soft as warm flowing honey around his aching prick . . .
Mickey suddenly levered forward, out of control with desire, and the full length and girth of his heaving young cock flashed through the moist, clutching walls of the youthful girl's cunt, filling her, battering off her cervix, hot and hard and thick deep in her belly, and Peggy felt a maddening ecstasy as she began to roll and fling her buttocks back against his invading member. It's never been this good! she thought mindlessly. Never, never, never! Oh God, oh God, getting fucked while watching Mickey's mother and uncle fucking inside there . . . what a thrill, what a real kick this is . . . aaaaaahhmmmmmmmm!
She moaned silently, happily, excitedly, as the handsome youth's sweating, naked loins pressed firmly against her undulating, up-thrust buttocks-and all of his great rod lay buried in the warm wet sheath of her pussy, fucking into her in superb strokes that caused her whole body to vibrate with desire. The warm, moistened walls of her tight young cunt clasped his cock like a soft, olive oil filled fist, and Mickey groaned deep in his throat, then withdrew until only the head of his shaft lay within the fire-hot wetness of her vaginal mouth. He stared down at his glistening shaft, slick with her lubrication, for a moment before returning his glazed eyes to the straining figures of his mother and uncle in the dancing firelight within the living room.
His youthful hips drove forward with ever-increasing speed, his hands kneading and squeezing her buttocks, as his long, hard cock flashed up into her now-widened cuntal tunnel, the passage accepting it eagerly. She rolled and twisted her hips back against his bucking loins as waves of delicious pleasure surged through her trembling young body, further enhanced by the salacious sight she too was witnessing. Then Mickey leaned forward, resting his head on her spine, kissing the soft black strands of her hair, and his hands slid under her twisting body to cup and caress the dancing globes of her firm, taut young breasts. Peggy moaned softly, then took one of his hands and slid it down over her sweating stomach to the hot, wet curls of her pubic fleece. She began to move his hand up and down there, extending his middle finger so that it parted her hair-lined young pussy lips and tantalizingly moved back and forth over her erect, throbbing clitoris as his cock plunged deep and hot and hard into her cunt below. It wouldn't be long now, Peggy knew;, it wouldn't be much longer before he would cum and she would cum and the wildly fucking couple, her boyfriend's mother and uncle, in the house would cum too . . .
Bathed in the hot, bright glow of firelight, Nora and Ross were completely lost in a frenzy of near-completion, thrashing wildly, madly on the couch as they both sought their climaxes. Nora rotated her hips from side to side around the fleshy impaling pole of her ex-husband's brother's magnificent shaft pressed far up into her quivering belly, her vagina dilating in time to its rhythmic hammering, its tiny contracting muscles nibbling greedily at the inflated head of his swollen cock. The lips of her softly hair-lined pink slit pulled tantalizingly away, sliding moistly down his rod for several inches and then nibbling slowly back up, buffering her wet blonde pubic hair tightly against his own bristling black growth, imbedding the full length of him deep, deep into the warm, soft recesses of her hungrily churning stomach.
Nora groaned wildly under his pumping body, and Ross could feel his cock growing and expanding inside her until it felt now as though it were going to burst from the exquisite pleasure building in his scrotum. He had to cum soon, he had to, he had to . . . he had deprived himself of this wondrous sensation for too long, he had forgotten just how wonderful it could be with a woman he really cared for, a woman like Nora . . .
He wanted her to cum too, to mingle his bursting juices with hers simultaneously, and he began fucking into her still harder. She gripped him tight with her imprisoning thighs, opening and closing them around him in time to his long hard thrusts, and he knew that Nora was fast approaching her orgasm even without her moaning confirmation.
"Hurry, cum Ross, darling, cum, cum, I'm going to cum to, I want you to cum and fill me up, oooooohhhhhhhh!" she moaned in mesmeric abandon.
"Yes, darling, fill you up, fill you up . . . "
"Ooooooooo!"
"Nora, Nora, Nora!"
"Do me harder, fuck me, fuck me, oh Ross, I'm . . . I'm almost there . . . fuck me, Ross, harder, harder, harder . . . ! "
She continued to chant her encouragement, over and over, drawing each syllable and cry of delight out, spurring him on to greater heights with her obscene mumblings, pounding her heels with rhythmic tempo on his back as she jack-knifed her legs up to mash her knees tightly back against her breasts, offering him the full expanse of her upturned cuntal furrow. Her eyes rolled like a hopeless idiot's, her face contorted with lust as she ground her buttocks and loins up desperately to achieve her imminent, monumental orgasm.
And then-
"I'm . . . there, oh Ross oh Ross oh Ross, I'm cumming, you're making me cummmmmm!"
The words burst from Nora's throat in a low banshee wail, piercing Ross' eardrums, and she pulled her thighs back tighter until the whole of her widespread crotch was presented to his rhythmically heaving pelvis. Her ankles locked back up over his shoulders, and she squirmed her hips beneath him in a wild, uninhibited dance of ecstasy, screaming out her orgasm to him.
Ross felt the warm, gushing juices of her climax seethe and flow around his thundering cock in her cunt as he battered his body brutally against her. Nora strained herself up on his prick with all the power in her thighs, as her loins spasmed convulsively against his belly. And the great swirl of heat which was building, building in his testicles became unbearable, and he gasped again and again, and finally the hot sticky load of his semen began its frenzied rush from his bloated scrotum along the underside of his cock.
Ross began to spew hot, thin streams into her sucking eager cunt in a seemingly never-ending burst, emptying his very being deep, deep up into the warm inner depths of her thirstily drinking pussy, pouring out his love and desire for her. Then he moaned his last final droplet, an eternity later, and his cock began to deflate; he withdrew it slowly, tenderly, from her sperm-flooded cunt with a soft liquid sucking sound, trailing thin gossamer-like strands of semen along the whiteness of her belly as he rolled over beside her sweating flesh and held her close, close to him, kissing her mouth and nose and eyes in thankful gratification for the wondrous pleasure she had just given him . . .
Outside the window, Peggy watched the couple in the living room reach their climax together, watched the handsome Ross Hammond shoot out the thick white semen from his huge, thick cock deep into the hotly clasping cuntal mouth of Mickey's mother. The sight was too much to bear, and she knew she had to cum at that very instant, cum as they were cumming, the pressure was driving her insane! She buffeted frantically back against young Mickey's wildly heaving body, and her own flesh vibrated with growing, pinwheeling heat as she sought to achieve her orgasm from the great rod filling her cunt below, from his finger sliding so masterfully over her aching clit . . .
Then, suddenly-she came!
Great flashes of light burst in back of her eyes, and pleasure so acute it was akin to pure pain consumed every trembling fiber of the provocative, insatiable teen-age girl's being. This was the best, her mind chanted as her orgasm washed wildly through her. This was the best she'd ever had, the best, the best . . . oooohhhh, watching others fuck and being fucked herself at the same time was the most wonderful fucking she'd ever, ever known . . . !
Behind her, his eyes glazed with lust, his loins bucking and twisting against Peggy's upturned buttocks, Mickey watched his mother spread her legs as wide as she could and his uncle shoot his hotly boiling cum deep up inside her voraciously accepting belly. A small part of his brain was shocked by the sight, but the rest of it was driven to new heights of passion and the need for release became overwhelming. His mother . . . his mother was cumming like a street whore right before his very eyes . . . his mother was naked in there, welcoming his uncle's cock deep in her pussy . . . his mother, the woman who had borne him, cumming, having sex as he was having sex, cumming, cumming, his mother was cumming and he had to cum too . . .
He drove into his young dark-haired girlfriend's twisting, sucking pussy with long, hard strokes that seemed to receive power from the tips of his toes, his balls churning harshly into her excitedly secreting crevice below. And then, as Peggy's hot flowing juices drowned his prick completely, bathing it with hot fiery liquid as the magnitude of her cum increased-as he heard her gasp and gurgle deep in her throat and as he heard his mother and his uncle mewling their delight to one another inside the living room-Mickey's own balls erupted like a flash of summer lightning.
A guttural mewling sound burst from his throat as great torrents of his hotly bubbling cum spilled into the lovely, black-haired teen-age girl's greedily clasping pussy. He kneaded her breasts convulsively with both hands now, having abandoned her clitoris for the hot, sweating, swaying globes, and his cock spasmed crazily in the hot moist flesh of her cunt, filling her to the brim with his virile young sperm, causing tears of rapture and delight to flood from Peggy's eyes as his juices mixed with hers deep up in her quivering young belly.
Then Mickey's long, hard shaft gave one last spurt of liquid and the hard shaft began to transform into a soft, small caricature of its former self, popping free from Peggy's tight young cunt. As it did, sanity began to push away some of the hypnotic trance of lust Mickey had been in-and with that sanity came the advent of shock, disgust, shame, and anger.
Peggy straightened up, pressing her lightly perspiring flesh to his, and whispered into his ear, "Oh sweet, sweet Mickey, that was really and truly groovy! I've never been fucked like that, never, and it was wonderful!"
But the handsome teen-age youth barely heard her lewd words. He was looking over the top of her glistening black-haired head, through the parted drapes into the living room. In the firelight he could clearly see his mother and his uncle sitting up on the couch now, both of them naked; then they kissed, touching one another gently, and picked up their clothes. They were murmuring softly, words he couldn't make out from where he and Peggy were standing, as they walked naked together out of the room.
A soft cry broke free from Mickey's throat-a cry of self-loathing for what he had allowed to happen between he and Peggy just now, a cry of hatred and disgust for what he had seen happen between his uncle and mother. He pushed the lovely young girl away from him roughly, gathering up his discarded clothing, and put his under-shorts and pants on with quick movements. Peggy also began to dress, watching him, whispering, "If you don't want to take me home yet, sweet, we can go up to Lookout Peak. By the time we get there, I'll be ready to go again . . . "
He didn't seem to hear her; he no longer seemed to know she was even there. He spun on his heel and ran for the patio porch, letting himself into the house noisily, slamming the kitchen door. Peggy was left standing in the shadows by the window, alone.
She stared after Mickey for a moment, worrying her lower lip. She hoped that he wouldn't turn against her because of what had happened tonight, all of what had happened, because she dug him pretty much-even though there could never be just one man in her life. She loved all men, all sizes and shapes, cocks big and small, and while she might prefer one to the other, it was simply a matter of degree and not of kind.
Well, she thought, he'll be all right tomorrow. Things might be a little strained for a while, but he'll realize that his mother and his uncle were just doing what comes naturally . . . just as we were . . . and he'll forget all about it. I'll make him forget all about it myself, tomorrow, tonight. I'll give him something to think about, that's what I'll do.. . plenty else to think about!
Giggling softly to herself, the lovely teen-age girl turned and, switching her hips provocatively beneath her hot pants even though there was no one there to watch, she walked quickly out of the Hammond yard.
CHAPTER FOUR
Nora awoke in the guest room a few minutes before nine the next morning, stretching languidly, the sheets cold and sweet smelling against her naked body. Sunlight slanted in through the partially drawn blinds over the window, falling across her eyes, and she raised one arm to shield out the bright light.
As she lay there, the events of the preceding evening returned vividly to her mind. She dwelled for a moment on the frenzy of passion which had been generated between her and her ex-brother-in-law, Ross, the pleasure they had taken and given in and with one another's bodies. God, but he was a fine, handsome, sensual man! Nora had almost forgotten what lovemaking, real lovemaking, could be like; and her sex-starved body and mind had reveled in the deliciously fevered flesh of her dead husband's brother. He was truly a magnificent lover, far better than Vern, as good or maybe even better than Art when their relationship had been at the height of its intense delights.
And yet, here in the cold light of day, questions made themselves known in the lovely blonde woman's mind-the very questions which, in her subconscious, had caused fitful dreams in the night. What, if anything, did her coupling with Ross mean in terms of a lasting relationship? Was he merely a deprived self-celibate, such as she had been the past few months, who had lost control of his tightly-reined emotions last night and thus led him into the wild lovemaking with her? How did Ross really feel about her? How did she really feel about him? And what if Mickey, her young handsome son, should find out what they had done? How would he feel about his mother and his uncle coming together in any kind of intimate relationship?
The questions spun and revolved in Nora's mind, but there were no immediate answers for any of them. She had come home, and been accepted by her son and by the brother of her dead ex-husband-those were the only facts she knew for certain. They were good facts, contented ones after the months of terrible loneliness and guilt, and she could only hope that they would last . . . and that the questions she had just posed to herself would be resolved favorably. Now that she had tasted happiness again, the thought of returning to Los Angeles, of living alone in that tiny apartment there, were more frightening and depressing than ever.
Nora sighed and slipped out of the cool bed, padding naked across the bedroom, her taut, firmly rounded buttocks jiggling with unaffected sensuality as she moved, her rich, still-firm breasts swaying gently. From her suitcase she removed clean bra and panties, a pair of hip-hugger slacks and a lightweight summer shirt, dressed quickly, and combed her soft blonde hair at the vanity mirror. Then, after applying a light touch of makeup, she opened the door and went out into the hall.
The smell of frying bacon, and coffee percolating, drew her to the kitchen. When she opened the door, she saw Ross standing at the stove, humming softly to himself as he tended to bacon and eggs cooking in a pair of skillets. He turned when he heard her enter, put down the spatula he was holding, and came to her, his mouth curved in a gentle, loving smile.
"Good morning, darling," he said, and kissed her, folding her into his strong arms.
She returned his kiss, pressing against him for a moment, then stepped away, smiling at him. "Good morning, Ross," she said softly.
"Did you sleep well?"
"Not too badly."
"I slept marvelously myself," he laughed. He took her hand and led her to the table, seating her in a chair before one of two place settings. "Breakfast coming right up."
Nora noticed the absence of a third place at the table. She asked, "Where's Mickey this morning?"
"He left about forty-five minutes ago," Ross replied. "I don't know where he was going. He seemed kind of upset about something or other."
A small wedge of fear formed in Nora's stomach. "Oh Ross, you don't suppose . . . ! "
"What?"
"Well, he came home right after you and I . . . well, right after we left the living room. He . . . he . . . "
"Might have heard or saw something?" Ross finished for her. "No, I doubt that, Nora. You mustn't worry about that."
She moistened her soft, pink lips. "But I can't help worrying about it. What if he finds out that we . . . we.. . ? "
"He won't find out, not unless we tell him." He crossed to her chair, stood looking down at her tenderly. "Honey . . . you're not sorry about last night, are you? You're not sorry we made love?"
Nora swallowed hard, her eyes meeting his. "No," she said truthfully. "No, Ross, I'm not sorry."
His smile was wide and happy. "I'm glad, darling, because I'm not in the least sorry either. It was beautiful, wonderful, perfect, and there's no use in denying it."
"No, there isn't," Nora admitted.
"Nora, I . . . I'm in love with you. I want to marry you."
Tears suddenly welled in her lovely eyes. "Oh, oh Ross, do you really mean that?"
"Yes, I really mean it," he said, smiling down at her. "I know this isn't the time to talk about it, not yet, but I wanted you to know how I felt. Do you feel the same way about me, darling? Just a little bit?"
"Yes, I.. . I do."
"Then you'll marry me one day soon?"
"I. . . think so, Ross. Yes, I think so."
He pulled her to her feet, kissing her face, holding her tightly. "I'll make you happy," he whispered. "I'll make you forget all of the past, every bit of it, and there won't be any more pain for you, Nora. Only goodness and love."
She cried softly against his shoulder, and a warm, glowing feeling swept through her body. She thought: I know the answers to some of those questions now . . . oh God, I can't believe it's really true, that they're the right answers, but I hope and pray that they are . . .
* * *
Mickey drove his Corvette at high speeds to the small lake north of Summervale, took a dirt-road cutoff once he reached there, and followed that to where it ended at a small secluded beach. It was deserted this early in the morning, a fact which the handsome teen-age youth was thankful for. He wanted to be alone with his thoughts, to sort out the confused feelings which churned inside him and which had kept him awake most of the night.
He parked the Corvette under some pine trees, stepped out into the warm, fresh air, and went down onto the sandy beach. He walked along it, listening to the murmur of the water as it licked at the beach in tiny waves, his hands thrust into the pockets of his trousers.
What was he going to do? he wondered for the hundredth time since last time, since what he had witnessed and what he and Peggy had done while watching his mother and his uncle. He felt guilty and ashamed, and at first he had known violent anger toward Peggy. But then, the more he thought about it, the more he concluded that she was not to blame, not really; she was a hot-blooded girl, and she had succumbed to the same carnal temptation that he had, that was all. No, Peggy and he had been weak, young and weak, and what they had done could be excused.
But what he had seen his mother and Uncle Ross doing was an altogether different story.
God, he could still scarcely believe it. His mother grinding her cunt up hotly at his uncle's huge cock, her legs wrapped all the way around his back . . . like a couple of animals. Which one of them had started it? His mother probably . . . sure, his mother, who was a slut underneath after all, who couldn't come home for one day without spreading her legs like she'd done the past five years down in Hollywood and Los Angeles, like she'd done even before that here in Summervale with Art Donnell and Christ only knew how many other guys before him. He should have known better than to trust her, than to think she was repenting and that she'd really changed.
Mickey tried to conjure up a burning hatred for his mother, but in spite of his thoughts, he couldn't seem to make himself loathe her the way he had done after she'd deserted he and his father, after his Dad had died in that auto crash. He kept remembering the pain and suffering that had been mirrored on her face when he'd first seen her yesterday afternoon, the beseeching way she'd looked at him, and how his heart had gone out to her . . . and then he kept seeing her with her legs locked high up around Uncle Ross' back, pumping her open pussy up at him, urging him to fuck her harder so that she could cum . . .
The two images were totally alien to one another, and because they were Mickey couldn't hate his mother with any kind of consuming passion. He couldn't hate his uncle, either, for Ross Hammond had been kind to him, gentle and kind over the years, and the sight of him lewdly driving his cock into Mickey's mother's widely splayed vagina was another alien concept that confused the teenage youth. Well, his uncle was a man after all, just as Mickey was, and he had been blinded probably by Nora's beauty, for she was undeniably a lovely woman . . . Mickey could remember how her naked body had looked there in the firelight, her perfectly formed hips and legs, her large, ruby-nippled breasts, the thin, wet little cuntal slit nestled beneath her softly curling triangle of blonde pubic hair . . .
Mickey shook his head violently, feeling his face flame red, and he looked guiltily around him even though the beach was still deserted. What was the matter with him, thinking about his bitch of a mother that way? It was almost as if . . . well, as if he had been captivated and attracted by the sight of her nakedness, by the way she was fucking back at his uncle . . . almost as if he, Mickey, wanted to have been in Uncle Ross' place on the couch last night . . .
Stop it, damn it, stop that kind of thinking! he cursed himself. Oh God, he was so confused today, so mixed up, he just didn't know what to do. One thing was certain: he couldn't stay in that house with his uncle and his mother much longer, not after last night. Suppose they decided to keep screwing one another, suppose his uncle invited her to move in there? Mickey couldn't face them both day after day, knowing what he knew; he just couldn't.
But what alternative did he have? He had a little money put away, insurance from his father, that he intended to use for college in the fall. Maybe he could move out, get a little apartment of his own, find a job, and forget all about college . . .
The prospect of living alone didn't appeal to Mickey much, and he really did want to go to State in September to pursue that Engineering degree. So he couldn't move out, he couldn't get a job or an apartment and live alone . . . and yet, he couldn't stay on there at his uncle's home. What was he going to do?
And suddenly, out of the clear blue summer sky, he had the answer.
A slow smile spread across his handsome features. Of course! It was simple, really simple. He remembered Peggy telling him once that her father, who was a wealthy building contractor in Summervale, had promised to give her a ten thousand dollar wedding present the day she got married. Ten thousand dollars! Why, he and Peggy could both go to college on that, as well as maintain an apartment, and when he graduated with his Engineering degree, he would be automatically assured of a high-paying job anywhere in the world that he chose.
He knew that Peggy loved him, he was sure of it, and he knew that he loved her-so that made it all right about taking the money from her father to set them up in housekeeping. But would she many him if he asked her, would she marry him right now? He thought that she would . . . yes, he was sure of it, she loved him, she would jump at the chance to become Mrs. Mickey Hammond.
That's what he would do, all right, he thought with mounting excitement. He would marry Peggy and move out of his uncle's place and leave his mother and Ross to do whatever they wanted to do. He would be free of them, on his own, and that would be the best way, the only way, for him from now on . . .
* * *
Ross was alone in his sprawling ranch-style house, working on a magazine lay-out for which he had been given an assignment by one of the largest of the women's slicks, when the doorbell rang a few minutes past noon.
After he and Nora had eaten breakfast, he had told her that he had to get to work on the lay-out, which was due in the magazine's New York offices the first of the following week, and invited her to just lounge around by the pool all day. But Nora had expressed a desire to reacquaint herself with Summervale and environs, saying that she felt like taking a day's drive, and Ross had immediately offered her the loan of his new Pontiac convertible. She had thanked him profusely, kissed him warmly and passionately, and then left in the car, promising to be home in plenty Of time for supper. He had told her to have fun, then had retired to his study to work on the lay-out.
Now he frowned as the doorbell sounded again. He didn't like to be interrupted when he was working, especially when he was trying to meet a deadline. Reluctantly, he got up from his desk and went out to see who it was.
It was Peggy Reynolds, Mickey's lovely black-haired girlfriend.
She stood in a provocative pose on the flagstone porch, wearing the same hot pants as the night before and a different blouse, smiling seductively at him. Her dark eyes traveled appreciatively over Ross' slacks-and-jersey encased body, lowering insolently to the front of his pants and lingering there on the faint outlines of his large manhood. Her gaze, Ross thought uncomfortably, contained an odd kind of knowing smirk, almost as if she knew some great and consuming secret about him. He felt his neck redden, and the same faintly flustered feeling rose in his stomach that he always seemed to get when around her.
He moistened his lips. "Hello, Peggy," he said, managing a small smile.
"Hi, Ross," she cooed in reply, her gaze caressing his face now. "Is Mickey at home?"
"Why . . . no, he isn't. I don't know where he is. Were you supposed to meet him here this afternoon?"
"Not exactly," Peggy said in her husky voice. "I just thought I'd see if he was home, 'cause it's pretty hot out now and I thought we could go swimming in your pool."
Ross swallowed into a suddenly dry throat, noticing that she carried a rolled towel under her right arm. Her smile now seemed almost obscene, again as if she knew some great secret which Ross was not privileged to know himself. "Well . . . you're welcome to use the pool until Mickey gets home, of course."
"Oh, I wouldn't want to intrude," Peggy said. "I mean, if Mrs. Hammond is here and she's swimming or something.. . "
"No, she's not here either. She's gone for the day."
"Then . . . you're all alone?"
Something in the tone of her voice caused his stomach to tingle momentarily, then he shook himself mentally and made his face stern. "Yes, I am, Peggy. Why?"
"Oh, no reason." She laughed softly. "Is it still okay if I use your pool?"
"Yes . . . I guess so. You can change in the cabana."
"I know, I've been here before."
"So you have."
"Well, thanks again, Ross, I'll just go on around back."
"All right."
Ross watched his nephew's young girlfriend walk away toward the rear of the house, and he couldn't seem to take his eyes off the lithe, feline way she moved, the jiggling sway of her taut young buttocks, the long clean lines of her youthful legs. He swallowed heavily, moistened his lips again, then quickly shut the door. Damn, what was it about that little bitch that affected him so much? She was nothing but a tramp . . . and yet, she had an exciting, forbidden allure that was like an aura of sexuality around her, reaching out and touching him like caressing fingers . . .
Ross went back into his study and tried to resume work on the magazine lay-out. But he couldn't seem to concentrate now, and after ten futile minutes he flung the pencil he was using to the floor, scraped back his chair, and prowled into the kitchen. He opened a beer from the refrigerator, drank some of it, then walked without even thinking about it onto the porch. The rattan blinds were drawn up, and he could see the provocative, lush form of Peggy Reynolds swimming in the pool, her tanned young body encased in a wispy bikini that did little to hide her large breasts, her flat abdomen and the tight, hot crevice of her budding womanhood below. As Ross watched, she pulled herself out of the pool, padded to the diving board at one end. Her body glistened in the sun, and her buttocks swayed tantalizingly, causing Ross' throat to go dry once again.
Peggy climbed up on the board, poised there for a moment, and he could see the way her breasts strained at the halter top of her bikini, the furrow of her pussy revealed by the tight bottoms. God, he thought, she's got a fantastic body for such a young girl, such a beautiful body! Ross realized he was sweating, realized the direction his thoughts were taking, and he turned abruptly away from the window as Peggy dove in a graceful swan dive into the cool water of the pool.
He went back to his study and once again tried to work. But visions of the lovely teen-age girl outside kept intruding on his thoughts and again he couldn't concentrate. There was a curious fluttering sensation in the pit of his stomach, and Ross was fully aware what it was; beginning sexual arousal. Oh God, no, no! he thought, but he couldn't deny the truth of it; his body, reawakened by his powerful lovemaking with Nora the night before, was screaming once again for gratification; one night's sexual frenzy, with the woman he now knew he loved, was not enough to satisfy the flames which were now burning like an inferno within him once more.
But he had to control the restless urgings of his sensual flesh, he couldn't make a fool of himself with that young bitch out in the pool. He loved Nora, it was Nora he wanted and not Peggy Reynolds, it was Nora he wanted to hold in his arms again, Nora he wanted to slide his hot, throbbing cock into, Nora, Nora, Nora.. . !
And yet, even with the love he now felt for the lovely blonde mother, he was drawn as if by a powerful, unseen magnet by the alluring black-haired creature whom his nephew thought to be in love with. She seemed to be reaching out to him with her lustful body, begging him telepathically to come to her, to take her in his arms as he had taken Nora in his arms the night before . . .
A low moan of confused desire purled from Ross' throat. He tried to force himself calm, force himself to remain where he was until the feeling ebbed and passed-but then, as if with a separate will of their own, his legs were carrying out into the kitchen again, through the kitchen to the back porch. He looked through the window, looked at the pool.. .
Peggy was gone; the pool was deserted.
Ross drew in a deep, tremulous breath. Had she gone home? Christ, he hoped so! He hoped so with all his heart . . . and yet, he wanted her still to be there, he wanted to go to her, touch her . . . Jesus, Jesus, why couldn't he control himself, why, why!
He had to make sure she was gone, that she was nowhere near, that she had grown tired of waiting for Mickey and had simply departed without saying goodbye. Quickly, Ross hurried outside, walked past the pool, and stepped up to the entrance to the small dressing cabana on the opposite side. The door was slightly ajar, and he reached out and pushed it open, taking a step forward to peer inside as he did so. And then, as the sound of a shower spray hissing lightly onto the tile walls and floors of the single stall came to his ears, he froze in wide-eyed immobility at the sight suddenly presented to his eyes.
Peggy Reynolds, the provocative black-haired teen-ager, was standing almost directly in front of him, across the tile floor of the cabana, visible inside the open shower stall. Her tanned, lushly curved body was blanketed in a soapy film from the bar she held in one slim hand, rubbing herself briskly, humming softly. As Ross watched, in frozen fascination, Peggy leaned over, facing away from him, and presented her upturned, perfectly rounded ass cheeks-the slim rippling flesh of her thighs and the softly hair-fringed slit of her young, tight pussy nestled between them-to his view.
She washed herself under the steady spray from the shower head, obviously unaware of Ross' entrance, unaware of his eyes feasting on her nakedness, his mouth open and wetly moist with the exciting sight of her nudity so close to him, so lewdly displayed as she bent over there in the stall. Her legs parted slightly as she dipped one hand between her legs, sliding the bar of soap up and down along her soft, tight crotch, the movement of her hand visible to Ross from where he stood, the creamy soap suds clinging to her soft cunt lips, her pubic hair. A tingling of delicious excitement coursed through his body, and he shivered as he stared at Peggy's voluptuousness, at the rippling muscles of her unclothed flesh. He told himself he had to turn around, walk away from there, get out before he completely lost control of himself-but he couldn't move, he could only stand rooted to the spot with the tingling growing stronger in his lower belly now, causing his cock to spasm into half-arousal in his pants, his balls to ache maddeningly with building sperm. Jesus, she was beautiful, so hot and small and beautiful! What must the rest of her look like, her proud young tits, the flatness of her belly, the thin, sparsely growing triangle of her pubic mound, the front view of her young pussy . . .
The lovely, naked teen-ager stepped under the full force of the shower spray, and Ross watched the soap film disappear, leaving her in full clean nakedness for his fevered gaze. His mouth was dry now as he saw Peggy rub vigorously at her back, at her buttocks, at the darkened nether ring of her tight little anus, and Ross stifled a low groan of frustration and shame and mounting lust, the small of his back becoming almost alive with emulation of her vigorous movements.
Then Peggy turned off the spray and took a large towel, the one she had been carrying earlier, from where it was slung over the top of the stall side. She turned as she did, the towel covering her breasts and her lower abdomen as she stood in profile to Ross' feasting gaze. His imagination ran rampant, and he found himself urging her silently to pull the towel away, to let him see her tits, her pussy, he had to see all of her nakedness!
He took a convulsive step forward, inside the cabana now, straining to see her nudity, watching Peggy begin to rub herself with the towel, catching fragmented glimpses of her rich, firm breasts, her glistening pubic mound. Then Ross' breath caught agonizingly in his throat, his mind whirling with the mounting fever in his loins, his cock in full throbbing erection now, as he saw the towel lift higher, higher, revealing her belly, the black, black pubic triangle as perfect as he had imagined, shining with droplets of water, the soft petal-like lips of her young, tight cunt clearly defined beneath. She rubbed at her face and hair, undulating her hips lightly, unconsciously, as she did so, then lowered the towel to her belly, began to rub between her legs. Ross saw her breasts for the first time, the round, resilient mounds capped with large nipples, distended from the force of the shower spray in their nests of brownish-pink aureoles, and his cock ached and leapt wildly in his trousers.
Sensuously, his nephew's girlfriend massaged her pubic region, slowly manipulating the fluffy towel over her pussy, between her legs, up and down and back and forth, her lips parted wetly and her eyes half-lidded at the delicious feelings of the towel between her parted thighs. Then the towel came up, like an eager lover, and she was drying her breasts, squeezing them together inside the towel, the firm flesh rippling as she pressed the twin globes together, released them, pressed them together again so that the nipples almost touched.
She kept this up for what seemed to Ross like an eternity, and he could feel his cock begin to secrete droplets of seminal fluid in his wild arousal. He was held transfixed, unable to move, unable to breathe, as the lovely black-haired teen-ager used the towel to make tantalizing, maddening love to herself, sliding up and down along her body, between her legs, rubbing over her clit, her breasts, back and under to her puckered anal ring, again and again. Ross' body was a seething cauldron of desire effectively blotting out all the rational thoughts in his mind, and his prick threatened to burst from the cage of his trousers . . .
Finally, sighing softly, Peggy lowered the towel, stood motionless for a moment, then tossed the fluffy square over the top of the stall side again. Then she straightened, stretched, and started out of the shower stall. Run! Ross' mind screamed. Get out of here, hurry, before she sees you, before it's too late! But still he couldn't move, still he was held rooted to the spot, still his eyes feasted on her hips, breasts, pussy. . .
And then Peggy saw him. She stopped, momentary surprise making her rigid, her eyes blinking rapidly as she saw the flushed face of the handsome older man standing in the doorway. "Why, Ross!" she exclaimed.
"I . . . I . . . I . . . " He couldn't form words, and he couldn't tear his eyes away from her voluptuous nakedness. His brain was a confused wasteland aflame with passion and fire.
Slowly, Peggy's lovely face curved into a provocative grin and she whispered, "You were watching me in there, weren't you, Ross?" she accused. "You saw me drying myself, didn't you?"
"Oh God, Peggy, I.. . I. . . " Again, Ross was at a loss for words. He wished, deep down, that he could turn and run, but it was as if some demoniacal force held him there, held him for the inevitable outcome of his voyeurism.
Peggy's eyes traveled in that slow, insolent way over his body, stopping on the jutting front of his trousers, the wet spot on the material where the head of his huge cock rested, and her smile widened. She felt arousal suddenly spiral in her belly and loins, felt her nipples harden even more as she stared at his burgeoning cock, and she remembered back to last night, to the huge weapon which he possessed burrowing wildly and hotly into the eagerly swallowing pussy of Mickey's mother-remembered her own thoughts about the immensity of his cock and how much she would like to have such a wonderful hardness buried deep in her own belly . . .
Such a big cock, she thought wantonly, such a big hard cock he has . . . and so handsome, such a fine hard body too . . . and the way he's standing there, the way lie's looking at me . . . he wants me, he wants to fuck me, right here, right now! That's why he came out here, that's why he watched me taking a shower, watched me toweling myself and playing with my titties and my pussy. He's probably wanted me all along, wanted to fuck me with that big hard monster of a cock of his . mmmmmmmm, I know I shouldn't but I want him too, I want him to fuck me, I want that huge prick of his deep up inside me . . . oohhhh yes, I want it so much, my pussy is on fire with wanting it! Well . . . why not? There's no one else around, why not let him fuck me? It'll be good, I know it will . . . mmmmmm, yes it will! Why not? He'll never tell afterward, he doesn't dare, and Mickey won't find out.. .
Her pussy aflame with lascivious desire now, the lovely black-haired teen-ager moved forward, swaying her hips seductively, moistening her lips again and again with the tip of her hot, pink little tongue. Her hands came up, slowly, slowly, sliding along her sides, up and down, up and down, and then she was cupping her breasts, squeezing them lightly at her chest so that they seemed to bulge forward, beckoning to Ross. Peggy stopped directly in front of the sweating, aroused uncle of her boyfriend, standing very close to him, the hardened nipples of her lush young breasts almost touching his chest, her forward-thrust pussy almost touching the distended material of his trousers where his huge cock jutted forth.
She said, "I know what you want, Ross honey. I know why you were watching me. I know what you're thinking now."
"N-no . . . " Ross stuttered.
"Oh yes, honey, I know. I know what you want to do, you can't fool me. I can see how hard your cock is there, I can tell that you're excited, I can tell that you'd like to shove that big hard monster of yours into my pussy. Peggy knows!"
Ross couldn't take his eyes from her voluptuous beauty, from the way she kept squeezing and manipulating her breasts, and his breath spewed forth raggedly from his nostrils. Ooooohhhh God help me! he thought miserably, on fire with lust for this beautifully formed teen-age girl standing naked before him.
He took an involuntary step backward, but it was also a step slightly to the side and he found himself backed up against the cabana wall next to the door. His eyes bulged wide, but there was only half-crazed desire mirrored in them as the rushing, screaming lust ran rampant through his loins, flaming his brain. There was nothing h could do, nowhere for him to go, he was trapped here with this young teen-age siren, his own nephew's girlfriend . . . and it was just what he had wanted all along!
"Yes, you want to fuck me, I know you do," Peggy intoned, moving still closer to him. "You want to fuck me deep and hard with that fine big cock of yours, you can't wait to fuck me, honey, and I can't wait to have you fuck me. But first you're going to kiss me between the legs, kiss my pussy with your hot wet mouth. Yes, that's just what you're going to do, you're going to kiss and lick my pussy and then you're going to fuck me good and proper . . . "
Her lewd, obscene words were like pokers stoking the fires of his desire and he was trembling and sweating like a man caught up in the fever of malaria. Blood pounded wildly in his cock, as if begging her to touch it, touch his prick, pull it free of his trousers and hold it in her hot little hand . . .
Again, Ross knew the feeling of demoniacal telepathy, for in that moment Peggy reached out a slow, tantalizing hand and touched the throbbing knob of his prick through the cloth of his pants. The touch of her fingers on his aching shaft sent an electric shock spiraling through Ross, and he moaned in excited torment. The black-haired teen-age vixen stroked his shaft lightly, tantalizingly, increasing the rhythm of her strokes as her fingertips slipped far between his legs, caressing the entire plane of his crotch. Then she was pressing up against him, rubbing her firm, young breasts hotly against his chest, her mouth seeking his, finding it, her tongue searing between his lips like a molten firebrand to fuse with his own saliva-drenched probe. Her hands dipped to his belt, opening it, and Ross was suddenly helping her, feverishly stripping himself, flinging his clothes uncaringly onto the cabana floor. Now he was as naked as she was, his thick, huge, blood-enraged shaft standing out at heavy right angle from his loins, quivering, seeping fluid from its glans opening.
Peggy stepped back, gasping in excitement, seizing his cock in both her hot, moist little hands, rubbing it maddeningly between her palms. "Oh Ross, honey sweet, it's beautiful, it's huge and beautiful and I can't wait to have it inside me! But first you have to kiss my pussy, I won't let you fuck me with that wonderful prick of yours until you kiss my pussy with your mouth and tongue . . . "
Ross didn't care about anything in that moment except this alluring, provocative wanton girl whose lewd words were sending him into a frenzy of lust. He showered hot, moist kisses over her face, her throat, into the valley of her breasts, his hands moving over the smooth hillocks of her buttocks, cupping them, squeezing the flesh painfully. She was breathing into his ear, hot and sweet, and her right hand stroked his cock lightly back and forth, sliding the foreskin over the swollen head, threatening to send the tremendous buildup of his cum shooting that very moment through his cock and against the hot, soft flesh of her undulating belly and abdomen.
"Kiss my pussy, Ross, kiss my pussy!" Peggy was moaning in frenzied abandon. "I won't let you fuck me until you kiss my pussy, hurry honey, hurry, it's on fire, it's on fire!"
Ross could stand it no more; he knew he had to obey. He hadn't tasted a woman's cunt lips since his wife Carla, many years ago, and yet the dim remembrance of the wild delights of such wicked, sweet smelling contact filled him with crazed passion. With a low moan, he knelt before the quivering flesh of the lovely, passion-incensed teen-age girl, lips brushing her naked naval, his hands tracing down her tingling flanks. Peggy spread her palpitating thighs, wrapping her fingers in his thick hair, urging his head downward into the waiting hot wetness of her pussy as she groaned out her excitement to him. Ross' whole body was enveloped in searing flame as he buried his face in her soft, wet pubic hair, burrowing lower through the fleecy mound, kissing her hair, kissing the top of her wet, fiery furrow, extending his tongue now to blaze a trail even further downward, over her throbbing clitoris, licking it, dipping lower to lick into the wetly secreting crevice almost to the door of her desire-inflamed vagina.
Peggy moaned and flung her hips abandonedly at the delicious contact of Ross' tongue and lips on her aching pussy. Then she allowed her body to go limp, sinking down onto the floor, stretching out on the cool tiles with her legs spread as wide as they would go and pulled back against her breasts, presenting all of her churning, wet, hot cunt for him. "Hurry, hurry, Ross honey, oh hurry and kiss my pussy some more, slide your tongue up into my cunt, hurry, hurrrryyyyyyyyy!"
Ross crawled between the widely splayed thighs of the passion-crazed teen-age girl. His hot, moist lips mashed onto her vaginal lips with a small cry of delight, and his tongue lashed out like a molten probe, slipping deep, deep into her vaginal orifice in the ultimate kiss.
"Oooooooaaaaahhhhhhhhhh!" Peggy cried out in mindless lust, her body jackknifing convulsively, her legs drawn back ever further to mash her fervently quivering breasts to her young chest, hips lifting off the floor so that even more of her desire-flooded slit was given over to the slavering lips and tongue of the handsome uncle of her boyfriend. Her hands grasped his thick hair again, trying to pull his face deeper into her squirming, lust-soaked loins.
Ross continued his wanton tonguing of her moistly trembling young vaginal slit, his hands slipping up over her belly to her full palpitating breasts, his mind totally committed to the act he was performing, no thoughts of Nora or propriety or his nephew penetrating the miasma of desire which had claimed his brain. He was reveling in the lewd tongue fucking of this young teen-age vixen, squeezing and cupping her tits almost brutally now while his mouth and tongue continued the wet assault of her wide-spread furrow, making obscene sucking sounds that seemed to fill the confines of the cabana. Peggy clenched ner sma hands tighter in his hair as Ross' probing fiery tongue located the erect, pulsating button of her clitoris, and she whined sharply as he took the tiny bud between his sharp teeth, holding it tightly there, and began to run the tip of his tongue round and round it in small continuing circles. Her head began to roll from side to side in total abandonment, and the handsome uncle opened his mouth yet wider, moving his tongue downward along the smooth, heat-moistened slit to the throbbing hair-fringed opening of her vagina. He began to orally fuck her, hard, hard, fast, fast, sliding his hot wet tongue up into her hungrily clasping young passage, listening to her making unintelligible whimpering sounds as he swirled and flicked it around the smooth, velvet-like interior of her tight, hotly pulsing young cuntal walls.
Ross slipped his hand beneath her thighs, pushing them further up until they were now draped over his shoulders, the whole of her flowing vaginal plane in naked presentation to his churning face, and then he cupped her soft tanned buttocks in both hands as he thrust his tongue deep, deep into the searing liquid depths of her pussy. Peggy's cries of animal pleasure filled the cabana, and her buttocks jerked and spasmed beneath his plunging hot tongue. Then he drew the member out and brought it licking downward in mesmeric desire to the secret, forbidden ring of her anus, totally lost in the sensual pleasures of his own body and his oral love-making.
Peggy sucked in her breath in a gulping swallow, moaning in rapture, and flung her loins up at the older man as hard as she could as he brought his tongue into seething wet contact with the tiny constricted opening of her rectum, thrusting it into the tight rubbery hole, slitting it wide to accept just the small worming tip up inside. The lovely teen-ager's body quivered uncontrollably now beneath the overpowering assault, and her body was spasming furiously with torrent after torrent of sensual pleasure, straining to cum, her mind chanting wildly now: Have to cum, have to cum, have to cum . . .
Abruptly, Ross withdrew his tongue from the writhing young brunette's anal passage and returned it to her now saliva-drenched cuntal furrow, and the dark softly curling fleece fringing her pulsing young pussy lips. He paused for a brief moment to stare up along the sweat-slick valley between her trembling high breasts at the twisted grimace on her lovely wanton's face, then lowered his head and resumed his slaving once more.
The voluptuous young girl writhed and squirmed beneath the insanely licking tongue of Ross Hammond until she thought she would surely go mad from the sheer ecstatic rapture in her loins. Her head continued to flail loosely from side to side on the tile floor, grinding her crotch up into Mickey's uncle's lusting face and tongue, and she felt the gathering billows of her orgasm rising, rising, cresting, and then she was there, she was cumming, she was cumming like a wild woman!
"Aaaaaaaaaagggggggggghhhhhhhhhhhhhh!" she screamed in rapturous delight and she locked her hands hard in Ross' hair, drawing his face into her exploding young cunt with all her might. Her juices began to flow from her wide-spread young pussy, inundating the older man's face and tongue, flowing down along her climatically flexing little rectum to pool in fragrant stickiness on the tile floor beneath her. She screamed again, and again, and Ross sucked and licked until, at long last, her cumming was over and she sank back with a long, satiated sigh, releasing his hair from her fingers and opening her orgasm drenched thighs to allow him to remove his head from between her limply collapsed legs.
Ross lifted himself onto his knees, his face contorted with lust, and his balls were a seething inferno of impending cum. The juices of her climax made his face shine like a grotesque mask in the sunlight shining into the cabana as he stared at the panting, glassy eyed teen-age girl. He had to fuck her now, he had to release the hotly building cum from his balls! He had to shove his cock into her, fuck into her, pound his cock into her tight young cunt savagely until she begged for mercy. HE HAD TO FUCK HER!
"Ooooohhh Ross honey," she mewled, "that was wonderful, just the most groovy cum I've had in a long time . . . "
"Going to fuck you now," he chanted mindlessly, "going to fuck your hot little cunt now, going to fuck you, fuck you, fuck you . . . "
As fulfilled as she was, Peggy felt a renewed surge of desire at his obscene words, at the thought of accepting his hugely pulsating cock into her wet, hot pussy. "Yes, yes, fuck me, Ross, fuck me honey, fuck me good!"
He flung his body onto her, guiding his aching, swollen cock to the waiting, lust-soaked opening of the young girl's cunt. Then he rammed forward brutally, splitting apart the thin hair-fringed vaginal lips, shoving all of his huge hardened length deep along the wet, hot walls of her tight young cunt, slamming it hard off her cervix and causing her to cry out in fresh tremors of ecstasy.
"Uuuuuuuhhhhhhhhhhh, that's it, honey, that's it, that's the way to fuck into me!"
Her hips flew up to meet his forward-thrusting ones, and his heavy sperm-bloated testicles smacked solidly against the upturned cheeks of her satin-soft buttocks. Ross sent his thick shaft even deeper into her hungrily clenching channel, feeling the inner-vaginal muscles nibble at it hungrily, and his own pelvis was grinding in a rapid revolving motion against her, sending his great cock soaring into her young teen-age pussy in harsh, rapid strokes, slapping into her with increasing force. He drew his blood-engorged cock nearly out of the tight, moist sheath clasping it so hungrily, then plunged down against her again until his heavy testicles once more slapped hard against her tiny working anus. The pressure was mounting, mounting, in his billowing scrotum, and his head swam wildly with the impending knowledge of his cumming, of his filling of this wanton little bitch with torrent after torrent of his rushing hot seed . . .
Peggy began to toss her head from side to side in frenzied abandoned ecstasy, impaled on Mickey's uncle's rock-hard shaft filling her so superbly, better than any cock had ever filled her before. Ross fastened his mouth, still wet with the lubrication of her orgasm, to the teen-age girl's, tongue soaring into the warm wet grotto of her mouth, fusing with hers, and rapturous little moans bubbled from Peggy's throat. She sucked at his tongue madly, trying to milk it as her pussy was trying to milk his pistoning cock, and her legs raised back even higher to receive his thundering shaft deeper inside.
"I'm . . . I'm . . . going to cum now, going to cum now, going to cum now!" Ross mewled in mindless bliss, pulling his mouth from the young teen-age girl's and she gurgled out her agreement, her encouragement, her need. She was almost there herself, once again, a second cumming on top of the first, the first time in her young life anything of such mind-blowing delight had happened to her, and she strove with every fiber of her being for both their climaxes.
Ross increased his pace even more, deepening his thrusts as the lovely black-haired girl writhed nakedly beneath him, grinding up and down on his cock with incredible fury, her legs twitching, her toes curling as she lurched her legs wide and upwards. He pounded deeper still, pressing his hands behind her knees and thrusting them back hard against her heaving breasts until her head was framed between them. The tableau of her young, fiery crotch was now higher and wider open to his increased plunges, his drubbing of her pussy.
"Oooohhh, ooohhhh, oooohhh!" she chanted, and then her second orgasm struck like a blow from a knuckled fist and Ross felt her pussy walls begin to secrete their warm gushes of wet sticky fluid once again, this time hotly around his plundering cock. She was cumming, he had to cum to, now, right now . . .
Suddenly then, Ross sensed his own impatiently churning sperm was about to explode through his cock to fill her sensuously flaring womb. She jerked wildly, spasming, the mouth of her cunt sucking at him feverishly, her breath spewing against his face in short, ragged gasps and then his climax struck fully and his balls erupted burning fire from within them, causing his body to tremble in wild, uncontrolled ecstasy. His juices spurted from the opening of his prickhead far and deep up into the lovely teen-age girl's violently quivering recesses . . . a never-ending flow which caused Peggy to moan in spasmodic, indecipherable cries of delight as her belly quaked with the unleashed pool of heated male sperm he was emptying into her, their orgiastic fluids mixing together and flowing out around his spasming cock to mat their pubic hair together and to form tiny white droplets on the tile floor beneath them.
And in their mindless fervor, neither of the wildly jerking, climaxing couple-not Ross and not Peggy-saw or was aware of the shocked, disbelieving figure of Nora Hammond, just arrived home and attracted by their cries of lustful fulfillment, standing outside the open cabana door and staring in wide-eyed at their passion-locked nakedness. . . .
CHAPTER FIVE
Nora turned away from the lewd, lascivious sight of her ex-husband's brother and the young teen-age girlfriend of her son, Mickey, fucking on the floor of the cabana, and rushed past the pool into the house, running blindly, choking back the cry of anguish which threatened to burst from her throat. She entered the guest room, locked the door, and flung herself on the bed, sobbing now, unable to blot the terrible scene she had just witnessed from her confused, stricken mind.
Oh God, oh God! her tortured mind cried. It's . . . it's too awful, too sickening . . . Ross, how could you? How could you do this to me after . . . after what we had last night, after what you told me this morning? You said you loved me, you said you wanted to marry me, and then . . . and then, the first minute I'm gone, you rut around like a . . . a dog on the floor with that disgusting little hitch, Peggy Reynolds . . . oooohhhh, God, God, what am I going to do?
Nora buried her face in the pillow, crying brokenly now. The shattered fragments of her world, reformed and reconstructed by her homecoming to Summervale, by her acceptance and forgiveness by Mickey and Ross, by Ross' professed love for her and her own growing emotional involvement with the handsome brother of her dead ex-husband, were once again shredded at her feet. Was there no hope for her future at all? Was what she had just witnessed an omen, a warning to her, that only pain and futility lay ahead of her, that she would never again know true peace and happiness? God, oh God, oh God . . .
The beauteous blonde mother cried bitter tears of torment for a long, timeless period; then, abruptly, as if there were suddenly no more moisture in her for tears, the crying ended and some semblance of calm returned. She slid off the bed, opened the door to the hallway, and looked out. The house was very still; Ross must still be out in the cabana with that . . . that filthy slut Peggy. Quickly, Nora padded down to the bathroom at the end of the hall, past Ross' and Mickey's bedrooms, and washed her face and applied fresh makeup to her pain-etched face. Then, composed, she returned to the guest room, relocked the door, and lay down once more on the bed, staring up at the ceiling.
Grimly, she forced her mind to examine the situation with cold, careful rationality. She had to do something . . . she couldn't just allow this wanton act that she had viewed to be forgotten, she couldn't just pretend that it had never happened. Ross had hurt her, hurt her desperately, by his carnal coupling with Peggy Reynolds, and Nora knew now that she could never marry him, could never make love with him or love him in any way after today. It would be difficult enough to face him again, to look into his eyes, without either crying or blurting out in rage what she had seen. And neither of those emotional reactions would solve anything. Still, what exactly could she do? There was no purpose in confronting Ross with the knowledge of his lustful endeavor with Peggy; he would either deny it baldly, or if he did admit to it, just say he was sorry, that it had been a terrible moment of weakness, and beg for her forgiveness. And the way Nora felt now, there was no capacity in her for that kind of compassionate exoneration of his sin-at least not where the two of them, and a future relationship between them, was concerned.
And yet, even with her disappointment and bitterness in Ross, Nora sensed deep down that he was not responsible for what had happened-was probably still happening in the poolside cabana; he was just a man, weak and sexually unprincipled, like most men were. No, the blame for Ross' transgression could be laid, the lovely young mother felt sure, directly on the shoulders of that seductive little slut, Peggy Reynolds.
Nora felt a moment of unreasoning hatred for the lush, conscienceless teen-age girl. The bitch, oh the damned dirty little bitch! Rutting on the floor with a man old enough to be her father, reveling in the feel of his penis deep inside her-and what was worse, infinitely worse, was the fact that that man was the uncle of the boy who claimed to be in love with her!
Mickeij-poor, poor Mickey, Nora thought. So trusting, so good . . . involved with a slut like that, blinded by her beauty and her sensuality. God only knew how many other boys . . . how many other men . . . she was sleeping with, while Mickey's love for her, blind and innocent, increased day by day. Poor Mickey, oh my poor son . . .
The beauteous blonde mother bit her lower lip in anguish. What could she do, what could she do? She couldn't go to Mickey, could she? She couldn't tell him what happened today between Peggy and his uncle, could she? He wouldn't believe her, Nora knew that; he would think she was lying for some reason, trying to split he and the young girl up for some reason of her own. And he might hate her, might twist in his adolescent mind her mother's feelings for his well-being into something much darker and much more base. And she couldn't stand to have him hate her any more, not when she had seen the glimmering of returning love on his face last night.. .
The indecision swirled around in the blonde woman's brain, and still she came to no definite conclusion as to what she could do. She only knew that she had to do something, and soon, before it was too late. In Mickey, now that Ross had betrayed her, Nora had to place all her hopes for salvation. If he turned on her, she would be totally destroyed-the fact was irrefutable. And unless she helped him, completely committed herself to her handsome young son, then she had nothing on which to hang the last desperate remnants of her spirit.
There was the sound of a door slamming from the rear of the house, and Nora heard Ross' slow, hesitant footsteps. They grew nearer, entering the hall, then a moment later he knocked almost fearfully on her door. "Nora?" he called, his voice trembling. "Nora, honey, are you in there?"
"Yes, I'm in here," she replied, trying to make her voice calm and toneless.
"I . . . I saw the car in the garage, and I . . . I knew that you'd come home. Is . . . everything all right?"
"Just fine, Ross, thank you."
"I thought you were going to . . . to drive around Summervale all day," he said.
"It got to be too hot after awhile, and I was more tired than I thought. So I decided to come home."
"Oh," Ross said. There was a pause, then he continued, "Well, I . . . I'm not feeling so good, honey. I think I'll go lie down for awhile. I've got a miserable headache."
I don't wonder at that, Nora thought bitterly. "All right," she said. "Would you like me to fix supper tonight?"
"If you would. There's plenty of food in the refrigerator. But . . . but just for you and Mickey, okay? I don't think I'll be hungry, feeling as lousy as I do now."
"Whatever you say, Ross."
She heard the shuffling of his steps as he continued down the hall to his own room, heard the sound of the door closing and the key turning in the lock. Then the house was still again. Nora got to her feet, opened her door, and walked quietly into the kitchen. She found a bottle of bourbon in the cabinet above the sink, and poured herself a small drink, her lovely mouth set resolutely.
Yes, she thought with grim determination, yes, I've got to commit myself fully and completely to Mickey, in whatever way is necessary. It's my only hope-and where Peggy Reynolds is concerned, Mickey's only hope too. Somehow, some way, I've got to help him, show him what Peggy really is. Somehow, some way . . .
* * *
The handsome teen-age youth returned home shortly past five that afternoon. Nora heard the sound of his Corvette as it entered the driveway; she was in the kitchen, preparing a platter of cold cuts, sipping from a glass filled with ice, soda, and more of the bourbon. She felt faintly drunk, but not enough so that it would hamper her movements or her speech; still, she knew she shouldn't have had so much to drink, even if it did help ease the gnawing distress which filled her lovely body. It would not do for Mickey to see her even a little intoxicated; he might get the wrong ideas about her . . .
Nora hurried into the guest room and found a package of mints in her bag. She popped several into her mouth, then looked at herself in the vanity mirror, fluffing her soft blonde hair so that it framed her beautiful face. She looked all right, she decided. She looked just fine. The young mother went out into the living room then, just in time to see Mickey opening the front door with his key and entering the house.
"Hi, Mickey," she greeted him warmly.
"Hi," he replied, and Nora saw that he wasn't looking at her directly, that his voice seemed cool and distant. A pang of fear and anguish clutched at her heart.
"Is . . . is something the matter, son?" she asked.
"No, why should anything be the matter?" Mickey crossed the room, still not looking at her, and entered the kitchen. A moment later he reappeared with a frosty bottle of beer in his hand and sat on the couch facing the fireplace-the same couch on which she and Ross had made love last night . . .
Her knees feeling weak, Nora sat on the opposite end of the couch, folding her hands in her lap, and looked with a mixture of love and despair at her handsome son. She forced a smile onto her pretty, naturally pink mouth, tried to make her voice gay and light as she said, "Well, did you have a nice day, Mickey?"
"Okay, I guess."
"Where did you go?"
"Out for a drive."
"So did I. It was a beautiful day for one."
"Uh-huh."
Nora's smile faded. "Mickey . . . are you sure everything is okay? I mean, well, you're so . . . so distant tonight. . . "
The handsome teen-age youth sighed, then seemed to square his shoulders, and his face lifted and his eyes touched his mother's. Nora saw with increasing despair that there was no light of love in them today, at least not nearly the kind of fervent acceptance which they had contained last night. Could Ross have been wrong, could Mickey have seen them together last night before he entered the house, seen them making love on the very cushions on which mother and son now sat.. . ?
Mickey said, "I've got a lot of things on my mind tonight . . . mom, that's all. I made a big decision today."
"You did?" Nora said, eager to draw him out of the shell he seemed to be in. "What kind of decision, son?"
Mickey reached into his pocket, produced a tiny square box-a jeweler's box. He flipped the top open with his thumbnail, extended the box so that Nora could see inside-and there, nestled in a bed of cotton, was a pair of sparkling diamond rings, expensive rings, one an engagement band and the other a wedding band. "I'm going to get married, mom," he said firmly. "Next week, if arrangements can be made-and if Peggy will have me so soon. But I think she will. Anyway, I'm going over to propose to her tonight . . . "
Nora felt as if she had been kicked in the stomach. She couldn't seem to catch her breath, and faint black dots swam in back of her eyes. She thought for a minute that she was going to faint, then the feeling passed and she stared incredulously at her handsome son. "Mickey . . . you. . . vou can't be serious . . . " she stammered.
"Why not?"
"Well . . . well, you're too young, you're on eighteen and . . . and you said you wanted to go to college next September . . . "
"I'll still be going to college," Mickey said. "And I'm old enough to know my own mind, to know that Peggy and I are in love and that I want her to be my wife . . . "
No, no, no, no! Nora thought despairingly. Oh God, no, Mickey you can't, you can't marry that cheating little bitch! I've got to stop you, somehow I've got to stop you . . . but you won't believe me if I tell you about what I saw in the cabana this afternoon, I know you won't.. .
She said falteringly, "What . . . what brought on this sudden decision? You didn't say anything about marriage last night."
"It's not a sudden decision and I didn't say anything about it because . . . well, I wanted it to be a secret until I picked up the rings and asked Peggy. I probably shouldn't be telling you now, not until I have Peg's answer, but it doesn't make any difference I guess. I might as well tell Uncle Ross, too. Where is he? In his study?"
"No, he's lying down. He . . . doesn't feel very well."
"Then I guess I'll wait until later tonight, or tomorrow to tell him. Don't say anything to him until I talk to him first, okay?"
"If.. . if that's what you want."
Mickey studied his mother for a moment. "How come you sound so upset? You ought to be happy for me, if you love me as much as Uncle Ross says you do."
"I do love you, Mickey! I love you very, very much. It's just that I . . . I'm so surprised. This is all so sudden . . . "
"Yeah, sure," Mickey said. He finished his beer, then got to his feet. "Guess I'll go take a quick shower and get ready for supper."
"Mickey . . . "
"Yeah?"
"Mickey, couldn't you want for awhile? A few months at least, until you're very sure that marrying Peggy is what you really want."
"I'm very sure now," he said positively. "Very sure."
"Son . . . suppose she's not the right kind of girl for you . . . "
His eyes narrowed, and he snapped defensively, "What do you mean by that?"
Nora swallowed hard. "N-nothing," she stuttered. "I . . . I . . . " She felt tears welling in her eyes, and she pressed her hands Over her face, turned, and fled from the room.
Lying once again on the bed in the guest room, more tears spilling down over cheeks, Nora felt a fresh sense of impending doom. This was the very thing she had dreaded, the turning out of her by her son and the embracing of Peggy Reynolds in her place. But she couldn't let Mickey marry that little slut, she couldn't! She would only bring him eventual pain and misery and heartbreak, of that Nora had no doubt at all. She had to stop him, she had to stop him!
But how?
How?
* * *
Supper was a grim affair, eaten in silence, and the lovely blonde mother's heart skipped a beat of anguish every time she looked at her son. He ate quickly, without seeming to taste his food, while Nora picked at her portion, having no appetite at all, managing to choke down only a few mouthfuls of the delicious cold cuts she had prepared.
She was slicing a wedge of melon for him, ice-cold from the refrigerator, when the telephone rang.
Mickey said, "I'll get it, it might be Peggy." He jumped up and hurried into the living room, to where the phone was. Nora busied herself at the counter with the melon, put it on a plate, and set it in Mickey's place. She thought about pouring herself a drink, which she wanted desperately, then decided it wasn't such a good idea with Mickey still there in the house. She compromised by opening a beer for herself. She was sipping from a tall glass when her handsome young son returned from the living room, a perplexed frown on his face.
"That was Peggy," he said. "Her grandmother's sick over in Preston Corners, and the whole family's leaving right now. She won't be back until tomorrow evening."
Nora felt a resurgence of hope, a sense of having been reprieved for just a little while. "You didn't . . . propose to her over the phone, did your
"No," Mickey answered. "She was in pretty much of a hurry, and a telephone is no place for such an important thing anyway."
"Then . . . you won't be asking her until she returns tomorrow night."
"I guess not," Mickey said. He looked at his mother coldly for a moment. "I suppose that makes you happy, huh?"
"Oh Mickey . . . "
"Aww forget it, I'm sorry," he mumbled. He sat down at the table and began to eat the ice-cold melon she had placed there.
Nora stood watching him for a time, her brain whirling as she tried to conjure up a plan, some method of proving to Mickey what a slut Peggy was, of winning his once-again-cooled love for herself so that she would have a chance for future peace and happiness. But still she could think of nothing, and she knew she was trying too hard, that her confused mind was not functioning as well as it should. She had to calm herself, think, think . . . because now, perhaps irrationally, she had the premonition that everything might turn out all right, might turn out happily for her and Mickey, if only she could hit upon the proper plan. . .
* * *
Stretched out on the bed in his darkened bedroom, Ross lay with his hands clasped behind his head and stared at nothing while his thoughts jumbled together in his mind. He felt miserable, sick at his very soul, ashamed and repentant, at what he had done that afternoon with the wanton black-haired Peggy Reynolds-the sudden and consuming weakness, the fiery lust, which had led him to lick the little teen-age bitch's pussy and then to drive his long, hard cock up into her tight belly, panting like a dog there on the cabana floor . . .
Christ, what was the matter with him, to have lost control like that? He had always been a fairly moral man, had always been able to check his surging passions before . . . and now, all of a sudden, he was putty in the grip of a hot-blooded little slut like Peggy Reynolds. And what made it even more terrible, even more inexplicable, was his new-found and powerful love for Nora . . . lonely, confused, desperate Nora, who needed love and kindness and happiness in the worst way, who was open and receptive to him and his love, who had those beautiful shared moments of sheer ecstasy with him on the living room couch last night. If she ever found out it would crush her . . . God, there was no telling what she might do then!
But she must never find out, Ross thought. Never! He had to protect her from the knowledge of his affair with the voluptuous young girlfriend of his nephew, had to bury this afternoon in the caverns of his own mind as if it had never taken place. And above all, he had to make sure that nothing like the episode with Peggy ever took place again . . . had to put a tight reign on his emotions, so that all of his love-all of his sexual desires-were channeled toward Nora, the woman he now loved.
Even so, the guilt-ridden uncle knew that something had to be done about Peggy Reynolds . . . that while he could live with his own guilt at having succumbed to her charms, he could not live with himself if he allowed her to work her wicked spell on Mickey. He was inordinately fond of his nephew, and the thought that Mickey was becoming deeply and emotionally involved with a slut like Peggy was painful. Suppose he fell so deeply in love with her that he wanted to marry her-Christ, Ross couldn't let that happen, the youth had to somehow be shown what Peggy really was.
Yet-how could he do that without admitting his own guilt, something that he didn't dare do?
God, God, why did life have to be so complicated. Why couldn't things be simple, and good . . . why couldn't the three of them-he and Nora and Mickey-live together in peace and harmony and happiness and love?
Someday . . . maybe someday they could . . .
* * *
Midnight.
Unable to sleep, Nora lay in her light, short summer nightgown, searching her mind again and again-as she had all that evening-for some answer to her quandary. And still a plan of action evaded her. She did not have any more idea now what to do than she had earlier, did not know how to save Mickey from the clutches of. that bitch Peggy and from his own foolish actions, did not know how to make him love her, his mother, as deeply as she had discovered that she loved him.
Nora looked at the clock on the bedside table, saw the time. God, is that all it is? she thought It's been an interminable day, a horrible day . . . seeing Ross and Peggy in the cabana . . . hearing Mickey announce his plans to marry Peggy next week, looking at the rings he had bought for her . . the hours of silence after supper, while Mickey watched television and she sat alone with her own thoughts . . .
The lovely blonde mother sighed piteously, then swung her feet over the side of the bed. She had to use the bathroom, and she needed a drink of water as well to soothe her parched throat, dry from all the thinking she had done. Opening the door to the hall, she walked softly through the dark, silent house to the bathroom, performed her duty, drank her glass of water, then sighed again and started back to the guest room.
As she passed Mickey's room, Nora saw that the door was slightly ajar. She stopped, looking at it, and she felt in that moment a deep, motherly need to look at her son, to see him sleeping-a sight she had not been privileged to witness since . . . since she had gone away. Her heart throbbed painfully in her beautiful breast as Nora tip-toed forward, pushed open the door, and peeped into Mickey's room.
Her son lay quietly in his bed, covered by just a sheet which he had kicked down in his sleep, and his muscled, youthful chest rose and fell steadily with his breathing. A pale wash of moonlight flooded in through the window next to the bed, illuminating the handsome youth as he lay there, and Nora could see him clearly; love and deep pride flowed along her spine, clutched at her throat as she watched her son sleeping. He was so handsome, so masculine, so wonderful. . .
As if sub-consciously aware of her eyes on him, Mickey stirred on the bed, moaning softly in his sleep, rolling full onto his back. His feet kicked convulsively at the sheet covering him, and the white bedclothes rustled as the covering drifted down, down over his abdomen and over his thighs to puddle around his knees.
And Nora teas suddenly looking right at her son's penis.
An involuntary gasp strangled in the lovely blonde mother's throat, but Mickey didn't stir any more on the bed. He lay peacefully, his face in repose once again, his legs parted slightly to expose the full sight of his manhood to his mother's widening eyes. His cock, flaccid, lay largely nestled in the thick hummock of his balls, the head huge and red, the glans opening seemingly immense to the staring mother.
Nora couldn't take her eyes off the limp, sleeping penis of this youth she loved so much. It's . . . it's so big! she thought in awe. It's as big as Vern's ever was, as big as Ross' . . . but he was such a little boy, I can remember giving him baths when he was younger and his penis was so little, a little boy's penis and now . . . now he's a man . . .
Nora felt a sudden dryness in her mouth and throat as she stared at the naked, powerful form of her son, at the size of his limply lying young cock. She knew she should turn away, return to the guest room . . . do anything but stand here staring so boldly at her son's penis and testicles. But she could only stand immobile, moistening her pink lips, and in her mind she once again, unwittingly, began to relive the scene between Ross and herself the night before . . . Ross' hard, thick penis deep inside her belly, the sensations his driving weapon caused in her . . . her spiraling delight, the moment of her orgasm with that huge penis inside her . . . a penis like Mickey's . . . Mickey's penis, giving so much pleasure that a woman would have to cry out her delight to him over and over and over again . . .
A deep, hot tingling sensation began in Nora's stomach, and the lovely young mother could feel the tightness of her pussy begin to flower wide with beginning droplets of secretion. Her nipples hardened almost achingly beneath her nightgown, and her breathing began to become ragged and excited. Her eyes feasted on her son's softly reclining length, envisioning it hard now, hard as Ross' had been last night, and as her fantasies became more vivid, bolder, the fiery burning of passion increased proportionately in her loins and breasts and belly.
She began perspiring, and her mind churned with desire. She had the wild, crazy thought of going to Mickey, her son, touching his penis, making it hard so that she could see the full size of it. Then she shook her head sharply, trying to rid herself of the lewd idea. What was the matter i with her, for God's sake? That was her son there, her son! She couldn't think of her own son like that, think about his penis, his big penis, his big hard cock . . .
The fire of sexual deprivation was raging nearly out of control inside the lovely mother now, the fire which Ross had once again stirred into hot flames the night before, stirred and set to raging and demanding more fuel. It was fed now by her licentious thoughts, by the sight of her own son's naked penis. She had to have release, she had to! She was trembling so hard she thought she was going to fall down, and she had to do something . . .
Stifling a small cry, Nora rushed out of her son's room and up the hall to the guest room. Then she lay down on the bed, gasping, and in her mind was locked the burning image of Mickey's cock, flaccid and yes, hard, rock-hard, as big as she imagined it would be in full erection . . . her son's huge, pleasure-giving penis . . .
It suddenly seemed as hot as an oven in the guest room, and Nora pulled her nightgown over her head, lay there completely nude with her firm, rich breasts rising and falling erratically, the image of her son's cock vividly real in her mind. Almost involuntarily then, staring down at her taut breasts, soft-fleshed globes like twin roseate mountain peaks, feeling the churning fire in her wet, hot pussy, Nora moved one hand down and touched her right, desire-swollen tit, touched its nipple, and then pulled her hand back quickly. The contact of her own fingers had intensified the steady aching in her cunt, and her entire being quivered with sexual arousal. She ran her tongue over her lips several times, trying to dispel the arid, cottony taste there, thinking about Mickey's penis . . . Mickey's huge penis . . .
No, no, it's wrong to think about your own son that way! a small part of her mind cried. He's your son, your own flesh and blood . . . for God's sake, you can't have sexual thoughts about the boy that you love, that came into this world from your own womb!
But her inflamed body paid no attention, and the image of her son's cock remained just as vivid, just as exciting, in her mind. As if it was a separate entity, then, Nora's right hand drifted down once again and began to massage her breast, slowly, rhythmically, avoiding the nipple at first, cupping the creamy naked globe in her fingers, kneading the translucent flesh and causing whirlpools of passion to seethe within her lovely body. She spread her legs wide, convulsively, her breathing ragged now, and then she touched the. nipple of her breast with her thumb, felt it diamond hard. She rolled the ball of her thumb back and forth across the erect crest, intensifying further the rising crescendo of sexual frenzy within her.
The beauteous blonde mother arched her back, raising her hips off the bed, spreading wide the hot, wet slit of her pussy. Still she massaged her now wildly trembling breast, teasing the nipple, pinching it between thumb and forefinger until it throbbed like a thing alive.
Mickey's cock, my son's cock . . .
Nora could stand it no longer. Her other hand dipped down, down, between her wide-spread thighs, gentling her middle finger into the warm wetness of her eager, fiery hot slit. The feeling generated by the touch of her own finger on her wet genitalia caused Nora to moan silently with rapture. She manipulated the softly hair-fined inner lips until she could feel them swelling with the rush of blood, and her clitoris was rigid and tingling. Her middle finger came in contact with the trembling hot bud, and she began to gasp with total abandoned delight.
Oh Mickey, my darling Mickey . . . ooohhhhh . . .
Her finger began to rub faster and faster across the sensitive tip of her clit, and the lovely young mother blanked her mind of all thoughts save for her son's huge penis and the delicious ecstatic sensations flowing through her flesh. Her hips flailed frantically at the bedclothes as wave after maddening wave of wild ecstasy soared through her, and she could feel her climax building, building within her. Her left hand squeezed her breast, hard, released it, squeezed it harder, manipulating the nipple, rolling it with maddening delight under the ball of her thumb as the heat spiraled higher and higher and her mind chanted almost hypnotically as her finger flashed with ever-increasing strokes over her hot, wet clitoris, I'm going to cum . . . going to cum . . . I'm going to cum.. .
And then she came!
"Oooohhhhhhhhh!" she cried out in a low gasping whisper, and her body seemed to shake as if with some incredible inner vibration. Her finger continued to rub hard across her clitoris, even as the intense bursting waves of release seared to every nerve in her beautiful body, and her left, hand continued to convulsively squeeze her pliant young breast. Her climax seemed to last for a wonderful, rapturous eternity, her hotly seeping pussy walls secreting warm thick liquid softly onto the sheet beneath her, painting her rapidly moving finger with orgiastic fluid-and as her cum began to ebb, she moaned again and again with delight at the feelings which had seized control of her body. Then, finally, it was completely over and she sagged back on the bed, her hair fanning on the pillow like a silken screen around her head, and she felt weak and drained and tingling with delicious satiation.
She lay there, and slowly the image of Mickey's penis faded from her mind and she waited for the guilt, the shame, which was sure to follow her fingering herself into orgasm . . . her desperate, onanistic release while thinking about her own teenage son's testicles and penis, her own sweet flesh and blood. And yet, the guilt and the shame never came. Instead, in a sudden flash of inspiration, the answer to everything rushed into her mind. With a tingle of excitement, Nora knew that it was just that-the answer-and she knew exactly what she had to do.
Determination filled her now, determination and something else, something deeper and far more base an emotion. She had to save her son from that scheming little bitch Peggy Reynolds, and there were two sure ways of doing that; combined, they would destroy his love for the black-haired young slut forever, channel it elsewhere, channel it where Nora so desperately wanted it: all for her. There was a terrible risk involved in her plan, the risk of losing Mickey completely and irrevocably if she failed in her mission, and yet-if he married Peggy, moved away, she would be losing him anyway. The risk was worth it, well worth it. And if she succeeded, the bliss and love and happiness that she needed would be hers, would be all hers.
She had to take the chance, she had to, there was simply no other way.
She had to prove to Mickey, confront his very eyes with unmistakable and undeniable proof, what a slut Peggy really was.
After first making love to him herself!
The idea of sexual relationship with her son, that handsome youth she had discovered she loved so desperately the past two days, was at once appalling and terribly, wickedly exciting. She knew she wanted him, that she loved him desperately . . . her just completed fingerfucking of herself while thinking of his hard young penis was concrete evidence of that deep-rooted feeling . . . and making physical love to him would forever cement the bond between them, would make them as close as was possible for a mother and son to be, tie them so tightly that no one would ever be able to break the bond, not even themselves.
As much as the idea frightened her, repelled her, entranced and excited her, Nora knew that she was going to go through with it. She had to save Mickey, save herself, and she had to show her young son how much she really loved him. Those were the only things that mattered, really mattered. And she had to do it soon, tomorrow, before he had the chance to propose to Peggy . . .
The beauteous young mother lay in the darkness, thinking, planning, and as she did so her pussy once again began to secrete tiny wet droplets of desire at the salacious, enticing thought of possessing her son completely and totally, for her very own . . .
CHAPTER SIX
Nora put the first part of her plan into operation shortly after breakfast the following morning.
Breakfast itself was cheerless and silent and strained. Ross was the first to come into the kitchen, and when he did so, Nora was at the stove preparing bacon and eggs and coffee. She allowed him to kiss her, noticing the deep bags under his eyes, the hollow, grayish look to his face that told her he was soul-sick at what he had done with Peggy in the cabana yesterday-and for a moment her heart went out to him. Then her resolution firmed and she knew that she had to go through with the plan she had conceived the night before . . . that there was no other alternative now, not if she wanted to save Mickey and herself. It was too bad if Ross was hurt further in the bargain, but he had had his chance and he had failed her, failed both of them, with his weakness. She could no longer accord him primary consideration, not now, not with her and Mickey's future hanging in the balance.
Mickey entered moments after his uncle, said a perfunctory good morning to both of them, then fell into a deep brooding silence. Ross couldn't seem to look at either his nephew or Nora, and he ate with his head bowed at his plate, the guilt that was his clearly evident on his face. He drank the last of his coffee, announced that he had a lot of work to do today and would be spending all his time in the study, and then left the lovely blonde mother and her son alone.
Nora said softly, "What are you planning to do today, son?"
"I don't know," he replied. "Probably just lie around the pool all day-until Peggy comes home tonight."
"What time is she due back from Preston Comers?"
"Eight o'clock."
"Well . . . maybe she'll be spending another night there," Nora said. "I mean, if her grandmother's so ill. . . "
"No, she said she was coming back tonight, even if her mother and father stay there. Tomorrow's Saturday, and she has a part-time job at Woolworth's on Saturday."
"I see," Nora said speculatively. Then she looked fondly, lovingly, at her handsome young son. "I wasn't planning to do anything today either. Maybe we could swim together this afternoon, if you'd like."
"I guess so," he replied unenthusiastically.
After she had cleared away the breakfast dishes, and Mickey had changed into his swim trunks and gone out by the pool, Nora slipped quietly into Ross' bedroom. On top of his dresser she found a note pad, personalized with his name across the top, and she smiled determinedly to herself; so far, so good. In her room, she wrote a note on one of the sheets of paper, disguising her handwriting, then slipped the note into an envelope and sealed it.
Leaving the house, she walked briskly through the quiet, tree-shaded streets of Clayton Heights to the address of Peggy Reynolds, which she had looked up in the local telephone directory. She slipped the envelope, on which she had printed Peggy's name, into the Reynolds' mailbox, then returned directly to Ross' house and changed into her own bathing suit-a tight one-piece black affair that accentuated the taut, high curves of her breasts and the firm roundness of her buttocks. Then she joined Mickey by the poool.
The day passed slowly at first, then quickly, for the anticipatory blonde mother. She swam a little but mostly sat on the patio, watching her handsome, tanned young son either swimming with long graceful strokes or stretched out on a blanket in the sun, working on his tan. Such a fine hard-muscled body, she thought often. So strong . . . so masculine . . . and his penis, you can see it outlined by the tightness of his trunks, so big and long and wonderful . . . I can't wait until tonight, I can't wait to prove my love to him in the finest way possible . . . oh God, I hope everything works out all right tonight, so many things could go wrong . . . Peggy might not get the note, and if she does she might not respond . . . but I know her kind and if she reads wliat I wrote, she'll do what the note says . . . she'll have to, because of her damned bitch's ego . . . but will Mickey agree to what I ask him later on, and if he does will he hate me, reject me, when I make love to him . . . ? No, no, I can't think like that, I have to think everything will be all right, I have to, I have to!
Ross didn't come out of his study all day, at least not to Nora's knowledge, and when she prepared supper and knocked on the door, he told her in a still weary voice that he was going to keep on working. The tone of his voice, his obvious guilt at what he had done yesterday with Peggy, filled the lovely blonde woman with more doubts about her plan. Suppose Peggy followed the note, and Ross rejected her? Suppose his repentance was so deeply rooted that he refused to have anything more to do with the black-haired little vixen? Suppose . . .
Stop it, stop it! she snapped at herself. Ross is a man, isn't he, and Peggy is the kind of bitch that won't be denied. Even if he denies writing the note, she won't be deterred, I know her kind too well. Everything is going to work out, I know it . . . it has to work out, it just has to!
She returned to the kitchen, served supper to Mickey, watching him covertly as he ate. She waited until he had pushed his plate away, sighing, then took a deep breath, and asked, "Mickey, I wonder if you could do me a big favor tonight? I . . . I know I have no real right to ask, but, well . . . I am your mother and I do love you very much and I . . . well, I don't think it's too much to ask."
Mickey looked at her, frowning slightly. "What is it?" he wanted to know.
"I'd like you to take me for a drive tonight-out to the lake, just the two of us. Remember how we used to drive out there together when you were younger, on summer nights like this? How we used to sit and watch the sunset on the water, and the way it turned different colors just before dark?"
The handsome teen-ager's frown deepened. "I have to see Peggy tonight, you know that, mom. She'll be home at eight. . . "
"I'm not asking for much, son. Just an hour or so of your time. It'll be dark about eight, and then we can come back and you can drop me off and drive over to Peggy's. She'll wait a few minutes for you, won't she? After all, Mickey . . . you're going to have her for the rest of your life . . . you can give your mother just a few short minutes. Please, Mickey, please!"
He studied his lovely blonde mother for a moment, at the look of almost desperate entreaty on her face, and try as he might he couldn't hate her or even deny her in that moment. He felt a deep sense of closeness with her, a deep sense of compassion similar to that which he had experienced upon first seeing her yesterday afternoon. In spite of what he had seen last night, the lewd sight of her naked legs rapped so tightly around his uncle's back in the flickering firelight in the living-room, he couldn't find it in himself to refuse her plea, not with that look of pain and hope etched on her face again. He "wasn't that callous or that hard, and she wasn't asking for so very much. He knew that he had to go through with his original idea of marrying Peggy and moving out of his uncle's house, there was just no other way, but he could grant his mother this one small favor. Peggy would still be waiting for him when he returned, and he could ask her to marry him then, give her the ring that he'd bought.. .
"Okay, mom," he said. "I'll take you for a ride out to the lake tonight."
Nora's heart leapt with love and excitement. "Oh Mickey, thank you! You . . . you don't know how much this means to me!"
"Sure, mom."
She hurriedly did the dishes, then told her handsome teen-age son that she would be ready to go in just a couple of minutes. She ran into the guest room, stripped her slacks and shirt and undergarments off, and put on a pair of shorts and a loose pullover blouse-nothing more. She felt deliciously wicked, and her breasts and loins ached with mounting excitement and desire as she thought of what, with luck, would be happening between her and her son in just a little while . . .
At her insistence, they took Ross' new Pontiac; she said that sports cars made her nervous and besides, Uncle Ross wouldn't mind if they used his new car. Mickey put the top down and they drove through the early summer evening, the wind rippling their hair, blowing cool across Nora's beautiful face and further enhancing her excitement. Her pussy was already secreting tiny droplets of excitedly rising desire as she sat with one shapely thigh resting on the seat, leaning against the passenger door, watching her virile young son as he drove with fast, certain ease.
Oh I love you, Mickey, she thought, I truly love you and it won't be long now before I prove just how much I love you, and show you how wrong you are about Peggy Reynolds . . .
They reached the lake and drove around it, and the cool night, the falling sun setting fire to the western sky, seemed to relax Mickey considerably, seemed to bring him out of the shell he had been in for the past two days. He began to talk to his mother, hesitantly at first, then more openly, and although he carefully avoided any personal topics -discussing the weather, the scenery, and other things-Nora was eager for his every word and encouraged him with light, bantering comments of her own.
She knew exactly where she wanted to go, where she wanted this monumental loving of her son to take place-the promontory on which she had first been unfaithful with Art Donnell that night more than five years ago. It was somehow fitting, somehow perfectly ironic that she should regain what was left of her family in exactly the same spot she had started to forsake them-if she was to regain Mickey's love. But confidence was strong in her now . . . confidence and a deep, abiding love, and she was a truly motivated woman.
She directed Mickey around the lake to where the promontory was located, then told him, "Drive out onto that bluff, honey, and well sit there and watch the sunset. It's quiet and deserted, and facing due west. It'll be beautiful."
"All right, mom," the teen-age youth agreed.
Mickey parked the Pontiac, switched off the engine, and they sat talking quietly about more non-personal subjects while they watched the sun sinking further and further beyond the horizon. The sky was awash with pink brush strokes, and colors of pale gray and amethyst, and the waters of the lake turned from a deep indigo to slate and then to flame and then to a deepening, shadowed black. There was an almost magic allure in the air, which Nora could feel and which she knew Mickey could feel too, and she sensed that they would never be any closer without physical contact than they were at this very moment. Now was the time to act, right now . . .
The handsome teen-ager turned and smiled at his mother, and as he did so Nora hugged herself and said in a breathless voice, "Mickey, I'm a little cold. Can I scoot over and sit beside you until we go?"
"Gee, mom . . . maybe I'd better just put up the top . . . "
"No, no, I like the breeze on my face," she replied quickly. "But I would like to sit next to you. Please, Mickey?"
"Well.. . okay," Mickey relented.
Nora slid over next to him, her bare thigh pressing against his leg, her breast against his upper arm. Suddenly, the young boy became aware of the soft, spongy, warm globe pressed against him -acutely aware of it-and he realized his mother wasn't wearing a bra under that loose blouse of hers. He tried to blink away the thought of her breast, but the feel of it so warm next to him was somehow exciting. Uncomfortable, he shifted slightly, but she moved with him, pressing her breast tighter against him, pressing her thigh tighter against his leg, and tiny little droplets of sweat broke out on Mickey's forehead despite the cool night breeze.
Nora looked up at him, her heart threatening to burst from her chest now that the moment was almost at hand, and then leaned up and kissed his cheek, letting her lips linger on his freshly-shaved skin, excited by the fragrance of his cologne. Mickey looked at her, startled by her action, then managed a weak smile.
Nora said, "Honey . . . put your arm around me. I.. . I'd like to feel your arm around me again."
"Mom . . . "
"Please, Mickey dear, please?"
The handsome youth was unable to refuse the request, and finally he lifted his arm and placed it gingerly around his mother's shoulders. Immediately, the lovely blonde woman snuggled even closer to him, resting her head on his shoulder, pressing her breast hotly into his rib cage. She could feel her pussy secreting more flowing liquid now, and her buttocks squirmed ever so slightly on the cool leather of the car seat.
"Mickey," she whispered, "oh Mickey, I love you so very much!"
And before he could reply, before she lost her nerve, the trembling young mother took her son's hand and pressed it tightly over her right breast, holding it there against the spongy softness of the firm, taut globe . . .
* * *
When the doorbell rang at eight-thirty, Ross was in the kitchen fixing himself a stiff brandy-and-water.
The sound of the bell was very loud in the still house, and the guilt-ridden uncle started violently at its sudden intrusion, spilling some of his drink. Insistently, the bell sounded again. Ross put his drink down, wondering who the hell could be calling now, wanting to be alone, wanting to get drunk suddenly, now that he had finished the magazine art lay-out in which he had totally and almost fanatically immersed himself all day. Both Mickey and Nora were gone, and so was his Pontiac, and he had decided that they'd gone somewhere or other together-which was just as well, since he still wasn't ready or able to face either of them . . .
The doorbell, incessantly impatient now, buzzed again, shattering the fragile quiet once more. Ross drew a deep breath, then walked quickly through the silent house, the headache which he had had all day pounding maddeningly in his temples, and pulled open the door, words of angry denunciation for the repeated ringing on his lips-words that were never put to voice, for when he saw who stood on the flagstone porch outside, they froze in his throat.
Peggy Reynolds, smiling her seductive siren's smile, was his evening caller.
Ross' eyes went wide, and his face flamed, and the guilt and shame that he felt welled up into a tight, bitter ball in his stomach. He thought about closing the door, blotting out the intimately smiling face of the lovely, black-haired girl whose flesh he had known so completely the day before, but he couldn't seem to do it. He could only stare at her, at her voluptuous body encased in a different pair of hot pants and a sleeveless jersey, her long black hair cascading over her shoulders.
"What. . . what do you want?" he demanded in a tremulous voice.
"Well, that's a fine greeting after that note you wrote me," Peggy answered mockingly, her eyes insolent as they studied the front of his trousers with hot recollection of his huge cock. She moistened her lips with growing desire, the same desire which she had had when she'd read his note, and which had brought her over here immediate-
Ross frowned. "What note."
"Oh come on, now, honey, you know what note."
"No . . . no, I don't."
"The note that read and I quote: 'Please come to see me tonight, Peggy. There won't be anyone home and I have to have you again. I've been going crazy with wanting you and I want to hold you in my arms and do the same things to you that I did yesterday in the cabana. Please come, Peggy, I'll go crazy if you don't!' "
"I.. . I never wrote any note like that," Ross exclaimed in a shocked voice.
"Oh I get it," Peggy whispered huskily. "You've had a change of heart since you wrote it. Well, I know how you really feel, now don't I? There's no use in kidding ourselves. I came to you, just like you asked and in spite of my better judgment. I should be home waiting for Mickey. But since you said you'd be alone, I thought I'd come over and let you give me a good, quick fuck before I see him. I really do like that big cock of yours inside me, sweet, just the way it was yesterday, and I can't wait for it to fill me up again!"
"You're . . . you're crazy!" Ross whispered fervently, but Peggy just laughed insolently, provocatively, and stepped past him to enter the house as if she owned it. Her hips switched exaggeratedly as she walked into the living room.
Ross stared after her, confusion reigning supreme in his body, wanting to scream at the little bitch to get out of his house, to get out of it right now . . . and yet, he couldn't take his eyes off her sensuously rolling young buttocks, remembering the feel of their softly squirming cheeks beneath his kneading fingers yesterday, the way she had moaned and writhed and flung herself against him in the cabana while he had emptied great gushing torrents of his hotly boiling cum into her tight, hot young pussy . . .
Involuntarily, Mickey's uncle felt his cock spasm into half-arousal in his pants, felt himself losing control again just as he had yesterday, and a low moan of self-loathing died in his throat. He was sick, that's what he was, sick to be captivated and enthralled by a girl young enough to be his daughter, by a young cruel bitch who didn't care about him or Mickey or anything but her own hedonistic pursuits and pleasures. There was no note, Ross thought bitterly. It was something she made up, an excuse to come over and torment him again . . .
He went into the living room, and the black-haired teen-age girl was standing there with her hands on her hips, her abdomen thrust out lewdly to him. "Do you want to fuck me here, or in your bed, Ross honey?" she asked lewdly. "I'd like it in your bed, if you want the truth. I love to fuck in a bed, a big soft bed with a big hard cock . . . "
"I . . . I don't want you anywhere!" Ross cried confusedly. "I want you to go away, leave me alone, leave me alone!"
Lazily, seductively Peggy stepped up to him and stood so that her large, firm young breasts were almost touching the front of his shirt. "There's no use in trying to kid me, honey. I can see how much you want me, I can see it by the big bulge there in your pants. You've got a hard-on just thinking about fucking, you can't deny it, sweet. Your big cock gives you away."
Her obscene words, her bold actions, sent Ross' mind into a whirlpool of fear and trepidation. And yet, they also caused a quickening of his pulse, hot tingles of desire to shoot through his loins, his prick to jump into even further arousal in his pants. His eyes were fastened on the rise and fall of her breasts, on the taut, flat mound of her tight young cunt and the wild ecstasy it offered.
Oh Christ! His desire weakened mind cried. It's happening again, and I can't stop it!
"Well, sweet?" Peggy asked. "Where shall we fuck? In your bed?"
"N-no, I . . . I . . . "
The black-haired young girl laughed softly, delightedly. Boy oh boy, she thought, is he shook up! I can do anything I want with Mickey's uncle, anything at all, and what a great feeling it is to be able to turn a hi" strong man like him on. He's better than any cock I've had . . . he really knows what screwing is all about. . . mmmmmm, tonight I think I'll let him shove it into my asshole . . . I haven't been fucked in the asshole in a long time, and with his huge prick it should really feel great.. .
Still chuckling wickedly, Peggy pressed her young, hot body tightly against Ross', her mouth finding his and grinding hard against it, her hands sliding familiarly over his buttocks. He tried to resist, tried to force her mouth away from his, but he seemed to have no strength or real will to oppose her. Her hot, wet tongue lashed between his lips, a hot poker of desire blending against his own, hot and fevered, fucking his mouth, fucking it rapaciously.
Ross, all at once, stopped fighting. There was just no use, no use at all; he couldn't control himself, he had to have her again, he had to! His mouth opened wider, his body relaxing, and he crushed her against him, his fingers brutally kneading her buttocks through the material of the hot pants, his loins grinding his now-rock-hard cock urgently against her young cunt, a low moan of abandoned desire escaping from the very core of him.
They stood like that, sucking on one another's tongues, exploring one another's bodies with their eager hands, then Peggy broke the kiss and stepped back breathlessly. "Let's go in the bedroom now, sweet," she breathed. "Let's get into your bed and fuck and fuck and fuck!"
"Yes, oh yes!" Ross heard himself reply, his body on fire, the heat of his desire blanking his mind again just as it had the day before in the cabana. He didn't care about anything in that moment, not about Nora or Mickey or himself and his mental salvation-all he cared about was driving his hard, throbbing shaft deep up into the tight, eager young belly of this predatory bitch in whose web he was undeniably entrapped . . .
* * *
Mickey gasped in shocked surprise as he felt his mother take his hand and place it over her breast, squeeze his fingers onto the soft, warm mound. His penis gave an involuntary leap in his trousers, and his heart thudded wildly while his brain spun in disbelief at his mother's wanton action. He tried to remove his hand, but she was holding it tightly across her palpitating flesh, and the softness of her breast was like electrical volts running up the length of his arm and exploding in his brain.
"My God, what . . . what are you doing, mom?" he managed to protest in a hoarse voice.
"Mickey, darling, I love you, I love you desperately!" she answered pantingly, her eyes half-lidded sensually and probing into his. "I want to prove that to you in the best possible way." She took his hand lower, sliding it under the bottom of her loose blouse, up along her naked belly, holding it then over the rich, soft hot sponginess of her pliantly bare breast, the palm pressing tautly against the turgid nipple capping her firm mound.
The teen-age youth gasped again, and he twisted on the seat, staring down at his mother on the seat beside him. Her bare breast sent fiery needles through his whole body now, and the sweat on his forehead increased. His brain continued to spin; he didn't understand, couldn't fathom in that moment what was happening here . . .
Her son's hand made Nora shiver with lascivious delight as she held it pressed over her trembling breast. "Oh son, son, your hand feels so good on my breast! I like you to hold me like that, I love you to!"
Mickey couldn't seem to breathe. The sweat had flowed down into his eyes now, obscuring his vision. Christ, what was she doing? He was her son, not. . . not Ross or one of her lovers, didn't she realize that? His mother . . .what had come over her, acting this way? Was she . . . was she so sick as to want him too . . . to want her own son to fuck her the way Uncle Ross had fucked her two nights ago?
Nora turned her face up to his, breathing warm sweetness against his skin, her eyes shining and deep in the darkness of early night with something Mickey had seen only on women who were about to be loved-women like Peggy when he held her naked in his arms. She began to move his hand, around and around her breast, the palm rolling her rigid nipple in tantalizing little circles that caused her breath to come faster and faster from her mouth, her entire body trembling now with desire. Mickey was frozen, unable to stop her actions, his arm and hand placid clay in his mother's dexterous fingers, his stomach a pit of fire at the prurient sensations which had begun to course through him from her manipulations, from the feel of his mother's naked flesh. His cock jerked and trembled, coming erect in his trousers, and he thought, No, no, this is wrong . . . my God, no, I've got a hard-on and it's the feel of my own mother's titties that's giving it to me . . . I'm just as hot as I was last night, watching her getting fucked by Uncle Ross . . . yes, yes, so excited and all because of my mother . . .
"Mickey darling," Nora whimpered, "kiss me! Kiss me right now!"
There was no other world left for the handsome teen-age youth now except that tiny area of existence inside the parked car; there was no lake, no soft moonlight, no trees or beach or singing crickets. There was nothing at all except this mind-blowing tableau of his mother rubbing his hand-her son's hand-across her naked, throbbing breast and begging him to kiss her, kiss her not like a son but like a lover.. .
Nora's sensually lidded eyes grew closer to his, closer, closer, then she brought her mouth over his, her lips opening wide and moving on his lips. Fiery passion seethed through Mickey at the contact of his mother's soft, wetly nibbling mouth on his own, and he began to tremble, her breast under his hand as hot as a burning mound of fired clay. Then Nora's hot, wet tongue was flashing into his mouth, meeting with his, gyrating madly with his tongue. Mickey's cock was fully erect now, palpitating with forbidden desire, and his balls ached at the contact of his mother's body with his, her mouth with his. Her free hand went down onto his knee, causing him to jerk spasmodically with further electrical jolts of pleasure, then she drew her hand higher, higher, moving it along his thigh as her tongue and mouth worked wildly on his own, as her body strained hard against his on the car seat.. .
Nora was consumed with raging desire now, for she knew her plan was succeeding and more so because of the intense pleasure of making love to this youth she had borne from her womb, whom she loved so desperately. Her hand stroked his leg, her other hand helped his caress her quivering breast, and she moaned deep in her throat as she swirled his saliva with hers in both their mouths, mother's and son's commingling in hot wetness there.
This is wrong . . . this is wrong . . . this is wrong . . . Mickey's confused young mind chanted, but still he could do nothing to stop what was happening. It was as if he had been held spellbound by the enchantment of his mother and her sweet, soft, soft, hot flesh. His love for her was suddenly as strong as any man's for any woman's, as strong as his for Peggy, and he realized in that moment of insight that he had loved her deeply all along, never really stopped loving her even when she left him. But he had never dreamed that it could be in any way sexual . . . his love for her and hers for him, for her knew now that she loved him as much as he did her. And yet now, at this moment, he could not deny the driving emotions, the all-consuming fire, which spiraled hotly through his flesh-which had spiraled through his flesh, too, when he had watched her receiving Uncle Ross' long, hard cock deep inside her welcoming cunt and had had the wish that he could take his uncle's place . . .
His arms tightened convulsively around his mother-he wanted her, he actually wanted to fuck his own mother! She caressed his thigh with harder and quicker strokes now, then released his hand on her breast, brought it over to caress his chest through the thin shirt he wore, both her hands moving hotly, restlessly, over her son's trembling body. Mickey tried in one last desperate attempt at rational behavior to remove his hand from his mother's softly resilient breast, but he couldn't, he couldn't move at all except to continue to caress her, hold her tightly to him, tweak her hot, hard nipples into further arousal, fuse his tongue with hers in a mad, wet hot kiss of desire.
Then his mother's eager, searching hand moved all the way up his thigh, found the aching bulge between his legs, began to move over it with gentle yet demanding fondling. The touch of her fingers on his hardened prick, his swollen balls, brought a slow, nervous trembling to Mickey, agonized animalistic groans from deep in the core of his young body, but he couldn't stop her, he couldn't stop her at all. . .
Oh yes, yes, he's as big as I knew he would be! Nora thought wildly as she stroked softly at her son's cloth protected genitals. It's so wonderful, the feel of his cock as a man, the same little cock I washed and touched so many times when he was a baby . . . ooooohhhhh, Mickey, I want you, I love you, I have to have you, I have to kiss that wonderful cock I used to see so often before . . .
Now Nora's questing fingers located the zipper of her son's fly, began to draw it down. She broke the kiss then, nuzzled his cheek, his neck, reveled in his gasping. Against his ear she whispered hotly, "Let me take it out, Mickey son. Let me take it out and hold it in my hand!"
"M-m-mom . . . " he managed to wheeze, in a last semblance of rationality, of propriety. "You . . . you can't . . . can't do this, oh God it's wrong, it's . . . it's wrong . . . "
"Mickey, darling, I love you, I want you!"
"Ooohhhhhhh. . . "
"You love me too, don't you, sweetheart? You want to love me all the way like I love you, don't you? Say you do, Mickey, let me take it out and hold it . . . "
There was no more resistance left in the handsome teen-ager. Never had his body been so hot, so consumed with desire. Yes, he wanted her! Yes, yes, yes, he wanted his mother! He loved her, he loved her, he had always loved her, and this was the ultimate expression of love, yes, yes, "Yes, mom, yes, ohhhhh, I love you, Mom, take it out, take it out right now . . . ! "
Nora's fevered fingers drew the zipper all the way down, then went to his belt as Mickey continued to massage her breast under the loose blouse, showering hot kisses into her soft blonde hair and neck. His lovely mother unfastened his belt, opened his pants, drew them away. Then her long-nailed fingers slipped inside the waistband of his shorts, pulled them down and away from his hard, moistly lubricated young penis, as Mickey lifted his buttocks convulsively to help her.
Then his cock was free of its constricting garmenting, free and naked in his mother's hot hand, and Nora gasped at the sheer immensity of it, the hot rigidity of the shaft of flesh of her son which she held so tightly in her hand. And never had anything felt so good to Mickey as the soft warm smoothness of his mother's hand wrapped so lovingly around his naked erection! Wave after wave of prurient desire swept like a floodtide through his body, and he moaned aloud in his ecstasy, mindless with arousal, past all caring of anything but the delights surging through his flesh.
Nora transferred his rock-hard prick to her other hand, using the former to caress the underside of the shaft with her long nails, up and down, up and down. Then they dipped lower, located his sperm swollen young testicles and began to tease softly around them, causing the hotly boiling sperm to build heavier and heavier in her son's aching young scrotum.
Her passion-lidded eyes stared down at the huge, palpitating shaft she held in her hand, and fiery desire raged out of control in her own body. The quivering head glistened wetly in the darkness from its sheen of excited lubrication, the unseeing eye staring at her like some symbol of pleasure and orgasm and wonder. His penis seemed to sway in her hand, as if with a hidden power of its own, cobra-like, commanding her to come nearer, to engulf it within the soft, sensitive folds of her mouth.
Panting raggedly with excitement, Nora opened her mouth, licking her lips, allowing her tongue to stretch out between them. She moved her head downward, slowly, lower and lower so that it was only an inch above the wavering head of her son's now fully hardened young penis, the jutting pink little tongue almost touching the secreting little split in the tip . . .
Mickey realized in that moment what his mother wanted to do, what she was about to do, and he was seized with a momentary spasm of revulsion. No, not that, God not that! Peggy had sucked him off that way many times, but that was different.
Peggy wasn't his mother . . . that was his mother, his mother about to suck his penis up between her soft, wet lips . . . But even as he thought that, the tremendous excitement of the act struck the handsome youth full force, causing his prick to leap anticipatorily in his mother's hand, and he knew he did want it to happen, no matter what, he wanted her to suck his cock! That was all that made any sense, all that really counted, his mother's warm, smooth fleshed inner mouth sucking his cock, his mother that he loved so much.. .
Her son's penis was all, was the world, for Nora Hammond now. She dipped her head forward, her heart threatening to burst through her chest cavity, her pussy raging with desire . . . and then her tongue touched the smooth rubbery tip of her son's cockhead, touched it and tasted the bittersweet pungency of his seminal fluid. Yes! her mind cried exultantly. Yes, this is what I've wanted to do all along . . . oohhhhhh, it tastes so good, my wonderful son's cock tastes so good.. . !
Nora began to swirl her tongue around the tiny thin opening, lapping up all the virile tasting emissions there, and her son groaned wildly, his fingers convulsing tightly in her blonde hair at the electric touch of her moist hot tongue on his pulsating cock. She ovaled her mouth wider to accept the entire head inside, moving her tongue in circular, progressively faster strokes, holding the base between her thumb and forefinger with one hand while she tickled his balls maddeningly with the nails of the other.
"Ooooohhhhhh!" Mickey wailed in abandoned delight, his fingers convulsively twisting in his mother's swirling blonde hair. "Ohhhh yes, Mom, darling Mom, yeessssss!"
Nora began to suck rhythmically up and down now, as she had used to suck Art Donnell's cock in that special way he had showed her, taking more and more of her son's hardened shaft of penile flesh into the interior of her soft hot mouth, her tongue working with excruciating swirls at the al-most-withdrawal from the warmth of her lips. She parted the tiny opening at the end with the tip of her fiery probe, widening it so that more semen flowed out against her tongue. Her son jerked his hips upward off the car seat paroxysmically, driving his rod deep and hard against the roof of his mother's softly sucking mouth. He was moaning in enraptured cadence now, squeezing Nora's breasts hotly and almost painfully, his balls aching with the need for release.
His lovely blonde mother was sucking him voraciously now, completely lost in the lewdness of the act which she was performing, reveling in the salacious taste of her son's cock. Mickey's buttocks twisted and rolled on the seat as the intensity of her sucking increased. She began to nibble with her sharp white teeth the rock-hard, bloated skin of his blood-filled member, sipping at it eagerly, wanting him to cum, wanting to taste his hotly flowing young semen as it filled her mouth to overflowing. Her own loins were aching with increasing tension as her orgasm built higher and higher, wanting to cum herself as she knew her son would soon cum, wanted them both to cum together, mother and son, lovers.. .
She began to suck him faster and faster, more wildly, her hips churning madly as she strained her head harder down on his lap, her eyes squeezed tightly shut. Her head bobbed up and down with frenzied speed, like some impossibly functioning piston, taking all of his cock into her hot, wet mouth even though she would have at first deemed such a feat impossible. The lovely mother's lips and nose were pressed against the wiry bristles of her son's thick pubic hair on the downstroke of her head, and she could sense the young masculine aroma of his genitals wafting into her nostrils, spurring her on even faster.
Never, never, had anything been this wonderful for Mickey . . . not even Peggy's expert manipulations. This was the greatest, this was the ultimate . . . He had to cum, had to cum in his mother's soft, wet mouth . . . had to cum, had to cum . . . had to-
And suddenly, without warning, he did cum!
He screamed, "Ooooooohhhhhhhh, that's it, Mom, I'm cumming, aaaaaahhhhhh!"
He jammed his hips upward, burying his cock deep in his mother's desperately working throat, while she moaned ecstatically. Then the first hot thrusts of semen spurted from the opening in his hotly flaring cockhead, inundating the back of his mother's voraciously sucking mouth, geysering madly up out of his excitedly jerking penis. Her throat tightened and untightened as torrent after torrent of his burning fluid gushed forth, swallowing desperately to keep from choking on the frothing hot liquid, her cheeks bloating and hollowing as the warm, semen-flooded cavern of her mouth filled and emptied, filled and emptied . . .
Nora's own orgasm struck then, brought about and triggered by the act she was performing on her son, the total abandonment of loving him this way. Wild, rapturous, kaleidoscopic release took hold of her, ten times as great and wonderful as with Ross two nights ago, or by her own finger last night. She gurgled and squealed around her son's ejaculating cock, still swallowing his seemingly never-ending flow of virile young sperm, trying not to lose a single droplet of the precious seed. She reached a height so dizzying, a pinnacle of pleasure so great, that her mind threatened to burst from the sheer physical pressure of it . . .
Finally, moments later, her son's cock deflating in her gently nibbling mouth, the lovely blonde mother lifted her head, letting the pleasure-giving instrument slide wetly from between her lips, trailing a thin band of cum between her mouth and his slowly receding cockhead. Mickey leaned back against the seat, half comatose from the excruciating bliss he had just known from his mother's mouth on his prick, unable to think, unable to do anything in the aftermath of such great delight.
Nora leaned over and kissed him with her still semen-glistening lips, gently, tenderly, lovingly, on the mouth, hugging him fiercely, and into his ear she whispered, "I love you, Mickey darling, I wanted to make you happy and to make you love me. Did I, darling, please tell me I did!"
It was a long moment before Mickey could answer, then he said, the words filling him with a new sense of wonder at the world and at himself, "Yes, Mom, oh darling Mom, you made me happy and you showed me that I've never stopped loving you all along. Oh Mom, I love you too, I really love you more than anything in the world!"
Those were the words that Nora had longed so desperately to hear, and sheer ecstasy swept through her flesh, an ecstasy of a different sort but no less intense than the orgasm she had just experienced. The first part of her plan had succeeded, perfectly, beautifully, magnificently, and she was glowingly happy at that very moment. She snuggled against her wonderful, satiated son, thinking about the second part of her plan, that if it, too, succeeded things would then be absolutely, irreconcilably perfect.
She kissed her son again, smiling as she thought of what was certainly happening at that very minute back at Ross' house, what she and Mickey would soon be walking in on if all went according to plan . . .
CHAPTER SEVEN
When Peggy Reynolds and Ross Hammond reached his bedroom, the lovely black-haired teen-age siren immediately pulled her blouse over her head and unfastened the buttons on her hot pants, letting both garments fall at her feet. She wasn't wearing any panties or bra, and she stood completely naked, the black, sparsely growing curls of her pubic hair glistening wetly with her arousal and her large, firm young breasts quivering in proud anticipation as she stared at the sweating, lust-incited older man. "Make yourself naked, sweet," she crooned. "Right now . . . hurry, I want to see your big hard cock!"
Ross moaned at the obscene suggestion of this young teen-age girl, and his hard, thick cock, fully erect in his trousers, ached with wild passion. Staring at her voluptuous nakedness, he tore at his clothing until he, too, was standing nude before her, his cock jutting out like a gigantic spear from his hirsute loins, the moistly lubricated head pointing impatiently at her trembling body. His brain whirled with lust, totally abandoned to the captivating powerful femininity of this black-haired little bitch. He wanted her desperately, just as he had yesterday in the cabana, and he couldn't control himself; his body was vibrating wildly, and his balls ached painfully with spiraling semen.
Peggy stepped up to him, breathing hotly into his face, took his hand and guided it down between her parted thighs, shivering as his automatically extended middle finger slid along the moist, heated expanse of her waiting young cunt, slipping inside her vagina like a lance of fire. Then her fingers curled over his cock, stroking it lightly, tickling his balls with her little finger, her eyes staring hotly, sensually into his. Still holding his throbbing shaft in her hot, soft little hand, his finger still teasing over her clitoris and the swollen lips of her young, tight cunt, she guided him to the bed and fell with him upon it.
"Now, lover, this time I want you to fuck me in the asshole!" she moaned. "I want to feel your big hard cock burrowing up into my rectum . . . I want you to do it right now, hurry, hurry!"
Ross froze momentarily at the salacious invitation, and his passion-dnink mind tried to reject the lewd idea. But it was too maddeningly exciting, and he was no longer in control of his senses, ruled completely by the blood-throbbing hardness of his cock and the sperm-bloated sac of his testicles, his loins and his desire all powerful. Breathing raggedly with inflamed heat, the handsome uncle of the young teen-age girl's boyfriend got up on his hands and knees on the bed, drawing her quivering young loveliness up with him, turning her so that the full splendor of her nakedly pulsating buttocks were presented to his eyes. His cock jutted out like a huge monstrous implement of tormented delight from his dark-haired loins, the lubricated head almost touching the already rhythmically working little sphincter ring of the teenage girl's tight little anus. He began, then, mesmerically, to stroke Peggy's soft white buttock mounds, teasing her rectum with the tip of his finger, reveling in the moans of pleasure which were erupting from the young girl's throat. Slowly, tantalizingly, he inserted the tip of his forefinger into her anal opening, the same opening he had licked with his tongue the day before, wiggling the probe around inside, drawing greater whimpers of increasing desire from her. Then he put both hands on her whitely quivering buttock moons, using his thumbs to draw the hot, sweat-slick fissure between them wide apart, the glistening cheeks parting to reveal the rubbery opening of her brown, puckered anal canal. He leaned forward, so that the hard, fleshy knob of his blood-engorged penis almost touched the tiny, eager hole, poising there, and Peggy emitted a low shriek of desire, reached behind her, and grasped his cock in her tiny hand, guiding the head impatiently against her asshole, wiggling the semen-coated tip hotly around the small aching entrance.
"Fuck me, Ross honey, fuck me . . . ohhhhhh, fuck me with your big hard cock . . . shove it in, shove it all the way up my ass!"
Ross was unable to restrain himself any longer. He moved his hips, teasing the shaft along the wide held crevice of her ass, as Peggy still grasped it. Then he leaned forward as she placed it directly into the tiny, working hole, and with a powerful, sudden thrust, clutching at her buttocks with clawed fingers, he bored his thick rigid cock far up into her tiny resisting anal passage, forcing it through the tightly clenched membranous channel to bury it almost up to his testicles with that single, lust-inspired thrust.
"Aaaaaaagggggghhhhhhhh!" the black-haired girl screamed in wild, masochistic delight, and her hand, still cupped behind her, grasped his softly swinging balls, kneading them convulsively, almost painfully, urging him to sink more of his prick into her painfully accepting anus.
Ross clutched hard at her hips, flexing again as he thrust still deeper into her rectum, into the warm forbidden depths of her bowels. The pressure pushed Peggy forward, pushed her head down on the rumpled bedclothes, and he reached under her heaving torso to cup and squeeze her large, firm young breasts, savagely tweaking her swollen nipples as he heaved forward with long sawing strokes of his cock up into her wide-stretched anus, the rubbery walls helplessly expanding before his invading rod, while she toyed and fondled his sperm-engorged scrotum excitedly in her hot little hand. Finally, with one vicious, ass-smacking lunge, he buried every single inch of his huge, thick cock into her warm, tight asshole.
"Oooooooooohhhhhhhhhhh!" Peggy mewled. "Ohhhhhh, Ross sweet, it hurts, it hurts! But I love it, I love it, don't stop, keep fucking me back there harder . . . mmmmmmmm!"
Ross continued to drive his powerful thick cock up into the young teen-age girl's tightly clenching anus with hard, brutal strokes, his hands squeezing her breasts as if they were molding clay between his fingers, his loins smacking savagely against her upturned buttock cheeks. His balls felt as though they were on fire where they rested in her convulsively kneading fingers that pressed them tight against her wetly secreting pussy below.
Peggy's head flailed from side to side, reveling in this lewd sodomizing of her backside, and she buffeted back harder and harder against her boyfriend's uncle's wildly pistoning cock, feeling his cum-bloated testicles hot and sweating in her hand, the smack of his loins against her buttocks echoing loudly through the room. The pleasure-pain of his kneading fingers on her swaying, aching tits was almost unbearable. Her lovely white buttocks were a blur of motion, gyrating, twisting, slamming backward as she went wild with the thick, fleshy pressure filling her asshole almost to the splitting point.. .
* * *
Nora sat very close to her son, her hand on his thigh and her head on his shoulder, as he drove the Pontiac away from the promontory and the moonlit lake. She had had no trouble convincing him that they should leave right after her orgiastic oral lovemaking, telling him that she wanted to go back home where they could sit together and talk. Mickey had quickly agreed, and there had been no mention made of Peggy, whom the handsome youth was supposed to have met at eight o'clock -a fact which filled his lovely blonde mother with a sense of happiness, a feeling that everything was surely going to be wonderful and perfect for her and her son from now on.
Mickey drove mechanically, his mind still awhirl with the advent of the new emotions his mother's sucking of his penis had brought forth inside him, the new feelings he had never thought himself capable of but which were now overpowering. I should feel guilty, disgusted, for allowing my own mother to suck me off and cumming in her mouth like that. But I don't feel guilty, I feel only a deep, warm love for her. Oh God, I love her! I've loved her all along!
A few minutes later they reached Summervale and Clayton Heights, and he was swinging the Pontiac into the drive at his uncle's home. Once inside the garage, he shut off the engine, headlights, then he and his mother got out of the car, clinging to each other, and walked along the rear path to the porch door like young lovers, like the lovers they now were. Mickey keyed open the door, and they entered the dark, silent house. Nora's heart beat faster in her breast, her ears straining for some sound, hoping against hope that the expected scene would be taking place somewhere in the house.
As she and her son crossed the darkened kitchen, opened the door into the hallway leading to the living room and bedrooms, the stillness was suddenly shattered by a girl's ecstatic, wailing cry.
"Ooooohhhhhh, yessssss, sweet, fuck it, fuck it harder . . . aaaahhh, that's the way to do it, that's how I like my asshole fucked . . . ! "
Mother and son froze, although Nora's heart leapt with excitement. Perfect, perfect! It had worked out perfectly! Mickey's mouth dropped open. "My . . . my God!" he whispered. "That . . . that sounded like . . . like Peggy!"
"Yes, it did," Nora told him seriously, pretending to be grim. "I . . . I think it came from your uncle's bedroom, Mickey."
The handsome teen-age youth blinked, not believing the words he had just heard cried out, not believing that it could have been Peggy, his Peggy, who had cried them. What was happening in his uncle's bedroom, for Christ's sake? What was going on?
"Come on, Mickey," the lovely blonde mother urged, pulling her son along the hallway. "Let's see what's happening in there."
Mickey followed obediently, blindly, as they crept along the darkened corridor. As they neared Ross' bedroom, he saw that the door was standing partially open, as if left in haste, and light from a nightstand lamp issued forth pale illumination.
Nora, too, saw the door standing open and she was filled with wild excitement at the way her plan was working. She could hear the harsh, animal-like sounds emanating from the bedroom as they neared the door, the moans and grunts, the harsh wet slapping of naked flesh fucking against naked flesh. And she knew that her son could hear them, too, for his face was taking on a shocked look of disbelief.
They reached the door, stopped, and then took the final step forward, together, which allowed them to see inside the room. What was transpiring there, blatantly obvious on the bed not six feet away across the room, caused a startled gasp to issue forth from Mickey's young throat. He stared incredulously at the scene. No, it's not possible, he thought dazedly, sickly. Ross . . . my uncle Ross . . . he's . . . oh my God, he's on the bed and naked with Peggy . . . it is Peggy, my girl and she's . . . ooohhh Jesus, she's letting him fuck her in the ass with his cock, she's playing with his balls while he's fucking into her asshole from behind . . . !
"My . . . my God, Mickey!" Nora whispered against his ear, in pretended horror. "Look . . . look at what they're doing in there!"
Mickey was looking, he couldn't help but stare at the tableau of animalistic pursuit being enacted in the other room. His eyes bulged wide as he peered through the partially open door, trying to fathom deep in his soul the reason for what he was seeing, the actions of his uncle, of the girl he had thought he loved, which had led to this incredible sodomy. But he couldn't imagine them, he could only stare at the two on the bed in shocked confusion, rooted to the spot as he had been in watching his mother and Uncle Ross two nights ago.
Nora pressed up tightly against him, her soft warm body against his hard one, her eyes feasting on the same lewdly inciting sight as his were, at her ex-husband's brother's long hard penis that was only two nights ago slithering hard and fast up into her own pussy, fucking mercilessly in and out of the young teen-age girl's tightly constricting anus. God, he was really giving it to the snooty little bitch! And she deserved it, every painful inch of it, every painful second of Ross' big hard cock driving deep up inside her bowels! Nora clutched at her son's arm more tightly, her eyes liquid, unable to look away either from the lustful sight. She rubbed her breast almost unconsciously against Mickey's arm, her naked hot breast that he had clasped in his hand only a short while earlier.
Mickey felt his mother's firm, full body rubbing against his own flesh, but at first his mind was filled with thoughts of Peggy, thoughts whirling crazily of what he and the voluptuous young girl had had together, of the love he'd thought he felt for her. But this girl, this carnally excited little bitch having her asshole fucked by a man old enough to be her father, by his own uncle, this wasn't the same Peggy he loved, was she? But . . . but there could be no denying what he saw, and Mickey knew that he should hate the little slut for what she was doing in there, for her betrayal of his love and trust, and yet, curiously, he couldn't hate her at all. He was a different individual than he had been two days ago, than he had been even that very morning-what he had experienced, done with his mother at the lake made that an irrefutable fact-and this different person, this new Mickey Hammond, was not capable of hating a girl who was doing almost the same thing he had been doing with his mother those few short minutes ago.. .
Mickey's awareness of the hot, firm flesh of his mother came then, her body pressed against his, her firm nakedness under the blouse she wore. Her cunt, a wild irrational part of his brain cried suddenly, what does my mother's cunt look like and feel like? Oh God, what would it he like to put my cock inside my own mother, to send it slowly, lovingly, pistoning in and out of her tight hot pussy.. . ?
The lewd, obscene thoughts caused molten fire to surge through the young man's loins, caused his prick, already once satiated by his mother's soft warm mouth, to leap into arousal and bulge the front of his pants. The sight of his uncle fucking his hard erect penis into Peggy's tight brown anus added fuel to that fire, but it was by no means, even standing there, the most important or enticing sight-no, it was his mother's body, thoughts of his mother, which sent Mickey's cock thrusting upward in blood-boiling rigidity . . .
His hands began to squeeze his mother's arm convulsively, then slid around as if with a will of its own and located the soft pliancy of her firm quivering breast. He stroked it lovingly, passionately, turning his body slightly toward her without taking his eyes off the wildly fucking couple in the other room, so that his burgeoning prick was pressed against the firmness of his mother's thigh. His breath came faster, faster, and his lips caressed the side of her face. "Mom . . . " he moaned almost inaudibly, "oh my darling Mom . . . "
The lovely blonde mother had been staring in at Peggy Reynolds being sodomized by her ex-brother-in-law, and the lascivious tableau had caused her pussy to flower with the juices of renewed passion. The heat soared and swirled in her belly, causing her nipples to harden under the blouse, and she could feel the trembling erectness of her clit nestled between the wet pink folds of her hotly fired cuntal lips. She had meant only to be indignant, outraged, horrified at what was happening in the bedroom, the same emotions she expected from her son, but when he had only stood staring with shocked immobility, she too had done the same-and the absolute lewd carnality of the scene was now having its effect on her. She had wished her son would rush into the other room, scream out at Peggy, call her vile names, hit her . . . but he had only stared, not moving . . .
Only now he was moving, but not into the bedroom, no, he was moving against her and his hand had slipped around to knead and fondle her breast, he was breathing hotly against her face, whispering to her. He . . . he was aroused! She could feel his hardness pressing against her leg! Instead of being horrified by what he was witnessing Peggy and his uncle doing, he was excited by it. . . and he wanted her, he wanted to fuck his mother!
The lovely Nora's heart hammered with indecision as she pressed hard against her son, let him kiss her face and press his erect hard cock against her leg. Passion churned within her, for she wanted him as much as he wanted her, in spite of herself her own desires were fired by the lewd act in Ross' bedroom-and yet, this was not the time, this was not the place, if she succumbed to her lustful desires she would be no better than Peggy.. .
Then, suddenly in that moment, Nora realized with complete insight that they weren't really different at all, that they were alike, she and Peggy -female creatures of the flesh, seeking pleasure and excitement, seeking orgasm and masculine love-making . . . sensual women who couldn't control their desires, who had to have release. Yes, yes, it was only a matter of degree, not of kind . . . where Peggy loved no one but herself, she, Nora, loved deeply and completely her son, Mickey and . . . and yes, yes, she loved Ross too, she realized that now, not as deeply as she loved her son but it was love nevertheless, what they had had together two nights ago was too good to be a product of anything else . . . .
All these thoughts flashed disjointedly in the lovely blonde mother's mind, and as they did so the passion she felt leapt higher and higher now, becoming the ruling emotion within her. She turned her body hard into her son's hot, restless one, her mouth joining with his and bringing forth a low, almost inaudible cry of delight from deep in his throat. Her hand slipped down to rub at his virilely swollen young cock inside his trousers, and Mickey's fingers were fevered on his mother's breast and back as he filled her hotly receiving mouth with his tongue. Then he was sliding her blouse up, mindless with desire, and cupping and kneading her firm, resilient breasts as he had by the lake. Nora stroked his burgeoning penis, holding it so that she could slide it up and down her secreting pussy slit beneath her shorts, moaning around his wildly working tongue in her mouth.
Her son worked his hands between them, unzipped her shorts at the side, and pulled them down; her fevered fingers in turn opened his trousers, drew them and his underpants all the way down so that his thick, hard penis stood out in full, quivering erection from his loins. The lovely blonde mother grasped his swollen cock and guided it through her naked, wet, hair-fringed cuntal furrow, eliciting more moans of tremulous desire from his throat, his eyes bulging at this, his first glimpse of his mother's wonderful, hot cunt. Her eyes were open, too, staring past her son's shoulder as she played with him and kissed him, watching Ross still fucking long and hard and deep into Peggy's tightly clenched anal passage, while the black-haired girl mewled with increasing delight from his merciless assault.
Nora's free hand, and his own eager hands, finally succeeded in completely stripping both of them, until they stood there in the hallway in aroused and mesmeric excitement. She whispered hotly against his ear, "Oh Mickey, I want you, I want you to love me! I want to feel you inside me, soon, I want you to . . . to . . . fuck me!"
His mother's salacious wishes made Mickey's cock leap in her grasping moist palm, and his brain was a seething cauldron of abandoned desire. He wanted to fuck her, fuck his own mother, right here, right this very second! But . . . but he couldn't let Peggy and his Uncle Ross see them, he couldn't. . . Why not!
Why couldn't he let them see he and his mother fucking?
The thoughts sprang full-force through the heat haze in the teen-age youth's mind. Peggy and his uncle were in there, doing it, fucking, and he and his mother were watching them; why shouldn't they be made to watch he and his mother?
The idea of it was terribly, wickedly exciting to Mickey. Yes, he and his mom would do it in there, where Peggy and Uncle Ross could see them, right there on the same bed! A small portion of his brain tried to scream to him that this was wrong, wrong, but the tremendous excitement of his prickhead being rubbed up and down his lovely mother's trembling, naked cuntal slit, her hand caressing his cock and his swollen, throbbing balls, was all too consumingly powerful to deny. He had to have it this way . . . this new Mickey Hammond, this abandoned sensual youth who was in love with his own mother, had to have his way!
Without a moment's hesitation, Mickey guided his sensuously trembling mother through the doorway, into the bedroom. She came along willingly, excitedly, as if the idea had been in her mind, too, to spread her legs for her son where Ross, her last night's lover, and Peggy Reynolds, her son's girlfriend, could see them-and so the very idea of it had been in her mind! She knew what her son intended, welcomed it in the driving, all-enveloping heat of her churning passion. Together, they walked into the room, naked bodies touching, Nora's hot, soft hand encompassing her son's turgid, diamond-hard cock, moving toward the bed, stopping only a few feet from it, their passion-glazed features set and their eyes staring at the handsome older man and voluptuous teenage girl locked lewdly together in sodomy on the bed . . .
Peggy was the first to see them. She had her head turned to the side, her eyes open and staring as Ross rammed his thick hard cock brutally forward, far up into her bowels, and her own hips froze, her eyes widening with shock. Oh God! she thought in horror. Oh God no, it can't be Mickey, it can't be! He's caught me, caught me being fucked in the ass by his uncle . . . but. . . but, he's naked and . . . and his mother is with him, naked too . . . they're both naked and Mickey's cock is hard . . . I don't believe it, Mickey has been fucking his own mother! And , . . and he's going to fuck her again, right now, I can tell it by the look in their eyes, they're going to fuck watching his uncle and I. . . !
The realization was mind-numbing to the young black-haired girl, and with it came a new flooding tide of exhibitionistic passion rippling through her young body. Never had she experienced anything so exciting, so completely mind-blowing, as being fucked in the asshole by her boyfriend's uncle, while her boyfriend and his mother watched and fucked each other! Harder and harder, deeper and deeper, Ross' cock pumped into her hotly clenching little anal passage, and once again Peggy's lush, white buttocks churned back wildly, crazily, against the invading hardness . . .
Ross was slower to sense the presence in the bedroom of someone other than he and Peggy. But then, as he heard the girl gasp and buck her wide-split ass back against him with renewed frenzy, his eyes flickered open and his head swiveled around. And he saw them. He saw Mickey and Nora standing beside the bed, standing there naked, Nora's hand wrapped tightly around her son's swollen, blood-enraged cock, stroking it, while his fingers played with her firmly, ripely mature breasts . . . Ross saw them and he couldn't believe his eyes! It was not a true scene, it couldn't be, it was a nightmarish vision of his own private hell. His mouth gaped open, and his entire body grew rigid, his cock poised half pulled out of the eager teen-age girl's tightly constricting asshole, and he stared at the two people who meant most in his life, whom he loved . . . Nora, whom he loved and wanted to marry, Mickey whom he had raised the past year . . . standing there naked with his virile young cock rock-hard before him . . .
And then Ross Hammond knew that he wasn't hallucinating, that it was real, that Nora and Mickey were really there, playing with one another, nude, lovers, passion crazed for one another, son and mother, mother and son, the lust being added to by the sight of him fucking the teen-age little bitch that Mickey might marry on the bed right in front of them. Oh Jesus Christ, no, no, noooooo! This is . . . is wrong . . . they're watching me and they're . . . they're smiling, they're excited. Mickey is going to fuck his mother . . . oooohhhh, how long has this been going on, what caused it, what's happening . . . oohh, you bastard and you bitch, how dare you do such a thing, how dare you, how dare you . . .
Then, in that very instant, the monumentally bitter irony of the situation struck Ross with an almost physical impact. What right did he have to judge them, oh God what right indeed! Wasn't he here on the bed, sodomizing the lusting anus of young teen-age Peggy? How could he be any better than they when he had succumbed to his physical desires and coupled with this young slut yesterday and tonight? They were all the same, all of them, he and Peggy and Mickey and Nora . . . beautiful Nora . . . all the same, hedonists, unable to control the fires of the flesh, total slaves to their own overwhelming desires. They were what they were . . . not to be hated, condemned, pitied . . . they were lovers of the flesh, and as such entitled to their own pursuits, he realized that now, you are what you are . . .
Understanding and accepting all of this as irrefutable truth, the handsome and emancipated uncle once again resumed his driving thrusts into the sweating, tightly clenched anal crevice of Peggy Reynolds-and as he did so, his lips formed a brief, passion-tinged smile, a smile full of meaning and depth. The mute message was received by both Mickey and Nora, for they, too, knew what they were, and a bond was formed between the three of them in that moment, a bond of total commitment that what they were all doing now, or had done in the past, would do today and tomorrow, was all right by each . . .
Emitting a low moan of excitement, Mickey drew his naked mother onto the bed, their weight sagging the already creaking mattress as the teenage Peggy rolled and ground her hips greedily back against his uncle's forward-driving cock in her asshole. The handsome young youth and his lovely blonde mother began kissing feverishly as she played lovingly with his hardened cock, and then he knew that he couldn't wait any longer for her soft, warm pussy to sheath up around his penis, to know if he would satisfy her completely and totally with his fiery cum, to make her his, all his, tonight and forever . . .
Nora raised herself up and climbing on top of him, straddled her son's body, holding his upward-thrusting cock between the fingers of her right hand as she poised it up between her widespread thighs at the thin bearded mouth to her tight, hot pussy. Mickey's body was positioned in such a way that his knees were pressed up against the headboard of the bed now, his head and upper body pointing toward the door and placed on one side of his young girlfriend Peggy's wildly undulating form. Astride him, his beauteous mother faced across him and across the black-haired teenager to Ross' sweating, straining features. Staring hotly, lovingly, at her son's uncle, she inched herself downward slowly, parting the soft petal-like folds of her cunt with the massive head of her son's prick, filling the wet, hotly pulsating little opening completely witn it. She made soft mewling sounds of delight at the feel of his monstrously throbbing young hardness inside her for the first time, her son, the boy-man she loved, and Mickey echoed the moans, knowing his mother's cunt was the best he'd ever been inside, reveling in the smooth fleshy warmth of its wetly clasping walls around his entering penis, reveling in the fact that she was now his and nothing else in the world mattered.. .
Quickly, Nora sheathed the full length of her son's virilely trembling young cock with her warm, damp vagina, seemingly filling her whole belly with the hot hard expanse of the huge flaring head of her offspring. Her face was wildly contorted with lust, and as she rode up to bring all but the lust-swollen tip of his cock out of her pussy, her son slid his hands around under her arms and squeezed her large, sensuously quivering breasts. He levered up with his buttocks at the same time, sending his shaft soaring along the full length of the soft, hungrily clasping channel of his mother's cunt to pound hard up against her cervix. Nora cried out in pleasure-pain "Oooooh God, Mickey baby, your cock . . . your cock!" Then, using her knees as levers, she began to hungrily grind her cunt up and down his blood-engorged rod with increased abandon, climbing it almost to its uppermost point but never allowing the hugely bloated head to escape the soft, hair-fringed lips of her open pussy. She always levered back down rapaciously to impale herself again and again on the thick, heaving cock which sent wildly whirling pinwheels of delight racing through her stomach and loins and breasts, her own virile young son's wonderful, beautiful cock.. .
Directly in front of them, his own heat increased ten-fold by the sight of his nephew, Mickey, and his mother, Nora, fucking before his very eyes, Ross jammed his superbly expanded cock crazily into the wildly buffeting ass of the lovely teen-ager he was sodomizing, burying the huge shaft deep and hard and hot in her tightly clenched little rectum while he clawed mercilessly at her dancing breasts. Sweat rolled off both their bodies, commingling into one passion-heated liquid, flowing down between Peggy's straining young buttocks to mingle hotly with the juices of her cuntal passion below that Ross' testicles, slamming hard against her pussy lips on every heaving lunge, slapped into with a wet, sharp noise each time. The tingling heat in his loins became almost too much to bear as he fought desperately for his orgasm.
The wild fire in her cunt became too much for Peggy, and she moved her left hand down under her, along her heaving belly and across her saturated pubic mound to the trembling bud of her clit. She flicked her middle finger faster and faster over the tiny nub, feeling the spiraling heat of her climax approaching at a rapid pace as new waves of rising sensation from her own fingering rippled hotly through her. Faster and faster her finger rubbed her clitoris, faster and faster her hips churned against the moaning, panting Ross fucking deep and hard into her anus, faster and faster she could see Mickey's mother riding the swollen cock of her heavily panting young boyfriend. Suddenly, she wanted to kiss Mickey, she wanted her mouth on his as she came, as Ross came, as they all came. "Mickey!" she mewled. "Mickey, kiss me!" And then she was turning her head, finding Mickey's mouth with hers, her tongue flashing into his warm, hotly wet cavern, and they were both mewling crazily around one another's tongues.
Nora heaved herself with insane fury up and down the powerful rod filling her cunt, her hips undulating madly, frenetically, her right hand dipped down between her son's legs to fondle and caress his youthful sperm-filled balls as her hips slammed down hard against his loins in ever-increasing tempo. Mickey's fingers were hard and merciless on his mother's passion-swollen breasts, squeezing them painfully, thumb and forefinger tweaking the heavily throbbing nipples until she cried out helplessly with the delight of his manipulations. Oh God, oh God, Nora thought mesmerically, nothing has been like this in my life, nothing ever has been this good and exciting, this is the most wonderful moment I've ever known . . . ohhhh, I want to cum, I want to cum with my son's hot young cum pouring up into my pussy the same way it poured into my mouth tonight, I want to cum right now . . . oooohhh, look at Mickey and Peggy, they're kissing, oh God that's exciting . . . kissing, yes, I want to kiss Ross too, ohhh yes, I want to kiss Ross while we all cum together . . .
She leaned forward, never missing a beat of her nakedly heaving body, and moaned, "Kiss me, Ross, kiss me like Mickey and Peggy are kissing! Oh Ross, hurry and tongue fuck my mouth before we cum!"
A strangled mewl of delight swept from Ross' throat, and his mouth met Nora's with hot, wet abandon, their tongues swirling crazily like two cocks brushing against each other, and for long frozen moments the four of them on the swaying bed bucked and heaved against one another, mouths and body locked, straining with every fibre of their beings for orgasm. The only sounds were grunts and moans of delicious desire, heavy exertion, the wet slapping of naked flesh against naked flesh. It seemed as if the very world held its breath, waiting, waiting for the tremendous crashing climax of this inexplicably exciting tableau.
And then, suddenly, Ross stiffened, moaning into Nora's mouth, his hard, erect cock pulled almost free of Peggy's straining, clasping asshole, the thinly stretched skin pulled out almost grotesquely around the thick head, and then he fucked his hips forward with a powerfully brutal lunge. Peggy felt as if the huge shaft were rammed like a spit all the way through her body and up into her throat as he began to jerk convulsively behind her. A great, burning surge of hot, fiery semen flooded deep into her rectum as he continued to moan and tongue fuck into Nora's mouth in orgiastic ecstasy, the hot liquid filling the lovely teen-ager's belly, flooding her helplessly quivering bowels until she thought they would burst. And then Peggy's own climax struck, a wild intensely exciting release that exploded her juices simultaneously with the thick hot white sperm of her boyfriend's uncle, filling her with a raw sexual pleasure like she had never known before . . .
The sight of Ross and Peggy climaxing triggered Mickey's release, and he, too, mewled out his rapture into the black-haired teenager's gasping mouth. He heaved up to meet the pistoning down-strokes of his mother's tightly locked cunt, as the first white-hot jets of his exploding semen burst along the underside of his cock and filled his wonderful mother's tight, clasping pussy to overflowing. So intense was this explosion of his virile young cum into Nora that the boiling white liquid inundating her cervix and cuntal walls sent the lovely blonde mother over the brink of her own orgasm. "Oooooaaaaaahhhhhh!" she shrieked into Ross' mouth, sucking crazily on his tongue as if it, too, was an ejaculating cock, and her lewdly grinding buttocks flashed up and down over her son's magnificently expanded, jerking prick with insane movements of unbelievable bliss. Beautiful . . . her own private Valhalla . . . cumming by her own son's cock, cumming with his sperm shooting hot and deep into her quivering belly, his cum flowing out around his ejaculating prick and mixing with hers to make pools of glistening liquid on his belly and pubic hair and rapidly emptying testicles . . .
Moments later, totally spent, totally satiated with their mind-blowing mutual cumming, the four of them lay silently on the bed, touching one another's nakedness as if in thankfulness for the pleasure each had given. Nora lay lovingly in her son's arms, her hand resting lightly on his now flexuous cock; her other arm stroked, tenderly, Ross' equally flaccid member. And as her mind slowly returned to reality, Nora knew that this was truly the finest night of her life. She had everything she had ever wanted in the world now, and there would be no more loneliness, no more pain and sadness, for Nora Hammond in the coming years.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Early one Saturday morning the following fall, just before Mickey was due to enter State college to pursue his Engineering vocation, Nora lay drowsing in bed, reflecting back on the many things which had happened since that orgiastic summer night in Ross' bedroom. She felt warm and content, and her body ached pleasantly, for last night had been a mild repeat of that first night, a veritable orgy of delight and sensuality-though of course not as powerful nor as meaningful as that initial occasion.
Yes, many things had happened since then. First of all, she and Ross had gotten married three weeks afterward, in a simple ceremony at the local Justice of the Peace. Her presence in the Hammond household no longer caused raised eyebrows after that, and their neighbors had accepted them as a model community family, happy, close-knit.
Mickey was still going out with Peggy Reynolds -Nora had, after that first night in Ross' bedroom, found that the girl had a lot of redeeming qualities and had even grown somewhat fond of her, now that she had gotten to know her better . . . much, much better. Mickey and Peggy made a fine, handsome couple, and everyone thought that they might even get married one day. Nora knew better, though, for as much as she had grown to like Peggy, the lovely blonde mother could never have her as a daughter-in-law, could never share her love for Mickey with the kind of girl that Peggy was at heart. Mickey knew this and bowed to his mother's wishes, since he knew now that he wasn't really in love with Peggy; his relationship with the beauteous black-haired girl was strictly casual . . . and, of course, sexual, which was just the way Peggy wanted it as well.
Ross had had a phenomenal run of success in the New York magazine markets with his art work, and the money was pouring into the Hammond household in great quantities, enabling them to live in sheer luxury. They were even planning a trip, just the three of them, to the Far East next spring, and Ross was contemplating the purchase of a small yacht.. .
To all outward appearance, the Hammond home in Clayton Heights was one of traditional, old-fashioned, well-to-do "respectability" in the eyes of Summervale. If they only knew, Nora thought, stretching languidly, what went on in this bed, the prudish homebodies would really be shocked and appalled. If there was anything Nora had grown to hate, it was narrow-minded bigotry; an individual or a group of individuals had the right to pursue happiness and pleasure in any way they chose, and the world could go to hell if it didn't like it.. .
There was a soft knock on the door, and then it opened and Mickey came in. He was smiling teasingly, his long dark hair tousled, wearing a thin bathrobe. Nora, watching her handsome son with deep pride and love, knew that he was naked beneath it. She smiled lovingly at him as he crossed to the bed and sat beside her.
"Hi, honey," she greeted him.
"Hi, Mom," he replied. "How do you feel this morning?"
She winked at him. "Tired, but very, very good," she laughed.
He chuckled. "I thought you would."
"Where's your . . . father, honey? Where's Ross?"
"He'll be in in a minute," the handsome teen-age youth replied. "He's having a cup of coffee."
"Mmmmm," Nora yawned, stretching again, and the sheet covering her beautiful body fell away, revealing the full, rich splendor of her perfectly formed breasts. Mickey feasted his eyes on his mother's lovely tits, moistening his lips, then leaned forward and tenderly kissed first one nipple, then the other, running his tongue over each until they responded into hardened arousal.
"Mmmmmmmmm!" Nora said again, and her hand found his thigh, slid upward along its firm, muscled expanse until she located his cock, already hard with desire for her. She stroked it lovingly for a moment, then whispered huskily, her eyes lidding, "Take off your robe and get into bed, sweetheart."
"I thought you were tired," he teased.
"Not that tired, honey, not ever that tired!" fine, handsome couple, and everyone thought that they might even get married one day. Nora knew better, though, for as much as she had grown to like Peggy, the lovely blonde mother could never have her as a daughter-in-law, could never share her love for Mickey with the kind of girl that Peggy was at heart. Mickey knew this and bowed to his mother's wishes, since he knew now that he wasn't really in love with Peggy; his relationship with the beauteous black-haired girl was strictly casual . . . and, of course, sexual, which was just the way Peggy wanted it as well.
Ross had had a phenomenal run of success in the New York magazine markets with his art work, and the money was pouring into the Hammond household in great quantities, enabling them to live in sheer luxury. They were even planning a trip, just the three of them, to the Far East next spring, and Ross was contemplating the purchase of a small yacht.. .
To all outward appearance, the Hammond home in Clayton Heights was one of traditional, old-fashioned, well-to-do "respectability" in the eyes of Summervale. If they only knew, Nora thought, stretching languidly, what went on in this bed, the prudish homebodies would really be shocked and appalled. If there was anything Nora had grown to hate, it was narrow-minded bigotry; an individual or a group of individuals had the right to pursue happiness and pleasure in any way they chose, and the world could go to hell if it didn't like it.. .
There was a soft knock on the door, and then it opened and Mickey came in. He was smiling teasingly, his long dark hair tousled, wearing a thin bathrobe. Nora, watching her handsome son with deep pride and love, knew that he was naked beneath it. She smiled lovingly at him as he crossed to the bed and sat beside her.
"Hi, honey," she greeted him.
"Hi, Mom," he replied. "How do you feel this morning?"
She winked at him. "Tired, but very, very good," she laughed.
He chuckled. "I thought you would."
"Where's your . . . father, honey? Where's Ross?"
"He'll be in in a minute," the handsome teen-age youth replied. "He's having a cup of coffee."
"Mmmmm," Nora yawned, stretching again, and the sheet covering her beautiful body fell away, revealing the full, rich splendor of her perfectly formed breasts. Mickey feasted his eyes on his mother's lovely tits, moistening his lips, then leaned forward and tenderly kissed first one nipple, then the other, running his tongue over each until they responded into hardened arousal.
"Mmmmmmmmm!" Nora said again, and her hand found his thigh, slid upward along its firm, muscled expanse until she located his cock, already hard with desire for her. She stroked it lovingly for a moment, then whispered huskily, her eyes lidding, "Take off your robe and get into bed, sweetheart."
"I thought you were tired," he teased.
"Not that tired, honey, not ever that tired!"
"Okay," Mickey laughed, stood up, and let his robe fall to the floor. Then, his hard young cock jutting proudly from his loins, he pulled the sheet the rest of the way from his mother's lovely nakedness and lay down beside her.
"Know what I'm going to do now?" he whispered into her ear. "Know what I'm going to do until Ross comes in?"
"What?" she asked breathlessly.
"This!" And he slid down, down, along her beautiful body, his hands squeezing her breasts lightly, his lips traveling over the smooth flatness of her belly, down lower until he was breathing hotly into the soft blonde triangle of her pubic mound . . . lower still until his head was positioned directly between her voluntarily parted thighs. His long hard tongue slid out, licked over her clitoris, her suddenly swollen cunt lips, and then, slowly, rapturously, with deep love, he began to lick and suck hungrily at his mother's fiery hot pussy.
And as Nora wrapped her hands in his hair, reveling in the feel of her son's mouth and tongue working wetly down between her legs, the lovely blonde mother thought that, without a doubt, her world-the world she had discovered here when she had buried her past and come to Summervale once again to beg forgiveness-was the best of all possible worlds . . .
