Science has long recognized the delicate intricacies that arise in a mother-son relationship where the father is absent. The pitfalls for both parties have proven numerous.
A devoted mother will run the risk of sublimating her own needs out of a misdirected and uncontained "Love" for her male offspring, using him to fill the place of a man in her life. An over-zealous mother will shelter her son like a solicitous mother hen, or in her over-possessiveness she will refuse to allow him to develop normal relations with members of the opposite sex. An insecure boy will do everything he can to drive off prospective suitors for his mother's love. Or for the lack of a male influence in his life he will imitate his mother's mannerisms. Effeminacy and latent or active homosexuality may result. Either or both parties are inclined to have conscious or unconscious incestuous fantasies about the other.
In the following brilliant new novel by-----all the above possibilities exist. Jean Clayton widowed attractive mother of thirty-four, at the peak of her sexuality, and Stephan her fourteen-year-old son who looks very much like his slightly rakish father and is inclined to follow in his path, are the two central characters in this hard-hitting story of one boy's strange introduction to manhood and the opposite sex. Yet in spite of some sordid aspects of the story, it is in the end a love story of another kind, an initiation story in a modernized version of the Hemingway Nick Adam's tradition, a saga of temptation and struggle, defiance and final purgation as this young man and his mother, victims themselves of a great American tragedy, learn to live with themselves and with what they have done.
In a skillful manner,-----writes with penetrating insight of the delicate workings of a single human relationship. We, the publishers, feel sure that this intensely moving study of one aspect of contemporary society will be a welcome addition to the library of the mature adult reader.
-The Publishers
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Archive Note: In the preceding introduction, you may have noticed places where the author's name would logically have been inserted into the text. This text file faithfully recreates the dashes which the publisher inserted instead. The actual pocketbook has nothing to indicate why the name was not used.
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CHAPTER I
Jean Clayton had never had a consciously salacious sexual thought about her son Stephan until her friend Adele put the idea into her head.
The two next-door neighbors were lounging in the lawn chairs in Adele's backyard. The afternoon California sun burned gently over their tanned, bikini-clad bodies. Adele, a voluptuous but not yet plump blonde of thirty-two, had lowered the straps off her shoulders and folded her bikini top downward so it lay thin and flimsy as a scarf just over the nipple-peaked tips of her full and high-thrust breasts. Jean, a willowy brunette who could have passed for twenty-eight though she was nearly thirty-five, had turned her face to the sun and closed her eyes. Almost asleep, she looked serene as a slumbering princess. Her tanned, softly exposed flesh shone with a glistening coating of feminine perspiration. A gentle breeze made it comfortable even in the burning sun.
"There comes your son," Adele murmured, snapping the young widowed mother from a wistful reverie. "I don't know if you've noticed, but little Stevie is turning into a man this summer."
Jean opened her eyes and sat up straight. Her son Stephan had come out of the back door of their house and was walking across the yard toward the fence. And as he walked toward them, she reflected how astute her friend's remark had been. Steve was fourteen and a half, but he was already almost as tall as Jean. And though he still wore an expression of childish innocence, his face had lost its baby fat to reveal an almost mature and handsome structure. Youthful muscles rippled beneath the tight-fitting white T-shirt he wore. Manhood had descended upon him in the last few months, it seemed as though in a twinkling. And he was almost a replica of his father.
"Hello Mom. Adele," Stephan said brightly as he reached the picket fence that separated the two yards.
Almost in one voice, the two women greeted the boy. He looked at his mother, then at Adele, then turned back to his mother again. The smile that had adorned his lips faded momentarily to seriousness and in his clear blue eyes Jean detected a look of concentration, of awareness, intense, somehow stark and raw. Then he blushed and the smile came back.
"I'm going down to the pool with Bill," Steve said. "On his bike. If it's all right with you I'll just grab a hamburger or something for supper."
Low and far away at first, growing steadily closer and louder, a motor-bike was heard.
"All right, Steve. Have a good time," Jean said, not bothering to ask herself if she really meant it. "You have money?" It was a half-question.
"A couple of bucks. I'm all right."
Now Jean heard the bike turning onto their street. The roar of the motor would build to a pitch, almost break off as the gears were changed, and build again to a pitch.
"I've got to get going," Steve said. "That's Bill there."
The bike was pulling to a stop in front of the house. Steve was looking at Adele. Out of the corner of her eye' Jean noted that the flimsy bikini halter hung even more precariously than before just on the tips of her full, swollen breasts which were arched into evident prominence by the upraised position of her arms, jutting up over her head so that her hands were clasped behind her neck as though she were intentionally flaunting herself.
Steve looked back briefly, again with loving innocence, at his mother. Then he turned and started toward the house.
"Tell Bill not to drive fast," she said. "And don't stay out late. I'll expect you by eleven."
"Eleven or twelve," Steve called back. Then he was gone inside the house.
For a moment Jean stared thoughtfully and silently at the door through which he'd disappeared. Then she reclined back in the lawn chair and sighed, her eyes narrowing as she gazed down at the ripely revealed swells of her own richly tanned breasts, straining out against the constricting little bikini halter.
"I think I'm going to start laying down the law. He's spending too much time out at night with those older kids."
"They're not that much older," said Adele. "Bill's only sixteen."
"But he's too wild on that bike ... for one thing."
"Jean."
Jean turned to peer over at her sexy blonde friend, now looking at her pensively and intently, as though she could see through her. "Yes?"
"I saw the way you were looking at him."
Jean sat up, color rushing to her face. "What are you talking about?"
"You know what I'm talking about. How long has it been since you've had a man?"
"I broke off with Ed last October. So ... eight months. What's that got to do with anything?"
"You're a woman. You need love and you need sex. You're living under the same roof with a man. Even if he is your own son."
The wave of anger passed like a wind through her body, and left her trembling and flushed. "Are you out of your mind? I love Steve, but I wasn't looking at him like that."
"It's nothing to be ashamed of. I was reading about it-what's the name for that syndrome?-just the other day."
"Syndrome?" Jean stood up suddenly, glaring down at the other woman. "I saw the way you were looking at him. And showing off your tits like..."
She couldn't think of the simile that fit. Flustered angry, slightly confused, she turned and walked to the gate, and, crossing her yard, stalked into the house, all without so much as a backward glance. Her tall sensuous body still trembling, she strode hurriedly down the hall past the door to Steve's bedroom and through the doorway to her own. Slamming the door, she flopped face down on the bed. After a moment she rolled onto her back, her breasts rising and falling vividly with her hoarsely strained breathing. She glanced toward the nightstand for the clock and met instead the framed photograph of her husband in his blue Air
Force uniform, a haunting, slightly cocky smile on his face, a glint in his eyes that looked so real and bright she almost dreamed for a moment that he would jump out of the frame and be standing there alive again before her.
Then she shook her head, stifling a little sob. For a minute, she was twenty-five again. It was June 13, 1965. She had seen Tom for the last time on that day. When she had seen the handsome Air Force captain at the door and looked into his eyes, she had a terrible premonition.
It was only Tom's second mission. He got hit just above the DMZ, she would later learn. Now all these years later the war was finally over. Tom was just a statistic, a number insignificant if you looked at the whole. And the whole now seemed so pointless, so terribly disastrous, futile as the empty affairs she'd had with the other men she'd known since her husband's death. The loss to mankind seemed as great, but no greater, than the loss to her of Tom.
Her thoughts turned to the memory of Stephan standing at the fence looking at her and Adele. The thing that had bothered her, during that instant before his face had reddened and his almost bashful smile came back, was that she'd had the disturbing feeling he was comparing them, comparing their two nearly naked bodies. And he'd done so, she thought, out of something more than innocent curiosity.
And he looked so much, now, like Tom. And Adele had had an affair, years ago, with Tom.
CHAPTER 2
Stephan's cute young face materialized gradually out of the fog. He walked or floated toward her, smiling cockily as his father always smiled, his father's hat sitting just slightly sideways on his head the way Tom always wore it, that familiar daring glint in his eyes. She lay naked against a wall. She was trying to get up but for some reason she couldn't move, and though he was moving toward her almost at a run, it seemed he was getting no closer. Then she heard the voice: "Stephan.
Come here Stephan. I want to show you something." The voice was Adele's, low and seductive. "Look Stevie. Look at my breasts. Look at my breasts. Look at my..." Her voice echoed, fading slowly away. Stephan had disappeared from her sight.
Jean awoke and sat up blinking. The light blanket that had covered her slid to the floor. She looked around, confused. It took a moment to orient herself in time.
She had fallen asleep on her bed, still dressed in her skimpy bikini. It was not the morning of another day, as she would at first have expected it to be, but late in the night. She looked toward the nightstand, first at her husband's picture, then at the clock. It was five minutes till one. She remembered the dream, almost a nightmare, in hazy little sketches. Then she remembered that Stephan wasn't at home.
Beset by a sudden overwhelming anxiety, the sensuous brunette widow dropped her feet off the bed to the floor and stood up. Her eyes found her reflection in the three-quarter-length mirror on the dresser against the opposite wall, and she let her gaze descend slowly down the soft curves of her tall shapely body. Then her eyes returned to their own reflection. She stared into them staring back at her from the mirror, wild and vengeful, almost hysterical.
At last she turned away. She walked to the door and went out, down the hall to the den. The house was silent, almost dark. Its emptiness seemed oppressive and though it was a warm summer night she folded her arms protectively over her barely covered full breasts as though she had a chill.
Reaching the den, she crossed over to the window and peered out past the curtain onto the dark, deserted street. Through her mind raced a series of jumbled images, blending and blurring together. There was a cracked-up motor-bike, an ambulance with a screaming siren. When she forced that picture from her mind it was replaced by another she found almost equally disturbing. Stephan was in an old house some place with a bunch of older kids who had sick-looking faces and hollow eyes. Someone melted something in a spoon. Another of them drew it up into a syringe. She shook her head and blinked. She wondered if Stephan might be with a girl, a girl friend, a secret love whom he'd never mentioned to his mother-or just with any girl, some girl who hung around with the crowd of bikers he'd recently made his friends, a young runaway who gave herself to anyone who wanted her....
"Mom?"
Jean started, a gasp rising vocally in her throat. Turning, she saw her young son standing sleepy-eyed in his pajamas in the doorway.
"Stevie!" Jean almost sobbed, feeling a flood of relief and gratitude welling in her breast. "When did you get home? I didn't hear you come in."
"Eleven-thirty."
"But you must have slipped in?"
"You were asleep. I put the blanket over you."
Of course, she thought. The blanket. She should have realized that when she'd awakened, because she hadn't remembered covering herself with it. Then, overcome with her love and tenderness for her young son, Jean rushed forward.
Slightly surprised by his mother's show of affection, Stephan felt her long soft arms go around his face and neck, felt his body being pulled to her bosom. His face was engulfed in her caress, his nose buried forcibly in the voluptuous deep valley between her full soft breasts, and in spite of his slight feeling of embarrassment, he couldn't deny his awareness of his mother's physical sexual beauty. Her breasts crushed against his face through the thin material of her bikini halter, and he was equally conscious of the soft invitation of her firm, naked thighs pressed against his own.
Jean had almost forgotten herself in her joy to find that Stephan was home, and she whispered his name over and over in abandon as she held him in her caressing embrace. The light shivers of delight that darted spontaneously up her spine, the tingling she felt in the sensitive tips of her nipples, caught her by surprise. The sound of her strained breathing only gradually pervaded her hyped consciousness. Adele's remark, which had so angered her earlier in the day, came back to her like a prophecy. Then starkly the realization came over her, it's impact like a blow to the head;
She was deriving a sexual stimulation from physical contact with her own son!
Her face flushed suddenly red as Jean dropped her arms, and releasing Stephan from her embrace, he took a quick step backward.
"I'm ... I'm sorry, Stephan. I'd had a bad dream and when I woke up, not knowing you were home, I had the most awful feeling that something had happened to you, and I was so glad to find you home I just ... forgot what I was doing." She bit her lip. "I guess you're getting a little too old for that sort of ... contact."
As if in confirmation of what she'd said, the bulging little erection that tented up the crotch of his pajamas caught her attention and impressed itself with shocking significance on her state of disturbed awareness. But the evidence was there before her eyes. Stephan had also derived a sexual excitement from their embrace!
That realization was almost more than the sex-starved young mother could cope with and as she jerked her gaze forcibly away from the shocking sight, her face turned an even deeper crimson.
"You'd ... you'd better run on back to bed," Jean said as authoritatively as she could. Mustering her courage, she forced herself to look back at her son and noted that he'd made no move to do her bidding. He stood where he was, looking with embarrassed awareness back at her. He held his hands clasped together before his lower abdomen, as though to hide the tell-tale little erection from her gaze. "Now go on," she added more softly.
Steve turned abruptly away. "Good night, Mom," he said nervously over his shoulder, as he walked out the door and down the hall.
Jean watched him all the way to his bedroom door. As he entered he glanced sheepishly and momentarily back in her direction. Then she turned away, reaching up with both her hands to push her long dark hair back from the sides of her face, sighing deeply as she did so. Her heart was still pounding frantically in her breast, her breathing, still slightly strained. There was a nervous fluttering in her stomach, and it seemed she was more conscious now than she had been for months of the gnawing unfulfillment of her life and of her womanly needs.
Adele had been right. She did need a man. She was a woman and she needed a man, to love and make love to. She didn't have one, and though gone along pretending that it didn't matter, it was apparent to her now that her need showed to others. She'd revealed it to Adele this afternoon. Tonight she'd revealed it to herself. And worse, she feared, she'd revealed it to her innocent young son.
"Damn it," Jean muttered uncharacteristically under her breath, staring gloomily around the room.
But there was no escaping the knowledge the events of this afternoon and tonight had brought her. Something very horrifying had happened a few moments ago when she'd taken Stephan in her arms. Looking back, she was forced to admit that almost the same thing had happened on more than one occasion before. Since she'd broken up with Ed Barton, the last man she'd dated regularly and had been to bed with, she had unconsciously allowed her son to become a substitute for a masculine companion in her life. It was a role he had filled during other periods during the last ten years, most notably during that first unbearable year of misery just after Tom had been killed. But when she had lost Tom, Stephan was only four years old. It was normal, even wholesome, that she should bestow on him the love that she would ordinarily have reserved for her husband, that she would let him fill the gap her husband's loss had left in her life. Now the situation was different ... and more dangerous.
"I'll just have to do something," Jean vowed in a whisper. Then she walked quickly across the den and through to the kitchen. She retrieved the whiskey bottle she kept in the cabinet for occasions just such as this, and poured herself a stiff shot of Scotch. Adding a single cube of ice, she drank it down quickly. She resisted the urge to have another, and resolutely replaced the bottle in the cabinet. As she walked back down the hall to her bedroom, Jean told herself that tomorrow she would give Ed Barton a call, just to see how he was doing. It had been her decision, against his wishes, to break off their affair. Maybe he would be interested in seeing her again.
By the time she stepped into her bedroom and closed the door, Jean was feeling the full effects of the strong shot of alcohol. She experienced a light-headedness, a perceptible rush of energy, a stimulated alertness that defied the fact that it was almost two o'clock in the morning. But the drink had done nothing to dull her nerves, and as she faced herself in the dresser mirror and reached up behind her back to loosen the snap of her bikini halter, she was acutely aware of the gnawing tingle of need coursing through her breasts and loins. It seemed that, having faced the very un-naturalness of her response to the motherly embrace she's bestowed on her young son, she had only intensified its effect on her instead of lessening it.
Still watching her reflection, Jean quickly shed the skimpy bikini halter, leaving exposed, her full rounded breasts jutting out jauntily, in the dim light. A sultry look came over her face, and she lifted her hands to run them through her silken-dark hair, seductively arching the voluptuous swells of her breasts.
She reached down, giving a subtle wriggle of her hips, to let her bikini panties drop slowly down her slender thighs to her ankles, leaving her voluptuous body completely naked before her appraising eyes.
Jean stared silently at herself in the mirror, her eyes roving slowly over her naked torso and the proudly upstanding mounds of her breasts peaked by the swollen, almost mauve-colored buds of her tingling little nipples. She made a brief mental comparison of her own body with Adele's, her warped and unwanted excitement only increasing as she remembered the way her son Stephan had compared the two of them in the afternoon when he'd seen them sunbathing together in their skimpy little bikinis. Then her expression clouded as that thought reminded her of another comparison that inevitably had been made, long ago, by the man her son so strongly resembled. That time, she told herself with dizzy conviction, she had won. Tom had had his little fling with her friend. He had come back to her and proposed marriage. She had graciously forgiven Adele for doing something that should have ended their friendship. Over the years, her bitterness had almost disappeared. Adele had married Pete. And as if to vindicate her own integrity, Jean had refused him decisively the one time he'd gotten drunk at a party and made a pass at her.
But what had happened between Adele and Tom would probably never be completely erased from her consciousness, Jean told herself as she sighed and let her gaze descend lower down the sensuously inviting curves of her naked flesh. Her dark eyes seemed to burn over the smooth sleek plane of her belly and the dark little hole of her navel, down to the shadowy triangle of her soft pubic hair nestled so invitingly between her thighs. She wondered absently, almost unconsciously, what would happen inside her son's pajamas if he could see her like this. Then, grasping the obscene implication of that thought, she turned abruptly away.
Stark naked, Jean walked to the bed and pulled back the covers. She slipped between the sheets and flicked off the light, lying almost panting on her back, her kindled desire raging now almost completely out of control. She was breathing deeply and audibly. Her eyes were open and she was wide awake; sleep would be a long time in coming tonight.
She lay like that, staring up into the darkness, for what seemed almost an eternity. Then at last she sat up, letting the covers fall from her naked torso, and flicked on the light. To her surprise not more than fifteen minutes had passed since she'd gotten into bed.
Frustrated by the troubling thoughts that nagged at her mind, Jean slid out of bed and walked to the closet. She pulled a silk housecoat over her shoulders and tied the sash loosely at the waist. Hoping a hot bath might relax her sufficiently that she could sleep, the still sensuously aroused young mother stepped out the door and started toward the next door along the hall. Just before going in she paused, looking at the crack of darkness before the closed door to Stephan's room. At least he's asleep, she told herself. Then she stepped into the bathroom, closing and latching the door behind her.
Jean started the hot water running full blast into the tub, adding just a trickle of cold, and waited for it to fill. After a few moments she undid the sash at her waist and shed the housecoat from her shoulders, her nipples instantly tingling to rigidity from their teasing contact with the air. Then she ran her hands sensuously down over the ripe half-moons of her buttocks, her fingertips barely brushing the forbidden vee of soft black hair between her thighs. She lowered first one foot and then the other into the caressing warmth of the water.
The contrast of temperature caused Jean's richly tanned flesh to prickle with goose bumps and her nipples swelled even more rigidly erect as she settled down into the tub. She sucked in her breath audibly as she felt the hot water laving the tingling tips of her breasts. Then she reclined back until all but her face was submerged, and she lay still, prone beneath the water in a posture of relaxation and surrender, staring silently at the ceiling.
But in fact she was anything but relaxed. The tension in her naked body was almost unbearable and the sensation of the warm caress of the water over the curves of her quivering flesh only seemed to heighten her awareness of her unwanted sexual need. Adele's remark about the way she was looking at her son seemed to have started a chain reaction in her consciousness leading uncontrollably to this physical, burning need which she now felt in her love-starved loins.
Barely even aware of what she was doing, Jean trailed her hands lightly up her belly beneath the water, cupping her palms gently over the firm round mounds of her submerged breasts. She squeezed and caressed them gently, the splashing of the water over the soft buds of her nipples only intensifying the delight she derived from her own illicit touch. Then, leaving one hand on her breasts, the naked brunette let her other hand trail back downward, her fingers dancing over her naked belly beneath the warm water. The contact of her own hand on her satiny sensitive flesh was like an electric-shock of unfulfilled desire, and as she traced around the outline of her navel, letting her fingers linger there on that tiny but sensitive aperture, she felt the desire and longing in her unsatisfied loins growing swiftly even more intense.
Then at last she dared reach lower, her hand venturing straight down into the soft dark curls of her silken black pubic hair, down, down, between her sensuously wide-parted thighs.
Jean drew in a deep quivering breath as her fingertips played along one of the straining tendons of her soft inner thighs before drawing back up toward the quivering lips of her yearning pussy. She didn't think she'd felt like this in months. It was as if her body had lain dormant since her break-up with Ed and now suddenly had come back to life. All her naked being was crying out with unfulfilled need, and as she slowly parted the blood-filled lips of her tingling vagina with her fingers, she felt as if she could scream from the sheer raw sensation of the warm bath water lapping up into the sensitive inner recesses of her welcoming cunt.
Now the wantonly aroused young widow was approaching a dream-like state of consciousness. Her thoughts fluttered back and forth, from memories of her husband to unbidden thoughts of her young son, and even her guilt over her sinful impulses seemed only to heighten her unbridled desire. Abandoning herself almost completely to her burning lust, the dark-haired young mother extended the middle finger of her right hand and directed it straight up between her thighs, brushing against the palpitating lips of her ravenous cunt. She still had no real conception what she expected to obtain from her salacious self-caress. What she was doing now just seemed to come naturally, as if completely out of her control, and she moaned as a scintillating stream of sensation coursed up her spine from the contact of her outstretched finger as it rubbed lightly over the lust-swollen bud of her tingling clitoris.
Then she let her probing finger slide lower, caressingly digging deep into the sparsely hair-lined furrow of her smoldering cunt. She moved her other hand quickly down from her breasts, spreading her glistening pussy-lips to let her extended finger work slowly up into the warmly lubricated depths of her inner sheath, the feminine sex-fluids of her aroused young body flowine freely to mix with the hot water in which she was immersed.
Jean grunted from the raw and quivering stab of sensation as her impaling finger burrowed relentlessly deeper up into her secret loins. Then she sighed as the tight elastic opening parted, and the walls of her welcoming pussy grasped eagerly as if to suck the plundering digit all the way up into her belly. Her soft inner flesh closed tightly around the smoothly penetrating intruder and she caught her breath as the fantastic sensations rippled insistently throughout her now gently writhing body. Her nerves were electrically charged, all her senses heightened, her flesh greedily demanding to be caressed more and more forcefully.
A stream of moans and whimpers issued from the bathing young woman's throat as she began to masturbate in earnest, drawing her hand up and down to pull her finger in an obscenely fucking motion in and out between her lust-tortured loins. The water splashed in a loud sucking rhythm, and her own whimpers sounded like sobs of despair. She forgot her secret reason for committing this obscene act, as she rose toward a peak of illicit excitement and desire, her naked body bouncing and tossing, as she arched her ass-cheeks almost completely out of the water when the first waves of release began to build deep up inside her frenziedly writhing loins.
Then her eyes opened wide and her face went white as she heard the hesitant tapping at the door.
"Mother?"
It was Stephan!
"Mother? Are you all right? Let me in!"
Jean felt a wave of terror surge over her, as her own sobs of obscene delight seemed to echo screamingly in her ears. She abruptly jerked her hand out from beneath the water, and her body sagged in shame and exhaustion down against the bottom of the tub. She heard her young son turn the knob of the door, banging harder against it when he found it locked.
"Mother!"
"It's all right, Steve," Jean gasped in a quavering voice. "It's all right. I'm ... taking a bath. I just couldn't sleep."
"I heard ... I heard you crying."
Thank God, she thought. He didn't know. He hadn't recognized her lustful sobs and moans for what they really were.
"Yes, honey. I was ... crying. Go back to bed now. I'm going to get out of the tub and go to bed too."
"But ... "
"Go on. Go to bed. It's all right."
After a moment she heard his footsteps shuffling away down the hall. She climbed from the tub, dried off hastily and pulled the robe back on. As she tiptoed back to her own room, she saw that now his door was open.
She had not really been crying before, not in the ordinary sense of the word. But now she was.
CHAPTER 3
Jean hardly dared face Stephan the next morning. She awoke after a fitful sleep to gradual remembrance of what had happened the night before. She had actually been masturbating right here in the same house as her fourteen-year-old son, and her self-loathing at the memory of having been caught in that shameful practice brought tears to her eyes. Her only faint consolation was the fact that Stephan at least had been unaware of exactly what she'd been doing behind the bathroom's locked door. He didn't really know she had been masturbating. Or did he?
The question popped unbidden into Jean's mind, and it was followed by a flood of disturbing doubts. She remembered him saying he'd heard her crying, but now she wondered if he was just being tactful. She reminded herself that Steve himself was right at the age where boys were prone to experiment with masturbation, and she was hardly encouraged by the thought. If Stephan was in the habit of masturbating, he would probably be even more prone to conclude from the sounds he'd doubtless heard that his mother was doing the same thing. Then momentarily she forgot the whole aspect of the question as her mind zeroed in on this latest conclusion, and she found herself picturing Stephan masturbating.
Something about the image seemed almost impossible to even believe. The vision was impossible to conjure in her mind. Not her lovely little Stevie! He couldn't do an obscene thing like that!
But he could, she told herself firmly. He could. Doubtlessly he did, periodically at least. He was just completing puberty. Physically he was a man, equipped for all the things a man could do. Physically he was even capable of fatherhood, and it was inevitable he would seek an outlet for his sexual impulses. And the impulses were there. She'd seen, and felt against the softness of her thighs, the evidence of that.
"Oooh," Jean moaned softly, her eyes almost closing as she lay back on her pillow, letting herself remember the exquisitely tantalizing sight of the outthrust contours of her own young son's rigidly erected cock prodding out against the front of his pajamas just after she'd let him slip from her embrace. Steve's illicit excitement must have been almost as great as her own.
For a few moments Jean let herself bask in the pleasure of a deliriously forbidden fantasy. She let herself imagine that what had happened was not wrong. She had held Steve in her arms. He had snuggled his face between her breasts. She had derived enjoyment from the act. He had too. They could do it again. Then gradually she drifted back to reality, back to the present, back to the awful point of horrified shame and regret into which she'd awakened from her slumber.
There was still no escaping the fact that Stephan had listened outside the bathroom door while she was masturbating in the tub. And even if his initial reason for knocking was only concern for her, he must later have put two and two together. At least, he must suspect what she was really doing.
It was with a sense of resignation that Jean finally got out of bed and dressed. She put on a sleeveless pink sweater and some tight-fitting pants, stepped into her sandals and walked out of her room. Passing the door of Steve's room, she was surprised to see him still in his pajamas in bed, propped up against the wall, staring out at her.
"You're not up yet?" she said, pausing in the door, feeling somewhat foolish as she realized the obviousness of her question.
Steve looked back at her with a kind of sheepishness, the source of which she couldn't immediately fathom. But though she was sure his eyes focused once on the voluptuous swells of her breasts pushing out against the tightly stretched front of her sweater, he seemed reluctant to look directly into her eyes. At last he muttered a feeble: "No." He looked away, down at the floor.
There was a tense silence. Jean remembered she'd decided to get in contact with Ed Barton today and see if there was any chance they might start seeing each other again. It seemed the least interesting thing she could think of now. She could never feel for Ed that magic something she'd felt for Tom. She could never be as excited by Ed as she'd been excited last night in that brief improper moment of physical contact with her own teenaged son. But she had to do something, had to make some kind of change in her life.
"I'll fix you a big breakfast if you like," Jean said to break the silence. "Some pancakes and country sausage."
"Yeah, sure," Steve replied, remaining where he sat on the bed.
Jean managed a feeble smile and turned away. She was stopped by his hesitant voice calling. "Mother?"
When she looked back she saw that his handsome young face was deeply troubled. She felt such a rush of compassion, compounded by her own feelings of guilt for having caused him to be troubled, that it required every bit of her self-control to keep her from rushing to him and taking him again into her loving arms in exactly the same way she'd reached out and held him the day before.
But somehow she restrained herself. She stopped just inside the room and stood looking tenderly down at her son. "What is it, Stephan?"
He blushed. "Last night when you were in the bathroom? What was it you were crying about?"
Jean's heartbeat quickened perceptibly, and she was aware of the visible rise and fall of her full swollen breasts with the hastened rate of her breathing. Was this a third degree? Or did it only confirm the fact that Stephan did not know what she'd been doing in the bathroom, did not even suspect her of the shameful act of masturbation?
"I was crying about ... your father," she lied at last, though in an ironic way it was almost true. "I ... I got to thinking about him, looking at his picture..." Jean let her voice trail off. Now Steve was looking up at her. On his face was an expression of hope or relief. "I couldn't sleep," she went on, perhaps unnecessarily. "I thought a hot bath might help me to sleep and then somehow I just broke down." She took a step forward toward the bed. "But it's all right now. Don't worry about me, honey."
Stephan was almost beaming up at her and Jean felt so light on her toes she could have almost leaped toward him. She could feel a tingling in the tips of her fingers, and as she looked down at him, the love and emotion welling up in her was almost enough to make her burst into tears once more. She was on the verge of rushing forward to him. Then she stopped herself and drew back.
"I'll leave you alone to get dressed now. Your breakfast will be ready in a jiffy," she said, noting the slight look of disappointment on her young son's face as she turned and went quickly out the door.
Stephan came into the kitchen just as she was flipping the last of the pancakes she'd made for him. She put the plate on the table before him and smiled with pride. But he didn't immediately start to eat.
"What's the matter Stephan?" she asked after a moment.
"I thought...," he began, his voice faltering as his face again flushed. "I thought you were crying because of something I'd done."
"Stephan!" Jean stepped forward and put her hand lightly on the teenaged boy's shoulder, acutely aware of his strong masculine muscles as she felt his body tense beneath her touch. "What on earth could you have done to make me cry, honey?"
"You know," he muttered ruefully.
"No Steve. Really, I don't."
"It was an accident," Stephan said. "I didn't even realize it until it was already there, and then there was nothing I could do to make it go away. And I guess you think I'm some kind of fiend or freak or something."
"Make what go away?" Jean gasped, completely confused by everything her son had said.
"My hard-on," Steve said glumly.
Jean felt as if she'd been hit on the head with a baseball bat. Her legs went weak at the knees and it seemed as if the floor beneath her feet turned to quicksand. Her head reeled with a confusion of contrasting images. She felt embarrassed and completely speechless, but at the same time her loving sympathy for her son in his moment of discomfort brought tears to her eyes. And to complicate these natural human concerns, the image his remark brought to her mind caused a sudden unwanted excitement to stir in her loins that made her want to cry out with lust.
The young, dark-haired mother didn't even know how long she stood there, wavering on her feet, tongue-tied in her own tormenting confusion. Then at last she pulled herself back together and somehow found her voice. She moved her hand up Steve's shoulder to his neck, then under his chin to tilt his shameful face up towards hers.
"Now," she said weakly, "Listen to me, Stephan. What happened last night was not ... your fault. It was mine. I was ... overdoing my own ... motherly ... well, you know. Your response was natural and physical and it is nothing to be ashamed of. It's just...."
"Just what?" Stephan prompted.
"Sometimes a mother will tend not to realize how rapidly her son is growing up. Maybe it's an unconscious attempt to deny the fact of her own aging, or maybe it's just that time, the years I mean, go by so fast when you get my age. But you are becoming a man ... and we have to keep that in mind. I mean, we just have to be more careful about that kind of physical contact."
"You mean we have to quit touching each other?"
Oh my God, Jean thought in exasperation to herself. How did I ever get into this? "No, I don't mean we have to quit touching. It's just that we have to be careful how we do it." She stopped, at a loss for words or for the will to go on.. "Eat your breakfast, Stephan. It's getting cold and I have a phone call to make."
Leaving the youngster far from satisfied, Jean withdrew from the kitchen and went into the den and sat down on the couch to use the phone. She supposed she should be thankful that her worst fear had been alleviated. It was obvious Steve didn't have the slightest suspicion she'd been masturbating last night in her bath. But she doubted if the boy could even imagine the psychological complications created for her by what he said, or if he could grasp the Freudian symbolism behind almost every statement that had been uttered during their little exchange. But at least this had impressed on her mind the fact that she had to act to find a distraction for herself before something really terrible happened between her and her own son. Resolved, Jean picked up the phone and dialed Ed Barton at the law office where he was employed as a junior partner. The numbers seemed to come automatically to her fingers, though she'd hardly thought of him since the end of last year.
A honey-voiced secretary rattled off a list of expensive sounding names and tagged Barton on the end. "I'd like to speak to Mr. Barton," Jean said when she'd finished.
"Whom may I say is calling please?"
"Jean ... Jean Clayton."
She was left alone on the line for a moment, then there was the sound of the extension phone being lifted and Ed's familiar, long-lost-sounding voice came excitedly to her ears:
"Jean? Jean, is that you? Really?"
"Of course it's me," she answered dryly. Ed's enthusiasm had been evident and for some reason it tended to turn her off. But then her reason for calling hadn't been to seek a turn-on. She just had to have a diversion, any diversion, and Ed was the first person she'd thought of looking to.
"Well, what's happening with you, kid? It's been so long. I didn't think I'd ever hear from you again. Is there something wrong? You need help?"
"No. it's nothing like that." Now that she had Ed on the phone, she didn't really know what to say. "I just..."
"Yeah."
"A lot can happen in eight months, Ed. A lot of things can change. I just thought ... maybe for old times' sake if nothing else ... I thought we could see each other again. I mean, if you haven't gotten deeply involved or engaged or ... married or something."
"Gosh no! I mean, not engaged or married anyway. There are a couple of ... oh, forget it. Sure, I'd love to see you Jean. I'd love to, any time. I never have quit thinking about you."
"I think ... about you," Jean said.
"Well when? When is convenient for you?"
"Tonight?"
They arranged to meet at a restaurant at nine. When she hung up Jean was surprised to see Steve standing in the door, looking at her with something between surprise and disappointment.
"You called him?" the boy blurted. "You're going out with him tonight?"
For some reason Jean was embarrassed. She didn't have any idea how much of the conversation
Steve had heard. "I just wanted to do something different," she explained. "Ed is an old friend now. We're just going out for dinner."
"Oh," Steve said, looking dejected.
Jean stood up and walked toward him, then stopped herself halfway to the door. "What's the matter, honey? I thought you'd be out with your friends. I'm tired of sitting here at home alone."
"We were going for a ride today," he said. "But they've got dates tonight. So there's no room for me on the bike. And anyway, they don't need me when they've all got girls with them. I figured I'd spend the evening here and watch television with you or something. like we always did before."
"Oh Steve. I'm sorry."
"Never mind. It's all right."
Before Jean could say anything else he turned and hurried away down the hall. She heard the front door slam as he went out. Thoughtfully she looked back at the phone. For just an instant she thought of calling Ed back and breaking the date she'd herself just made. Then she rejected the idea offhand. It wouldn't be fair to Ed. And besides, she didn't trust herself, tonight, to spend the whole evening here alone with Steve.
CHAPTER 4
Ed Barton lived in a modern, semi-luxurious three-room apartment in a new high rise on the north edge of town. It was Jean who suggested, abruptly after they'd finished their post-dinner coffees and cognacs, that they go there.
The determined brunette mother did her best to ignore the almost childish excitement with which Ed responded. Though there was a certain coldness in her approach which made her feel almost like a prostitute propositioning a prospective client, Ed took her up on the offer in a manner that made it appear he hardly dared hope this eventuality would take place. As he held the car door open to let her into the front seat of his new Chevrolet, she found herself wondering how she'd ever gotten involved with him in the first place, and found herself thinking, now not even sadly, about her husband Tom.
Tom had been a fast mover, but he was anything but tenacious. Once he and Jean had started sleeping together, he seemed to take her for granted. He never quit looking for women on the side and though Jean was often hurt by his infidelity, his success with a wide range of women made him secretly even more attractive to her. He always seemed to have his pick of an extraordinary number of females, but more often than not he picked her. And even when he went off with another woman he always returned to her when it was over.
Ed was a slow mover. Jean had met him just over two years ago at a party in Santa Barbara. He was an eligible bachelor; she was an attractive young widow. A month previously she'd broken off the second serious affair she'd had since Tom's death. A circumstance of timing brought them together. Ed asked her out; she accepted. At the end of the first night he kissed her at her door. Two days later he'd called to ask her out again. A month later she finally found herself in bed, though she would have been quite willing on the first or certainly the second date. But once she'd slept with him, he seemed to think he owned her. Perhaps, she thought, even that attitude might have agreed with her if there'd been any strength to his possessing. But his hold on her had always been of a feeble, desperately grasping nature. It was a cloak for his own inner insecurity.
Ed talked about law and politics and Jean, half-listening to him, carried on her own silent inner monologue during the half-hour drive to his apartment. There had never been any magic to their relationship and there was no magic now. But Ed had not been bad in bed, and Jean was still determined to do what she'd come out to do. She had to sleep with a man, and Ed was the most available at the present time.
At last Ed pulled into the garage below ground level under the building. He locked the car and they took the elevator up. "Drink?" he asked after he'd let them into his apartment.
"One quick one," Jean said. "I left Stephan at home alone tonight. I don't want to stay out too late."
"Scotch?" She nodded and Ed poured, over the ice. "How is Stevie?" he asked, as though he sincerely cared. "He must be ... fourteen or so, right?"
"That's right." Jean watched him through dark, narrowed eyes, hurriedly sipping her whiskey.
"You know, I've really missed you," Ed said, staring at her with boy-scout sincerity, "when you called today, I could hardly believe it."
"I've missed you too," Jean lied.
Ed let his gaze descend briefly down to her breasts, the generous upper portions exposed by the low-necked cocktail dress she wore. "I ... I don't want to scare you off," he said, touching her shoulder, his Adam's apple bobbing visibly as he swallowed, hard.
Jean looked down into her glass. It was the same old Ed. She looked at his hand, soft, almost trembling on her bare shoulder. She saw the flicker of disappointment in his eyes as she turned away. For an instant she toyed with the idea of leaving. She didn't really want him. She wanted something, but Ed wasn't it. And she knew that if she carried through with her plan for making love to him, the old clinging would start again. Really, it wouldn't even be fair. She was just using him and she knew it. But as she remembered the embarrassing situation that had arisen last night she reminded herself that the consequences might be much more serious if she didn't take this opportunity to try to satisfy the gnawing need that had consumed and overcome her sensuous womanly body. The need was still there. She could feel it even now, a presence that would not go away. And Ed still could satisfy that, she thought.
"Jean?" he spoke hesitantly behind her. "What's the matter? I'm not going to force anything on you. Not until you're ready."
"You don't have to."
She remembered the way to the bedroom. She put her glass on the coffee table, walked down the short hall and through the door.
Jean looked at the soft, luxurious bed, her heartbeat hastening with her building anticipation as she contemplated the act she was about to commit. God, it had been so long, so long. She didn't even know how she had stood it, and as she pushed the straps of the gown from her shoulders and let it fall away from her full, sensuously rounded breasts, little chills of hungry animal desire danced spontaneously up and down the length of her spine.
The sex-starved widow stood naked to her waist in the unlit bedroom. Through the open door the light from the hall poured softly over the smooth flesh of her back. Behind her she heard footsteps, then they ceased. In the near-silence that followed she was conscious of the sound of Ed's strained guttural breathing. Then he spoke in a quivering, almost unbelieving voice:
"God, Jean! God you're so beautiful!"
A moment later he was up behind her. She felt his breath on her neck through her long silken hair. She felt his hands slip beneath her arms to cup over the rounded mounds of her up-thrust breasts, teasing her tingling nipples into even harder pulsating rigidity. Moaning softly, she pushed her gown down over the flare of her hips to drop lightly around her ankles to the floor. Then she turned her face to the side, looking over her shoulder at Ed through her lust-smoldering eyes.
"Come on, Ed. Let's hurry."
He was staring at her strangely, his own eyes wide and white in the soft light. His hands squeezed almost painfully at the sensitive half-spheres of her voluptuous breasts. His lips seemed to curl slightly over his teeth, like the lips of a growling dog.
"You really are in a hurry, aren't you?" he said, and Jean couldn't mistake the puritanical disapproval in his voice. "You're almost begging for it. What's the matter, haven't had any for the last few days?"
"Oh Ed," she moaned. "Don't look at me like that."
"You snapped your fingers and I came running."
Ed Barton felt all the resentment that had built up in him from Jean's having ditched him last fall suddenly rush to the fore. She had cut him off cold without a moment's warning and after that she'd refused to let him touch her, refused finally even to see him. Then today she had called and said she wanted to see him tonight, and like an obedient puppy he'd broken a previous date with a sexy little blonde who had marriage and children on her mind. And now he realized clearly her only intention had been to use him. He didn't even know why, but she had been waiting, silent and moody all through drinks and dinner, just to use him like a hired stud, And there he'd been, scrambling to please, trying to say all the right things, desperately hoping he wasn't boring her, wasn't losing her again before he'd even had her, again. Well, if this was what she wanted, this was what she was going to get. A stud service.
In a sudden forceful motion the resentful lawyer turned the nearly naked brunette to face him. The light from the hall cast a warm glow over the lush curves of her flesh, and her nipples peaked up rigid and dark at the tips of her full inviting breasts. Even in his moment of anger Ed couldn't deny that she was the most beautiful and most sexy woman he'd ever slept with in his life, and now he was determined to take her like he'd never taken her before. Her naked body was here, offered and waiting, and he wanted to kiss every inch of her, to fuck her like he'd never fucked her in the past.
His breath coming hoarsely from his lungs, Ed bent down slightly and forced his lips hungrily over Jean's mouth. He kissed her brutally, passionately, pulling her body against him to crush her breasts to his chest as he almost bruised her lips against her teeth. Then he broke off the kiss abruptly and dropped his head lower. He cupped her full upstanding breasts in his hands, pushing them upward before he covered one of the nipples with his lips and sank his teeth hungrily into the taut little bud, his tongue whipping teasingly over the sensitive tip. "Oooooooh," Jean purred, looking down through narrowed eyes at the manipulations of her ex-lover's lips and tongue on her tingling and swollen little nipple. Again she thought of all the months she'd let her sexuality lie dormant, and she trembled with anticipation and the realization that surely, finally her period of self-denial was drawing to its end.
Ed's hotly slavering mouth remained locked over Jean's swollen breast, his lips pulling and sucking eagerly at the rigid little bud of her nipple. And even as he continued to kiss and suck the flesh of her naked torso she could feel his hands moving down her body to wrap around her waist and pull her hardly protected loins against his own.
Then, with a sudden deep gasp, he straightened up. He stared wild-eyed down at her face and she realized that in spite of his obvious excitement he was genuinely angry at her. She was using him selfishly and somehow he knew that. And Jean couldn't deny the little flutter of apprehension mingled with anticipation she experienced far up in her belly as she realized he was channeling all the energy of his bitterness and resentment into his sex drive. He was going to take it all out on her in bed, and now in her mind she endowed him with a masculinity and strength which he'd never possessed for her before.
Again Ed's mouth crushed down over Jean's, his tongue shooting deep down into her open mouth, his grasping hands roving forcibly over the softness of her back and his fingernails digging brutally into her exposed flesh. He kissed her ruthlessly and with a vengeance, pulling her voluptuous body hard against his own, mauling her with all the manly strength of his anger and his lust. Then again he broke away. He seized one of her arms just above the elbow and led her to the bed, shoving her down almost violently in a reclining position on her back.
Jean stared hungrily up as Ed moved to the edge of the bed and looked down in triumph at her vulnerable, nearly naked body. Now she wore nothing but her sheer panties and dark nylons, and a further tingle of salacious delight tremored over her skin as he reached down to her upper thighs to unsnap her garter-belt. One by one he pulled the sheer nylons down off her long, slender legs, then hesitating again, eagerly surveying her sensuously limp form now completely naked except for her thinly clinging little panties.
Then, his breath coming in even louder gasps, he kicked off his shoes and climbed up onto the bed beside her, again dropping his mouth to her exposed breasts to take one of her hardened nipples between his teeth, his other hand moving up to cup and fondle the swollen orb of her other breast, until she moaned aloud from the tingling, lust-inspiring sensation.
"Oh, yes," Jean whimpered seductively as she felt Ed's teeth bite down hard into her desire-erected little nipple. Then he increased the pressure until her whole body shuddered, but at the same time she felt this hands venture lower, coursing roughly over the smooth plane of her naked belly, pausing at the sensitive little hole of her navel before his fingers inched down into the sparse curls of her pubic hair just at the top of the tight elastic waistband of her panties. And as she squirmed in anticipation under him, she felt his probing hand push urgently, beneath the tight-stretched band.
Now Ed was really getting excited. There was a time when he would have readily married this sensuous woman who lay nakedly writhing before him. She had balked at marriage and finally rejected him completely. But now she was back and he had her just where he wanted her. His cock was twitching already to full erection in his trousers, aching to be free, pushing almost painfully against the constricting material of his shorts. Jean was almost ready too, but he was determined to hold off as long as he could. He wanted to see her really begging him for it before he finally gave her what she'd come here to get.
For several more minutes Ed's merciless hand continued to tease and massage Jean's dark-haired pubic mound from inside her clinging panties. It seemed to her that an eternity passed before his middle finger extended to moved down into contact with the already hardened bud of her clitoris nestled at the top of the moistly heated slit of her eagerly welcoming cunt, and she arched her buttocks up urgently as she felt his outstretched finger move finally lower along the freely moistened little hair-lined cuntal opening until it was almost driving her out of her mind.
"Oooooh," the aroused young widow moaned as she wriggled her smoothly curved hips up from the bed and parted her thighs out wide, working the soft lips of her pussy eagerly up against the finger that probed between them.
Ed let just the tip of his tantalizing finger pop up inside her warm little orifice, then quickly withdrew, teasing and frustrating the nakedly writhing woman for several seconds before he suddenly thrust his extended digit straight up into the elastic-like opening, driving relentlessly deeper and deeper up into the clasping passage of her quivering vagina until it was completely buried up inside her pulsing cunt and his palm was pressed flat against her steaming pussy.
"Aaaaaaggghhh!" Jean moaned from the unaccustomed invasion.
She arched her body stiffly up from the bed, trembling in fear and pleasure as Ed again bit ruthlessly down on one of the hard buds of her nipples to prompt another painfully passionate cry to burst forth from her lips. Then, as the helpless young widow quivered beneath his assault, he began to work his finger slowly in and out of the flowering tightness of her gently yielding pussy orifice. And as he continued and intensified his teasing finger-fucking rhythm, he used his other hand to gently pull at her panties and draw them down off her rounded buttocks and down over the smoothness of her thighs to completely expose the triangle of silken black cunt-hair nestled between them.
"Ooooooh please," Jean gasped almost incoherently as Ed suddenly jerked out his plundering finger and moved lower on the bed to pull her panties down her legs and off her feet. Tossing them aside, he quickly moved his hands back up her thighs, spreading them out even wider apart to completely reveal to his leering gaze the nakedly vulnerable triangle of her cuntal plane. And as his extended middle finger stabbed swiftly back up into the damply clasping opening of her loins, he felt her hands begin to claw desperately at his shirt, loosening the buttons rapidly, tugging urgently to unbuckle his belt.
"Yes Ed," Jean purred, a shudder shaking her naked body as he rammed his finger deep up into her cunt. "Take your clothes off and make love to me. Fuck me. Fuck me now!"
Ed blinked. Even now he didn't expect to hear Jean talking like this. She must have really had a lot of experience since they'd broken up, he thought, and the twinge of jealousy he experienced at that idea only served to increase his lecherous rage. But still he hesitated, maintaining his kneeling position over the nakedly writhing woman on the bed, holding his finger deeply embedded up in her cunt as he stared deliriously down at her lust-strained face. Then he withdrew his impaling finger from her loins with a sudden sucking pop, gloating over the gasp that rose to her lips. As she waited trembling, he stood up and began to tear off his clothes.
Jean watched the tall broad-shouldered man with a smoldering anticipation that glossed her narrowed eyes. She should have done this or something like this long ago, she told herself in justification of the slight lingering feelings of guilt she experienced in her subconscious as a result of her slutty comportment. Then what had happened last night between her and her son might never have occurred. But now at last her wanton need was going to be satisfied, and the longing and hunger that filled her body blotted out almost all other thoughts from her mind. Ed was really ready to do it to her and she'd never seen him so aggressive. It seemed he was filled with an uncontainable violence and in a moment he was going to take it all out on her.
As the naked brunette watched with ever-building anticipation, Ed pulled his shirt from his shoulders and let it drop to the floor. Then a sigh of astonishment rose to her lips, as he pulled his trousers and jockey shorts down in a single motion and the lewdly pulsating shaft of his rock-hard cock sprang suddenly to freedom. In the time that had elapsed since she'd last been to bed with him, Jean had forgotten how really big Ed's cock was. And now it looked bigger than it ever had before, a menacing, threatening cudgel of rigidly pulsing flesh that looked like it would rip her apart at the seams, punishing and taming her until she was beaten into groveling submission before its plundering onslaught.
Jean closed her eyes to mere slits as Ed stepped out of his trousers and walked back to the bed. She moaned softly as she felt him climb up beside her, the mattress sagging beneath his weight. His hands reached out again to her naked torso and a groan came spontaneously to her lips as he dug his fingers cruelly into the softly pliant flesh of her breasts, taking one of her nipples between his thumb and forefinger and rolling it back and forth to tease it to even greater hardness. Then she sighed as he climbed between her parted thighs, keeping them spread out wide apart by the position of his knees as he dropped his muscular body down on hers. His lips again covered her mouth, and at the same instant she felt the sudden prodding of the distended hardness of his cock straight up between her sensitive inner thighs.
"Ohhhhhh!" she whimpered from the sudden pressure as he lunged forward, shoving his blunt cock-head straight up against the naked tenderness of her loins. "Go easy, Ed. I'm sensitive. It's been a ... long time."
Jean could hardly believe the vicious grin she saw on his face as he leered down at her. What was she trying to put over on him now? He didn't believe her, could never have believed that she had been all this time without sleeping with a man, and his own body shuddered from fury and excitement as he brutally lunged at her again, pressing the thick tip of his lust-erected cock even harder against the quivering warmth of her inner thighs. He craned his neck to sink his teeth back into the soft flesh of one of her breasts, and as he flexed and bucked between her legs he felt her hand move down between their bodies to clasp tightly around the rigidly pulsing hardness of his ramming cock.
Jean undulated her buttocks in slow careful movements, basking in the awesome power of the up-surging shaft of his cock-flesh pressed so threateningly up between her helpless thighs. She squeezed his massive penis softly, working its spongy, mushroom-shaped tip up and down the moistened slit of her hungry cunt before she finally positioned his bulbous cock-head directly in between her tenderly parted pussy-lips, just as Ed thrust forward again with even more devastating force.
"Aaaagggggghhhhh! Ooooooh Goddddd!" she groaned aloud, his ruthless and shattering penetration almost knocking the breath out of her as his blood-engorged cock-head plowed relentlessly up into her straining cunt. Her hand still clasped tightly around his spearing cock, exerting every possible effort to hold him back and shield her helpless pussy until she was ready to receive all the ponderous bulk of his prodigious weapon. But he refused to wait, and before her feeble resistance gave way, a low sob of complete submission escaping from her throat, she felt his ravaging cock stabbing deep up into her naked vaginal sheath. Then the lust-driven young widow sank helplessly back on the bed, letting her body relax as her vulnerable pussy flowered open, and the whole massive length and thickness of his lust-engorged penis drive without impediment all the way up into her most cherished cuntal depths, impaling itself up to the hilt into the skewered tightness of her fiercely ravished loins.
For a second they lay still. She felt his muscular torso pressing heavily down on the voluptuous cushions of her breasts. She was filled and stretched as she had never been before and she could feel every ridge and ripple of his hard male penis buried deep inside her all the way up to her cringing little belly. The thick tangles of Ed's profuse pubic hair pressed like teasing bristles against the tingling bud of her clitoris, and his sperm-heavy testicles hung lewdly down into the forbidden crack between her buttocks to touch gently against the fearfully contracting little orifice of her anus.
Then he flexed his turgid cock deep up inside her and a shudder coursed the length of her prone and lust-racked body. Almost lovingly she entwined her arms about his back, pulling him even tighter down against her as he began to move, fucking his distended cock in long diligent strokes in and out of the warmly pulsing tightness of her pussy, each impaling thrust sending additional shivers of lurid delight dancing over her nakedly sensitive flesh. He propped himself up on his elbows, gloating down at her lust-contorted face as his hands groped back over her full high-arched breasts to maul and squeeze them with animal violence while he intensified the speed of his shattering thrusts up between her wide-spread thighs. And as the last discomfort of his unmerciful entry faded, Jean experienced a rejuvenation of all the passion and want that had been building up in her since last night's arousing and illicit physical encounter with her own fourteen-year-old son.
The excited brunette almost let herself go completely, churning and humping her buttocks eagerly up in response to her ravager's pounding strokes. The flanged flesh-rimmed mouth of her pussy was rubber-tight around his blood-swollen penis, and his ponderously slapping balls swung forward with every furious thrust to. smack teasingly against the puckered little hole of her anus. His pounding cock felt as if it were stabbing all the way up into her belly, and already she could feel the first waves of pre-orgasmic ecstasy spreading out through her loins and breasts from the wildly stimulating sensation she received.
Bit by bit Ed increased the tempo and fury of his assault, striking with every racking lunge harder and deeper up into the woman who bucked in wanton abandon beneath him. He could perceive the delirium of lust in her glossed-over eyes. Her tiny clitoris was palpitating with unabated desire and her whole body seemed to be coming to life like never before. He reached down beneath her undulating buttocks, clasping tightly with both hands over the naked half-moons to guide her bucking response and even better expose her cringing cuntal area to his relentless assault. When he'd made love to her before he'd always been slightly inhibited by his fear of doing something that would turn her off, but now he wasn't holding back and she seemed to be responding even more passionately than she had in the past. She actually seemed to be enjoying his brutality.
In his determination to make his domination over her complete, Ed was seized by an even wilder idea and suddenly he rubbed the extended middle finger of his left hand against the crack of Jean's wantonly jerking ass. Flicking his finger forward, he worked a few drops of moisture over the little membrane that separated her anus from her cunt, spreading the slickening lubricant in a little circle around her quivering hole. Then, as Jean cringed in astonishment beneath him, he shoved his finger inward.
The lust-crazed young widow suddenly was snapped back to consciousness. My God, Ed had never tried to do anything like this to her before! She'd never let any man, not even her husband, take such a familiarity with her body, and she thrust her cringing buttocks down into the cushioned softness of the bed in a desperate attempt to escape his invading finger. And even as she did so, she abruptly, for no apparent reason, thought of what had happened last night between her and Stevie. The recollection, in her present lewdly aroused state of mind, was like the shining of a bright light in her eyes. For a moment she was dazed. She opened her eyes, staring up in confusion and dismay as she felt the continued intensification of the obscenely penetrating pressure against her anus. Ed's plundering finger rammed through the rubbery resistance of her puckered hole and embedded itself straight up in the clasping tightness of her rectum. Her mind focused, as a contrast to the bizarre sensation, on a clear vision of her son Stephan.
Then it happened. She couldn't have stopped it if she'd wanted to. Her orgasm came over her almost in the form of a religious awakening in which the vision of her darling young son was transfigured before her eyes like a shining light over the bed of sin in which she writhed in obscene fornication. The burning sensation in her anus intensified until she could hardly bear it, then miraculously merged with the sheer ecstasy she derived from the continued battering assault on her cunt. Her body tensed, her mind blanked. She forgot who she was and where she was. She knew nothing but the consuming blinding pleasure of the orgasm exploding in her loins.
Above her Ed launched a sudden hard-racking series of staccato thrusts as his cum-swollen balls exploded and his hot male sperm came boiling up the length of his cock to spew out like a cannon shot to mingle with her own freely flowing vaginal fluids. His penis pulsed furiously to the depths of her ravished cunt and beneath him Jean seemed almost to levitate from the bed in the frenzy of her release. She screamed and whimpered, her hands clawing wildly at his back as she basked in the dream-world of release, letting her mind go completely, while she took the holy vision of youth and innocence still hovering before her eyes, drew it to her bosom and swallowed it in her loins, sucking into her nakedly violated body the spirit-like phantom of her own son!
With Ed Barton's assistance, Jean masturbated mentally to shattering climax and release. It was her fantasy, she would realize later, that finally pushed her over the brink. Symbolically, she committed incest, and the rousing orgasm the act inspired seemed to go on and on, a soul-shattering explosion that lifted her almost out of herself.
Then it was over. Ed lay heavily on her, kissing her softly on the neck and ears. She opened her eyes, disgust and self-loathing descending like a shadow over her as she grasped the terrible significance of what she'd just done.
CHAPTER 5
Jean hesitated, taking a deep breath and doing her best to rally her courage before raising her hand to ring the doorbell. She hadn't seen Adele since their little falling-out the day before yesterday. Not that such fallings-out were that uncommon between them. Though they'd been friends in college and lived as neighbors their whole lives since college, she and Adele weren't really that much alike. In spite of all Tom's playing around, Jean had never been unfaithful to him during their marriage, even after he was shipped to the Far East and she was left here alone with their four-year-old son. But Adele frequently cheated on her husband Pete, which was something Jean had never been able to approve of. Often she found herself unwillingly obliged to cover for her friend, and on more than one occasion Adele had tried to involve Jean with male friends of her extramarital lovers. And then, of course, there was what had happened between Adele and Tom, just before he and Jean were married.
But there was a lot Jean liked about Adele, in spite of what she considered the other woman's shortcomings, and usually the tension between them would dissipate quickly enough. Today, however, she feared things might be different. Her anger had arisen from the remark Adele had made about her feelings for her own son. She realized now that anger should have been directed as much at herself as at her neighbor. And the anger was still there, turned inward, a deep-seated self-loathing that would be difficult to overcome. But that wasn't the real problem now, or the real reason Jean had decided to swallow her pride and come over and apologize in the hope she could patch things up. She needed help and advice. She knew no one else to turn to.
At last she rang the bell. She listened to footsteps in the house, then the door opened and Adele, wearing a skimpy halter that teasingly revealed her full rounded breasts and a pair of tight hot-pants stood before her. After an almost imperceptible hesitation she smiled and pushed open the screen. "Come in, honey. I'm glad to see you."
"I'm glad to see you too," Jean began, feeling somewhat foolish. "I ... I'm sorry about the other day."
"Forget it," Adele said generously. "It's already far in the past. Come on. I'll give you something cold to drink." The buxom blonde led her down the hall to the spacious kitchen and opened the refrigerator door. "Coke or a beer?" she asked as Jean took a seat. "Pete's got a couple of six packs if you want a beer."
"Yes. I'll have a cold beer."
Adele opened two of them and sat down across the table. Noting the troubled look on Jean's face, she smiled. "I said forget it."
Jean bit her lip. "I don't want to forget it, Adele. And it's not in the past. It's here, now. It's like ... it's the only thing that is here."
Adele raised her eyebrows. "Boy! You do look bothered. Tell me all about it."
"You were right," Jean began almost shamefully. "I didn't realize it at the time, but I guess I was looking at him ... at Stephan ... that way. I guess I must have been looking at him that way for some time now."
Adele nodded. "You have. But it's not that bad.
It's not bad at all. It's natural. And the way he looks at you is natural too. I told you, I read it in a book."
Jean took a long drink of the cool refreshing beer. "The way he looks at me?"
"According to Freud, though God knows I'm no expert, all boys, or almost all boys, go through a phase where they have sexual desires toward their mother. Stephan, I think is in that phase now. And mothers, especially if they don't have the boy's father with them, have natural, usually suppressed sexual yearnings for their sons. That's the source of over-possessiveness and all those things you hear of. And you're no exception."
"I know," Jean nodded ruefully. "My God though, you make me sound like some kind of hospital case." she paused, looking Adele in the eyes. "I've got to do something. Adele, last night, I mean the night before last, I hugged Stephan and he got ... an erection."
Adele smiled consolingly. "I know."
"You know?"
"Yes. Stevie was over here last night. He wanted some advice. He had the idea maybe Pete could help him out. But Pete couldn't advise a bullfrog about the birds and the bees. He just does it, without thinking. Steve is more sensitive. And right now he's got a few problems."
"What kind of problems?"
"Well, you know it's hard for a boy who doesn't have a father to turn to when he needs advice about ... the facts of life. And now he needs a lot of advice. He apparently thinks he made a fool of himself in front of his friends. I don't know the exact details but ... "
"How horrible!" Jean gasped, all her motherly protective urges rising to the fore. "I knew it was a mistake for me to let him start running around with those older boys."
"You have always been overly protective."
"Overly protective?"
"That's natural too, honey. Don't get defensive with me. And there is obviously a lot going on below the surface that needs to come out into the open now. I think it's good this had happened. Until the last couple of days you didn't even realize there was a problem. But to me it's simple." She paused. "You want to hear it?"
Jean nodded. "I wouldn't be here if I didn't."
"You're not going to like it."
"How do you know? Give."
"You're a woman. You need a man."
"I had a man last night," Jean interrupted. "I went to bed with Ed again."
"I imagined as much. How was it?"
"That's not what I came over here to talk about."
Adele's smile was smug, almost self-congratulatory. "So you still need a man. What Stephan needs is a woman."
"Adele!"
"I didn't mean it that way."
"Then how did you mean it?"
"I didn't mean you necessarily had to sleep with him. But you could at least teach him to kiss and pet, you know." Adele giggled. "Sounds like fun to me.
"But I'm his mother. I can't do that."
"Somebody's going to have to do it."
The two women sat staring across the table into each other's eyes, Adele smug, self-confident, Jean floundering in confusion and misgivings. And the sensuous young mother knew the challenge was there. She'd grasped, in no uncertain terms, the unvoiced but clearly implied threat.
If she didn't do it, Adele would.
* * *
Jean changed from her tight-fitting pants into a short summer skirt. After a moment's inner debate, she peeled off her sleeveless pink sweater and reached up behind her back to loosen the snap of her brassiere, her gaze dropping briefly to the full swells of her breasts, standing up proudly with no real need of artificial support. Then she pulled the sweater back over her head and turned to the mirror for appraisal. She decided the effect was actually attractive, not to mention the comfort, and she found herself wondering why all these years she'd persisted in encumbering her firm lovely breasts with a brassiere. Then she felt a slight flutter of anticipation as she wondered if Stephan would notice, and wondered how he would react to the change.
If the worried young widow had gone to her friend for consolation and support, she had been anything but comforted by their conversation. Jean could not remember when she'd ever heard a suggestion so shocking as Adele's. And yet the more she thought about it, the more she became convinced that the idea did have merit.
The upbringing of a young boy by his mother without the strong male presence of a father to balance the relationship was a very complex and even dangerous undertaking. Jean had known that before. But never until now had she examined the various aspects and pitfalls to such a degree as she had today. She had accepted instinctively a dual role in the raising of her son. She had tried to be both mother and father to Stephan. Adele had pointed out that this might have been the wrong approach and Jean was inclined to agree. She could never replace his missing father. She could never be a strong masculine and authoritative figure Stephan could respect, look up to and imitate. And in her attempt to fill her dead husband's role even as she fulfilled her own duty as loving mother, she had only succeeded in sheltering Stephan, or even smothering him. Now somehow she had to cut the apron strings, but she had to do so without completely breaking contact and losing rapport with her son. If Stephan was going to develop normally into a strong healthy man, they had to become companions, living under one roof on equal and mutually respectful terms.
Adele had defined the ideal perfectly when she said that Stephan had to become the man of the house. It was Stephan, not Jean, who should be filling the vacuum the death of his father had left in their home.
Jean took a last appraising look at herself in the mirror, then walked out of the bedroom and down the hall to the den. Thought of in those terms, the whole situation seemed easy enough to deal with. But there were more disturbing subtleties.
A sexual tension now existed between Jean and her son. It had manifested itself most clearly the night she had consciously excited herself while holding him in her arms and when his response to the physical contact was revealed in the small hard erection Jean had noted tenting up the crotch of his pajamas. But the tension had been there before. She could see it now. And it was still there between them. Stephan was old enough to know the facts of live and now more than ever he needed a father to advise him. But Tom would not come back from the dead and there was no man in Jean's life, certainly not Ed Barton, who could take his place. Jean had to teach Stephan the facts that he was old enough to come to terms with. But she couldn't just tell him, because she was a woman and he was a man, that made a genuine father-and-son-type verbal rapport impossible. The best she could hope to do would be to establish, at least as far as the subject of sex was concerned, a kind of brother-sister relationship. That would entail physical contact, direct demonstration, at least until the ice was broken. And what worried Jean most about this was her own response. Just the thought of actually kissing and caressing her darling young son, even innocently and unlasciviously, caused an excitement to stir in Jean's breasts that almost drove her out of her mind.
The dark-haired young mother went out to the kitchen and made herself an iced coffee, then returned to the den and sat down on the couch. She crossed her legs, noting that her skirt came barely halfway down to her knees, sipped the coffee slowly and mulled over the disturbing situation in which she found herself embroiled. The minutes ticked by like separate little eternities as she waited for the sound of Bill's motor-bike. Outside the cool shadows of summer evening crept across the lawn. Restless, filled at once with dread and anticipation, Jean rose and walked over to peer out the window. Her heart almost skipped a beat as she looked up toward the corner and saw Stephan walking down the street.
Jean pressed her face to the glass, watching with baited breath as the young boy drew closer. He'd left on Bill's bike to go to the swimming pool and she wondered idly why he should be returning on foot. Then as he came up into the yard, his shoulders slumped, a look of dejection on his face, Jean thought she understood. And the genuine maternal compassion that filled her existed in complete independence of the other less noble feelings that had driven her to embark on her present daring undertaking.
Her heart pounding in her breast, Jean turned away from the window and walked to the hall doorway. She listened to Stephan's dragging footsteps as he came up onto the porch. Then the front door opened and he entered, head slightly bowed, eyes downcast.
"Stephan!" His name came from her throat in an emotional little gasp.
"Hello Mom," her son said. He started past her without even looking up, and seemed at first to see her only out of the corner of his eye. Then he stopped suddenly, his head jerking around, his eyes widening as they beheld the two soft round swells of her breasts, unencumbered beneath the tight-fitting sweater she wore.
Jean stood trembling in the door as Steve's excited eyes took in the lushly revealed curves of her body, dwelling on her breasts and the soft bare skin of her lower thighs before he looked questioningly back at her face. And as he looked at her, Jean looked at him, wantonly, hungrily, lovingly. Her motherly love and the illicit desire that had been fomenting in her body seemed to merge as an overwhelming force in her consciousness. Little electric tingles coursed perceptibly over her skin, finding focus in the pert and rigid tips of her nipples and deep in the most forbidden and sensitive areas of her loins. Then, almost before she knew what she was doing, the voluptuous brunette had stepped forward and reached out toward her son, her bare arms going warmly about him, her fingers combing lovingly through his hair. She stooped slightly, placing her cheek against his, listening to his boyish breath whistling raggedly past his ear. She snuggled her breasts warmly against his shoulders and chest, pressed her thighs against his, her eyes closing as she felt something stiff and hard prodding up against her loins on the outside of her skirt. She moaned, softly, distantly. Then with a sudden squirming motion Stephan wriggled from her arms and stepped away.
In the excitement of the moment Jean had closed her eyes. Now she opened them, staring almost crazily at her son. "Stephan? Stephan, what's wrong?"
"You know what's wrong," he blurted shamefully.
"I don't." Then, seeing the bulge at the crotch of his Levi's, she understood. "It happened again," he said. Jean reached out and placed her hand lovingly on the side of Stephan's red-flushed face. Her eyes watered as she gazed tenderly down at him. And she could hardly believe the lusty voice she heard was her own.
"I know it happened again, Steve. And it's all right. I expected it to happen. I guess I wanted it to."
"You wanted it to? Gosh, Mom. I ... I don't understand."
Jean smiled. She took her son by the hand and led him back into the den and over to the couch. "Sit down. I'll try to explain."
The astonished teenager could hardly believe his ears. He'd gotten another hard-on when his mother had taken him in her arms. She must have felt it against her thighs and she'd seen it sticking up in his trousers. She must have known what it meant. She must understand it meant he wanted to do thing, dirty things, to her. And yet she wasn't mad. She said she'd expected it, said she'd wanted it even.
"All right, Steve," Jean began after she'd taken a seat beside him on the couch. "I want you to understand that there is nothing wrong with ... with the physical manifestation you just displayed. It's natural that should happen to you when I touch you and hold you the way I did. You're turning into a young man. I'm a woman. It's natural that you should respond to me and that I should respond to you." She paused, not sure what to say next. "Our relationship is a very special one because ... because your father is not here. I think I've made a lot of mistakes in the past. Now, somehow, I want to rectify them. And you're going to have to help me. And together we're going to have to ... come to terms with our ... sexuality. Both as individuals and as we relate to each other."
Jean continued nervously, trying to explain generally the ideas she'd been pondering since her conversation with Adele, expounding as best she could on the relationship between, for example, a baby or a small child being stroked and caressed by its parents, and the first sexual experiments of stroking conducted by the puberty and pre-puberty aged child, then trying to tie this information with the phenomenon of sexual foreplay as she perceived it pertinent to a boy of Stephan's age and making vague references to adult sexual activity as it pertained to itself.
Stephan listened to her as attentively as he could, but though what she was saying seemed at least connected to what he had on his own mind, he was having a difficult time following her line of thought. He was completely confused by the whole situation. It was embarrassing and exciting at the same time. Something very strange was going on between him and his mother, and though he recognized its existence it seemed beyond his ability to grasp. He knew he'd been sexually curious about his mother for a long time, but the feelings he'd experienced the other night when she'd held him in her arms and again just a few moments ago were new to him. He'd never been held or touched by another female like that and his whole body was still tingling from the warm softness of having had her arms around him, from feeling her big warm breasts pressing almost nakedly against his chest when she'd held him to her. And the thing that made it all so unique and exciting was that he'd sensed instinctively that she, his own mother, had been just as excited as he was.
Doggedly, Jean stumbled onward with her technical explanation. Then her voice faded as she realized Stephan was hardly listening. He was staring intently down at her thighs, half-revealed by the shortness of her skirt, and as she glanced back at the crotch of his trousers she saw that the tell-tale bulge had returned. She was exciting him, merely by the closeness of her body she was prompting him to a new erection, and the realization of that sent a galvanic surge of tingling electric shocks up and down the length of her spine. Hardly able to control her own secret inner pleasure, she reached up and touched his shoulder to attract him to look her in the eyes.
"Do you understand what I'm trying to say?" Her voice almost quivered and she was acutely aware of her son's nearness and of his innocent masculinity as she spoke. "Do you?"
"I guess I do," Stephan stammered, his eyes descending again greedily to the full swells of his mother's breasts and the hard points of her nipples making visible protrusions in the tight-stretched material of her sweater.
Jean's mind was racing wildly. She still hadn't really gathered the courage to say what she wanted to say. She'd been speaking in general, almost clinical terms, and the problems she and Stephan needed to confront were not general at all but very specific and personal. Yet the mere broaching of the subject caused a nervousness and excitement to surge in her belly and loins that was more than she could control. Oddly, she felt almost like a teenage girl herself, curious and frightened on the verge for the first time in her life of sexual contact with a boy.
With a desperate effort, Jean tore her eyes away from Steve's excited face. "I guess what I'm saying doesn't make much sense, hunh? Let's try another approach. I know you went to Pete's and Adele's looking for advice. I know something happened that embarrassed you in front of your friends." She paused, watching the crimson flush come over Stephan's cheeks. "Now don't be ashamed. I want to help you. Tell me what happened."
"They've found a couple of girl friends," he said sadly.
"So. You're getting old enough that you should be able to find a girl of you're own," Jean soothed, realizing as she said that that she would actually be bothered by the thought of Stephan, her Stephan, with another female.
"That's the problem," Steve answered glumly. "They had another girl for me. But I didn't ... I didn't know what to do with her. I didn't even know how to kiss her. And she just laughed at me. Anyway," he added. "I don't have a bike. I couldn't take her anywhere."
"Oh, Stevie," Jean purred, her hand still resting on her son's shoulder. Then, hardly even thinking of what she was doing, she turned him to face her. She watched his eyes open wide as she leaned toward him and touched his lips with her own, pressing her mouth lightly and softly over his, letting her lips linger there for a brief but exquisite moment.
"That's what you do for a start," she said with a shaky smile as she drew back. Then, her own face flushing, she averted her eyes, beset by guilt and shame at the lascivious excitement even that brief and almost innocent kiss had inspired.
Steve could feel the trembling of his mother's hand on his shoulder, see the nervous tightening of her face. He felt his own young cock swelling to even greater hardness in his trousers. It wasn't the first time she'd kissed him, of course. But it was the first time she'd kissed him like that, and he could think of nothing he'd ever experienced in his life that had felt so good and so exciting. And he had to know that same feeling again. Suddenly determined, the nervous youngster lunged forward toward his mother on the couch, gathering her voluptuously inviting body into his arms, pulling her face to his own as he locked his lips ardently over her slightly open mouth.
The startled mother gasped in surprise at her son's sudden show of aggression. Delicious erotic sensations rippled through every nerve in her body and she felt half-drunk with the sensual delight of his boyish embrace. Her scarcely protected breasts were pressed hard against his firm young chest and tingling sparks of rising lust seemed to be shooting crazily between their incestuously entwined bodies. For a brief moment she lost herself in the mounting desires rushing through her breasts and loins, let her mind be filled with forbidden visions that bordered on shameless dreams of incestuous seduction.
Then, as she continued to squirm her body against her son's, as her hungry lips parted to suck his tongue deep into her mouth, Jean realized what really dangerous ground she was treading on. The currents of desire now shooting out of control through her body were beyond the bounds of rationality and she knew that what she was doing was absolute madness. Adele had convinced her that to kiss Steve, to hold him, to teach him a few things and maybe even to let him feel her breasts, buttocks and thighs if he wanted to would do no real harm in the long run. And maybe she would have been right, if it could stop there. But the way she felt now, this should be only the beginning. Their loving embrace should go on and on, it should build and build, it should reach some end. And that was what made the whole thing so really mad, because it could never reach its natural satisfying conclusion. It could only serve to frustrate them both, and she knew that with every moment she let the kiss continue, the frustration both she and her son would feel later would only increase. And yet she couldn't stop herself. Not now. Her body was aching with a need she'd almost forgotten she could even know.
At last, with a desperate effort, Jean pulled herself free from her young son's embrace. She drew back, panting, staring at him wild-eyed as she saw the hunger and want in his face. She was vaguely aware that in her twisting on the couch she'd allowed her short skirt to work even farther up her thighs and she knew that Stephan could see all the way up to her skimpy little panties. And it was precisely there his gaze was directed. He was staring unashamedly straight down at her lewdly exposed loins.
He wanted her. She knew it suddenly. He wanted more than just to kiss her, to touch her body and be touched by her hands. And worse, she wanted more than that from him.
Suddenly filled with fear and self-loathing, Jean stood up and pulled down her skirt. She glanced again hysterically at her son, then turned abruptly and hurried out of the room, down the hall to the front door.
"Mother?" She heard him call, faint in her ears, as she went out the door. It seemed to echo over and over as she got into her car and drove off.
CHAPTER 6
Jean drove her four year-old station wagon slowly and without destination through block after block of the sprawling suburb. Her thoughts were muddled and incoherent. Lurid erotic images warred with pangs of guilt in her mind. Her attempt to come to terms sexually with her young son had only made things worse. But she had learned one thing from the experiment. The only way two people who desired each other could come to terms sexually was by having sex together, by achieving mutual satisfaction. And she and Stephan did want each other, warped as their want might be. And all this evening's little episode had done was increase their mutual frustration.
More by accident than by design she found herself on one of the main boulevards that led toward the heart of town. When the roadside tavern approached, it seemed only natural to stop for a drink and try to calm her nerves. When, three whiskey and sodas and nearly an hour later, she walked out of the tavern and got back into her car, she still hadn't decided what to do next. But she knew she had to do something. The situation as it presently stood was intolerable.
Feeling slightly light-headed from the alcohol she'd drunk, Jean drove back to her house, parked and got out. Through the front window of the den she could see the gray glow of the black-and-white television. Then Stephan's face appeared in the window, peering darkly out at her, and just the sight of her beloved young son caused a quickening of her pulse. When she let herself into the house Stephan was waiting for her in the doorway of the den. She stopped. They stood silently staring back at each other for a long moment. She felt his eyes burning over the inviting swells of her breasts and the lush curves of her body. The fluttering nervousness in her stomach was almost more than she could bear and Stephan looked as if he were unable to find the words to speak. At last he lowered his eyes to the floor, and turned away.
"You're not going out tonight?" Jean asked.
"No. The other guys are with their girls."
"I'll fix us supper then."
The evening passed slowly as a prison sentence. Jean cooked a couple of minute steaks and made a big platter of French fried potatoes, but Steve ate without his accustomed relish. Afterwards they watched one fairly interesting TV show and a couple that were downright bad. Jean tried on several occasions to make idle conversation but it didn't get very far. Neither of them mentioned what had happened before she ran from the house. Its omission left an unbridgeable gap between them.
When the eleven o'clock news came on she suggested to Stephan that he was probably ready for bed. He agreed obediently, and after a last nervous look at his mother the young boy walked out to the hall. Jean sat where she was, staring without interest at the television, tears filling her eyes and spilling down her cheeks. She waited until Steve had gone to his room, then got up and started toward her own. At his half-open door she paused and looked in. He sat propped against the back of the bed, his troubled face illuminated by the reading lamp. He wasn't reading. He wasn't doing anything. He was just sitting there in his pajamas.
"Good night Stephan," she whispered.
"Good night Mom."
She continued on to her own room. Inside she slipped off her shoes. She undid the snap of the zipper at the side of her skirt and pulled it down. The garment hung precariously on the flare of her shapely hips as she stood looking at herself in the mirror. Then, also in the mirror, she saw the door behind her ease slowly open. Stephan, still in his pajamas came through. She turned slowly to face him and whispered softly his name.
"Where'd you go?" he asked.
"What honey?"
"Where'd you go tonight when you left? I thought you were running away from me."
She managed a smile. "I guess I was. And from myself too. I didn't go anywhere. Just for a ride."
"But...., " he began, his voice faltering.
"But what?"
"But I liked that. Kissing you and holding you."
"I liked it too, Stevie. I liked it too much."
"Don't call me Stevie anymore," he said. "It makes me feel like a kid."
"All right," she promised, watching him through narrowed lust-glazed eyes.
When Steve moved it was awkwardly and without finesse, but the sheer decisiveness of his action reminded his surprised mother of the way the boy's father had of going without hesitation after anything he ever set his mind on having. The excited teenager half-lunged and half-stumbled toward her, falling off-balance into her arms opened in reflex to catch him. His arms moved quickly around her back, both his hands clasping the twin half-moons of her buttocks and pulling her loins tight against his own as he planted hungry kisses on the sensitive skin of her neck just below the ears. He trembled against her, his face crushing her breasts, his breathing coming loud in her ears.
"No, Steve. Please, no!" the astonished young mother moaned without conviction.
"I'm sorry, Mom," he said gustily in her ears. "But I can't help it. You're so beautiful and I love you so much and I want ... your body so much."
Jean could feel the blood raging deep within her body, and for the first time she realized the enormity of the dilemma in which she and her young son were enmeshed. His want for her was a urgent as hers for him, and she wanted him the way she'd never wanted another man since his father. She wanted to kiss and hold him like she'd already done, but she wanted so much more than that. Her craving was almost carnivorous and she wanted everything he had to give her. She wanted to let him kiss her over her whole sensuously aroused body. She wanted to love him and let him make love to her. She wanted to teach him, to teach him the joy of thrusting his hard little cock up in her cunt, teach him to find and quiet the source of the lustful thunder that was building through her breasts and loins. She wanted to train him in the art of pleasing a woman, to recreate in him the man she had loved, the man who had sired him.
She wanted, by making love to her son, to bring his father back, reincarnated.
But it could not be. Beautiful as it was as a dream, in reality it was a lascivious and sordid idea and somehow she had to stop it before they both went past the point of no return.
But she no longer knew how to stop it. Steve's inexperienced hands had moved beneath the waistband of her loosened skirt. They grasped forcibly over her firmly rounded buttocks under her dress, squeezing and kneading them through the outside of her panties with a hypnotic rhythm that jarred her from head to foot. At the same time she could feel his young hard cock pushing up in full erection against the tender softness of her belly and thighs and even her forbidden pubic mound. The throbbing pressure caused her panty-covered vaginal slit to moisten in unwilling welcome, and it required every bit of her strength to fight the overwhelming impulse to plunge her own hand straight down under her skirt and pull it up to expose herself even more completely to his maddening stimulation.
More and more the insane and illicit fantasy in which Jean had indulged the last couple of days was becoming real and prevalent, taking control of her spirit and mind, guiding her helplessly yielding body to prompt her to wriggle her torso in teasing response. Further wild thrills coursed through her body as she felt the swollen hardness of her teen-aged penis jerk even larger inside his pajamas. Her legs were becoming weak and she thought she would pass out from the sheer agony of it if she didn't find some kind of release from the burning desire that tormented her. And Stephan needed his own release too. But how? What could they do, short of intercourse, to kindle this raging fire of desire and establish some kind of rapport between them that would enable them to go on living as mother and son?
She asked the question silently in her mind and silently it was answered.
Masturbation. Mutual masturbation!
The very thought was almost too obscene for words, and yet she realized it was her only hope of emerging from this crisis hanging on to even a semblance of self-respect. And she knew now that she had to have at least that much. She had to be touched, caressed, stimulated to even greater peaks of lust before she could emerge with the peace and satisfaction of physical release. And maybe, if they both did it for each other, they could make their sexual peace without stooping to means even more depraved.
The lust-driven mother seized deliriously on the perversely thrilling idea that had popped unbidden into her mind, and before she had a chance to give it a second thought she suddenly squirmed free of her eagerly groping son and stepped back to stare narrow-eyed down at his face. Then, as a teasing little smile played on her lips, she reached down to the waist of her already loosened skirt. It took just a shove and the flimsy garment dropped from her hips and went slithering down her smooth thighs to the floor.
Stephan's eyes almost bugged out of his head as he saw his mother standing before him in nothing but her tight-fitting sweater and her transparent little bikini panties. Through the thin nylon material he stared, hypnotized by the soft vee-shaped triangle of dark pubic hair that nestled between her thighs which was almost frightening in the very awesomeness of its beauty. He had seen his mother naked before, but that was years ago. It was just recently that he'd begun to be haunted by the memory of the vision. And now just this shadowy glimpse of her pussy through her thin little panties brought the whole picture back to life in his mind.
Jean's courage almost deserted her when she saw the look on young Steve's face. His astonishment was evident and she could see the curiosity in his eyes. His innocence could not have been more apparent, and as she felt his stunned gaze drifting up and down her almost naked body from her high proud breasts, swollen lustfully into ripe melon-shaped mounds inside her sweater, to the scarcely protected softness of her cunt in her clinging panties, she made one last desperate attempt to abandon her lewd undertaking. But she realized deep inside it was already too late to turn back. Once her mind had seized upon the idea of satisfying her lust and giving her son his own badly needed satisfaction at the same time, she'd lost all hope of regaining control of her senses.
But even in her present state she barely recognized the sound of her own voice as she spoke: "Do you remember what I look like without my clothes?"
Steve blinked. "Gosh yes! Well almost. How could I forget?"
"Do you want to see me again?" He managed only a greedy nod. Jean smiled, lasciviously and wantonly. "I remember you too. So take off your pajamas and I'll take off my sweater."
Skip stared at his mother with shock, feeling almost nauseous with the fluttering of butterflies in his stomach. His stiff young cock was aching within the confines of his pajamas and shorts, but still he made no move to do her bidding.
Sensing her young son's hesitance, Jean reaching out toward him. As chills of delight raced up and down his spine, she deftly flicked open the buttons of his pajama-top, then quickly pushed it from his shoulders and let it fall to the floor behind him. Her hands dropped quickly downward to the elastic band that held up the bottoms. With a gentle tug she pulled them down off his hips, a small spontaneous gasp rising in her throat as she saw the hardness and surprising size of his erect young cock springing out from his almost hairless loins. My God, little Stevie really was growing up. His teenaged penis was almost man-size, and compared to the last time a couple of years ago when she'd seen him with his cock erect in his sleep, it seemed almost double in length.
Then, leaving Stephan standing completely naked before her, his dark-haired mother grasped her own sweater and peeked it slowly up over the voluptuous swells of her breasts crested by her hard-swollen nipples. She tugged the garment over her head, mussing her hair and giving herself a wild, wanton appearance. Naked now except for her panties, she tossed her sweater aside. For a moment she stood looking in hungry silence at her eagerly aroused teenaged son. Then she slipped her trembling hand around his waist, urging him over to the bed and guiding him down to a reclining position on his back. Climbing up beside him, she gazed passionately down into his wide excited eyes.
"Gosh Mom," he croaked. "Are we really gonna do it?"
Jean smiled and shook her head. "No Steve. We're not going to do that. We can never do that. But I know you're excited and I am too and we're going to do something together, something for each other, that will make us both feel better." She moistened her lips in an intentionally seductive gesture. Then she reached down to run one of her fingers softly along his thigh, stroking slowly upward to brush gently over the pulsingly hard resiliency of his cock jutting up from his loins.
"Wow!" Steve gasped, shuddering excitedly from the thrilling contact. Then his mouth fell open as his mother's hand moved down to clasp securely around the urgently pulsing hardness of his young penis.
Jean's brain was whirling in an ever increasing spiral of need as she clasped her hand sensuously around his spontaneously jerking little cock-shaft. God, her son was so handsome, so vulnerable. He was like his father, before she'd ever known him, and for an instant she basked in the bittersweet memory of the night Tom had first seduced her and taken away her own carefully guarded innocence. Now that act was going to be reversed. It was she who would be the seductress, the violator, and her only regret was that the seduction would never completely be consummated, not in the way she now so desperately longed for it to be.
Steve's throat constricted until he felt as though he might never again be able to utter another word of speech. He felt his mother's experienced fingertips stroking tenderly up and down the naked hardness of his virginally throbbing young penis. The lust-arousing sensation made his whole body tremble, and he felt as if he could cum right there on the spot. His mother was actually touching his cock. And she was here in bed, almost naked, right beside him. And she was looking at him with an expression of love and longing like he'd never seen before in all his life. He'd never heard of anybody's mother doing something like this to him. For a moment he wondered what Bill and the other guys would think if they knew about it. They might even call it sissy or something. But he didn't even care. It felt too good and there was no way in the world he could have brought himself to object.
Then an uncontrollable gasp of excitement burst from Stephan's lips as his mother's hand squeezed the hard slender rod of his cock, and her other hand moved down to tenderly cup the tight-stretched little sac that held his cum-filled balls. He watched with fascination as she began to stroke his stiffly distended cock-shaft right before his gaping eyes, her fingers pulling the loose outer skin up and down just below the blood-filled pulsing cock-head. He felt as if he'd die if she didn't stop it ... but it would have been even worse if she did. Then suddenly the aroused teenager stiffened as he felt himself completely losing control.
"Uh-oh," he groaned. "Be careful, Mom, I'm gonna..."
His young mother ceased her teasing manipulations and left her hand resting gently and quietly around her son's straining cock-shaft. "I know," she purred, smiling down at his face. "If I don't stop you're going to cum. And I want you to cum. fingers softly along his thigh, stroking slowly upward to brush gently over the pulsingly hard resiliency of his cock jutting up from his loins.
"Wow!" Steve gasped, shuddering excitedly from the thrilling contact. Then his mouth fell open as his mother's hand moved down to clasp securely around the urgently pulsing hardness of his young penis.
Jean's brain was whirling in an ever increasing spiral of need as she clasped her hand sensuously around his spontaneously jerking little cock-shaft. God, her son was so handsome, so vulnerable. He was like his father, before she'd ever known him, and for an instant she basked in the bittersweet memory of the night Tom had first seduced her and taken away her own carefully guarded innocence. Now that act was going to be reversed. It was she who would be the seductress, the violator, and her only regret was that the seduction would never completely be consummated, not in the way she now so desperately longed for it to be.
Steve's throat constricted until he felt as though he might never again be able to utter another word of speech. He felt his mother's experienced fingertips stroking tenderly up and down the naked hardness of his virginally throbbing young penis. The lust-arousing sensation made his whole body tremble, and he felt as if he could cum right there on the spot. His mother was actually touching his cock. And she was here in bed, almost naked, right beside him. And she was looking at him with an expression of love and longing like he'd never seen before in all his life. He'd never heard of anybody's mother doing something like this to him. For a moment he wondered what Bill and the other guys would think if they knew about it. They might even call it sissy or something. But he didn't even care. It felt too good and there was no way in the world he could have brought himself to object.
Then an uncontrollable gasp of excitement burst from Stephan's lips as his mother's hand squeezed the hard slender rod of his cock, and her other hand moved down to tenderly cup the tight-stretched little sac that held his cum-filled balls. He watched with fascination as she began to stroke his stiffly distended cock-shaft right before his gaping eyes, her fingers pulling the loose outer skin up and down just below the blood-filled pulsing cock-head. He felt as if he'd die if she didn't stop it ... but it would have been even worse if she did. Then suddenly the aroused teenager stiffened as he felt himself completely losing control.
"Uh-oh," he groaned. "Be careful, Mom, I'm gonna..."
His young mother ceased her teasing manipulations and left her hand resting gently and quietly around her son's straining cock-shaft. "I know," she purred, smiling down at his face. "If I don't stop you're going to cum. And I want you to cum.
But I have to too and I want you to make me do it with your hand."
Steve could only groan in eager delight as his mother scooted up on the bed, shifting around so that her own panty-clad buttocks were nearly at eye level to him and her softly-haired pussy was so close to his face he could almost have reached out and kissed it. Then, still clinging to his jerking cock with her right hand, she reached her left hand back and in a slow teasing motion she peeled her flimsy little panties down off her hips and thighs to her knees, completely exposing her sensuously dimpled ass-cheeks and the dark-haired mound of her cunt to her young son's hungrily leering eyes as she turned to lie sideways on the bed beside him.
"All right Steve," she moaned. "Now we're going to make each other cum. Put your hand between my legs and play with my pussy while I finish jacking you off."
Steve needed no further encouragement. But even as he moved to comply with his mother's command, she seized his wrist to guide his fingers up between her lewdly parted thighs. She gasped out loud at the sudden contact of his outstretched middle finger on the pulsing little slit of her pussy, and at the same time she resumed the up-and-down stroking motion of her own hand on Stephan's obscenely erected young cock.
"Oh Stevie," the aroused young mother moaned, forgetting her promise as her son's eagerly searching fingers instinctively parted the pinkly yielding lips of her cunt and began to probe experimentally up into the sensitive and tender little orifice. "Oooooooooh," she gasped, her whole body jerking from the short stab of slight but pleasing pain as his thumb brushed against the erected bud of her clitoris and his extended middle finger wormed deeper and deeper into her lewdly moistened loins.
And as the aroused woman began a ceaseless chant of salacious surrender to her consuming incestuous lust, Stephan began to hunch and buck his buttocks in response to the manipulations of his mother's experienced hand on his pulsing cock. God, she really knew how to do it. He had been masturbating for several years and cumming regularly for the last two, but he'd never known anything like this. Her hand felt just the way he'd always imagined a woman's pussy would feel if you actually got into it, squeezing hard, then gentle, dragging slowly up and down his sensitive cock-skin until he felt as if his balls would explode. And he knew that was just what was going to happen. His erect little hardness was already twitching in eager spasms in anticipation of his lewdly inevitable ejaculation to come.
Then at last he gasped out his warning: "I can't hold it. I can't hold it any longer."
"Then cum," Jean whispered. "Cum darling, cum. Just keep playing with me while you're doing it."
Seconds later as she looked down through lust-glazed eyes the first white hot droplets of her son's hot teenaged cum began to spurt up almost to her face from the little slit at the tip of his rock-hard cock. The white viscous fluid shot up and hung in the air, falling back to shower on her own forearms as she continued frenziedly working her hand around his jerking little penile shaft.
And, inspired by his own violent ejaculation Stephan worked his fingers even more furiously in and out of his mother's lewdly plundered cunt. He sensed her grit her teeth from the raw sensation, relishing the anticipatory spasm of her lust-aroused little clitoris, straining for her own release as the increasing tremors of excitement surged through her breasts and belly and loins.
"Oh Steve, yes!" the wantonly aroused woman whimpered in lascivious abandon as the welling promise of release surged through her genital flesh. Then at last it began, a sudden fluttering, a little series of mild but gratifying pleasures, a seeming lightening of her whole body, a momentary blanketing of her mind as little waves of ecstasy coursed out over her. She looked down between her own swaying breasts to observe the rapid workings of Stephan's fingers between her lewdly wide-spread thighs, and a rush of motherly affection seemed to heighten and color her shattering orgasm until she almost sobbed with joyous emotion.
Then a low sigh heaved out of her throat, and she slacked the movements of her hand as she felt Stephan's cock twitch one last time and start to go limp in her fist. With her other hand she pushed his fingers from her loins. The dark-haired young mother looked tenderly down at her teenaged son, and he stared with dazed eyes back at her. Then she slid around on the bed, dropping down beside him, hugging him tightly to her breasts and smothering kisses of love and gratitude over his face. She held him like that for several seconds, then pushed him gently away.
"Now go back to your bedroom," she said in a voice that revealed the lump that had swollen in her throat.
Stephan's disappointment showed in his face. "But I want to sleep with you. like I did ... when I was a kid."
Oh, God, Jean thought to herself. It would have been so wonderful if she could keep him here all night, just this one night, naked and warm beside her own naked body beneath the sheets. But she knew that if she kept him here tonight she would never have the willpower to send him away. And she had to send him away. She had to somehow put this terrible thing that had happened behind her. They both had to.
"No Steve," she said at last, shaking her head.
"But mother, please. I want to stay."
Jean felt the tears rush to her eyes. She pulled him to her again, smothering his face in the warmth of her voluptuously naked breasts. Renewed tingles of delight coursed wantonly over her body as she felt her son's hands exploring affectionately over her naked flesh. She could hear her own breathing rhythmically hastening with twinges of returning want. Then with a sudden effort she released her son from her embrace, moving away from him on the bed, looking at him with eyes that shone with her tears.
"You can't stay Stephan. You can't! Go on to your room beofre we do something we'll both regret."
"I won't regret it, Mom. I promise."
"Go to your room!" Jean hissed.
Abashed, the dejected youngster gathered up his pajamas and walked out of the room backward, his eyes fixed steadily on his mother's prone and naked body.
CHAPTER 7
Confronting Stephan the next morning was one of the most difficult things Jean had ever done in her life. She'd awakened almost at sun-up. The memory of the lewd and incestuous episode that had taken place the night before flooded back to her with a wave of contradictory images. She was at the same time elated and disgusted. Her memory of the obscene ecstasy which her young son had given her with his inexperienced but exquisite finger-fucking of her love-starved loins caused tingles of unwanted delight and passion to dance like chills over her naked flesh beneath the sheet. Her heart almost leapt into her throat with her recollection of his naked young cock surging and twitching to lewd erection in her hand, exploding in a violent eruption of pleasure and spraying squirt after squirt of his innocent young sperm into the air. It was so beautiful, so beautiful ... and at the same time it was so sick and so terrible. And she was so evil!
"Oh, how did I ever let Adele talk me into that?" she said to herself aloud.
But she knew it wasn't entirely Adele's fault. It had been her own unnatural lust and craving that had finally driven her to commit this unnatural act; it would be she who would have to bear the consequences of her sin. And that was the worst part of all. How would she ever be able to go on living in this house with him her boy so close to her, with her want and her terrible guilt resting always like a heavy weight on her shoulders? How would she sleep alone at night knowing that he was so near, also alone in his bed? How would she ever sleep anywhere with the knowledge of this depraved thing she had done?
She tried to tell him at breakfast: "Stephan, I want you to understand that what happened last night was an accident. It can never happen again. We've got to live with it and maybe someday we will learn to live even more harmoniously together because of what we've done. But you, honey, you have to help me see that it doesn't happen again."
"But Mom. I want it to happen again."
"No! No. No. No." In her own voice she could hear the cutting edge of hysteria, and little flutters danced imposingly in her belly and loins as she felt Steve's searching eyes roving longingly over her body.
Then a pensive look came into his eyes and suddenly he stood up from the table. "I think I'll go out then."
Jean knew she should have felt relieved. Instead, she was plagued by a deep-rooted disappointment or even suspicion and it was all she could do to keep it from showing in her voice. "Where? Where are you going?"
"I dun no."
He left the house abruptly and without further explanation, leaving her feeling empty and alone in all her despair and guilt. And through the long slow morning she was plagued by another gnawing little worry. It was almost like jealousy. She would have given anything to know where he had gone.
Jean fixed herself a sandwich for lunch. She'd abandoned it, half-finished, when she heard the front door open and Adele's voice calling in, "Anybody home?"
"I'm in the kitchen," Jean replied.
A moment later her voluptuous blonde-haired neighbor came bustling in, clad in her usual around-the-house outfit consisting of tight shorts with a skimpy little halter to scarcely cover her voluminous breasts. The sexy blonde helped herself to a Coke from the refrigerator and settled down at the table.
"Wow, did I have a night last night. Pete was out on a drunk with a couple of his buddies from work. And I was out on a you-know-what with I bet you-know-who."
If Jean hadn't been able to guess she would have hardly cared. Right now Adele's free-swinging sex life was the least of her interests.
"And how was your night? Heard from Ed again?"
"No. I told him I didn't want to see him again. I'm afraid you wouldn't understand."
Adele smiled slyly, giving Jean the most terrible sensation that she did understand. Then the blonde said, "Stevie seems to have a lot on his mind this morning."
"You talked to Stephan?"
"He came by the house right after breakfast. How are things with you and your handsome son?"
"Did Steve say something to you about ... anything?" Jean blurted out too quickly, and immediately regretted it.
Adele smiled again. "Anything? What happened?"
"Nothing happened!"
"Well something happened. Otherwise why would he ask me that?"
"Ask you what?" It was all Jean could do to keep from giving way to complete hysterics.
"He just asked me something about handling women. He said that if there was a woman you knew wanted you, was it best to really go after her all the way or play hard to get, the same way girls are always playing with guys?"
"What ... did you tell him?"
"I told him to try a little of both. I told him there was nothing like another woman to make the first one come around. Then comes the good part."
She stopped and waited, almost tauntingly, until Jean urged her to continue. "All right, Adele. What's the good part?"
"Oh, it was so cute I could have died. He came around the table and put his hand on the back of my neck and looked down at me with this sort of adolescent Burt Reynolds look and said to me, 'You're a woman.' Just like that." She giggled. "Then he kissed me," Adele looked searchingly across the table into Jean's dark troubled eyes. "I wouldn't have told you, love, but I had the most distinct feeling he didn't want me to keep it secret."
"Then ... what happened," Jean croaked. "Then he left."
Jean sat in silence at the table for a moment, then slowly lifted her eyes. "Adele. Don't you start playing around with my son. I mean it!"
The look in Jean's eye was enough to erase Adele's smug smile from her face.
* * *
Later the distraught mother would tell herself that everything would have been different if she hadn't drunk nearly a quarter of the bottle of whiskey that afternoon while she waited for Stephan to come home. But then she would wonder how, if it hadn't been for the soothing effect of the alcohol, she could have even made it through the day.
Adele left her so upset and worried she could have screamed. She milled aimlessly around the house, took a shower to kill time and imagined what it would be like to have Stephan come in and scrub her back, the way his father had done sometimes. When she got out, her naked flesh dripping with dampness, she went to the bedroom and took a good long look at Tom's picture and cried, wondering if he could ever forgive her if he knew what she had done to his son. Then she turned to the whiskey, the stimulation of the alcohol seeming only to draw into sharper focus the vivid and shocking memories of what had happened between her and her son the night before. But at least the alcohol brought her out of her depression. She even managed to have a private little laugh about what Adele had told her about Stephan coming over to talk to her and make his little pass at her. She reminded herself that was exactly the way Tom had treated her, more than once. Of course this time it wouldn't work. She had made her vow of sexual abstinence regarding her son and she doggedly determined to keep it. But she could enjoy a kind of vicarious thrill from her son's show of promise.
By the time she heard the motor bikes roaring down the street toward the house, the slightly inebriated young widow was feeling downright giddy and flirtatious. She also experienced a certain alcohol-heightened sense of motherly responsibility, and as she got up to go to the door to meet her son, Jean reminded herself that though she could enjoy privately her knowledge of Stephan's attempt to use her friend Adele as a tool to manipulate her, she would have to exert her authority and make it very clear to him that he was not to fool around with the sexy blonde next door. Just because of what had happened last night, she wasn't going to let Stephan go stark raving wild at fourteen.
A warm alcohol glow lighting her face, Jean opened the door and stepped out on the porch. Evening had come; it was nearly dark and almost cool. She smiled at her son who stood talking to his two friends, still mounted on their bikes parked in the drive. Though they were only a couple of years older than Steve, their maturity showed in their faces. Bill Beamer, the larger of the two, smiled confidently back at her, his appreciation of Jean's sensuous body undisguised in his gaze. The other boy, Jimmy was his name if she wasn't mistaken, looked at her more cautiously. Steve, she noted, appeared to be intentionally ignoring her, probably as an extension of his little scheme.
"Hello Mrs. Clayton," Bill called. "Wanna go for a ride?"
"I'd love to," Jean said gaily, noting the sudden frown that crossed her son's face. She smiled with genuine pleasure. "Some other time," she added.
"You can ride behind me anytime you want," said Jimmy.
Stephan cleared his throat loudly. "I'll see you guys later," he said in invitation for them to leave. "I've got to get in and ... do a couple of things."
Jean took only half-conscious note of the slight sharpening of Bill Beamer's expression. Then he shrugged and smiled challengingly back at her. He bounced down on the starter pedal of his bike and the engine roared into action. Jimmy started his own and the two machines sped away back up the street.
Jean waited as Stephan walked toward her. When he came up the steps she put her hand affectionately on his shoulder. Seeing the flicker of hope in his eyes, she removed her hand and turned back through the door.
"Come onto the den, Stephan. I want to talk to you," she said, conscious that her drinking showed in her voice. She felt light-headed, slightly dizzy. She found herself thinking that she needed another drink.
Jean led her son into the den, where she took a seat on the couch and he came and sat down beside her, closer than she would have liked considering the subject she was determined to discuss with him. The whiskey bottle and her empty glass sat on the table before her. She contemplated them for a moment, then poured a short shot and drank it down quickly, grimacing slightly from the strong aftertaste. Stephan was watching her somberly, still hopefully. Then because of the alcohol, she smiled. She laboriously wiped the smile from her face, determined to look responsible and business-like. Then she smiled again.
"I know you were at Adele's after you left here this morning. You didn't say anything to her about ... last night?"
"Is that all you're worried about?"
Steve's words cut into her like a knife. "No. That's not all I'm worried about." She stared at him desperately, her composure slipping swiftly away. A few minutes ago she had been so sure of herself. She was going to take control of this whole terrible situation, she was going to take control of herself, and everything was going to be all right again. And now just sitting here so close to him on the couch, her mind reeling from the whiskey she'd imbibed, all her secret illicit longings were coming back even stronger than before. She needed him. God, she loved him so much and she had wronged him so terribly and still she wanted him so badly she could hardly stand it.
"That's not what I'm worried about," she repeated. "I just wanted to be sure. But..."
"But what, Mother?"
His emphasis on mother was another cruel little cut.
"I don't think Adele is a very good influence on you." It sounded so ludicrous, she thought after she'd said it. "You know what I mean. I don't want you going to Adele for advice like that."
"Who else am I supposed to go to? You weren't going to give me that kind of advice this morning."
He was right. He was so right about that. And that wasn't really what was worrying her anyway, not what was worrying her most. "I don't want you playing around with Adele!" she blurted out at last. "She told me you kissed her and that sort of thing. ... with a woman like Adele ... can only lead to trouble."
He looked at her thoughtfully. Then a faintly sardonic smile crept over his face. "I did more than kiss her."
Jean's hand lashed out of its own accord. She heard the loud crack of her palm on Stephan's cheek before she'd had time to think consciously of what she was doing. Her hand springing back, she watched in open-mouthed regret as the red imprint seemed to appear and disappear on his face. She saw the look of anger and hurt that filled his eyes. His lips quivered as he stared wounded back at her. A lump of tearful remorse swelled in her throat. Then she took him in her arms, hugging him to her breasts, showering kisses over his face and forehead as she felt his hands clutching hungrily at her breasts, as she felt his warm teasing breath on her neck.
She held him like that tightly for a long time, all her love and passion for him returning to almost overwhelm her with longing and want and need. She rocked him in her arms like a baby, then pushed him gently away, her tongue moistening her lips seductively as she stared, fever-eyed, down at his face. Then she sighed, low and deep. "What else did you do?"
"Hunh?"
"With Adele. I have to know."
He hesitated for a moment, then spoke quickly, "Well, I kissed her, she sort of pushed me away, so I went and she pulled me back and told me not to give up so easy. Then we sort of wrestled around and I was getting all excited and her ... that little thing like a bra she wears over her tits came off and she had me suck them and everything, though they're not as pretty as yours. And I was trying to get her to do what you did last night for me but she only did it on the outside of my pants until I got really hard. But I didn't tell her anything about last night. And then she stopped me and said we'd gone too far and you wouldn't approve."
Jean had only half-heard. She was remembering something else, before her son was even born. She remembered going to Adele because she had a feeling Tom was with another woman and she wanted to talk to her girl friend, and when she got to the door she heard Tom inside with her. Adele's words still echoed sometimes in her ears: "Oh eat me, Tom! Eat me like that! Eat my pussy!"
Jean blinked. She had drifted off. Stephan's eager face came back into focus. She looked at him for a moment. She turned away and poured another shot of whiskey and looked back at him. Right there she lost the fight, but she'd already almost ceased to struggle. She wasn't going to lose her son to Adele too. And maybe what he'd just told her wasn't even true. But if it wasn't an account of the past it was a prophecy of the future. Unless she did the only thing she could do to stop it!
"Stephan."
"Yes, Mom?"
"Do you want me? Would you like to do what we did last night again? Or do something even better?"
Stephan could hardly believe his ears. "Golly yes! That's all I've been thinking about all day long. That one time wasn't even almost enough."
"It wasn't enough for me either. Come on, lover.
Let's go to the bedroom."
"But ... ? " He touched her hand as she stood.
"Are we really going to do it? I mean, the real thing?"
She smiled. "It's all real, Stephan. But no, we're not going to go all the way. We can't do that because it wouldn't be right. But we're going to do something I think you'll like just as well."
CHAPTER 8
Inside the bedroom Jean turned her back to her excited young son. "Now, darling. Unzip me, will you?"
Stephan reached with trembling hands to undo the zipper down the back of his mother's dress, his raging excitement ruining his coordination as he tugged at the tiny tab. Then Jean reached up over her shoulder to part the garment off the sensuous line of her spine just before he made a movement to try to rip the garment forcibly from her body.
The nervous teenager still didn't know what his mother had in mind, but his fingers moved without a moment's hesitation to fumble with the snap of her brassiere, his breath rasping in sharp gasps as he struggled with the hook. This time he succeeded before Jean was forced again to intercede, and she abandoned her body willingly to his hungry groping as he seized her shoulder and turned to face him, then pulled the dress off her shoulders and worked her brassiere-straps hurriedly down her arms to completely expose her full voluptuously rounded breasts to his hungering gaze.
The widowed mother's aroused face radiated an almost fierce lust and pride as she smoothed her hands up over her slender rib cage to cup the melon-shaped mounds of her full breasts, lifting them even higher and holding her peaked-up little nipples straight toward Stephan's face. She had made her decision. She was going through with the obscene idea that had flashed in her mind, and wrong as she knew it was, she was now determined to enjoy it to the fullest.
"Kiss them, Stevie," she purred urgently, pushing her tingling nipples up towards his eyes.
Stephan didn't even object to her use of the diminutive of his name. A sigh of delight whistled from his mouth and quickly he leaned forward, fastening his lips greedily over the mauvely-swollen nipple-tip of his mother's left breast. Jean swayed before him as she felt her son's boyish lips begin to nibble and suck at the sensitive buds of her nakedly exposed flesh. At the same time his hands moved to her body, trailing excitedly down over the supple curves of her rounded buttocks and thighs. He kissed and sucked hungrily over her breast, drawing the silken nipple deep in his mouth as Jean basked in the ecstasy of the delicious contact, then almost reluctantly pushed him away.
"Wait Steve. Let me get completely naked," she purred down at him in her lustful alcohol-tainted voice.
Stephan's young eyes stared eagerly at the smoothly inviting contours of flesh his mother was again revealing to his childishly leering gaze, and he could hardly believe the salacious smile that adorned her face as she bent slightly to push her dress over the flare of her pelvis and down off her waist. She drew her dress and then the panties beneath it slowly down over her succulently rounded hips, then turned away from him completely naked, stooping to pick up the garments she'd shed. In her performance of this gesture her buttocks parted slightly and Steve's bugging eyes widened even larger at the sight of her black-hair-fringed cunt from behind and the forbidden little hole centered in the deep crevice between her ass-cheeks.
God, he was staring straight into his mother's ass-hole and that was really more than he expected. In some really dirty way, it seemed to him that her puckered little anus was almost as beautiful as her breasts and cunt. He remembered hearing a joke Bill had told about a woman being fucked in the ass and for the first time in his life he considered the possibility that such a thing could really be done.
His dark-haired young mother pitched her clothing onto the dresser stool and turned back lovingly toward her eager son, looking at him with a wicked smile. Then she reached out and took him into her arms, pulling his still-clothed young body warmly against her own shamelessly exposed nakedness, pressing the voluptuousness of her firmly rounded breasts back to his face and trembling with the sparks of building lust shooting out from her loins and breasts as he took one of her hard little nipples back into his mouth and resumed his lascivious sucking. At the same time she felt his hands again venturing over her body, one of them clasping tightly to the rounded half-moons of her naked buttocks, the other trailing down through the silken curls of the hair of her cunt to tweak teasingly over the already urgently tingling bud of her clitoris. Then using the experience he'd gained the night before, he slid his fingers again up into the forbidden valley between her thighs, the exciting contact sending titillating surges of delight darting like needles of fire all the way up into her belly.
"Ooooh yes Stevie," Jean moaned, unwrapping her arms from her son's neck and beginning impatiently to tug at the buttons of his shirt. She tore the garment away from his shoulders and stooped to kiss his bare chest. Then, unable to hold herself back any longer, she pulled him hurriedly to the bed and pushed him down on his back. Naked, she climbed up on her knees beside him, trailing her slavering tongue down over his chest to his stomach, dipping it teasingly into the little hole of his navel. Then she raised her head and looked at him with a lust-strained smile.
"You know what I'm going to do, don't you Stevie?" she purred teasingly.
"I think so," Stephan gasped.
"Then say it. What do you think I'm going to do?"
Stephan didn't have the slightest idea. "The ... the same thing as last night?"
She shook her head. "No. I'm going to do something I used to sometimes do for your father, something I've never done for anybody else in my life." She licked her lips in obvious suggestion. "I'm going to suck your cock." Then, inwardly cursing herself even as she spoke, but unable to resist her perverse compulsion, she persisted in her flow of obscene words. "And I want to tell you about something your father used to do for me. You can do it too if you want to, but I'm not going to force you if you don't think you're ready."
"I'll do it!" Steve agreed eagerly. "I'll do anything you want."
She smiled with unconcealed pleasure. "Your father, when I used to suck his cock like I'm going to do for you, used to like to do the same thing to me."
Stephan gulped. That was almost more than he'd bargained for and he wasn't absolutely certain he'd even heard correctly. But he had heard Bill and Jimmy talking about eating cunt, and though he found the prospect a little frightening, just the thought of doing something so dirty as putting his mouth on his own mother's pussy caused his surging young penis to twitch up even harder inside his tightly confining trousers.
Wantonly relishing her son's shocked innocence, Jean reached down to undo his belt and unzip his trousers. She tugged them along with his jockey shorts quickly down over his slim hips and buttocks and abandoned them obscenely clutching at his ankles. Then she stopped for a moment, feasting her eyes greedily on the upstanding hardness of Stephan's teenaged cock spearing straight upward from the sparse pubic hair at his loins and the crinkled sac of his virile young testicles between his legs. God, she felt so corrupt to be seducing her own son like this. But she wasn't doing it out of anything but the best intentions. She couldn't help herself anyway and if she didn't do it she knew somebody else would. And she knew all too well exactly who that someone would be. And she wasn't going to let Adele get the jump on her this time.
With a soft whimper Jean leaned forward, her wicked tongue flicking teasingly from her lips to dart down and brush the tip of Stephan's burgeoning cock, dipping into the slit at the tip of his spongy cock-head to lap up the tangy tasting little droplet of seminal fluid that had seeped forth like a happy tear. As he groaned beneath her, she took his pulsing penis-shaft firmly in her hand, her eyes narrowing as she gazed hungrily down at the swollen blood-filled cock-head and the tiny opening staring back at her like an obscene eye. Then with a gasp of surrender to the depraved urge she couldn't resist, she dropped her head lower and, opening her mouth to form her lips in a lewd oval, she plunged them gluttonously around his little cock-head itself.
A lascivious shiver racked Steve's innocent young body from head to toe and his face flushed crimson red as he stared down at the sight of his own mother's voluptuous lips enveloping his stiffly rigid cock so warmly between them. Her agile tongue swished wildly around his tingling cock-head, causing a lustful burning to streak all the way up and down his pulsing cock-shaft. He groaned, gritting his teeth from the fantastically exciting sensation as the lust-crazed woman continued to taunt and tease him by seeming reluctant to take all of his eagerly swollen young cock deep into her hot mouth. She nibbled on it like a kid with a lollipop who didn't want to see it go away, and finally it was more than he could stand. Suddenly overwhelmed by his urgent need, Stephan suddenly lunged his buttocks up from the bed in a frenzied act of aggression that drove the pulsating rod of his cock all the way into the smoldering depths of his mother's lewdly stretched and ardently sucking mouth.
Relishing her son's show of strength, the sex-starved mother took a weird masochistic delight in his unmerciful plundering of her mouth, wriggling her buttocks in wanton encouragement as Steve drove his turgid penis all the way to her gulping throat, embedding his lust-thickened rod of flesh so deeply, she almost gagged. At the same time she felt his hands moving eagerly to her up-thrust ass-cheeks, and she sucked subserviently as he lunged his pummeling cock-shaft up again to impale her so deeply she was sure she would really choke. She struggled to catch her breath on the out-stroke as Stephen prepared to thrust again. Then one of his hands moved up to the back of her neck and he seized her by her long black hair to hold her face tightly to his loins.
Jean purred and gurgled in shameless cooperation as she felt her sex-crazed fourteen-year-old son begin to really fuck into her welcoming mouth. The pistoning strokes of his manly tasting young cock-shaft between her parted lips and teeth battered her ruthlessly. His pelvis bucked up and down in a staccato rhythm, and she could feel his bloated cock pulsing harder and harder against her alternately expanding and hollowing cheeks. He was going to cum sooner than she wanted him to, too soon for her to even begin to instruct him in the obscene reciprocative act she yearned for him to perform on her. But it was too late now to even try to stop him. He was going to cum right in her mouth. He was going to pump the whole store of his hot young sperm straight down his own mother's throat, and she sensed that, like his father, he wouldn't be satisfied until she had swallowed every last oozing drop of his manly fluid.
In her present state of delirious masochistic bliss, his mother didn't care what he did to her. But she had to have her own satisfaction too, and in sudden desperation she reached down with one of her hands to thrust it up between her own dampened thighs, her middle finger extending into contact with the already urgently swollen bud of her clitoris. Whimpering defenselessly around his lust-inflamed hardness that pounded fiercely into her obscenely filled mouth, she began to stroke swiftly up and down along the tingling slit of her moistly heated cunt. And in spite of all her shame and humiliation at the degenerate act she was committing, she began to work even more desperately to please her lust-driven son with the subservient ministrations of her ill-used lips and tongue.
Jean tightened her lips smoothly around the pulsing thickness of his rubbery cock-shaft, scraping softly with her teeth as her servile head bobbed up and down. She twirled her tongue slaveringly around the lust-bloated glans of his cock-head, beginning in her lustful near-stupor to crave for the obscene ejaculation that was to come, relishing the depraved thought of her own son's male cum spurting deep into her throat and spilling obscenely down her eagerly lapping tongue.
And she wasn't going to have long to wait. A great surging wave of ecstatically demanding pressure was building deep in Stephan's sperm-bloated balls as he lifted his head for an even closer look at his mother's face working over his cock thrusting lewdly deep up into her mouth. His stomach-muscles tightened as the teenaged boy arched his buttocks up from the bed, jamming his cum-bloated cock deeper into her throat, pulling her face even tighter against his pelvis with both his hands. He felt a final rush of uncontrollable excitement, and then like an earthquake it began.
His cock gave a series of violently rapid jerks and the last of his control crumbled in an obscene torrent of lust as the lewdly searing droplets of his white-hot sperm came spurting forth from the tip of his pistoning cock in an explosion of maddening relief. His mother whimpered submissively as she sucked up the heavily spewing streams of his cum, her own fingers continuing to work in rapid frenzy up into the flowering opening of her loins. She gurgled from the viscous invasion of her mouth, clasping her lips in a tight circle around his wildly lurching hardness, frantically determined not to lose a single drop of her own son's precious life-giving sperm.
And as she threw herself wholeheartedly into the act of milking him dry, Stephan's hungry grunts of pleasure and triumph only drove her to greater and more submissive effort. Drop after drop of his hot young semen slid down her throat, the excess dribbling from the corners of her mouth in spite of all her efforts to prevent it from being wasted. It seemed like an eternity before his hands finally slipped from her hair and Stephan's spent cock began to slowly deflate in her mouth. She finally let his nearly limp penis slide out of her still sucking mouth and turned to gaze through glossy eyes up at her son's flushed face.
"I couldn't stop it," he said, seeing that her own hand still lay tightly up between her thighs. "And you're hung up."
She managed a smile. "No. I don't mind." Strangely it was true.
Now she turned around and lay beside him, holding him lovingly in her arms. She slept peacefully for a while, naked and almost content. And this time she didn't send Stephan away.
CHAPTER 9
When Jean awoke the next morning to the yellow sunlight pouring through the window of her room, the warm naked male body seemed so natural lying there beneath the covers beside her that she hardly even stopped to question why he was there. But the fact that he was there seemed hardly a reflection on her own already tainted character. For at least her letting him sleep with her instead of sending him to his own room had not been prompted by the incestuous motherly lust that had led to what happened before.
After her moral fiber had been so weakened by alcohol that she was driven to suck the penis of her own innocent fourteen-year-old son, Jean had taken a short nap, and Stephan had remained naked in bed beside her. Then she'd awakened, kissed him and told him how wonderful he was, meaning every word she said, and she got up and cooked them both a good dinner. They watched television for a while, though that was not what either of them really had on their minds. Then she had announced that it was time for bed. Stephan had been completely rested and rejuvenated from his previous exertion and in spite of his rousing ejaculation into her mouth, he was more than ready for another round. But enough was enough, and though Jean had not even achieved an orgasm on a sexual level-she had experienced a kind of emotional release in the selfless sacrifice of her body and mouth to her son-something made her feel compelled to deny herself. And in that sense it became a further act of self-sacrifice when she consented to let Stephan share her bed just because, as he'd said, "he wanted to be with her".
Now, next morning, sighing happily, Jean snuggled her warm breasts against her still sleeping son. She let her face sink heavily into the softness of her pillow. Her arm went around him and she hugged him in his sleep tightly to her and closed her eyes. Moments later she was asleep again. Later, she awoke to what was probably the most unusual experience she'd known in her whole life.
The tickling seemed at first to come from far away, a gentle wet teasing that, in her blurred slumber, caressed not only her whole body but her whole being itself. Gradually, as the weird sensation forced her almost unwillingly to consciousness, the strange titillation sharpened into focus. Then suddenly she opened her eyes with a yelp, almost paralyzed with shock and surprise at the strange tingling sensation she experienced down in her loins and clitoris and at the strange slurping noises that issued up from the nearly shapeless hump she perceived there beneath the sheet, knelt over her own prone and defenseless body.
It was probably a question of too much information being fed in for her mind to computerize and act on at once, for somehow she didn't immediately associate the strange feeling she experienced between her already wide-spread thighs with the still unidentified form beneath the sheets. And she connected neither of those phenomena with the cozy memory that her son had spent the night beside her. like a movie heroine who awakens in the middle of the night to the chilling realization that her man has abandoned her in favor of adventure, danger, death or maybe another woman, and who slaps the empty place beside herself in bed as though she expects to find him there, Jean reached over to touch the still warm place next to her where her little Stevie had lain. Then a low gasp emitted from her throat as she felt a moistly burning object trailing slowly all the way up the sensitive length of her naked and lewdly spread cuntal slit. She heard a soft grunting between her thighs. In sudden near-panic she tossed the sheet off her body.
Her own son knelt nakedly between her widely parted thighs, his red-flushed face buried deep into the soft furrows of her forbidden loins. Her whole cunt was completely exposed to his leering young gaze by the outspread frog-like position of her legs. His breath was blowing hotly down on her clitoris, and as she peered between the voluptuous mounds of her naked breasts and down across the smoothness of her belly to his face, she could see that his cheeks glistened with a lewd coating of her own freely flowing cuntal lubrication. The teenaged boy's eyes were wide and fascinated as he beheld the delicious inner secrets of her most intimate depths. He didn't appear to have a very clear idea what he was doing, but it was evident he was doing his best. Then, realizing that his mother had awakened, he peered sheepishly up at her surprised face and explained, "I felt like I cheated you last night. I know this was what you wanted me to do, so I thought I'd try to make it up to you this morning."
If he had used any other approach but that, if he'd given any slight warning before he began, Jean was sure she would have pushed him away, forbidding him to perform this shocking act of cunnilingus at his raw and tender age. But he was already in the midst of the act, his tongue flicking like a lash of fire over her already lustfully swollen little clitoris and digging limberly up into her succulent little cunt-slit itself. His elbows were squarely positioned to hold her thighs spread apart, and the wanton tremors of excitement the genital-oral titillation sent coursing out over Jean's nakedly goose-bumped flesh combined with the flood of loving motherly emotion and gratitude at his show of affection made it impossible for her to offer the slightest resistance.
And besides that, she had no will to resist. It was all she could do just to lie still and submit to the maddening oral assault on her quivering loins. As consciousness returned completely, a low squeal of lust-tortured delight rose in the aroused young widow's throat, and in a sudden compulsion to make Stephan's demonstration of filial affection even easier to perform she jackknifed her knees up to the soft round cushions of her breasts to completely spread open the soft black-haired plane of her cunt to his lips and view, her hands going down to his shoulders and neck to urge his face even deeper between her thighs in encouragement.
"God!" she heard the mature muffled groan come echoing up from her loins. "Your pussy is beautiful. I never dreamed a pussy could be like this. Oh Mother!"
"Oh Stevie," Jean purred back in response. She was awake now, but she was functioning on a dream-state level of consciousness that released her from the responsibility of considering the moral aspects of what was taking place. She never even bothered to ask herself if she was doing wrong by letting Stephan do this to her. She wanted him to do it; it felt so good. It felt better than anything she had ever known in her life, and her whole body writhed in gentle undulations as the boy rapidly gained experience from trial and error and began to really tongue-fuck her cunt in earnest.
"Oh! Oooooh yessss!" she moaned. She felt as if she'd been waiting for this all her life and shock after shock of electrically titillating sensation surged through her loins as he closed his teeth gently over her twitching little clitoris, biting down so hard on the tiny bud she gasped aloud.
Stephen sucked the miniature phallus-like protrusion hungrily into his mouth, his teeth clinging to it as tightly as a dog's to a bone while his lashing tongue worked over and around the nerve-end tip, stroking it wetly in lust-provoking little circles. Beneath him Jean began to grind her buttocks in a wildly humping motion on the bed, flailing her head from side to side in complete abandon as her son's mouth opened wide and he moved the slavering limberness of his darting tongue back downward along the smoothly heated crevice of her hair-fringed cunt.
From then on the attack was swift and uninhibited. His tongue went straight up into the tightly clinging little opening of his mother's already gushing cunt, and without further hesitation he began an oral simulation of his best conception of the act of fucking itself. He drove his tongue swiftly in and out of her alternately dilated and clasping inner flesh, his wanton assault prompting a stream of unintelligible pleadings and whimperings to pour from deep in her throat as he mercilessly swirled and flicked his slashing tongue deep up inside the velvety interior of her loins. The young boy waited until her cries of submission had reached a pitch of insanity.
Then he moved.
Jean opened her eyes, staring up in shock and confusion as Stephan pulled his head suddenly out from between her thighs and left only a deeply burning frustration where his tenderly caressing tongue had been. For a minute she couldn't even grasp what was happening, but when she saw her son, crouching on his knees between her still-parted thighs, his hand moving up to wipe the mingled saliva and cunt-juice from his cheeks as he looked hungrily down at her waiting body, she thought she knew even before he said:
"I want to make love to you mother. I want to fuck you."
Jean's gaze dropped to the pulsing erection of his young rigid cock looming up from his almost hairless loins. Her own hand moved down her body to cover the warm soft place where his face had lain in the hope she could temporarily quench the outrageous fires of untamed desire sweeping wildly through her loins.
"But we can't do that, Stevie. We're mother and son."
"If we can do what we've already done, we can do that too."
There was, she had to admit, a certain amount of common sense in that. And anyway, aroused to the fiery pitch she was, she didn't know how she could have stopped him if she'd wanted to. She couldn't stay like she was. It was a dirty, calculating trick he'd played on her, but he must have known that this was the way he could get her excited enough that she wouldn't have the strength or will to resist. But even at that he wasn't going to give her a chance to gather her strength. As Jean floundered nakedly in the throes of womanly indecision, torn between her confounding want and a last shredded remnant of horrified morality, her excited young son made his move, dropping suddenly forward to a prone position on her body, lowering his face to her breasts and taking one of her tinglingly swollen nipples hungrily into his mouth, even as he lowered his own hips down between her sensuously parted thighs.
Now it was too late to stop him and Jean gasped down into his ear, her hungry pelvis beginning to swivel in anticipation as she felt the rigid male hardness of his burning cock press threateningly up between her legs. She lifted her satiny amber thighs and entwined them about his hips, pressing her softly-haired pubic mound against him with a teasing undulating motion. Then as he moved upward on her body, she greedily welcomed him to her until the length of his insistent boyish cock was prodding directly up against her cunt.
Jean gasped for breath, her pelvis churning hungrily upward in a premature fucking motion. She wriggled up on the bed until she felt Stephan's lust-bloated cock lurch uncontrollably, exerting even greater pressure on the flushed entrance of her yearning vaginal orifice. Then she pulled his face to hers, smothering kisses over his lips and cheeks, spewing out her final utterance of surrender:
"Yes Steve! Do it to me! Do it to me now! Fuck me!"
Stephan was more than ready. His twitching cock felt as if it were a loaded rocket pointed straight up to the hair-fringed softness of his mother's cunt-lips, and her obscene writhing motions were almost more than he could stand. His throbbing cock-head was jammed hard against the furry warmth of her vagina and her hands played down over his buttocks, her fingertip moving into the crack of his ass to urge him even closer to the shattering entry that was to come. But for some reason it didn't seem to fit. He knew he had his cock-head up against her pussy, but he still hadn't quite found the hole.
Then a sigh of relief escaped Stephan's throat as his mother reached down between their bodies to take hold of his slender boyish cock in her hand.-"Yeah," he grunted, hunching forward again. "Put it in for me, Mom."
A moment later he felt an enveloping wetness seem to cover like honey and melted butter over his sensitive cock-tip. A low groan of submission escaped his mother's throat as she released her grasp on Stephan's surging male hardness. Then again her hands were on his buttocks, pulling him even more forcibly to her. With a gasp of wild conquest, Steve lunged his narrow hips with all his might against his mother's frantically squirming loins. He heard her breath escape as if she'd been hit in the stomach as his bulbous cock-head wedged itself up between her tightly resisting cunt-lips. And as she quivered in tension beneath him, he increased his bludgeoning pressure until the straining hardness of his pulsing cock forced its way slowly deeper, pushing away the last clinging remnants of resistance as if burrowed up into the moistly heated depths of her loins.
The lewdly shocking penetration seemed to go on for a small eternity, filling her endlessly as she lay quivering in the raw and tantalizing promise of release. At last she sighed and sank back on the bed, an exquisite feeling of warmth and inner satisfaction coming over her as Stephan's rigid young penis sank up into her cunt to the very hilt.
"Oooooh yes, baby, yessss," she purred, stroking softly over his back and buttocks as she held him far up inside her loins. Her beautiful mouth was loose and panting and she had a wide-eyed, wild-eyed, dazed animal look on her face. Her thighs scissored softly open and closed, her head flailed gently from side to side on the pillow, her hands clasped tighter to his buttocks as though to pull him even deeper up into her already obscenely skewered cunt. She was lost in the strange deluge of her unspent motherly passion, and she tightened her secret inner cunt-muscles warmly around Stephan's completely buried cock, purring in his ears in a voice that sounded hardly like her own:
"Now fuck me, Stevie. Fuck me until I die."
Stephan blinked, wondering if in her craziness she might be halfway serious. But that was the last thing he was worried about now. He'd gotten a woman, gotten his cock inside her cunt ... and the woman he was fucking was his own mother! All he could think about right now were the wonderful new sensations of the caressing of her cock-hungry pussy on the shaft of his flexing penis.
Then, as Jean's lips again lovingly sought out her young son's mouth, Stephan cautiously began to move. He lifted his buttocks awkwardly upward, feeling her warm inner flesh seem to close around his rock-hard cock, making it seem almost impossible for him to draw it out. And after he had pulled back, leaving only his pulsing young cock-head inside her streaming sheath, he lowered his buttocks slowly downwards again, hanging on for dear life as he felt her sucking inner muscles trying to draw him deep up into her, swallowing all of his cock and his sperm-bloated balls. Gradually, as he began to catch on, he increased the length and tempo of his impaling strokes.
The teenaged boy couldn't contain his own little whines of excitement as he began to buck his hips harder and fuck farther and deeper up into his mother's urgently squirming loins. He was panting heavily, perspiring profusely, and he savored the lingering copper penny-like taste of her vibrantly warm cunt juices in his mouth. His whole young body was trembling as he levered himself up on his elbows and stared down between his mother's squirming breasts at the sight of his juice-slickened cock-shaft pistoning in and out of the coral-hued slit of her hair-fringed cunt. And as he watched her joggling breasts beneath his face and gaped at the wet pink lips of her open-splayed cunt, his strong young chest almost burst with the thrill of possession. She was his! She was all his; all his mother's lovely surrendered and responding body was his to do with as he wished. She was submissively giving herself up to him completely, to be fucked without complaint, and the fact that it was his own mother instead of just any girl he could have met on the street made the thrill of his total conquest only that much more exciting.
Beneath him, Jean's raven-black eyes opened and closed in dazed and exquisite passion, and even in his own excitement Stephan wondered fleetingly if maybe he was hurting her. It seemed he was fucking into her so deep, all the way up to somewhere behind her navel, and the sounds she was making did sound like cries of pain. But, at this point, he didn't care; he couldn't have stopped if he'd wanted to, and, anyway, her cries sounded very much the same as the cries he'd heard when he was licking her succulent pussy.
"Oh yes, Stevie, yes! Fuck me like that, fuck me like that!" Jean whimpered as if she'd read his mind and wanted to free him from his concern. Then she groaned lecherously and shoved her pelvis up in a whirlingly rotating motion to meet his hard-thrusting strokes. By now her own loins and belly were a burning cauldron of lustfully seething sensations, and she felt as though in this ultimate act of surrender to her son, she was sinking finally and forever into a netherworld of perverted pleasure, of sin and degradation, a depraved and terrible pit from which she could never escape.
But right now the lusting young mother could not bring herself to feel the slightest remorse for her unspeakable offense. The deliciously frenzied movements of her son's turgid young cock jackhammering in and out of her lewdly stretched cunt impelled her closer and closer to the orgasm she'd missed last night, and she sensed that when she finally reached her ecstatic climax, it would probably tear her apart. God, her boy was so much like his father, gentle and violent at the same time, loving and domineering, handsome, as in love with her as she was in love with him. It was so good, so wonderful, and her eyelids fluttered as she twisted and writhed beneath him, lost in the frenzied intensity of her ever-mounting excitement as she held his punishing cock tightly clenched in the most secret crevices of her welcoming cunt.
Stephan felt the last of his own tenuous self-control slipping away. He knew that any moment he was going to shoot off right up inside his mother's cunt, and he felt that if he didn't his balls would blow apart. Then his muscles tensed and he moved suddenly into a series of longer and even more swiftly plunging strokes. He drew his pulsing hot rod of flesh almost all the way out of her vagina on the back-stroke and then sent it ramming back up into her to the hilt. He felt his balls slapping against the little puckered hole of her anus with his every lunge, and she thrashed even more rampantly beneath him in her own wanton animalistic response.
Jean's voluptuous writhing incited her young son, sweeping all else from his mind but the mad whirlwind of lust that drove him. The wet smack of his hips thudding against her upturned pelvis was growing louder by the minute, and he knew from her own wild humping movements and from the tormented moans welling ceaselessly from her throat she was going to cum any minute too.
Almost at that moment Jean had already begun to feel the first waves of the long-awaited orgasm surging throughout her body. As the intensity of her deep inner spasms increased, she wrapped her arms and legs even tighter around her son's pumping body, her hands grasping his buttocks to pull him even harder into her up-bucking loins. The straining springs of the bed squeaked in time to the two incestuous lovers' wildly bouncing movements, building to a crescendo as the last of their control gave way.
Suddenly Jean's body began to quiver in spasmodic contortions and a passionate glow brightened her face as her head flailed from side to side on the pillow. "Oh! I'm cumming. Steve! I'm cumminnnnggg."
Her sobbing moan rose to a breathless sigh of ecstasy. Her body stiffened and twitched in passion, her female fluids gushing wildly from her rippling loins to drown her son's impaling member in their moist and sticky warmth.
At the same instant Stephan felt his own climax suddenly burst up from the depths of his cum-bloated testicles. He jammed his heavily loaded cock all the way to the hilt up into the hotly contracting tightness of his mother's pussy, feeling his sperm erupt deep into her widely stretched vagina to mix deliciously with the juices of her own shattering and spasmodic release. Together they bucked and pounded themselves to spent exhaustion. Then he sank heavily on top of her, his mother hugging him lovingly to her breasts, showering kisses of gratitude on his face.
They lay like that for a long time before Steve withdrew his deflated member and slipped from between his half-sleeping mother's loins. She opened her eyes just as he went out the door. She lay waiting in curious apprehension until he returned, several minutes later. In his arms was a tray of coffee with sugar and cream.
"Breakfast in bed," he said brightly. "See," he explained, "now I'm the man of the house."
CHAPTER 10
Jean finished spreading the suntan lotion over her belly and thighs and the backs of her legs, then rolled onto her stomach on the quilt she used for her afternoon sunbathing and opened the latest copy of Ladies' Home Journal that had arrived in this morning's mail. Feeling the warming rays of the sun caress her already smoothly tanned skin, she began to thumb lazily through the magazine, concentrating on the pictures rather than the texts of the articles themselves. She drooled over a pineapple-garnished Virginia ham that looked good enough to eat right off the colored page. She envisioned herself strolling a Mediterranean beach in the latest thing in casual day-wear from France. An article by a woman with M.D. on the end of her name caused her to pause for a wry private smile. It was entitled "When To Tell Your Children The Truth About The Birds And The Bees". . Perhaps it was to her discredit that she was able to smile at that. Perhaps she should have felt remorse instead of amusement. A week had passed since she'd finally given in and let her son spend the night in her bed. And during that week both Jean and Stephan had settled comfortably into what must have been one of the most extraordinary living arrangements in all of central California. They were mother and son, man and woman. Jean had accepted and come to terms with her own terrible failing. She was living with it the only way she knew how. With Stephan.
Jean smiled with secret inner pleasure at the mere thought of her wonderful young son and lover. He was so good, so devoted, so adept and willing to learn in bed. He was so much like his father. And she knew, remembering Tom, that the time would come when she would no longer be able to keep him to herself. But for the time being he was still hers and hers alone. In fact, this was almost the first time they'd been separated since their incestuous idyll began. She had virtually cut
Adele out of her life and Stephan had quit seeing his bike-riding friends. It had been Steve who'd pointed out that this could conceivably cause suspicion, and yesterday afternoon when Bill Beamer had encountered him on the way back from the supermarket, Stephan had accepted his invitation that he go swimming with them this afternoon.
So Jean was left with a few hours to herself. But she was in no mood to confront Adele and she hadn't even bothered to stop over and say hello to her friend. Adele must certainly suspect something by now. The several times the blonde had come over Jean had feared she was going to come out and ask point blank. And Jean just didn't feel like discussing the situation with another woman. Even though Adele had as much as suggested the arrangement herself, the incestuous young mother doubted if she would completely understand or approve if she knew the extent to which she and Stephan had become romantically involved.
Jean read the first several lines of the article, the page tinted green by the dark shades she wore to protect her eyes from the sun. She concluded quickly enough that the information contained therein hardly applied to her and Stephan. She closed the magazine, removed her dark glasses and dropped her face sideways on the soft quilt. Her eyes closed and a restful happy smile adorned her lips.
It seemed but a few minutes later that Jean heard the roar of the motor bikes at the corner. She counted three of them and wondered who the other belonged to, provided that was Bill and his friends bringing Stephan home already. She waited with baited breath as the bikes) drew closer to the house, then heard them stop outside. Steve, was back much earlier than she'd expected, but she certainly had no objection to that.
Remaining still in the prone position on her belly, the sensuously voluptuous brunette woman waited with her eyes still closed. Her back was completely bare except for the thin string of the bikini strap and the little bikini bottom perched low on her hips and revealing several forbidden inches of the crack between her ass-cheeks at the top. Her thighs were long, deeply tanned and slightly parted, and she felt a little tingle of relish deep up in her loins as she thought of the inviting picture her prone body would present to her young son when he emerged from the back of the house.
Jean listened impatiently for the sound of the bikes being started up again, but it was not forthcoming. The boys must be sitting out front talking, she thought, for she hadn't heard the sound of the front door being opened and closed. But, she added silently, she really needn't be so impatient. She and Stephan still had the better part of the afternoon to themselves, and all of the evening if they needed.
Gradually Jean became aware of the almost silent footsteps coming toward her on the soft dry grass. Her face still turned to the side on the quilt, she opened her eyes. Her breathing was gentle and soft and she lay relaxed on her belly. She could almost feel Stephan's eyes on her back, devouring the softness of her ripely offered buttocks hardly concealed by the scarf-like little garment that covered them. She watched the shadow of his head and shoulders move past her face on the grass, extending longer and longer out before her eyes as he approached.
"You're back early," she said with soft invitation. "I'm glad. I was getting lonely without you ... Hey, rub a little suntan lotion on my back, would you?"
The shadow disappeared as its antecedent knelt beside her on the ground. Jean heard the bottle of suntan lotion being shaken, felt its oily coolness on her skin as experienced fingers touched her back, spreading the lotion massage-like into her soft flesh, working lower and lower down the sensitively indented line of her spine, down, down toward that forbidden dark little crack above the bikini bottom lying low on the softness of her buttocks.
She closed her eyes contentedly, a languid sigh escaping from her throat. "Ooooh, that feels so good, Stephan. I love the way you rub that oil on my back."
The hand moved lower, the fingers working down over her half-exposed buttocks and dipping seductively down into the little crack beneath the bikini bottom itself. She savored the pleasing touch for a last exquisite moment. Then belatedly warned by a sixth sense, her mind perceived the slight strangeness in the touch of the hand on her buttocks. As she opened her eyes, she saw the other two shadows stretched out on the ground before her and she caught the faint whiff of alcohol-odored breath on the air. Giving out a soft, frightened cry, she rolled suddenly onto her back, staring up in shock and horror at the sight that greeted her.
Bill Beamer was squatted beside the quilt with the bottle of suntan oil in his hand. Standing just back of him was Jimmy, whose surname she still didn't know, and another boy she'd only seen a couple of times when she drove past the drive-in where the boys sometimes hung out. In her embarrassment and her surprise and perhaps even fear, she centered her attention on the stranger and said absurdly, "Who are you?"
"This is another of your son's friends Mrs. Clayton. Danny Jarvis."
"Hello Mrs. Clayton, I'm pleased to meet you," the boy said, moving a step closer. He was almost as big as Bill, and he had that same world-wise look of knowledge in his eyes, a knowledge that during another now almost forgotten era of her life had been the source of her apprehension about the new friends her innocent young son had chosen to spend his time with.
"But ... where is Stevie?" she gasped, still so completely rattled her mind seemed to seize on questions that had nothing to do with the real crux of the situation in which she found herself.
"Stevie ain't here. We came by here to see him," Bill explained. "But instead we saw you and you're a lot prettier than Steve."
The reference seemed to remind Jean of her state of near-undress. The bikini she was wearing was so skimpy she would never have had the nerve to go out in it to a public swimming pool, and she suddenly felt a desperate urge to cover her body from the three boys' leering eyes. In a futile and belated attempt at modesty, she crossed one of her slender forearms over her scarcely concealed breasts and let the other one lay down over the triangle of flimsy material nestled so invitingly between her thighs.
"What do you want?" she gasped, feeling totally helpless before the three big teenagers.
"We'll keep you company till your son gets back," Bill said with a lascivious grin.
"Yeah," added Jimmy. "You said you were lonely."
Jean's eyes focused on the bottle of suntan lotion in the dark-haired youngster's hand. A flush of shame rushed to her face as she remembered the feel of his hands on her body. My God, she thought, so embarrassed she could have died. He was touching her all over, even down on the half-exposed fullness of her buttocks, right down into the tight little crack in between. And she had enjoyed it ... and let him know she enjoyed it. Because it had felt good and because she thought it was Stephan.
Oh, what on earth have I done? she cried to herself silently.
Then as Bill laughed raucously into her face, Jean caught another whiff of the alcohol on his breath. She saw the tell-tale assured way he was looking at her. She remembered the naturalness with which he'd moved his hand to the more private flesh of her buttocks when she'd asked only that the lotion be spread on her back. It was as if he had known what was happening between her and Stephan ... and there was only one person from whom he could have found out about that!
"Did ... did Stephan tell you something?" she gasped, realizing from the smile of satisfaction and awareness that crept over Bill's face that the question should never have been asked.
"Tell us what?"
"Nothing," she said in a croak.
"Stephan didn't have to tell us anything," Jimmy put in as though in Stevie's defense.
"That's right, Mrs. Clayton," confirmed Bill. "He didn't say a word. But when a boy starts getting ass the first time in his life it's easy enough for someone else who's been through the same thing to tell. And it was damned sure he wasn't getting it anywhere in this town but here."
Getting ass? Jean thought. How dare they refer to what was happening between her and Stephan in those vulgar and debasing terms? Who and what did they think she was anyway? She had asked the question and the most obvious answer came back. They must think she was the cheapest and sluttiest woman in the world, and deep down inside herself she knew with a sinking feeling that they were right.
Then as Jean looked again at the drunkenness mirrored in Bill's leering eyes, and looked at each of the other two teenagers and realized from their hungry expressions that they were equally intoxicated, she had the first inkling that she was actually in physical danger.
Her heart pounding in her scarcely concealed breasts, Jean scrambled shakily to her feet, still acutely aware of her lewd state of near-undress and of the way the boys were taking in her softly exposed, oil-shining skin.
"I ... I want you to go," she stammered. "I want you to go right now."
"We'll go," Bill said, firmly seizing her wrist.
"No," she said, her voice raising. "I want you to go away from here. I don't know what you're talking about with your filthy assertions but if you don't leave this minute I'll call the police and have you arrested for ... for profanity in ... in the presence of a lady."
Bill smiled, his eyes dropping briefly to the up-crested mounds of Jean's voluptuous breasts, her hard swollen little nipples pricking visibly up in the flimsy material of the tiny halter that covered them. Then he looked back at her face. "You're gonna have us arrested for using profanity in the presence of ... a lady?"
She screamed once, loud and desperate: "Adele!"
There was no answer. Tears filling her eyes and spilling down her cheeks, she followed without struggle as Bill led her across the yard and up the steps into the backdoor of the house. The other youngsters came right behind her, their greedy eyes comsuming her scarcely protected ass-cheeks.
"Where's the bedroom?" Bill asked when they were inside the house.
"The end of the hall," Jean said with a sob. Mutely she was accepting the fact she was about to be raped. She was dazed, stunned. She knew it was real and yet she could hardly believe it. She knew the boys wanted her, she knew they were strong enough to take her. She knew that with the information they had about her, even if they still lacked final proof, they would settle for nothing less than exactly what they had come here for. And never before in her life had Jean submitted to anything like this. There were three of them, almost strangers. And once Bill had had her, she knew with a dull aching throb far up inside her loins that the other two wouldn't be satisfied with merely having listened or watched. They would both want their turns.
Still holding firmly to her wrist, Bill led her down the hall and through the door to her room. The other two teenagers came eagerly in behind them. Through her narrowed, stunned eyes Jean glimpsed the photograph of her dead husband on the nightstand beside the bed. Looking the other way, she saw her own voluptuously exposed body in the mirror. Her little bikini looked as insignificant and useless as the flimsiest see-through underwear, and the suntan lotion that covered her exposed deeply tanned skin gave her the appearance of an oiled slave stripped for torture.
Then she shivered with an overwhelming sense of helplessness as the trio of boys moved in around her. She gazed at them in utter desperation, her eyes pleading for mercy and finding none in theirs. And then suddenly the three of them were on her, their hands pawing at the sensuously exposed curves of her flesh, tearing at the flimsy two little garments that were all that protected her from their greedy eyes. She was completely outnumbered and demoralized and she knew there was no way to resist. She stood almost passively as their hands clawed over the softness of her body, as her little halter fell away from her breasts and her bikini bottom dropped from her loins and she stood completely naked before them, futilely trying to conceal the lushly swelling curves of her flesh with her hands as her mind hazily grasped the reality of what they were about to do.
Then the boys backed up and began pulling their own clothes off. The sight was almost too much for the beaten young widow, and she gaped in stunned amazement as one after another of them revealed their muscular young bodies to her frightened stare. She gawked at the exposure of Bill Beamer's rippling torso and back, noting with a little sob as he removed his trousers and shorts that his penis was almost twice as big as Steve's. Turning her eyes toward Jimmy, she saw that he was almost equally endowed. Then as the third boy pulled down his shorts an involuntary gasp burst to the stripped woman's lips.
"No!" she cried in horror. "I can't. I can't take that!"
Jean had never seen such a cock in her life. It made even her husband Tom seem small in comparison, and it was less than fully erect. No woman could have taken it inside her, and with a conscious effort, Jean forced her eyes away and tried to get her panic in check.
"One of you guys better loosen her up first," Danny suggested, then sensing her fear looked consolingly at Jean. "Don't worry, Ma'am, I'll be gentle with you when it comes my turn."
"I'll take her first," said Jimmy.
Jean was floundering in helpless confusion as
Bill Beamer pushed her down on her back on the bed and she watched his friend climb up between her already parted thighs. She couldn't imagine how she'd ever let Stephan associate with these immoral teenagers and she realized that was probably her first mistake. She shuddered and clenched her eyes shut in shame as she felt Jimmy's hands dancing with surprising gentleness over the sensitive surfaces of her breasts and down toward her exposed and parted thighs. A slight unwanted tremor of excitement rippled through her body in sheer physical response to the sexual stimulation. Then she blinked with surprise as Jimmy dropped down on top of her and planted his lips almost affectionately over her slightly open mouth.
As he kissed her, his hands crept up higher between her thighs and it was only as his fingers came into contact with the teasing little bud of her clitoris and the softly parted lips of her cunt that she realized that as a defense mechanism her genitals had already begun to lubricate themselves as though in anticipation of the cruel rape to which they were about to be subjected.
But that was the only explanation for the physical enigma unless ... unless she was becoming subconsciously excited by the prospect of what was about to happen to her!
Jean almost died of shame as that shocking thought crossed her mind, and yet as though in confirmation of her depraved response a spontaneous cry of passion rose unbidden to her lips as she felt Jimmy carefully part the soft folds of her sensuous secret flesh with his hands and begin to worm his long middle finger straight up into the quivering sheath of her loins.
Oh my God, she thought. It was true. She did want it. She wanted a cock up inside her even if it wasn't Stephan's, and with that realization her self-loathing almost caused her to blank out her mind. Then she cried out from the sensation of Jimmy's lips moving down to her full voluptuous breasts, sucking one of her already lewdly swollen nipples hungrily up into his warm mouth.
As the helplessly aroused brunette widow splayed her legs out wider on the bed, the teenager who was mounted on top of her levered farther up between her thighs. Jimmy had never been anywhere close to fucking a woman as grown-up and sexy as Mrs. Clayton before, and he felt like his balls were going to burst if he didn't get his cock up inside her quickly. And besides, he'd seen the look on Bill's face when he had offered to go first, and he knew if he spent much more time fooling around like this the bigger boy would throw him off and take first turn himself. But Bill went first every time they gang-banged a girl and Jimmy was getting tired of sloppy seconds.
Without further preliminaries, Jimmy seized his rigidly throbbing prick and guided it straight up toward Stephan's mother's already excitedly waiting vagina. He rammed his bulging cock-head hard up against her, his body slapping hard against her belly as his granite-hard maleness savagely speared as deep as it would go up into her defenselessly quivering cunt. His balls smacked with a thud down into the crack of her cowering buttocks, and he lay still and firmly embedded up inside her to the very hilt for a couple of seconds before he drew back for another even more deeply impaling thrust.
"Uuugghhhh!" Jean grunted from the torturing stimulation as the warm inner walls of her pussy flowered wetly over the ravaging cock-shaft that invaded deep up into her fearful loins. Jimmy's massive cock surged in and out of the deepest sensitive area of her inner loins and her wetness surrounded it like a glove, lubricating it freely with every plunging stroke. She stared back with glossed eyes as the youngster ground his teenaged pelvis down against her squirming flesh. She arched her quaking loins, uncontrollably beginning to writhe and undulate in unwanted response, lifting both their bodies and almost tossing him off her with her wild buckings up from the bed.
Now she was really getting into the act. Her traitorous body was reacting against her will and in spite of her terror and all her shame and indignation, she opened her mouth greedily to suck in Jimmy's tongue as again he kissed her on the lips. Then as he continued to thrust with rhythmic abandon on her passionately writhing body, she felt his pistoning cock lurch suddenly harder up in her belly and begin without warning to spew its white-hot liquid cum far up into the most hidden recesses of her lust-tortured womb. Spurt after spurt of his sticky cum ricocheted against the walls of her stretched vaginal passage, almost drowning her in its creamy flowing warmth as she jerked and writhed in her own frenzied response.
Then as suddenly as it had started it was over. Jean's eyes opened and she stared up in stunned shock as she felt the boy groan and sag down heavily on top of her. And even though she continued to writhe and strain beneath him, she could feel his penis beginning to deflate in her loins.
"Damn it," Jimmy grunted into her ear. "I slipped. I fucking slipped."
"Oh! Oh my God," Jean wailed in her desperate frustration. "Don't stop! Please don't stop!"
"He's already stopped," said Bill. "See ass-hole, you should have waited for seconds like always. Let me get it slicked up first so it wouldn't feel so tight. Get out of the way and let Danny give her a try."
Danny? In her helpless surrender to her unwanted lust, the very futility of her hopeless situation had instilled in her a masochistic greed to be filled by cock, and she'd almost forgotten the awesome sight of Danny's ponderous cock that had so frightened her a few moments ago. Now, as Bill pulled Jimmy physically away from between her thighs, and she felt his deflated penis slip out of her loins with a sucking little pop, the memory of the other boy's enormous member returned to her terrified mind with devastating force. The mere vision of it was almost more than she could confront, and a little cry of panic rose in her throat even before she turned her face sideways on the bed to take another fearful look.
Tears of fury and desperation were rolling down her face while her treacherous body was still writhing and squirming in naked lust and frustration. Her cunt was a steaming inferno of need that twitched and trembled far up inside like a nerve gone out of control. It was aching to be filled and plundered until the gnawing want in her loins was sated, and her muscles felt so tense she thought they might snap if she didn't get another cock into her soon. But even in all her desperation she almost died of fear at the sight that greeted her.
Now Danny Jarvis's cock was almost erect and it was really a magnificent sight to behold. In a mind-boggling awful way it was even almost beautiful. It reached out from his body like the arm of a crane balanced with two heavy round weights at the back. It was so large it was hard for her to even imagine it was actually real. It looked to her terrified eyes like a gigantic mock-up of an interstellar rocket, but as Danny flexed his muscles and it jerked to even greater rigidity, she knew without doubt that it was real, and it was alive, and it was surging with a menacing fury that seemed all its own, as if the slick slitted glans at the tip were an eye that could see and long for her helpless waiting body.
"Don't be afraid, Ma'am," Danny said in apology. "I promised I'd be as gentle as I could but I really can't help it if I'm a little better hung than some people."
Then he was on the bed, levering up over her. Jean closed her eyes as though she hoped she could make him disappear, remarking silently that he seemed strikingly sensitive of nature in contrast to his physical endowment. A soft whimper escaped her as he seized her arms and pinioned them above her head. Then the terrifying shaft of his cock brushed obscenely along her soft inner thighs and suddenly she opened her eyes and cried out:
"I can't. No, please! I can't take it. Please. Make him go. Please!" He was going to try to fuck her with that monstrous young cock, and even in her all-consuming lust she knew it would be more than she could bear. His massive cock would rip her apart at the seams. "Please," Jean whimpered feebly. "I can't. I can't take it."
"Sure you can," said Bill Beamer. "Go ahead, Danny. Give it to her!"
As Jean shuddered in trembling terror, the superbly endowed youngster inched slowly up her body. His thickly palpitating cock brushed threateningly at her inner thighs, then lurched even harder to prod his knob-like cock-head up against the entrance to her pussy. Struggling beneath him, she kicked her legs up in the air in hopeless defense, and deftly he ducked beneath them, pinning the backs of her knees with his shoulders to push her onto an even more helplessly jackknifed position beneath him that completely exposed and opened the fearfully quivering plane of her cunt to the obscene ravishment to which it was about to be forcibly subjected.
She couldn't get away and suddenly every muscle in her body felt as though it were being stretched beyond belief. She felt in her mingled terror and lust as though she were under some kind of spell, and she could only quiver in submission as she felt his bludgeoning cock-head probing at the entrance to her warm cuntal opening and holding itself poised for an almost unbearable moment before the spongy mushroom-shaped tip of the boy's menacing cock nosed threateningly forward against the hotly quavering hair-fringed flanges of her defenseless flesh.
Then, still holding her arms pinioned above her head, Danny mercilessly lunged forward. An agonizing hiss issued from Jean's lips and she quivered in suspended disbelief as she felt the sudden brutal pressure increasing between her thighs. Then she grunted as the blood-filled tip of Danny's stallion-like penis raged relentlessly up into the soft fleshy folds of her cringing cunt-lips.
"Uuuuagggggghhhhh!" she groaned in torment, tossing her head from side to side as the painfully ruthless penetration continued.
Danny flexed his buttocks, twitching his lust-inflamed hardness several inches deeper up inside her.
"Noooooo," Jean cried fearfully. "Stop it, my God! It's too big!"
She didn't doubt for a minute she would be ripped up the middle by the boy's prodigious instrument, and she felt like she was being assaulted by some terrible weapon from an ancient torture chamber. But the lewdly merciless invasion of her helpless loins continued, and she was only vaguely aware of the other two boys crowding close to the bed to watch, their hands exploring feverishly over her body, tearing at her breasts, scratching over the soft sensitive skin of her thighs. She knew nothing but the endlessly tormenting penetration of her ravished loins, and she wept in a terrified hysteria of anguish as Danny's monstrous penis plowed deeper and deeper up into the narrowly resisting passage of her vulnerable cunt, forcing rippling waves of her lewdly stretched flesh aside as the massive shaft gouged brutally into her anguished depths.
Then it stopped. With a buttocks-crushing jolt the boy's hips slammed against her ass-cheeks and his immense sperm-filled testicles slapped wetly into the crevice between them, slapping obscenely against her sensitive little anus.
"Got her!" Bill" said as if the triumph were his own. "Now make room for me, I'm coming into her mouth."
CHAPTER ll
Adele emerged slowly from the murky hollows of sleep. Lying naked on her back on her bed, she opened her eyes and stared up at the ceiling. The she looked down at the full nipple-peaked mounds of her breasts and between them the blonde triangle of the hair of her cunt. She moved her hands up to her voluptuously inviting mounds, her fingers tweaking her sensitive nipples to even greater tingling erection. Her hands moved lower, her breath gusting softly from her throat in response to her auto-stimulation. She'd had a pleasant dream, the kind she enjoyed the most, and she was slightly excited sexually as she remembered it. But she couldn't quite focus the dream in her mind. The image was marred by another gnawing presence. First, the vague remembrance of a scream came slowly back.
Suddenly wide awake, the voluptuous buxom blonde sat straight up in bed. Has she dreamed the scream? She didn't know, but the more she thought about it, the more sure she was she'd actually heard it. It seemed even to have awakened her for a moment, but she'd dozed back off before she'd really grasped what it was. But now she was almost certain. She had heard a scream!
Her anxiety rising, Adele leaped from the bed and went over to the chest of drawers. She put on the top of her bikini, not bothering to look for anything more concealing. The without bothering with her panties she wriggled into a pair of tight-fitting shorts. She went to the back door of the house and looked across the fence into Jean's yard, where she'd seen the sexy brunette sunbathing just before she'd started her nap.
The quilt on which her neighbor had lain was still there, along with a magazine and the sun glasses she'd worn, but Jean was nowhere to be seen. The concerned blonde turned away and walked barefoot down the hall to the front of the house. Parked in the driveway of her friend's house were three motor bikes. Stephan's friends' bikes.
But Stephan's friends hadn't been coming around since ... since whatever was going on over there had started. Funny, Adele thought, closing the door and starting back in. Then she stopped, the wound of the scream still lingering in her mind like a grim harbinger of catastrophe.
"I heard the goddamn thing," she said aloud to herself. "I know I heard it. The hell with it," she added under her breath, deciding there certainly would be no harm in checking.
Adele went out the back door and down the steps. She cut across Jean's drive and stopped in her tracks, her mouth dropping open wide as she heard Jean's voice out the bedroom window at the back corner of the house:
"I can't. I can't take both of you at once."
Adele didn't have too many interests in life other than sex, and there was only one way in which a woman like her could interpret a statement like that. She'd done it herself, more than once, and the first couple of times she found herself in a situation where there was more than one man to be satisfied, she might have said almost the same thing. And though it boggled her limits of belief, she recognized in no uncertain terms the tell-tale quiver in Jean's voice. Stunned, she looked back at the three bikes parked in the drive. She turned back toward the window. Should she get into her neighbor's house? But, just as she was turning hesitantly, she glimpsed the familiar figure of Jean's son Steve rounding the corner at the end of the block.
Quickly the sexy blonde housewife moved back out of his view. She hesitated for a moment, not sure what to do. But she had to see for herself. Even though she knew, she had to see it with her own eyes, and hurriedly she went along the edge of the house.
She took a quick look in, her eyes widening at the two naked boys in bed with Jean and the other standing just beside watching them, and Jean's body was writhing and twisting on the bed, her thighs scissoring open and closed in the air about the flanks of the youngster who was fucking her. For a minute Adele had an urge to go into the house and get in on the fun. Then she remembered Stephan.
It took the voluptuous blonde only a split second to make her decision. Stephan couldn't be allowed to see what was happening to his mother. For his sake, and Jean's as well, he had to be stopped, distracted, and Adele could think of only one sure way to do it.
Inspired by the urgency of her mission, Adele rushed through the gate back into her own yard. She entered the back door of her house and ran down the hall to the front, threw it open and leaned out onto the porch just as Stephan was passing in front.
"Stephan! Stephan, would you come here a minute, please!"
The youngster looked up with surprise, then curiously back at the three bikes, then again at Adele. "I think I've got company," he said, his voice obviously troubled by something.
"Well they can wait. Come here, Stephan. Come on."
Adele smiled invitingly as the young boy came up the walk. She retreated into the house, holding open the door with one hand while she reached up behind her back with the other. By the time he entered she had loosened the strap. Stephan's eyes bugged as she shrugged her shoulder and her flimsy garment fluttered away, completely exposing her naked breasts.
* * *
Inside the other house, Jean was in a situation like none she'd ever experienced before in her whole life. She'd hardly even accepted the unnatural invasion of her loins by Danny Jarvis's outlandish cock, before a second boy had climbed onto the bed and announced he was going to fuck her in the mouth. And worst of all, he hadn't been kidding. As she lay waiting in helpless surrender, Danny's massive penis still ruthlessly impaled up inside the velvety warmth of her loins, Bill Beamer climbed up and positioned himself on his knees above her face, his knee planted against her upward stretching arm, and one of his hands seizing his own ample cock to aim it straight down at her defenseless face.
Then her attention was drawn away from that impending indignity, as Danny, mounted up between her thighs, flexed his massively plundering cock deep up inside her cunt, and a little tremor of fiery passion shot spontaneously through her loins. Clenching her teeth against the maddening exciting sensation, Jean stared up at the throbbing cock looming only inches above her vulnerable hips.
"Big, isn't it Mrs. Clayton," Danny bragged with another flexing motion that almost caused the distraught brunette to cry out. Then before she had time to adjust herself to that increase in the level of sensation, the stallion-hung youngster began to move.
Danny Jarvis knew he'd hurt Mrs. Clayton with his initial entry but he was used to that, and already he was feeling her cruelly stretched cuntal passage beginning to adjust to his obscene invasion. She was ready to fuck, or as ready as she would ever be, and he started slowly to move his hips in a sensual rhythm, grinding his huge penis tightly up into her nakedly cringing pussy, stretching the feverishly clasping walls until his pulsing shaft fitted snugly as a sword in its sheath. And as the helpless woman's resistance gave way, he groaned from the easing of the almost intolerable pressure around his punishing rod of rigid cock-flesh, gasping with relief as he began a slow in-and-out fucking motion above the dark-haired woman pinioned helplessly beneath him.
The torturous pain Jean had experienced moments ago seemed now to be miraculously fading, and though she felt certain the size of her vagina must have been altered for life by what she'd already suffered, she couldn't quite quell the little surges of contrasting pleasure that began to scurry through her loins. Her outrageous subjugation and degradation had triggered a strange masochistic response which stirred through her loins. She was being fucked, even if it wasn't by Stephan. She had a cock inside her, and her tormented vagina has swallowed its prodigious bulk to the very hilt ... and she felt a crazy sort of triumph. Her traitorous body was responding contrary to all moral considerations of the depravity of what was happening to her, and in spite of her shame, she began to forget everything but the rejuvenated promise of release that was building like wildfire through her skewered loins.
Then as though to dare the devil himself, the wantonly responding brunette made a cautious attempt at movement of her own, slowly rotating her buttocks to follow the rhythm of the teenaged boy's raping cock which was pistoning in and out of her vagina. And when she discovered this didn't hurt, she ground her hips up with increasingly lustful speed. She pushed the challenge to the hilt in her obscene compulsion to be pleased and to please, and in moments she was matching the obscenely racking lunges of the grunting boy mounting her from above.
"Oh yes," she whimpered out in surrender. "Yes fuck me, you big brute. Fuck me, fuck me!"
The lasciviously aroused brunette undulated her body hungrily beneath the boy's ravishing assault. Now she was really lost, almost unconscious with delight at the continually merciless assault on her loins and cunt and the anonymous hands pawing eagerly over her softly perspiring body. She couldn't have fought back if she wanted to. She was trapped and helpless and she endured her punishment with masochistic relish as the wanton subjugation continued.
"Oh, don't stop," she cried. "Don't ever stop." She chanted out her surrender in a torrent of desire, twirling and humping her nakedly upturned ass-cheeks faster and faster to keep pace with the skewering piston of flesh surging massively in and out of her cunt. Then gradually she became aware of the movement near her head, and when she looked up, a soft cry escaped her as she saw that Bill had bent his lust-swollen cock-shaft straight down at her face. He was leaning over her so close the blood-filled tip of his cock-head was dripping seminal fluid toward her lips, but she was so dazed from her passion she didn't even bother to protest.
She flicked her tongue teasingly from her lips, circling it in a slow movement over the boy's spongy cock-head, then as Bill leaned forward, holding his weight up on one hand planted on the bed, she opened her lips wide and sucked his bulbous cock-head into the damp warmth of her mouth. She was about to start to suck when the youngster grunted and withdrew his cock from between her clasping lips.
"Doesn't work like this!" he gasped. "Danny's too tall and we're just going to get in each other's way. Better turn her over and do the damned thing right."
Jean didn't resist as Danny abruptly withdrew his turgid cock and she was rolled to a prone position on her belly. Bill instructed her to kneel up and put her ass in the air and she willingly complied. She knelt swaying on all fours, her sex-obsessed brain reeling with all the effort of keeping her body in position as her two young aggressors moved into position fore and aft. She gasped slightly as she felt Danny's massive penis surge back into place between her open thighs from behind. Then with a loud grunt, he shoved forward and impaled her body once more on his enormously hardened cock, the shattering impact of his thrust causing her to jerk forward on the bed in retreat.
And as she did so her shocked face ran directly into the boy's erected cock looming up from his thickly-haired loins as he kneeled before her. She felt his rigid cock shove without warning against her lips, and in a spontaneous reflex, she opened her mouth, feeling the pulsing cock-shaft plow the full distance along the length of her saliva-moistened tongue. She could taste the lewdly seeping seminal fluid that continued to ooze from the glans at the tip, spilling out into the warm cavern between her cheeks with its salty tasting pungence as the teenaged boy's massive erection plowed to the back of her throat, and she gagged, nearly choking on the mouth-filling penis.
Now Jean was helplessly sandwiched between the two boys, and almost immediately the two of them began a simultaneous fucking in and out of her loins. Dazed by the sheer quantity of conflicting sensations, the degraded mother was vaguely aware of the swinging balls slapping against her throat and the pubic hair grazing her nose as Bill Beamer shoved his turgid cock into her mouth. She gasped for breath, groaning about the pummeling cock-shaft as she was racked back and forth. Her captive body was being used like a helpless receptacle into which they would both pump all their building sperm, and the very humiliation of being exploited so obscenely seemed only to excite her the more. The desire in her belly mushroomed in an outrageous cloud of lust, and she resumed the circular undulations of her buttocks, rocking back hard onto the pile-driving cock skewering into her from behind as she sucked in warm subservience on the other rigid cock fucking into her mouth.
Jack-hammering his massive cock into her nakedly exposed pussy from the rear, Danny was building rapidly toward his own wild ejaculation. Stephan's mother's pussy was just too deliciously tight on his giant hardness, and he began to bang mercilessly against the softly yielding crevice of her loins. He gripped her jerking buttocks to squeeze them to him, looking down in gloating triumph as she eagerly responded.
Before her, Bill was fucking furiously between her lips, and the saliva that filled Jean's contorted mouth was becoming thick with the emissions of seminal fluid that still seeped profusely from the top of the boy's cock. His rock-hard shaft was buried in her mouth to the hilt, and she could feel the muscles straining in his thighs as he lunged harder and harder between her parted teeth. His fingers had seized her long black hair to hold her face warmly to his loins and guide the sucking movements of her lips up and down the thrusting rod of his wildly fucking cock.
The ravished brunette could feel her own excitement mounting more and more as the young boy's penis seemed to throb and thicken granite hard in her ill-used mouth. He was shoving his turgid penis all the way to her tonsils, and she had never felt so helpless and victimized in all her life. And yet every moment seemed to bring her nearer and nearer to the ecstatic peak of the climax she craved, and she sucked with a vengeance as she wiggled her buttocks back in frenzied abandon for the benefit of the other boy fucking her from behind.
Then almost simultaneous with the rising tide of her own incipient climax, Jean felt Danny's cock suddenly distend to even larger dimensions, and she felt as if her thighs were being ripped apart as the excited youth rammed powerfully up into her, shoving as deep as he could go as he turned loose his control and began to spew his teeming load of white-hot cum up into her contracting cuntal softness.
Feeling his release, she lunged back frenziedly in response to the seething cum-fluids flooding up into her hotly dilated womb. She was filled until she thought she would burst, and she could feel the creamy liquid dribbling back out of the hair-lined lips of her cunt and spilling down her thighs.
Then Bill let go in front of her, his pulsing cock bursting forth and erupting like an oil well deep into her mouth to fill her cheeks with his pungently boiling liquid, forcing her to swallow madly to keep from choking on the fiery gushes of the young boy's sperm. She clasped her lips tightly around the lurching base of his erupting cock, sucking and gurgling and swallowing until she thought she would milk him dry, continuing all the time to skewer her hips hungrily back onto the monstrously slamming penis that still emptied its hot load of sperm deep up into the eagerly working wetness of her cunt from behind.
And with a wail from between her own clenched teeth, she felt her body soar up and explode in what seemed like an elaborate fireworks display. Her belly filled with a raw ecstasy and her brain whirled deliriously in the orgasmic passion of her frenzied release. Then abruptly her strength left her and she collapsed between the boys. Thin glistening strands of viscous milky liquid connected her lips to the deflating cock that slipped from her mouth, and she felt a cool waft of refreshing air as Danny withdrew his nearly flaccid cock from her cunt. She collapsed tiredly on her side and lay beautifully sated on the bed.
As the three boys got dressed to leave, she almost drifted off to sleep.
CHAPTER 12
Jean was snapped back to consciousness by the starting of the motor bikes. She sat up on the edge of the bed, feeling completely degraded and soiled. Looking across at her reflection in the dresser mirror she hardly recognized the face staring back at her. And she realized she had to do something to pull herself together, not to mention getting the rumpled bed in order, before Stephan got back. But she felt as if she could never really erase the damage done to her today. She felt as if the hidden scars of her debauched orgy would show always, for anybody sensitive enough to see them.
Jean fled naked to the bath and took a quick shower, then slipped back into the room, got into a light housecoat, and set about changing the spread on the bed. She was just finishing when she heard the front door open and Steve came into the house.
"Mom?" he called. "You here?"
"I'll be right there, Stevie."
Jean made a couple of last adjustments on the bed, looked at herself in the mirror and smoothed her wet hair back off her face, then walked out of her room and down the hall to the den. Steve was in the kitchen inspecting the refrigerator. Jean stopped in the doorway, intentionally letting the flimsy robe hang partially open at the neck, clinging sexily to the lush curves of her still damp body. She didn't know how, after what had happened, she would ever be able to look him in the eye again, and she almost felt a compulsion to make a total confession of what she'd done right there, falling at his feet and begging forgiveness. But as he closed the refrigerator door and turned slowly toward her, she noted that his eyes were avoiding hers.
Jean nervously moistened her lower lip, staring curiously at her son. He looked sheepish, or worried, or ... ashamed. He looked ashamed and guilty. For a brief terrible instant she imagined he already knew about the lewd orgy in which she'd just participated, but she instantly rejected that possibility. He certainly couldn't have found out that fast, and in any event if he had even the slightest idea of how she had spent the afternoon he wouldn't be acting guilty.
"I ... uh ... I just got back," Stephan said, looking at the floor and fidgeting nervously with his hands. "I missed Bill and the guys so I ... uh ... went to a movie."
Jean almost cried out just at the mention of the other boy's name. Instead she managed in a shakey voice. "I hope you enjoyed it."
"Yeah. Yeah, it was a good film. Uh ... what were the guys doing here? I saw the bikes."
"The color faded from the guilty mother's face. "You saw the bikes?"
"Well, I mean ... what were they doing here?"
Jean thought she could have died. If he had gotten back in time to see the bikes then he must have seen ... Oh, it was just too terrible for words. "How long have you been here?" she gasped. "Stephan! How long have you been here?"
Stephan swayed nervously on his feet. Almost, he was wringing his hands. "Adele told me about the bikes."
"What were you doing at Adele's? How long have you been here?"
Stephan kicked at the floor as if at an invisible stick. "Aw Mom, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it. She did it. Honest, I just couldn't stop myself once she got it started."
Jean let her breath out long and slow. "Adele? What happened at Adele's? What are you trying to tell me?"
"Shit. You would have found out anyway." He looked at her for a moment and then shamefully looked away. "I was just walking down the street and I was in a big hurry because I saw the bikes here and I figured ... well, I figured the guys were here to see me. And then Adele called me in and "when I got to the door she just..."
His voice trailed off. "What Stephan?" Jean coaxed though she felt sure she already knew.
"It was crazy. She just took off her bikini top and stood there in nothing but her shorts. And she took me by the hand and pulled me in and even when I tried to pull away she wouldn't let me go. She held me and begged me to stay and kept sticking her tit in my mouth and grabbing my hand and pulling it down to her ... her cunt." He shook his head. For a moment Jean thought he was going to cry. "Mom, I mean it. She ... she raped me. And not just once. She raped me twice."
That hideous foul-minded bitch! Jean mumbled to herself, her anger making it impossible for her to even think. She would kill her. Something like that would be enough to scar a boy for life, and she would kill her with her own bare hands if she had to.
"She wouldn't leave me alone and she wouldn't let me go. Not until after we heard the bikes starting up. The she said she was sorry and turned me loose."
Jean thought her legs were going to buckle beneath her. So that was why. Adele must have known what was happening over here. She'd employed the only means she could think of to keep Stephan from walking in on something that would have scarred him even more seriously than being attacked by the-likes of Adele. And Stephan had admitted what had happened because by questioning him he thought she was cross-examining him, because he felt guilty for what he had done. And all she'd been worried about was her own guilt.
She knew that right now, while there was still a chance he would forgive her, she should tell him exactly what it was Adele had wanted to prevent him from seeing. Instead she said with affected sternness, "The boys wondered why they missed you. I had them in for cokes because I thought you might come back here."
Even as she told the lie Jean knew that it would be only a matter of time before he found out the truth.
* * *
He found out the next afternoon.
Jean had been waiting on edge all through the day. Steve had sheepishly asked if she minded if he went to the swimming pool after they had finished eating a tense lunch together the next day. He was still feeling very ashamed of what had happened with Adele. Jean was feeling very apprehensive about what was going to happen when Steve found out about her and his three friends. For a brief moment she was even tempted to try to stop him from going to the pool. But she knew that would only be postponing the inevitable. And she knew he did want to go. And, as she said goodbye, she even let herself entertain briefly the dream that the boys wouldn't tell him what had happened.
But she'd known secretly that they would, or that they would certainly tell someone they knew in common and that word would eventually get to him in some form or another. She knew that evening when he came in that word had already gotten to him, no matter from where it came.
Jean had been watching television to pass the time. In that age old female defense against almost any threat she had dressed herself in the loosest and one of the sexiest sleeveless dresses she had. She wore no brassiere and only her flimsiest silk panties. She'd dabbed an ample helping of perfume on her neck. In the late afternoon she'd allowed herself one whiskey as a bracer.
The television was so loud and Jean was so engrossed in her own thoughts and fears that she didn't even hear the door open. She didn't know
Stephan was back until she felt his presence and looked up to see him standing at the door of the den, looking at her with a strained, ashen face. His eyes coldly surveyed her body, her voluptuous breasts almost completely visible through the big arm-holes in the loose sleeveless dress. Then he sniffed the smell of her perfume scenting the air. "Expecting company?"
"I was expecting you, Stevie," she said in her sexiest voice, still hoping against hope that he still didn't actually know.
He looked at her deadpan. He walked over and turned off the TV Now in his angry decisiveness he looked more like his father than ever before, and the love that welled in Jean's breast for him was enough to break her heart. He turned back, staring at her coldly, and said:
"Mother, you're a whore!"
Jean nodded, tears spilling from her eyes. "I know, I know. And I know you'll never forgive me Stephan, but if somehow, just somehow you could..."
He said nothing. He just stood there glaring at her. Shaken with sobs, she rose and walked toward him. She reached out and touched him on the side of the face. He didn't move but she could feel the raw current of anger exuding from his body.
"Stephan, please. Don't look at me like that. Hit me or something but don't look at me like that. They raped me too and there wasn't anything I could do to stop it. Honest. It was the same as you and Adele."
"Yeah. I heard," he said dryly. "And I heard you loved every minute."
Then suddenly his hand shot out and grabbed her dark hair. He tanked on it viciously, causing her head to droop slightly from the force.
"Stephan! You're hurting me."
He turned her hair loose. Then he reached to seize her loose dress at the neck. In a single jerk he ripped it open down the front so it hung away from her torso to completely expose the voluptuous mounds of her full ripe breasts peaked by the mauve, already hard-tingling nipples. And as his eyes burned over her exposed flesh, she thought she understood. He had said she'd enjoyed being raped. But that statement had been more than sarcasm. It had, as they both knew, been the truth. And it had been a warning of what he wanted to do as a way of getting his own revenge for the way she had shamed and humiliated him by her degrading comportment with his friends.
Jean stood trembling with a lewd building excitement as her son stared viciously at her nearly naked form. Oh God, she thought. If it only could be as simple as that! If Stephan could only appease his anger by the simple act of lovemaking, even violent lovemaking, it would be so wonderful. Because she had enjoyed what happened to her yesterday, and the masochistic self-punishing guilt that had been unleashed in her by what she had done was today in need of even greater appeasement.
Stephan looked at his mother for a moment longer, then took her arm and turned her and marched her toward the door. He guided her down the hall to the bedroom and she followed without resistance, her desperately secret hope causing her sensitive pussy-lips to prematurely dilate and moisten, just as they had yesterday in preparation for her lewd gang-rape at the hands of his three young friends. Inside the room he released her. He reached down and pushed the dress from her hips, then seized her panties and gave another angry jerk so the little garment ripped like wet toilet paper from her hips. Tossing them angrily away, he indicated the bed with his eyes.
"Oh Stephan!"
"Get on the bed, Mother, or by God I'll hit you in the face!"
Looking into her son's maddened eyes, Jean realized that it would be futile to try to resist him even if she had wanted to. Though she was an inch taller and they were about even in weight, she knew from the way he'd held her arm that he had the edge in strength, and she felt a secret tingle of pride at her son's demonstration of his masculinity as she complied with his command.
Her heart pounding with excitement in her breasts, she dropped down on the bed. She watched him unbuckle his belt and pull his trousers and jockey shorts down to reveal his already rigidly throbbing penis sticking up, red-tipped and blood-filled, from his thinly-haired loins. A moan of shame and disappointment swelled in her throat as he left his pants clutching them just above his knees and hobbled toward the bed. My God, he wasn't even going to show her the consideration of completely removing his clothes. He was going to fuck her like a busy businessman fucking a whore on his coffee break and yet she knew it was exactly what she deserved.
Then she closed her eyes as he dropped down beside her, pushing her forcibly to a reclining position on her back, his hands searching brutally over the sensitively pliant flesh of her nipples and breasts. Then he stroked lower down over her hips, and in spite of its crudeness the gesture provoked a familiar tingling response deep up in her loins. A little thrill of excitement rippled over her naked skin as she realized that in spite of all his bitterness over what she had done, her son was going to make love to her again.
Then suddenly his fingers tightened cruelly on her flanks and thighs and in a sudden forcible motion he pushed her over to lie face down on the bed. Before she could grasp what was happening he forced her knees up and under her body so that her buttocks were pushed into a ripely proffered position up into the air. It was the same position Bill and Danny had forced her to assume the day before, and she concluded with a sinking heart that her son must have heard every detail of what had happened then. He must be forcing her to accept this humiliating posture only in an attempt to further degrade and punish her.
Then as he positioned himself on his knees behind her the same way Danny had the day before, Jean felt his hands plunge without warning right down to her strained ass-cheeks. And as she pulled them wide apart to completely expose the forbidden inner furrow and her tiny puckered anus, she got the first faint inkling of what her son intended to do. Her eyes bulged fearfully at the thought, and she shivered as she felt one of his fingers venture farther down into her defenseless crack to exert a sudden hard pressure right against the cringing little hole.
Jean couldn't even verbalize her secret fear, and she tried desperately to slither away on the bed to escape from the tormenting sensation of Stephan's finger pushing right against her rubbery anal opening. But he used his other arm to hold her in place and only increased the prodding force.
"No, Stephan," she gasped. "Noooooo! Don't do that! It hurts!"
"Shut up Mother," the angry son hissed behind her. "I've seen Danny Jarvis in the locker room at the pool. I want something that's still a little tight."
Jean could gladly have died at that moment. Nothing Stephan could have done to her physically would have revealed his hatred to the extent those words had. And for the moment the impact of the cutting remark caused her to put her present physical danger in the back of her mind. She let her body go limp and tears flooded down from her eyes onto the pillow as she ceased to resist and allowed her mind to go blank.
Then the shamed mother blinked as her son shoved his extended middle finger forward again and it popped right up inside the friction-seared little opening. Her eyes stared open wide at the wall and a low grunt welled from her throat as he twirled his invading digit deep up between her hips to stretch and punish the narrowly clasping inner passage of her rectum.
Stephan ignored his mother's cries of fear and pain as he forced his exploring finger deeper and deeper up into her defenseless rectum. The tightly puckered entrance was warm and throbbing to his touch, and he was certain that Danny and the others had failed at least to get her there. It felt so warm and tight that he would have ventured that not even his father had done it to her the way he was going to, and he felt a surge of boyish masculine pride at the thought of doing something sexual to his mother she had never known before. He was going to fuck her in the ass, and if that wasn't enough to teach her not to play around with the other guys he didn't think there was anything that would.
Kneeling in an almost unbearably strained position before her young son on the bed, Jean was mortified with agony and shame. The continued brutal workings of his outstretched finger penetrating up into her ravished anus were causing a physical response of which she could never have dreamed. Her rectum burned like fire and she felt that any minute her whole body might go into epileptic convulsions from the sheer unnaturalness of it all. It was sick and perverse, merciless and cruel. And there was nothing she could do to stop it. Absolutely nothing!
Stephan was strong enough to force her to submit. And deep down inside she knew it was exactly what she deserved. If only yesterday hadn't happened, things would all have been so different, and hot tears of misery coursed down her cheeks as she remembered the love that they'd known together. If only she hadn't let the other boys take her the way they had. If only she had stood up to them and saved her self-respect.
But now it was too late and Jean was so lost in her own remorse she hardly even took advantage of the momentary relief as Stephan suddenly drew his finger out of her rectum. It escaped with a jolting little pop, then almost immediately was replaced by the even more frightening presence of the pulsing head of his turgid young coc. The hotly surging hardness throbbed menacingly against her sensitive little anus, and with an angry grunt he pressed it even harder between her hips. And as he did so the sheer physical pain brought a cry of anguished protest from his mother's lips.
It was impossible, she realized, experiencing an instant of tortured clarity before her mind almost blanked again from the shock of what was happening to her. Against her tiny anal opening, Stephan's inflated cock felt even larger than Danny Jarvis's stallion-sized enormity had between the lips of her cunt. Desperately she tried to slither forward on the bed in retreat, but Stephan seized her long black hair, pulling back on her head as though he were stopping a horse with a bit, and Jean whimpered abjectly as she heard his angry growl:
"Goddamn it, Mother! If you don't hold still I'm going to tie you to the bed!"
Then he thrust forward again, mercilessly bludgeoning the knob-like head of his throbbing cock against her resisting little aperture. He strained with all his might against the impossible fit, ignoring the distraught woman's cries of alarm in his determination to inflict the only punishment he could think of that would avenge the way she had humiliated him.
"Aaaaggghhh!" Jean cried out in terror. "Oh Christ, Stephan! Stop it, your hurting me!"
Jean's protests reverberated uselessly through the room as the tip of Stephan's fluid-coated cock-head popped up into her vainly resisting anus. He grunted from the strain and continued his pressure, shoving his blood-swollen penis-shaft relentlessly inch by inch up into her little hole, burrowing it gradually deeper and deeper up into his mother's heatedly cringing anus.
Jean moaned and whimpered as her smoothly rounded buttocks sank back against Stephan's loins, impaled by his brutally punishing teenaged rod of flesh. Pain jolted through her body like lapping tongues of fire, and all her thrashing struggles were for naught. Stephen's fingers dug painfully into the nakedness of her flesh, and he held her prostrate on the bed as inch by agonizing inch he fucked his hotly throbbing cock all the way up into her virginal rectum.
"OOOOOH!" Jean cried out, her face twisting in torment as though she thought her ordeal would never end. Then Stephan's loins smacked heavily against her buttocks, and she consoled herself with the fact that at least the worst was over. The cruel initial penetration was completed. Her son's cock was buried to the very hilt in her ass.
Stephan gloated visibly over his triumph. He had his mother pinioned now like he'd never had her before, and slowly he began to lurch back and forth, relishing the sight of her pinkly clasping flesh pulling out with the spongy head of his cock when he withdrew, then folding warmly inward as he screwed back against her again. He listened to her continued sobs of protest and pain, then heard them gradually fade. And as he further increased the force and rhythm of his ruthless attack, he was astonished to see his mother begin to respond.
Jean didn't know what to think. The agony she'd initially experienced had almost ceased and though a remnant of hurt still lingered, in a manner she didn't even understand it was becoming almost nice. She was deriving a weird masochistic enjoyment from her son's brutal violation of her backside, and tentatively she tried bucking back and wagging her buttocks to meet his pile-driving thrusts.
And as she increased the vigor of her cautious response, Jean found that not only did her movements fail to intensify the pain, but even seemed to be rekindling the passion that had burned earlier in her loins. She was astonishingly beginning to enjoy her whole depraved ordeal, and almost before she knew what she was doing, she was twisting and waving her slavishly up-thrust buttocks almost violently against her aggressor, as if in invitation for Stephan to fuck her even more viciously. Her nakedly exposed ass-cheeks were swinging in tiny rotating circles, clenching tightly around his pistoning cock as though to draw it even deeper up between her hips.
"Oh yes Stephan," she whimpered in final abandon. "Fuck me like that, honey. I love you; fuck me like that!"
Sweat dripped from Stephan's face as he stared in disbelief down at the sex-starved creature his mother had been transformed into before his eyes. She was getting her kicks from even this, and the glove-like caresses of her rectum around his cock were enough to tell him she was also doing her best to make it good for him. He began to feel he may have been too hard on her when he'd begun his cruel attack and he suddenly regretted he'd implied that he thought Danny must have stretched her cunt out of shape. After all, he had to remember that she had carried him nine months in her belly. He had weighed seven pounds-eight ounces at birth and at that size he must certainly have done as much damage as Danny Jarvis's prick.
As the regret for his mistreatment of his mother poured over him, Stephan rammed against her proffered buttocks with another mighty thrust, leaning over at the same time to place his lips on the back of her neck. As she shuddered from the racking lunge, he kissed and slavered affectionately over her sensitive skin as though to compensate for any continued misery his act of sodomy might cause.
And that show of simple human warmth was all it took to push his mother over the brink.
"Oh Stevie! Stevie, my darling!" she cried out in wanton abandon. "Oh Stevie I love you. I'm going to cum! I'm going to cummmmmm!"
Tears of joy filled Jean's eyes as she waved her buttocks back in abandon against her son's shocking forward thrusts. Her mind was blurred by the sheer intensity of the sensation in her rectum and loins and by the intensity of the emotion and of the unalterable fact of her motherly love swelling so profoundly in her breasts. He was her son and she would love him through good and bad, through right and wrong. Her pain and humiliation were forgotten. She was giving her body up completely for her son's lascivious sexual pleasure, but she would as soon have given up her life to save the smallest lock of his hair if that were the sacrifice that needed to be made. She wanted him to shoot his hot load of sperm endlessly up into her virginal rectum, and she strained back against his lewdly pistoning penis with eager masochistic joy as his teenaged penis seemed to throb even bigger deep up inside her.
Then the fulfilled young mother cried with ecstatic delight as the first hotly squirting jets of Stephan's thick-shooting cum poured forth into her love-ravished rectum. The viscous fluid bubbled up into her like lava from an erupting volcano, washing over her friction-seared flesh, dripping down across the membrane that separated her anus from her cunt, the liquid caress setting off in her own body a climax she'd never dreamed she could have.
CHAPTER 13
Afterwards they lay snuggled together in bed. Jean stroked tenderly over her son's perspiring body. He sighed and propped himself up on his elbow and turned to look at her.
"I guess I was a little rough on you at first. I'm sorry, Mom."
She smiled nobly. "I deserve it. After yesterday ... Oh, promise you'll never mention that again. Promise you'll forgive me."
"If it happens again I'll leave you."
"It won't. Oh Steve, I promise it won't." He looked at his mother pensively. "But in a way it was my fault."
"Your fault?"
"They did it partly to get back at me."
The thought of those boys using her to get back at her son put the cruel gang-rape in an entirely new light, and Jean felt a renewed flood of indignation rise in her breast. "But why would they want to get back at you?"
Steve looked over at his father's picture. "I heard you talking to Adele once. He had a lot of women, besides you. Didn't he?"
"Yes. But he always came back to me. And I liked it in a way, knowing he had his pick and that I was always the one who was chosen in the finals."
"During the last week everybody's attitude to me has changed," Stephan said maturely. "It's like girls can ... can smell it on me. I got Bill's girl. Or she got me. That's why they were jealous and I guess that's how they knew. And that's where I was yesterday when they came here." He stopped, noticing that his mother's eyes had filled with tears.
"So ... so you've got a girl friend now. I knew it would happen. I didn't know it would happen so soon."
Stephan lay his hand lightly and affectionately on her face, then leaned over and kissed her naked breast. "I've got a date with her tonight. We're going to dinner and ... I'll need some money."
"Take what you want from my purse," Jean croaked, trying to hide her sorrow. "And Stephen," she added, "I'm glad for you. I can't keep you all to myself. Though I guess I'd like to."
"Don't worry," he said with a shrug. "It won't last. I just want to seduce her. Then I'll be back to you. That's all I think I'll ever want from any woman. As long as you're young and beautiful like you are."
He smiled and shrugged, like the kid he really was, and turned and walked out of the room. Jean lay on the pillow and turned her face to the side and looked at her husband's picture. Stephan's last statement echoed in her mind.
It was a promise of love, and a condemnation that someday it would end. Though maybe Stephan hadn't even understood the significance of what he said. It was like a pact, like the pact of life that will always someday finally have to end.
