---

.....4792 home .....4794

Young Boys And Their Loving Stepmother ....(84k)    by D.R. Mason

Archive Note: The cover to this pocketbook shows the author as shown above. However, the inside title page shows the author as "Roy Latinger."

CASE HISTORY ONE

Interview One

Subject's Name: Bernard "Bernie" Davisson Subject's Age: 14

Stepmother's Name: Eldora McGillicudy Davis Stepmother's Age: She refused to give it. Her stepson does not know it precisely. He thinks she is about 25 or 26 years old. Length of time of present marriage: 2 years and several months.

Bernie was first brought to me in a traumatic shock. He was completely uncommunicative and unresponsive. Until he was present with his father and his stepmother, he did not react to any outside influences at all.

In the presence of his stepmother, he began to scream and kick with violent passion, having to be subdued with a tranquilizer shot and taken from the presence of his parents.

Mrs. Davis, young and innocently pretty, sat in surprised shock as though she could not understand why her stepson would be acting this way. On the other hand, his father was nasty.

"That fucking little brat. He loses his mother and when I bring him a second mother, he-likes her all right then. But now-and for several months-he's been acting like she's tried to poison him or something."

"Do you have any reason for thinking there might be some other action behind his apparent fear and dislike of his stepmother," I asked, seeking some clue as to the boy's strange actions in the presence of his parents.

"The only clue I got is that the little fuck's been masturbating himself. And Ellie, here, says that he done made ... well ... passes at her."

"How did you deal with this?"

"I strapped the little pig, of course," his father said indignantly. "He ought to show more respect for his mother."

"How old is Bernie ... fourteen, right?"

"Yeah. He's old enough to learn better manners."

"And," I reminded the harsh parent, "he's also just old enough to feel strong emotional feelings toward his stepmother who is, after all, not too many years older than himself."

"What the fuck does that have to do with it? She's his stepmother-like his real mother-why should he be that way with her and not with his real mother?"

"Perhaps because his real mother he knew when he was smaller and his stepmother has come into his life since he was much older and more aware of women as such."

"You mean maybe she's less like a mother and more like a girlfriend to him?"

"That's one way of putting it, yes."

"Well," Mr. Davisson gave this some seconds of thought, "if that's the case, then I guess he better stay here for a while because he can't come home and ruin my life."

So, Bernie stayed. Now that there was something to go on, it was not quite so hard getting him to talk. At least, he could feel that he had an ally, of sorts.

"Bernie," I said to him on the first interview after his parents' visit, "why did you react that way to your parents?"

The thin dark-haired boy sat truculently in his chair, staring at me. He had his arms crossed on his chest and did not reply immediately. He sat there, studying me.

"Bernie," I began again, "if you don't trust me now, you won't in the next few minutes, or hours. And nothing can be done if you refuse to talk about what's bothering you inside. How about it, Bernie? Do you want to stay here for the rest of your youth, or do you want to get back out with other people and live?"

"Okay," he spat. "But you ain't going to believe this one. It's a new one."

"That's what each of my patients has told me at one time or another. And, basically, they're wrong, while specifically, they're usually right. I'll tell you the same thing that I have told them for years: There's nothing new under the sun, except the approach to it. And even that gets to be a repetition after a while. So you're a person with a problem. So what! Tell about it and get help and learn to live either with it or around it."

"Is that what most other people do?"

"Yes, Bernie, that's what most others learn to do. Sometimes they learn it on their own. Sometimes, they come to me for help to learn to cope with their problem. But I can't help them if they don't tell me what bothers them. I'm not a mind reader you know."

"Okay," he said, still truculent, "I'll talk."

"No one's forcing you," I reminded him.

"No. But, if I don't talk, I'll be here for a long time. That's not force, it's simple choice between this place and my freedom. I want my freedom."

"Begin with anything you wish to."

"The beginning's always the best place," he retorted.

Daddy'd been married for just about six months and he was gone a lot of the time, leaving Ellie and me alone. I'd come home from school, change, and go right back outside to play with the kids on the block. We always had something going-basketball or football or something like that.

Nothing happened until I got sick and had to stay home for a week in bed. It wasn't nothing, just the flu, but Ellie said I should not take risks, so I stayed home for three days and mostly in bed.

I'd get up, of course, when I felt better, usually in the afternoons and she'd have the work done, so we'd play cards or something.

She used to hug and kiss me lots, and I kept saying how I'd give her my flu.

"That's all right, Bernie," she said. "I don't mind getting it from you. Little boys have got to have lots of love when they're sick, especially."

But I didn't want lots of love. Already my cock was getting stiff and I felt uncomfortable. I wanted to get free from her sexy appearance and beat my cock back into shape. It got worse each time she touched me, too.

I was nearly going up the walls with frustration until I could get out of her sight and pull myself off.

"I guess, I feel kind of sleepy," I said as I smothered a yawn behind my hand.

"Baby," she said solicitously, putting her hand on my forehead, "you go rest then and I'll get you some nice hot soup."

I didn't answer but just left the room. Going to my room, I closed the door and staggered across the floor to my bed. Climbing, I stripped off my pajamas, lying naked with the covers thrown back. I reached for my prick, intending to massage it and make myself come.

My cock was stiff and swollen, red and purplish, it stood straight up by now and it felt uncomfortable as it lay against my belly.

I took it in both my hands and began to slide them up and down my meat, like that kid in school had shown me how to do. It sure felt good against the burning of my swollen flesh.

I sighed and began to make a steady rhythm of it because that felt best when the door opened and she came in carrying a dish of something hot.

"Bernie," she squeaked, "what are you doing?"

I flushed red to the roots of my hair and dove under the covers. But, it was too late. She had seen me and seen me mother-fucking naked.

I lay covered to my ears, shuddering with shame and embarrassment. I hadn't wanted her to know. Father didn't know, but he's a man and he'd understand-at least, I thought he would. I guess I was wrong.

Anyway, she dropped the cup and the steaming soup spilled all across the floor, wetting the rug and staining it thoroughly.

"Is that why you wanted to rest, Bernie?" she asked me.

I was confused and could only nod, embarrassed out of speech.

"Well, why didn't you say so, then? Let me see," she said coming over and sitting down on the edge of the bed.

My prick already stood straight up under the covers and I was so scared that I couldn't move. She peeled the sheet and blanket back, looking at my swollen prick.

She smiled. Then she laid her lips on the fiery tip of my head and began licking it with her tongue.

I thought I was going to jump right through the window! Her tongue, rubbing my prick head, was heavenly. Even though I knew it was wrong-she was my father's wife-I couldn't have stopped her if I'd wanted to, which I didn't.

Lying back, I began to forget about guilt and relax and enjoy the first blow-job in my whole life. She was good. She was an expert! Her tongue slid seductively over my meat, taking just a little more of it each time around.

I felt the heat in my prick growing and concentrating in the head of it and I felt my whole body responding to her ministrations.

Her fingers came creeping slowly up my thighs. I shoved my legs apart slowly so that her long and manicured nails could scratch gently over my pale and hairless body. It was great, having a pair of gentle hands on my sensitive thighs.

One of her hands reached my balls and she tickled them with her fingernails.

I jumped as I felt the nails wander over my wrinkled sac and my nuts leaped back from her soft touch.

"Oh, that feels good," I whispered, closing my eyes, forgetting that this was my stepmother, and my father's choice of a wife. All I could keep in my mind was the delight I felt at her hand working over my testicles.

Her other hand was wrapped around my shaft, running her imitation cunt up and down the length of my prick, teasing it and pleasing it with her touch. I wanted this to go on forever.

It was all so new and so good to the touch. I had masturbated myself before, but this was positively completely different. My hands knew the feel of my prick, I mean that I did not apply the kind of pressure she did to me. And I could not feel myself with her hands the way I would with mine.

My belly was rolling back on itself, I could feel. It was ridged and heavy with the layers of muscles that were reacting to her touch. I looked down, opening my eyes, and saw the folds of stiff belly flesh lying there on my stomach, quivering with a quick and growing motion.

My breathing was hoarse and quick, as well. I could feel the pulses beat through my body, especially in my stomach and between my thighs where they joined my torso. And my heart was thundering so loudly, I was sure she could hear it, if not see the place where it threatened to burst through my slender and as yet hairless chest.

But, she was avidly sucking on my prick, so she did not notice any differences in me, except where they affected my tool. I felt her tongue, now, laving away at my erection.

She was going to make me come, I felt it deep inside my body. My guts were churning over and over on themselves like nothing I ever had felt before. My empty stomach-the food one-was almost ready to bound into my throat and I was thinking just maybe she might. ...

But, no. That was not to be even thought of. She was my father's wife. And her cunt was his territory. His alone, not mine ... not for his son.

So, I lay in silent joy and agony at the same time, and just enjoyed what she was delivering all on her own. Her tongue was soft and rasping at the same time, depending which side hit part of my cock.

The upper side of her tongue made me hotter, while the soft and slick underside made me feel all warm and secure in her mouth. She kept alternating them, one after the other. For an instant I would feel hot and wanting her, then, I would begin to feel more like a sick boy-her son, as I should always be.

I was just beginning to relax when I felt my body tensing itself all up again. I was puzzled for a minute, before I realized that this was what happened the first time-the time I had seen a picture with a friend and had felt my cock getting stiff at the sight of the near nakedness of the girl in the shot.

I was going to ejaculate into her mouth. Suddenly, I felt that this was too much, and I tried to pull back.

But her teeth sank into my prick and I was forced to hold still. I gasped, intaking, as she bit into me and shook her head just a little from side to side. I realized that she wanted me to come inside her mouth!

She wanted my scum. It was a pleasing thought as well as a disgusting one. But she was the one holding onto me so tightly that I could not get free without actually hurting myself, so I stayed where I was.

I felt myself getting more and more excited until my whole body was fevered and I was wet with runnels of sweat, pouring down my chest and wetting as it soaked into the bed. Neither could I lie still any more.

I felt my thighs thrusting up against her mouth and chin, which she did not seem to dislike, as she kept coming down to meet them each time I arched my back. , In the back of my stalk, I felt as though a heat furnace had suddenly let go and was gathering to rush up the stack of my stalk. And I had the greatest urge to pee.

I felt the heat within me catch into active fire as it suddenly shot up my tubes and into her mouth, splattering against the back of her throat.

She had had most of the length of my cock inside her mouth by this time, and was working frantically on it, as though she wanted it to do just that-shoot into her throat.

Well, I did shoot into her mouth, flooding her with my ropey spurts of come-milky white juice, that I saw seeping from the corner of her mouth where her lips were slightly parted to allow my girth to penetrate her throat and lips.

It had an odor, too, like heavy fruity spice and I began to feel much better. I felt my prick going limp in her mouth as she began to clean it off with her tongue, lapping up from the base in long abrasive strokes.

Finally, she was through. The last of the sperm was down her throat and my prick was glistening in the light coming through the window with the saliva she had coated on it with her tongue.

She sat up and looked straight into my eyes, licking her lips satisfactorily.

"That was good," she said in a couple of minutes. She was still staring me straight in the eyes and they were smiling at me now. "Yes, I did enjoy that a lot."

"I ... I'm glad ... you ... you did," I managed to gasp out, through my mounting confusion. For now that she had eaten my prick and I had regained my senses, I felt the rising guilt.

What would my father think when he found out? For he surely would. This sort of thing was always given away some way, somehow. In some manner, he would learn and he would not be pleased. I knew that, even then.

I was scared as well as embarrassed, for both of us. He would never understand, just as I did not understand. All I knew was that somehow, this had gotten out of control. I knew it would happen again, and I was too young to leave home ... or was I!

"Well." she said.

"I'm sorry," I muttered. "I ... I...."

"There's nothing to be childish about. Harry's on the road-father was a salesman and was gone for sometimes a month at a time-and I'm lonely. What's better, you or another man?"

"But ... but I am another man," I stuttered in complete shock, as the horror of what I had done really hit me. "I'm twelve and a half, and I'm a man now. Father said I was last year."

"Well, I assure you, darling, it's not quite the same thing-you and a stranger. You're part of the family. If I were sick and in bed, wouldn't you be wanting to help me?"

"But...."

"So," she continued as if I had not interrupted, "you see, it's all in the family. I'm sure you'd want your father to do the same for your wife, if you had one, wouldn't you?" And with that, she rose from the bed and walked toward the still messy carpet.

"I guess I better get this cleaned up before it becomes soaked in."

She proceeded to begin cleaning up the spilled bowl of soup and the broken dish. "I'll get you some more soup," she added.

I didn't answer because she would have gotten it even if I'd protested. So, I didn't.

"What does your stepmother look like? Is she pretty?"

"Is she? She's the most gorgeous thing in the world. You know that, you saw her."

"Yes, but I wanted your opinion."

"Oh. Well, she's just the most beautiful woman I've ever seen."

"Have you had sex with her while she's been naked?"

"Oh, you mean that way of looking."

"Yes."

"Well," he swallowed and his face began to turn red. "She's stacked, for one. She's got tits that would put some of those movie stars to shame. And these spreading hips. Her tits and her groin make her waist look so absurdly small-like she had none at all. Her legs are thinnish like, but well built and shapely.

"She has small feet and hands with long tapering nails on both that she keeps always polished and filed and trimmed and such. She's always taking baths and smells just delightful.

"I forgot to mention that. Her smell. She's the sweetest-smelling female I ever got near to. I mean, I just go wild whenever I'm next to her. It don't make no difference if we're alone or not. I still get stiff and want her pussy."

"How do you feel about her as a person-if she were not your stepmother, that is?"

"I'd want to sleep with her, like I have." He paused, looking at me. The saddest, most lonely look came into his blue eyes, "I guess I love her. I know it's wrong, but that's how I feel about her ... I love her.

I watched the tears come into his eyes. Then he was crying with a steady constancy that belied the silence in which he cried.

"I love her. It's wrong, but I do," he reiterated. The tears kept flowing.

Saying nothing, I opened a top drawer of my desk and handed him a box of tissue, knowing he needed it. He accepted it, also saying nothing.

I realized that he certainly could not go back to his home. Feeling this way, he would only ruin whatever relationship he had with her and whatever might be left to be rebuilt with his father.

She had started this thing with her stepson when he was twelve. I wondered how she felt about the whole episode-if anything.

As he sat there sobbing, I went over the case, so far. The boy had immeasurable guilt feelings that could only be assuaged by himself. I could help him there to get himself back into perspective. But, as for her, I would have to give that much more thought. Much more.

Interview Two

The next time Bernie came to me for an interview, he had seemed to improve. His thin body was heavier and he, himself, was calmer, more under control.

"How are things going with you now, Bernie?" I asked.

He took his time answering, sitting down in the chair and then slouching down into his favorite position. "Things are okay, I guess. At least she's not here bugging me about it."

"Did she bother you much about it?"

"Yeah, every time daddy was on the road. She used to come into my room lots and just her being in the same room would make me stiff. She knew that, and took advantage of it."

"How did she do that?"

"Well, I remember one time-the first time she slept with me."

"Were you sick, then, too?"

"No. That only was the first time. After that, she just came whenever she wanted sex. And it seemed that the day after daddy left for a week, she needed sex."

"About how many times weekly did she come to you, then, when your father was gone?"

"Usually every night. Sometimes she would skip a night. But it was rare that she did. I've often wondered if she and daddy slept too much together, anyhow."

"Tell me more about it."

I was lying down, in early that evening. I'd been out with the fellows, but, I didn't feel like going across town with them, so I went home.

"Hi," I said as I came through the back door.

She looked up from the roast she was basting in the oven.

"Hi, Bernie. But you're home early. Is something wrong? Don't you feel well?"

"I'm all right," I said hastily. I didn't want her solicitude and her brand of help. I just wasn't in the mood for her company-or anyone's, for that matter.

Taking my coat off, I hung it in the closet and headed straight for my room. Closing the door behind me, I stripped my clothes off and, naked, lay down on the bed.

My prick was as stiff as it ever was. It stood straight up in the air, and quivered all the time.

I looked at it for an instant before putting my hand around the base of it.

Sweat popped out all over my skin and I began to shake with desire.

Suddenly the knob on my door turned, and the door began to open.

I lay there knowing that she would be coming through the door and that there was nothing I could do to stop her. Trembling, I felt my prick stiffen into further hardness as she walked in.

She was naked and her sensual body glistened in the light of the early evening and the dimness from the low-set electric shading.

She was tall for a woman-almost as tall as I was, which was a couple of inches over six feet. And her body was exquisitely proportioned.

She had tits I could barely hold in one hand, so big and drooping with flesh they were. The nipples, even now, were stiff and huge, rosy-hued and standing straight out from her breasts. They joggled slightly with each step she took.

Her hips swayed back and forth, and were wide across her flat and taut belly. Her waist was almost tiny in comparison to her hips and breasts.

She had wide shoulders and long slender legs. Her skin was milk-white and flawless. Her long hair was undone and hung in wavy tresses down her shoulders.

Its blackness made the pallor of her silken skin even more noticeable. Her face was not quite that of a beautiful woman, but had much character.

Her eyebrows were black and arched over her deep blue eyes in regular formation. They looked quizzically at me, as though inquiring into my state at that moment.

But, she could see how I was, just as I could see her jet black muff of short curls that grew in a wiry triangle across her pubis.

I forgot about my father, and Ellie being his wife. I wanted her, then and there.

She knew this and kept coming across the rug toward my bed. She sat down on the edge of the bed, beside me and her hand rested on my belly.

I gasped as the warmth of her smooth fingers touched my flesh and my belly curled up on itself, going into rigid rolls of skin and muscle.

"Feel good, baby?" she asked, running her hand in small circles around on my stomach.

I nodded, that being the only thing I could trust myself to do. My voice had begun changing and the most embarrassing squeaks were coming out at the oddest moments.

"Then, I'll keep on doing it," she added after I had nodded. "You're such a handsome boy, that I can't keep my hands off you."

As she spoke, her other hand came up and began to massage the flesh on the side of my stomach. I moaned and felt myself relaxing in places, while I got tenser in others. My prick was beating itself rhythmically in empty air and demanding attention.

Her hands were soft and gentle. They felt good on my flesh, wet as it was from the sweat of desire.

"You're hot, Bernie," she said by way of comment, "all hot and sweaty. Are you sure you don't have a fever?"

Fever, shit! Of course I had a fever, from her and her infernal attraction, that's what. But I didn't say so. I lay there, tongue-tied and beginning to blush scarlet from embarrassment.

My blood was pounding through my veins and my heart was thumping swiftly. Silently, I took her hand, the left one, and placed it on my naked chest, just over my heart. I felt my lips smiling as her eyes met mine.

"You heart is thundering madly," she said. Sometimes, things she said were unnecessary and obvious, so I would ignore them, knowing it was her way.

"I want you," I finally said, my voice choking with the rising waves of emotion that I could no longer suppress for I did love her.

Each day it got more and more oppressive, these feelings of mine. I had tried to ignore them, at first. Then I had simply suppressed them. Now, nothing would work except getting out, and that would be an admission to my father of the exact state of affairs between his wife and myself.

I swallowed, feeling the ball of saliva as it slipped down my throat, inch by inch.

"Come here, dear. Come to momma, and let her comfort you."

Slowly, I sat up and held out my hands at the end of my arms, wide to embrace her. She leaned forward, coming into my arms. We embraced and my arms went around her shoulders, my hands sliding down over her smooth skin, feeling her slender bones beneath.

Taking a deep breath, I brought her face close to mine. Our lips met and hers parted slightly, as mine did. My tongue began pressing down into her mouth.

It tasted sweet. I plunged my tongue into her mouth, feeling the small cavities and hollows as I felt around her teeth and poked into her flesh from the inside.

Our mouths were glued together and I felt the warmth of her lips moving over my cheek around the area of my lips. I poked my tongue down her throat and she accepted it, pulling on my muscle as she sucked it in and began swallowing against it.

She slid herself closer to me, moving up the bed so that her thigh and mine touched. I jumped at the initial feeling of her flesh against mine and then settled down, relaxing to enjoy this.

After all, I did want it, didn't I?

Under my hands her flesh rolled and I felt the beating of her heart through her ribs. Her pulses were fast and unsteady as well.

I could feel her hands as they came onto my body and began running lightly over my torso, exciting me highly. My prick began to jump and leap about with the excitement it was feeling as it grew within me.

My heart was thundering-like she had said-inside my body and I thought it was going to burst through my flesh. I wonder what she would have done if my heart had lain beating at her feet, as it almost was.

Probably loved all the more, I thought to myself, as I ran my fingers through her long hair. She had such beautiful hair that I wanted to keep on caressing and playing with it. So smooth and silky, it was.

Gripping her tightly by the roots of her luxurious hair, I pulled her face hard against mine and our lips ground together as my passions rose in agonizing spirals.

I felt her legs as she swung her whole body up onto the bed so that she lay beside me. Our bodies touched the length of us, and my flesh felt as though it were on fire with the heat from her. Gasping, I ran my other hand down her back and over her rounded ass cheeks, feeling them crinkle under my light touch.

"Fuck me," she whispered against my ear, "stick your prick into my body and make the itch go away. Make me happy."

I acted on her words in that instant. Putting both arms around her body and gripping her firmly with my sturdy fingers, I rolled her over, coming up on top of her body.

Extricating my arms, I covered her huge tits with my hands and began squeezing them rhythmically.

She sighed, the smile wafting across her face. And she closed her eyes, her long lashes falling darkly on her cheeks, making her look frailer than she was.

Bending down, I kissed her again. Under me, she moaned, twisting her head on her slender swan-like neck. She did not want to be kissed now, so much as she wanted to be fucked.

I could feel her thighs spreading apart as I fell between her spread legs and my cock came into direct contact with her pulsating cunt lips. One hand wandered down in that direction to guide my prick into her hole, and I brushed against her clit.

I felt her jump from the contact and groan with building anticipation. Using my index finger, I began to manipulate her little prick around. She wiggled and writhed with joy, her hips gyrating in increasing rhythm.

Her hands left my back and slid down to wrap themselves around my joystick as she guided it directly to her fluttering twat. Her clit was stiff, now, from being flipped back and forth and she was moaning uncontrollably with desire.

My cock was poised at the entrance to her twat, now. I could feel the heat emanating from her box, hitting against my swollen cockhead, urging it on. I lunged forward.

Her hands fell away from my prick as the head penetrated into her lubricated hole and the muscles expanded. I felt them shove aside as my prick dug in, slipping easily into her body.

It was wet and warm in there, cozy and comfortable. I shoved again, igniting her as I did with my hand on, her clit and my cock in her box.

Her body began writhing all over again, encouraging me to penetrate her all the way. I could feel the smooth slipperiness of her inner muscles as I slid into her cavity.

Then her muscles began to contract around my cock, pushing against my stiffness, timing herself to push when I withdrew and relax when I entered again.

Because this was the first time I had screwed her, I took it slowly, not knowing how long she was, or if I would fit in all the way. I was just a little longer than the average, myself, being several inches over the normal. I was almost ten inches long. And that wasn't peanuts.

She was throwing her whole body, now, really getting with it and that encouraged me to get in on the whole thing. Sounding bottom with the head of my prick, I felt my slit hitting up against the back of her cunt hole, being crashed back against the rest of my long cock. It hurt slightly, like being squashed, but I liked that kind of soft pain.

Apparently, so did she because she was crying over and over, "Fuck me. Make me come. Keep it up. Ride my cunt. Ride it. Ride it. Fuck me!" At the last she was screaming the words and not always in coherent fashion. She was hot and getting more and more excited.

Her whole body, wiggling and throwing itself around, making it hard for me to stay inside of her twat. Striving, I did, though. As our perspiring bodies lay together, conforming in outline, I nestled down between her thighs, driving my pecker all the way into her box, and made her scream with passionate joy.

As it turned out, I was just a little too long for her, and in cramming all of me into her, stretched her box, not unpainfully. And stretch, she did!

I could feel the pressures mounting inside of my groin and I began riding her, thrusting in and out almost to the end of my prick. Each time the head of mine came half way out, exposing the corona. Squashed each time, it would seem to take a deep breath before diving back into the dark wetness.

I felt the gism gathering in the base of my cock, getting ready to shove out. It built up pressure until I was groaning with the ecstatic pain.

"Oh," I moaned, "I'm going to come. Right now, in an instant. "I'm coming!" Even as I felt that sensational movement inside of my prick, I felt the long muscles stiffen in my weapon as they readied themselves for the big drive.

Then, I felt the gism starting down my canal, pushing itself along and being helped by the rippling wall of muscle that pulsed just once for every time I would come.

With immense relief, I felt the come shooting out of my prick, and smashing at the back of her twat. Then, with most of its force still behind it, it began to wash down the sides of her twat, laving my twitching prick at the same time.

It tickled and I giggled, wiggling with desire, still partially unfulfilled. The tickling, alone, kept me stiff and I knew I was going to come again.

She was throwing herself sideways, making the working of our flesh against each other, even more effective. I felt for her tits, and realizing that I already had them in my hands, began squeezing them again.

The harder I squeezed, the more she seemed to like it.

"More! Do it more. Make them hurt! Oh! Oh, that's good."

I was squeezing and massaging them until the rosy nipples turned scarlet, swelled and were popping through my fingers. Bending my head, as I lay quiet inside of her for the moment, I put one of those delectable bits into my mouth and began sucking on it.

She sighed and her fingers toyed with my hair and ears, making me hotter than before. I didn't want to come just then, preferring to stay inside her and relax, enjoying the play of her box, all wet and warm against my hardness.

Between gasping breaths, I sucked her tit, alternating it with licking her soft and yielding flesh. She tasted very good, being sort of sweet and salty all at the same time. Her flesh was so soft that it readily came into my mouth at each suck and the little bumps on her skin were enticing to my rough topped tongue. The more excited she got the heavier these little bumps became until her whole breast, surrounding the heavy nib, was covered with them.

Becoming impassioned, all of a sudden with her tits, I planted a trail of wet kisses from one breast to the other as I changed nipples to suck her other one. Her hands were playing gently over my bums, and they were squeezing themselves up and wrinkling away from her touch it was so gently and subtly teasing me.

The light down of hair all over my body felt this first, so she wasn't actually touching my skin, so much as she was ruffling this downy growth of hair.

Then one of her hands touched the crack between my ass cheeks and I felt myself arching up from the ticklishness of it. Her fingers walked slowly down the center of my crack with my bums wiggling madly on either side.

She was going for my balls, I felt sure, and I held my breath, expectantly. I was right! She went straight over my ass-hole as if it weren't there and next I felt her fingers touching my balls.

They drew back in their wrinkled sac at the feel of her fingers, and I felt waves of excitement coursing along my nerves and my blood seemed to boil.

Panting, I pulled myself up, almost out of her and then rammed my prick down into her as hard as I could. I smashed into her groin, flesh grinding against flesh, bone against bone.

She cried out from the painful dive and began arching as I began humping her cunt again. We kept meeting in the middle, with a thundering smashing bang, and she was screaming again in ecstasy.

Rising and falling on her, I felt myself gathering again. The pressures built until the scum was rushing up my tube and crashed into her again.

As I felt it coming, I jammed myself into her all the way, and held. Hot gism flooded into her hole, shooting from my slit, swollen as it was with in gorging blood.

"I love you," I cried as I came. "I love you. And I'll always love you. Help me."

I felt empty inside, now, drained and boneless. I felt my body lying back, like a rag, all limp. My throat was sore from the gulping air that had forced itself into my lungs and my belly collapsed on itself, falling in and going limp.

I was tired, but happy. Then, I remembered who she was and who I was. I felt the guilt flooding over me, again. My face went pale. I closed my eyes as though I wanted to rest-rest and nothing more.

In a few minutes, she got up and walked out. I could tell from the way she was sort of dragging herself along, that she was sad, maybe almost ready to cry.

"Is it true that your father does not know the true extent of your involvement with your stepmother?"

"Yes. That's true. He only thinks that I made some passes at her and shocked her just a little." He laughed bitterly. "He'd have a heart attack if he were to learn the truth about his dear little wife and me. Oh, don't get me wrong. I don't hate her. It's just that, of all the women I could have sex with, she's the last one in the world I should consider, simply because she is my mother. What do I do?"

Love between any two people can and often is a struggle. And when there is either a blood or marital relationship intervening, it often has heartbreaking results for the people involved-not only the two, but others as well.

"There isn't much you can do, except not stay at home anymore. If you were to tell your father the truth, it would not only, as you say, give him a heart attack, but it would break up his marriage."

"Could I possibly move into a foster home, or board, or something?"

"Supposing you decided, or rather, I decided that you should be sent to a private school? Would your father be able to afford that?"

"I don't know, sir," he said, brightening. "I do know that my grades have been falling off a lot and I've been, according to him, a handful lately. But as for money, I haven't any idea about his salary. I suppose he makes enough, I just don't really know."

CONCLUSIONS

Bernie's father was more than willing to send him to a private military school, for disciplinary measures. He felt that his boy was going to rack and ruin because he was not home much of the time to discipline his son.

He, himself, realized this. He also knew that at his age-he was in his late forties-it would be almost disastrous to quit his work and seek a job solely on the basis of being able to be home all the time. That was why, so he said, he had married again.

His son needed a mother, and when his first wife had died several years ago, he had noticed the boy's lack of guidance. But, in his mind, his son's unnatural attraction to his new mother could not go on.

The boy, he agreed, would be well off in a private school.

As this was mainly Bernie's idea, I did not enlighten his father. His mother, looked sad when I informed them of 'my solution' to the boy's problem.

"Bernie," I said, "Isn't a bad boy, or an evil one. He's had a traumatic experience in the loss of his mother. And you, sir," I said to his father, "are not home enough to give him the guidance he really needs-the example that a father provides.

"And you," I said to his mother, "are not really more than an older sister. If you were older and more experienced, then you would be able to help him. But you, yourself, are too closely out of your own teenage years and you are much too young yet to know how to help him."

I turned back to the father. "Not that this is against her, sir, or your desire to provide a good home for your son. But, if he were a small child, it would be different. He is, on the other hand, a fourteen year old boy-physically, he is almost a man, even if he is mentally and emotionally a boy, still."

"Well," Mr. Davisson said, indignantly, "he could talk to me. I'm older and I've been around a while."

"Did it occur to you," I retorted, "that what he felt for his stepmother might have shamed him to the point where he felt guilty and couldn't come to you because of that guilt."

"I've never heard such nonsense. You'd almost think he were imagineing himself in love with her. And I knew he would not do such a sinful thing."

As soon as he said that, I shut up, realizing that the boy could never have gone to his father. The only solution to this problem was, as Bernie had thought, for him to go away from his mother and try to leave his unnatural love behind.

I also realized that the only thing that was wrong with Bernie was this unnatural feeling that he held toward his stepmother, and her reaction to him, and his guilt about the whole thing.

"Perhaps, sir," I said after a short pause, "a school would be the better thing."

"I agree. I know of one that would see him straight."'

I got a letter from Bernie last week. In it he expressed his loneliness at being away from his family. And then he went on to say how much easier it is away from them. "I'm making friends, sir. Many of them. My best friend, though is Macy. We room together.

"Last night when I was stiff, Macy and I slept together. I know that this is supposed to be wrong. But, I don't see that it's any different than sleeping with my stepmother.

"Anyway, I don't feel any different. But if we're caught, then all hell will break loose! At least, it would be the kind that I could handle because I'm not interested in another fellow forever. Just right now because I can't get to a female."

There is more, but it is not pertinent to the case. It is my opinion that Bernie is not ill. Neither is he a homosexual, although he might become one if he gets in the habit for long enough. Only time will tell.

What is good, is that he has lost his guilt and does not have it now.

CASE HISTORY TWO

Interview One

Subject's Name: Anthony "Tony" Englesworth Subject's Age: 16

Stepmother's Name: Maria Sabin Englesworth Stepmother's Age: 32

Length of time subject has had step-mother:All his life. His natural mother died when he was born. This is his second stepmother.

Tony came to me for help after his stepmother had had two abortions, ridding herself of two children conceived by himself. As his father has been crippled and bedridden for the last five years, he has not had sex with his wife, therefore her pregnancies were awkward situations.

"How long have you been copulating with your stepmother?"

"Ria and I have been going to town ever since pop's accident. That's been just over five years ago. The only thing that bothers me is that she keeps getting pregnant. Otherwise, I love it."

"I should think you would want to date a girl who was closer to your own age?"

"No. I prefer experienced women. Besides," he leaned forward, grinning and winked, "there are other women. She just doesn't know about it."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. I got to have lots of loving to keep me going. Oh, she thinks she's the only girl in my life, but she isn't. I got a couple of rich old ladies on the side. They play plenty good, and they pay, too.

"That's my job."

"You're a gigolo, then?"

"Yeah, I guess, you might be calling me that." He shrugged. "But I sure don't call myself that. I look at it as keeping them happy and earning some money as well."

"Then what's your problem?'"

"It's Ria. She won't let me alone. Always wants to know where I've been and where I'm going when I go out: And when I could leave and move out, Pop don't Want me to, so I don't

"When did all of this start?"

"With Ria?"

"Yes. With your present stepmother."

She and pop, like I said, have been married about seven years. Five years ago he had this crippling accident. He was in an auto crash and he's been bedridden ever since.

The first six months, Ria just was so much upset and in shock that she didn't want anything but comfort and a shoulder to cry on.

There was this night when, about nine months after that I was talking to her and telling her that it was all right and all the stiff I would say to her to make her feel better when she got low.

I guess it was an impulse, because when I leaned across to kiss her on the cheek-like I had always done-she turned her head, suddenly. Our lips met.

That neither of us jumped back was a wonder. But we stayed that way for a long minute. I felt my heart racing as her soft lips clung to mine. The blood rushed to my face and my prick stiffened.

I wanted her. It was as simple as that. I wanted to run my hands over her body and stick my cock in her hot box. I knew she was sexy. I had felt it for months-ever since pop's accident, it had been becoming more and more noticeable to me that she was a very attractive woman.

I was only eleven, but I had fucked a girl, picking her up on the street one night when I was out late. This little witch had been about twenty-five and had taught me a lot. I guess I wasn't more than ten, or nine and a half. And I was a real tough kid in those days.

Instinctively, my hand came up and laid against her soft cheek. She turned her head slightly at the pressure from my palm and her lips came into closer contact with my mouth, parting slightly.

Thus encouraged, I parted my lips and stuck my tongue into her mouth. She accepted it hungrily and began sucking on it, pulling it further into her mouth. I stuck it into various corners of her mouth, feeling the shape and size of her flesh and teeth.

Her gums were firm and soft at the same time. Her teeth were smooth and hard, slippery. I ran my tongue past them and along the ridge of flesh that I could reach outside her jaws, the inside of her finely molded cheeks.

There was a curious scar that ran along the length of her jaw, parallel to her teeth. I felt it out with the tip of my tongue, running the tip along this thin line that stood up from the rest of her smooth flesh.

It, in itself, excited me. I felt my prick standing on end, now, throbbing violently. And it got worse when her hand found its way to my groin and she began rubbing across my bush.

Panting with immense desire, my hand slipped down over her shoulder and I pulled her into my arms, hugging her. Her body was damp and warm, her skin was red on her face and neck and her chest.

As the first kiss ended, I pulled my mouth away only to begin running my lips down the side of her slender neck. Stopping over a small indentation in the side of her throat, I felt the swiftness of her pulse against my lips.

We had been sitting on the living room couch. Now, I lay her back, holding her in my arms still, and began working down to her tits. Slowly, I kissed down her throat while she lay there purring deep in her throat.

I know it sounds silly, but whenever she was excited she would begin to purr-sort of like a cat-deep in her throat. It was like a gurgling sound, almost, that was the vocal expression of her sensualism.

She had on a sports shirt with the buttons down the front. Because I felt especially sexy that night, I used my teeth on the buttons, opening them one by one by pushing them through the buttonholes with my tongue.

She kept wiggling under me and I would stop after each button and run my lips over her flesh until I got down to her tits.

She wore a thin body bra and I shoved it aside with my chin, going down through the valley of her breasts. Getting her tits free, I buried my nose in them on the under side of her left tit, inhaling deeply of her strong spicy scent as it wafted from her warm damp flesh.

My tongue came out and I lapped at that line of warm flesh. She purred louder than ever, signifying that she was quite pleased with my approach.

Her hands were wandering over my body. I had taken the lead and she followed, removing her hand from my prick and coming back up to my torso. She went to work with her nimble fingers on my shirt and in a few minutes, she had her cool hands on my chest.

I felt myself gasp as she touched me and her long nailed fingers worked across my body and through my hair. She was stopping every once in a while and playfully tugging on a strand or two.

Opening my eyes, I looked up at her face as I removed my lips from her tit. Her eyes were closed, the lashes resting on her pale cheeks.

I picked up one of her boobs in my hand and began to squeeze it while I went to the large brown nipple on her other one. Sticking out my tongue, I lapped the end of it. Pulling back I surveyed it.

In that instant, it began to stiffen into a deeper brown hardness that pimpled over with little bumps of excitement-centered rises.

Smiling, I lowered my face, taking it back into my mouth. Sucking it in, I began to flip it back and forth, running my tongue tip across it quickly. She shivered, shuddered and broke off her purring to moan with delicious abandonment.

I felt it grow hard and stiff. Then, I transferred to the other one, and began to do the same to it. In a few moments I had her crying and whimpering ecstatically in my arms.

I went back to her mouth, caressing her body with my hands as well as disrobing her while I did it. Her dark-hued flesh was soft and smoothly down-covered with a fine sifting of brown hairs. I felt her body all over, caressing her flesh with slowness befitting an expert.

But then, I considered myself an expert, even then.

At any rate, I was being duly excited by her, in turn. Her hands on my chest were wandering back and forth, concentrating mainly on my nipples. Each time her thumb or finger would flip across my diminutive tits, I shuddered with mounting excitement.

My prick was stiff in my pants and lying against my belly, where it had crept by my main force as it couldn't get straight out. It was aching with a desirous need to be relieved. And I was getting closer and closer to tearing her panties off her ass and fucking her cunt. In a few minutes, I would regardless of her personal wishesI was almost that far gone.

"Baby," I whispered, "give me all you've got. Let go. Come baby."

I could feel her relaxing even as I talked into her ear, having kissed her there and excited her even more. She was squirming now with desperation, wanting me to fuck the shit out of her.

"Please," she whispered back, lapping at my ear between words," ... me ... fuck my ... cunt ... please.... "

I decided it was time to oblige her.

Reaching for my belt, I found her hands already there, anticipating me. I let her disrobe me while I began to finish the same services for her. Reaching around to the side of her body, I undid the clasp of her skirt.

As it came undone, I wiggled the material apart, sliding the zipper down and shoving my fingers against her thinly clad flesh.

She wiggled more as my hand moved over her soft hip. Gently tickling her, I felt her skin all over. She had those stretch marks on her hips from having grown too fast. They made interesting little bumps and ridges that I followed with my finger tips up and down her long supple thighs.

Her flesh, there, was firm yet soft and yielding to the touch. She was a very feminine woman, a frilly and scent using type. She always looked good enough to eat, and I decided that's exactly what I was about to do.

Instead of fucking her cunt, I would eat it while she ate my prick. I hadn't done sixty-nine in a long time.

"Hungry, honey?" I asked, whispering in her ear again as I kissed it again.

"Starved," she replied in like manner, kissing my ear and then biting it.

"Ouch!" I pulled back as she nibbled just a little too hard for comfort.

Getting up, I let my jeans fall and then stepped from them. As I had no shorts on, just jeans, I only had to remove my shirt before being completely undressed.

She, also, got up. I watched her as she slid her clothing off. I didn't help her, wanting to get a good look at her body. She was good looking, too. I ran my eyes up and down her quickly, getting a general idea of her.

Having looked at her many times each day, I still had not, before, really looked at her. After all, before she had been my stepmother. One usually didn't look at one's stepmother lecherously.

One usually doesn't fuck one's stepmother, either.

Her tits were big and had nipples that, even soft, were big and stood up from her softer breast flesh. Her waist was gently sloping and widened nicely into her hips, which were ample. She had long slender legs with curvaceous thighs that narrowed down into trim ankles.

But her cunt was the best I'd ever seen. She had black hair to begin with. And her cunt was blue-black. It spread from one side of her belly right across to the other, in a solid triangle that never a peep of flesh showed through.

Reaching out as she pulled her panties down, I touched it with my fingertips. It was short and curly, wiry but still soft to the touch. I found that I liked her pussy very much. Very much indeed!

Fastening my fingers in it, I pulled her into my arms. I put my hands on her hips then, and held her close to my face. My lips were eager to get at her twat and lick her out.

"What about you, honey," she asked.

"Uh," I said, not getting her immediately.

"I want your cock," she said by way of explanation.

I grinned. "On the floor, then."

Rising, I felt her hand on my prick, cupping around it, immediately. It felt deliciously good, the warmth of her hand on my stem. I gulped air quickly as we went down on the deep carpeting in a head-to-tail position.

Spreading her eager legs apart, I dove into her waiting cunt, sticking my tongue against her clit. Immediately, I felt her reacting as I began to nibble and work on her 'little prick.' She tasted divine as well.

Her saltiness was accented by a feminine sweetness, that I had never sampled before in a cunt.

I felt her getting tighter as I worked her into a frenzy over her sensitive clitoris. It stiffened under my ministrations and she got more and more excited with each pass I made at it.

When she began thrashing around, throwing her hips back and forth, I began to go down toward her hot little box that lay so juicily succulent just below her piss hole.

She was mouthing my prick, now, kissing it lightly and lapping at it with her tongue. Teasingly she kept taking the head into her mouth, only to release it an instant later.

She was making me stiffer than I had ever been before. Just the anticipation of her mouth engulfing my cock, was doing that, as she continued to ease me almost into coming.

But, I am able to control myself quite well. I have always been able to do this, and didn't come. Her mouth was smooth against my prickly flesh and cool against the mouth heat from my pecker.

Her hands were massaging my flesh, one across my groin, and the other around behind was working against my puckered ass hole. She was turning me on so much that I couldn't have stopped if pop had dragged himself in at that instant.

I worked my way down to her hole, lapping around the edges as I came to it. I felt them fluttering where my tongue touched the flesh and she moaned against my prick head.

Sticking my tongue into her hole abruptly, I tasted of her lubrication fluids and found them disturbingly sweet. Scraping my tongue, stiffened for that purpose, around the circular ring of muscle, I cleaned off most of the stuff and swirled it around on my tongue, before swallowing it.

Suddenly, her thighs clamped across my ears, pinning them into the sides of my head. She was going to come soon. So I began concentrating on gathering and coming, as well.

It hurt, she put so much pressure against my head. I was trapped into her cunt and loving it-every minute of it. I stuck my tongue back into her twat, and began to throw it around like it was a cock.

She rammed her hips down against my face, burying my nose into the crook of her ass, almost against and in her anus. I could smell the scent she used there for I was almost that close that I could touch it. Her rounded ass cheeks were pressing against my closed eyelids and my lids were fluttering because of the gentle pressure of her flesh.

Then, I felt the fall of liquids as her love juices came pouring out of her uterus, spreading over my tongue. She was sweeter than I had imagined, her juices being the nicest I had ever tasted.

Thirstily, I drank of her body, draining every drop from her with a combination of sucking and lapping.

I felt myself gathering, not able to any longer resist her tempting mouth. She had taken me-all of me-into her mouth and the head of my prick was down her throat. I could feel the back of her mouth working on my corona and the swollen sensitivity of my prickhead as she swallowed tentatively.

Deep inside of me, my juices gathered for the final shove and in short order, I felt the muscles at the base of my cock ripple.

Grunting, I drove my hips straight into her face as my prick shot into her mouth. It stiffened more than it had previously, so she knew I was coming, just as well as I did.

She began sucking avidly on my cock, backing most of it from her mouth and closing her teeth around the stem where it narrowed before fluttering out into the corona. That gave her a good grip without biting and hurting.

The flat width of her tongue was rubbing back and forth across my swollen slit, aggravating it until I almost screamed from the delightful agony she was creating against my flesh.

My fluids shot into her then, and she was swallowing quickly, drinking of me as thirstily as I had just done with her. And when the flow of sperm slowed down, she began sucking on me, as though she would get more from me.

And then suddenly, it was over and we could lie back, relaxing coming down from that cloud to the reality of living and the aftermath of glory.

I lay back, my head pillowed on her succulent thigh, staring at her close cunt with my eyes almost crossed from the strain of focusing in so closely.

Her flesh was beet-red and shining with saliva and sweat. She was almost steaming and smelled delicious. I almost wanted to get stiff again and eat her again. But, I was weary. I would need time to recharge. And she was in the same boat-exhausted, at least for the next few minutes.

So, I just looked at her and gently ran my hands across her body, mainly her belly, that was slightly humped and nicely rounded. And I traced again the lines of fine scars from quick growth.

I felt quite relaxed and quite happy at that moment.

Interview Two

Tony did not come back for his next interview. I did not see him for one whole month. And when, he did come back, he showed signs of visible emotional fatigue.

"Pop's dead." He stated this as he sat down. "Yeah, pop's dead, buried and gone. Now I've got Ria to contend with. She's pregnant again. But this time, there's no need for her to have an abortion."

"Why not?"

"According to her, we can get married or not, as we might choose. But the big thing is that there's no one to be upset by her having a kid."

"And you don't," I said, "want her to have any children?"

"It's not that," he said, "it's more like I really don't care. It's just that I don't want to marry her. I'm too young to be tied down to any damned female. I want to live for a while before I ... hell! I don't want so easy a catch. Anybody could have her for the asking. I just happened to at hand."

"How far pregnant is she?"

"I'm not sure, but she's getting fat in the middle now. I guess she must be at least four months along."

"Have you considered leaving?"

"Yeah. But, since she's my legal guardian, that would be hard to explain. And, I'll be damned first if I'll wreck pop's name now that he's dead."

He slouched down in the chair, the picture of dejection. Suddenly, he sat up again straight. "You know, I was reading about this couple in a book. They were like Ria and me. That is they were mother and child. Both of them were grown up and while the boy had never married, his mother lived with him and they slept together like they were man and wife.

"So ... oh hell, I don't know."

"What do you want to do that her pregnancy and her possessiveness are hindering you in?"

"Well, there's this little old lady. She's a real blast, this one."

"Tell me about her."

Melodie is an old woman. But she's a rich old goat. She's got no children. And her old man left her all his dough, so she lives at the Ritz and spends all her money on herself and her dogs and her lovers.

I met her two or three years ago when I was just bumming around after school one day. I was walking around town, looking at these rich people's places along Fifth Avenue and sort of bumped into her walking her dogs.

She's got five and all of them walk on their own leashes. They're the spoiled type that try to make trouble for people, being like their mistress, having nothing else to do with themselves. So these pedigree mutts wind themselves and their leashes around my legs. And there's this mass of struggling and writhing and barking mutts with me standing helplessly in the center, wondering if I'm going to be freed from this mess or not.

"Well, young man, just don't stand there. Do something!"

I could do nothing, being tangled and imprisoned. So I bowed slightly and smiled my widest smile. "I'm sorry, ma'am, but, as you can see, I can do nothing at this moment. I am hopelessly captured. If madam would consent to speak to her animals, I am sure this little misunderstanding can be rearranged."

"Don't be impertinent, young man," she snapped back. But at the same time, she was giving me a thorough once over. And she did not miss much.

"Here, Silvester, Marmaduke, Sillinova, Jonathan, Barnabus ... all of you, come, heel." Of course the dogs did nothing like that. They continued to bark frantically and make much racket while she continued to call at them and make just as frantic noises.

I reached over and took her hand.

"What are you doing!" she screeched.

I ignored her, took the five strands of leash from her wrinkled fingers and let them drop. Immediately, the tangles were gone from around me as five dogs took off in five directions at once, only to be brought up cold by their still tangled-together leashes. But I had stepped out and the five could go nowhere until they had decided to join forces and go together. Meanwhile, I reached down and picked up the mass of the tangled ends, holding them.

"Everybody. Sit!" I roared, and five astonished mutts all sat down at the same instant. They were so shocked that they could do nothing else but obey. I was master of them before they knew who I was.

"How did you do that, young man," she asked in a querulous tone.

"How did I do it, I don't know. I appear just to have the ability to do it." I turned and looked at her full on.

She was almost taller than I, who was tall even for my youth of fourteen. She was old, anyone could see that. But she was well preserved. Her skin was pink and white and her hair was snowy white, coiffured and dignified. She still had a figure-not one of twenty-five, but still an eyecatching one.

So, I looked and looked carefully again. I know she knew I was looking, just as she knew she was good to look at. She let me look, her face registering a sardonic grin.

"Would you like an after-school job, young man?"

"Walking your dogs," I asked, raising one eyebrow at her.

"Well, young man?"

"I should be honored, madam," I replied, bowing slightly.

"Be here at this address, tomorrow afternoon at this same time," she said, handing me a card. Her name, address and phone number were on it. I put it in my pocket, bowed to her again, and walked off, completely free of dogs.

The next day, and every day thereafter, I walked her five poodles. It took over an hour and I was paid five dollars per walk. It was good money.

After the first month, she met me at the door one afternoon when I brought the animals back from their walk. Usually her maid, a nicely curved young chick, did this.

"Good afternoon, Anthony," she said. I don't know where she had learned my name, because she had not asked it before.

I bowed from the waist, handing her the dogs' leashes. "Good afternoon, Mrs. Goodnall," I replied.

"Come in. Come in," she said, holding the door wide.

I entered, following her, still holding the dogs.

We were in a short entrance hall that led into a magnificent living room done in white with gold and scarlet trim. This, I knew, was although not my idea of taste, an expensive woman's idea of what was right and proper. It was beautiful, nonetheless.

And she fitted perfectly into the setting. In her gold brocade lounging pajamas with the heavy scarlet waist belt, and her matching scarlet shoes and headband. Her hair was in the latest style, its silvery masses piled around and on her head, not a hair out of place.

She bent down, exposing her tits almost to the nipples to me and began to loose the poodles. Immediately, the five raced through the rooms-and headed straight to the far side and went through the doorway there, into what looked like a kitchen.

"Tell me," she said, "what were you doing on this side of town that afternoon?"

I looked at her. She had straightened up, but I did notice-I couldn't help but notice, now-her half-revealed tits and the outline of her muff behind the sheer material of her gown.

I felt my cock rising. I wanted it to stay put-that is, down-but, I was hot-blooded and she must have sensed it right from the beginning.

"Excuse, me, madam," I said bowing again, "but I can not stay. I must be going. My father...."

"Your father is a bedridden invalid cared for by your stepmother. You are not needed there, just yet. Sit down."

It was an order. I sat down.

Coming behind me, she sat down on the sofa next to me. She sat, looking at me, appraising me, I think. But I don't-or didn't quite know, then-what she was looking for.

I know I was a good-looking boy, even then.

I was still growing tall, then; but it was in proportion to my whole size that I was growing. There never was any gangling growth with too long arms or legs to clutter up the scene.

My chest was wide and deeply-barreled with dark fuzz on it since I was twelve. But my face was still clear. I was lucky in that I never had acne or any form of those teenage pimples.

I wore my hair long all my life. It always curled down around my collar and waved back from my forehead. I had sideburns, but later. Then, I wore it so that the cut of my hair let a part of it come in front of my ears, and I seemed to have sideburns.

I had large light eyes and long, very long lashes that curled like a woman's and lay on my cheeks, duskily when I closed my eyes. My lips were well formed and naturally reddish, making them definitely form the rest of my face with their regular outlines. My eyebrows were the same clear and well defined clearness, although their shape was like flying wings instead of curving back down over my eyes.

I think I fascinated her. I spoke English well, even then. That was because of my first step-mother. She had always insisted on correcting my language and, today, I am proud of my vocabulary and my grasp of grammar.

So, I sat there, closing my eyes so my lashes would show to their best advantage, and let her take the lead.

"Open your eyes," she commanded me.

I didn't, and looked straight into her light blue eyes. She was staring straight at my face.

"You are very good-looking," she said in a matter-of-fact tone. "Did you know that?"

I smiled, just a little. But I said nothing in reply. Let her, I thought, make what she will of my reply.

"I would imagine," she continued, "that all the girls, and many of the women who should know better, chase you constantly in your neighborhood."

If she were waiting for my answer, she would wait forever. But, I realized, in that instant, that would never do. I opened my eyes wide at her and said, "I don't know what you mean? I am merely a boy-just turned fourteen. Why should the women spend their time chasing me?"

She looked at me, carefully, for a long minute. Then, she looked away. "You really don't know," she said finally.

"Know what?" I was now on a predetermined course, and I would hold to it. I knew, now, what she wanted, and for a price, I would let her have me. But she would pay for it. I had her buffaloed.

"Would you like a glass of milk?" She was changing the subject for the moment.

"If I may," I replied.

She rose, saying, "Come with me."

Getting up, I followed her. We crossed the room, going the same way the dogs had gone before. I had been right, it was a kitchen-a very modern and very compact kitchen.

She opened a cupboard and reached for a glass. But she was too short to exactly get it. Being a gentleman, I came over, standing directly behind her, and brushing against her rounded butt, I got the tall glass. By accidental design, my left hand, dangling from my shoulder, rubbed against her fanny, palm in.

I did not apologize. I ignored the gesture, just as she did. But, I felt her ass wiggle back against my hand.

So, I thought to myself as I watched her pour the milk, this is what she really wants? then she'll get it-in spades-but only on my terms.

I smiled brilliantly as I took the glass from her. Continental style, I saluted her with it first, then drank. She smiled back, noticing my mixture of manners and ignorance. I knew she found it appealing and charming. I also knew that she was lonely and wanted to keep me with her.

I knew there was a compromise situation, and I was going to aim for that.

We went back into the imagine living room, sat down, and she began talking to me of little things like the life she had led. I smiled at the right places, looked astonished, incredulous or confused, all in the correct places and kept the flow going.

It was after dark when I left, that day. And, I decided to be busy for a week or so. I would walk the dogs, but, I would not come back in until she was desperate. Then I would have things my way.

I got away with it for almost two weeks, having first one excuse, and then another until one day she was insistent.

"Come in," she said. "You've been a busy young man, haven't you, in the past several days."

"Madam, I have my responsibilities," I said, my cock beginning to rise on the spot. While deep inside, I felt like the classic fool, I didn't show it to her. My prick was getting rebellious-more and more so. I wanted to be away or have done with her, for she was driving me out of my mind.

"I should think you would be able to do better than that. I see you have responsibilities to me. You've been neglecting them in part."

I looked questioningly at her, keeping up the pretense of not knowing what she meant. "I have been walking the dogs, madam," I said quietly, "each day, as I was hired to do. Is there something I have neglected to do concerning them? Is there some special route you would have them take, or some variation?"

"Yes. But not with them. A lonely old woman like me wants company occasionally." Her eyes had a far-off look. "If my son had lived, he would have been married by now, and perhaps had a son your age. I miss not having grandchildren. See?"

"Could not your and your husband have adopted a child or children, then?"

"He did not want to. I did. In those days it took two to make an adoption."

"Oh." I looked at her. She looked back.

"You would like some milk, perhaps?"

I went inside, bringing the dogs with me. This was not to be put off any longer. I had her, now. "I would like some, if you would not be troubled.... "

"Come get it," she said. Again, she bent down to let the animals loose and again I saw her tits. I was surprised because they were so young and firm-looking for one her age. She must have spent a small fortune on herself, keeping her body young and definitely attractively firm. Her face had been lifted, I know. And her body, her tits and her ass were shockingly soft and good to handle.

But I know she had to be at least fifty, perhaps older.

In the kitchen, again she could not reach the glass. Again I lifted it down for her, again my free hand swept across her ass.

But this time, she leaned back, and it was obvious that she was against my hand. Blushing and jumping back, dropping the glass and shattering it on the floor, were natural results. I could have avoided them, but when they happened so swiftly, I carried them through as though they were natural.

She whirled around. "What happened!? " she wanted to know.

Blushing to the roots of my hair, I ducked my head and reached for the scattered pieces of glass. But I still saw her superior smile as she bent to help me pick up the shards.

"That could happen to anyone," she said.

"I'm sorry," I apologized. "It was a beautiful glass."

She made a negative motion with her shoulders, as though this were irrelevant, which to her and to me it was, but it was a game.

Reaching for a shard, our hands touched and stayed together for longer than necessary. I could feel the heat from her fingers against my flesh. My heart pounded madly and the blood poured insanely through my body.

Looking across at her, I saw her usually pale face was red up her neck and to the roots of her lovely hair. Our faces were perceptibly drawing closer together, and I realized that she was as taken with me as I would not admit to myself that I was with her-or rather, her money.

Her mouth was soft and well-knowing. Her lips caressed across mine, lightly arousing my already stiffening cock. I felt her tongue entering my mouth, and let it, knowing that she was teaching me, who supposedly did not know a thing.

Her tongue sought out the crevices of my mouth, stimulating me almost into coming. She could hardly know my sensual capacity; but being a woman, she came close.

She shoved her tongue down my throat, penetrating and almost choking me. I swallowed hard a couple of times, and made it past that foible all right.

When her tongue began withdrawing, I followed it with mine, taking it into her mouth. I felt her gasp with the slight shock of my 'quick learning' and admit my tongue into her mouth. She was soft and smooth inside. And, amazement of amazement, her teeth were her own!

Again, I just barely held my sperm from shooting right in my pants, so sexually aroused was I at that instant. I twisted my head slightly sideways, and brought my arms up to her shoulders to draw her nearer to me.

Then, the kiss ended. We drew apart.

"Oh!" I said, for lack of something else to say and, also, to keep up the image of my 'innocence.' And then, I blushed from my throat up into the roots of my hair. If she weren't completely convinced that I was innocent, then the best job in the world wouldn't work. But, she was.

My hands were still resting on her shoulders, lightly, and we looked into each other's eyes. The shattered glass lay unnoticed on the floor for the moment.

Recovering myself, I bent my head back down and began to clumsily pick it up, piece by fucking piece. When I had gathered the bigger shards together, I knelt there, stupidly, holding the glass in my hand.

"Here," she said, belatedly, "let me have that. I'll take care of it now." And she took the glass from my nerveless fingers, disposing of it.

While she did, I rose, and in that instant realized that my cock was jamming itself obscenely against my slacks, creating an obvious bulge. She noticed it, all right, when she turned around again.

Her hand came out slowly, and her fingers lay themselves across that bulge. I gasped.

She smiled. "Hurt?"

"N ... no...." I stammered, blushing again. "It doesn't hurt ... " I left the words hanging in the air. She knew what I meant.

"Maybe, I can do something about that," she said slyly.

I simply looked at her. I wanted for her to make the next move. This was all up to her, anyway. It was her game.

Her fingers, both hands now, were working slowly over my prick and I felt the buckle being loosened from around my waist. In the next instant, the zipper of my slacks was gliding down, and my cock sprang out, snapping back and forth with vigorous action.

Again, I blushed. I had paled, now I felt my face beginning to burn with desire, more than with embarrassment. But she would interpret it as being embarrassment.

So much the better, I thought.

Her fingers closed around my cock as she knelt before me, taking a firm grip on my penis. Her mouth, so round and red, moved closer toward my cockhead.

Her tongue came out as her lips parted and I felt the glow of thrills racing through my body as it touched my slit. That swollen piece of flesh was so sensitive that it could and did register the slightest pressure against it. I almost jumped from the mounting anticipation that was causing my excitement.

"Oh," I said, "that feels good." I took a deep breath, enjoying the double sensations of her tongue and lips on my flesh as well as the pull of the air into my lungs. I wanted to shout and yell that I had won! But, of course, I didn't.

Her hand was warm on my shaft, heating the coolness caused by the cooler air when my prick had first hit the naked atmosphere. Her fingers grasped firmly, but not hard, around my length, making it go stiffer than it had in a long time.

I was trembling with building desire and not far off from shooting, now. My hands on her shoulders-that was the best place for them-shook visibly and she certainly felt it. I felt it inside of me, milling around, gathering for the final push.

"I'm ... oh ... I'm coming!" I cried as I felt the muscles in my groin shove violently just once. The wave of scum shot down my shaft, amid the single stiffening shudder my prick gave and her mouth was suddenly flooded with my gism.

I felt, rather than saw, her swallowing as I continued to shoot until I had drained this particular load from myself into her mouth. Then, I felt myself beginning to go limp.

The pain relieved, the itching stopped, I went about halfway limp and dangled against her slippery tongue, while she continued to suck me off.

One of her hands, which had been massaging my prick and my black, furry groin, slipped down the side of her belly and was thrust between her close-pressed thighs as she began to finger herself off.

"Stop," I said. "You shouldn't do that."

She looked up at me, smiling. "Do you want to learn to perform on me what I have just done with you?"

"Yes," I said, "how do I do it?"

Rising, she took me by the hand, leading me back into the living room. We went through that room and across to the other door-the one I had barely noticed before. It led into her bedroom.

Her room was slightly fantastic. It carried out the repeating motif of white and gold, but with blue instead of red for the background, this time. She had positively, the most huge bed that I have ever seen or even read about. I think that I stood and stared for almost a whole minute at it before I reacted outwardly.

"Holy shit!" I exclaimed, this time in genuine amazement, "That is the most bed, I've ever seen! Where the fuck did you get it?"

She smiled. "It was a wedding present from my late husband. I've had it many years, and used it more often than it shows. Come." She took my hand, holding it tightly and began to lead me toward the monster of a bed.

I was holding my pants on with a single hand-the free hand and they weren't staying on too well. As soon as I got close to the bed, I let go and they fell down around my ankles, and I stepped out of them.

I reached for her housedress, beginning to undo the long row of tiny buttons down the front as she went for my shirt. Soon, both of us were beginning to go back to our most natural states-total nakedness.

As I undid her top, I was again amazed at her youthful appearance. Her tits stood up-at least, the nipples did. And her tits didn't sag too fucking awfully much, either.

As I shoved the top of her housedress apart, exposing her tits, I cupped them with my palms, from underneath.

She sighed, wheezing just slightly, and closed her eyes. She was actually quite attractive, eyes closed-more so than with her eyes opened. They were too sharp and penetrating for her face. But closed, she looked softer and gentler.

With my hands on her naked tits, I bent forward and kissed her closed lids. She smiled without opening her eyes. And I squeezed her breasts with gentle firmness.

My mouth strayed down her cheek, over her jaw bone and to her throat, where I proceeded to arouse her by licking and lapping across her stringy flesh and her standing throat cords.

As I undressed her, I continued down her body, lapping and kissing my way down over her torso. Her waist, when I got to it, was long and smooth, the skin soft with much assiduous application of creams and lotions. She smelled like a rose.

Her cunt was what sent me sky riding. The masses of rich brown hair, so soft and curly, nestled between her thin and hard-muscled thighs, was a richness I had not expected to find. With almost reverence, I laid my lips against the expanse of furry pelt.

Lapping, I soon had all of her bush wet and shining with saliva before I lowered myself to my knees and stuck my face between her thighs.

In that instant, she began moving away from me. I followed her across the carpet on my knees, while she continued to back away, shedding the rest of the costume as she backed up.

When she felt her legs hit against the bed, she lay down, spreading her thighs apart, revealing her red and swollen cunt to me. The sight of her juicy pussy sent the blood rushing from my prick to my head and back again. So, I paled, flushed and paled while my prick stiffened, deflated and stiffened anew.

Burying my head in her cunt, I whipped my tongue at her pussy lips, wetting them the more and whipping her into an agony of desire. She was lying there, trembling and moaning, panting with anticipation as I began to work on her body.

I did not go for her clit, knowing that this would arouse her suspicions about my innocence. Instead, I kept to her rosy flushing cunt, working toward the cunt hole, where her scent was strongest. It was natural that I should follow my nose.

I did. In a few moments, my tongue was washing over her cunt lips and down every stroke between them, touching the soft wetness of her smooth inner skin. She wiggled her ass across the bed, knocking her pussy closer into my face. She was trying to make me tongue into her twat, I very well knew.

So, after a while, when I had exhausted her outer pussy surfaces, I stuck my tongue experimentally into her dark, moist hole.

She stiffened perceptibly because while she wanted it, she had not been actually expecting it, right then. And, she loved it. I could tell.

Her hole was big-I suppose her age plus having borne a single child were the reasons. My tongue fitted easily into her hole and I began by stretching it in until the back of my throat was getting sore. Then, experimentally again, I began to wiggle it back and forth, pulling lips back and my jaws open.

I felt the effect it had on me. My stiff prick got almost rigid as it banged itself into my belly. My stomach muscles snapped into tight formation, and I gasped as the breath was heaved from my tingling lungs.

I felt myself sweating profusely, the heat racing through my body, tearing through my shuddering limbs and leaving me weak with desire.

Her taste was divine, and I could not get enough of her. More, I wanted ... more and more. I wanted to thrust my cock into her body, riding her until she screamed for me to let her rest. Instead, here I was kneeling before her and using my tongue where I would have wanted to use my cock.

"Here, baby," she said, whispering between gasps. "Come up here to me. I want you cock."

Not taking my face from her cunt, I began to climb up onto the bed, swinging myself around as I did so that she could get to my throbbing prick.

I gasped as I felt her hands cling to the flesh of my ass for an instant. My flesh was covered with little bumps and burning red as her fingers worked over my flesh and toward my balls.

Her hands on my nuts ... and a gentle softness wafted across my groin, her fingers sank into the wrinkled sac of my testicles, and I felt myself glowing with erogenous sensations, that stimulated me and my prick to almost coming.

"Make me come," I cried. "Keep it up! More!" As I cried, she massaged my nuts as I had done her tits before. The warmth of her hands was penetrating through those cold little hardnesses like the warmth of love.

I felt her other hand on my thigh, moving between my legs toward my stiff cock. Spreading my legs over her face, one on each side, I helped her to get her hand up to my pecker as it lay throbbing against my belly.

Backing off, I brought my phallus more in line with what she desired, as I could feel from the pull she was gently exercising on my prick's base. Then, I felt her tongue against my nuts and nearly flipped from the suddenness of the pleasure she released inside of me.

Swallowing once, she took both my balls and the whole sac completely into her mouth. The pervading warmth spread from them all over my body and I felt that I was going to shoot any second.

She must have realized this for she suddenly let go of my nuts and pulled my prick down at the same time, and she then thrust her mouth around the head of my cock.

I shuddered as I felt that singular reaction going through my body. Her hand, the free one, went to my groin and she was massaging my flesh through the muff of my pubic hairs that had been growing thickly for almost two years.

I cried, moaning and groaning incoherently as I felt myself coming with a rush of shuddering bull muscle. The single slamming thrust of my belly, sent my prick crashing back into her throat as my scum shot down my tube and out, splattering against the back of her throat.

She swallowed quickly, not losing a single drop of my precious come. And then, I felt myself beginning to relax. Before I should collapse, I rolled off her, but kept my mouth against her cunt, for she had not come yet.

She shuddered from head to foot, suddenly. And I knew she would be coming, pouring down on my tongue in a matter of seconds. Exhausted as I was, I kept my tongue working inside her hole, flitting back and forth, striking her cunt walls.

I felt her body tensing, then for the big shove. Following her example, I brought one hand up to her belly and began massaging the hard flesh that rippled there.

She shuddered again and I caught the moan that rolled from her uncontrollably. This was it! In the next instant, her love juices poured down over my tongue, drenching it in her scented come.

Lapping quickly, I took it into my mouth, half sucking, half lapping and drinking. Down my throat, time after time, until I had all of it and had not lost a single drop. Then, I slowly began cleaning the depth of her twat that I could reach with the length of my tongue.

"Did she give you money for this?"

"Not money. Better things. She would take me shopping, for instance and buy me clothing. Or we would go expensive places for dinner. Once, we went for a weekend in the country. Things like this. It was better than mere payment of money."

"Did you copulate with her often, after that?"

"Quite often, as a matter-of-fact. Almost every time I went into her apartment-I guess once or twice a week. Sometimes, more; sometimes, less. It depended on her."

"And did she give you your own way?"

"Yeah. I lived at home and did what I pleased, seeing her when I was free. Not when she really wanted to see me. I had it my own way."

"And now," I continued, "that Ria is encompassing you with her desires to know where you are and what you're doing, you find that you're hampered?"

"Yeah. And especially now that she's determined to have that bastard." He shrugged. "On the other hand, my old ladies are getting just a little fractious. If I were to marry Ria, then I'd be safe from them. I'd only have her to worry about ... " He fell silent, thinking out his possibilities.

CONCLUSIONS

Tony eventually married Ria. He waited until just before their child was born and they eloped. On the other hand, he did not stop seeing his 'old ladies' and even widened the field to include several more.

Psychiatrically, he is quite unstable, needing an excessive amount of sexual activity to keep him satisfied. It might be an emotional imbalance, just as it might be a physical imbalance in his hormones.

He is a nymphomaniac who habitually keeps at least five women and visits at least one of them each and every night of the week. He has been coming regularly to this office for counseling, but little progress has been made in the nature of improving his illness. The only improvements have been in the area of stabilization of his. need at four or five instead of it increasing or being of the roving sort.

At this time, I cannot tell if he will ever be content to be with a single woman. He may never be capable of this. He is now in his mind twenties, and shows no signs of slowing down as most men do once they peak their sexual hump.

CASE HISTORY THREE

Interview One

Subject's Name: Tommy JoSan Subject's Age: 17

Stepmother's Name: Mildred Sumpter JoSan Stepmother's Age: 43

Mrs. JoSan, a large and militant woman, plunked herself squarely down before me, her legs firmly together and her ankles touching. Her longish skirts were well down her bony knees.

Standing behind her in trembling and terrified silence, the teenage boy kept his eyes on the floor. He did not speak until she directed him to speak, and then only what she told him to say.

"My son has a problem," Mrs. JoSan boomed in her very deep voice. While she spoke, the heavy growth of hair across her upper lip quivered indignantly. "He is not responding rationally to women." She stopped and cleared her throat. "I mean that ... well ... I cannot get him to date girls his age ... any girls, for that matter. He avoids them like they carried a plague."

"How old are you, Tommy?" I asked.

The boy continued to hang his head, staring at the floor and his shoe, which he was rubbing back and forth over a piece of the carpeting.

"Well," she snapped, poking with her umbrella, "answer the doctor."

"I'm ... s-s-seven ... seventeen, s-s-sir." He did not look up at all.

"Stand still and look the man in the eye when you are asked a question and you reply," she snapped again at him. "Really," she said turning back to face me across the desk, "I just don't know what I'm going to do with that boy." She was talking about him as though he were not present, instead of standing directly beside her. "He's so unresponsive. And he's not a stupid child.

"Why, when I married Edgar, that's my husband, Tommy was the real reason I decided to marry Edgar. The boy needed a mother."

"Oh," I said, beginning to understand a glimmer, "then, Tommy is not your natural son."

"No," she said, "but he may as well be. I love him as I would a child from my own body. He was such a wonderful little boy. My husband," she changed the subject, "and I, Edgar, that is, not my first husband, rest his soul, have always given him everything. And he pulls such unmanly stunts."

"like what?"

"like," she spat, her disgust showing clearly, "him and his little playmates. Those horrid brats from down the street. Those little ... little ... little perverts!" she finally managed to get out. "And my boy, he-likes to pal around with them!" She shuddered as though it were just too much for her to bear, almost. "I think it's horrid!"

"What do you mean by 'perverts?' " I asked, feeling that now, we might be making steady progress.

"Why ... you ... the queer kind of boys. The ones who don't like girls, you know."

"Oh," I said, having thought this might be what she meant, "you mean homosexuals?"

"Yes," she drove on, "queers." She said the word as though it were some sort of disease that was distasteful and something that was not nice to mention at the dinner table-much like all sex is often confronted, even today.

"You feel that your stepson is a homosexual?"

"Feel! Feel!" She practically jumped from the chair in her indignant fury. "I know he's a ... one of them."

"Have you seen him actually sodomizing or being sodomized ... seen with your own eyes?"

"I don't have to see to know that if he is with those types, he becomes one. And he doesn't like women, either. Remember. That's a dead giveaway. I know." She nodded her head sagely, as though she did really know all the answers. "But," she continued, "while I do know what he is becoming, I don't know how to stop it. That's why I brought him to you. You're a psychiatrist and you know about how to stop these insane perversions."

I explained to her that, if her son were homosexual, it would take at least many long months of sessions, and possibly years. She did not mind, getting him right was all that mattered to her. And then she settled back as though she were going to attend the sessions. "Well," she said, irritably, "get on with it."

"Mrs. JoSan, as a psychologist," I corrected her, "I see my patients alone. I have found in many years of active practice, that is the proven method of aiding them. They have to be completely free to talk to me as they see me.

"He is completely free. And he knows it."

"Mrs. JoSan, nobody feels free when there is another party involved. This is confidential between him and myself as his doctor. It goes no further than this room. And if you wish me to treat your son, I'm afraid you will have to leave."

"Well, I never ... " She was flushed with embarrassed indignation. But, heaving herself from the chair, she did leave-slowly, very slowly and with dire admonitions to her stepson that he had better talk or else ...

As she closed the heavy door behind her, I watched while the boy visibly relaxed, even though he was still standing erect.

"Sit down, Tommy," I encouraged.

He obeyed from habit of submission. He sat in the chair and stared at me, never taking his eyes off my face. I got the impression that he was waiting for his next order, now from me.

"Tell me about yourself," I said.

Again, from habit, he recited his scholastic records, his age and birth date, his height, weight, sizes of clothing, and other material facts about himself. These were things, I felt, he had summarily been forced into hiding behind as himself.

"Not the vital statistics, Tommy. Those are irrelevant. I would rather know about you, yourself and what you are like inside. For instance, are you what your stepmother says you are?"

He looked straight at me, his blue eyes never wavering. "If she says I am, then she must be right. She is always right."

"Why is she always right?"

"She is because she is my mother and an adult."

"Are adults always right? Do they never err?"

"I don't know about other people. But she's always right."

"Why?" I raised my eyebrows at him. "She's only human after all, you know."

"If she's not always right, I get a beating."

Now, that was something. "What kind of a beating?"

"A beating. Just a beating."

"Tell me about the last beating you got. Tell me everything-before and after and during the beating. I don't want just facts. I want to know what you felt, what your emotions were and why you felt and acted as you did."

"Yes, sir," he said and began talking.

With my thumb I snapped on the recorder.

Petey and Teddy and Bobby and me all hang out together. We're pals, like she said. I like the guys. We've always been the best of friends, ever since I can remember. We always did our things together. We even fucked together.

You know, we'd go downtown and get a girl, pay for her and take turns. Sometimes, though, one or two of us couldn't really wait for our turn so we'd fuck off each other. We'd do the same if we couldn't pay for a whore.

Last week, mother and dad were away for the day. It was Saturday and the gang was over to my house. We were shitting off our mouths about the chicks at school and all of us got hard-ons. Well, we didn't have any money, so we just took our pants down and fucked each other off, using our hands. You know, masturbating, like.

Well, mom and dad came home early. She came straight up to my room and I-none of us-heard them coming.

The first we knew about it, she was standing in the door, like she was in shock.

"Thomas!" she screamed, "what is this! What," she turned to the fellows, "are you doing to my little boy? Get your asses out of this house. Keep your perversions away from my innocent son," and then she went into a sort of crazy spell and began hitting the fellows around with her purse. She didn't even let them get their pants back up, what with slapping and knocking them around.

They all ran out, holding their jeans up with their hands, and their pricks flopping up and down their bellies. Then ... she came after me.

"You dirty little bastard!" she screamed, hitting me with her purse.

I ducked because the steel beads on her leather purse cut into the side of my head and hurt me. I threw up my hands to protect my face and head.

She took that as a token of submission and continued to beat at me with her carry-all, smashing it into me again and again.

In fear and trying to avoid being hurt, I rolled down off the bed onto the floor. She followed along, smashing that thing into me wherever she could.

"Pervert! I'll teach you to go against the right of nature! Slippery little sneaky brat! This proves that you're no kin of mine. No blood relative of mine would stoop to such a nasty and illicit indecency."

"Mother!" I screamed. "Mother! Please, don't! That hurts!" I was crying and afraid. "Please, have mercy on me, Mother! Please!"

"I'll have mercy on you. I'll teach you to do such a dirty thing again. Discipline ... that's what you need. Punishment is the way to teach discipline."

She threw her bag across the room and took off her shoes. Throwing one after it, she kept one in her hand.

"Get your ass across the bed, son," she ordered me.

"Mother?" I looked at her, questioningly. I saw the shoe. I saw that funny look come into her eyes. I had seen it once before, but I couldn't remember when or where. But it scared me awfully."

"And take your apnts down."

I was shaking. My hard-on was completely gone. My limp cock shivered against my equally tembling thighs and by balls felt like they had already been cut off-like I couldn't feel them at all! Crouching on the floor like I was, I couldn't move for actual fear of her. I felt cold all over and my lungs just weren't getting the oxygen they needed. I remember feeling silly and faint, but terrified.

Reaching down, she grabbed me by the hair on my head. I screamed from the pain as she pulled me erect, holding onto my hair. When I put my hands up to my head because it hurt so much, she slashed the shoe across my knuckles and tore the skin.

Bleeding, I screamed again and came to my feet, so that it didn't pull so very much. But she kept the tension on.

My pants were already sort of halfway down and I had forgotten in my fear. I made a wild grab for them, and missed. They slithered down around my ankles, leaving me bared from the ass down.

I felt cold and frightened. My hand was weeping blood and it made me feel horribly sick. The sight of blood does this to me. I get sick to my stomach.

I felt like puking and she knew it.

"Lick it," she commanded me.

I stared at her, dumbfounded.

"Lick it, you bastard." The shoe tore at me again, cutting across the same hand, only lower down. Now I had two short cuts that were bleeding. And she was preparing to do that again.

I lowered my face the fraction of an inch I could and then raised my hand to my lips. My belly rebelled and I swallowed hard, barely keeping it in place as I began lapping the blood from my wounded knuckles.

I kept doing it until the scabs had formed. Then she told me to stop. My stomach was heaving and I knew my face was icy pale from the suppressed desire to throw it all up.

"Degenerate weakling," she snarled. She was still holding me by my long hair as she backed herself into a chair, pulling me along behind her.

I stumbled across the floor, skidding on the throw rugs that kept curling under my feet. Each time I would slip, she would yank on my head much harder and more times than not, I would slip all the more, being thrown that much further off balance.

I saw her smiling as she treated me like this. I guess she got some pleasure out of making me bow to her wishes. Anyway, I didn't care, so long as she would just go away and leave me alone.

I was miserable. My prick hurt from not coming. My balls were icy cold and still numb. I shook all over, trembling, and my eyes rolled back into my head, everything going black. I felt faint.

"No, you don't," she screamed and she slapped me right across the face, the palm of her hand smashing into my cheek and stinging my whole face.

I jumped from the shock. My prick leaped, too, and the sharp sting of the slap registered across my whole body. That surprised me as much as it would have her, had she known.

What I did not know was that she had seen my cock jump. She did something about it later, but not that instant.

Anyway, she sat down in the chair and hauled me across her lap. I lay there with my cock resting against her crotch. I felt, with the head of it, her vibrating pussy hairs and her pubis. Part of her lower belly, too, I could feel as it rose and fell with each breath she took and released.

I began getting excited. As much as I hated to have it happen, it began to happen. I felt my back flushing.

"This is going to hurt me more than it's going to hurt you," she said, "I promise you that." And then, the heel of her shoe-the same that had ripped my hand-descended against my ass flesh.

I felt the point of her heel as it cut through the skin on my ass and sank into the flesh below. I screamed from the sudden pain and my prick jumped again, getting slightly stiff. She yanked it out and raised her hand. After a significant pause, during which time she waited for the pain to subside, she smashed the shoe back into my ass again.

Time and time again, she walloped me until the raging flames of torturous agony were flashing across my prick and my balls with each blow from her right armed hand and shoe. I felt the trickles of blood as they trailed down the sides of my flanks and I gagged at the imaginary sight that my mind dredged up for me of the sight my ass and hips must be.

But my cock was squirming itself stiffer and stiffer with each succeeding blow. I felt it moving as it began to worm its way from between my legs and up the side of my belly so it could stick up.

I knew she knew, because she stopped whipping me and said, "You perversion of bastardity, I see what you're trying to do. Don't think you're getting away with anything. I see your prick wiggling around. You're enjoying this!"

And she began to slash at my ass again. But, I guess her arm was getting tired because she kept hitting my legs lower down and also in between my thighs, coming closer sometimes, to my balls. Also, she was hitting up higher on my back. I was so sore that I began crying from the pain.

Tears dropped copiously from my eyes, running down over my forehead and eyebrows, wetting them, because my head was dangling down toward the rug.

I hurt with a deep ache that widened with each new stroke until my whole ass and lower back and the upper half of my legs were all just a single mass of burning pain.

"Please ... " I sobbed between choking gasps, "please ... stop ... you're hurting me ... please ... I beg you ... please!" I continued to cry and she continued to beat me.

When my cock was stiff and almost aching to shoot, she halted. "Well, are you still of fucking your mother?"

I screwed my head around, got a single glance from the side of my eye at my red running ass and my prick heaved. Right along with my stomach, I shot.

Puke was flooding from my mouth, choking me. And my cock was shooting scum all over her dress, drenching her right in her crotch where my cockhead was pointed at an angle because of my being squashed down on her like I was.

She felt the heat wetting her. She turned scarlet and then paled. "You pig! You filthy dirty-minded little mother-fucking son of a bitch!"

She shoved me around. But even so, I felt that her cunt had begun to react! She was getting a fucking hard-on herself!

"I'll show you!" she screamed in a passionate fury. like I said, she slew me around so that my bloody ass was still on her lap, but now my legs were facing her.

She split my thighs apart, shoving one leg over to the left side of her body and making me, in effect, spread my prick on her lap. But, now, I was completely vulnerable to her. She could do whatever she wanted with my revealed ass hole, balls and prick.

I shuddered violently, knowing deep inside of me that she was going to do something awful-like ram that show heel up my anus. But the big thing was, now, suddenly, I wanted her to!

I felt guilty about having been caught fingerfucking myself off like that with the guys and I wanted to be punished so that I wouldn't feel guilty the next time we got together, or me alone, and fucked like that.

My ass hole was beginning to itch and I really wanted her to fuck it. I felt it quivering, just like the first time Petey and I sodomized each other.

I'll tell you about that later, okay? Good!

Anyway, I could feel from her muscular contortions, that she was raising her arm again. Slowly, this time, her right arm came down. She was moving so slowly that I felt myself getting stiff in the prick again from the agony of anticipation. In my growing haste, I began to tense my butt and relax it again. I knew she was watching that because her other came over and lay across my quivering flesh and she rubbed it gently-almost lovingly.

She was caressing my ass when I felt the slender point of the heel resting against my puckered anus. She scraped it back and forth that small circle of flesh until I almost screamed from the mounting itch that she was raising inside of me.

My cock was stiff and throbbing against my belly again. I felt my cold balls suddenly draw up and shove into my ass like they did when I was hot. My heart was thundering in my chest and the blood was pounding through my veins.

I was hot with sweating, my body wet and dripping with runnels of perspiration. Yet, I felt cold inside and was trembling all over.

The steel tip on her tall heel felt cold against my puckered ass flesh. I felt the small goose bumps that were being raised around each single hair of the scant scattering on my flesh.

Then, the tip drove straight into my hole, shoving my flesh viciously aside as it ripped into me for a full four inches before I felt the rest of the arched sole and her knuckles resting down into my crack just behind my quivering balls.

I screamed as waves of agonizing pain streamed through my body and I arched my back, throwing my head back.

I also felt a gurgling as if of shit and gas moving around in that last six inches of gut. But, in the exact next instant, I realized that it wasn't shit and gas, but blood from her scoring heel, driving though my intestinal wall and puncturing it before it ripped a long hole in my gut.

Immediately she began to thrust the heel up and down inside my ass hole with increasing vigor. I could feel the sharp hardness of the steel point as it scraped up and down my flesh, scratching and rubbing and pulling at the sensitive, mucus covered membranes of my big intestines.

My prick was rock-hard again. And my testicles were aching for a touch of gentleness. It was almost as if she had read my mind, for her hand came down to my balls and she began to fondle them, tenderly at first.

Then, she squashed them with her strong hand and I cried as the searing pain shot through my groinal area and my prick reacted ... I shot again, creaming all over the lower part of her skirt.

"You filthy little monster," she screamed as

I shot. "How dare you mess my clothing!'

At this point, I don't remember much except that blackness began to enclose me and that was all I could remember until I came to lying on my back in agony on my bed. My ass was a single aching place that kept shooting spasms of absolute killing pain through my whole body and it reacted by trembling violently in every muscle. He had stopped talking. "Did anything more happen."

"Not right then. Later, she called in a doctor and he stitched me up. I heard her in the hall, afterward, telling him so apologetically how I was so stupid and had been trying to fuck myself with a broom handle and had fallen on it.

"According to her, not only had I broken a brand new broom, but I had also been so stupid as to injure myself. She was so hopeful that I would be all right.

"'The doctor assured her that it was not a serious type of wound and that when the stitches dissolved, I should be all right. He said that there would be some little pulling, but outside of a little annoying pain, that I would not be troubled by it any more."

"When was mis all happening? How long ago?"

"All of this happened only this last week. She brought me to you just as soon as she could get an appointment, I guess."

"I see." I looked at this thin and rather frail-looking blond young man. His blue eyes-not blue, I realized suddenly, but hazel-were pathetically eager to please, craving love and understanding. He was mixed up, I felt, but not because of his friends and their games. It was more-likely because of her. "You look tired," was what I said. "I would like to see you next week."

"Yes, sir," he said.

I made the appointment for him, and he rose to leave.

"You aren't going to tell any of this to her, are you?" He was suddenly a frightened little boy.

"No," I shook my head slowly. "What is said between you and me is purely our business. I may give her a synopsis in a couple of months, and I may not. I will wait and see."

"See you next week, sir," he said as he left.

Interview Two

The second time, the second week, Tommy came alone. He slipped quietly into the room and just as quietly into the chair. In fact, I believe he had been there for almost five minutes when I became aware of his presence. (I checked this later with my receptionist. Part of her job is to time the arrivals exactly. The first instant I see them, I automatically look at the clock on the front of my desk.)

Her record and mine had a lapse of five minutes, which is unusual....

He looked more relaxed, but more frightened.

"How was your week?"

"I don't know. Well, my mother was rather nice to me, but she wouldn't leave me alone. She wanted to know, verbatim, what we had talked about."

"What did you say?"

"I said that she would have to ask you. And that you had specifically asked me not to talk about this to anyone." He looked down and cringed slightly. "I did right, didn't I?"

"You did fine." I smiled.

He relaxed again and opened up slightly.

"How is your fanny doing?"

"It's almost healed. But, I don't think I'll ever really forget or be able to forgive her."

"Do you know why she did it?"

"No. Not unless she's a real mean bitchy type who just hates men altogether."

"That's a possibility," I suggested.

"Why would a woman hate men?"

"There might be many reasons. There might be really none. Penis envy, is a big one."

"What?"

"It's a jealousy of a woman for a man's possession of his penal glands and the superiority that has been made into a sexual sub-cult because of this."

"A woman might hate men-all of us-just because she doesn't have a prick?"

"Exactly."

"Would she take it out on her husband by fucking him with something that looks like a baseball bat?"

"What are you talking about?"

"When she was fucking my ass with her shoe, I remembered a flash of something that I had forgotten I ever knew. I guess I remembered it later."

"I don't follow you," I said as I switched on the recorder with my thumb. "Tell me about it."

It was when dad and she were first married. I guess I wasn't more than seven-no eight. It was about a month after they were married. They had come back just from their honeymoon and it was night.

I went to ask for a glass of water. Stopping at the bedroom door, I heard pop strangling, like. Silently, I reached up and turned the knob ...

Inside, she was straddling his legs and shoving what looked like a baseball bat up his ass. He lay on the bed beating his fists into the mattress and groaning. But I saw that he loved what she was going to do to him.

I felt sort of sick inside, even as I snuck into their room and slipped into the closet behind the overstuffed chair. Neither of them noticed me. So I stayed and watched.

She had this stick up his ass hole. I could see that his hole was swollen and red, un-like mine or any I'd ever seen before.

He was lying there groaning. He was throwing his whole body around and she was ramming this thing up and up and up inside of him.

There was this faint humming noise. It sounded like it was coming from what she held in her hand. And then, I did see this long cord, extending from the end of her bat down across the bed and it was plugged into the wall.

Whatever it was, I realized that it was making that noise. It was humming.

"You weakling," she was saying, "a pig like you doesn't deserve a strong woman like me. You should still have that silly little slut who was so careless as to give you that little brat of a kid.

"You're a lucky man ... ! "

"Yes, my love," he said in a subservient tone. "I never seem to be able to let you know just how lucky I am. You are so good to me, preciousness."

"But you don't show it."

"I am sorry, dear. I humbly apologize. What can I do to show you that I am grateful?"

"Kiss my ass with your long tongue."

And without taking the bat from his ass, he wiggled out from under her as she pulled herself up into a sitting position.

She threw herself back over onto her ass and then rolled over. Pulling her knees up, she exposed her whole cunt to him.

He got down on his hands and knees, that thing still in his anus and approached her from the rear. His head came closer and closer to her anus.

Before he got there, I got a good look at it. Her whole cunt and ass were very pink and red with blue and purple lines running crazily all over it. She had practically no hairs that I could see.

And she was quivering all over like she was a bowl of jelly.

As young as I was, I felt myself getting disturbingly excited. My little cock was sticking straight up in the air and my face flushed very hot.

I wanted to cry, but couldn't. In fact, I didn't dare, for fear that they'd hear me. So I swallowed my baby sobs down my throat and watched with all care.

His ass was facing toward me, directly. I could see his fleshy and rounded bums with the foreshortened bat sticking out of his distended anus and quivering with each small movement of his body.

Perhaps because his ass was being rammed for a long length by her tool, he had his legs spread apart so that I could look up between his thighs. I saw his balls, jerking and quivering as they bounced up and down between his pale legs. And in front of them was his cock.

Funny how it was limp at the moment. But as soon as I heard the slurping of his mouth against her cunt, his prick disappeared up into his balls-like. From my position, that is what it seemed to do. Of course, it didn't really. It got stiff with desire or something.

Anyway, even in the dim lighting, I could see that his pale flesh was getting more and more dark as he worked his mouth on her pussy. And the color was becoming more and more of a reddish-a dusky red-and spreading across his quivering ass flesh from the area of his genitals.

It covered his thighs as well, while the blue veins stood more and more erect as his genitals got stiffer.

As scared as I was-and fearful of being caught by them-I wanted to see how he was doing that to her. I could hear it all right, but I couldn't see.

Swinging the door open just enough, I crawled out and sneaked across the floor so that I came soon to the side of their tall double bed. Taking a slow and deep breath, I raised my head slowly up.

Right there before my eyes, I saw my mother's cunt being cleaned out by my father's eager tongue. Holding my breath in astonishment and growing excitement, I kept staring at their actions.

My little prick was shoving at my pajama bottoms in its attempts to get up against my belly. It was the first time this had ever happened to me-that I had a hard-on, I mean-and I didn't know what it was really all about.

So, I just knelt there, fascinated with watching my father wash her pussy out with his tongue. I could see-the small glimpses I got-white froth coming from inside her hole. And he was lapping that very cream up, eating it and liking it.

I licked my lips because I wanted to have some, too. But, I realized that I couldn't, so that was that. I just went on watching. But now, I transferred my gaze to pop's cock. It was stiff and standing against his belly, bopping up and down against his already taut belly flesh. It was a fascinating sight.

I had this urge to reach out and up to take pop's prick in my hand and make him come. I didn't know what it was I wanted to do, exactly. But, I did want to hold his tool in my hand and comfort it because it looked so fucking lonely just hobbling along all by itself there against his belly.

She was moaning and groaning like she was in agony. Her mouth was open and her tongue was hanging out the side of her lips. Spittle dropped down from her tongue onto the bedsheets and made dark spots on them.

Suddenly, she screamed and her thighs clamped against pop's head, squashing his ears into the sides of his head. His head was pinioned against her pussy and I heard him make funny sounds like he was smothering.

But, she didn't let up until her whole body stopped shaking and writhing and she lay back, drenched in her own sweat.

I had, then, this strong feeling that I better get the hell out of there before I got caught. So, sneaking out on my hands and knees, I crawled quickly and silently to the bedroom door. Opening it just enough, I squeezed through.

I got up on the other side, in the hall, and pulled the door closed. It didn't even make the latch clicking noise that most of the doors in our house made.

Shivering and hurting between my legs, I dashed back to my room and then climbed back into my bed. Pulling the covers up over my head, I cried myself to sleep from the pain of what I had seen and the real pain between my legs.

The next morning, I found that my sheets were covered in a small circle with a dried coating of whitish-gray. I had had my first erection and climax and didn't know what it was.

But my stepmother knew. And, when she made my bed, she was most upset with me after she found that little come.

"Tommy," she said to me in the afternoon, "what is that stuff all over your bed sheet?"

"What?" I asked, not really knowing what she meant.

"The mess in your bed. Did you pee in your sheets last night?" Her accusatory tone made me feel more guilty than I already felt. I hung my head in disgrace.

"I see," she said. "You are much too old for such childishness. You will be punished."

"Yes, mother," I replied still hanging my head.

"You will sleep on the floor for the next week. Then I'm sure you will appreciate the luxury of a bed and not mistreat it again."

"Yes, mother," I said.

"Did you sleep on the floor?" I asked, more curious than anything else.

"Yes. I did. For one whole week I slept on the floor of my bedroom with a blanket and my pillow. She kept my door and hers open for this week so that she would know if I were to climb into the softness of the bed.

"Which, of course, I never did. I was too scared of her."

"What did your father say to all that?"

"He protested, but she had that already worked out. She told him that I had been bad and made it sound like I was some sort of little monster. So, he gave in and okayed her punishment." Tommy looked at me for a long minute, biting his lip with his upper teeth. "I don't thing I really respected him after that."

"Why not?"

"He didn't seem to be a man. He was like a mouse and she was the boss. If she said it would be done, he would go along with her. Oh, he'd put up a token resistance; but she always got her way. Usually she just said that they would do thus and such, and they would do it."

"Do you hate your father as well as your mother?"

"Actually, I don't believe I really hate either of them. I just don't respect him because she wears the pants. I don't think I respect any women at all. I don't want to have anything to do with them."

Our time was up. I wanted to pursue this further. But it would have to wait until the next week. I made a next appointment with Tommy and we shook hands.

This was something new, for he had been too frightened or withdrawn the previous two times. But, now that he was getting all of this out of himself and talking about it, I could see the changes in him already.

It was too early to tell how it would all turn out, but his case was looking up, even then. If nothing else, he was quite-likely to free himself of his mother complex entirely. But his father complex would have to be delved into for a while longer.

Interview Three

"Hello, Tommy," I said with genuine warmth on the third interview week.

"Hello, sir," he said, extending his hand. After that, he sat down and there was a short silence.

"I hope, sir," he suddenly began talking, "that I won't be disappointing you. But, I've fallen in love." His face glowed, suddenly, and his eyes were glittering with a full glowing look-sparkling.

"Oh," I said noncommittally, "what's she like."

"Well, sir ... uh ... that's ... well...."

"She's a he?"

He blushed and nodded. "I suppose that I should not have let it happen ... or something.... "

"Why don't you just tell me about how you met him and how you feel about him. Let the rest go for now."

"All right."

I watched him relax, visibly, as he settled back to relate how he had met and fallen in love with 'him'. I switched on the machine with my thumb again.

Mark and I had known each other since the first grade. He lives on the plush side of town, and his family has all the money they'll ever need. So, does Mark.

I suppose we were never close before last year. And, he had his own way of life, which was completely different from mine. But, for some reason, his family did not send him to private schools-maybe because they didn't want to foster what they probably suspected he was or would become later-gay, like I am now.

I was late for a class and was racing down the halls. Coming around a corner, I ran full tilt into him, knocking him almost completely off his feet.

"Oh," I exclaimed in a nervous way, "I'm sorry." And bending down, I began helping him to pick up his books and he mine.

"You're late now," he remarked as we collected our scattered things.

"I know, Mark. I'll have to get an excuse, I suppose," I mumbled, shuddering as I thought of having to face the dean again.

"She scares you, too," he said. He looked at me with a funny look in his eyes.

"Terrifies me," I replied. "I don't know what's with her, but she makes my skin crawl."

"Me, too." He grinned. "But then, I don't think she-likes people with money. So at least, you have one thing going for you."

"Yeah," I replied.

He looked at me, having caught the inflection in my voice. "Something wrong, kid?"

That particular day, I was more than usually upset. I had been having go-rounds with mother and with the dean about my studies as well as other things. You know, seeing you and her reactions to my therapy, as well as her-well, her ways with me.

The dean's the same way and they both drive me up respective walls.

Anyway, I guess, I just sort of went to pieces on the spot. I started crying and he looked at me for an instant. The next instant, he had my books in his arms and was leading me into the men's room.

"What's the matter, baby," he said. His voice was soothing, and his arm around my shoulder was comforting. I just turned my head against his shoulder and cried until it was all out of me.

"Look, baby," he said, "if you don't want to talk about it, okay. But, after classes, this afternoon, let's go somewhere and then, if you want, you can talk about it. Get it out of your head, like. Okay?"

I nodded and finally stopped crying. I was so near the edge that I daren't talk for fear of crying again.

He had put the books down and was rubbing my red eyes with applications of warm water. In a couple of minutes, I was almost back to normal.

The dean gave us both a hard time, and then sent us on to classes. After my last class, I went to my locker, threw my books in and locked it. I was going to see him and talk to him-I had to talk to someone who wasn't either a doctor or family-someone who didn't have any real interest in me and was just like me-people.

He was waiting outside with his car. Getting in, I sat down and he looked over at me. His dark eyes were calm and sympathetic. I felt myself relaxing and calming down.

He drove to a soda shop on the other side of town. Parking the car, we went in and got some shakes. We talked about school for a while, until I got less excited and then I began talking about 'it'.

He didn't interrupt. He just listened closely. And when I was done, he sighed. "Well " he said, "it's a bad thing, anyway. Have you considered just leaving your parents and going off on your own?"

"Where would I go and what would I do, Mark?"

"You could go out and get a job. You...." He stopped, hesitated, and blushed.

"Could what ... " I asked. I had a feeling it had to do with him and me, only I didn't know exactly what 'us' would be. Not really.

"You ... you could be kept by a lover," he rushed on. "You know, someone who cared very much for you and.... "

"And wanted to love me. And who would take care of me, pay for all the bills, have a place for me to live, the works-like being married?"

"Yes," he said, his face turning crimson. His eyes were pleading with me, silently and hotly.

My hand had been lying on the table, palm down. His came and lay across it. I felt his fingers gently close around mine and touch against my palm, underneath. They began scratching gently, softly, sensuously. His eyes were still pleading.

Looking at him, I turned the whole thing over in my mind, realizing that this was something I had been leading up to for a long time. It wasn't that I wanted him or anything like that.

Rather it was that I had known Mark for ten or eleven years. We had been going to school ever since the beginning and we had always been friends of a sort. But he had gone his way and I had gone mine. Now, he was offering me, out of his affection for me, a place to go to be away from my parents and from the life that was killing me slowly.

"Mark," I swallowed. This wasn't going to be easy to say. "Mark, you know that I don't love you like that. I mean, if I were a girl, I wouldn't say yes. But I think, all things considered, that this is different. Yes, Mark, I will. But I can't promise that it will be forever and all that sort of thing.... "

"I know," he answered. "I'll take that chance."

So, I went home that night and began packing. Mother interrupted me.

"Son! what are you doing?" She stood in the door and the look of shock on her face was a new thing to see.

"I'm packing, mother. I'm moving out."

"You're what!" She just stood rooted to the floor, holding onto the handle and staring at me, her mouth hanging open.

"I said, mother, that I'm moving out. I can't take it anymore, here. I got to have a life of my own."

"You ... you ungrateful young.... "

"That's enough, mother!" I cut through her beginnings into a nice tantrum. "You and pop have your own life to lead. And I've got mine. You don't like the way I want mine, and I sure as hell don't think yours and pop's agrees with me anymore."

"I don't understand?" she wailed. "After all we've done for you ... and all the love ... and you're my child almost like you.. ... "

"You think about it, mother. And then you'll understand. Now, if you'll excuse me, I would like to get on with my packing. I'm meeting some friends of mine.... "

Her eyes had lit up again with that maniacal look. "Friends! Those dirty little hoodlums ... why ... why.... "

"No. Not them. Others whom I know."

"I forbid it! Do you hear me, I forbid it." Her face was getting redder and redder by the second. "I'll have you locked up for this insanity. Yes, that's it, you're insane. And good people shouldn't be forced to have to put up with such irrationality!"

"I would hate to have to tell some things that I know about you and pop, mother. But, if you don't let me go, I'll tell every sordid little thing I know about you and him."

"What do you mean ... every little thing? What little things?" But I could see she was changing again. There was fear in her eyes, now. And hatred, and a shining desire to make me silent, once and for all.

"Your dildo, for one and a beginning, mother."

Again she stared at me. "I don't have a ... such a thing. I would never keep such a horrid...."

"You have a vibrating one. And, furthermore, there are other things that I would tell. It's like this, mother, you let me go and leave me alone, and I'll do the same for you. But, I promise you, that if you make trouble for me, at any time in any way, I'll tell everything. And, I'll tell it publicly."

Her mouth was opening and closing like a fish gasping for oxygen out of his watery medium. She stood there, and then finally, she turned and stamped out of my room.

I continued with the packing.

Later, Mark came over with his car. We packed my stuff in it and drove off without another word to either of my parents. I didn't even introduce Mark. I wanted them not to be able to find me so easily.

I mean, I know they can, but I don't want them bothering me, every again, if I can possibly help it.

Anyway, Mark and I went to his place. It was a nice little apartment with a kitchen and a bathroom and two other rooms-living room and bedroom.

I didn't unpack right away. We got into the house, carrying all the stuff in and just dumped it in the middle of the living room floor.

"Let's leave it for now, baby," he said as he put his arms around me, pulling me into his embrace. "I'm hungry, now-food hungry," he added. "Let's go get something to eat."

"Okay," I said, not feeling too awfully hungry at that moment, but wanting what he wanted.

We went out, locking up after ourselves, got into the car and drove off. He took me to a nice place where we got a corner table just big enough for the two of us.

He reached across the table, his hand lying on the cloth, palm up. I slipped my hand into his and we held hands while waiting for our service.

"I love you, baby. I have for a couple of years." His eyes looked straight into mine, he was pleading again.

"I'm very fond of you, Mark. I'll ... oh fuck, I just don't know what to say."

"Then, don't talk."

So, we sat there holding hands all through dinner. Mark and I, we just sat there, eating slowly and giving each other shy looks.

When we were on the last of the meal and having coffee, he began to talk. He told me about his previous affairs, how he got started, what his family's reactions had been, and how he had come to care for me so much.

I didn't say anything because ... well, there was nothing much I could say. I just listened and felt like crying with happiness for us and sorrow for our families, neither of whom would ever, it seemed, be able to understand how it could be with ones like us.

I felt myself, while pleasantly happy for the first time in several years, becoming tense with growing desire. All the while he was talking. I kept looking at him, at his handsome features.

Mark was taller than I by a couple of inches. And his hair and eyes were very dark-almost black. It was a nice contrast to my blue eyes and shaggy blond curls. He wore his hair down almost to his collar and it curled up. He had short sideburns and a moustache-a short one across his long upper lip.

His nose was long and acquilinely thin, but the nostrils flared quite widely, especially when he was angry or upset. His eyes were large and long-lashed. His generous mouth was slightly more colored than his skin by nature.

He had wide shoulders and a tapering torso that ended in slender hips. I realized that I could easily fall completely in love with this, my first lover.

After he paid the check, we left. We'd not had anything to drink except coffee, but I guess we both felt a little high. As we walked back to the car, he put his arm around my shoulders.

It was a nice and warm feeling. Matching slow steps to his, I leaned into him and snuggled against his strong body, feeling the emanations of great warmth along my whole side.

And below, my prick was beginning to stiffen a lot. My balls were jumping around in excitement and I felt all kind of silly and happy at the same time. I wanted him to kiss me, and yet, I was afraid for him to do it.

I guess I was just shy.

When, we got back to the apartment and parked the car, before getting out, he turned to me. "Baby, let's go for a walk. It's such a nice night out...."

I turned to face him. "Love to," I said.

His hand came up to my chin and he leaned toward me, his face coming against mine. When our lips met, it was as though a spark of electricity sped through my body.

Suddenly his other arm came out and swept around my shoulder, pulling me hard against him. My hands, too, came up and I locked them around the back of his neck.

Tightly locked in our first embrace, I felt his mouth grinding down on my lips. Parting them, I felt his tongue probe between my teeth and into my mouth.

The warm softness of his kiss warmed me all over, and his tongue kept moving into my mouth and closer to my throat. Accepting it, I found myself responding.

My hands were massaging the back of his neck and one hand wiggled its way up into his dark hair. My heart was pounding and the rush of blood through my body, flushed my skin so that I felt hot.

We kissed with fevered passion until I felt the first heat of desire wash over us and retreat. He ended the kiss and slid his mouth down to the side of my throat. "Come on, baby," he whispered. "Let's go for that walk."

Releasing each other, we got out of the car. He came around to my side, holding his arms out. I walked into his embrace and he held me for a long hot moment.

Then, he released my body, and took hold of my hand. Holding fingers, we walked down the short block to the park and went in the gates.

It was a starlit night and a piece of the moon was out. The lights in the park were dim and few, so we walked along the gravelled ways, unheeding of our express direction in companionable silence.

When we would come to darker places, patches of shadow, he would pull me into his arms and kiss me. I responded with growing passion, my prick getting harder and harder until it was rock-like and throbbing against my pants.

During one of our embraces, I became bold and my hand strayed down to his crotch. like mine, his prick was hard and I could feel it vibrating against my ringers.

"Oh, baby," he whispered, his eyes closing, "that feels so fucking good. More, baby, more."

So, I began to rub his cock with my hand. In a couple of seconds, I felt him doing the same to me. We continued for what seemed like a long time, and I was getting more and more excited so that I was trembling all over, violently.

"Mark," I whispered, "let's go home and make love."

He grinned down at me. "Okay, baby." And, kissing me again, lightly, he put his arm around me and we began walking back toward the apartment.

When we got inside and the door was locked, he tossed the keys on the table negligently. "Have to have a new set made, tomorrow," he said. And then he took me into his arms.

This time, it was serious business. His mouth buried itself in the side of my throat, and he began unbuttoning my shirt, moving his lips down as he did so. Our bodies were clinging together, the heat from them beating against each other's pricks and making both of us sweat with the heat of our desires.

I was gasping for breath and so was he. I felt his hands, then, in my belt, loosening it.

As the buckle came loose and the zipper whizzed down, my prick jumped from inside my jeans right into his hand. I jumped as his hot fingers closed around it and squeezed it gently.

Then, I did the same for him. As I undid his pants, I began rotating my hips, letting the pants fall off as well as arousing him more by rubbing my flesh against his body.

Then, I went back up and began to undo his shirt. His chest, as it was revealed, button by button, already had a heavy growth of black hairs. I ran my fingers through that curly mat, reveling in his sensual build, his wide shoulders, his hairy and fairly-muscular chest.

I felt his hands, now, working their way around the sides of my hips toward my ass. His fingers slid over my sweaty skin, making me hotter than before and higher. His fingers spread wide and began to massage my flesh, pulling me tightly against his groin at the same time.

"Baby," he whispered hoarsely, "love, honey. I want you." He paused and inhaled loudly. "Tonight! Now!" And with that, he picked me up in his arms and carried me into the bedroom.

I gasped as my feet left the floor. Instinctively, I wrapped my arms around his neck and my legs came up, splitting and grasping his hips, He kissed me as we went.

"That's it, baby," he said just before his lips met on mine.

Lying me on the bed, back first, he came down half on me, half beside me.'One hand stayed on my flesh at my ass while he began to stroke my body with his other hand.

Following his lead, I began to explore his body with my hands, running my fingers over his chest and through his hair. I found his nipples and pinched them, so that they stood up and stiffened.

One hand went to his belly, stroking the hard and ridged skin that was slightly freckled with hairs. His navel contracted away from my probing forefinger and he giggled as I touched it.

"I'm ticklish, honey," he gasped.

"So, I see," I said and continued tickling. He giggled again. When I didn't stop, having so much fun, he leaped over and grabbed my wrists.

Holding me down on the bed, he rolled over onto me, and his face was inches from mine. "You sweet little bitch," he said grinning before his mouth closed over mine again.

This kiss was hard and passionate. My head was shoved into the mattress and his lips bruised and ground on mine until the fire lit between us flared into a blazing flame that consumed us.

Suddenly, he rolled me over onto my belly. I began to pull my legs up and apart so he could get his cock into my ass hole.

I felt his long fingers against my puckered round hole, while his palms rested sweatily on part of my bums. I know my flesh was trembling and so were his hands.

He continued to probe gently at my ass hole until I felt myself getting hot there. "Fuck me," I cried, wanting him to stick his rod into me and lay it along my passage. I wiggled my ass at him. "Fuck me!" I cried again.

"Okay, baby," he said. One of his hands left my ass. I heard his spitting and there was a short silence. Then, his other hand came out and around my trembling body. He put that hand on my cock, grasping it gently and firmly as he guided himself into my hole.

I felt the heat of his stiff prick against my ass and then the insistent pressure of his cockhead against my hole. Forcing myself to relax, I felt his hard member pushing into my hole. I felt the wetness of his hot prick as it penetrated inside of my body.

It hurt, because it was the first time I'd ever been screwed. I screamed from the strange pain and he began withdrawing.

"No! Keep going!"

"Not if it's going to hurt."

"I like it. I want more! Give me more!"

"Okay, sweetness," he said, and began shoving gently back into me.

I took it and kept begging for more. He took his time, going easy on my virgin territory-well, almost virgin-my dear step-mother and her discipline.

Anyway, suddenly he was plumbing the bottom. He was inside of me all the way. I felt the pressure of his throbbing prick as waves of passion swept up my body and then back down. My cock was throbbing in time to his.

His hands, for he had both there now, were massaging my meat, and running up and down the length of my cock. The heat from his hands and from his cock were warming me inside and out. I felt like a furnace and loved it.

My balls curled up and rested themselves against my flesh, touching his balls, almost.

Then, he began riding me, driving himself in and pulling back out. I tried to work my ass muscles so that as he left me, I tightened, and relaxed so he could get back into me.

Faster and faster he worked at me until, I felt his cock suddenly jump and tense. "I'm coming!" he cried, passionately as he slammed himself hard into my ass, shoving me flat on the bed and falling on top of me.

I grunted and then cried aloud as his hot come shot into my ass, flooding down around and between our separate muscles, making everything quite slippery.

My cock was trapped under me and I couldn't come in that second, even as much as I wanted to. He lay there on top of me, panting while his prick slowly got soft.

Working my ass like I was trying to get shit out of me, I slowly shoved his wrinkling cock from my ass. He allowed me to shove him out, while his hands were slowly working on my meat, bringing me into climax.

"I'm coming!" I said, low just before I felt the first gathering of sperm behind my prick.

Getting off me, he rolled me over. Before I could protest or even was quite sure of what was happening, I felt his mouth coming down over my quivering prick and his tongue was working on my stem, abrading it with the harshness of his taste buds.

Moaning in his throat, he sucked me into his oral cavity as I began to arch into his face. I felt the pressures gathering and, then, I shot into his mouth, my scum flying pressurized from my body and slamming down his throat.

He began swallowing and kept it up until I was drained. Then he began sucking me off, cleaning me out and up until he had taken every last drop.

"You taste great!" he said when he finally took his mouth from my penis. Bending back down, he kissed the top of my falling erection.

He sat up, pulling his legs under him. His right hand cuffed my partially turned ass, lightly. "Come on, honey, let's take a shower and get some sleep."

"That," Tommy continued, "was a few days ago. And today, looking at myself, I find that I love Mark very much. I don't want a woman."

Reaching over I switched off the recorder while he shuddered involuntarily as he said he didn't want a woman.

"I guess, that's sick. But, I don't care. I don't feel that Mark and I are doing wrong, or sinning, or that I should feel guilty. I'm just doing my thing.

"And, if my parents decided to force the issue, I will expose their love life in lurid detail. All I want from them is nothing ... a big fat zero!" He looked keenly at me. "They leave me alone ... forget that I exist, and I'll do the same thing for them."

"You don't love them, I take it?"

"Yes and no. I have regard for my parents because they are my parents. But as for loving obedience, no. I'll be eighteen in another six months. Legally, I suppose they could force me to live with them or under their jurisdiction until I was of age. But they couldn't make my life any more miserable than I could for them. So, I want to let it alone, if they'll let me be. That's all."

"Well," I said, "until you're eighteen, there's nothing I can do to help you except get you into a foster home if they press the issue. That would be for the court's discretion. However, if you keep seeing me, or any assigned psychologist, you will get a better hearing from any judge."

"All right," he said, "I'll keep seeing you. And I will abide by any rational decision of the court. But that's only if they press the issue, right?"

"Yes," I said.

He rose, and we shook hands. "I'll make my next appointment with the receptionist, like it's usually done. And, well ... as for paying you, I'll see that you get your fee. That is, as things stand right now. If it comes to court, then-well-"

"Yes," I agreed, "let the court handle the whole thing."

"See you next week." He turned and walked out, tall and straight, confident and calm. He was not the same man who, as a boy had shuffled in three weeks ago at the insistent prodding of his step-mother.

CONCLUSION

Tommy JoSan's parents, for personal reasons, did not pursue the issue and bring it to court. He did not tell them where he lived, or talk to them about his life.

He used this office to communicate with them, keeping them informed of his health and his general pursuits. He did this until he was twenty-one.

On his twenty-first birthday, he called them and told them 'good-bye,' saying that he would not be talking to them again. He had not seen them in person for three and a half years.

He had gotten a part time job while he finished high school and paid the whole of the rest of his psychiatric fees, himself.

During those same years, he and Mark stayed together and drew closer together, becoming a welded team. Neither of them, apparently, had desires to cruise or to seek other company. Neither dated women, although each had separate and mutual women friends.

When the two boys graduated from high school, they attended a local college, and each of them is making top grades. And it seems apparent, at this time, they plan to continue their relationship permanently.

CASE HISTORY FOUR

Interview One

Subject's Name: James Oswald Subject's Age: 12

Stepmother's Name: Elizabeth Newhous Oswald

Stepmother's Age: 54

James was referred by his school because of the antisocial behavior patterns he displayed. His records showed that he had always been something of an antisocial personality, but never to the extent of refusing to participate or join in with the other students. He had no close friends among his classmates, nor had he ever formed any such relationships in the past.

His father was dead, having passed away only a year after his remarriage. James' mother was dead within six weeks after his birth, so that the boy never knew her and had been raised by his father for the first seven years of his life.

His stepmother, a woman about ten years her husband's senior, had three children of her own from two previous marriages. All of these children were girls, so that James had been raised in an all feminine household since his father's death almost four years ago.

The boy was totally withdrawn and, while he did not refuse to talk, he did not say anything of importance or relevance to himself or to his case history. It was necessary to ask his stepmother, as his legal guardian, to give her permission for him to be put under drugs and questioned.

When she refused, the authorities took the boy from her and he was placed in the institution for observation. There he was questioned under drugs.

The taped results are much too long and involved in rephrasing of questions to be reproduced here. Instead a synopsis is given of the boy's answers.

I didn't have a mother until daddy married momma. She was nice, but she had three daughters. They were nice, too. But from then on it. was always what they wanted. And, they always got their special things.

Sometimes, it was lots of new dresses and things like that. Momma would go without, herself, just so they could have lots of new clothes.

Then poppa suddenly died and it was a whole new thing. I mean, they were still family, but I didn't have anybody any more-just me and them. So, I guess poppa knew best because he said I should stay with them. In his will, he said so.

After he died, momma started treating me like I was just another daughter. At first, it was fun. But then it got so I couldn't wear pants anymore because I didn't have any, just girls' clothes.

That was in the summer. When it got time to go back to school, momma did something strange-she hired a tutor for us. And for three years, until all of us were out of grade school, we didn't go to public school because we had a tutor.

So, I still dressed like a girl. I was a girl, I thought.

Momma was the boss. She always told us what to do and how to do it and how much of it we should do. As each of my sisters started into puberty, they got their own room. When the last, Kelly started, I had to give up my room so she could have mine. But there was no room for me.

So momma moved me in with her. She had a big double bed and we both slept in it. I was ten that year.

It was in the first week after momma moved me in with her that I got erect. I always went to bed about ten and she didn't come in until later. Anyway, I was lying there, sort of sleeping when she came in.

I guess she thought I was asleep because my eyes were closed. But I was watching her from the corner of my eyes, from under my lids. I watched her undressing.

Momma is a fine built woman. She's tall and very handsome. Her hair is white and frames her face in short kinky curls that make her look real young. She's got laugh lines and crinkles around her eyes. But they only make her look nicer.

She came in, closing the door, quietly, like she always moved. Then she went across to the closet and opened it up. Taking out her nightgown and robe, she put them on the chair and began to undress.

I sort of wanted to let her know that I was awake, but even with three sisters and a mother in the house, I had never seen what a female looked like without clothes, and I was curious. So I lay there and watched her.

When she took off her dress, I saw that she had a wild figure. She was stacked, like all of my sisters. She had big tits and a wide set of hips. Her legs were long and slender as were her waist and neck.

Her skin was creamy and smooth all over, where she was naked. Under her dress she had on panties and a skimpy bra and stockings with a garter belt.

I felt my cock beginning to rise. I ignored it. I felt hot and flashes of color shot across my line of vision. I started having trouble breathing, and my belly kept contracting.

She reached around and unfastened the hooks on her bra. As she slid it off her shoulders, her breasts came into view. They were the softest and most gorgeous looking breasts I'd ever seen. like white hillocks with pink roses on their tops.

They were big, but they were surprisingly firm, standing out from her chest and not drooping much-just an artistic little.

There wasn't an ounce of fat on her chest because I could see her ribs with their softened fleshy outlines.

Then she took her stockings off. Unhooking them one by one, she sat down on the boudoir table and slipped them down over her pale, shapely legs, one at a time. Each time she raised that leg high into the air as she slid them down, and parting her legs, I could see then the darker outline of her vagina and her pubis through the thin nylon of her panties.

I watched her run her hands up and down her legs, like whe was feeling them. I wanted to do that too. And my prick got stiffer. So did my belly, the ache in it making the muscles ridge into hard layers of muscle. My flesh was hot, and I began trembling too.

Then she stood up again. She pulled her panties down and stepped out of them. She was stark naked now, and her dark-haired vagina stood out like a fenced-off patch of growth in a completely denuded area, it was so well defined; a triangle of almost black hair that was solid without a sight of white flesh in it. But there was nothing but white flesh surrounding its straight lines.

I was just a little scared now because I was sure she could hear my heart thundering loudly in my chest. And the quivering in my body must have shook the bed. But she didn't appear to notice.

I watched her stand in front of the mirror and run her hands up and down her body with slow abandon. She lifted her breasts up, holding them with the palms of her hands.

Then she ran her fingers through her pubic hairs, combing them with her fingers. Finally, she spread her legs apart and began to feel and massage herself there.

Her hands were moving with quicker and shorter strokes as she got deeper and deeper into herself. She started to moan and rock slightly on her feet when she stopped abruptly and picked up her nightgown.

She held it in her hands for a short time, running it through her fingers all the time watching herself in the mirror. At last she laid it down on the chair again and reached toward the lights.

She snapped the switch and the room fell into darkness. In the sudden blackness I heard her coming over to the bed. It creaked and tilted as she got in and then she lay still for awhile.

But I could hear her panting and I could smell this wonderful and spicy odor that nearly made me go crazy with desire as I lay there half a foot from her nakedness. I wanted her so badly that the saliva was running in my mouth while my throat was bone dry. I swallowed once or twice and tried to go to sleep.

Suddenly she sat up. Her hand came over and rested on my prick, which was stiff.

"James!" she said, in a low and intense voice, "are you awake?" Even though she said it like a question, it was more like a statement.

I pretended sleep, moaned, and rolled away from her a little.

"James, stop that. I know you're awake." Her hand closed around my cock, covers and all and I felt heat from her long fingered hands soothingly along my prick.

"Turn your face here, James," she ordered me.

And such was my habit of obedience that I turned to face her immediately.

"That's better, son," she said softly. Her voice was different than I had ever heard before. It was soft and really lovely to hear. It was sort of well-modulated and not at all like the shrillish voice that she normally employed with the four of us each day.

Her face was looking large in my eyes and her lips kept moving around, as she licked them with her tongue. Then she laid her lips on mine and kissed me over and over.

Her hand was on my erection still. She took it off, moving her hand slowly up the lump my body made under the covers until she had a hand on the side of my throat and she began massaging my throat.

She began to moan just as she started pushing the covers off my body. When they were below my knees, she brought her hand back up and began to undo my shirt.

As she bared my skinny chest, she massaged my flesh until I was practically climbing the walls with this heat of wanting her. I reached out and touched her breast as it was lying right there beside me.

She liked that because she moaned even louder and more like an animal as she edged her body over onto mine. One of her legs got between mine and I could feel my prick throbbing against the soft inner flesh of her legs and also her vagina.

She kept moving all the time, just a little and this kept me so aroused that I thought I was going to start screaming in a minute. I think she knew because she suddenly spread her legs and straddled me on her knees, pulling herself up over my erection.

She had stopped kissing me to do this. She helped support herself with her hands on the mattress as she rose over me and then pulled her knees up so that her heels were on the sheet. From where I lay, I could see all of her pubic hair and her opened labia lips. They were very red and had distended veins running all over them. Her urinary orifice was swollen and her clitoris was twitching.

Curiously, I raised one hand and with a finger touched that twitching, little knob. She gasped as it throbbed and her whole body shook.

Startled, I removed my fingers, thinking I might have hurt her in some way.

"Put your hand back on my clit," she said. "Make me come."

I did as she said, mostly because I wanted to. I began to wiggle it around and finally grasped it between my finger and thumb, pinching it.

"Oh, that feels good, James; pinch harder. Pull! Twitch it!"

I did as she ordered and the knob grew in my fingers while she was moaning and getting more nervous all the time. She loved it; she was crying names; calling pet names and telling me how badly she wanted this.

Suddenly she cried, "I'm coming!" And her rounded ass fell down on my erection, impaling herself on it. I tried to move, but she fell too fast and I felt my penis forcing its way into her body.

She screamed incoherently and grabbed me by the shoulders.

"Momma! Momma, please. I didn't mean to hurt you!" I cried, fearing greatly that I had badly injured her. "Momma!"

"FUCK!" she screamed. "FUCK! SCREW!

Make me COME!! " And she gripped my shoulders, using them for stabilizers. She began to pull herself up off me, only to fall back down onto me when she was about half way off my cock.

I felt the itch in my prick receding as a pleasurable sort of pressure came into it. I could also see it there, glistening with wetness and shivering as it stiffened itself for her next onslaught.

She relaxed her legs and fell back down onto me again. Several times she did this until I felt my prick suddenly shake violently once before the pressure inside it shot up the length of it and dissipate itself inside her body.

Then I felt warmth and excessive wetness come dribbling back down over my cock, which was still erect. The wetness spread ticklingly down over my groin and into my pubis, smearing itself stickily all over my thighs and her. My little babyish balls-as small and undeveloped as they were-felt the weight of her ass sink down onto them, squashing them into my body and flattening them pleasantly.

"I'm coming!" she shouted as I felt more liquids; this stuff not quite so hot and somehow different in texture than the first shot, as it came down over my cock and mixed with the fluid already there.

Now we were squishing and sliding over each other from the wetness and squishiness.

Suddenly she sighed and I felt her body relaxing as she slowly came down onto the mattress beside me. Her body was still across mine and my half-erect penis was still inside her hole, quivering in the aftermath of my first climax.

After his first two sessions under the drug, James began to relate back into his world from the withdrawal he had been slowly building into over the previous four years. But he was unable to talk about his step-mother or his sisters in any detail that related directly to their interaction as a family. He still could not talk about his sexual relationships with his step-mother.

Interview Two

Although James was beginning to be able to talk more about his sexual relationship with his step-mother, he was still severely withdrawn. On the other hand, it was noted that the conscious knowledge was making him severely neurotic.

As it was felt that he needed time to become used to his 'new' knowledge, he was taken off the drug therapy temporarily.

Instead he was given the normal routine of interviews, on double the amount two each week, instead of the usual one.

The first time he came in, he sat down and said nothing unless asked a direct question.

"What is your mother like?" I began.

"Momma is nice." He said no more.

"What do you mean, nice?"

"She is a wonderful person."

"Always?"

"Yes."

"Is she perfect?"

"Yes. She does always the right thing."

"You're sure that this is right."

"Yes."

"That isn't what you said last week," I told him as I switched on the recorder to play back. "Listen." And for the next half-hour we sat listening to pertinent parts of his tapes from the first and second session under the serum.

When it was through, I turned it off and said, "Now how do you explain that?"

"It isn't true!" His face had gotten alternately red and white during the playback. Now he was ashen gray and trembling. "I couldn't have fucked my momma. That's a sin one of the worst. And she's not a ... a whore ... a slut! She's not lewd ... not dirty! It's a lie! It's a lie!" he screamed and leaped from the chair.

Heading for the recorder, he ran toward the table. I got up hastily and stepped between him and the machine. "Why do you want to destroy that? If it's a lie, why should you care? After all, you know it's a lie, don't you?"

He fell back, frightened and subdued. "Yes. Yes." I could barely hear for the hoarse whispering was so low. "Yes. Lies! All lies. She's wonderful! She's perfect!"

He collapsed into the chair, weeping hysterically, repeating the last two words over and over, "She's perfect! ... she's perfect ... perfect!"

I let him cry and get it all out of his system. After about twenty minutes, he stopped and looked at me. "Why ... why have you made me remember? I was happier not remembering, not thinking. Why?"

"Tell me more. What do you remember? Why do you feel guilty?"

"I'm a sinner. She's fucked with me and I've willingly allowed it. I'm evil. I shall have to be punished!"

"Was that the only time."

"No. There were other times."

"Tell me about them."

I felt horrible about her fucking me and as she did it over and over, I got to feeling worse. There wasn't anyone I could tell about it and so, I just pretended to forget. But I was beginning to have these horrible dreams and nightmares. I had blank spaces in my mind, and I didn't want to investigate them for some reason. I knew if I did I would have to remember something that I didn't want to see.

She would always be around and it seemed that I was getting so that I couldn't live without her. I was so often dressed like my sister and they accepted that. When they would go out, I would prefer to stay at home, so I could be with her. And she didn't seem to mind.

She would send the girls out, like to play and then we would be alone. I would follow her around and always be right with her.

I remember the time that Edna, that's my oldest sister, found us accidentally. We were fucking.

My sisters had gone to a movie and the two younger ones had invited some of their friends along. After the movie, they were to go to the friends' house, Edna too.

We, momma and I, were alone. I helped her wash the dishes and then we went for a long walk in the woods.

She was wearing a nice print dress and I was wearing a skirt and blouse with a jacket. It was summer and neither of us had heavy clothes on. In fact, I didn't have anything but the skirt, blouse and jacket and shoes, of course.

As we walked on, I fell slightly behind her and she waited for me to catch up.

"Come on, dear," she said.

"Yes, momma," I replied as I walked up to her.

She waited for me to get ahead of her and then, I felt her hand on my ass. She began rubbing slowly in big lazy circles, massaging my bums with her working fingers.

I sighed and she slipped her hand down over my balls. I jumped slightly and spread my thighs apart, walking spraddle legged so she could massage my nuts and make me hot.

I felt my prick beginning to stiffen and the pace of my heart stepped up, sending the blood racing through my veins. I heard her panting behind me, and I began to get short of breath, too.

"Baby," she whispered hoarsely, "come to me, baby." Her hand left my nuts and she probed her index finger against my ass-hole, tickling it.

I turned around and came into her arms so she could hug and kiss me. Her mouth came down on mine, her lips hitting against mine with hot vigor and growing passion. Sealed together, I put my arms around her neck and she pulled me tightly against her body.

I could feel her heavy tits flattening against my chest and the beating of her pulses. I felt her two nipples getting harder and sticking into my skin. Restlessly, I began to rub my chest across her boobs, arousing her through them.

She moaned and thrust her tongue into my mouth, caressing the inside of my oral cavity and sticking her long muscle down my throat. I didn't gag, but swallowed several times, keeping the tip at the back of my throat.

Then her tongue pulled back and our two tongues twined around each other, wiggling and playing together. Her nipples were stiff and poking into my chest, rubbing across my nipples, and they stiffened.

Her hands ran up and down my back. She pulled the shirt from the waist band of my skirt and began to run her hands over my naked back. I felt myself getting excruciatingly excited.

I wanted to fuck.

She knew that and we began to get down on the moss beneath some nearby trees. Once down, I went to undo her clothes but she stopped me. So, we contented ourselves with getting under the skirts. My prick was flapping lightly against my belly when her hands came up under my skirt and gripped my cock.

Lying back, she spread her legs and began guiding me into her twat. Supporting myself on one hand, I ducked my head down and took my prick in hand, heading it toward her gaping hole.

She was grimacing with the intensity of her desire. Her cunt was purplish and streaked with the veining of her swollen cunt flesh. Her twat was black it was so deep in, and her clitoris was scarlet red and huge.

My erection entered her hole and I rammed myself into her all the way, smashing against her widespread thighs and making her grunt. She arched into me, relaxing only when I was driving into her. She arched up, slamming herself against me as I came down into her on each stroke.

I felt the quickly built tensions beginning to ease just slightly as I entered her. Then, they built again until after a few minutes of quick screwing of her cunt hole, I felt my prick throb from the back forward and my gathering scum shot from me into her hole.

She screamed with passion as she felt the hot juices stream into her body from my nozzle and fell back while she climaxed right after me.

I felt her body tense and then relax as she heaved once and her cream came down over my prick, readying it for another fuck.

We rested for a few minutes, my prick still inside her cunt. I rubbed her tits and massaged them with my palms. Stretching my body up, I could reach them and kiss her nipples. My tongue stretched itself out and ran over them again, until the goose bumps were inflamed with the redness of erotic irritation.

I heard her beginning to gasp again, and I knew she was getting hotter and ready to fuck again. I, too, was getting stiffer. My prick was jumping around inside her cunt, throbbing against her cunt hole walls, hitting the various surfaces.

"Now," she said.

And at her orders, I began to ride her twat, driving into her and pulling out. My hands were over her tits, just covering the top parts and her nipples.

She was running her hands up and down my back, stroking my ass.

I felt it retract and quiver as I continued to buck up and down on her now-arching and tossing groin.

She moaned and groaned, throwing her body around so that I was hard put to stay on top of her. But, by grabbing hard onto her tits with my hands, I managed to keep a hold on her and stayed inside her.

She screamed, finally and I felt her come streaming down over my throbbing organ. But she didn't collapse. Instead, she continued to arch, thrusting her hips against me each time I drove into her body.

She was coming in smaD and fierce little climaxes, one right after another. Her passion kept mounting, though, instead of tapering off. And she was clawing my shoulders now, her fingernails raking down over my flesh, sometimes drawing blood.

She screamed, her words ringing through the quiet of the woods, "Fuck me! Piss in my ass! Screw the twat out of me!"

Each time she used one of those short and explicative expressions, I found myself fucking her all the harder, all the more fierce, and with all the more intention of making her hurt for this particular fuck.

But she lapped it all up, taking it all in and demanding more. I fucked at her body until I was more tired than usual and I came, colllapsing down onto her as the last of my gism dribbled from my falling prick into her hole.

Her arms came around me again, and she held me close to her body, panting and whispering names endearments in my ear.

Neither of us was aware of anything around us. Neither of us cared what happened for those few moments, we were experiencing our ending and nothing mattered.

"Mother!" The voice didn't register for an instant.

"James! Mother! What's happened? Are you all right? Edna stood over us, staring at us, her face showing total disbelief and shock.

"Edna!" momma said, "what are you doing here? Where are your sisters?"

"I ... they...." She stopped, blushed and fell silent, still staring at her mother and myself in our partial nudity with our genitals exposed and mingled.

"Well...? " Momma questioned her.

"They're at Alice's, momma. I ... I had to

... to ... uh ... change." She paled and blushed again, standing first on one leg, and then on the other, filled with embarrassment and a lack of understanding.

"Then, go change and leave us alone. Go back to Alice's like I told you before."

"But, momma.... "

"Go!"

She turned, pain standing out in her eyes as well as confusion and left, heading back to the house. Momma turned away instantly, but I looked long enough to see the blood stains on her skirt and knew she had bled like momma did every month.

"Come," she said, "let's fuck!" And, with that, she proceeded to roll me over onto my back. With me under her, she came up onto her knees and off my cock.

My prick fell from her body almost before she got off me. She straddled me further down, around my knees, and bent over my prick. Her hair dangled in my flesh, tickling me.

As her mouth came closer to my limp prick, one of her loam smeared hands came up and cupped around my balls. I felt the warmth and wetness of her mouth on my prick as she took my sagging head and sucked it into her lips, laving it with her tongue.

I jumped and felt the waves of desire sweeping back over me in hot crashes of deepening need. She was working her tongue and lips over my stem, slowly devouring it and scintillating it all at the same time.

And her hand on my balls, squeezing, massaging, working them around in their wrinkled little sac. I was again rising on a cloud and chasing after that elusive heaven of utopic desires she aroused in me every time.

Then, she swallowed the end of my penis down her throat and I felt it being worked on by her throat muscles, carrying me into a spasm of delight. I shook all over, trembling in every limb and my muscles tensed as I felt myself gathering for another come.

Her free hand she suddenly shoved into her cunt, wiggling it around until she had it jammed as high into her as she could make it go. Then, she forced herself down onto my legs, spreading her thighs so far apart that her legs were perpendicular to her body and my knees were forcing her hand even deeper into her body.

She moaned against my prick, the vibrations strumming through my flesh and up into my groin. My belly tightened as I reached for her swinging and hanging tits.

Grabbing them, one in each hand, I squeezed and pulled on them, pinching the rosy swellings of nipples until she screeched, muffled against my prick, and sank her teeth into the base of my hard cock.

I jumped, arching as high as I could go and drove my exploding cock into her throat as my gism shot deep into her mouth, almost choking her with the surprising swiftness of my coming.

This was the third time and for me, a rest was in order. I was exhausted. She was too. Flopping down beside me just after she had shrieked again and come, thick cream pouring down over her trapped hand, she lay beside and partially over me, panting with quick hoarseness that flushed her face and her tits as they hurriedly flopped up and down on her fluttering chest.

Only later, did we get up, dress and start back home.

CONCLUSION

Even though James has finally fully recalled and learned to talk about his experiences with his mother, he is not well. His guilt complex still alienates him from life and from contact with people.

He cannot understand that this is not something that people read, like a brand on his forehead, and shrink away from him in horror of. Yet, he feels that he does wear such a brand and that people do know.

He definitely feels condemned and outcast. He cannot correlate with either men or women on any basis. He does not have erections, yet he consistently has nightmares wherein he relates that he is held up for public scorn by his sisters and that he is ostracized by all the people in his dreams.

With his doctor, he can talk. But he does not join into any group activities. If forced to participate, he quite often becomes physically ill in accordance with what the participation is. For instance, if he is outside on a sunny day, he faints from the heat or the light. If he is playing cards, he forgets how to play or loses his cards. If he is dancing, he trips over his partners, often bruising them and eventually they refuse to dance with him. And, if he is lodged with another patient, he has screaming fits and throws temper tantrums. In these tantrums, he often picks up handy objects and throws them with amazing accuracy at his roommates.

From the pedestal he had erected for his stepmother, he has cast her image down into the deepest pits of his self-hate. And he used only the vilest terms, now, to describe her, consistently calling her such things as: 'slut' or 'bitch' or 'perverted whore' or 'bull dyke.'

He refused to see her when she comes to visit him, and the one time he did not, he attempted to rape her as soon as they were left alone.

In the course of the year he has been at the institution, he has often written to his stepsisters and received letters from all three of them. He does not ask after or mention his stepmother. They do not mention her. He appears to be genuinely fond of them and thinks well of them, including h'is eldest sister, who saw him copulating with his mother in the woods.

Because of the slowness of his progress, it is anticipated that James will be several years longer in the institution before he is able to function in the outside world.

However, it is anticipated that, under the circumstances, James will do quite well when he leaves.

CASE HISTORY FIVE

Interview One

Subject's Name: Boyd McCaulley Subject's Age: 19

Stepmother's Name: Stephenie Liggate McCaulley

Stepmother's Age: 19

Boyd McCaulley made his first appointment for himself. He was a tall and thin young man of nineteen, very nervous and quite accident prone. In getting through the door, he knocked his hip against the frame, toppled two chairs coming across the room and almost didn't get into his while he kicked his shin against the side of the desk in sitting down.

Each accident called for a severe blushing on his part and profuse and mumbled apologies. Finally, when he was seated, he slouched down in his chair and stared most carefully by my head out the window. He appeared to be most embarrassed, not so much of his accidents, but just of being in a psychologist's office.

"I," he said, "have a problem." It was a statement.

"You are aware of your problem, then?"

"Yes. I am quite aware of it. Unfortunately, I can't see the straight of it. And it's one of those emotionally complicated things that always gets one entangled in the wrong side of things. Family messes." He smiled shyly, and then bit his lip.

"Then you need advice?"

"Yes. Or rather, I need an uninvolved opinion because at this point, I don't know what is and what isn't anymore."

"I see. Would you like to begin outlining the problem?" Reaching down I turned on the recorder and sat back to listen.

I met or rather, I found Stephenie existed when we were juniors in high school. She is a wonderful girl, so tall and beautifully proportioned. She always made good marks in school, was popular with everybody and dated a reasonable amount.

We dated a few times and decided to go steady. All through our last two years of school, we went together. And I asked her to marry me when we got out of school.

What was so strange, is that she turned me down almost without hesitation, saying that she had planned to marry someone else someone with money and position because she was used to that sort of life and she would have it, regardless.

I was heartbroken, of course. But I knew I would survive. I loved her tremendously, but she wasn't the only girl in the world. See? If I could love her, I could and would love again.

What I couldn't understand was why she would turn me down for another, when I had, or would inherit as much wealth as she could ever want. My father is a rather wealthy business manufacturer and we have more money than, I suppose, is good for two people to have control of.

Anyway, I pointed this out to her.

"Not withstanding," she said, "but I want the money and position now. Besides, he's a mature man and I do like older men. I will make him an excellent wife. He has no small children to be raised, and I certainly do not plan to have any, myself."

"But, honey," I said, "look, we've been so close and we go so well together. We've even slept together, and you know I've got money."

"When did you sleep together and why?" I wanted to know.

"Is it irrelevant," he asked back.

"It may be," I replied, "I don't know yet."

"All right, I'll retrack."

Stephanie and I had been dating steadily for several months. We often spent several hours on the weekend together long evening hours sometimes studying, sometimes just being together.

It developed between us. First it was just kissing, and of course, like other things, it got more and more involved.

That first summer a whole group of us, crazy for the shore and swimming, surfing, and that life, took a couple of weeks vacation and went down to one of those resort places later in the summer.

Stephanie and I were very close then. I remember the first time. We had been down at Nag's head for a day. And she and I just wanted to be alone for a couple of hours, so we wandered off from the group.

They never missed us, they were all so busy necking and petting, anyway. But we wanted to be alone, that's all.

It was a coolish day with a nice breeze. Hand in hand we walked along the miles of shore and then decamped through the twilight of the afternoon woods that were growing near the blinding light of the naked shore.

It was a cultivated natural woods, so there were lots of little paths and small clearings in it. Relatively little underbrush.

When we came to a secluded and smallish place that took our imagine, we stopped. Sitting down beside her, I put my arm around her naked shoulder and leaned toward her.

Stephanie is well stacked. And with her sun-bleached light blonde hair, her blue eyes and deeply tanned skin, she was superbly striking in her vividly green two-piece suit.

Anyway, she's well-built, with tits and hips that make her waist that much smaller and long slender legs that were always getting tangled in with mine. Not that I disliked having tangled legs I loved it!

Anyway, I leaned over, putting my hand up and turning her smooth face toward me. Our lips met and clung sensuously together for a long still moment.

I could feel her fingers on the back of my neck as they massaged the flesh-covered bumps in my upper spine in small lazy circles. Shivers ran up and down my back.

Her lips on my lips was like a heady draught of wine, sweet and heavy at the same time. I began spiraling up up up!

Her mouth moved against mine, parting her lips so that my tongue could enter that sweet cavity and re-explore the lush fruit of her mouth. I sampled the smoothness of her pearly teeth and the liquid softness of her inner cheek flesh, before probing slowly down her long throat.

She was used to my methods, suppressing her tongue until I had explored thoroughly. Then, her oral muscle bounded up, snagging itself around mine and our tongues entwined, rasping across each other.

She sighed and I twisted my head, taking my first deep breath since my nose had been pressed into her face. Our lips were even more completely annealed together than before as I pulled her tightly close to me.

I could feel the small points of pressure from her stiffening nipples through her bra as they dug into my flesh, making small depressions. This awareness began to make my crotch itch and my prick, slowly filled into blood-gored purple stiffness, rising as far as it could against the light canvas of my slacks.

The sitting position was straining both our backs and my legs were beginning to go numb with doubling up. So, I leaned forward, bearing her back down into the soft dark loam of the forest floor.

She moaned softly as I lay her back and twisted beneath me, running her hands up into my hair and tugging gently on strands of it. Her mobile fingers found one of my ears and she began to tease it, rubbing the upper portions and pinching the lobe.

I felt the blood thundering through my body and I broke out in a light perspiration from the intensification of desires for her. As I stepped up into ecstasy, I sweated more and more until my body was covered with a sheen that the loam clung to in patches.

I ran my hand down her hot shoulder, feeling the smoothness of her sweat-glazed flesh as it ran beneath my palm. My finger brushed the side of her tit, and we both jumped from the unexpected contact. Pleased, but still surprised.

I took the action, transferring my hand from her arm to cover her clad tit, feeling the heat from her boob through the bathing suit top.

"Oh, darling," she moaned as the kiss ended, "I love you!"

"I love and adore you." And I kissed her neck, running my tongue over her pulsating flesh, following the line of her throbbing artery. Her flesh was warm and moist. She smelled like flowers and moss and freshly mown grass. I inhaled deeply of her scent, loving every facet of it.

I kissed the hollow of her neck and squeezed her tit at the same time.

"Yes, darling," she cried low. "Yes."

Thus sanctioned, I reached around down her back to undo the hooks of her bra, freeing her luscious globes.

As her' unfastened bra fell away, her huge tits, pale against her tan and popped into view. She rounded her shoulders, letting the straps of the suit fall down her dark and smooth arms.

I slid them sensuously down to her wrists and she pulled her hands out. Tossing the garment aside, carelessly, I lay her back on the ground and covered a swelling tit with each hand.

Squeezing gently, I kissed the hollow between her breasts, lapping the salty sweat from that valley and loving the sharp taste of it.

I sighed and kissed her throat again. She moved against me, her long legs spreading just slightly. Negligently, I rolled one of my hairy legs across one of her smooth shaven ones, so that my prick was resting against her hipbone, just on the inside of it almost on her bush.

She sighed and wiggled her ass at me, grinning.

"What is it, baby?" I asked.

"Nothing," she grinned back, kissing the tip of my puzzled nose and wrinkling her own. "I just love you, that's all."

"That's enough for now," I retorted. "I want to love you not just talk about my passion."

"Sure," she said, sticking her tongue out at me. "That's what they all say. I'm the expert, you know."

I laughed. "You're such a fucking little witch!"

"I know," she said laughing with me. "I know." And she rubbed her free foot up and down my leg, sending thrills racing up my body and I shook from the desires that were forcing themselves to the forefront.

"Baby!" I cried as I began to succumb to my mounting passions.

She giggled at me and thrust her melons up at my face, tempting me. Uncovering one with my quick thrusting fingers, making the nipple pop through the fingers, I moved my tongue over and began lapping roughly on it.

She squealed and began rotating her hips, digging her rounded ass into the loam as she picked up in intensity.

Her passions were mounting as were mine. I loved this in her she could pace herself to me.

Becoming most high with her, I sucked her rosebud nipple into my mouth, pulling hard on it and rasping my tongue over it again and again.

Her pink tit tip began stiffening into harder dimensions of rigidity. I felt her other one doing the same, and ran my fingers over and over it until it popped through my fingers with a resounding plink.

The very sound incensed me so that I pulled harder on her tit and she cried out with a small pain of her passion. I wanted her wanted to take her on the spot. But I knew I wouldn't simply because she had not asked or requested me to.

But again, it didn't turn out that simple.

"Boyd," she cried, "fuck me. Stick your number into my hole and make me scream 'til I come and flood you out! Make me love!"

She had asked and that decided it. My hands froze, just momentarily on her tits before they began working slowly down over her slippery body and my lips followed close behind. I wanted her so badly that I almost fucked her that instant.

But I was able to hold myself in so that I could enjoy it with her, instead of enjoying just her. That would have been disastrous.

Her belly was hot and smooth, dry, too. She heaved several times as she tried to keep her breathing regular. Of course it was impossible, but she tried. I smiled inside of me, thinking how hard she wanted me to fuck her on one hand, and how hard she was attempting to keep me from knowing just how desperate her need was!

My hand on her stomach, rotating around on that slight hillock of lusciously smooth flesh, just barely accented by a fine sprinkling of little and almost invisible hairs, warmed to its task. "Soon," I replied, "very soon, love." And then I kissed her again, this time on the underside of a tit, nosing it aside and lapping at the moist dark heat that her loose bosom engendered by lying on her chest.

My hand slid further down, down to her bushy pubis where my fingers nestled. Placing my hand squarely over her bush, I felt the vibrations of her rotating hips below. It insended me almost stiff and I wanted her so badly.

But I thought what about her virginity? Wouldn't it be gone when I penetrated her?

"Fuck me!" she cried, almost as though she sensed my hesitation. I didn't want to deflower her, because it was a big responsibility.

"Screw the hell out of me, love. Boyd!" And her lips came up to my ear, closing around my lobe, before she sank her teeth into my sensitive ear. I jumped as the pain shot through my body.

Then I moved. I felt her legs beginning to spread as I lowered my heaviness down onto her. My cock was hard with desire and my balls were jiggling with desire for me to finish the job. I still had my hand on her cunt hair, massaging it.

My mind was beginning to blank out. All I could see was her and her desire, mingling with mine. I wanted her so badly. My hand slipped down the bulge of her cunt and into it slowly, taking all the time in the world.

I found her clit and began massaging it. It felt like a monster, sticking way out from her smooth flesh like a prick like my prick.

She jumped and screeched as my finger and thumb pinched her clit again and again. I felt it stiffen even more than before and the heat from it was warming my fingertips.

I ran my other fingers into her vagina as well, feeling her whole long pussy with its moist and smooth inner skin. Then, I grunted, knowing that I should come soon if I didn't get inside of her. I would come anyway.

My other hand, that was still on her tit, moved down as I braced myself to move my other hand down to separate her thighs. She would have willingly done it, but I preferred to do it especially, this time.

I felt her creamy thighs, running my hands up and down the soft, yielding flesh of her legs, enjoying just the gentle touch and feel of them as they were. As I did it, I applied slight pressure and her thighs slowly moved apart. Helped in this way, she let me move her legs and at the same time, I began to come over onto her. To keep the length of the time from slowly slipping from my grasp, I began to kiss her throat again, interspersing the caresses with endearments.

Then I was there and she was lying on her back with me between her thighs and poised over her eager cunt. The hand I had inside her pussy was fingering her cunt hole around the edges. I could feel the fluttering ring of muscles around the edge of her twat.

"Come on, baby," she whispered hoarsely. "Let's get down to the fucking business. My cunt's burning."

So without further delay, I began guiding my hard-on into her hole. When I touched the edge of her twat, I could feel the grabbing of her muscle as she began sucking me in.

With hardly a thrust I was almost halfway into her, when I came up against a barrier her cherry. I stopped as she gasped from the pressure against the flap of skin, keeping me from taking her.

I sucked up a deep sigh and plunged on, snapping it at least in half as I shoved my long stem into her hole. Her scream, by then, didn't move me as I was thinking only of the delights I was experiencing in the tautness of her body.

She screamed from the pain, as it must have been fierce. Her body, though, arched and rammed itself up into my groin as she reacted to the drive I threw into her.

Then, before she could rebel, I began to ride her, whipping my prick in and out of her, sending it all the way into her body each time, sounding bottom on every stroke. Her ass left the soil each time, in rhythm, and met me half way up as I came down. I plunged on, bearing her back to the ground and rubbing her ass in it as well.

She was whimpering and crying, her head thrashing from side to side in her passion as she felt me thrusting into her each time before backing off. I tried to capture her head, finding that I had to use my hands.

Taking one hand and placing it on either side of her cheeks, I grabbed and held her head, forcing her to hold still for that one second. Staying down in her, for a rest I was getting slightly winded and close to coming I lay on her and forced her to reciprocate my kiss.

My lips came down hard on hers and I forced my tongue into her mouth, shoving her lips aside and her teeth I maneuvered with pressure from my thumbs. She groaned from the added pain, which I ignored and continued pressing my point.

Her body was trembling with her desires and she was crying, moaning against my mouth. I felt the vibrations from her vocalization and pressed on, thrusting my tongue along with my cock, each in a different hole, but each persuing the same goal. I felt the pressure growing in the back of my penis and I knew, now that in a couple of strokes, no more, I would be shooting my load into her twat, flooding her and myself with the intrinsic self.

"Baby," I whispered hoarsely, ending the kiss, and lifting my face from her mouth. "I'm

"I know," she cried back, opening her eyes and staring straight at me. "I'm doing the same thing."

"Great!" I was happy and aware of her again.

Then, the time came. I felt the scum gathering deep inside of me and shoving down as the ripple of muscle surged from the back of my prick to the very tip and the swollen slit that throbbed against the back of her passage.

"Now!" and it came flying down my tube to crash into her muscles, and then reverberate down the sides of our united being. The stickiness grew as the gism creamed from her filled slit and spread in wider circles around my groin. I became, like her, sticky and we clung together.

She arched until her whole body but her heels and her shoulders were off the ground before screaming and flopping down onto the soil as her legs wrapped themselves closely and tightly around my ass, pulling me in on her hard.

Panting we lay that way, me on top of her and her with her legs around me, until our bodies had cooled off. We kissed lightly and warmly, as I felt her responding. My cock was still inside of her and imprisoned by her locked ankles.

I felt it as it slowly fizzled to half-mast before it began to rise again. I knew we would fuck again soon.

"And yet, after all this," he said, "she kept claiming that she loved me. You see, that was over a year ago, and now she's my stepmother."

"You mean, she did marry our father?" I felt incredibly stupid. One read about such happenings in history books, but in this day and age!"

"Yes, she did. How she caught him, I'm not sure I even know. No. Yes! I do!"

But his time was up. I was interested enough to want to hear this one for its own sake. He made a second appointment.

Interview Two

The next week, Boyd wanted to go straight into his love's capture of his father and how she became his stepmother. After I had quickly switched on the recorder, he got launched into his recitation.

During that first damned summer, we began spending lots of time at my house. There were things to be done at home that couldn't be done out. We went riding and boating and swimming and the like. In the early summer, when Dad closed up the big house, we always moved to the little one and the country with its vistas and land.

She often came out for the weekend. I'd meet her on the Friday night train and see her back into the station early on Monday morning, when she and Dad would often go together. I realize, of course, thinking back on it, that she was the one who originally suggested that Monday morning would be better and easier than going back so late on Sunday night.

I suppose, I was a dumb kid, but I didn't think anything of it. She and Dad did get on so well, and I liked the idea of the girl I loved and my father hitting it off. To me, as the only one in each of their lives connected to both, that it was better if my wife to be and my father who was got along so well. I never thought and it never crossed my mind!

Anyway, while I don't know the exact processes she used on him, that was the time she had to do it. There wasn't any other way.

But I was completely ignorant and completely, blindly in love. On the other hand, I do remember, a particular scene now that I look back in the whole context, perhaps it should have been significant.

It was during one of our class vacations in the winter. Not a usual one, but a long one. Just for kicks, we opened up the little house. It was gorgeous, with all the snow and the winter scene. It was a great change from the city.

Well, on this night, Dad had professed a tiredness, and left us downstairs by the fire alone. We had eaten a big dinner, having wine, which always makes me just a little sexy. We lay before the blazing logs, our arms around each other just talking nonsense you know what lovers do.

I turned and kissed her, she responding with a heady passion that almost threw me at the moment. I could feel her lips whispering across mine, their softness working down inside of mine and heading for my tongue.

Swallowing hastily, I pressed forward and crushed her to me, rolling over to be almost on top of her. My hands were around her body, rubbing her back and pulling her long blonde hair. I twisted my head sideways, getting a more succulent taste of her willing and generous mouth while at the same time I shoved my tongue into her throat.

My prick shoved impatiently, already, against my pants. I could feel my balls riding down on the base of it and tickling me into higher passion. I wanted her!

The kiss ended and my lips trailed down over her jawbone and across her slender now-white throat to the edge of her low-necked sweater. I had been sitting all evening almost creaming my pants as those boobs rose and fell against the clinging wool of that up-thrusting sight.

Now I was at the edge and nuzzling down under. There was annoying pieces of yard getting in my mouth and I was searching hard for the fastening. Finding none, I suppose I must have looked nonplussed for a moment because she began to giggle at me.

I looked at her and she burst into her gay and fetching laugher, opening her mouth wide and throwing her head back.

"Damn it all," I cussed half grinning, "where the heck does this screwy thing come off?"

"Over the head, darling," she gasped between huffs and puffs.

"Oh well, then remove it." I stared at her heaving tits, wishing they were bare so I could suck their pink nipples into my yearning mouth. I saw the outline of her saucy nipples against the stretching fabric and knew they were standing erect already.

My free hand came around and cupped itself over her tit, regardless that she had it still clad. She looked at me and realized my persistence and laughed again.

"That does it, woman," I growled as I stuck my tongue out at her. "Now you're in it for good." Quick as a flash my fingers snatched the neckline of her sweater down and her unconfined tit popped out.

My lips found it and I sucked the rosy nipple in, running my tongue across the hobbly surface.

Replacing the tit in my hand and holding it gently I raised my head and smiled at her. "Didn't think I'd do it, did you?"

She looked at me and her eyebrows rose a fraction. Next her hands were around my neck and she was pulling me down onto her mouth again. Our lips met and I felt the familiar and wonderful flashes crossing from flesh to flesh, coursing up and down my body, making me tremble with the thrilling wonderment of it all.

I felt her hands at the back of my neck, massaging and caressing my flesh, making it hot and sweaty with latent and growing desire. Then her fingers were dripping down under my collar and the other hand was slipping up, up, up! Into my hair. I had let my hair grow this winter and there was lots of it for her to work on.

She did. I sucked my breath in fast as her teasing fingers went around a few thin strands and yanked, hard. My head went flying back while she brought her face up and kissed the front of my throat. Then she nipped my Adam's apple, playfully.

"Hey, watch it! I need that for swallowing, you know."

"Now just what the fucking has to do swallow," she said in mock jealousy.

"What else but your come, when we do sixty-nine, remember."

"Oh yeah, now that you mention it." And she kissed me again, gently this time, on the same spot she had nipped just a second ago.

"There," she said, "now you won't bleed to death before you fuck my cunt, love."

"Thanks," I said. "I appreciate staying alive to serve you."

"Fuck me!"

"All right. All right!" I stuck a finger down under her sweater and pulled her other tit up. Burying my head into them I kissed them all over, covering them with my tongue and a layer of shining and shimmering saliva before I moved down to her heaving belly.

She brought one hand around to the front of my shirt and the buttons began to pop open faster than I had moved to her tits. Then, I felt her hand on my chest, rubbing and working her fingers through the growth of hair, there.

My chest was heaving with gasping breaths and the blood pounded through my body, flushing my skin darker than usual as my chest and throat and then my face got red with excitement.

She pulled me down to her again, and kissed my nipples, slurping her tongue over them and the surrounding curls, pasting the dark hairs to the surface of my skin. I felt the roughness of her tongue as it washed across my flesh and I quivered again, shots of electric sparks tearing down my back and across my belly.

Ridges of muscles hardened and grew taut as my cock jumped spasmodically in its confinement. I felt so tense that I trembled violently all over.

"What's wrong, baby?"

"Nothing. I just want you so badly that that-"

"Shit! Of course. If you're desperate-"

"Oh you," I said, ruffling her tits savagely with the palms of my hands. "You're impossible! Totally, completely, absolutely impossible!"

"I know. That's half my charm." She grinned at me and stuck her tongue out again.

Then I felt her hands move down over my body, one on the outside and ot other inside, flush against my skin. And her fingernails were lightly scratching my body, riding over my ribs and jumping from rib to rib.

"Ouch!"

"Sorry, hon." She was sincere because she stopped digging so hard. But her hands continued making downward progress all the same. Lower and lower she went, I getting more and more impatient.

It seemed that the lower she went the slower she went. I was itching for her to be at my prick, for her to be fondling my balls, for her index finger to be probing into my ass-hole, walking over my bums.

She stopped, her hand spread across the sides of my waist, and squeezed tightly.

"My," she quipped, "what a small waist you have."

She squeezed harder. This time I simply squeezed her tits and hard so that the nipples popped out, all red and swollen and bumpy. She stopped when I smashed her tits hard and I knew they hurt.

"Okay, you win," she said and moved directly to my belt and began to open it. The buttons were next.

Exuberantly, my prick jumped out and slapped itself noisily against her belly before rebounding back to mine.

"Wow!" I said, looking down at my other head, "you're more eager than I am!"

She looked down as well. "No, he's not. He's just making up for long imprisonment."

Now it was her turn to be opened. That was easier as she wore a skirt that evening. Dropping both my hands down her sides sensuously caressing her flesh as I went, I slid my fingers up under the edge of her skirt and began letting my four fingers crawl up her naked thighs.

Removing one hand, I propped myself up on an elbow and decided to watch the revelation of her cunt. Slowly the skirt came up, showing her creamy legs and her smooth and slightly glistening thighs that trembled with tiny little muscular spasms.

Then her half revealed cunt, peeking from the lacy holes in he; panties, showed itself here and there, mostly in dark relief. I laid my hand across her pussy muff, feeling the silkiness of the panties and the penetrating heat from her cunt at the same time. Rubbing, I felt the swirling of her hairs around underneath and the beginning of her muscles moving as her thighs began undulating in small circles.

Encouraged, I inched my fingers higher, teasing her by walking them up her belly, digging them into the yielding mounds of her slightly rounded belly.

She giggled as it tickled and I also dug into her navel. I persisted there for an instant and she was almost in hysterics, laughing.

Continuing up, I felt for the elastic of her panties, hooking my index finger over it. Her hips left the floor without missing a single round and I slipped her panties down over her rounded ass.

Using that opportunity, I rubbed her fanny with both hands, swinging my other arm in at the elbow and slipping the otherwise occupied one around her hip. Her ass was as soft as it ever was and just as full. The curves of her bums hung a little more because of their position and they were hubbled with tight little patterns of depressions from the tension of her muscles holding her arched back.

My face came down onto her muff and I smelled of her feminine odor as it rose in unseen clouds around my face. Closing my eyes, made it better. I could, then, concentrate on just her smell.

My mouth seemed to be working over her muff as though it had a mind of its own. I mean, I was sort of, suddenly, sitting off and feeling all of this indirectly while the whole thing went on. It was a nice sort of feeling, but sort of scary, too. It had never happened before.

She tasted good! Better, in fact, since it was the first time I'd ever attempted to eat her in winter. She was sort of crisp and sweet and soft and spicy and salty all the same time. Especially, she was salty.

"Honey," she said, interrupting me, "let's do a sixty-nine."

Instead of answering, I began pulling my body around so that I could get my cock up to her mouth. At the same time I was moving, she was too, and in the direction that brought us together halfway between two extremes.

Her cunt was still with me and it was glorious. I stuck my face against the beginning of the crack, just below where her pussy opened into her holes and pulled up at the little 'V' of a flap that covered her just there.

She wiggled spreading her legs about halfway, bending one up and pulling it out of the way so that I had a creamy thigh right against my cheek. It felt warm and soft and smooth.

I sighed as I rubbed my cheeks and chin against her flesh and she giggled from the other end, spraying her hot breath all over my cock. I stood up and took notice, practically begging to be fucked by her mouth.

The heat from her mouth didn't go away, so I knew she was near, and getting nearer. I waited for her lips to touch the swollen lips of my slit.

They did. I felt the sudden touch of warmth against warmth as her lips touched my cock and she breathed again on it, exhaling through her noise.

Her lips parted and I felt the head of my prick, especially the lips of the slit, being nipped by her strong and sharp front teeth. I was about to say something when her tongue replaced them, shoving itself against and through the gaps in the meeting of her front teeth. It felt good.

Going back to concentrating on her clit, I stuck my tongue tip inside her lips and searched around until I found her stiff little knot. It was standing up, waiting for me, almost. I washed the stiff tip against it and over it.

I felt her stiffen all over as a wave of small spasms crashed through her body. Thinking she might have climaxed, I probed around her twat with my finger, feeling for the wetness. It was no more than the usual lubrication, so she must just have reacted, that's all.

Anyway, her lips slid down over the head of my cock and widened over the fluted crown, taking her teeth with them. She began to dig her pearly white fore teeth into the flesh just back of my glans penis so that I wouldn't slip out of her mouth so easily.

Her cunt was moist and slippery with heavy secretions from her twat. It smelled so sweet and succulently tasty that I had a hard time getting from where I was to her twat. I just didn't want to leave her clit. Especially when, pausing to rest my straining tongue, I returned to flipping her love knot, only to make her jump in small spasms again.

This time she groaned delightedly and I wanted to try it again, but I went slowly down to her twat, instead. Passing her piss hole, I squashed it back with my tongue and she jumped again, moaning that she loved it all and give her more more, more.

Sliding down to her hole, I began running my tongue around the edge in faster and faster circling strokes, revving her up into a grand finale of a climax. I wanted her to explode and come like I often did, just sort of expanding suddenly and almost not getting back together.

It was a marvelous feeling! Her hole expanded just a little for my tongue as I made a first pass at it, thrusting in quickly and backing out to make another run around her cunt hole's lips. Then I went back into her again, this time adding the sucking of my lips as they touched her hole.

Pulling on it, I thrust my tongue in as far as it would go and again felt the tiny scar that the taking of her cherry had left in its happy wake.

Her mouth was sliding up and down over my stem, exciting me closer and closer into complete climax. I didn't want to come just yet, but she must have wanted to have a long several sessions tonight, or she was already massaging my scrotum and kneading my nuts around.

They kept rolling and hitting against each other, and that also heightened my desire almost again to the point of shooting. But I held back, forcibly, trying to time myself with her.

Her breath was coming in jerky spasms that knocked against the flesh between my legs, splitting and rehitting my nuts and parts of my groin close in and against my prick. I was feeling it irregularly even though I could feel her tongue lapping and roving over thy circular width of my full prick.

Her teeth, she was using to scrape lightly when she neared the lower part of my cock, and it felt great. She stopped once or twice, resting, and I felt the beat of a pulse hers not mine on my prick. It could have been her tongue, and it could have been my prick, just as easily.

I dove into her cunt hole, snapping my tongue up into her and wiffling it around so that it was banging different parts of her cunt hole walls and they reverberated with the mounting tensions of her inner body.

At this point, my hand came up and I began to massage her tits with it. My other hand was still down there on her ass, and I remembered it as it tingled. So, both to excite her and to make the numbness leave, I began to knead her rounded butt, squeezing her soft flesh over and over until my fingers were stiff from doing it.

She groaned passionately as she writhed and kept her hips moving. Speeding it up, I had a hard time staying with her as she rolled herself around, throwing her whole body back and forth. Her legs, though, stayed spread getting further and further apart, if anything.

I knew her head would be snapping back, and forth, her hair flying around, whipping her in the face by now. But I was too busy below to look.

She heaved her tit up, crushing it against my hand as I closed all five of my fingers, spread open, into her soft boob. The nipple shoved its stiffness hard into my palm and also back into her tit, leaving a small ring of doubled flesh around itself.

"I'm coming!" she cried and I prepared for her juices to flow down over my tongue and into my mouth. But I actually came first, for it suddenly gathered inside the base of my cock, and milling around for an instant while the pressure built up, came shuddering from my prick in a single long shot of gism that streamed down her throat in a lump of thick cream.

Then she came as her body tensed once and jerked. Her flow poured down, inundating my tongue and almost choking me. But I swallowed hastily, taking it in and going back, eagerly, for more.

She continued to flow for a short while, tapering off slowly, and that gave me time to lick up the dross that clung to the sides of her twat walls.

Using my tongue like a rubber scraper, I slid it along the walls, washing the excess and funneling it back down my throat. It was sort of a spicy flavor, mostly just plain female to me. I loved it!

When the last of her come was down my throat, I felt her beginning to relax. My prick was not nearly as stiff as before, having fallen off some. But it wasn't limp, by any means.

She would get her wish, if that was it, and we would screw or fuck or something the like, more that night.

"Did you?"

"Yes. A couple of times, more, as a matter-of-fact. The next time I fucked her ass and the third time I think I did her cunt. Yes, that's the order eating, sodomizing, and fucking.

We both got kicks out of the whole shindig."

"How long ago was this particular session."

"Six months ago."

"How long then, has your father been married to her?"

"Only a couple of months. And it's killing me. But the worst thing is, I think Dad knows about my feelings for her and about our carryings on."

"Huh?" I didn't quite get him. "You mean your fucking her before he married her?"

"No," he said. "I mean, the fucking of her after he married her."

Now, I knew that here was the real problem. But it could not be gone into today. Glancing at my watch, I saw that we had run slightly over. I reached over, thumbing the cut-off switch.

"Next week," he said. He stated it, not asked. "Yes."

"I'll then," he said grinning wryly. "I'll just have to hold out." Waving, he left, and tripped over another chair.

Interview Three

Boyd, unusually punctual for so young a man, didn't show up the next week. It was three weeks before I heard from him again. And, at that time, he was desperately in need of quick help.

He called me on the phone almost at the latest time before the office closed, and wanted to see me. Hearing the sobbing desperation in his voice, I asked him where he was.

"All right," I said calmly, "stay there and I'll be right over. Give me thirty minutes."

Grabbing my coat and keys, I hurried out the door.

"Martha, " I said to the secretary-receptionist, "an emergency, close up for me."

"Yes, sir," she said, nodding pleasantly. "Good night, sir," she added.

"Night," I called. I wonder if he had finally succumbed to the charms of his step-mother and had raped her. Or, I wondered, had they been unfortunate as to be discovered in the act and was his father even now hunting him with intent to do away with him, or some such thing.

"Well," I said aloud to myself as I started off for the coffee shop he had talked of, "I won't know until I get there. And I won't get there if I don't keep my mind on driving," as I swerved past a car that I almost hit.

He was waiting like he said he would at the entrance. Parking the car, I went to him. "Let's get a cup of coffee," I suggested.

He nodded and we went to the place across the street. After the waitress had served us, he spoke in a shaking voice.

"That's it. I fucked the shit out of her and...." He almost broke down at this point. I could see the tears standing in his eyes. "And ... I ... Dad found us."

"What happened. And start at the beginning."

"All right. I will." Taking a deep breath, he launched himself into his story.

I fucked her two days after my last interview. And she was at me again a couple of days later. I held off, and she didn't protest. But she was always nagging at me and trying to make me stiff and eager.

So, I gave in on a night last week. But last night was the most horrible night of my life. I didn't come back for all that time, because I was ashamed of having fucked her at all and wanted time to try and work it all out.

I thought I could do it alone. I guess I can't

Anyway, we were home alone and she was dressed to make any man's prick stand on its head and do handstands. She was deliberately teasing me-prick teasing, the bitch!

Dad was late coming home and he hadn't been heard from, so I really had to stay because we'd called all the places he might have been and one had replied he was on his way several hours ago.

It was raining awfully hard, so instead of trying to go out and find him, I stayed at home with her, in case the cops called or someone, or he had an accident, or something happened.

Anyway, I couldn't help but notice her. She was dressed, like I said, to shock and provoke. She did. I couldn't keep my eyes off her.

I watched her, my one true love, move slowly across the room. Her skirt was tight across her ass, revealing the outlines of her rounded ass cheeks. She didn't have a thing on under that because I could plainly see the darker line of her cleft as it widened going down her ass.

My prick began to swell as I stared at the clinging material. I was particularly fascinated by the 'V shaped mound of her pussy when she turned and came walking seductively back, swinging her hips.

"I can't wait any longer," she whispered, coming up to me, "And I don't care now, what happens to us. But it has to be now before I go mad!"

I said nothing. My throat had gone dry, even though I was swallowing more saliva than I thought I could get at once. I found myself unconsciously running my palms over the front of my pants, fondling my hard-on that promised to be huge.

"You do want me, don't you?" she asked, running her long fingers under her blouse. She caressed her taut nipples as she paraded herself and flaunted her body before my hungry eyes.

I rubbed harder, the bulge in my pants growing harder. I knew that my dear stepmother enjoyed watching me stiffen. She enjoyed seeing my prick stiff down my leg.

"It looks like it reached almost all the way down to your knee," she said smiling. Her fingers under her blouse cupped her tits, pushing them forward. The small round buttons of her blouse began popping open, and her boobs came out.

I gave in, my prick taking over. "You won't be disappointed, love," I promised. Suddenly all restraint gave way and I reached out, grabbing her. I pulled her down to me and buried my mouth into her neck.

She squirmed onto my lap, tossed her long blonde hair slyly back, and ran her fingers over my whole body, teasingly.

"I want it to be special," she whispered. "Fuck, I'm so screwy hot for you and so hungry for your cock to be inside my cunt, that I'm nearly crazy."

"So am I," I mumbled against her throat. Then I kissed her mouth, working my tongue into her oral cavity, shoving it deep. My hands began to grope under my father's wife's skirt, lifting it up and wrinkling it back toward her cunt. My fingers kept moving higher and higher.

She began working to unzip my fly. I felt the warm flesh of her thighs as she got the head of my cock out of my pants, by pulling it.

My hands explored, again, the higher ground until I found my fingertips grazing the lower end of her pussy hair. Leaning forward, I began to move her down, spreading her thighs far apart as I came between her white fleshed and blue veined legs.

Her flesh was hot and sweaty as I pressed my body against it. She used her long arms to keep my jeans moving down my legs, exposing my cock and the flopping balls behind it, as well as the dark hair of my muscular legs.

Already I was humping her a little even though I still jumped up and down outside her cunt.

I could feel her cunt with my hands, swelling and expanding with the insurgence of blood as she got hotter and hotter. And she got so impatient that she wrapped her arms around me and literally hauled me down onto her.

Catching me off guard, I fell onto her tits, thumping hard against her and our flesh smacked audibly as it met. She arched herself into me, catching me right and partially impaling herself onto my stick.

"Hey!" I yelled, but her mouth closed across mine, cutting off my protest. So, taking advantage of the gained time, I thrust hard and came all the way into her twat.

I grunted as I sounded bottom in her and then I backed out, slammed into her again. I suppose this time I was hurting her, but I really didn't care.

I still could only really consciously think of Dad. And I was wondering what the shrill and hellish fuck I was doing screwing my stepmother when he could be lying somewhere maybe dying. I hated myself, but I couldn't have stopped, if I had wanted to.

I drove myself savagely into her and back out, ramming her cunt fiercely until she screamed from the unaccustomed pain. Again, I ignored her.

She screamed and began struggling against me. Her hands came up and she was yelling, "Boyd! What the fuck are you doing? Boyd! You're hurting me ... Help! Boyd! Stop it!"

When I didn't answer her or stop, she came at me, all claws. Throwing my head far back, I avoided her long nails for the first go-round. But I was ready when she came back.

I grabbed her wrists and swept her resisting arms back over her head. She screamed again from the pain of her taut muscles being forced against her will to go back. She arched straight into me, her sharp hip muscles ramming into my groin.

But it only felt good!

Holding her back, I humped her until I felt the gism gathering inside of me. I worked even faster on her, forcing myself to come fast.

Suddenly, my prick shuddered. Driving into her and lying on her so she could not breathe, I shot into her cunt, splattering her all up inside.

"That's great, son. Want to do it again?"

I was so startled and shocked that, for an instant I lay still, before I rolled off the bed, carrying Stephenie with me. Hitting the carpeted floor with a bump, she continued to roll, and because I was inside her and stiff, still, I rolled with her almost to his rain-splattered feet.

I went deathly pale and wished I were dead as I slowly climbed to my feet. I was so rattled that I couldn't even remember my prick, which must have looked really stupid, dangling half-stiff from my groin and my pants down around my ankles.

Stephenie started crying silently.

"What's wrong?" he said, "You think I'm jealous or something. That maybe I'd hate you?" He laughed boyishly.

"Well...."

"Look," he said, getting serious, "I only slept with your mother-not Stephenie-so we could have a child. Rather so she could have a child. I loved you. You are my child, my son. But after that, while she raised you, I went back to my pretty boys."

He raised his eyebrows and cocked his head. "So, I'm just as happy to see the two of you getting together. It's natural."

I guess I was too stunned and just couldn't say a damned thing. Reaching down, I held out my hand to Stephenie. Taking it she rose.

"Ever had your ass fucked, son?"

"No."

"I dig three-way sex scenes. It's the only time I like a woman in the picture. Not that," he smiled at his wife, "that I'm adverse to them, you understand. I just most always prefer men."

He had been shedding his clothes as he talked, and before I could realize what had happened, his mouth was against mine and his tongue was in my mouth, probing it.

The most shocking thing was that I liked it and was giving him back his affection. My hand found its way down to his prick and it was getting stiff.

I began massaging it, like I had often wondered how men did this. Now, I was going to find out.

"Strip down, son," he said when the kiss ended. "You too, honey," he said to her. His hands were wandering over my body as I took the rest of my clothes off and I felt my ass being probed.

"I'll fuck you, and you fuck her, all right?"

What could I say? So, we went into a three-way act. His hands were skillful and I learned a lot that night.

We built each other up until my cock and his were rearing to go and she was screaming that she wanted to be ass fucked.

"Okay," I said to her, "Get your ass down, baby."

She did, getting down on all fours in front of me. Then, she spread her legs, letting me get to her anus

It was nice and pink, its puckered muscle being a slightly louder color than the rest of her ass flesh in her crack. Bending over, I ran my hand down her crack, probing her anus gently.

She wiggled her ass and I got down, coming close to her. Reaching around, I took one of her tits and held on to it, squeezing it. I took my prick with my other hand.

Behind me, I felt a gentle pressure against my anus. His finger, I though, and then realized that was his prick, poking at my ass hole. It felt hot and wet.

"Spit on your cock, son," Dad reminded me. Taking up my holding hand, I spat into the palm and rubbed the glans penis until the liquid was well over the whole open end.

Touching my cockhead to the entrance, I began pushing into her gently knowing she was tight and probably wouldn't stretch like her cunt hole had. My other hand went to her other tit, using them for handles, I began to steady my entry into her anus.

Rolling her ass, she increased her enjoyment of our fucking as I penetrated her all the way until my groin rubbed against her throbbing ass.

Then, I felt Dad against me, his head pressing into my virgin ass hole. It stung just a little and then it hurt a lot! I groaned and he began withdrawing, but I rolled my ass and he just went in slower.

Taking the pain was something I'd never thought about before. It was like trying to get a hard and long piece of shit back up my ass instead of out.

The muscles stretched only so far and they didn't like it. They protested volubly. I forbade myself to scream as the waves of pain rolled up my spine sending off smaller shocks to my belly and even to my nipples.

With my prick occupied, he fingered my tits and belly and even managed to get a couple of shots into my balls when he was lying back almost out of me.

I stayed inside her, solidly, until he came.

When his come burned up my passage, I did scream. He was sorry he'd hurt me. But I assured him that it was because I'd never had my ass fucked before.

"Maybe not," he said, "but there's always that first time."

"I'll bet," Stephenie said, "that you'll never rape a woman again! Even in passionate anger."

"No," I agreed, "not after tonight."

"But are we going to call it quits," Dad went on, lying back on the bed and massaging his half-hard cock. I stared down at it. It was like a rolling-pin, and I couldn't imagine how he had ever gotten it inside my ass. My hole still hurt, but there was no denying the pleasure of being fucked this once, especially from someone so well-equipped as my father.

"Not on your life," I said with a smile, stooping down and taking his cock in my mouth. I worked my body over sideways, thrusting my stiff rammer into Stephenie's face. She took the head between her lips, sucking greedily.

I kept working on Dad's cock until it was as hard as before, wondering if my own cock would ever grow to such an amazing size. No wonder Stephenie loved it, loved to feel him pounding away at her, slamming and tearing into her dripping excited pussy.

"Keep doing it, boy," he told me, licking his lips, reaching out to play with my balls. We were both hard as a pair of stiff rammers could be when he directed me to apply the tip of my cock to his coarse hairy ass furrow. I relished the idea of taking him this way, and got right down to work.

Dad was putting it to Stephenie as I inched in my rod. The inside of his ass was tight and very hot and the friction was incredibly pleasurable. I loved the way his balls were smacking as he fucked Stephenie. They were working up to a regular rhythm and I got right in step, pulling out, pushing out, slamming down hard in his ass so that he groaned and wriggled in heat.

"I'm coming," Stephenie shouted, her hips gyrating as my father pumped on like a man possessed.

I hung onto his back, feeling my come surging up my cockshaft, shooting out in a thick creamy wave that gushed and shook my very insides. Shit, it was just the greatest!

"Do it, do it, do it," he kept telling her, shaking with the throes of his own orgasm. I stayed inside all through it. Watching him come was like having a second climax and it made everything twice as exciting. Dad was a real stallion in heat and he sure knows how to handle a woman. When he got off Stephenie her cunt was dripping with so much come that I just couldn't believe it. I knelt in front of her and began to lick off his cream, savoring the salty taste, sticking up my tongue into her soaking pot and slurping like a madman.

"And it gets better," she promised, pressing my head down with both hands. We all lay together on the bed, Dad holding me close with one arm, Stephenie on his other side.

"Two cocks are better than one," she said with a laugh. "Double the pleasure, double the fun."

CONCLUSION

Boyd was not so upset when he had finished. He looked at me.

"Well," I said slowly, "you have three choices. Never go back, go back and refuse to fuck anyone again, or join them." I looked at him.

"But ... Aw, shit! I'll crapping join them."

Boyd did join. His guilt is not assuaged, although it is disappearing under the double tutelage of his psychologist myself, and his father, who went through this, apparently, during his son's babyhood.

The threesome are making it all right and Boyd will be all right so long as he follows in his father's footsteps, to a certain extent. That is, so long as he does what he wants and doesn't grow feelings of guilt about it.

THE END
Young Boys And Their Loving Stepmother ....(84k)    by D.R. Mason




~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~







.....4792 home .....4794








---

	"Double for Nothing!! Tricks for Free!!!"™ A MrDouble Production: mrdouble

Page Design Copyright � 1998-2016, Mr Double, ALL Rights Reserved    
Stories Copyright respective authors.