"It ain't what you do, it's the way that you do it." So goes a tired old homily frequently heard in the midwest. Tired and old as the saying is, its simple words carry the weight of wisdom. In this powerfully graphic, fast-moving novel, our heroine learns the validity of the little saying only after many adventures of the flesh. This heroine is one of the legions of sexually mature but mateless women who exist in every city from Bangor to San Diego, from New Orleans to Milwaukee. Every block in every city has its Maude Sloane, the woman who at the peak of her sexual prime finds herself cut off from the love and companionship and sex that she has known for all of her adult life, and who finds herself racked with the tortured need for satisfaction that she knows is her birthright. Some of these women slowly wither away to the ghost-like wraiths who are seen to frequent bridge clubs and night schools. Others wait and work patiently for a replacement for their lost mate, taking what meager pleasures that they can find during the lonely interim. Still others grasp out in their frustration for any sort of pleasure of the flesh that is at hand, be it legal or illegal, moral or immoral. Such a woman is Maude Sloane, our fictitious but highly probable heroine.
Quite understandably, she goes after the easy prey. In her position as proprietress of a small business, this prey is fortunately or unfortunately! quite accessible to her. The school boys she employs are of course the easiest prey. Innocent, starry-eyed, but altogether lusting and not yet able to either understand or control their lust, young boys are her first easy conquests. The men who enter her place of business, bent on adultery as well as hamburgers and coffee, provide the stimulation she does not want, and the boys who wash her dirty dishes are there to provide the satisfaction she then needs. It's called statutory rape, and it is as illegal as it is immoral-but altogether justifiable for a woman in Maude's frustrated condition. She is fully aware that she is a sinner, but just as fully unable to stop herself from sinning.
And as in all sinning, once that first transgression is made, others follow with ever greater ease. Voyeurism? Exhibitionism? Sexual perversions labeled as sins since Biblical times? Each of these leads to a further degradation of this woman looked upon as a pillar of strength and a paragon of virtue in her town. While the good citizens of Ash Creek admire her fortitude in the face of adversity, while they silently decry their own sins in comparison to the faultless life of the widow Sloane, she sinks deeper and deeper into the quagmire of unholy lusts in her search for satisfaction of the flesh.
Could she lie with a stranger in her need for fulfillment? Could she take on a pair of them? Or a band of renegade motorcyclists in her need to quench the fires of the flesh? What about an animal, a beast of the field? Or what about her own flesh and blood, that ever-present reminder of the man who left her alone in the world, what about her own son? Just how low can an ostensibly normal, apparently upstanding woman sink once that first transgression is made? And once she has sunk to the very bottom, once the lusts within her have been fanned to a point where there is no congress of the flesh too base to be considered, what can possibly be done for her salvation? This novel answers those questions. And it drives home the truth in those hackneyed words, "It ain't what you do, it's the way you do it."
You will find the Rated X books, along with their companions, the Surrey Collectors Series and the HIS 69 gay titles at your favorite adult bookstore or newsstand each and every month. Serious collectors of strictly adult reading will want them all, side by side on their private book shelves for definite re-reading and ready reference.
-THE PUBLISHERS
CHAPTER ONE
The white nylon waitress uniform was too tight on her. Its skirt was too short, and Maude knew very well that young Robert was looking at too much of her legs as she bent over to reach the package of coffee. She would have to reorganize the kitchen and place certain things up higher. It just wouldn't do to have her employee ogling her like that, getting himself all hot and bothered there in the close and steamy kitchen.
His little prick would be hard in his pants all the time. Each time she entered the kitchen, he would become aroused at the sight of her maturely curved body, and when she left for the front of the diner, he would keep his prick hard by rubbing it against the stainless steel sink where he worked. And then, just when he was tiring of that form of masturbation, she would have to return on another errand and get him aroused again. She knew how boys that age were, for she had one of her own, and furthermore, she could remember when she'd been dating her late husband when they were in their teens. Boys like that were always hot and hungry for a woman, but they didn't know how to go about getting one, and so they played with themselves. It was harmless, as a rule. They all did it, and they couldn't help themselves. But in Robert's case, it was very bad. Being constantly hot for her lovely body, he might become so distracted that he'd get himself caught in the dishwashing machine, and that would be disastrous just now, for in the aftermath of her husband's death, Maude had not made the insurance premium. It would be terrible if she lost Maude's Diner, her only source of income, just because of an adolescent boy who hadn't learned how to keep his little prick under control.
Besides that, she didn't like the feeling of his hot young eyes creeping up the backs of her exposed legs, lingering at the very sensitive backs of her knees, then traveling on to the tops of her hose and, if they could, going on up under the hem of her skirt to probe hungrily up into the juncture of her slightly heavy thighs and buttocks. True, she was protected there by the elasticized thickness of a panty-girdle, but a hot young gaze like Robert's could penetrate that. She could feel it penetrating, and she didn't like the feeling one little bit. This was a business she was trying to run, not a peep show.
She rose with the coffee and turned, smoothing the bunched folds of her skirt over her loins. She caught him just one instant after he had swiveled around to return to scraping off a luncheon plate. She knew very well he was hot and horny, and she sympathized with him, in a way. The poor boy, he was so young and handsome, and he looked so vulnerable in his tight white T-shirt and his sloppy jeans. Why did he have to go and get a crush on her this first day the diner was reopened?
Maude answered her question realistically-He didn't have a crush on her. He was just hot for her, the good-looking, big-busted widow of thirty-five, whom even sixteen year olds like Robert thought was dying to be fucked and sucked. It wasn't an emotional thing with him, it was just juvenile lust. Just as realistically, she had to admit to herself that she was a little horny, but of course she'd never admit that to anyone.
She couldn't help being horny. For eighteen years, she had had Walter to take care of her as a housewife and mother by day, and to give her all of his wonderful big cock by night. Oh, the wonderful nights-and sometimes days-of fucking they had had together. If, through the years, she forgot his face, she would never forget the sight of his cock, slipping into the wet and brown-furred crevice between her yawning legs, sliding between her passion-swollen lips. How could the world be so cruel as to deprive her of that wonderful cock that had made a woman of her, and give her in its place this half-grown man with big eyes but a miniature prick? It just wasn't right.
"Robert, I want you to move that coffee up on the shelf," she snapped.
He was grinning as he turned to face her, and his cheeks were flushed from something more than the heat in there. He had indeed been ogling her, and he continued to do so, gazing longingly at the bodice of her sweat-damp uniform, at the amply thrusting bosom that strained at the buttonholes there. He even tried to make his voice sexy as he said, "There's no room for it up there, Miz Sloane."
"Well, make room! I've got a customer out there," she said and stalked back to the eight-stool front room of the little establishment that her dear departed husband had christened Maude's Diner.
Her customer was Cass Horton, lean, darkly handsome, benignly smiling, approaching forty years of age. Of course he was not a cash customer, for she could not charge the man who had read funeral services over her Walter just the day before. She would gladly have prepared the bachelor minister a lavish meal, for he looked as if he needed it, but all he wanted was coffee. She had gotten the new package of it to make sure his coffee was freshly brewed. His smile was like that of a saint, before she had to turn her back on him to work the coffee machine.
"It's not gonna be easy on you, Maude," he said, "but you'll make it."
"I know I'll make it," she said, and she hoped the stools would soon all be filled, even if their occupants were burly, lusting truck drivers who primarily came in to look at her lush and lonely curves as they tried to get her to a motel with them, where they could fuck her half to death.
"All it takes is faith," he said, his rich voice resonating up and down her spine.
"I have faith," Maude replied. She had faith in her body. With exercises-some of them out of bed-she had managed to preserve a great deal of her youthful good looks. If her hips were a trifle heavy, her full, upstanding breasts more than made up for that. If she was ten pounds overweight for her five-foot four-inch height, it certainly didn't show in her twenty-four inch waist. Her hair was glossy, tinged with auburn, and as full of life and bounce when she walked as was her sweetly rounded bottom. Her face was naturally lovely, and a little make-up made it provocatively sexy. She could feel and even act every bit as alluring as she looked, and she had faith that she would succeed in her deceased husband's business, even though the new freeway had diverted much of the drop-in trade. By making believe she was indeed a horny widow, she would fill the place up with male customers. All it took was time, and faith in herself.
"Any time you need a little, uh, spiritual help," he said, "you know where you can come to get it."
Cum. She thought he had said cum instead of come, and she thought of the gallons of cum that
Walter, the only man in her life, had pumped into her eagerly receptive cunt with his big, constantly loaded cock. Hot, salty flavored cum, loaded with life-giving hormones, and how long would it be before she had to have some more of it, just to keep alive? How long until she was inviting her customers back into the little sleeping room Walter had added onto the diner? How long till she was leering back at the men and luring them into slipping their big, hard pricks into her hot, juicy cunt, and into her panting, hungry mouth? If she held out for a month or two, perhaps the aching itch in her loins would dwindle. Then again, she might attack the next customer who came in after the preacher left.
With the machine dripping its coffee, she turned to face him with a hypocritically innocent smile. "I haven't been much of a church-goer so far, but when things get hard, I'll cum to ... I'll come to you, Reverend Horton."
He sighed and smiled and shook his head sadly. "It's a terrible loss you've had, but you're young and, if you'll pardon me saying so, mighty good lookin'. Lots of men'll be after you, Maude, wantin' to take care of you. Till you find the right one, you just come to me when you feel the need."
The coffee dripping behind her, hot and liquid, made her feel a need right then. She needed to strip off that damned panty-girdle, squat down on the private toilet in the back, piss if she could, and then frig herself with her fingers until she had some sort of an orgasm. She had done it the night before in the private loneliness of her marital bed, while her fifteen-year-old son, Peter, slept. On the very day of her husband's funeral, she had shamelessly masturbated. She still wasn't ashamed of it, because it was better than giving herself to one of the men in the little town of Ash Creek, and in her highly emotional state, she would never have been able to sleep without the tranquilizing effect of an orgasm or two. Now the crotch of the panty-girdle clasped her bulging cunt as tightly as her hand had, but unfortunately it couldn't move as satisfying as had her hand.
"I'm not looking for a man just yet, Reverend Horton," she said.
He waggled his eyebrows in mock desire for her and said, "But they'll be lookin' for you. They just can't help it, the way you come on. And really, I want you to cum to me for help, whenever you need it."
There was that word again. It kept wickedly popping into her mind, when her husband wasn't even cold in his grave. But she would become used to celibacy, just as a priest became used to it, just as this modern-talking, old-fashioned preacher did. She smiled and got a cup and poured him his coffee. Her hand was shaking with the disgusting, impure lust in her, and her big nipples were hard in her tight brassiere, and her cunt itched intolerably. She was such a shameful woman that she had to leave the preacher's presence for a moment. She made an exucuse and went back into the kitchen.
Robert was grinning at her as he ate a donut with his left hand, his right being occupied in the pocket of his jeans. She knew he was right-handed, and that this was an unnatural position for him. Then again, it wasn't. His good right hand was being warmed by the little prick which she had stiffened just by permitting herself to be looked at. He had a hard-on, and right there before his eyes, he was squeezing and milking its youthfully rock-hard length while he serenely munched on one of her donuts. He wanted that prick of his in her seething, oozing pussy, and her pussy wanted to burst the tautly stretched crotch of her panty-girdle. But that would never happen. Never, never, never! He was too young, and she was too much in control of herself, as well as being in mourning.
"Empty out this creamer and refill it with fresh for the reverend," she said, handing over her excuse for having returned to the kitchen.
He took his right hand from his pocket to get it. That hand that had been wrapped around his innocent little erection reached out and took the pitcher, and Maude knew that his smirk came from her unfortunate choice of words calling the pitcher a creamer. Would the sturdy young blonde lad have creamed in his jeans if she hadn't made him let go of his prick? In cumming that way, how would his clean-cut features have altered in his tortured bliss? Would he have blurted out, 'I love you!' in his ecstasy? Would he have thrown himself at her and humped his erupting loins against the soft, full warmth of her thigh? Maude was shaken by the unspoken answers of these questions, and by the outlines of a pair of plumply boyish buttocks in faded blue denim as Robert bent to get the cream out of the refrigerator.
With very little effort, she could put herself in his place when he'd been looking at her ass. She could understand how close he had come to going up to her and snuggling his hot loins against her soft behind, digging his fingers into her hips,-wriggling like a joyful puppy-dog, while he creamed in his shorts.
Did he wear shorts? Was his prick really so little? Was he a virgin? He might be wearing a jock strap to contain an outlandishly big prick, and he might have fucked dozens of smart-assed young girls or pillow-assed matrons like herself. He might know all about eating pussy, and he might like it, too. You never could tell. The innocent ones could be the most deceiving, or so she thought.
"Nice fresh cream for horny Horton," he said, handing back the pitcher.
"Just what do you mean by that?" she indignantly asked, not at all sure she'd heard him right.
Her tone so startled him that he almost backed against the hot griddle, and Maude squealed in alarm before he caught himself. It shook her more than it should have, for she was terribly nervous on this first day as proprietor of the diner named after her. She quickly returned to the front before he could notice her discomfiture, and there Cass Horton was smiling languidly at her as he dipped his spoon in the hot cup.
"Would you like to cream a little? I mean, would you like a little cream?" she asked, serenely as she could, though her faux pas already had her blushing right down to the roots of her pubic hair.
"Just sugar. I like it sweet and hot," he said.
He was such a good man, and it was so unthinkable that Robert could call him horny Horton. He probably masturbated, but you couldn't blame him for that. And probably the years of masturbation had enlarged his penis to the size of the bull's making it all the more difficult to resist those disgusting women of his small congregation who wanted to bed down with a holy man such as the Reverend Horton. They wanted some sort of holy feeling of exaltation from having his big, hard, lonely cock sliding in and out of their greedy little cunts, and it surely took a lot of will power on the reverend's part to keep from settling his lean, hard body between their outspread legs and sliding his big, wonderful, virgin's cock into each and every one of them. Or the women wanted to suck him off, to accept his thick spurts of cum into their mouths with heavenly glee, down on their knees, naked as Eve and cumming themselves, in a way, while they held his convulsing balls in their hands and squeezed out more of his lovely stuff. There were lots of terrible women like that in the world, but very few really pure men like Cass Horton.
He interrupted her thoughts by saying, "I sure would like to be your bed-partner, Maude."
He wanted to fuck her! Incredible! He wanted to take her into the sleeping room, to peel her out of her clothes with loving hands, to lie her down and place tender kisses all over her lonely body, and then to slip eight inches of hard, pure cock into that part of her that ached the very most. He wanted her, when he could have any other woman in town! But, no, he was already fucking all the rest of the widows and divorcees and spinsters and teenyboppers, and maybe even the wives, and he just wanted to add another notch to his bedpost. Every man and boy in the world was after her cunt and nothing else, and he was no exception.
"What ... did you say?" she cautiously asked.
He sipped his coffee. Her hand, hidden from him by the red formica counter-top, crept to her loins. Its fingers pressed against the warm bulge under the two layers of cloth there, telling her pussy to calm down, that it did not have a mind of its own, and that it was going to have to wait until she was properly married again before it got anything but her fingers-and perhaps an occasional jab with a hairbrush handle. He set the coffee cup down and licked his lips. She wouldn't even let him go down on her. No man could until he married her. And no boy, including Robert. Cass Horton couldn't do it, not even if he got down on his knees and sniffed and kissed his way right up to her burning crotch, then chewed out the crotch band of her panty-girdle and swallowed it, all wet from the cunt juices he was so thirsty for. Horny Horton-Robert had it right, and she should do something to apologize to the dear boy. But she could not, in all good conscience, give him what he wanted in the way of an apology.
"I said I'd sure like to be your partner, Maude, in this here little operation. It takes two to make a go of something like this. I'd buy in with you, if you were so inclined, and if I didn't have my little congregation to look out for."
"Oh," she said. "Business partners." She felt deflated, somehow, and her shoulders dropped an inch and her breasts sagged in their brassiere, and at last her nipples became soft and stopped chafing at their lacy container. Odd to feel so deflated, when he'd proved he was the good man she'd thought he was all along. It was Robert and his dirty-minded innuendoes that had made her mis-hear the Reverend's words. She said, "Oh, I'll make it all right. I have Robert, my bus-boy and dishwasher, to help me, and I have faith that I'll build up the business enough to send Peter through college. I'll make it. I have faith."
"You got a lot more'n that, lady," he said. His roving eyes suggested he was a lecherous man after all, but his calling her a lady told her that again she was misjudging him.
He finished his coffee and got up to leave. She went to the door with him, each little step jogging her nipples back to painful life, and what he said now did not register on her at all. She was thinking ahead to bawling out Robert, good and proper, and with this in mind, she locked the door after the preacher and hung out the 'Closed-sorry' sign, and went toward the kitchen to either get an apology from him for his words about Cass Horton or to summarily fire him.
CHAPTER TWO
Maude returned to the kitchen to find Robert with his pants down, or at least partially down. He was by the sink, with his back to her. His jeans had been pulled down to the middle of his hips, and he was trying to look back over his shoulder at the broad line of pink that stretched across the top of one mound of his buttocks to the other. He quickly tried to pull up his pants at her exclamation:
"Poor baby! You did burn yourself! Oh, Robert, let me help you!"
Maude Sloane was not thinking about her lack of insurance coverage or the possibility of a lawsuit when she rushed toward her startled employee. He no longer was her employee, but instead he was a boy, much like her own, who had been injured, and the injury was all her fault.
"I'm so sorry. I'll make it all well," she kept saying, as she led him, arm about his shoulders, toward the little room in back, furnished with bed, chair, desk and mirror.
"It's okay! It hardly even hurts," he kept bravely replying, as he was bustled along, clutching at his partly opened fly.
When it came to a poor, hurt boy, Maude was on far more familiar ground than she was an eatery owner. She sat herself down on the bed, firmly faced Robert toward the door, and shushed him as she pulled his pants down a few inches to inspect his wound.
It was not a bad burn. The skin was not broken, but those delicately textured contours of his upper buttocks appeared cruelly violated by the band of pink from the edge of the hot griddle. Just as tenderly as she could, she ran her fingertips over the injury, and still it was enough to make him jump a bit. "It's all right. Mother will fix," she said, forgetting herself for an instant, and touching the pink burn with a part of her far softer than her fingertips. That part was her lips, pursed and moist and warm, the same lips which had helped to heal her own son's many little wounds during the years.
The warm, smooth feeling of him, and his little gasp of surprise, brought her to her senses. This was not her own boy with an injury she was healing; it was her employee, and she was kissing his ass!
"You stand right there while I get some salve," she said, all business again, and recalling she'd been angry with Robert just a minute ago.
Into the bathroom she went, and to the medicine cabinet. It was a tiny, strictly functional bathroom. All tile, with a pot and a sink, over which presided a shower head whose spray, when it was turned on, fell upon sink and toilet both before draining into the grate in the center of the floor. In the medicine cabinet were shaving implements, first-aid supplies, and, to Maude's surprise, a pint of hundred-proof whiskey. Disturbed as she was, she couldn't help but feel irritation at her dead husband having been nipping at this at work, and thus adding to the problems caused by his weak heart. But Maude's heart was in fine shape, thumping away quite loudly, so she uncapped the bottle and took a good, deep swill of its fiery contents to steel herself for the ordeal of healing her employee before she either reprimanded or fired him. She even recalled why she was angry with him-for mentally transferring his constant lusts for pussy onto poor Cass Horton's head. She took another tiny nip, got the salve, and returned to her unexpected duties as nurse in a roadside diner.
He was standing waiting for her, blinking his large blue eyes, trying to get her sympathy. She sat down where she had been sitting, with no nonsense about her, completely ignoring the way her pussy almost squelched in its closely confined wetness.
He had hiked up his pants again, and she jerked them down an inch lower than they had been before. Nearly half his buttocks were there, six inches before her face, as she worked at the top of the tube of cream. They swelled out at her and strained over the top of his beltless, ragged jeans. It was really quite artistically beautiful the way the crack of his ass came out to merge and blend with the smoothness of his upper buttocks, and how these were contoured into the small of his back. She had to see how his shallowly indented spine was centered in his waist, so she told him to lift up his T-shirt.
"I didn't get burned up there," he said, but he did as he was told, basically the good boy that he was.
He was beautiful as well as good, Maude decided, as she tried screwing the stubborn cap in the opposite direction. He had the body of a young Apollo, from what she could see of it. That area between his elevated T-shirt and his barely lowered trousers could inspire any artist, especially if that artist was a woman. She noted that he was wearing boxer shorts, quite frayed at the waistband, but pristine white. He stirred away from her and she had to pull him back.
"Jeez, don't blow on me like that. It tickles," he said.
She had been sighing in her artistic appreciation, and she hadn't realized it at all. "I'm sorry," she murmured, and tried to hold her breath as she patted him soothingly on his bare hip, so firm and smooth, but all tensed with its underlying nerves and muscles.
The top of the tube came off, and a big blob of creamy coldness squirted out into her hand. She sat there rubbing her hands together to warm it up, breathing shallowly, almost painfully, as she looked ahead and saw nothing else but that perfectly sculpted back. How could anyone think women were beautifully constructed when young boys like this existed in the world?
It was impossible to avoid tickling him with her breath as she said, "This won't hurt a bit, Robert dear."
As she smoothed on the salve, she knew she shouldn't have called him dear. But he was such a dear, and he felt so dear, that she couldn't be sorry about it for long. He was a perfect, beautiful, innocent boy, with his only flaw being the mark she had caused on his sweet little fanny. She could never atone for that, and she most certainly could never fire him now.
"Easy. Don't move, dear. I'm not going to hurt you," she said, now feeling those glorious contours she had only been able to look at up till then.
Glorious, he was. Brave, too, for not flinching more than a tiny bit as she so gently tried to erase every trace of pink from his flawless white skin. But was she getting all of it? Was it possible that he had burned himself twice, and that under the cover of his half-mast trousers was another, more painful wound, one that striped, right across the full plumpness of his ass? And it was full plumpness there. Muscular plumpness, like the buttocks of the football players she so often watched on television when her husband, the man with the great big cock, had had the consideration to stay alive. She gave one covered buttock a fond little exploratory squeeze and, sure enough, he gave a jump.
"Does that hurt you, dear?" she asked.
"No. It just ... surprised me. Hey, don't!" he said, when she did it again.
"The second time shouldn't've surprised you," she said, smiling in the knowledge she had of his further injury, and quite unable to keep from breathing against him by then. "And I wouldn't be surprised if you've got a second little burny-burn right there. Take down your pants and let's see."
He jumped when she touched him again, proving she was right, and he looked over his shoulder at her in vast surprise, proving his innocence. She smiled up at him, still smoothing the salve into his first burn, and said, "Take 'em down, dear, and let Mother see. Go on, or I'll have to do it for you, and you're too big a boy for that."
"I'm okay. Really," he insisted.
She sighed heavily, and began reaching slowly about his waist.
As expected, he exhorted her to wait! He'd do it! And her hands trailed down the sides of his legs, fingers moving, at the ready to help him down with his trousers.
They were lowered very tentatively, revealing a pair of plump young mounds that put Apollo's marble ass to shame. Each mound was a bursting globe of chaste whiteness, shallowly indented with the biggest, most inviting dimple Maude Sloane had ever seen. Their plumpness ended abruptly, in a pair of smiling cracks a scant half inch over his lowered pants. They were hairless, and their trembling could be felt in Maude's heart, in her gut, in her tits and in her cunt. But that same trembling had the effect of calming her lightly touching fingertips to complete serenity as they roved so tenderly over this young god's behind.
"See, I only got burned the once," he said, and tried to conceal the perfection before her.
She remembered then that she'd been looking for another burn, but she couldn't give up the search, for she'd found something far better than another band of pink. And secure and safe, she could think of no reason to give it up, just yet.
"I'm so sorry I hurt you," she said, feeling the trembling plumpness owith her hot, swollen lips, feeling the firmly padded bones of his hips with her hands. "I'll never hurt you again. Never ever."
"I'd better ... go back to work, Miz Sloane."
"Call me Maude," she said, her words softened with her lips in the warm, human-smelling crack of his fanny. "I locked up for a while." Her fingers kept moving, wondering on their own what they might find jutting out in front of him if they continued on their circuit around his smooth, warm hips. Would he be all smooth and hairless there, with just a fat little drooping finger trying to stick out? Would he have a great, upward-curving shaft, crested with a stout knob, sprouting from a mass of curly hair over a huge, full sack of balls? It was right there for her to find out, just inches from her hands, but should old, experienced hands like hers touch a sweet prick like his?
"Don't ... do that!" he said, squirming in her hands and against her ever more wildly kissing mouth, his buttocks twitching and jerking under this shower of motherly affection that Maude had to give to him, whether he liked it or not.
She dimly realized that the sounds in her ears were the crooning worship she was audibly making to a boy's perfect little ass, and that she was making a fool of herself, and that again, she couldn't help herself.
"I'll do anything I want and if you don't like it I'll fire you and your pretty ass," she said, panting hotly, but sure of herself and her wants now. "Turn around and let me see it. Turn around and let me see your prick before I grab it in both hands and rip it right off and take it home with me!"
He turned, panting as hard as she, almost whining with his great consternation, clutching at his pants with both hands, letting his T-shirt fall. And there it was, the perfect medium between a big, vulgar man's cock and the little dingus of a baby. Maude's glazed eyes measured four and a half inches of bone-hard, pink-pure boyhood. It was straight as an arrow, hard as oak, yet visibly pulsing with life. Her hot breath caressed it while she gazed at the deeper pinkness trying to poke out of a fully strained foreskin, and at the tiny mouth that seemed to be pursing itself for a kiss. All this in the flash of two instants, before she uttered a low growl and leaned her head forward to kiss that most kissable part of his entire body.
"Aargh! Don't do that! I'll ... I'll cum!" he exclaimed, his hands in her hair, trying to twist away.
"Mmmmm-hmmmmmm," she replied, nodding her head, letting her wetted lips open out, and sucking his dick into her.
Even through the softness of his foreskin, she could feel the ridge of his corona, and beyond that, the velvet-covered hardness of his shaft. Her tongue assisted her lips in exploring every little vein there that pulsed and pounded with his racing bloodstream. She tasted complete innocence, the utter purity of boyish perspiration, and she felt she might lift off the bed and go straight to heaven when she was able to snuggle the softness of his prick-head into the closeness of her throat.
"Oh, donnnn't," her boy-god murmured, as she drew her lips up the shaft again, holding firmly to his hips with both hands.
She held to his prick-head with the suction of her mouth as she probed within his foreskin for the purity to be found there. But in these velvety depths her tongue-tip encountered the male sex, quite young and relatively bland, but nevertheless so reminiscent of full-grown cock that her pussy opened out like a flower at dawn, pushing back at the elastic of her crotch band. When she sucked his hard cock all the way inside her mouth again, she wanted his entire body to enter her through her mouth, and then to fill her to bursting with his pure white cum.
"Jeez, don't!" he cried, all but weeping, and wrenched himself away from her, leaving her mouth all empty and panting, but he was unable to escape from the strength in her hands.
Passion turned to fury within her. Her nails dug into his tremulous flesh and she pulled him to her, not to suck his unappreciative prick again, but to flop him down across her knees and spank him. He deserved it! He had teased her and tormented her with his oglings and his leerings until she was on the verge of madness, and then he'd rejected her! He would pay for that, immediately.
She began spanking him-very hard! With her left hand in the center of his back, she used her right to whale into those deceitfully sweet young buttocks with all her might, and the sounds and the feelings she produced were hugely gratifying. He wailed and moaned, and he kicked and thrashed as he lay across her lap, pants down to his knees now, holey shorts drooping, bare loins squirming in torment on her nyloned thighs, for her skirt had risen high in her need to punish him. She was determined to turn his entire ass as crimson as that superficial burn he'd inflicted upon himself, and she was enjoying every breathless moment of giving him the spanking he so richly deserved.
Then suddenly his thrashings and his outcries changed. Instead of trying to cover his reddening ass with his hands, he was clutching hard at her thigh. Instead of squealing in pain, he was moaning in agonized bliss. Instead of trying to squirm off the cushions of her lap, he was trying to burrow his lovely, hard prick even deeper between her moist, tightly closed legs.
He was cumming!
The thought of that hit Maude with such force that she could almost feel his sexual sensations herself. Of course she stopped spanking him, and dug trembling fingertips into his quivering buttocks, kneading them deeply, driving him deeper between her legs. She could feel every small spasm of his ejaculation, and very few of these spasms could be termed as being small. Squirts of lava-hot cum spurted inches from her craving, pent-up cunt as he twisted and groaned in his enforced bliss. She was close to tears for having hurt the boy so, until she understood his gasping words:
"I love you, Maude! Oh, lemme fuck you! Pleeeze! I ... Aarrgggh! I love you and I gotta fuck you. . . ! "
"Yes, yes," she said, panting, knowing it was too late for it this time, but wanting him-and her-Ho have all they could of this bliss they shared with the sprouting of his young love for her old but beautiful self.
She almost broke her back in swooping down to shower more wet kisses on his hot hind-end. She reached her hand up between his feebly kicking legs to touch his orgasming balls, so firm, so nearly hairless, and yet so very manly! She clenched her legs more tightly around his spurting, creaming prick, and she slithered her tongue down the crack of his ass in a belated effort to overwhelm him with such good sensations that he would forget and forgive her for ever harming a hair on his glorious body. She tasted his ass-hole-something she'd never done before in her life-and its bitterness was sweet! She kissed her way up his shivering spine, holding his balls in her hand and his prick between her legs, trembling all over herself with a weird and wonderful sort of orgasm" that she had never known before. It was love, young love, pouring into her, that caused it. She would always be grateful to him for showing it to her, and she'd do all she could and use all her knowledge of boys his age to keep it forever alive, and to repay him for it in kind.
"Yes, you can fuck me," she said between her pantings. "You can fuck me and we can suck each other off like crazy! Now and forever! I love you, Robbie. I love you just as much as you love me!"
CHAPTER THREE
Someone was rattling the doorknob of Maude's Diner, a customer, most likely. He was badly needed, but not nearly so pressing as her need for the sighing, panting boy stretched out across Maude's lap. He loved her and he wanted to fuck her, and at the moment, that was all she needed in life.
"Lie down, honey," she said, urging him onto the bed, helping him with loving hands. "I'm sorry I hurt you. I only want to make you feel good. It looks so sweet," she said, and bent to take his cum-wet prick in her mouth, to feel his residual hardness, to taste his intoxicating young cum.
"Please don't do that!" he said, and immediately she gave it up, much as she hungered for it, for anything he wanted was his. Anything! Including herself.
"Well, if you don't like it, I just won't do it," she said, tugging hard at his pants, baring more of his strong young legs.
He covered his dear little prick and balls, like the innocent angel he was, while she jerked and pulled his pants down over his shoes, saying as she did, "just relax and I'll help you undress, darling. Whatever you want. Do you want to see me? Do you want me to take my clothes off? Do you want me n-naked?"
"Yeah," he said, nodding and grinning in his charming, most boyish way.
She ripped off his pants and shorts and threw them in a comer of the room, tore off his shoes and socks and cast them aside. She managed to open the bottom four buttons of her skirt before she had to embrace his bare legs, to hug them against her love-bursting bosom, and shudder through another weird orgasm communicated between them through his knees against her tits.
"Are you okay?" he asked.
Maude straightened up, shaking all over. She assured him that she was perfectly fine, and then she had to take off his T-shirt, tearing it in the process, in order to have him as naked as he should be. Again she fell on him, one breast nestled in the hollow of his groin, her lips sucking greedily on his tiny, erect nipple. Her hand groped down to find his prick, to find it hardening again already, but not hard enough. Delirious with love, she knew she was biting his nipple too hard and scalding his chest with the hot breath from her nostrils, but again she couldn't help herself. She was halfway down to his prick with her lips, pausing to stab, into his salty-sweet belly button with her tongue, before she was reminded by his hands plucking at her clothing that he wanted to have her naked, too.
"I'll do it," she said, batting her eyelashes, as nervous as she was desirous. "Little boys like you don't know about things like taking off women's clothes."
Maude got her skirt open up to the waist. She knew he wanted to look at her tits, but there was no time for that now with the great urgency that existed between her legs. Her legs were quite rubbery as she rose beside the bed to get rid of that awful, tight panty-girdle. She swept back her short skirt and got the damnably clinging undergarment halfway down over the big, fleshy bulge of her hips before she recalled that she'd better get rid of her stockings first. When she subsided on the bed again, facing his feet, his dear hand on the exposed swell of her ass sent hot shivers up her spine that all but drove her crazy when they reached her brain. She was fumbling with the second of the stubborn garter clips when he pulled out the bunched waistband of her panty-girdle and let it snap sharply back against her ass, and that did it.
The shock wave rippled right through her to her cunt, and another badly-needed orgasmic wave struck her. She fell forward on him, her face nestling against his genitals, blowing her hot breath against him while her pussy burst with good feelings.
"Don't do that!" he moaned, and she straightened up again, calm as a clam, as she recalled that he didn't like that sort of thing one bit.
Still, she had difficulty in speaking as she worked at the removal of her lower garments. "I'm sorry you don't like a little sucking." She rolled a stocking down over one knee, where it bunched and caught, and she had to tear it off from there. His hand went to that bare leg immediately, thrilling her to the core. "I'll stop doing it if you don't like it, but I was only trying to make you feel good." She ripped the second stocking before she even had the snaps undone, so there was no need for care in stripping it off to free her other leg for the increasingly bold touch of his hot little hands.
"Oh, it feels good when you kiss it," he said, one hand on her thigh, the other with its fingers poking down the exposed crack of her ass. "But it just don't seem right."
"Honey, if it feels good, it's right," she logically explained to him, and then demonstrated that logic by placing another quickly enveloping kiss down the cunning length of his prick. "Doesn't it feel good, though!"
"Sure, but ... " he said, and then became quite engrossed with the view, as Maude had to stand up in an awkward, shimmying crouch to work the panty-girdle down over the lightly perspiring swells off her hips. He licked his lips, then quickly bit his lower lip when the descent of the garment revealed her dark brown muff. His eyes blinked rapidly as he looked there, and he swallowed hard as Maude worked the tight thing down over her knees. He was obviously fascinated by her pussy, as well he might be, but at the same time he seemed a little afraid of it.
That would never do. And so, with all of her lower garments at last removed, Maude put one knee up on the bed, swept her open skirt back over her hip, and smiled down on him as she afforded him a good, close-up view of her mature pussy. To further allay any fears the young innocent might have, she fluffed out her very damp cunt-hair and parted the dewy pink lips with her fingers, not an easy task to perform when she had such need to jam something, almost anything, into the juicy hole that waited there.
"Don't you think it's sort of pretty, dear? Don't draw back so. Pussies don't bite, whatever you've heard to the contrary."
"I know that," he said, looking at it sidelong. "I know they don't taste good, either, and I heard a lot of chicks want to make you ... eat it before they'll let you screw 'em."
She subsided on the bed with him and took his dear face in her hands, hugely flattered that he'd called her a chick, and she hugged him to her heart before saying, "Darling, I'd never make you do anything you didn't want to do. Some men like to ... eat pussy, some don't. You don't, and that's fine. I like to suck your pretty prick, and if it feels good to you, don't stop me, and for heaven's sake, don't ever think you have to, well, return the favor to me. All right?"
"Yeah," he said, and there was a tremulous smile on his face as Maude backed off and pecked him on the lips, again wanting to devour him.
"But there's nothing wrong with fucking, is there? I mean, that's something we'd both enjoy, isn't it?"
"Yeah, I'll say," he said, glowing now.
"Then let's do it!" she exclaimed, tingling all over with love, bursting with happiness. "Hold still. Lie back. It's my treat this time. I'll ... Oh, God," she said, sending a hot finger to her smelly juices trickling down her leg.
He didn't notice. He was too hot to notice anything but her big, white-clad, shapely figure looming over him. Her hand seemed palsied as it grasped his prick, and his hands on her knees weakened her legs even more than his eager smile was doing. She lowered herself down on him, guiding that deliciously hard object in her hand until it touched the hot wetness between her legs, and there she forced herself to wait, to prolong this moment of pure, sweet joy before the real, deep ecstasy began. She would have prolonged it further still, but the memory of her wedding night flashed into her head, and with this came the thought of her son, Peter, serenely waiting for her at home while she was busy fucking a boy not much older than him. By lowering herself just one inch, however, she was able to erase those thoughts very effectively, and to replace them with the ecstasy of feeling her cunt accept the straining head of his prick. That one inch led to the other three and one half so quickly that she grunted in a most un-lady-like fashion as she dropped down to mash her clitoris against his hairy pube.
"URRRRGGHH! AAARRQGGH!" Her grunts continued as she helplessly squirmed on him, quite unable to give him any sort of decent lesson in the art of fucking, since she was at last really cumming, so hard that she couldn't lift her body off him to give her hips the proper pistoning action recommended in all marriage manuals. She could only squirm and pant and clutch at him, and cum very hard. She knew she was putting the fear of suffocation in him, but she couldn't help that. Her orgasm had hold of her, and her body was demanding that she wring all she could out of it while that lovely prick was inside her, even if she couldn't bounce up and down on it like a yo-yo. "Urrrgggh! Sorry. Ohhhh..." She moaned, flooding his loins with her juices, feeling her heart pound with his, until at last she gained enough control to be able to lift her head, sweep back her flowing hair, and press her lips on his.
A second wave of true orgasmic pleasure swept over her at once, and she sucked his tongue so deeply into her mouth that she hoped it might meet his prick coming up the other way, and set off an arc of electric love that would make them both explode on the spot. She squeezed his motionless prick with her cunt to make it last, and the waves of love were still breaking over her when she was able to lift her passion-swollen face from his to speak.
"That was a lovely start, dear. Now put your precious hands up under my skirt and place them on my fanny. Hold it and squeeze it while I make you cum with me. Ahhhh, that's right. Your hands, they feel so good."
"Boy, your pussy sure feels good."
"And it'll feel better all the time," she said, inspired to a fine up and down rhythm by his groping hands on her ass. "Fuck, fuck, fuck," she panted, really getting going now, knees planted firmly at his sides, really getting going now, knees planted firmly at his sides, tits rubbing nicely against his chest, eyes glazed, but fixed solidly on his increasingly joyful face. "I'll teach you how to fuck. We'll fuck all the time. All the time!" she promised, being transported by this wonderfully hard little prick to Nirvana, and almost being able to see the way its hard length pushed its way into the incredibly sensitive depths of her pink, pink cunt. "Cum whenever you want, but hurry. Cum with me! Do it now, Robbie! Cum! Please, pleeease cum!"
"Yeahhh!" he groaned, and his body arched like a bow, sending flaming arrows of white hot cum up into her anxiously waiting cunt.
He was as out of control as she had been, and she loved every moment of it. He bucked and thrashed, a prisoner under her weight, his prick a willing, spurting captive of her cunt, as together they blindly, wonderfully orgasmed until at last he went limp under her, and she sighed with a satisfaction that she'd thought she might never know again.
But she had indeed known that satisfaction, that joy again, and with a young, virile lover like her Robbie, there was no reason for her not to know it again and again and yet again-starting right now!
Maude laughed and rolled them over, bringing him along with her by circling his hips with her legs, until he was on top of her, still deep within her, in the old and ever-reliable missionary position. There she said, smiling up at his flushed face, "You'll like it this way too, when you're ready to go again. And that won't be long, and I can wait, as long as I have my arms about you. Still love me?"
"Well. . , sure, but ... but I don't know about going again for a while. I mean, I oughta get up and wash, shouldn't I. Well, shouldn't I?"
"Honey, your chick is clean."
"Yeah, but ... it's about quitting time, and I promised my Mom I'd cut the grass tonight after work."
Her legs slipped from around his body, and feelings of guilt were hard to hide as she said, "Oh, of course. A promise made to your mother comes first. You run along now and maybe tomorrow we'll ... uuhhhh..." The moan could not help but escape her as his relaxing prick was withdrawn from her cum-filled body. " ... maybe tomorrow we'll love each other up some more. Okay?"
"Sure," he said, up and off the bed in a trice, snatching at his clothes and trying to hide his beautiful, but now defiled nakedness from her as he darted into the bathroom.
The water ran for a long time in there. It reminded Maude of the sin that her seduction had been, of how she had dirtied the boy's purity with her middle-aged lusts, and only one day after her husband of eighteen years was in the grave. She knew she should rise and dress and pretty herself a little for Robert's return, but the wonderful, multiple orgasms had her so weak and somnolent that she was unable to stir beyond flipping her skirt over to partially conceal her loins and legs. Despite her hints of future fun, this would have to be the last time. Well, maybe she'd let him do it to her one more time on the morrow, but it would be after the diner was closed, and that would definitely be the last time for them as lovers.
With his hair combed and his body clad in his work clothes, he looked so innocent again on his return that Maude decided that this first time would be the last for them. True, he had a look of hunger in his eyes as he bade her good-bye, but it really would be best to leave him alone in the future-if she could keep her hands off him.
There were things to do in the diner, clean-up work and preparations for the morrow, but Maude couldn't stir just yet. It might be the last fuck she would have for a long time, and she had to nap and dream about it before she did anything else.
It was after dark when Maude woke up. Even as her eyes opened she was smiling and her hand was moving to cover her pussy, to hold in the good feelings that still dwelt there. She rubbed her fingers around over that fleshy, juicy spot on her body until she was fully awake-and aware of what she'd done-and then she quickly rose from the rumpled bed, and dressed as fast as she could. As she did, she cast many a glance at the single window in the room, horrified at the notion that some peeper might have seen her seducing her employee, kissing his ass and sucking his penis, undressing him and partially undressing herself, and then fucking him as if she was some sort of nymphomaniac.
Her hair was a mess, and she had to scrub her face before she could apply new make-up. Back in the confines of the panty-girdle, her vulva felt even wetter than before, and she wished she had taken the time to shower before dressing. But Peter would be waiting for her to fix dinner, and she had promised herself that she'd never let her new life as a businesswoman interfere with her role as mother. Some promise. Her first day as a businesswomen, and she'd let prospective customers wander off while she was fucking the help. Never again. That was a promise she'd keep, and furthermore, she'd keep the promise she'd made never to put Peter to work there, no matter how bad things got.
But things would be better tomorrow. Maude knew that as she hurriedly tidied up the diner, a task that Robert rightfully should have done. Maybe it would be best to fire him, and to start anew with some old man who would never tempt her and whom she could train to do the work her way from the start. She'd think about that tomorrow. Now was the time to get home and fix the meal of the day for her young man of the house.
Peter Sloane, good boy that he was, was busy doing his homework when Maude walked in. She came over and kissed him on the forehead, more than a little guilty about where her lips had been just a few hours before. He looked so much like his father that this made her feel guilty too, for it seemed as if she must have committed adultery with young Robert, even though old Walter was dead. She mixed herself a Scotch and water to calm her nerves and soothe her guilt as she fixed dinner, and halfway through the meal, she was humming, and the wet crotch of her panty-girdle felt more good than bad. Even though she'd had poor receipts at the diner that day, she decided to treat herself with a glass of wine with dinner.
Peter brushed back an unruly lock of his long hair and said between bites, "How'd it go today?"
"Oh, just fine," she brightly replied. "I didn't do as well as I expect to, because the diner's been closed for a few days and I suppose not everyone knows it's open again. It should get better every day now."
"It should do better than before. Pop was sort of a grouch."
"Why, Peter! What a thing to say about your father, with him not even cold in his grave!"
Peter shrugged and said, "Well, he was. And he'd never let me do anything. Gosh, the only time I could even have a glass of wine at dinner was when he stayed late at the diner. Can I have one now?"
"I suppose. Bring the bottle and I'll have another. I'm tired. I'm not used to being on my ba ... on my feet all day."
Walking away from the table, her son reminded her of Robert for an instant. It was just because he was wearing the same kind of blue jeans, and perhaps because his fanny had the same roundedness of her employee. She looked back to her plate, ashamed of herself for comparing the two in any way. Her hand was ready for her glass the moment Peter filled it, but then she had to look past it, straight at her son's fly, as she reached for it.
"Did you have a good day at school?" she asked, when he was seated.
"Yeah, I stopped at the Y and played pocket-pool on the way home."
"What!? " said Maude, spluttering wine.
"I played pool at the YMCA on the way home," he said. Then he grinned, almost leered, and he nodded and stared at her big bosom and said, "You spilled somethin', Mom."
She dabbed at the red stains on her jutting breasts, feeling her nipples grow hard from the embarrassment of her having misunderstood his innocent words. She must be getting neurotic to think everyone around her was talking about sex.
Maude allowed her son a second glass of wine and herself a third, and they had a good, fun time doing the dishes together. Walter had always said he was going to get an automatic dishwasher for the little two-bedroom house, and now Maude was glad that he hadn't, for this time of the day might provide the companionship she and her son would need until he was grown up and gone from the house. The thought of that gave her a sharp pang, and she dispelled it by making their mother-son banter even more gay and lively.
She was washing and he was drying, and after a particularly smart crack she made at him, he backed off and flipped her with the dish towel, making her jump and squeal. She turned with mock fire in her eye, rubbing the sore spot on her big bottom with one hand, holding a sopping sponge in the other. He pretended great fear, and she whipped the sponge in an arc, sending a spray of water that sprinkled across his face and down the front of his tank-top T-shirt.
That started a minor melee in the kitchen, with Peter flipping and scoring with the towel, and with his mother dousing him-and herself-with spongefuls of water. Laughter and squealing echoed through the little frame house until at last they mutually surrendered, falling into each other's arms to expend the last of their merriment together. Maude's laughter stopped abruptly when she felt the hard thing in his pants, moving with a soft but urgent rhythm against her thigh.
"That's enough now, Peter. We've got to finish with the dishes," she said, trying to push away.
He wouldn't let her go. He was strong, stronger than Robert, and more sturdy, despite his lesser years. He held her and pushed his erection harder against her leg, and said. "You got me all wet, and you are too. Why don't we go and change clothes before we finish the dishes? Why don't we put on our pajamas, huh?"
"No, Peter, no," she said, terribly shaken, and she had to get almost angry with him before he'd let her go. She told him she'd finish the dishes by herself, and that he could go look at television. Still he hung around, looking at her from behind, his gaze crawling up her legs and under her skirt just as Robert's had. It was unnerving, to say the least, and Maude longed for another glass of wine. Did all boys have the capacity to lust after their mothers? Or were she and her son two of a kind, oversexed, and drawn to each other now that Walter was gone? She would have to nip it in the bud, whatever it was.
She whirled about, snapping, "Go and look at tele..." but he was gone. It had all been her imagination. He could see her from the reclining chair in the living room, but he wasn't looking at her and her voluptuous figure, and Maude's shame grew.
She showered and went to bed early. Despite the sex she'd had that day, she couldn't sleep, and five minutes after she was in bed, her pussy was getting moist again, without even a hint of help from her hand. She tried to reasonably think about her situation, and her condition.
Perhaps she did have an incestuous desire for her son, but she could control it and it would pass. Perhaps her fleeting desire for him had been because he reminded her of Robbie, the boy who loved her, the innocent she had seduced. Well, Robbie wasn't innocent any more, so there was no real reason to keep her hands off him, except of course if he reported her to the authorities, and he would never do that. Robbie was horny and available and so was she, and in this modern day and age, that was all it took for two people to make it. Her alternative was being very good for a year or so, however long it took to find a decent husband, and then she'd be married to another grouchy duffer like Walter. And the thought of that made her wrinkle her pretty nose. But she might have her cake and eat it too-the cake being a decent husband after a decent period of mourning the eating it being young Robert. Just sucking him off would be better than going it alone, trying to satisfy her mature lusts with childish masturbation. Not that masturbation was so bad. As a matter-of-fact, it was feeling better and better as her hand moved more intimately within her cotton pajamas.
She threw back the covers and turned on the night light, the better to see herself doing it to herself. Why not? Women's bodies were lovely things, and hers was certainly no exception. A closed door separated her from her son if he was in the living room, and the bathroom separated her from him if he'd gone to his room to do more homework. She was safe, and she was enjoying herself, and she whistled soft and low as the enjoyment increased.
The toilet whistled then. Peter was in the bathroom, his penis still in his hand, flushing the toilet. The wall separated them, and for a moment she wished it was gone, and that he could see his beautiful mother making herself feel even more beautiful.
"Robbie," she whispered in the dimness. Then, "Peter," she murmured, stretching her bent legs farther apart, arching up and scooting down her pajama bottoms, exposing her open cunt to the wall, then quickly making herself cum with her moving fingers in her pulsing, sodden cunt.
Then she could sleep, dreaming dreams of tomorrow, dreaming dreams of whole legions of young boys with hard cocks to service her.
CHAPTER FOUR
As usual, Maude awakened her son with a kiss that next morning at five. Unusually, however, it took two or three warm kisses and his arms were about her neck before he was fully conscious and smiling at her. He was so nice and warm and cuddly from his night's sleep that she hardly wanted to leave him; she wanted to slip under the covers with him and enjoy the luxury of pretending it was a dozen years ago, and he was a little boy she could cradle against her lush body without a single feeling of guilt. She refused to let herself think about that, or about how he looked in the shower just then, as she poured out a bowl of cereal for him, fixed his lunch, and left the house. Driving the six-year-old Chewy to the diner, she instead thought about Robert.
That poor boy didn't have a mother to care for him. Orphaned, dropped out of school, he lived with his uncle and aunt. They probably didn't love him, but that was no reason for Maude to give herself to him as she had. She should and could be kind to him without fucking him, no matter how badly she needed it. She could keep her desires under control, and his too, for that matter. It was indeed only boyish lust, not love, that he yearned for. As beautiful and as lonely as he was, she would make it clear to him when he came to work at seven that morning, that nothing further could happen between them.
The schedule of the diner was for its proprietor to arrive at six, with the place all clean and neat and ready for any early morning trade, and by the time the dishwasher arrived, there would be work for him to do. Maude was prompt in her arrival. She parked the car around the side, to leave room for any customers she hoped for that day, and went back to enter through the front door. To her great horror, the door was unlocked. Thieves had entered in the night, no doubt, and robbed her blind. She was ruined, and all because she'd been so carried away by the sex she'd had with a mere boy that she'd forgotten to lock the door.
But perhaps her omission had gone unnoticed, perhaps the place had not been rifled. She hurriedly looked through the front door, saw nothing missing, and charged into the kitchen to see what might be gone from there.
And there was Robert, busily rearranging things on her shelves, and smiling winsomely over his shoulder at her. Relief flooded through her, and she rushed forward to meet him and embrace him as he got up from his knees.
"I was so worried when I found the door unlocked," she said, hugging and kissing him. "You came in early to help me. Oh, you're such a good boy."
"I came in for more than that," he said, and the touch of his hand on her crotch, clumsy as it was, sent hot stabs of sharp desire into her loins. "I came in to fuck you and love you some more. It happened so quick yesterday, I didn't even know which hole I was in. We got time, haven't we?"
"We'll make time, you beautiful, horny little brat," she said, and tittered girlishly as her hand found that his prick was hot and hard, ready and waiting for her in his jeans. "Don't move, darling. I'll lock the door and be right back."
She did more than just lock the door. All aglow, girlish in her head and quite womanly in her cunt, she got herself together long enough to take off her shoes, stockings, and panty-girdle. Her nylon uniform rustled nicely against her nubile hips as she minced back to him with her clothes in her hand. He had his thumbs hooked in the waistband of his pants, pulling them down just low enough so that the roseate head of his darling little prick was peeping out. It was like a beautiful flower, and Maude paused long enough to kiss it and dip her tongue in its tiny mouth before straightening up and linking her arm in his to lead him back to the back room.
"You stand there and I'll stand here," she said.
"And we'll strip for each other.
A yard apart, boy and woman grinned lustfully at each other, devouring each other with-their eyes, as they peeled out of their clothing. Off came his T-shirt, and Maude was hard-pressed to keep from moving in on him to taste the firmness of his nipples. She ripped open the buttons of her uniform and shrugged it back off her shoulders, and as she slinked her hands up her bare sides, his eyes came wider open and his grin twisted to one side. She reached back for her bra snaps while he flipped open his jeans, and his pants fell, leaving him clad only in his holey shorts, with his stiff-standing prick making a tent of the front of them. Shy but wholly fascinated, he fumbled with his shorts while Maude artfully removed her big white brassiere, lingeringly letting it fall down the creamy slopes of her big tits, letting a generous areola peep, then allowing it to drop away and expose the full, proud beauty of her luscious tits. They were big enough to sag a bit under their own weight, and she gently lifted them with her hands, smiling at him, but there was no need for the stimulus of her fingers to work on her nipples, for they were quite stiff and hard already. She extruded them slightly with the circles of her thumbs and forefingers, and he was so captivated by what he saw that he forgot all about the further removal of his shorts.
"Take 'em off, Robbie," she said. "And then let's fuck. We'll have time for a good one before the first customer of the day shows up."
She stood there, describing the beauty of her tits with one hand and gently massaging her cunt with the other, while he lowered his shorts. There was no need to arouse herself, for her cunt was wet and hot, and no need to arouse him, for his beautiful prick was as hard as it could be, but she wanted to savor this lovely moment, the first time he'd seen her her naked, gloriously so, and certainly not the last time.
"Easy, easy," she said, as they came together to sidle toward the bed, for he wanted to clutch and grab at her, and only the lightest of touches were necessary this time around.
They subsided together, trembling, breathing hard, and it was all she could do to keep her hands off his prick as she laid back on the bed in open invitation to him. Legs open, knees up and out, with her elbows at her sides, she reached out to him with her hands, her smile, and her words.
"We'll take up where we left off. The missionary position. Get between my legs, dear, and you slip it in this time. Take your time. We don't want it to end too soon." His eager smile, his fine young body lowering between her legs, were wonderful to behold, and the touch of his lovely flesh was even better.
"Easy, easy," she said, when his prick-head encountered her waiting cunt, for she knew that the need in him to plunge it all the way in her was even worse than the need in her to feel it. Her mature patience would see them through to a good, long-lasting, satisfying fuck. "Slide it in, dear. Doesn't hurt a bit. So good, so fucking good, so ... A A ARRGGGGH! FUCK ME, FUCK ME AS HARD AND AS FAST AS YOU CAN!" She screamed, as the moment his balls touched her ass, she began to cum, and cum hard.
With every bone in her body shuddering, Maude arched herself up under the startled boy with lightning-fast, piston-hard thrusts of her orgasming body. Now her fingers dug into his flesh deeply, and her face was twisted with the glee that only the soul in orgasmincally ecstatic torment can display.
"CUM! CUM WITH ME!" She shrieked, overturning them both in her great, frenzied need for him to feel what she was feeling, in her need to be filled to overflowing with his pure young cum.
Atop him, her big tits flopped and jounced crazily, and under him, they lolled and shook over his sides. He grabbed at them, hurting them in a wonderful way, while he kept up with her every mad thrust of her hips with frantic fast jabs of his own. He was groaning loudly, marvelously, emptying his little balls into her, making a woman out of her again, making her insides churn with the good, good feelings of being fucked, hard. The silence and stillness were almost audible when he abruptly collapsed on her.
"Did you like that? Was it good?" she asked. "Did you really cum good?"
"It was so fast," he said, panting.
"I know, I know, but you're so eager, and you carry me away so. Next time'll be better. I promise."
"Somebody's tryin' to get in," he said.
"Oh, shit. You stay here. Don't go 'way. I'll be right back. And for heaven's sake, don't get dressed!"
It was the Reverend Cass Horton. Maude served him coffee with her hair only slightly disheveled, but feeling almost nude with no panty-girdle on under her quickly donned uniform.
"Sure is a fine morning," he said. "And you sure do look nice and fresh, with your cheeks like apples, all rosy and bright."
"It's a lovely day," she agreed, feeling the flush in her cheeks brighten more, as she thought guiltily of the prick that awaited her in the back room.
Horton dawdled over his coffee, making small talk. Maude hovered nervously about, waiting to snatch his empty cup before another customer came in. He gossiped. She longed to slip a finger between two buttonholes and itch her cunt, for Robbie's fast fuck had only been an appetizer for a woman like her. At last he rose to go, and said, "Any time you feel like a little of that spiritual help, you come on by, Maude. You hear?"
"I certainly will. Thank you," she said, closing .the door. behind him, then waiting there with pounding heart until his car drove away, whereupon she locked the door again.
Maude hurried back to the back room, unbuttoning her uniform as she went. It was open all the way up the front by the time she got there. She found her Robbie sitting on the edge of the bed, pulling his shorts on over his feet.
She sat down beside him, slipped an arm about his waist, and ran her head down over his chest to his adorable prick. Her hand was all atremble and his prick was quickly stiffening. She said, "I thought I told my darling boy not to get dressed."
"I figured there'd be some dirty dishes for me to do," he said, letting go of his shorts, in favor of laying hands on her legs.
"There's much more important things for you to do in here," Maude said with a grin, and fucked up her bra cups, letting her big tits fall out to widen his eyes and occupy his hands.
"Remember, I'm the boss," she said, lovingly fondling his prick and balls. "It's up to me to decide what cums first around here. Know what cums first, sweetie?"
"Huh-uh," he said, again captivated by her supremely sexy beauty, and by her softly moving hand.
"We both do. We both cum together. Want to learn a new position?"
He was more than agreeable. In a way, Maude felt wonderfully wicked as she got up on her hands and knees on the bed. She also felt she was adding greatly to the boy's education as she got him up on his knees behind her, and reached back between her legs to grasp his tidily dangling balls in order to guide him forward.
He knew where to go by then. His dishwater-roughened hands were on the soft mounds of her ass as he came forward on his knees between her calves, and he elicited a deep sigh of satisfaction from her when he wriggled his sweet little prick into her inverted cunt. She was so wet with her juices and with his first spendings that he slid very easily into her, and she knew this lovely fuck would last a long time.
The boy was strong, and he had stamina. He fucked Maude from behind quite vigorously, bringing her to one lovely orgasm after another in the span of just a few minutes, driving her forward and weakening her until her smiling face was mashed against the old bedspread and she was down on her elbows.
"Cum," she panted. "Cum with me, darling, darling boy!"
"I can't." he replied, panting as hard as she. "You're too loose and slop ... too loose and wet now."
She tightened the muscles of her cunt, but this brought on another tingling orgasm which robbed her of her control there. His fuck strokes were becoming more ragged as he tired. But valiantly, he drove on, slipping out now and then, with his prick skidding wonderfully up under her against her clitoris, or sliding up over her upturned ass-hole. At last he stopped, panting hard, with the length of his cock laid in the groove of her ass, the middle of its shaft pressing against her anus.
"I want to cum so dang bad, but I just can't do it," he said.
"I know I'm too wet," she said, close to tears in her frustration, and close to cumming again. "But I hate to get up and dry off now."
"I bet it'd be really tight in there," he said, and the ball of his thumb crept under his resting prick to gingerly touch around her ass-hole.
Maude had never permitted such a thing before. The reason was that old, staid, unimaginative Walter had never requested it of her. And she had been as unimaginative as her late husband, but now she was free of him, liberated, and in love with a marvelous young man who was so good and pure and innocent that anything she did with him was right.
"I bet you'd like to fuck me in the rear," she said, waggling provocatively against him.
"Gee, I don't know if that's right," said he, as the small movements of this thumb and his prick made the idea ever more attractive to Maude.
"Don't think about it, just shove it in," she said, reaching back to help him, as best she could, quite excited with the idea of it now. "Do it in my fanny, dear."
"You mean, corn-hole you?" he asked, as now she could feel the head of his prick stealthily exploring her nether hole.
Puffing hard, she said, "Yes, fuck me in the ass! Bugger me! Jam your beautiful little prick in my ass-hole and ... YOWWWW!"
Ever obedient, he jammed it right in, and it hurt like hell. The pain took the rest of Maude's breath away, and she could only squirm about and waggle her hips in protest against the sharp stabs of his prick in her anus. His cock felt much bigger now, and she could barely see his balls flopping about between her legs. But she could see them contract, and she could feel his hands digging still deeper into her buttocks, and she could hear his groans, and all this combined to let her know he was cumming, and to quickly and deliciously change the pain into a pure sort of pleasure, the-likes of which she had never before known. He was making her cum, dragging her along with him in his bliss, and she would be forever grateful to this uneducated boy for showing her this new dimension of love and sex.
"CUMMM! FUCK MEEEE! FUCK ME IN THE ASS!" she cried, and the whimpering, panting boy charged into her with his prick again and again, driving her forward until she was flat on her belly, and his loins were resting comfortably on the big cushions of her buttocks. '
Again it was Robbie's sharp ears that ended the sweet and restful aftermath of their love-making. "Sounds like somebody's at the damned door again."
"Don't curse, dear. Get up so I can let them in."
"I'm so darned tired I can hardly move," he said, but he managed to roll off her, emptying her body of his.
"You lie still and rest. I'll get it," said Maude, and found that she did indeed have the strength to rise and dress and allow the pair of truckers to enter her establishment.
They wanted a full breakfast, and Maude efficiently prepared it, peeping into the back room from time to time, smiling at her naked lover there, and telling him to rest a little longer. By the time the truckers left, the tired Robbie was taking a little nap, so Maude cleared away the breakfast dishes and put them in the dishwashing machine. Then she crept into the back room and quietly laid down beside the boy, even more pure and innocent in his sleep.
He had gotten up to wash. She could tell that by placing her face close to his swollen but limp prick and breathing in the scent of soap. Close as she was, the temptation to continue was strong, and she toyed with this temptation in her as she blew her warm breath all about his naked loins, making him stir in his sleep, slowly bringing life to his lovely prick. She used her tongue, not her hands, to pick up his prick-head and get it against her lips, and then she closed her eyes in bliss as she sucked it into her mouth. This stiffened it even more, and Maude was even more thrilled when she felt his hands on her head, silently telling her that her suckings had awakened him and that she was doing the right thing. She slid her sucking lips, warm and wet, up and down the length of his prick. She enjoyed each of his happy moans and sighs as she lovingly laved his prick with her tongue. She was hungry, famished for his cum, when the front door of the diner was heard to open and close.
"Shit, we got another customer," he said. "Better go wait on him."
"Hmm-mmmm," she said, shaking her head slowly, tickling his loins with her silken hair.
"I'm not goin' any place," he reminded her. "You better tend to business first."
"You're right," she said, rising with a sigh, and hurrying off to her chores.
It was a trio of local businessmen who wanted to eat breakfast and to extend Maude then-sympathies over the loss of her husband. With lips still warm from Robbie's prick, she thanked them. Waiting for the waffle iron to heat, she had the opportunity to slip into the back room and insure the continuing hardness of Robbie's prick with some quick but loving kisses. She quickly assembled three breakfasts, slid the plates in front of the men at the counter, and hurried back to the boy in the sleeping room.
He had his prick in his moving hand, keeping it hard for her. Quite beside herself with desire for any part of him, she pushed his hand aside and claimed it with her lips. "Be careful or I'm gonna shoot!" he soon protested.
"Mmmmm-hmmmm," she said, now determined not to give it up, no matter how he felt about that sort of thing.
"I think I hear 'em calling for you," he anxiously said. "You better go. You better quit! NNNNG! Oh, Mauuuude!"
It came squirting, spurting into her mouth, his pure sweet cum against her lapping tongue and up into the back of her throat. His legs feebly kicking, his fingers twining in her hair, they added to the delight she knew in performing this supplicant act of adoration for her young lover. Spent as he had been, her warm mouth had completely recharged him, and the amounts of his jetting sperm were copious, and hugely gratifying to her. But duty called, and she had to give up his prick while it was still hard, and wait on her damned customers.
They wanted to pay their bill. Maude was still so glowing with love that it was hard for her to make change. They laughed in a good-natured way at her fumbling confusion, and one of them said, "This place sure keeps you busy. What were you doing in the kitchen, making some home-made mayonnaise?"
Maude laughed with them, a little confused. Not until she was back in the bathroom did she understand the meaning of his remark. There was a drop of white at the corner of her mouth which did indeed look like mayonnaise, though she knew very well it was some of Robbie's overflowed cum. She blushed as she wiped it off with her fingertip. She stared at that fingertip for a moment, feeling shamelessly weak and desirous, then touched it to her tongue to savor the taste of her young lover, and to feel the warm juices flowing in her cunt once again.
She quickly washed her pussy and ass-hole. More than anything else, she wanted him to fuck her again, to put his prick anywhere in her body and make her feel loved, as she should be. But now there were more customers arriving for the breakfast rush. Hoping it would be a minor rush that morning, she told Robbie to lie right where he was, and she went to handle the morning's business herself. It was only right. His lovely prick had charged her with energy, but in doing this he had exhausted himself. So she would work while he rested.
Maude hurried back and forth between the eating area and the kitchen, making breakfasts, keeping the coffee replenished, stacking up the dishes, and getting a few of them into the washer. The truckers who came in were continually making sly references to 'eating it,' and she didn't like that at all, but still she kept smiling. The businessmen were more polite in their remarks, but the looks in their eyes were anything but chaste. The angelic schoolboys who came in for donuts had that same look, but those innocents couldn't help themselves. She was so busy that she hardly had time to glance in at her napping lover, but then at about nine o'clock, when she was getting tired and the breakfast trade was slowing down, she was pleasantly surprised to find Robbie at his duties at the sink.
He was just wearing his jeans. His smooth, lightly tanned back was a beautiful thing to behold, and Maude couldn't help but tiptoe up behind him, crouch down, and tickle the point of her tongue up the shallow indentation of his spine. He shivered with delight, and turned to grin at her.
"All rested?" she asked.
"I'm feeling great!"
"I'll make you feel better, pretty quick." She delivered a stack of hot cakes and crept back into her position behind him. Her ungirdled hips had brought so many stares and remarks from her customers that she had been most embarrassed, but now it felt grand to be so free and loose under her skirt. She made him jump slightly when she placed her hands gently on his waist. She shushed him with her lips at his ear, then slid her hands around and down, inside the waistband of his pants. They fit very nicely in the arm hollows of his loins, and one of them cupped his dear balls while the other quickly and gently milked his prick to life, until it was standing stiff, with its hot head peeping just above the drooping waistband of his pants.
She easily turned him about and kissed it. She straightened up with a rosy glow flowing through her, and she said, "Let's just see if I can keep that pretty prick of yours hard while I finish taking care of this morning's customers. Then I'll take care of my favorite employee again. Okay?"
"Okay!" he said, hugging her close, making her bosom want to burst against his bare chest, and thrusting the hardness of his prick against her thigh.
Maude's energies were again recharged, and she served her customers and her employee very well that day. And she decided that the fringe benefits of being in the diner business might very well be more rewarding than the business itself.
CHAPTER FIVE
During the next few weeks, the diner paid the Sloane family bills, and kept Maude pleasantly tired and serenely happy. She worked hard there, and she enjoyed every moment spent in the place. By rearranging things further and by working at utmost efficiency, she was able to serve all her customers, take care of the cooking and ordering of supplies, and perform Robbie's duties while he was resting in the back room. He rested quite a lot, for it took a lot of his sperm to keep his employer's energies up, and this of course drained him of much of his youthful energy. He spent perhaps half his time injecting her with his energy and then sleeping, and the other half working. And while he was working, he continually tempted her to drain him of even more of his energy, for now he almost invariably worked in the nude.
It was more sensible that way. It was pointless for him to be getting in and out of his clothes half a dozen times a day, and it was a pure delight to Maude each time she entered the kitchen to see the boy who loved her standing nude at the sink, grinning at her over his shoulder and waiting for any touch or kiss that she might bestow upon his dear body. She played with him and touched him as much as she could, without neglecting her trade, but still there were some customers who were turned away hungry from the "Closed-Sorry" sign, for at these times her caresses had invigorated Robbie to the point where his prick was hard, and therefore ready to be softened by Maude's soft cunt.
It was an ideal arrangement for both of them. With the exception of cunnilingus, which of course she would never force him into, the boy was learning the ways of sex and not having to resort to the harmful practice of masturbation. Maude in turn was getting all the sex she had ever dreamed of, almost, and harboring secret and vain thoughts of a lasting love between them. At times she knew she was being foolish, that she was much too old for him and that she'd be run out of town if it became known that they were lovers. At other times, she felt that fourteen years was not an impossible age disparity, and that they could be married when he reached the age of consent. At all times, she thought about her young lover, and she almost perpetually wore a serene smile on her face that made her features even more lovely. The townspeople of Ash Creek noticed it and returned her smiles, making her feel even better. Peter was aware of her good mood, and he so wanted to share it with her that he became almost a nuisance around the house. She loved her son, but she didn't want him underfoot all the time. So one Friday night after they had done the dishes together, Maude told him she was going for a walk.
He hugged her there in the kitchen of the house and asked if he could go with her. She declined, saying that she had some things to think about and that he had his homework to do, and she left the house, a little guilty about her need to escape from her son.
She didn't feel like walking. Robbie had only fucked her three times that day, but he'd fucked her at least twenty times during the week, and she was a bit tired from that. She headed for the diner in the Chevy, intending to lie down in the back room and get a little sleep while she dreamed of the wonderful times she'd had with her wonderful young lover on that bed. Approaching the place, she saw that the light was on in the back room. Her first thought was that burglars were inside, and she considered driving on to the Police Station. But a woman like herself, guilty of statutory rape every working day, naturally shies away from the authorities unless absolutely necessary, and she instead coasted the car to a stop, got out, and cautiously approached the rear window that looked into the little room her husband had fixed up for his rest, but that she was putting to much better use.
The muffled laughter she heard as she approached calmed her somewhat, but her senses came alert and alive with an electric sort of shock when she peeped into the window.
There was Robbie, her pure young lover, standing naked by the side of the bed. His prick was up hard, his fists at his sides were opening and closing, and there was a pleadingly desirous look on his face that Maude had not seen for some time.
The object of his desire was lying on the bed. Maude had seen her around town several times since her family had moved to Ash Creek, but they had never exchanged words. She was a skinny little slip of a black girl, and she was wearing the typically immodest attire that Maude so deplored and that the more brazen teenyboppers seemed to think was fashionable.
The girl had on a pink knit cotton top that looked even pinker against her dark brown skin. It was made like a man's undershirt on top, with thin straps going over her thin shoulders and with large armholes for her slender arms. But it ended in the middle of her chest, its knit waistband a good six inches over her very long, narrow waist, tucked up under an almost rudimentary pair of titties whose only claim to maturity came from the fact that her nipples were clearly erect under the thin pink cotton top. There must have been at least a foot of dark skin showing between the top and her pants, for she was wearing those super-low hip-huggers which were another source of irritation to Maude.
Their belted waistband was closer to her crotch than it was to the little black dimple of her navel, so close in fact that Maude could see a few crinkly black pubic hairs peeping out from it. The low, low pants were made of red velvet, and they hugged her very slim thighs tightly before flaring wide at her knees. She was barefoot, and she was scissoring her velvet-clad legs slowly and languorously, sensuously caressing her naked torso in a disgusting manner, and all but sneering at Maude's naked lover as he stood there before her. Her hair was in a frizzy Afro that made her head a black balloon, with a pair of burning black eyes in it, a flat nose, and very wide lips, between which were displayed big white glistening teeth. The sneer on those lips was also in her voice as Maude heard her speak:
"Just what do you 'spect to do with a little old thang like that, white boy?"
"I'm gonna fuck you!" Robbie eagerly said, and Maude covered her face with her hands, so terribly disappointed in him that she wanted to die.
How could he have gotten himself into such a position? The girl must be blackmailing him, or her family had somehow coerced him into this situation, for he would never be unfaithful to Maude, especially not with a girl like that. Maude had to look again when the black girl spoke again.
"Well, bring it on over here and let me see it up close. Lord, it's so small I can't hardly see it over there."
The girl snorted derisive little laughs as she tickled the underside of Robbie's darling stiff prick with her black hand and scornfully flipped its rosy head with her finger. Robbie's nude body jumped and jerked with these cruelly casual administrations, but he stayed right there at her side, fists tightly clenched now.
"Sheeyit!" said the girl. "You can't even hope to do me no good with a little pecker like that."
"Velma, I can!" he said, his voice pathetic in its pleading tone, as he tried his best to satisfy the demands she had somehow forced upon him. "I know all about fucking. I know every position there is, and I just gotta fuck you. I just gotta!" he said, proving beyond a doubt he was being victimized. Maude wanted to go in and break it up, but she feared he might be in some real trouble, caused by the black girl, no doubt, but something for which Robbie would have to eventually pay if she interrupted them. So she watched, difficult as that was, forgiving him in advance for whatever it was he had done, and for whatever he might have to do now.
"You don't know nothin' about nothin', " she declared, with a final flip of her finger that made him whimper, but not move away. You tell me you got a job in a restaurant, and it ain't nothin' but a shitty little diner. You tell me you know how to fuck, and you ain't even got the equipment to do it with. Your tongue's prob'ly longer than that little pink pecker you got. Let's see it. Stick it on out."
"M-my tongue," he said, and swallowed hard.
The tip of it protruded from between his lovely lips. His chin trembled as his jaws came apart, and then his tongue came out, farther and farther, until the tendons on his neck were showing as he strained hard to show her all of it. It was terrible, humiliating for him to have to stand there naked and do her evil bidding, but he obviously had to do it for some reason. The black girl smiled crookedly at him and reached up to touch his penis again. She silently made him stand there with his tongue sticking out while she stroked his prick with a thumb and two fingers.
She said, "You ain't got much of a tongue either, white boy. But show me how you can wiggle it, and maybe you can do me some good after all."
Robbie wriggled his tongue vigorously, side to side and up and down, while the reclining black girl handled his pecker as if it were a sausage. Then she flipped his prick again with her finger and said, "I'll give you a try-out with your tongue in my belly-button. Well, come on, 'fore I change my mind!"
He immediately dropped to a crouch beside her on the bed and dug his moving tongue into the little indentation of her navel. The black girl pursed her lips and rolled her eyes, but he couldn't see that, busy as he was. Her hands were in his hair, holding him where he was. His trembling hands were on her sinuously moving body, until she snapped, "What're you doin'? I didn't say you could touch me with nothin' but your damned tongue!"
He snatched them away and clasped them behind his back. She grinned and tightened her hold in his hair and rolled his head about, though his tongue remained centered in her navel. "You're not doin' too awful bad with that. It tickles pretty good," she said, and her hands moved up to fondle her diminutive tits.
She pulled up the brief knit top, exposing breasts that were far from needing the support of a brassiere. They were nothing more than soft little mounds on her chest, looking quite firm, capped with nipples that were black as coal and very erect. She pulled and tweaked at her nipples with the fingers of both hands, and Robbie, still delving in her navel with his tongue, turned to look up at her actions.
"I'll bet you'd like to suck on these, but you cain't," she said. "Least not till I say so, and that might be never. Might be soon, though, 'cause you're startin' in to do me a little good. I'm startin' to feel it, y'know?"
He was crouching on her right. Her right hand continued to toy with her titties, and her left snaked down over her brown torso toward her crotch. He followed its progress with his eyes, turning his head until he was watching her black hand cup the smoothly bulging red velvet at her crotch.
"Yeah, old pussy startin' in to itch a little. And where I itches, I scratches," she said.
The belt securing her pants about her hips was a broad black leather one. As she opened its buckle, it could be seen that Robbie was breathing faster, and that he was wringing his hands behind his back. He rolled his head the other way to look at her exposed titties, then back again to watch as she began flipping open the buttons of her pants. There were only four of them, but it took a while, for she paused to run her fingertips over her black belly as she exposed more of it. When the last button was opened, she slid her hand inside, increasing the bulge at her crotch, and sighed in disgusting self-indulgence.
He lifted his head and, panting hard, said, "Let's fuck. C'mon, goddamn it, let's do it!" He ripped at her pants, and she loudly squealed and tried to keep them up. Quite suddenly he'd gone mad, it seemed, and the black girl looked panic-stricken as he wrestled her about on the bed, snorting and puffing, clawing at her pants, while she beat at his head with her small brown fists.
"You gotta come across! I've gotta fuck you!" he cried, rolling all about, over and under her. He had succeeded in getting her pants down over her hips. One moment her perfectly round, deeply cleaved brown ass was showing on top, and the next moment his muscular white buttocks were at the peak of their tangling bodies. She squealed and continued to beat at him, and he went on snorting out his lascivious demands on her. The tidy black triangle of her pubic hair flashed into view several times as he frenziedly tried to find it with his stiff prick, while his pretty pink balls followed, flopping close behind.
"Get away from me, you mother-fucker!" she shrieked, and on the other side of the window, the panic-stricken Maude covered her ears, not knowing what else to do!
She didn't know if the young couple was locked in mortal combat, or if they'd just been carried away with their emotions. She didn't know whether to scream for the police, or if Robbie could somehow handle this terrible predicament he was in by himself. She continued to watch, wide-eyed, unable to even go around and let herself in to help him.
Then he threw back his head and gargled out a scream, for the little brown hand had closed around his balls. He howled in agony, and Maude cowered against the window, fearfully afraid now that the police would come and arrest them all. And then her fears turned to a morbid sort of fascination as the struggles inside the room ceased.
Robbie was on his hands an knees, facing the foot of the bed, with his head thrown back like a dog silently baying at the moon. Velma lay on her back, still panting hard from her exertions, a fine film of perspiration making her bare skin glisten. His legs were apart and her hand was up between them from behind, securely holding his balls. Her pants were down low enough to expose all of her triangle of pubic hair and the slitted and hairy bulge that disappeared down between her legs, but Robbie's distress was such that he paid no attention to this now. She lay there looking very angry, holding him a prisoner with one hand, until she caught her breath.
"Okay, you shit-ass mother-fucker, now you're gonna eat my pussy and eat it good! Shuck them pants offa me and get at it, 'fore I squeeze your puny white balls right off!"
"Please don't. Please, Velma!" he moaned, as he pawed at her red velvet pants.
They were all bunched up and tight around her thighs, and his anguish was such that he was uncoordinated. But driven as he was, he continued to work at what he had been so eager to do before, until at last she ws able to kick one foot free of an empty pantleg. She still had a good hold on his balls, and now she used the other hand in his hair, centering his head over the widely spread Y of her crotch. Her hair was crinkly and tight, and through it could be seen a fine line of pink, that marked the slit of her vulva.
"You start in kissin', suckin' and lickin', white boy!" she told him. "And if you don't do it good-I mean, really good-I'm gonna snatch these balls right off! Beee-gin!"
Maude's heart went out to the near-innocent boy as he buried his face in the black girl's crotch. It made her own crotch feel all sweaty and smelly and oddly tingling to see him thus, with his handsome face completely obscured by nubile brown thighs and tightly curled black hair. She knew she had to do something to help him, but she remained rooted to the spot, while the girl added to his degradation by laughing and thrusting her black cunt up at his burrowing face.
"You can do better than that!" she said.
"Sheeyit, my damned dogs eats me better than ... Oh! Oh, yeah! Now you gettin' to me, baby. Keep that up, y'hear? That's the hot spot! Kiss it harder, white boy. Suck on it. Yeah! Ohhhh, yeahhhh...."
Now there was a look of almost sensual beauty crowding in on the vengeful anger on her face. Her smile was very broad, her teeth very white, and her black eyes were narrowing to slits as she forced the boy to kiss her exactly where she wanted him to. He was hanging onto her thighs with both hands, ready to push himself away at the first opportunity, or so Maude thought. But then the black girl's hand released his balls and slid up over his ass, looking very dark against that whitest part of him, and instead of pushing away, he pulled her legs farther apart, and it appeared as if he were going to burrow face-first up between her legs.
"That's it! That's it!" cried the black girl, as if he'd discovered gold there. She had both hands on his head now, holding it where it was, though there was little need for that. He had a tight grip on her with both hands, and apparently with his mouth, for no matter how she bucked and kicked and arched on the wildly rumpled bed, his face remained fixed where she had placed it.
"GAHHHHH! YEAH, BABY, YEAH!" she howled, and again Maude covered her ears. "EAT IT SUCK IT LICK IT MAKE ME CUMMMM!" the black girl crowed, as her kickings sent the red pants flying off her other foot. "Baby, baby, ba-BEEE!" she yelled, her flying hips moving in tempo with her words. His hair was flying from the buffeting she was giving to his head, but he only gripped her more tightly, digging white fingers deep into brown flesh, until at last the girl arched up off the bed and her body became stiff and shuddering for several interminably long seconds before she slowly subsided onto her back, sighing loud and long.
"You can quit now. Whew! Hey, I said quit now!" she said.
He lifted his face, wet from chin to eyebrow with her juices. He grinned like an utter fool and said, "Was that okay, Velma? Now can I fuck you a little?"
"Ain't no such thing as fuckin' me a little. Me, I need lots of fuckin'. But bein's as you got such a little pecker, go ahead on. It's all I'm gonna get."
"Oh, boy!" he said, as he hurriedly crawled around to between her legs. "Oh, boy!"
His prick was in his hand, a slender white shaft, capped with a ruddy red knob, directed toward a slit that was far wider and considerably pinker than it was before he'd been made to kiss it. He was whimpering like a dog, in his eagerness, and then his handsome face twisted in despair when, at the last moment, she covered her crotch with her hand.
"Hey, whitey, I don't want you shootin' right away," she said. "You gonna ba able to hold back and give me a good ride?"
"I don't know! But I'll try. I'll sure try!"
"Tryin' don't count. I believe you better get up and jerk you'self off, and then next time around you can screw me good and make it last."
"Velma, please!" he said, and for the first time, Maude began to suspect that it might be desire rather than coercion that was driving her young lover.
"Well, go ahead on, but it better be good," said the girl, and opened the fingers of her hand, spreading out the lips of her inevitably well-oiled cunt.
He hunched his back and drove it at her, hunched and drove again when he missed and she yelped. The second time he very obviously found his target, for quite suddenly they were both humping with a frenzy of action that very nearly blurred the brown and the white flesh that Maude was gazing at so raptly.
"Don't you cum yet! Don't you shoot in me so quick, damn you!" cried the girl, her thick lips drawn back from her white teeth in a grimace that had to be orgasmic in nature.
"I can't help it! I just can't help it!" Robbie wailed, his buttocks flying, his hands clutching, his lips vainly seeking out those of the girl under him.
Their bodies were tightly fused. Their legs and arms were wrapped most intimately about each other. Their hips, however, were still going like mad, no matter how tightly they were locked in the embrace. And over his shoulder, the black girl's face could be seen, triumphantly grinning as he socked it to her with more energy than Maude had seen him expend in weeks.
They slowed to a stop. He was pathetically apologetic for having terminated their coupling so quickly. "Jeez, I'm sorry, Velma. Your pussy's so hot and tight I just couldn't help it!"
"Sorry don't help neither, you lyin' signifyin' white sombitch. A fast fuck like that might be good for that old bag you work for, but it sure ain't enough for me. You're gonna eat some more pussy now, and you're gonna eat it good! Git off me. Go on, damn it, git off me!"
Good Lord, thought Maude, did the girl know that she and her employee were lovers? That? was impossible, for she had sworn Robbie to secrecy, and she knew he would never break a promise to her. But the only other possibility was that he was screwing some other woman her age, some other 'old bag' and that was equally unthinkable. She remained hovering at the window, listening, watching, trying to learn all she could of the extent of her lover's infidelity.
He couldn't say much now, however, for he was on his back, with his mouth covered by the black girl's pussy. She was sitting on his face like a jockey in a saddle, her legs drawn up with her ankles over his shoulders, her hands holding his hair as if it were the reins of a horse. He had his hands on her buttocks. They were small buttocks, but quite protuberant, and they jiggled with the motion of her body as she rode his face, working her well-fucked cum over his mouth as he ate all of his own fresh cum out of her black fuck hole. She looked so young and tiny that it didn't seem possible that she could be old enough to enjoy sex, but her actions said that she was. Her waist was truly wasp-thin, her belly as flat as a board as it stretched with her actions. Sitting up like that, her little brown titties were jouncing with her gyrations on him. The nipples were still hard, and there was a definite uptilt to her breasts as she wriggled and squealed in delight at the administrations of his tongue. Her face was fairly beaming with evil, yet radiant joy as she held the boy's face captive between her legs. Maude couldn't see Robbie's face, but she could see his prick, that same one which had been in her so many times. It was all wet with the black girl's juices. His pubic hair was matted with them. His prick flopped limply around as he squirmed about under her, and then its floppings were not so limp, for it was starting to get hard again.
He reached down and gave it a few strokes with his hand. Disgusting. He had never had to resort to masturbation to get his big boy prick hard for Maude. But the strokes were only a few, for he had to get his hands back on those buttocks, which indeed had a cunning roundness to them that Maude had to grudgingly admit must feel good in a hand which could not see their color. And now his prick was hardening even more, though untouched, as he devoted his hands to her ass and his mouth to her cunt, the black girl urged him on with her words.
"Now you gettin' the idea, hon. Yeah, little Velma'll make a good pussy-licker outta you yet. Oh, yeahhhh. Black pussy make a man outta you, white boy. Eat it good. Eat it like you never ate out that ol' Maude cunt. Yeah! YEAH! YOW! YEOWW! Y-Y-Y-YEEOWWWW!"
There was no question about it, he had told her about his affair with his employer. Maude was so terribly ashamed. He had taken their pure love and defiled it by blabbing about it to a little tramp like her, and to God-only-knew how many others. It might be all over town. She might be a laughing stock. Worse, the police might know, and she could be arrested the very next day! She cringed against the wall, feeling like a hunted criminal in the night, feeling at the mercy of the hedonistic black girl on the other side of the window who was further exerting her evil influence on poor Robbie. She was a devil, that one. She had wheedled the information out of him and was now using it as a tool to degrade and debase him, as a weapon to pervert him to her wicked pleasures. Even as she watched, his perversion was increasing, for the evil black witch's cunt on his mouth had by then stiffened his prick entirely.
Her body was twitching and jerking in the aftermath of her mouth-inspired orgasm. She leaned back and reached his prick with her hand, grinned more broadly, and said, "You about ready to give little Velma a real screw now?"
He nodded vigorously, sending another series of shuddering spasms through the body of the girl perched on his mouth, and she placed her hands on his forehead to push her weight up off his face. Again he was grinning like a fool when his face became visible, and to add to the idiocy with which she had injected him, he stuck out his cunkwet tongue and wriggled it at her, even as she was moving down on his body.
"What do you want?" she asked, tittering, as she slithered her cunt down over his smooth chest. "You want to eat it some more, or do you want to screw?"
"Anything! Anything you want to give me, Velma!" he said panting with the evil lust that contaminated him, raising his hips and his prick in search of her cunt. "I'd like to eat it and fuck it at the same time, if I could."
"Well, fuck it now," she said, and emitted a husky, yet cooing moan as she settled down with her cunt on his prick.
Velma had moved with a good deal of energy when her cunt was on his face. But now she was a veritable whirlwind of wild action as she squatted over his prick. Her Afro hairdo was fluffily bouncing and her little titties were dancing crazily. Her slender waist was twisting as if it were hinged with a universal joint, and her fat little buttocks were slapping wetly against his thighs. He was trying to throw his prick up to her, but there was no need for that with the way she was going. Maude felt a sharp twinge of jealousy at the frenetic energy of the young, but she also knew that such wild energies are not the stuff of which true sexual pleasure is made. True sexual pleasure comes from the langorous embrace which is invested with love, pure love, and her heart was breaking to see her love engaged in this loveless coupling. Also, quite shamefully, her pussy was getting more than a little wet and itchy from her having to watch this disgusting display of carnal sex.
"YOU! YEAH! GO, GO, GO! YEA! YEA!" The girls cries were nauseating as she rode Robbie's prick with ever-increasing abandon. And these cries too, were infecting the poor, impressionable boy.
"FUCK! FU-HU-HUCK! GONNA FUCK THE GODDAMN HELL OUTTA YOU! GONNA FUCK LIKE I NEVER FUCKED BEFORE! RIDE IT, VELMA! STAY WITH ME! OH! OH, BABY, HERE IT COMES! NOW, NOW, NOWWW!"
"SQUIRT IT TO ME, SOCK IT TO ME, FUCK IT TO ME, BA-BEE!! ! YAAAAGGGH! CUM LIKE YOU NEVER CUM BEFORE!"
"I AM! OH BABY, I AMMMMM ... NNNnnnnnngggggg...."
She fell forward on him, and for several seconds they lay clasped together, panting and puffing, and from her vantage point, Maude could see his sweet white prick, deeply imbedded in the rosy red cleft between Velma's black legs. Their pantings turned to sighs, and he made a smiling grimace as she rolled off him to snuggle up at his side.
"GODDAMN," she said. "You ain't so bad after all, sugar."
"Well, you're just terrific," he said. "Fucking you makes fucking Maude seem about as good as jerking off."
"How long you been fucking her?"
"Since the first day she came to work here," he said with a smug grin.
"She seems like a nice enough old broad. I guess she was pretty lonely after her old man died."
"Sheeyit," he said. "I would have been fucking her if he was alive or dead. The silly old broad, she thinks I'm in love with her."
"Only thing you're in love with is pussy," said the giggling girl, as she reached again for his deflated prick. Then she moved her hand away and said, "Hey, I better leave you alone. I get you all wore out, you ain't gonna be able to slip it to your boss tomorrow, and you gone lose your job. O' course, you could always hold onto your job by eatin' it tomorrow."
"Me eat her sloppy old cunt? Not on your life. I'll fuck it and I'll get paid for fucking it, but I'll be damned if I'll ever eat it. She's got a stinky old cunt, not one that's all sweet and hot and good like yours."
She lifted her head and said, "Is my pussy really sweet?"
"Just like honey, that's all."
"Well, then, come on and eat it some more, you big ol' bumble-bee."
Maude crept away from the diner, blinded by tears.
CHAPTER SIX
The Chevy wandered all over the road as Maude drove homeward. She didn't care if she was picked up for reckless driving. Her lover was false, and her world had ended. She would have driven the car into the oncoming traffic if she didn't have the responsibility of her son to take care of. Except for him, she felt utterly alone and lonely in the world. And what a cruel world it was, first to take her dearly beloved husband from her, then to show her that her young lover was nothing but a sex fiend. And even though Robbie had shown his true colors, she still felt a residual love for him. Her pussy was wet, and she was ashamed of that, but she couldn't help it. Neither could she help having flashing mental sights of him so enthusiastically screwing the black girl, eating her cunt, kissing her, wrestling on the bed with her, and worst of all, standing there naked beside the bed, pleading with his eyes and with his standing prick to let him do it to her. He was awful, he was disgusting, and yet she couldn't quite shake the love she had felt for him.
She parked the car before her house and sat in it for several minutes, trying to work up the anger that a woman should feel toward an unfaithful lover. She could feel twinges of that anger, but those twinges did not overcome the warm yearning she still felt for him down between her legs. At last she wearily dragged herself out of the car and into the house, and there she headed for the bottle of vodka she kept on the top shelf of a kitchen cabinet. She poured herself a good four ounces of it over ice cubes and sat dejectedly in the reclining chair before the silently staring eye of the television screen. It seemed to be accusing her of being the "old bag" that Robbie had said she was, it seemed to be laughing at her loneliness. She felt as if her world had ended, and to make her situation worse, her pussy itch was becoming intolerable.
Maude went into the kitchen for another measure of the soothing vodka. She roamed the silent house, glass in hand. Peeping into her son's bedroom, she saw him peacefully sleeping with the night light left on. There, at least, was one person in the world who loved her. She went into the bathroom to urinate, and it was all she could do to keep from masturbating there, as she squatted on the pot. She was actually panting when she blotted herself dry, and she had no idea why her treacherous body was infected with sexual desire.
Maude rose and snugged up her panties and her old, slightly tight, cotton pants around her trembling loins. She finished her second drink and headed toward the kitchen to have a third one which she knew would let her sleep. But as she passed her son's bedroom, he whimpered in his sleep. He was having a bad dream. She had heard that whimper before, and she knew how to comfort him in his sleep. Silently entering his room, she felt drunker than she was, and she tried to force calm upon herself as she tiptoed to the side of his bed.
Peter's beautiful young face was creased with a frown as he slept. His fair hair was spread on the pillow like an angel's halo, and his sweet lips were parted so that the tip of his tongue barely showed in the dim light. His strong young body, still to grow more, was clearly outlined under the covers, and she ran a mother's loving hands lightly and tenderly over that body which had fourteen years before resided in her womb.
"There, there, dear," she murmured to her sleeping son. "Mother's here, and everything's all right. Sleep sweetly, dear, and put away all those bad dreams. Don't dream about monsters, dream about happy little goats frolicking in the sunshine," she whispered, smoothing her hand over his incredibly smooth, beautifully warm cheek. "Mama's good little boy dasn't have bad dreams, or hell be all tired out in the morning. He's got to sleep soundly, even though his Mama won't be able to sleep at all, she's so fucking horny."
Maude stopped abruptly and put her hand over her mouth. What an awful thing to say! It had been the liquor in her talking, not her true self. But of course, Peter hadn't heard it, even though he smiled a little and stirred closer to her in his sleep. His smile was from the fact that she was talking to him, she was there beside him saying words whose meaning was immaterial, but whose soothing tone would dispel his nightmares and let him sleep. She could, she realized, say anything she wanted to him. just as long as she used a soothing tone. The idea of that, the notion of letting herself go and verbally relieving the burdens within her, was oddly exhilarating to Maude, and she swallowed hard as she carefully laid down beside him on his bed. He snuggled closer in his sleep as she murmured softly to him with her lips very close to his ear.
"Darling baby, sleeping so sweetly, he doesn't understand about what a horny mama he's got. Sweet little boy who's yet to become a man, he just isn't old enough to know about these things. But Peter's a good boy, and he'll never do anything to hurt the woman he loves. He'll just love her, nice and good, and never be mean to her or cheat on her. Hell snuggle up close to his woman every night and warm her with his nice, strong body. He'll hug her and kiss her and play with her big old titties and put his hands all over her body, and he'll never be mean to her. He's so sweet, he couldn't be mean to anybody."
She snuggled closer still, and he stirred in his sleep to accommodate her nestling body. He was such a good boy, so very dear to her. She knew a real motherly ecstasy as she ran her loving hand down over the warm curves of his body, gently feeling his sturdy back, his athletic waist, the plump curve of his buttocks, the compact muscularity of the back of his thighs. But as gentle as she was, he was moving more in his sleep, and Maude's breathy whisper was even more soothing as she continued.
"Hush, darling, sweet baby, dear beautiful boy. Mama's here to make everything nice with you." One of his arms was on top of the covers, and it came easily to encircle her as she helped it along. "With our arms about each other in the night, nobody can hurt either one of us. We're close, so close, even closer than Robbie and I were when he was inside me, sliding his beautiful little prick in and out of my hot old stinky old cunt. Pretty soon you'll be doing that to some woman, but you'll do it right. He never did satisfy me. A boy like you could, though, if you were a few years older. A boy like you could satisfy a woman by just touching her cunt with your prickie, if only your prickie were a little bit hard. Or is it hard yet? Are you old enough to have a stiffie? Hush, dear. Don't move. It's only your mama, trying to find out about her little boy."
It was all right, she told herself, as she stealthily reached a hand under the covers that separated them. She just wanted to find out about the adolescent growth of her son, about his development as a man, and there was no other time to do this except when he was asleep. Pubescent boys got erections when they were asleep, as evidenced by the wet dreams that they had. He was probably having a wet dream and not a nightmare when he was murmuring and whimpering in his sleep, and she had to find that out. It was quite all right. All mothers undoubtedly did this as then-sons went through this difficult age.
"Sleep, baby, sleep," she murmured, as her hands smoothed along in slow circular movements, ever so gentle, over his shallowly moving chest, inside his pajamas, down toward where his body heat seemed to be the greatest. He stirred again, rolling slightly away from her, onto his back. His legs opened up as he did this, and Maude captured one of them between her thighs in order to keep him from rolling even farther away from her.
By then her hand was down to his belly, and she couldn't keep from tickling gently inside his navel, whispering, "Tickie, tickie, tickie, little darlin'. " He almost giggled in his sleep, and he turned his head so that his lips were close to hers. She tasted them with her tongue, while with her hand, she explored lower still on his sleep-warmed body.
The first touch of his pubic hair was electrifying to her. It was silky and sparse, not at all like the coarse curly hair his father had there. She was having trouble breathing now, and all she could do was softly shush him as she reached lower. She bit her lip to suppress a moan of agonized pleasure when her seeking fingers found the shaft of his penis-hard as a rock, and seemingly even larger than Robbie's.
"Sleep, baby, sleep," she whispered, as her trembling fingers very gently encircled his prick, felt its pulsing warmth, and crept up its hard length toward its knob. She hadn't seen his penis for years, and of course she'd never seen it hard, but now she was seeing every bit of it with her oh-so-gentle fingers. A lovely, deep tingle of pure pleasure spread through her as she touched the head of his prick, found its firm softness under the velvety covering of its foreskin. With utmost care, hardly daring to breathe, she drew back that foreskin, and at this, he stirred again. He opened his legs wider and so did she, and when that leg of his was between hers was thrust forward, she captured it more tightly still between hers and hugged it hard with her thighs. It was right against her cunt! It was infusing her with feelings undoubtedly a hundred times greater than the feelings Robbie's prick had given to the black slut, and it was all Maude could do to keep from squeezing it even harder.
But that was not the reason for her being in bed with her son. As a matter-of-fact, she'd forgotten the reason for her presence there, but then as her hand closed even more warmly about his very warm prick, her motives returned to her. He was on the verge of having a wet dream when she'd entered, and she was there to help him with it, to keep him from waking up and helping it along with the very harmful practice of masturbation.
"Easy, easy, baby. Mommy's here," she said, moving her circling hand very nicely up and down his strong little prick. "Mother'll help you have a nice little cum-cum, and then you can sleep without any nasty old dreams in your pretty head. But what was it you were dreaming about?" she asked, feeling the warmth in his prick going up through the pit of her stomach, and ending in her. cunt, mashed against his thigh, feeling softer and warmer by the moment.
"Were you dreaming about some sexy little candy-assed girl at school? Were you dreaming about some film star with her tits all blown up with silicone treatments? Baby, baby, were you dreaming about your horny old mother, all sexy and beautiful in lacy negligee, drenched in perfume, hot red lipstick on her mouth, with her pussy all open and itching and waiting for you? Oh God, I'm gonna cum with you if I go on talking like that,"
Maude hitched herself forward and took an even closer grip on his thigh with hers. It almost made her cum, and she fought for a moment with herself before she regained her control. She could feel the little mouth of his prick with the ball of her thumb, and it was wet and sticky with his seminal fluid, and even the smearing of this with her thumb was a thrill to her. He was still asleep, but he was breathing harder now and his face was turned to hers. She steeled herself against any further insidious pleasures that might creep in on her in her drunken condition, and she touched her lips against his, warm and moist, as she continued to coax him on to his very necessary nocturnal emission ... but slowly.
"Cum, baby. Cum for Mama. Are your little balls nice and full?" she asked, and reluctantly let go of his prick long enough to very gently roll his testicles in her hand, weighing them, feeling their exquisitely soft texture, and squeezing them very gently to bring him still closer to the point where they would be emptied. "Sweet little balls, darling little balls. I'd like to get down there and taste them, suck 'em into my mouth and lick 'em all over with my tongue. I'd like to suck on this, too," she said against his intoxicatingly sweet lips, as he hand returned to his prick, its end even wetter now with his entirely pure seminal fluid.
"I'd like to feel this in my hot old cunt," she whispered, her voice growing hoarse now as lust for her son crept inexorably deeper into her. "You'd make me cum. You'd make any other boy seem sick in comparison. Gawd, I can almost feel it inside me," she confessed, as now her careful control weakened, and her hand was trembling in its eagerness as she drew back his foreskin and spread his sexy wetness over the straining knob of his prick. And her words were hot and fast as she said, "I love you and you love me and it isn't right that we can't fuck. You're hot and I'm hot and there shouldn't be anyone to tell us we can't fuck and suck and do it all the time-all the time!" and she jerked it off quickly and efficiently and, above all, passionately. Their hot breaths mingled as she pressed her lips hard against his dear mouth, and as she pressed that much hotter mouth very hard against his moving leg. "Cum! Cum!" she commanded and, obedient boy that he was, he sent hot spurts of his sperm out of his balls, through his prick and her circling hand, and into his pajamas.
She capped his erupting prick with her hand. She was cumming herself, squeezing even harder at his squirming thigh, humping quickly and blindly against it. His prick was shooting into her palm, and she was smearing his good stuff all over it as she stroked its length with her fingers, up and down, lubricating it, even as her cunt was lubricating itself as it was thrust against his leg. She stabbed him deeply with her tongue. She pressed his spurting prick against his belly and rubbed her hot hand all over it, further smearing his final spurting, while she found the perfect firm place against his leg on which to rub her swollen and enormously sensitive clitoris. It was heavenly. There was no sin involved, none whatsoever, for nothing this ecstatically sweet could be considered a sin. It was all pure goodness that flowed between their orgasming bodies ... until his eyes came open and the arm about her clutched hard at her.
Instantly her hand was up and out of the covers, and Maude was sitting up. She was terribly flustered, still orgasming, but with her son's innocence at stake, able to pull herself together in an instant.
"I had a terrible time waking you up, Peter. You were having the most terrible nightmare, and I came in to help you. I guess you were dreaming you were in a wrestling match with the devil, because you almost crushed me when I sat down on your bed. Are you all right now, dear?"
"Yup. I sure am," he said, his face devilishly handsome now sis he grinned up at his flushed and panting mother, his hands moving under the covers in the direction of his loins.
She patted his cheek, not trusting herself to kiss it, and she rose on her buttery-weak legs. "I think you can sleep now," she said, "without any more nasty dreams to keep you awake."
"If you ask me, it wasn't a nasty dream at all," said he, and his langorous smile lingered in Maude's mind long after she had turned off his night light.
CHAPTER SEVEN
It was a grim-lipped Maude Sloane who drove to her place of business the next morning. She had a hangover and she was exhausted from a long and fitful night of compulsive and very unsatisfying masturbation. She was also racked by guilt over having laid with her son and having made him cum with her, even though she knew it had not been her fault nor his. Everything, from her hangover to her guilt, was the cause of Robbie, her perfidious lover. That baby-faced viper had broken her heart and come close to ruining her life, and she wanted to strangle him. That was impossible, of course. She had to go on with him as if nothing had happened, and then slowly ease herself out of the situation she'd gotten herself into, for if she gave vent to her feelings about him. he just might take his revenge by telling everyone in town about their sordid little affair, and then she'd truly be ruined.
She parked the car beside the diner. After his night of fornication, Robbie would probably show up late. He would come rolling in about seven, sweet talking her, expecting her to take him into the back room for his usual first thing in the morning blow-job, but she would be too busy for him that day. The very thought of sucking the prick that he'd used in the black girl's cunt all but turned Maude's stomach as she fitted the key in the lock and entered her place of business. When Robbie came in she'd treat him with all the warmth she could muster, but she'd tell him she had become ill. She would invent some loathesome disease of the pussy, one so repugnant that he'd quit his job voluntarily. And if he didn't quit in a few weeks, she'd find some excuse to discharge him without creating any ill feelings. She had to get rid of him, for if she kept him on, she would wind up playing second banana to his black nymphomaniac and to any other mindless teenyboppers he lured into her back room. Although she had been far from sensible in her relations with the boy so far, she would in the future use her head, not her gonads. She walked briskly into the kitchen, and was promptly paralyzed by the sight of him grinning at her from his usual place by the sink.
His hair was slightly tousled and his grin had that lop-sided tilt to it that she had come to recognize as indicating his wanting her. His shirt was off, and his little tan nipples looked every bit as kissable as his lips. His jeans hung low, a good four inches below the navel in which she had so often probed with her tongue, and Maude was certain that one of the folds in the crotch of those tattered trousers concealed a prick that was its usual hard self at that time in the morning. He greeted her in his softly sibilant voice, and she moved forward on trembling legs to kiss him. His lips were warm, the tip of his tongue most tingling to her. He did not touch her, for his hands were wet with soapy water from doing up the pans, but she touched him. She slid her hand down over his smooth belly, inside the loose waistband of his pants, and the touch of his stiff prick, trying to reach out over his warm, flat tummy, was even better to her than the pressing of her tightly bound crotch against the point of his hip. In preparation for her confrontation with him, she had donned her trusty panty-girdle, and she knew very well that if she had not worn it, all her good resolves would have fled her, and she'd have dropped to her knees, ripped off his pants, and sucked the prick in her hand until his balls were dry.
Even as it was, the lust was so strong in her that she could hardly speak when at last their clinging lips parted. "I somehow didn't expect to see you in this early, Robbie."
"I came in late last night. I wrote some poems for you, and then I fell asleep on the bed."
"Poems? Where are they?" she said, unable as yet to let go of the velvet-covered shaft of oak she held in her hand.
"They sounded silly this morning, so I tore 'em up. D'you, uh, wanna fuck?"
Perhaps if he hadn't asked her quite so bluntly, she might have succumbed to his wishes and to those of her body. As it was, she gathered herself together and withdrew her shaking hand from the yearning warmth of his prick. She said, "Darling, I'd love to fuck, and to suck, but first I'd better make a little pee-pee."
In the bathroom, she leaned against the sink, panting, looking into the mirror at the reflection of a woman whose lovely features were distorted by a lust that was on the verge of consuming her. She fought the battle there in that tiny bathroom, that battle between her brain and her cunt, between her freedom as a woman and her servitude to a mere boy. And when the battle was over, she laboriously tugged her panty-girdle down to her knees and sat on the toilet to empty her bladder.
In those cramped quarters, the medicine cabinet was within reach. From it she took the scissors with which her late husband used to trim his fingernails, and with these she carefully cut away the crotch of her panty-girdle. This was not elasticized. It was made of double heavy satin, white as her uniform originally, but now somewhat darkened by the secretions of her vagina. Previous launderings had not completely removed the stains from her sex, for those stains had been rather copious. They had been added to in the few minutes she had been in the diner, for her pussy had begun to bubble and flow like an inverted fountain at the first sight of her young lover. The raggedly rectangular patch of material she held in her hand was quite redolent of her womanly sex. It made her wrinkle her nose as she held it there. She placed it on the edge of the sink and stared at it as she blotted herself dry and rose and struggled back into her crotchless panty-girdle. She had trouble in controlling her breathing as she tucked the patch of dirty cloth in her hand and returned on quivering legs to the kitchen, there to give the boy one last chance.
He was toweling his hands dry, his grin still tilted as he looked her up and down with his hot young eyes. She stopped three feet in front of him and posed with a fist on her hip. That fist contained the crotch of her panty-girdle, and with the other hand she undid the top button of her skirt as she smiled and said to him, "You'd rather fuck this morning than have me suck your pretty little prickie-poo?"
"He shrugged. "I wouldn't mind a b.j., but I thought maybe you'd like a screw to start things off for a change."
"Trying to make up for something?" she asked, opening the second button down.
"Like what?" he said, his gaze following every movement of her hand.
"Oh, like tearing up those poems before you showed them to me."
"Maybe so," he said, now rubbing at the stiff bulge in his pants. "Hey, you wearing your girdle again?"
"Most of it," she replied, and opening the lowest button of her skirt, she flipped back the flap of her skirt to reveal her plumply tapered thighs, her smoothly contained hips, and the frayed edge of her crotch band, through which her dark pubic hair protruded ina short and curly tangle.
His mouth came open and he crouched lower to look.
"Like what you see?" she asked, rubbing his head with her fist.
"Wow! Your cunt's just about hanging right out!"
"For a real nice change, why don't you try a taste of me, luv? It'll make a man out of you, so they tell me."
He started to straighten up, his eyes rolling fearfully up to meet her gaze, and he said, "You know I don't go for that sort of thing, Maude."
"How do you know if you've never tried it?" she asked, rubbing the back of his neck with her fist, truly hoping that he would accept this final chance she was giving him. "Try it, you'll like it."
"For your sake, I'd sure like to. But you know darned good and well I'd never do it. But do you want to fuck?"
Maude felt all the lust for him draining out of her as she kissed him on the forehead. She said, That'll be fine, dear. But first you finish up those pots and pans."
He quickly turned back to his work. She sighed as she looked at the young strength of his bare back, at the lovely way in which the hair curled at the nape of his neck. She could see the first indentations of the cleave of his buttocks, those same buttocks which had been burnt on her griddle to start their wild but frustrating affair. His legs were slightly parted, making it quite easy for her to reach up between them and get a good, hard fistful of his balls.
"YOWWWWWWWW!" His scream of pain was music to her ears, and she tightened her grip on him. She held him, chuckling wickedly, until his struggles had stopped and his screams had changed to whimpers. That place where the lust had been in her was now filled with a righteous indignation that paid no heed to any consequences she might have to face for this revenge that was so very sweet to her.
Squeezing hard, she forced him down onto the floor, where he lay gasping like a beached fish on the dirty duck boards, beating weakly at her avenging hand. He was on his side, weakly kicking, in so much torment that it was an easy matter for her to switch hands and hold him from the front. She placed a knee in his chest to further flatten him, and her smile was cruel and her tone was harsh as she spoke down to him:
"You ungrateful little bastard. I saw you in here eating that black girl's cunt last night. You're not even good enough to eat mine after that. But you are going to eat it by proxy."
In a strangled voice, he said, "Lemme go, Maude. You're killing me! What're you talking about?"
"This!" she said, dangling the crotch of her panty-girdle before his twisted face. "This is all you'll ever get of my cunt again," she said, rubbing it over his face, laughing at the new consternation it brought to his features. "Eat it! Chew it up and swallow it!" she cried, and cut off his further screams by stuffing it in his mouth.
He was completely at her mercy. With the hold she had on his balls, he'd have consumed a live porcupine if she had so designed it. As it was, she was quite content to have him eat that soiled bit of cloth, savoring every moment of his tortured chewing and the hard, hard gulping until it was gone and he was panting and close to fainting.
"Now, listen to me, young man," she said. "If you ever breathe one word of anything that's happened between us here, I will personally see to it that these nasty little balls I hold in my hand are surgically removed, fried in hot grease, and put in the same place where the crotch of my girdle went. Is that clear?"
"Maude, Maude, I'm sorry. I'm sorry," he wailed.
"Sorry doesn't help. It's too late for sorry. Now, up you go. Up and out of here. Pick up your shirt, and out the door you go, and don't ever come in here again."
With that grip she had on him, it was ridiculously easy to guide him to the front door. There were no customers in sight, no one on the streets in that vicinity at the moment. With a final very gratifying squeeze, she propelled him out the front door, calling after him:
"Here's a poem for you! Get your ass in gear! Get out of here, Or I'll cut off your balls And make you a queer!"
She stood there panting in the doorway, watching Robbie as he ran, half-staggering, toward town, and a tremendous feeling of power surged through her. She didn't need him, not as a lover or as an employee. She could handle the diner by herself, and take care of her sexual needs with her good right hand, if necessary. But she knew very well that with a face and figure and a lusty appetite like hers, she could have a real man, one who appreciated the taste of a mature cunt, one who had a penis that was something a good deal more than Robbie's puny little dingus.
This feeling of power was so strong in her that she had to go in and sit down, lest it overcome her. She sat on a stool on the customer side of the counter, still panting with the nearly spiritual feeling flowing through her. They seemed to emanate from her cunt, all wet and juicy. If she'd had her way, a big white stallion would come trotting up to the door, and she would mount it bareback, feel its powerful muscles rippling between her legs as she directed it over hill and dale with one hand in its flowing mane, and the other wielding a riding crop across its heaving flanks. She could almost feel the stallion's heavy spine against her cunt, as she rode with bare breasts bouncing, flying past the hordes of immature boys who lusted for her gloriously beautiful body, until at last she came to the castle of the all-powerful king, the only man in the world powerful enough to claim her for his bride. She was rocking on the stool, eyes closed, thighs very tightly clenched, actually feeling his embrace, when the door opened behind her.
It was the Reverend Horton. He brushed against Maude as he took the seat beside her, and her fantasies had been such that the fleeting contact with him sent warm shivers of desire fingering through her body. She didn't want Cass Horton, she wanted her all-powerful king. She felt antagonistic to the preacher man for having interrupted her fantasies, but she was outwardly nice to him. She pitied him for being such a sexless man. She couldn't even feel his gaze burning through her uniform as she turned her back on him to make the morning's coffee. There had to be something wrong with any man who didn't ogle Maude Sloane a little.
"Just saw young Robert high-tailin' it down the road," he said. "The boy looked like the devil himself was behind him."
"I caught him taking money from the cash register," Maude blandly lied, "so I fired him."
"That's a shame. I thought he was an honest boy. Looks like I'll have to pay a call on him and get him on down to my place."
"Hide your valuables when you do," said Maude, taking great pleasure from slandering her former lover. "Hide the collection box."
"I'd have him over to my house. I'm sorta easin' out of the church in favor of work with the youth of today. There's so many boys and girls on the road now, just driftin', that I figured I could do more good work by settin' in some bunks so the kids passin' through Ash Creek can get a good night's rest, and I'm fixing up my kitchen so's I can serve some hot meals. All for a reasonable price. And while they're there, I'll do my best to give the boys and girls a little guidance."
"Boys like Robert need a lot of that. And girls like that trashy Velma could use a bit of guidance, too."
He chuckled and said, "Yeah, I'd like to get her down there. You, too, as a matter-of-fact. I'd like to give you a little cock, Miz Sloane."
"What did you say?" said Maude, turning about.
"I said, I'd like to give you a little talk about the good and the bad in this world. And I'd like your help in tellin' me how to set up to feed a flock of itinerant kids. If you was to come over and help me out, I'd get down on my knees to thank you."
"I'm much too busy here, as well as taking care of my boy at home," she said, as she served him his free coffee.
"Well, you might tell your boy to come down when he feels like it. I'm puttin' in a pool table and a ping-pong table. It'll be a sort of social club as well as a youth hostel." A dribble of coffee went down over his chin, and deftly and amazingly, he flicked out a shockingly long tongue and caught it.
"I'll tell him about it," she said, turning away, angry at Cass Horton for having accidentally ignited a hot flame of desire that licked at her legs even as his tongue had licked at his chin.
She left him to continue with Robbie's work in the kitchen. If she could, she'd have grabbed him by the balls and thrown him out of there, just as she had with Robbie. She knew how to handle the male animal now. Toughness, not tenderness, was the way. Get them in their weakest spot, show them no mercy, use them instead of being used by them. That was the way.
She quickly finished washing the pots and pans and returned to find the preacher finishing his coffee. She bade him goodbye, vowing to herself to charge him for everything he consumed in her diner in the future. This was a business, and she was going to make a profit at it. She was going to run it by herself in the future, too. If she spent her time working instead of fucking, it would be easy to handle Robbie's job as well as her own, and the hard work would keep her mind off her itching cunt. She would make a lot of money, expand the diner into a real restaurant, and within a dozen years, she'd have a chain of Maude's Diners that ran clear across the country. Bursting with energy, she set about to reorganize things to make it easier to run the place all by herself. She paid no attention at all to her cunt. Let it get so hot and itchy that it overflowed and ran its juices down her leg, and still she would ignore it. Physical pleasures were behind her, and in the future she would devote all her energies to the business world, and of course to her son.
Maude worked like a dog that day, but she handled the two-man operation all by herself. She was exhausted when she got home, and barely had to strength to greet her son. She drank four ounces of chilled vodka while she changed into her old chenille robe. Too sore and tired to even take a shower, she flopped down on her bed to rest before she started fixing dinner.
"You okay, Mom?" said her son's voice from the bedroom doorway.
"Just tired," she muttered. "And my back hurts."
"You want me to give you a back rub?" he thoughtfully suggested.
"Ahhh, that'd be wonderful," she replied.
Peter climbed up on the bed and straddled her hips. He gingerly settled himself down on the cushions of her buttocks and began applying pressure to her spine with his hands. He slowly and rhythmically pushed at her back, creating little twinges of healing pain as he made the vertebrae pop. It felt heavenly. Maude felt she could drift off to sleep and never wake up. She was very close to going to sleep when he said, "It'd probably feel even better if I used some of your lotion. Why don't you take your arms out of the sleeves of your robe while I go get it."
"Fine. Fine," she murmured, on Cloud Nine already, and quite ready to go on up to heaven for a little while.
She felt like she was under water as she struggled her arms out of the sleeves. Her body felt heavy, and her movements were very slow, but she was somehow able to bare her shoulders and arms by the time he got back, plastic bottle in hand. He settled down on her buttocks again, and even the pressure of his warm loins on her sore buttocks felt good. The lotion made slurping sounds as he spread it onto his hands. Its coldness caused her to shiver when he began smoothing it into her tired shoulders, but in just a few moments their combined body temperatures had warmed it up, and his dear hands were moving with exquisite smoothness over the nape of her neck, her shoulders, and the upper part of her spine.
"Feel good, Mom?" he said, leaning forward, pressing another warmth against her tailbone.
"Won'erful," she sighed, and he leaned back again, pulling her robe down a few more inches to expose more of her sore back.
This was the broadest part of her back, nicely curved, covered with a soft layer of womanly plumpness, under which her aching bones and muscles were being healed by his hands. His hands were surprisingly good. She didn't mind at all that their fingers went down over her ribs to soothe the lotion into the softly extruded sides of her breasts. He leaned forward and back in his administrations, gradually moving lower on her buttocks, snuggling the warmth of his youthful loins into the crevice of her buttocks. He was such a good boy, and she felt so happy that he was helping her in this way. She shivered again when a fresh application of relatively cold lotion was made to the small of her back, that sorest part of it. By then he was sitting on the highest plumpest part of her buttocks, increasing the tempo of his rhythmic pressures, panting a little with his efforts as she drifted closer to sleep. She scarcely heard his soft but urgent little moans as he completed the job by pummeling her back with the edges of his hands, then digging the balls of his fingers deeply into the sides of her buttocks and squirming on top of her ass.
CHAPTER EIGHT
The increased work took its toll on Maude. She was on her feet all day, cooking, serving, washing dishes, cleaning up, making more money, and exhausting herself. It was a strain on her to be nice to her customers all day, when she really wanted to kick them in the balls and drive them out of there so she could retire to the back room for a good long nap. But she was making more money, and she was usually too tired to think about getting horny for the young, handsome boys who came into her place. The best part of her days was when she came home, and her son did his best to heal the hurts of her day. More than anything else, she looked forward to their meetings at night, even thought they were becoming dangerously intimate after two weeks of running the diner by herself. One Wednesday night was typical of this at the start, but went a little further than usual in its intimacy between mother and son.
Maude and Peter exchanged a kiss when she got home, and then she went directly to the vodka bottle. Its artificial warmth sustained her while she cooked dinner for them. They each had two glasses of wine during dinner, and they talked about the events of the day. Maude was still in her working clothes. Brassiere and panty-girdle, nylons and sturdy shoes, and her white nylon uniform, slightly soiled from her hard day's work. She longed to divest herself of these confining garments, but there was a sweetness to the torture of keeping them on for a while longer in anticipation of the good feelings she would know in their removal. As usual, she could hardly wait for her son to finish up the last crumb of the brownie she brought home from the diner.
And as usual, he then said, "Can I get you your after-dinner drink now, Mom?"
With her increased affluence, Maude had invested in a bottle of peppermint schnapps, and she turned sideways in her chair at the table while her son went to fetch her a glass of it. She sipped it delicately, luxuriously, while he went to his knees before her and asked if he could help her off with her shoes.
"That'd be lovely, dear," she said, and reached up to flick off the light switch on the wall, leaving the living room illuminated by only the glow from the kitchen light. Her son looked like a prince, and she felt like Cinderella as he knelt to remove the shoes from her tired feet.
"Feel nice?" he asked, squeezing and kneading her toes in each hand.
"Mmmmmm. Delicious," she said, smiling down on him, and inching up her skirt.
He watched its upward progress with the interest of a normal teenage boy, and Maude continued to smile at him as she shifted her ample buttocks on the chair seat to facilitate the unsnapping of her garter clips. The pressures of his fingers could be felt tingling up through her legs as he worked over the arches of her feet, and squeezed and massaged her ankles.
"Can I help you off with your hose, Mom?" he asked, watching as she rolled one stocking-top down a few inches, then the other.
"Oh, I don't think you should do that," she said, as usual. "It would tickle me too much if you touched me there, and besides, my thighs are all sticky 'cause I perspire so at work."
"I wouldn't mind that," said he, working over her bunched calves with his hands, as she alternated from one stocking to the other, rolling each in turn down over her knees. Every now and then, he'd exert just the right pressure at just the right place, so that she could feel an electric finger reaching right up to her pussy. It was all right, it was her only real luxury of the day.
She picked up her glass and drank from it. Her hose were sagging about her knees, and she closed her eyes and let the hot fire of the liquor burn down to her stomach, even as the hot touch of her son's hands burned upward as he went against her half-hearted protests and reached up to her stocking-tops. He gave her a soft, lingering massage as he gently smoothed them down over her knees. He would pull the left one down a little distance, and then the right one, going back and forth, taking his time. That evening it was her right foot that he held in a warm, light embrace between his legs. The warmth of his genitals was nestled closely against the arch of that foot. It was all right. If she got certain sensual pleasures out of this regular evening ritual, he should have his share too.
When her stockings were down around her ankles, he ran his circling hands up and down her calves, saying, "you sure don't feel so sweaty and sticky to me."
"I am, though," she said, in a voice that was as warm and breathy as the good feelings she had flowing up through her legs to mix with the warmth in her belly. "I'll take a nice hot shower before you give me my back rub, so I'll feel all nice and clean for you, darling."
"You feel pretty good right now," he said, and lifted her right foot from under his crotch to remove that stocking, then placed the sole of that foot directly on his greatest warmth as he picked up her left foot.
He'd never done that before. Each night he was going a little farther, and each night Maude was enjoying it a little more. Quite shamelessly, she very softly wriggled her foot against the hardness she could feel there, and she smiled benignly down at him as he looked up at her with pleading adoration on his handsome young face. It was a dreamy, ethereal atmosphere of sensuality that existed between them at that moment, but he broke it by quickly, impulsively lifting her left foot to his lips and kissing it.
"You shouldn't do that," she said, quickly pushing back her chair, and standing up.
"I'm sorry," he murmured, but he didn't look sorry at all as he knelt at her feet.
And Maude was hardly sorry he'd done it, but she went ahead with their evening ritual, saying, "I'll take my shower now. Do you feel like getting into your pajamas while I do it, or are you going out after I fall asleep?"
"I might go out later. I hear old Reverend Horton's got a new pool table over at his place. But I'll get in my p.j.s anyway. It's more comfortable."
"Whatever you like, dear," she said, and bent to place a kiss on his cheek before brushing past him, knowing full well he was following her big, swinging hips with his gaze, and fully enjoying that feeling of his hot eyes on her tightly covered beauty.
Maude's impulse was to hurry through her shower, but she deliberately took her time. Heart thudding loudly, she stripped naked. Her body was extremely sensitive to the touch of her hands. She turned on the water and let it run. Also as usual, she'd forgotten to make herself another drink.
While the water warmed up, she wrapped a towel around herself and headed back to the kitchen. Peter was dawdling about, getting a drink of water. He watched her towel-wrapped body sidelong, grinning happily, while she prepared the ice and vodka. She kissed him on the cheek, and his hand slid about her waist.
She laughed and pushed it off her, despite the heavenly hot shivers it gave to her, and said, "Wait till I'm nice and sweet-smelling before you even touch me, dear."
"You smell pretty good to me right now," he said, trying for another kiss, another touch.
The shower was steaming, and so was Maude, as she drained half her drink there in the bathroom. She let the towel fall, ran her hand over her pursed lips, then down over her side where her son had touched her. Another sip of her drink and she was in the shower, soaping herself vigorously and thoroughly, lathering herself under her arms, under the heavy swells of her breasts, copiously between her legs, and all up and down the deep, deep cleft of her buttocks. Stepping back from the water, she soaped over every inch of her body, then stepped forward to let the hot water cleanse it all away. She rubbed herself dry with a big, fluffy towel, making her lush body glow and quiver with her brisk rubbings. Still her lovely, near-translucent skin was slightly damp with the steamy heat of the bathroom, and with her own body heat, and she dusted herself lightly with perfumed talc. Then she was all dry and sweet-smelling, with the exception of her vulva, quite moist with juices that could not be stopped from flowing, and with a different sweetness than that of the dusting powder. She could feel her heart beating rapidly and see the fine, high color in her face as she brushed out her hair before the mirror. Her big breasts, capped with stiff nipples, undulated very nicely up and down with the movements of her arm. Still fighting to keep from rushing things, she applied lipstick and eye shadow to her face, and then donned the robe she wore at this time of night.
She had just bought it the week before. It was not expensive, but it looked like it was. It was made of dark red rayon, with long, flaring sleeves, a frilly collar that came down to the middle of her chest, and a sash which kept the wrap-around garment closed. Its skirt came down to her ankles. The material was very clinging. It felt like a million tiny hands brushing over her nude and perfumed body whenever she moved. And it was just sheer enough to show the exact position of her nipples on her flattened, discoid breasts and the dark triangle of hair between her legs and the deep, dark line that marked the separation of her buttocks. She carried her drink with her, and her legs flashed through the robe's partings to mid-thigh as she walked out of the bathroom and into her bedroom.
As expected, Peter was already waiting for her, but his posture caught her by surprise, and she stopped short. He was bent over examining the crotch of the new pajamas she'd bought for him, the white, very light-weight pajamas that had cost more than her much flashier robe. She asked him what he was doing, and he straightened up and said, "The seam's coming loose."
"I'll sew it up tomorrow," she said, and went to lie face down on the bed. The instant he had stood upright, she had seen the tented bulge in his pajama bottoms. He had an erection, and that was all right. It was normal for a boy his age to be in that condition, and it was most self-indulgently flattering for Maude to know she was the cause of it. Most boys got their daily erections from looking at the little snips of girls at school, and it was safer and saner for him to get his from looking at her.
She smiled and watched him standing by the side of the bed, the light cloth of his pajamas poking out, while she sinuously writhed on her belly in unfastening her sash and opening the robe. The bedspread was old and had been worn very smooth and soft by many washings, but it felt rough against her naked flesh, and the roughness felt good. She wallowed in that roughness, rolling this way and that, as she arranged the flowing robe out about her like the wings of a big, scarlet moth, with the big mound of her body under it, as if she was all spread out on an examination board for the boy standing at her side to carefully examine, to dissect, if he chose to.
"Come, darling. I'm all ready for you now," she said, and she watched as he loomed closer, getting up on the bed with her.
On his knees to straddle her, she saw that the seam of his new pajamas was indeed coming out.
Further, she saw that he had not worn his shorts under his pajamas, as he usually did. She could see his testicles, pink and globular and covered with fine, sparse hairs, but she couldn't see his prick, for it was standing straight up. All this in just the instant before he straddled her. In that instant she saw the balls she had held in her hand a few weeks before, and the weak feeling this sight gave to her body was frightening. But it was all right, she told herself. Everything was all right, as he settled his loins on her buttocks, squirmed those balls comfortably into the groove of her thinly covered bottom, and both of them sighed as one when he placed his hands on her back.
This was just a warm-up. He rocked back and forth on her fanny while he quickly but thoroughly went over her rayon-covered back with his hands. Then he pivoted on her ass and did the same to her legs, working down from her thighs to her ankles and back, getting her ready for the real massage, pressing her harder against that rough bedspread, working his balls and the shaft of his prick even more comfortably into the warming groove of her ass-cheeks. She heard the seam of his pajama crotch tear as he turned around again to face her back, but she said nothing about it, being altogether too heavily sedated by the comfort of his body to protest. That evening, only one thin layer of red rayon separated his sweet little cock and balls from her ass-cheeks, but that was all right.
Maude smoothed her palms against the bedspread while her son picked up the bottle of scented lotion and rubbed it into his palms. She wriggled softly, burrowing her bare breasts closer against the firmly yielding bed, as with his fingertips he drew the robe down off her back, baring her to the waist. She could feel the imprint of his prick very clearly as he leaned forward to place a kiss between her shoulder blades in preparation for her back rub.
"Mmmmmm..." His warm, smooth, oily hands felt absolutely wonderful on her back. Round and round they went, in ever widening circles, going lower, wider, higher on her soft flesh.
"Feel good, Mom?" he softly asked.
"Yesss. I think I need a lot of it tonight," she said, and feeling daring, and wanting to return some of the sensual pleasures he was giving her, she flexed her buttocks to briefly clasp that warm part of him that was nestled there.
"Ahhhh..." He sighed in return, and pressed his thumping prick more closely against her as he bent again, this time to press his cheek against her spine.
Maude was dizzy with desire for him. When he sat back, she arched up and reached for her drink. He kept kneading in the small of her back, but leaned in the direction of the night stand, there to view what he could of her heavily pendant breast, dangling just an inch from the bedspread. Let him look at that heavy globe on which he had once sucked. It was all right. There was great beauty there, and fascination for him, and very frankly, she liked having him look at her.
When she settled back down, the liquor burning nicely in her, he began a steady rocking rhythm, back and forth, which she unconsciously matched with clutchings of her hands into the bedspread. Nearly his full weight was on her bottom, and this of course was transmitted down through her pelvis to her pube. That bulging part of her acted like the fulcrum of a teeterboard as her son shifted his weight back and forth, back and forth, breathing more deeply all the time.
His hands slid around her sides, down over her rib cage, and Maude compressed her lips between her teeth. She licked her lips as his fingers found the softness of her breasts and she stirred as his fingertips probed nearly to the edges of her areolas. Her legs moved apart a little and she squirmed her torso. His fingers hesitated, trembling, until she lifted the weight of her torso just a fraction by supporting it with her elbows. Then his fingers came on, the balls of them moving over the corrugated surface of her areolas. He caught her erect nipples between his index and his middle fingers and squeezed them very tentatively. She had never permitted him this before. She'd never lifted herself up like this for him to touch her nipples. It was thrilling, absolutely thrilling, but she knew it wasn't right.
"You shouldn't do that, darling. You shouldn't touch Momma like that," she murmured.
"I'm sorry," he said, almost moaning the words, but his fingers closed about her nipples, giving her a double tingle of sweetest pain, and he leaned forward to press a very warm kiss against the nape of her neck.
She squeezed his prick and balls with her buttocks. She fidgeted from side to side, rubbing the ends of her nipples against the bedspread, feeling his fingers open and close, open and close, feeling his kiss reach right up into her brain. Her clit felt as if it was poking out against the bedspread even harder than her nipples. She let it last, savored every second of it, came right to the edge of an orgasm, before she spoke:
"Honey, you shouldn't do that. Now, stop. I mean it, darling."
"I'm sorry," he said, and his fingers trailed away, up to her back again, and now every place they touched was as sensitive as her hard, yearning nipples.
"Do my legs now, Peter darling."
"Sure, Mom."
He laboriously turned around on her. He must have ripped out the entire crotch seam of his pajamas. Maude could feel his balls, the hard base of his prick, even his bare buttocks, burrowing like a heavenly drill in the crevice of her ass before he was at last facing her feet. Through his ass on hers, she could feel the tempo of his breathing as he put more lotion on his hands. She felt extremely close to him, somewhere between a mother-son relationship and that of the true, complete lovers. Reaching back, she squeezed his bare feet with her hands. She did not have to reach to squeeze his balls with her buttocks.
He drew up the skirt of her robe, as if unveiling a statue. He murmured, "Boy, you sure do have good-lookin' legs, Mom."
She said, "Thank you, kind sir." And she gracefully lifted her shapely calves in his direction, one after the other, causing each buttock to flex under him in turn. But her legs went flat and the breath sighed out of her when he placed his slippery warm hands high on the backs of her thighs and smoothed them all the way down her legs to her ankles.
Up they came again, and Maude had to both clutch and bite the bedspread to keep from crying out in the shivering, shuddering ecstasy that was hers. Down they went again, until he was clasping the soles of her feet, and then up, transmitting deeply erotic impulses right on up through her cunt and tits to her brain. Over and over he did it, holding her harder with his slipping hands each time, pressing his balls ever closer to her ass-hole. She was panting and so was he, and now she opened her legs even wider, and his greased thumbs came just as close to her oozing, seething cunt as ever they had on other nights in the past. Each time he bent forward to reach her feet, she knew very well he was looking up under the bunched folds of red rayon at the hairy mouth of her cunt, but she didn't tell him to stop it. It was all right. That too was a point of interest for a boy his age, and she liked the feel of his hot gaze there.
"Uhhh, Peter." She simply had to moan it out when his thumbs traced a deep path through the twin smiles that marked the lower borders of her buttocks.
"Yeah, Mom. Yeah," he replied, and touched nerves there that made her helplessly and slowly kick her feet against the bed.
"You better ... turn around. Do my back."
"Yessss," he said, drawing out the word to match the final, long caress he gave her from buttocks to ankles and back again.
Peter turned about in his saddle. That saddle was his mother's robe, all bunched up around her voluptuous ass, around his exposed crotch. She knew how it must feel to him there, all silky and soft and rustling, and how much better it would feel if the robe was absent. Maybe tomorrow night ... but there were still pleasures to be had on this night. Maybe tomorrow night she'd yield to her wicked, secret wishes and turn over on her back for the finale to his massage. But tonight wasn't over with yet. . .
"Baby, do me real hard and deep with your fingers tonight, 'cause I worked so hard for you today," she said, as his hands returned to her back. "Hard and deep. Hard and deep," she urged him, her voice muffled against the bedspread.
"Yeah ... Yeah..." he said, pressing hard with his hands, pressing harder with the length of his prick in the groove of her ass.
"Harder!" she whispered, arching her ass up at his hardness, then pushing her cunt hard against the bed.
His answer was a whimper, and stabbing double grip of her hips.
"Deeper!" she hissed, arching up and down now.
"Oh, Mom!" he moaned, and then there was no pretense at all about it.
His hands whipped down around her to dig under her and close on her big, soft tits, as he fell forward, pelting kisses on her back. Her feet beat the bed in a steady tattoo, as her son began humping her hard in the split valley of her ass, through the thin membrane of the red rayon robe. They moaned and groaned together, fused together by the joint but separate orgasms they were knowing. She felt his hot breath at her ear, his fingers digging good and deep and hard into her tits, and the hot flow of his sperm spurting out to blissfully burn her ass. It lasted and lasted. They squirmed and panted and came together, and then they lay there breathing hard together as they dwelt in the idyllic state that is only known to the true, complete lovers. It was all right. Everything in the whole world was all right. But it could still be improved on the next night.
At last he slowly rose from her. He stood by the bed, panting, the crotch of his pajamas hanging loose. She couldn't move.
"You want another drink, Mom?"
"Huh-uh."
"Want me to throw a blanket over you."
"No. Too warm right now."
"Well, I'm going out for a little while. Okay."
"Mm-hm. Whatever you want, dear. Where to."
"I thought I'd go play a little pool. Okay?"
"All right, darling. Whatever you want is all right with your Momma."
She was asleep before he left the house.
CHAPTER NINE
In the morning, rinsing out her son's pecker tracks from the seat of her red robe, Maude thought things out: The boy was in love with her, or at least, he was very much sexually attracted to her. The peter marks on her robe proved that. If it was love that he felt, it was her job to destroy that love as gently as she could, for he should love her only as a mother as, in a year or two, he began having affairs with girls his age, unrelated to him. Love is a mysterious thing. The best way to destroy it is to take the mystery out of it, and in this case, Maude felt that the mystery revolved around the sexual part of his love. Therefore, by fucking him regularly, by teaching him all she knew about the arts of sex, he would fall out of love for her. And if his attraction to her was strictly sexual, and since she felt so indulgent to her fatherless son, it appeared logical that she give him the sex that he both wanted and obviously needed. Of course it would be a sin to do that, it would be incest, but the real taboo of incest came from a racial fear of passing on an hereditary weakness to an offspring borne of an incestuous affair. Since Maude was modern enough to know all that could be known about birth control, the taboo of incest seemed to be cancelled. Looking at it with Peter's welfare in mind then, the best thing to do would be to end their devious sexual contacts and go all the way with him. Teach him all the positions she knew, invent more with him, suck his yearning young prick and instruct him in how to please a woman by performing cunnilingus for her. It was the logical, modernly correct thing to do. And from her point of view, with her welfare in mind, it would be just glorious to have a resident sex partner in her house, one whom she could put her trust in, one who would fuck her and suck her every day of the week and seven times on Sunday.
She had it all sorted out in her head, then. That night he would be wearing no shorts under his pajamas, and no pajamas either, whether they had a crotch in them or not. He would be as naked as the day he was born, as he climbed upon her to give her his nightly massage. And Maude would not be lying on her stomach for that massage. She would be lying on her back, and smiling up at him so very beautifully that he would forget any foolish notions or fear of incest that he might have.
Maude practiced that smile in the bathroom mirror as she washed out her robe. She practiced it in the rear view mirror of the Chevy as she drove to work. She practiced it in the medicine cabinet mirror at the diner. And she practiced it on her customers, causing quite a few of them to make sly propositions about what they might do together after work, and incidentally, increasing the amount of tips she made that morning.
After the breakfast rush, Maude became very busy. She had to wash dishes, make hamburger patties, frost a pair of cakes with aerosol cans of frosting, fill squeeze bottles with ketchup and mustard, bake pork chops and cook potatoes for the luncheon special, make salads, and still wait on the customers who came in for a snack or a late breakfast. At about ten o'clock two young men came in for breakfast. They looked to be about eighteen. Maude had never seen them before, and they were not the type of trade she liked to cater to. They wore greasy boots, greasy tight jeans, and greasy black leather jackets. One was tall and had greasy blonde hair, the other was short and had greasy black hair. Their hair was long, not stylishly so, but carelessly. They had drooping eyelids and they leered at her as they talked back and forth to each other from the corners of their mouths about the long, tough ride they'd had on their bike, making reference to the hell-raising they'd done along the way. They were hungry, and ordered big breakfasts. Maude decided she should serve them, for they might make trouble if she didn't. She couldn't see their big, chrome-plated motorcycles from her place behind the counter, but she knew that their presence outside her diner would announce to the cruising police that she had some Hell's Angels inside her place of business, and that before she had even fried their eggs, a pair of uniformed policemen would come strolling in for free coffee and donuts.
So she served them. Ham and eggs, hash brown potatoes, toast, marmalade, coffee, and more toast. They might be evil knights of the road, but they were still little more than boys, and she couldn't help feeling a twinge of fondness for them, seeing them shovel down her food like that. They didn't look nearly so menacing with their bellies full, sucking on toothpicks, emitting soft belches. She added up their check. Four dollars thirty-seven, with tax. The short, squatty, dark-haired one looked at it casually and reached for his wallet. The tall, thin one with the blue eyes and the blonde hair that needed washing looked around.
"I'm still a little hungry, and we've got a long way to go today, Freddie," he said. "What about having another cup of coffee and a couple more of those donuts before we hit the old highway?"
"Skip," said the other, "I've had too many donuts lately. But I could go for something sweet."
"I'm frosting a cake in the kitchen," Maude volunteered. "Would you gentlemen care for a piece of that? "
They looked at each other and shrugged. "Sounds good," said the one called Skip, and his friend Freddie pushed the check back at Maude. "Two pieces of cake, nice and thick, please."
Maude returned to the kitchen to put the last touches on the cake before she sliced it. They seemed like good boys after all. Probably not members of some renegade motorcycle gang. The last word she'd heard from them-please-indicated they'd had some upbringing. They might still be home, attending college now, if only their mothers had treated them with the kindness and understanding that she planned on extending to her son later that day. She thought she heard frantic voices outside. Probably her imagination. She sliced the cake extra thick, even though she doubted that these boys would appreciate it enough to increase the size of her tip. She went out through the swinging door with the two laden plates, then dropped them both to the floor behind the counter when she saw that her diner was empty of customers. The dirty plates were there, the check she'd made out was there, but her customers were gone!
Outside, she could hear their voices. "Kick it over, you stupid bastard! I'm tryin'! I'm tryin'! Outta the way and let me do it! Dirty motherfuckin' bastard of a bike! Start, you sombitch, start!"
There was a heavy meat cleaver just inside the kitchen door. Maude took a good grip on it before heading for the front door, ready to do battle for her hard-earned money, no matter what the odds were against her. She was frightened, but more than that, she was furious. Let one pair of drifters skip out on their check, and others would follow. Her profits would disappear, and she'd be unable to send Peter to college. He might wind up as an aimlessly wandering sneak-thief like the pair outside on their big Harley-Davidson, who were at the ready with zip guns and bicycle chains to parry her threat with the meat cleaver.
Maude bounded out of the diner and down the steps, and was again stopped in her tracks. It was a tiny, beat-up Japanese motorbike the two desperadoes were so frantically trying to fire up. Instead of paint, it had a coating of grease and dust and rust, and it shivered like a dog passing razor blades each time Skip, the taller biker, kicked at its little starting pedal. And the Hell's Angels looked more like a pair of bicycle thieves now. An expression of anxious terror was on Skip's face as he jumped up and down on the kick starter, long hair flopping about, loose jeans slipped down to his hips by his frenzied efforts. Freddie stood at his side, wringing his hands, jacket hanging open to reveal his soiled, holey T-shirt, wet with the sweat of his efforts and his terror, clinging to his heaving chest.
"Thieves! Widow-robbers!" Maude shouted, and came at them with the cleaver swinging. Skip squealed like a girl and started to flee, collided with the yelping Freddie, and both sprawled down onto the dusty road, while Maude's cleaver descended to split the gas tank and a part of the motorbike's frame in two. The check-skippers clung to each other, whining and scrambling from her, while she wrapped both hands around the cleaver handle and chopped and hacked the toy motorcycle until it was nothing but a pile of twisted, gasoline-soaked tin and rubber.
She turned to tower over them then, perspiring freely, big bosom heaving, and sneered as she said, "Have you got a match, or are you still too young to smoke."
"H-here, ma'am," said Freddie, and he produced a paper folder of lights from a bulging pocket of his jacket.
They even cringed when she struck the match. She dropped it onto the junk she had manufactured with the cleaver, and while the wreckage she'd created was still flaring brightly, she gestured at them with the wicked but lethal blade of her weapon. "Inside the diner, you two. Move!"
They both helped and hindered each other in scrambling to their feet. Maude whacked Freddie's fat behind with the flat of the cleaver blade to spur him on after his high-stepping companion, up the stairs of the diner, inside to the scene of their crime. She locked the door behind her and used the cleaver as a means of gesturing her message to them as she spoke:
"I don't know how many other poor, defenseless women you two greasy lizards've robbed, but you're not going to rob this one. I don't know how many jails you've been in, but let me tell you that the Ash Creek jail compares very unfavorably to Matt Dillon's television jail. You can go there, right now, or you can work for what you've stolen for me. My rate of pay for widow-robbers is five cents per hour. What'll it be, boys?"
Maude slapped the side of the cleaver against her thigh just one time, and both boys were grabbing at the dishes they'd dirtied and clattering them off into the kitchen. She beat out a slow, dirge-like rhythm with the cleaver against her palm while the two of them crowded at each other at the sink. They hadn't let up in their hectic pace when she'd returned from locking the front door and hanging out the "Closed-Sorry" sign. With curt commands, she had them scour the griddle, mop the duck boards, take out the garbage, and clean the grease traps. It took them a solid hour. They were sweating like pigs when they were through, and they gratefully accepted Maude's offer of a soft drink apiece.
When they'd finished drinking them down, she said, "You both worked hard for an hour and did a fairly good job. You get a dime knocked off your bill for that. The drinks are fifteen cents apiece, so now you owe me four-fifty-seven."
"But, lady..." Skip began, and she silenced him with the cleaver brandished over her head.
"Don't give me any back-talk! I don't have time for it. If the health inspectors came in and saw you pigs working here, they'd close me up for good.
Get through that door, out of your clothes, and into the bathroom for a scrub-down. Move!"
The pair jammed in the doorway to the sleeping room, then burst through it together. She stood in the doorway slapping the cleaver against her leg while they peeled off their filthy clothes, hearing none of their pleas for mercy, nor their entreaties for her to respect the modesty of two hapless wayfarers. When they'd stripped to their ragged, soiled shorts, she said, "Those too."
The boys looked to each other for sympathy, but that was all they got. They tried to hide their private parts from view of their stern-faced but beautiful captor, but they were unsuccessful at this as their tatters were taken from their loins. Maude could see for sure then that they were boys, not men, for they had nothing but little dinguses, and their stingily packed balls had hardly any hair at all. She was successful in not feeling any motherly sympathy for them, or at least successful in not showing it.
"All right, into the bathroom, move lively now."
Shoulders hunched, hands clasped over their dangling peckers and nuts, they herded each other into the cramped quarters. Maude followed. She stood in the doorway and said, "There's plenty of soap and lots of hot water. Use it. No matter how much you use, I'm only charging you a dime apiece for the works."
The water poured forth from the shower head as they began to ablute themselves under her watchful eye. No telling how long since they'd bathed. A shower was harder to steal than a meal. They looked a bit undernourished, so perhaps even stealing hadn't come easy to them lately. Their ribs showed too sharply. Skip's stomach was almost concave, and Freddie's fanny should certainly have been plumper. They looked pale, too, but that might have been because of the clouds of mist through which Maude had to watch them.
They were jostling their glistening nude bodies against each other to get under the hot water in that place designed for one person at the most. They bumped against the sink and toilet as the water showered down, .and as the soap suds thickened. Maude laid aside the cleaver and leaned forward to peer through the mists. She needed no blade for protection against lads little older than her son. Lather made their heads look like they were capped with curly white ringlets. The steamy heat from their shower made her nylon uniform cling damply and hotly to her, and for comfort's sake, she loosened the buttons of its bodice. They were such immature lads that their little pricks remained flaccid, even though a gorgeous woman was looking at them.
At least she thought they were flaccid. They were going so crazy with the soap that it was hard to tell. They were laughing a little too now, almost forgetting the presence of their captor in the good feelings of being clean and fresh again. Probably good boys at heart, Maude thought, as she slipped two more buttons from their holes and reached a hand within her uniform to scratch at an itchy nipple. But for the breaks, they might be in a schoolroom just then instead of in her shower room. Without more good breaks though, they'd soon be in a prison room, possibly in a gas chamber. What they needed was guidance, not incarceration.
Maude opened the rest of her buttons and slipped her uniform off her shoulders. What the hell? If she could see them naked, they could see her in panties and bra. She stepped out of her shoes and into the room with them, to the medicine cabinet wherein was her late husband's whiskey. She tilted up the bottle and let the good, hot whiskey flow into her belly, warm water spraying against her side, two prisoners hushed,by the presence of their warden in the little room with them.
Probably customers waiting. Let 'em wait. More important that she do what she could toward purifying these two scared kids of the sins they'd committed, and of the dirt of the road that they'd accumulated. She dropped the empty bottle in the waste basket, stepped under the water between them, and took a slippery bar of soap from one of their hands.
"Silly boys, you don't even know how to wash your own hair. Hold still, Freddie, and crouch down a little. I'll do it for you."
The dark-haired one looked up at her fearfully, water and lather running down over his boyish features, while she held his head in the crook of her arm and rubbed the soap over his hair. The tall one backed against the wall, wide-eyed, holding his hands over his little pecker. Maude's bra and panties were soaked. They looked transparent, and they felt transparent. Especially with Freddie's cheek pressed against her left breast. She leaned to the left to lather his head, then to the right to rinse it, falling a little against Skip in doing this. To left and right she leaned until all the grease was gone from Freddie's hair, and then she released him and let him stand up, and then he looked so clean and sweet that she had to take his surprised face between her hands and place a nice little motherly kiss on his pink lips.
"Your turn now," she said, turning to the other, and he came quite docilely to crouch down and let her get a headlock on him with her right arm.
She rubbed the soap quite hard into his bedraggled hair. He in turn slipped his arms about her wet, near-naked body. She thought it was he who undid her bra snaps, but then realized it would take two hands for this, and that Freddie must be the more adventurous of the two. She turned to grin and admonish him, but was met by his lips and then his tongue, slipping into her mouth, tasting as clean as she had made his hair. And while she allowed her short prisoner this special privilege, her taller prisoner was taking upon himself the privilege of rolling down her soapy wet panties and slipping his hand inside them even as they began their descent.
Maude broke away from Freddie and said, "Now, boys, you be good. Remember, I can still send you both to the gas chamber. Freddie, a person would think you'd never seen a pair of big old naked titties, the way you're grabbing at them. Skip, get back up here and let me finish washing your hair; I'm quite capable of taking my panties off by myself. Stop it, you hear? Both of you, be good."
Apparently they didn't hear. They didn't stop it, but at least they tried to be good. Freddie succeeded in being pretty good indeed in holding her titties in his hands and covering them with kisses without being drowned by the pouring water. Skip was good in helping her to keep her balance while he got her out of her last garment and remained kneeling on the floor to feel the voluptuousity of her womanly curves with both hands. And Maude was good to each of them in turn. She reserved one hand for Freddie, to stroke his head while he kissed her titties, and-she shook them in his face to provide a more provocative target for his eager lips. Not neglecting Skip, she smoothed her other hand over his head while he knelt and explored around her buttocks and loins with his hands, and she turned her hip and bounced her buttocks before him to titillate him a bit as encouragement for him to be not so timid with his lips.
When Skip kissed the point of her well-padded hip, she turned some more, slowly, and thrust out her pelvis to entice him to kiss the furry wet triangle of her pubic hair. When Freddie's kisses on her breasts had her nipples as hard as they would ever get, she pushed him down on the floor with his friend, there to perhaps set an example for him.
Maude, breathing hard, turned off the water. They were all quite clean enough. The silence was audible then she stood there dripping like a goddess risen from the deep, a hand on the head of each of her two young adventurers, guiding them on. She broke the silence by saying, "Skip, my pussy's as clean as it's ever been, so don't be afraid to kiss it. That's right, darling, you naughty boy, bury your pretty mouth in my fur and look for my clittie-poo with your tongue. My ass's clean too, Freddie, and it's every bit as pretty and it-likes your lips every bit as much as my titties did. Kiss-kiss, my pretty boys. Ahhh ... You can bite me a little, Freddie, but not you, Skip. Not too hard, Freddie dear. Yessss, that's right. Skip, you've almost found the right place with your tongue. Move a little down and to your ... Oh! Oh, yes, that's it! Dear, dear boy! You too, Freddie. I do love to have my ass kissed. Bite it a little. Harder! Oh, angel children! Goddamn, you dirty little sneak thieves, I'll reward you both for his. I'll be good to you if you'll be good to me. Oh! Oh, that is good! Both of you! Both of you are being positive angels! Urrrgggh! I love it, I just love it! Kiss me. Kiss me! URRRRGGGGH!"
Maude's lush body whipped back and forth like some lovely, thick, fleshy rope being shaken as the boys covered her loins with their kisses. She could spread her legs wide for more of Skip's flicking tongue, but she was unable to squat as she wanted to for fear of stooping too low to receive more of Freddie's kisses. So she stood there, legs spraddled whipping back and forth and twisting about under the double shower of kisses, clutching their hair, thrusting her water-slickened ass against Freddie's mouth, pushing her juice-wet cunt against Skip's lips. Neglected, her titties bounced and shook, crying out for attention, but Maude's nether needs were greater, and still they were not completely fulfilled when she at last dragged the boys up by the hair of their heads, just short of fainting from the giddy feelings they'd been so avid to inject into her.
She thought she was in good control of herself, everything being considered, but then when her hands closed about two penises-one slender and long, one thick and short, both hard as rock-she almost succumbed to her hot feelings and became a willing slave to both her hot young captives.
But Maude had learned a little at least from her experience with young Robbie, and so she remained in firm control of the situation as she guided the boys out of the steamy little bathroom and into the sleeping room. And she retained firm hold on each of the hard young cocks in her hands. Then the dripping, panting trio stood by the side of the bed, as Maude spoke:
"Don't think for a minute that I need these hard things I have in my hands more than you need what I have. Don't forget I can still send you to jail. You two are hard on the outside and weak on the inside. I'm just the opposite. Do you want to get our outsides together? Do you want to feel your hardnesses against my softnesses?"
They both affirmed this with vigorous nods of their heads and with close crowdings that Maude had to elbow aside, lest she show the softness she felt inside her.
"So you want to fuck me, do you? Well, that's fine with me. I like it as much as you do, and probably enjoy it even more. But I don't need it like you do. What I need is work from you two. I've got a cock at home that keeps me happy. It belongs to my old man, and it's plenty long. Two of yours couldn't make one of his," she lied, for even when he was alive, Walter hadn't been that well endowed. "So you can fuck me when you feel like it, but it can't interfere with your work, and it'll cost you. Fifteen cents for a fuck, and fifteen for a taste of my pussy. Anybody care to add to their bill now?" she asked, expertly using just the right amount of pressure in massaging the two lovely hard boy dicks in her hand, fighting to remain the imperiously lovely jailor for the two boys who crowded around her.
"So let's fuck! Let's do it! Now!" said Skip.
"Fifteen cents, that's a lot better deal than the strawberry sodas!" Freddie bubbled. "Count me in!"
"Well, I can't take you on both at once," she said, quite at a loss as to which of the two hard peckers was the more alluring, the long, thin one or the short, fat one. Both were circumcised, both had the consistency of hot steel, and both were already oozing pre-cum at their tips in longing for her more copiously oozing pussy. Best of all, both were at hand, very much so.
They were clamoring for her, jumping up and down in their eagerness, and by so doing, running the risk of a pair of ejaculations so premature that they would occur in her hands. "Easy, boys. Easy," she said. "I'll see what I can do about taking you both on at once. Skipper, lie down on the bed. On your back."
He obeyed her of course. He lay there grinning hopefully at her, his prick throbbing visibly as it stood straight up from his furry loins like a long pink candle. She brushed away Freddie's groping hands, telling him to wait his turn, fearing she'd succumb to his touches before this lovely experiment was completed, and she climbed onto the bed with Skip.
She straddled his thighs. With utmost care, forcing herself to believe that she felt none of the delicious feelings of being penetrated, she fitted the head of his prick into her cunt and sank slowly down on it. As she did, she sprinkled heavy curses into her warnings to him not to cum, and she was thus able to rise from him with both in a state of hot eagerness, and with his prick liberally anointed with her slippery cuntal juices. She sat down again, more slowly still, this time with the head of his prick placed at the puckered mouth of her anus. She was facing his feet, bent over. She had to straighten up, teeth gritted against the mildly pleasant pain and the sharply pleasant pleasures, to afford the best access of that long prick of his into her tight ass-hole. When it was all the way in her, when her fat buttocks were settled nicely against his lean flanks, she leaned back on him with a deep, slow sigh until she was rested on her back with him as a living cushion under her, and her open cunt was there on top, waiting to be filled.
"Climb up and fuck me now, Freddie." Maude spoke with difficulty, for she was already on the edge of a climax. "You know how to fuck, don't you? Then get up here and do it. My, you do have a fat dick! It's as big around as my husband's, but not nearly so long. Skip, yours is just about as long, but it isn't so ... Easy, Freddie! That's not my hole! Ah, but that is. Slide it in, stick it in, push it in, jam it in, oh SHIT! OH JESUS, I'M CUMMING! YAAAAGGGGH! Cum, cum, CUMMINGGGGG! Fuck me, you dirty sneak thieves, fuck me! Slam it to me, fuck it to me, sock it to me, FUCK MEEEE! Both of you at once. Oh, this's too good to be true! But it's better for you than for me. Oh, migawd! Too much, too fucking much! Now, cum! Both of you at once! Cum with me, I say, or I'll see you both hanged! That's it. That's IT! This's what I need, this's just the fucking I've always needed!"
All these shouted words while Freddie humped furiously at Maude from above, further adding to her pleasure derived from Skip below her. Freddie's short, fat, stubby prick gave her all the friction she needed, and the slender rod of Skip's prick, deeply imbedded in her ass, further tightened her cunt and thrilled her more deeply. Only a thin membrane of highly sensitive flesh separated the two cocks. Freddie was doing the work, but it was he who was the energetic one, and his efforts were being greatly enjoyed by all. Maude could feel it most distinctly when he began to shoot his streams of hot lava into her gushing cunt, just as she could feel the sexy, hot enema of Skip's ejaculation into her rear. Panting and sweating, gasping and heaving, Maude lay there as the filling for a sandwich made of two fine young boys, and the orgasms she felt were more than she'd ever known in her life. Many times before, she'd thought she was being transported to heaven on the end of a missile that was a hard prick, and here were two of them into her, more than capable of sending her well past heaven, and doing just that very thing!
Her gratitude, when they were all done, was endless, but it was also unspoken. If they knew how much they'd thrilled her, even when they pulled their dripping cocks out of her dripping holes, they would have been in charge, not her. As it was, Maude's wits were about her when she rose from the bed. She wanted to stay with them until all three had fucked themselves half to death, but she presented the appearance of the tough but benign jailor as she looked down at the spent and grinning boys.
"That's four-eighty-seven you owe me now, and if there's any complaints, off you go to jail--. Well?"
"Let's make it an even five bucks," said Skip.
"Right on," said Freddie. "When's lunch?"
"I'll make you some hamburgers," Maude said. "But you're going to do the dishes."
Happy as a clam, she went to feed her young charges. Going out, prepared to fry up their early lunch in the nude, she stumbled over their discarded clothes. Filthy rags was all they were, hardly fit for the garbage can. Better off there, really, for without clothes, how could they ever leave her? She started to throw them away, then stopped to empty out their pockets. From the jacket pocket of Freddie's clothes came a plastic bag which she knew from reading the newspapers did not contain oregano. Into the garbage went the clothes, but back to the sleeping youths went Maude, there to confront the lolling boys with the incriminating evidence.
"I'm really ashamed of you. You're dope fiends as well as widow robbers. I ought to turn you in right now, before you hook other young people on drugs."
"That's not drugs, it's just grass," said Skip.
"Marijuana," Freddie added.
"I know very well what it is and I know very well how it leads straight to heroin addiction. I'm throwing it out. Right now!"
"Suit yourself," said Freddie. "We don't need it. All we need is a couple of burgers."
"Well, I'm glad you're not addicts yet," said Maude.
"Addicts?" said Skip. "On grass? Shit, we just use it to stoke up the chicks we pick up and get us all ready to ball."
"Is it good for that?" Maude asked, and took another look at the plastic bag, and its contents.
CHAPTER TEN
As soon as Maude got home that night, Peter asked her, "Want me to rub your back now?"
"It's not really very sore tonight, dear," she replied. "I don't think it'll be necessary."
He said, "Great. I'm glad it's not bothering you any more. I finished my homework. Okay if I go over to Reverend Horton's? That's really a nifty pool table he's got. I'll get a hamburger on the way, so you won't have to fix dinner."
All afternoon Maude had been worried about how to gently dissuade her son from his collision course with incest. Now, good boy that he was, he had turned away from disaster on his own. She owed Reverend Horton a debt of gratitude, which she would pay at her earliest opportunity. She sat down with a drink, feeling greatly relieved. By the time she finished the drink, she was feeling very horny, and with nothing to hold her at home that evening, she decided to return to the diner to take full advantage of the good employer-employee relationship she had with Skip and Freddie.
She found the boys lying on the bed, naked, beautiful, puffing on a strange-smelling cigarette. When asked if it was marijuana, they said indeed it was, and they offered to share their smoke with Maude. She sat between them on the bed. They held the reefer to her lips, leaving her hands free to rove over their fine young bodies and fondly squeeze their pricks to hardness. The marijuana made Maude feel a bit dizzy. Their hands on her body made her feel even more so. This was real luxury. A handsome prick and balls for each of her hands, the smoke making her feel higher and higher, and two boys to admire her womanly charms as they unveiled them.
They unbuttoned her dress and laid it back, and Maude leaned forward for Freddie to unsnap her brassiere. Skip pulled the cups off her big, creamy-smooth tits, and she smiled down at his long fingers playing over her flesh, feeling the weight of her breasts, and plucking sweetly at her nipples. Freddie began kissing her there first, sending hot tingles of excitement through her, and before long, Skip had joined his friend at the bounty of Maude's lovely bosom. The marijuana was forgotten then as she cradled a head in each of her arms and her two indentured servants sucked and smacked to their heart's content.
Their hands were stealing down toward her crotch, one hand inside her panties, the other gliding over the silken texture of her only garment and feeling along the long, smooth indentation that ran along the inside of Maude's thigh. She opened her legs wide as the sucking, kissing boys explored about the wet warmth of her crotch. Both boys were clasping one of her legs between theirs. Freddie's hard prick was nestled against her right calf, while taller Skip's genitals were being pressed against her wriggling left toes. Freddie's finger had found the sensitive button of her clitoris, and Skip's fingers were moving inside the crotch band of her panties to feel of the plumpness of her labia. They were still sucking her tits. Never in her life had Maude felt so appreciated, so loved.
"You boys're wonderful. Just wonderful," she said, and sat up to reach for their pricks. Perhaps it was the marijuana working in her, but those two pricks looked like they were exquisitely made sculptures, crafted by a master. Freddie and Skip tugged her panties down over the big swells of her bottom as Maude went up on her knees and bent closer to the two lovely objects in her hands. The boys squeezed and pinched her ass and tickled deep in the groove of it as she placed a loving kiss first on one ruddy red cockhead, then on the other. She smacked her lips, for the taste of them was absolutely delicious. Hovering over each one in turn, she breathed very deeply, inhaling the musky, manly scent of the two naked lads. Each prick had its own kind of beauty, and it was impossible to decide which was the more attractive. She pulled them closer together, made the two red heads touch, and then smeared her wetted lips back and forth across the touching tops of the pricks. By yawning her mouth wide, she was able to get both prick heads into it at the same time, crouching on her knees and elbows, not knowing whose hands were where on her body, but greatly enjoying them. They played with her heavily dangling breasts, slipped fingers inside the wet and hairy mouth of her cunt, played about in the juicy furrow of her vulva, poked within her ass-hole, and smoothed over the lush curves of her body. She sucked their cocks lovingly, with great gratitude, until she realized they were the ones who should be grateful to her.
Maude got to her knees and hauled down her panties. She stood up on the bed and faced them, stripped herself as naked as they were, and placed her fists on her hips. Her tits rose and fell heavily with her breathing. She felt like a giant, towering over them. She was so hot that her pussy was overflowing, sending a trickle of hot scented butter down her inner thigh. She longed to drop down on the pricks pointing up at her, but she knew that if she yielded to that desire, she stood a very good chance of losing her authority over these boys, just as she had with Robbie.
Her hands slid down over her hips, her fingers went through the hairy triangle at her loins, and she spread wide the juicy pink lips of her cunt. She moved her fingers very sensually over the convoluted portals of her pussy and swiveled slowly at the waist to afford each of them a clear view of what she had to offer.
She said, "Who wants to kiss it first? I'll only charge you a nickel. It's the best bargain in the house, and it's the nicest dessert you'll ever taste. Come on, boys. Don't be bashful. Come and get it."
They appeared to be hypnotized, or at least wholly fascinated, by Maude's beautiful, towering body. They crouched before her, grasping her calves, kissing her knees, while she smiled down on them and coaxed them on with her cooing words and with her fingers spreading out the silken wet tissues of her cunt. Their kisses ascended up her legs as they laid hands on her thighs. She took a wider stance with her feet, and slowly thrust out her pussy. They reached it simultaneously. Both boys kissed hotly in the crevices of her groins, and then, cheek to cheek, they managed to taste of the rich juices of her cunt at the same time. She smiled down past her big tits at them, tousling their hair, thrilled at the touch of two tongues in her cunt, and almost equally thrilled at being in such complete command of her horny young employees.
But the kisses were sucking the strength out of her legs. Her knees began to buckle, and she had to rest more of her weight on their head with her hands. A stab of a tongue against her clitoris then brought forth a sharp, ecstatic outcry, and for several long and wonderful seconds, Maude stood there with her body jerking and twitching and cumming, with her tits and the ass-cheeks jouncing and quivering, and with a grin of triumph twisting her lovely features.
She subsided on the bed and spread out there on her back. She let each of them fuck her in turn. She just lay back and accepted their rapid humping, not even moving to help them. They didn't complain. How could they complain about their beautiful naked mistress who allowed them to partake of her beauty and her body? It was a marvelous arrangement for the boys, and it wasn't a bad deal for Maude, either.
Over the next few weeks, the bill that the boys owed slowly mounted. Maude never really expected to collect it, but she took pleasure in tallying it up every day and noting with pride that they were spending more on her womanly charms than they were earning with their labor. No one knew that she kept two naked boys in the rooms behind the dining room. By day they kept the kitchen neat and clean and did some of the cooking. The burden of work they took from Maude was such that she had a great deal of energy left to spend each night when she left the house. She had told her son she was 'checking the books,' although of course her evenings were spent getting high on marijuana and getting all the cum she could from the two hard little boy cocks that were at her disposal. They complained, from time to time, about their lack of clothes and their confinement, but their complaints were mild, and Maude was able to silence them with her body or with some special treat she whipped up for them in the kitchen. She hoped their arrangement would go on forever, though she knew it couldn't last that long. It went buzzing along merrily enough until the marijuana ran out.
"We've gotta get some more shit," said Skip.
"We don't need it," said Maude. "We have each other."
"You might not need it," Freddie said. "But Skip and me would go nuts being cooped up here if we weren't stoned all the time. Get us some clothes, give us some bread, and we'll go out and make a score."
Maude balked at this. She didn't at all like the idea of providing the means for her work staff and her love life to depart. The boys, on the other hand, insisted that they'd depart in the nude if she didn't help them get some grass.
"You can buy some from just about any long-haired freak," Skip told her.
"Hell, you can probably buy some from your son," Freddie said.
"Peter would never smoke marijuana! And I'd certainly never ask him if he did."
"Well, you better score with some, and quick, if you want me and Freddie to hang around any longer."
Maude worried about her procurement problem all day long. The boys in the back room were grouchy and irritable, to add to her problem. She tried to distract them from their mood with fond caresses and the offering of her body without adding anything to their bill. They each took her up on it and fucked her, but it was clear that their hearts were not in it. There was little joy in it for them, and Maude was so preoccupied with the idea of losing them that she couldn't even reach an orgasm, and she had to simulate her peaks. She was seriously thinking about asking Peter if he knew where some grass might be obtained. She could tell him she was asking out of curiosity, and he might believe her. And then, just before closing time, a battered old VW bus, spray-painted with peace symbols and slogans, parked in front of the diner. From it emerged a couple which seemed to fit the description implied by the word, freaks.
The male was in his early twenties, though his full beard and long hair made him look older. His hair and beard were brown, neatly combed, but still somehow looked very wild. His nose was sunburned a bright red, his mouth had an eerie half smile on it, and his eyeballs appeared to be a bit too large for their sockets. He was wearing an olive drab overcoat, arrny issue, several sizes too large for him, with an uneven row of medals pinned to its left breast and chevrons and patches running up and down both sleeves. The girl at his side was as tiny as a sparrow and her movements were just as quick and nervous as those of that little bird. She had yellow hair, in long braids, reaching almost to her waist. She had very large, very blue eyes, which constantly roved about, and long silky eyelashes which waved rapidly over them. Her nose was a tiny button, her pursed, bright red lips those of a painted doll. She had on a Notre Dame T-shirt whose sleeves came down to her elbows and whose hem reached down to mid-thigh. Her brown suede boots came up to her knees. It seemed to Maude that she wasn't wearing anything at all under the T-shirt. The nipples of her diminutive titties poked out at the thin fabric, and a faint triangle of darkness could be seen just below the school emblem. She was carrying a transistorized radio close to her ear, and snapping her fingers and jerking her hips in time to its music. When they sat down and ordered hot chocolate and brownies, Maude could easily detect the reek of marijuana about them. It seemed to her that they'd been sent from heaven.
As Maude prepared their hot drink, she steeled herself to broach the subject with them. For all she knew, they might be narcotics agents. She could go to jail if they were. But was being jailed any worse than losing her two young lovers and their two perpetually stiff pricks? Maude set their cups before them, cleared her throat, and said, "Would you two happen to know where I might purchase some shit? Just grass, nothing heavy."
"Who, us? Ooo, not us!" said the girl, batting her eyelashes furiously, and clutching her companion's arm.
He, however, smiled more broadly. He licked his lips as he lowered his gaze to Maude's big tits, and when he got up to lean over the counter and look down at her crotch, his tongue came out and flipped rapidly up and down in a manner which made Maude's loins tingle. He sat back and said, "Nope. No grass. But we've got something better than that. Hash! It's out in the van with Roger. Suitcase Dolly, you sit here and talk with the nice lady while I go get it. Then we'll all three smoke up a storm and ball up a storm and eat up every goddamned thing in the joint."
Maude patted her hair, enjoying the boy's patently lascivious staring at her tits, and said, "By all means, bring Roger in. Doesn't he smoke?"
"Too young," the young man explained. "But he balls and he eats, and so do I. Petie the Honker, at your service," he said, and took Maude's hand and guided it to his lips. He touched his lips to the back of it, turned it over and squashed his tongue in its palm, then licked quickly between each of its fingers. When he released it, he reached forward and gave her left breast two hard squeezes, saying as he did, "Honk! Honk!"
Maude was left in a lovely pink haze as he slammed out the door. Not only had she scored some hashish, a far more powerful narcotic than grass, from what she'd heard tell of it, but she had Petie and his friend Roger for a pair of new playmates for herself, and the cunning little Suitcase Dolly as a bonus for her two faithful employees. Everything was indeed working out just fine, she thought, as the tiny blonde told her of the origin of her nickname, something about how a former boy friend had sneaked her into hotels and onto trains hidden in a suitcase. Maude listened politely, almost envying Skip and Freddie for the time they'd soon be having with this adorable little girl. Let them suck on those dainty little titties and stick their peckers into that small, cunningly turned body. Let them have a real ball with Suitcase Dolly. They deserved a bonus such as that, and Maude deserved the double-dick bonus of Petie and Roger. Maude's pussy seemed to be licking its lips in anticipation when Petie came back, with a big, brown and white St. Bernard at his side.
"That's Roger?" said Maude.
Petie scratched behind the ears of the shaggy, tongue-lolling dog, and said, "In living color. He doesn't dig staying in the van by himself. He-likes to hang around and sniff when we get stoned. Speaking of that, here's the hash."
He handed Maude a matchbox. She sighed and took it, and asked him to hang out the Closed sign and lock the front door. The dog's hairy tail was rough against her bare legs as she showed them the way into the kitchen, and Petie's hands were slow in restoring the excitement that she'd lost upon the sight of that dog. Freddie and Skip were, of course, delighted to meet Maude's gift bearing guests, especially Suitcase Dolly. With their pricks rapidly rising, they crowded close to her in the kitchen, grinning and reaching for her a bit uncertainly. Petie's hands were more sure of themselves, one smoothing over the big, nylon-covered hills of Maude's backside, the other honking happily at her bosoms. He told her to reach in his coat pocket for a pipe and to fill it with some of the cut pieces of hash in the matchbox. She examined and smelled the grainy brown substance in the box while Petie deftly opened the buttons of her uniform, and while Skip and Freddie plucked at little Dolly's T-shirt, and at the goodies contained therein.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
"Don't," Dolly said, pushing ineffectually at their hands. "Gollies, I hardly even know you. And you quit it too," she said, slapping behind her at the muzzle of the dog, sniffing closely at her ass.
Maude found the pipe in Petie's pocket. Reaching deeper, she found a stiff seven inches of cock, and this she squeezed fondly before opening his coat for him. While she helped him off with his coat, he took charge of the removal of Maude's brassiere. He'd been wearing nothing under, the coat. Now the only garments being worn in the room were Dolly's boots and the T-shirt she was trying to protect. Skip and Freddie's graspings at her titties clearly showed that she had no bra on under it, and the dog's nose nuzzlings had several times lifted the hem of the T-shirt high enough to expose the lower halves of her cutely rounded buttocks.
Dolly was tittering and admonishing as she headed into the bedroom, flanked by the boys, closely followed by Roger. Carrying the hash and the pipe, holding onto Petie's good, stiff prick, Maude led him after the trio as he happily honked her, front and rear. They stood in a circle and there was a lot of excited hand-rubbing as Petie got the pipe lit. The little thing in the T-shirt looked like an undeveloped child in comparison to Maude's robustly matured body. Maude was more interested in looking at the three stiff pricks in the center of the circle than she was at the girl, still smiling and batting her eyelids as she fended off the hands of Freddie and Skip and the nose of the big dog.
Maude was given the first hit off the pipe. It was strong and hot, but she held it in her lungs. As the pipe was passed on, she went to her knees for a closer inspection of Petie's prick. It was uncircumcised and upward-curving. It had a lovely taste to it, and its texture was most pleasing to the tongue. She fondled the pricks and balls of Freddie and Skip while she demonstrated her tongue action to Petie, then out of curiosity, lifted the front of Dolly's T-shirt. She was old enough to have pubic hair, but there wasn't very much of it. She didn't have a tenth of the thick fur at Maude's loins, and her cunt showed as a prim little slit through it, as if it had never accepted anything more than a finger or two. The pipe was held before Maude's eyes and she rose to her feet, feeling quite stoned already.
Skip and Freddie were still pawing at Suitcase Dolly. She was such an adorable little thing that you couldn't blame them. They hardly seemed to notice when Maude handled their jutting pricks, but Petie noticed, and responded with more of his honkings.
The last puff on the pipe was given to the little girl. She filled her lungs deeply, then languidly smiled and stretched her arms over her head. "Don't. I hardly know you," she cooed, as Freddie and Skip at last succeeded in lifting her T-shirt up to her waist. She protested again, but she didn't try to stop them, as they pulled it up over her head. She shook out her braids and stood there, her body arched with arms still overhead, looking almost boyish with her breasts flattened, the rosebud nipples sticking out, belly button stretched, face turned up so she couldn't see the hot hands moving over her, or the two hot pricks rubbing against her body. She reminded Maude of an Olympic swimmer, poised for her dive, though the boots on her feet added a surrealistic touch to this. In any event, she was almost too youthfully beautiful for words. Maude had to touch her skin, smooth as a baby's, but tautly stretched, and pulsing with living warmth. Maude had to run her fingertips over the curve of the girl's hip, wondering if that hip would ever be as big and sweeping as her own. She was compelled to give Dolly a sharp pinch there, whereupon the girl wrinkled her little nose and stuck out her pink tongue at Maude as they all five stood in the hot little circle.
Then Dolly gave a jump and a curse. "Goddamn you, Roger, quit goosing me with your damned wet nose. Get out of here. Come on. I'm taking you in the other room."
All four watched as the little girl with the pair of perfectly round buns led the shaggy dog with the big balls out of the room. When she was gone, Maude slipped her arms about the necks of the three youths and drew them to her, wallowing in the pleasure of feeling three hard pricks pressing in about her loins, and three tongues seeking her open mouth. She pushed her big tits against their chests and dug her nails into their backs, while six hands tried to cover all her erogenous zones at once. Maude was a whole lot higher than the hash could have made her.
"Hey, look what I found." It was Dolly's voice. She'd reentered the room unnoticed and laid down on her back on the bed. Her little breasts had more definition to them as she lay there. Her knees were up and out, her slit a deeper shade of pink than the rest of her blushing crotch. Her smile was just as insolently impish as she lay there shaking a can of aerosol whipped cream.
She squirted a dab between her legs, then quickly closed them and rolled around giggling on the bed. All eyes were on her when she opened her legs again and, softly tittering, carefully covered her cunt with a long mound of whipped cream.
With her hands on her knees, she spread her legs wider, and she asked, "Does anybody want some dessert?"
Skip and Freddie almost banged their heads together in diving at her. Freddie got there first, to bury his face in the sweet cream and dig with his tongue while little Dolly held his head in both her hands. Skip waited beside the bed, his long prick throbbing visibly. She took pity on him and squirted a dab of cream on each of her nipples, then took Freddie firmly by the ears as Skip fell to his knees for his share of the dessert.
"Hey, look what I found," Petie said, and Maude was distracted from the scene on the bed.
He'd found an aerosol can of chocolate icing in the kitchen and made a brown stripe down the length of his cock with it. Maude quickly licked it off. She took the can from his hand and squirted rings around her nipples, then returned to watching the show on the bed while Petie gobbled up the sweet brown icing.
Dolly's little body was rocking back and forth, the heels of her boots planted solidly on the bed, her grip on Freddie's head very firm. Her delicately sweet features were twisted into a mask of lust, and now she began bucking her hips like a bronco and grunting like a pig. Skip went back on his haunches to watch as she bumped her cunt up hard against Freddie's face, crying out, "Uh! Uh! Uh! Suck it, eat it. Honey baby, make me cum! Oh, shit! Oh, wowww...."
She let go of Freddie and he fell back, panting, from her cunt. There wasn't a trace of whipped cream on it now, and its rosy blush had spread halfway down to her knees and almost up to her belly button. Still sighing, she reached for the can. Skip was there to hand it to her, and he stood panting and swallowing while she again covered her crotch with the thick white goo. "Ahhhh," she sighed, as she clasped his face to her crotch.
By then Petie had licked up all the chocolate from Maude's tits. She drew swirls on her softly bulging belly leading toward her cunt, and he followed the swirls with his tongue while Maude watched long, blonde Skip busy lapping up cream. He was making sure he got every bit of it, and it was Dolly who was purring like a cat. She raised an arm and filled that armpit with more of the stuff, and Freddie was there to lap that up. Now Petie was licking close to Maude's cunt. She was about to he down beside little Dolly and enjoy a good cunt-lapping when something warm and wet and long, lapping up between her legs from behind, almost caused her to lose control of her bladder.
She turned and there was the dog. She felt for a moment that she'd throw up as she wiped his saliva from her ass-cheeks and the groove between them, while he sat there with his tongue hanging out and a look of vast pleading in his bloodshot eyes.
"Uh! Uh! Uh!" If Maude was temporarily out of the mood for a cum, Dolly was not. One boot heel was in Skip's back and she was holding tightly to his ears as she bucked and grunted and came, even harder than before. It was so hard that Maude could almost feel it herself, until with a final spasmodic shudder, Dolly pushed Skip away and rolled over on her belly, panting hard.
Her legs were open, her saucy little buttocks sticking up. Between them, Maude could just see the puckered tan orifice of her ass-hole. She stepped away from Petie and made the girl flinch a bit by parting her buttocks, and then she placed a rosette of chocolate icing directly on her anus. It oozed upward when she stepped back, releasing the buttocks to close.
Maude ruffled Freddie's hair. "You feel like seconds on dessert, dear?"
"Goddamn," he murmured, staring.
"She looks good enough to eat all over. If I were a man I'd...."
Freddie moved forward and started licking up the chocolate. Dolly whistled a sigh through her teeth and clutched at the bedspread and opened her legs farther. He got up on his knees behind her on the bed and made no bones about licking deeply into her ass-hole, and she looked back at him over her shoulder, mouth open, eyes glazed. "Don't," she said, but she didn't move when he got up and pointed his prick between her ass-cheeks.
"Shut up," he told her, and lay down with his loins atop her buttocks.
She laid her cheek on the bed, bit her lip, and was silent. She frowned from time to time as he squirmed about on her buttocks, and then a grimace of either pain or pleasure creased her pretty face as he sighed and began to move on her.
"Goddamn," she panted. "Right in my ass-hole. Right in it!"
"Yeah! Do you dig it?" Petie asked, drawing Maude closer.
"I think ... I do," Dolly gasped, just as Roger the dog swiped his tongue up between Maude's legs again.
No sense even trying to wipe it dry there. Her cunt was too wet, and the big dog would just do it again. Maude brushed behind her at the dog's muzzle while she avidly watched the scene on the bed, wishing she were a part of it, yet greatly enjoying Dolly as its star performer. The dog kept licking her there every few seconds, making her legs get weaker and shakier. Holding onto Petie's hard prick, breathing faster, Maude watched on as Freddie rolled himself and the tiny blonde over.
His hands were covering her titties. She groaned and kicked at empty air with her booted feet while he got her on top of him, with that short, fat prick of his still deeply imbedded in her anus. Her cunt, still blushing pink from the double licking it had received, was an open invitation now between her flailing legs. Skip accepted that invitation with alacrity.
Freddie's ass was on the edge of the bed, his feet on the floor. The moaning, gasping girl was on her back on top of him. Skip knelt down and fitted the head of his long prick against the tight wet crack of Dolly's little cunt, and she threw back her head and clutched at his sides when he shoved it in her, all the way.
Skip fucked her hard. She rocked back and forth on Freddie's body, grunting and squealing and cumming. Skip had deep handholds on her hips, pulling her forward to meet his lunges, while under her, Freddie kept hold of her so that his prick was not dislodged from its place. Skip grimaced and began to cum, and Freddie joined him. Between them, the girl was doing some cumming of her own. Skip's long prick was going all the way inside her, undoubtedly touching places that had never been touched before. She was howling, rocking her head from side to side, while two pricks and four hands joined on her little body. And as Skip and Freddie subsided from their orgasmic peaks, Maude pulled Petie forward with the handle of his prick, stroked it fast, and directed a spurting stream of his cum onto the upturned face of Suitcase Dolly. Her eyes were squinted shut, her mouth open, lips drawn back in a grimace. The thick, ropey fluid clung to her lashes and drooled over her teeth. She licked her lips, a beatific expression came over her lovely features, and she sighed and became still.
Skip pulled his cummy dick out of her and Freddie rolled her off him and onto her stomach. Petie sighed with heavy contentment and said, "That was far out. What say we go fry up some burgers?"
Roger cold-nosed Maude again as the trio of naked youths left her alone with the girl, already softly snoring. Maude glared down at her, now jealous of all the sex Dolly had had, enough to sate her and the three boys, while Maude was as frustrated as she'd ever been in her life. She stood there panting, listening to Dolly's snores and the kitchen clatter of the boys, feeling Roger's tongue washing warmly at her flanks. She reached down and scratched the furry ears of the immense dog, smiled and said, "You big sonofabitch, at least you didn't leave me."
CHAPTER TWELVE
The girl was asleep, the three boys happily busy in the next room. No one would ever know if Maude bent at the waist to offer her ass and her cunt to the dog's tongue, so that was what she did.
"Ahhhh." Hands on her knees, tits swinging, she rocked back and forth in tempo with the long, warm swishings of his tongue. Quite obviously, she tasted delicious to him, and his tongue felt more than delicious to her. She stuck her ass out farther, squatted lower, assuming the position of a football lineman with elbows on knees. Now she could see as well as feel the administrations of that noble animal's tongue, and the sight of it added still more to her pleasures. It was almost exactly the same color as that pink slit cleaving through her sodden pubic hair, and its clinging dexterity was a beautiful thing to behold as it caressed her. Beyond it, the tip of the dog's penis stood out of his shaggy foreskin like a red hot poker, and the sight of that made Maude feel queasy.
Soon the big dog would try to mount her. Any minute now the taste of her hot cunt would excite him to the point where he'd attack her, and if she resisted, he'd grow vicious. She'd have to call for help, once he tired of licking her cunt in this wonderful, wonderful way, or the dog would tear her apart. She would make the dog quit licking her steaming pussy any minute now. It wouldn't do to have the others see her like this. If they returned in answer to her cries for help, when the dog was trying to stick her with that bright red prick of his, she wouldn't feel badly at all, but if they came in and saw her like this, sticking her cunt out for a damned dog to lick it, she'd be terribly ashamed.
She wriggled her ass and opened her legs wider, trying to get the most out of it before she made him quit his slurpings. She was having nice little orgasmic tingles, but the big cum that Dolly had had was eluding her. Just a little more, then she'd end it, and no one would ever know she'd had sex with an animal. But who would know anyway? Just four young drifters, whom no one would ever believe. They were so crazed with dope that they probably wouldn't remember seeing it anyway.
Maude's legs were too shaky to go on supporting her. She got down on her hands and knees, panting hard, her cunt a hungry red gash sticking out from behind. She reached back between her legs, clutched at the hair of his belly, saying, "Come on, Roger. Nice doggy. Here, boy."
He was big and clumsy and heavy, but even his weight on her felt good, and she hardly felt the scratchings of his claws as he encircled her waist with his forepaws. She did feel his penis, as hard but not quite as hot as a poker, jabbing and stabbing at her exposed vulnerability, plunging into her cunt, sticking into her ass, prodding and poking at her buttocks. His stabs were hard and strong and those that struck home at the bull's eye of her cunt made Maude feel as if she was swelling to bursting, for his penis was very tapered, and its insertion spread the portals of Maude's cunt widely. She was cumming now, not as hard as young Dolly had, not as hard as she wanted to cum, but more than she had for a long time. Still it wasn't enough. Why should she settle for that when she knew very well she could blow every circuit in her body with one great orgasm? She reached back and got the dog's hairy balls in her hand, and had to squeeze them very hard before he'd quit screwing her long enough for her to turn over on her back.
It was better with her arms and legs around him as he humped her. Better because his prick was in her cunt all the time now, and because of the way his muscular, hairy, inhuman body chafed against her tits and between her legs, while he growler, happily at her ear. Each stabbing, swelling insertion of his prick expanded the feelings in her. It wasn't long at all until Maude knew she had surpassed. whatever it was that Dolly had felt from the three boys. She had almost succeeded in blowing her mind completely, and she knew that all she needed to achieve that was to call in the three boys and have them bear witness to her shame. But she was cumming too hard to be coherent, and her teeth were fastened in the fur of his throat, and then quite abruptly the dog stopped fucking her and it was too late to reach that insane pinnacle of pleasure. She'd known more than ever she had in the past, and it left her so weak that she could only sprawl spread-eagled as the dog walked away and curled up to lick her cuntal juices from his relaxing prick. Maude felt horribly, marvelously defiled, but before she could fully enjoy this sensual pleasure of utter degradation and utter relief, she had dropped off to sleep like Dolly.
When Maude awoke, she was alone in the diner. She was lying on the floor, body all sticky and itchy with dog hairs, cunt all swollen and sticky with dog cum. She got up and looked around, and found that Fred and Skip had gone, along with Suitcase Dolly and Petie the Honker, and Roger, and a lot of food, and all the money that had been in the cash register. Maude was alone, and they hadn't even left her the money to pay their bill, which amounted to over twelve dollars by then. Maude was keenly disappointed in them, she was furious at them for having robbed her, and she felt very sexually frustrated. If they'd gotten together to fuck her as Dolly had been fucked, she'd have given them some money and her good wishes for their departure, but it wasn't right at all to fuck her into unconsciousness with the dog and then leave her lying there while they robbed her. And it certainly wasn't right for her to have the horrible itch in her pussy that she had.
Nothing would quench it. A warm shower, a cold wash cloth, a hairbrush handle, two rapidly moving fingers, and still her cunt burned with a hunger that would, in time, drive her mad. She sat down and ignored it as best she could as she tried to think of a way to put out the fires between her legs. No matter in what direction she turned her thoughts, they kept returning to what had to be the only solution for Maude's insatiable cunt.
Her son's penis had to be the only one which would satisfy her. Ever since the death of her husband, she had been flirting with incest, dancing close to her son's penis, then flitting away to experience some other more dreadful but less satisfying sexual experience. Promiscuity, statutory rape, fellatio, sodomy, and now bestiality-she had entered into each of those perversions as a substitute for the incest that her body really craved, and there was no telling what further perversions she would engage in if she continued to evade what it was she really wanted. And so Maude had a choice. She could leave Peter alone and lily-white, and by so doing, eventually destroy herself; or she could go home and fuck him, have a ball with his naked body, and save herself at the expense of giving her boy a larger pleasure than most boys ever know in their whole lives. The choice seemed very clear, and Maude was smiling serenely as she rose and donned her uniform dress.
No need for any underwear. Just the thin white nylon dress and her flat shoes. Without underwear, it made fingering herself quite easy as she drove, and the diddling of her pussy kept her feeling so very pleasant that she couldn't even think of changing her mind. She would go home and fuck her son, and that would be that. It might be the only time she fucked him, or she might never again let him take his prick out of her, but in either case, she was going to fuck him now. It wasn't even nine o'clock yet. The night was young. She would burn up the rest of it with his hot young body, and then be cured of her temporary nymphomania. Maude kept her hand working through the buttons of her dress as she drove on to the entirely inevitable union with her son, her lover, knowing just how beautiful it would be when his body reentered that part of hers from which it had struggled out of fourteen years before. Keeping herself wet with her finger, keeping the car going in a straight line, Maude felt spiritually uplifted, as if she was on an almost holy mission. Without knowing just how, she was certain that the destruction of her son's virginity would be just as good for him as would be the curing of her late-blooming nymphomania. Indeed it was all so very good that Maude experienced a series of orgasms of the soul as she drove on to the fate that awaited her and her son in the little frame house in Ash Creek.
Peter was not there. She called him and called him in a sweet and yearning voice before cursing him roundly and sitting down on the couch for five minutes of hot tears and cold loneliness. But that was no way for a woman with a mission like Maude's to be acting. She had to pull herself together, and this she did. She thought where he might be at that time of night, for there was no way she could calmly wait for him to return. It was probable that he was at a friend's house, but she had the feeling he might be at the house and church and social club of the Reverend Horton's. If nothing else, it would be a good place to start on her search for him, so she set out for there, trying now to keep her fingers out of her cream-filled pussy.
The ramshackle old church was dark, except for a yellow light dimly showing in a back room, and behind that, the light that showed in Cass Horton's living quarters. Maude's breathing sounded harsh and loud in the silence that followed after her turning off the ignition of the old Chevy. It would be perfectly all right to go up and bang on the door, but Maude approached stealthily, not knowing why, and peeped in the lighted window of the rear of the church building.
There was Peter, her son. There was a pool table in the room, and he was engaged in a game with Robbie, Maude's former employee, Velma, the skinny black teenybopper, and a pudgy, pimply, red-haired girl of the same age that Maude had often seen occupying the back seat of one of the low-rider cars that transported the wilder set of teenagers around Ash Creek on their cruisings. Maude's mouth gaped open at the sight of this quartet around the green-baize covered table, seen through a slit between the shade and the window sill, for all four of them were stark naked.
The red-haired girl was leaning over to shoot, and Peter was doing his best to distract her with his hands on her broad, naked hips and his hard pecker poking into the groove between her big ass-cheeks. She squirmed about and tittered at him over her shoulder, the trampy little bitch trying to act coy. Robbie and Velma paid them no mind. They stood facing each other with their toes a foot apart, leaning on their pool cues, leaning forward at each other and fencing with their tongue-tips. It was the most disgusting scene that Maude had ever had the misfortune to witness. She was blinded by hot tears of indignant outrage and she had to turn from the window lest she faint. She leaned against the building, struggling to catch her breath, and when her eyes had cleared, she saw the light coming from Cass Horton's living quarters. She stiffened her back and headed in that direction.
He answered her loud raps wearing an old flannel robe and scuffed slippers. A smile of welcome crossed his craggy features as she elbowed her way past him, still too outraged by what she'd seen to be able to speak.
"Well, howdy, Miz Maudie. What brings you to my...? "
"My son, that's what brings me here!" she exclaimed, pointing in the direction from which she'd come. "He's in your church playing sex games, fornicating with two of the lowest girls in town and a boy I know for a fact is a promiscuous pervert! It's going on right under your nose, in your church!"
"For one thing, this ain't a church any more, Miz Maude," said he, with an infuriatingly affable smile. "I bought the property, desanctified the land and the buildings, and now I'm in the process of turning it into a full-time youth club. I figured the young folks nowadays need a safe, wholesome place to play more'n they do some old codger like me spoutin' hell and damnation to 'em. I figure they'll find religion on their own, and if I can keep 'em out of trouble whilst they's lookin', then I'll do more good than I could do from a pulpit."
"Well, for your information, there's four of your youth club members that're in a lot of trouble now, playing games that're anything but safe and wholesome! And my little boy's one of them!"
"Oh. You seen 'em playin' strip pool? Peeped in the window, did you?"
"You ... you are aware of what's going on in there?" she asked, amazed at this information, totally nonplussed at how he could go on smiling so blandly.
"Better they do it here than in the back seat of some car. And it's safe enough. The girls in the club are all on the pill, and ever'body who joins the club has gotta get a clean test for VD first. Those are part of the requirements, like swearin' off dope. So what they do is safe. Wholesome too. Lots better than sneakin' off and playin' with themselves or lustin' after folks they shouldn't be messin' with or gettin' seduced by older folks with ideas about sex that ain't so free and easy as those the young folks have nowadays."
"I resent that!" Maude spluttered. "My son doesn't play with himself, and he'd never let himself be seduced by someone who wasn't good and pure. He knows that sex can't be had without love!"
The tall, lean man sighed and reached into the folds of his robe to produce his long, limber penis as he said, "He's got one of these, and I know for a fact that it could lead him into a whole mess of trouble if he sets about learnin' how to use it on his own. I've had me a lot of experience with this one," he went on, giving it a fond little shake, "and I've learned from that experience, and I hope to pass on what I've learned."
"Put that thing away!" Maude hissed, backing off from him as his penis grew in his hand.
He slowly came toward her, saying, "I purely admire this here younger generation. I don't want to see 'em grow up like our generation, Maudie, all hung up and strung out with a lot of righteous and evil fixations about sex. Let 'em have it while they're young, I say, so's they can grow up with some thin' on their minds besides cheatin' on their wives and husbands and thinkin' about nothin' 'cept where their next strange piece of tail's comin' from."
"Keep away from me, you evil man!" she said, backed up against a table now, with the man and his elongating penis still advancing on her. "Keep back, you ... you defrocked priest!"
"I gave up my congregation," he said, still advancing, his prick appearing enormous now, and less than a yard away from her. "I didn't get kicked out. I gave 'em up 'cause they was like you, too late to be saved. Them youngsters, I can still help 'em, in my way. I might could help you, too, Maude. I might could get you over some of your hang-ups about sex."
"You can't! I have none!" she said, clinging to the table for support now, in a world that had gone mad.
He laughed and said, "Oh, sure you do. like rape. You're scairt to death of gettin' raped right now, but at the same time you'd love it."
"Not true! Don't you touch me!" she screamed, then screamed again, as with one swipe of his hand, he tore her dress open from neckline to hem, spilling out the voluptuously womanly goodies contained therein.
Maude screamed her breath away while Cass Horton shrugged off his robe, grinning like a calm demon, and moved in on her. His cock burned like an iron against her soft belly as she struggled helpless in his grip. He had one steely arm about her waist, and with the other hand he clamped her by the jaw and kissed her hard on the mouth. She wasn't sure if it was his hand or his tongue that forced her mouth open, but she knew that nausea now competed with fear as his serpent-like tongue jammed into her mouth. His mouth held hers like a suction cup. She was unable to turn her head away even when he'd released her jaw and grabbed a big handful of her ass. Then two hands were on her buttocks and she was being lifted bodily off the floor, legs kicking air, fists beating at his bony shoulders. She managed at last to wrench her mouth from the vile kiss. She threw back her head to scream, knowing that her son would hear her and save her, and still her body ascended dizzily in the rapist's powerful grip. His cock was burning a path down through her groin, blindly seeking that hole which Maude instinctively tried to keep tightly shut. It slipped beneath her, poked up under that most vulnerable part of her while her legs spread out in seeking some means of support, some purchase from which to push away from this sex-crazed madman. And then it was poking at her softest flesh, probing for the orifice that she had to protect at any cost, even though the orifice was now getting shamefully wet and warm.
Her cries gurgled to a halt as he sunk his mouth into her throat, like a vampire seeking her life blood. She gasped for air, tried to strangle him with her arms about his neck. She knew she was going to die, and in those last few moments of her life, her cunt opened up, its juices flowed, and the rapist's lance penetrated her to the core.
"Nooooo...! " she wailed, as the claws of his hands lowered her down on it, as the weight of her own body forced the awful thing deep, deep inside her, deeper than anything could possibly go in her. His mouth came back from her throat to grin widely and wickedly at her, she could breathe again, she was going to survive this awful ordeal, and in the vast relief that flooded through her reprieved body, she began to cum.
There was no way she could stop it. It was something she neither wanted nor expected, but there it was, racking her suspended body with wave after giddy wave of the most gut-racking pleasure she had ever known. It couldn't last. It was too great, too soul-shattering to continue, but the powerful man who held her by the ass made it go on.
Feet planted squarely on the floor, hands dug deep into her ass-cheeks, he jogged her up and down on his cock, slamming it up inside her juicy pussy time after time. She was like a puppet on a string, with him the puppet-master. Her legs jerked and dangled, her arms flopped limply at her sides, her head lolled on her shoulders, as he drove it into her. Still the waves of pleasure went on. She was crying out in an agony of tortured ecstasy and he was grunting and laughing through his exertions. The pleasure Maude knew was too much, the joys too shamefully good, and she prayed for the salvation of falling into a swoon. She was almost there, almost unconscious, when the tone of his utterances changed.
He sounded like he was the one in mortal agony now. He groaned and gasped. His hands dug deeper still into her buttocks. It roused Maude to a higher state of awareness. It was he who was dying now, and she had to do all she could to help him along to his death. She summoned strength from she knew not where, and was able to throw her legs and her arms about him, and to bob up and down on the big hard thing in her cunt. With all her strength, she clamped down on it with the muscles of her unbelievably well-lubricated cunt. She fought to strangle it, felt it throbbing hard against her frictioning cunt-walls, and as a mortal shudder ripped through him, something broke within Maude, and she really began to cum.
Somewhere, sometime, far in the past, she had felt like this before. Her first orgasm might have been like this, or the orgasms she felt on her wedding night, or perhaps she'd only known such an orgasm in her dreams. In any event, it was nothing at all like the spasms of sexual pleasure she had known near the end of her busy husband's life or at the hands of the boys she'd had working for her in the diner. This was it, this was the real thing, and now all her efforts were turned toward returning to Cass Horton all she could of the vast reawakening he had given to her. She hugged him with arms and legs, kissed his twisted face, squeezed his sliding cock with her cunt, until at last the gutsy pleasures subsided to a tolerable level, and all the strength was draining from her body just as her juices were draining out of her cunt and down over his wonderful, empty balls. He was swaying, barely able to support her now on his legs, and his hands were slipping from their grip on her sweat-drenched body. Down she slipped, moaning with sweet agony as his cock slipped out of her hole, her perfectly sated hole. She slid slowly down his lean body like a fireman descending a molasses-covered pole. His slowly deflating prick was a wonderful thing now, a friendly little animal, as it traced a wet path up her body, over her belly past her tits, on toward her face. She caught it in both hands and held it to her cheek, opened her panting mouth and sucked it in, then sat huddled on the floor at his feet, crooning with a contentment that was something else she had forgotten existed.
He helped her to a sagging couch where they held hands and gazed at each other. He said, "I been waitin' a long time for that, Maude."
"I guess ... I have too, Reverend."
"I'm just Cass."
"Just Cass. Wonderful Cass."
"I'm gonna want some more of that," he said, touching her cunt.
It opened like a flower, and she said, "When? Now? I've got to rest for just a minute." She was hot again! Impossible, after an experience like that, but true.
But her new heat quickly faded to contentment again when he laughed and said, "I'm gonna have to rest for more'n just a minute. And I'm gonna want you more'n just one more time, and in more than just that way I just had you."
"Yes. Yes, Cass. Any way you want me at all!"
"I want you all ways for all time. You and me gettin' together is the logical thing to do. We're both of the right age, both single, both interested in youngsters, and...."
"No. No more young men for me. No more boys. I confess, Cass, I did ... seduce some boys at my diner. But that's all over with now. Now that I have a man, I don't need boys."
"No need to confess. Robbie told me. I had a talk with your boy too, but there's no need to go into that now. like I was sayin', it's logical for us to get together. You help me with the youth club, I help you with the diner. We can do the kids some good, and us some good too. It's logical."
"Cass, is that all it is?" she asked, her hand sliding to his cock. "Isn't there ... love?"
He smiled at her in a benign way, and said, "There's been that for a long time, Maude."
