"We-we really shouldn't be doing this," Sheila Lathrop told Roger Dunham.
His hand was up under her sweater squeezing her well-developed breasts; the fifteen-year-old lad went on feeling her heaving bosom and assured her that their sex play was perfectly all right since his mother was away at work and wouldn't be home until well after 5:30 that evening.
What he didn't know was that his attractive thirty-four-year-old mother, Norma Dunham, had left work at 3:30 with a splitting headache and now stood eavesdropping from the nearby hallway.
"You're sure nobody's here?" fourteen-year-old Sheila asked, breathing heavily as ' she stared down at Roger's erection bulging inside his corduroy bell-bottoms. "I mean, it's an awfully big house. There aren't any maids lurking around or anything?"
"It's absolutely deserted," Roger said. "The maid comes only on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. We have the place all to ourselves. Come on, let's take that bra off."
"Well, all right, Roger," she said. "If you're sure."
Actually, Sheila felt honored to be the object of Roger Dunham's lust in this very plush house. He was a good-looking boy and she had admired him for a long time now. Everybody at school-the whole town of Lanning, in fact-spoke very highly of Roger, even if his parents were divorced. Also, his father was a famous trial lawyer in nearby San Francisco.
Roger pushed Sheila back so that she was half-reclined in the corner of the enormous sofa and fondled her bare titties. His breath came fast. For months now he'd dreamed of feeling up Sheila, maybe even screwing her. He had a rubber in his wallet, just in case she let him go all the way. He kissed her full on the mouth, probing between her full lips with his tongue and planting hungry kisses on her eyes, cheeks, and neck. He went on that way for a while and then he pried her knees apart with his own knee and ran his hand up her smooth inner thigh to her damp panties. She didn't grab his wrist or anything, but she wasn't exactly spreading her legs wider apart either.
Reluctant-that was the word for her. Still, she did permit him to run his fingers up and down her moist little slit through the sheer material of her panties and, finally, he even managed to slip his middle finger under the elastic band and dip it partly into her gushing cunt.
'Oh, Roger," Sheila panted. "That feels so good, but I-I feel so guilty doing this right here in broad daylight in your living room."
"Nothing to worry about, Sheila," he said, fingering her more deeply all the time, prying her legs farther apart and tonguing her ear now. "Nobody can see us. I have a rubber, too, and we can do anything we want ... anything..."
Sheila stared over his shoulder at her school books on top of long mahogany stereo cabinet by the big bay window. It was a beautiful day for October-not a cloud in the sky-and the swank, residential neighborhood was trafficless. For nearly a month now, Roger had been flirting with her and watching her during her gym class. Today, when he had invited her for a Coke after school, she had accepted his invitation eagerly, and when he'd asked her to drop by his house to listen to records she'd been ecstatic. She hadn't expected the son of such a famous lawyer to move quite so quickly though, but now here she was-on her back with his finger up her cunt. She didn't think she'd let him fuck her, at least not today ... but she was not so sure. She was getting more and more excited and so was he.
"Roger, it's okay to-to touch each other, but I don't think we should, you know, actually do it here on the couch."
"Why?" he said, his finger all the way up her cunt and shoving steadily in and out up to his knuckle. His voice trembled and he could barely speak. Sheila Lathrop, he thought. Right here in his living room! God, he had lain awake in bed for weeks dreaming of fingering her pussy this way and now here she was ready and ripe for the taking. His finger was in her snatch, wasn't it? What difference would it make if he slipped his cock in there where his finger was? Ray Stevens and Phil Kendall had both fucked her, so why should she deny him his first piece of tail? He'd gone to the trouble to get a rubber, so he couldn't knock her up. He'd been considerate and a gentleman and he really was fond of her.
"Why?" he repeated. "You know I really like you, Sheila. I want to be with you. I want to take you to the movies and the Halloween dance, everything. Why can't we do it? You know I like you-maybe even love you-and I really want to make love to you. Now."
He raised her sweater up and began kissing and licking at the nipples of her titties. Wow, she really did have a mouthful all right-the best developed girl he'd ever felt and sucked. He decided not to scare her off. She'd said it was okay to touch. He'd go on touching until their touching just naturally lead to fucking. Gradually. Real gradually. That was the secret, he guessed. Touching meant for both of them, too, so he didn't see any reason why she shouldn't touch him. He took her hand and put it against his hard on.
She cooperated by rubbing his organ to the accompaniment of the loud rock music blaring from the stereo. After a while, he unzipped his fly and let his stiff cock flop free. Sheila grasped it firmly in her warm, smooth hand and squeezed lightly. Then, at his urging, she began slowly moving his foreskin back and forth, slowly jacking it so that it sent tremors up and down Roger's spine. God, he wished she'd let him sink it into her hot velvet snatch right this instant. He'd go crazy if she didn't let him bury his pulsing meat between her legs, hold her pert little ass in his hands and drive and drive until he came inside her. Things were looking good. Sheila had begun pumping slightly, moving her ass in an involuntary little rhythm to meet the plunging of his finger in her twat.
"Roger ... you're the handsomest boy at school," she panted. "I-I wouldn't be letting you do this if-if you weren't such-such a gentleman. You know that, don't you? Don't you, Roger?"
"Yes, Sheila," he breathed. "I know that. You're a beautiful, beautiful girl and I respect you. You know I wouldn't be doing this with just anyone either. Oh, Sheila! I have to do it to you-I have to! You've been driving me crazy for months. I think about you all the time. I dream of doing this to you. All the time. I have to fuck you. You have to let me. Pretty soon?"
"I-I guess so," she said. "But-but only because I like you so much. You know that, don't you, Roger? Don't you?"
"Yes," he sighed, relieved that she had agreed to let him go the distance. He could wait a little while longer now that he at least knew they were going to fuck for certain. Fuck! he thought. At last he was going to fuck and know how it really felt. He would join the happy ranks of the veterans! No longer would he be a virgin; and he would be fully accepted as an equal by Phil and Ray and his other friends who had experienced the ultimate sexual delight.
Ah, to fuck! Maybe, if she would let him, he thought, he would even eat her pussy. It would be too much to ask her to suck his prick; that could come later. The main thing was they were going to fuck! Fuck! Fuck!
Sheila's hand worked deftly and methodically over his penis now, sliding his throbbing member ever-so-tinglingly amidst the dribblings that filled her palm. There was only one thing lacking. Heat. Cunt-heat. He wanted to be in there between her legs where it was oven-hot. He wished he didn't have to wear the damn rubber, but he dare not fuck her without it. All he needed was a knocked-up girl on his hands. His family would die-especially his mother. No, he would have to slip the thing on just before he shoved his prong inside her. It was the right thing to do. He owed Sheila that. At least. She was a fine girl and, after all, he had always been considerate. If ever a man owed a girl a little consideration, he reasoned, it was when he screwed her. Quite possibly, it was even more important than opening doors for her or carrying her books from school.
She didn't resist now as he hooked his thumbs in the elastic band of her panties and slid them down over ankles and threw them on the floor. The blood raced and throbbed in his temples. The music seemed to grow louder. His pants were down now, too, and off completely.
"Sheila ... Sheila," he moaned, spreading her legs wide, shoving her skirt up so that it bunched around her waist and he could view the delicious contour of her stomach and the little patch of dark-brown hair on her pubic mound.
"Roger," she groaned. "You promise you'll still respect me and like me after we do it?"
"Yes, yes," he cried. "Oh, more than ever! More than ever!"
And then he stared at the pussy before him and knew that he had to taste it, knew that he had to bend down and kiss it and lick it before he stuck his dripping hard on into her love-furnace. He hoped she didn't think him crude. He couldn't help himself. He was afraid to ask if anyone had ever eaten her pussy before, afraid his question might alert her as to his intention and she would stop him before he could satisfy a desire that had hounded him for several years now.
"Sheila ... Sheila," he muttered, never taking his eyes from her cunt lips and the vertical pink line between her legs as he slid down to his knees on the floor. "I-I want to kiss you-have to kiss your beautiful pussy first."
If any boy had ever sucked Sheila's pussy before, Sheila didn't betray the fact. Her groans rose to a fever-pitch as his mouth engulfed her juicy cunt and licked and laved about the interior and exterior of her hole. Still, she didn't seem terribly shocked either, so it was possible that one of her previous lovers had mouthed her quim. For Roger, though, it was even more exciting, more delicious than he had dreamed. He tasted her pussy gingerly at first; then, when he was certain that she was not shocked and, in fact, began lifting her buttocks steadily up from the couch to meet his darting tongue, he gobbled with unrestrained gusto, inhaling deeply and swallowing every drop of lubricant he could extract from her tasty cavern.
"Oh, Roger ... Roger ... Roger," Sheila lied, "no-no boy ever did that to me before. Oh ... Oh ... don't stop!" She clutched his head and pumped faster and harder, pressing the little nub of flesh at the very top of her dripping crease harder and more forcefully at him. She began gyrating her ass, grinding and thrusting with an abandon he had not imagined possible for such a shy and retiring girl. Yes, she had gone into a trance-like state because the pleasure was so intense. Roger longed to embed his bursting cock in her but he wondered whether relieving his aching balls would deprive her in some way. Driving her to this height of ecstasy, this frenzied peak, was soothing to his ego (no, more than soothing!) but he knew he could not wait much longer. He would come from just listening to her voice alone if he didn't fuck her soon.
Testing her, he eased the pressure of his mouth against her vagina and slowed his rhythm. She didn't panic and so he lifted himself from his knees and gradually slipped his cock to the entrance of her saliva-drenched cunt. He paused then, letting the head of his cock acclimate itself to the hot climate before attempting to push his jerking organ into the depths of her.
"Sheila, Sheila!" he panted. "Oh, at last ... at last ... oh, I love you, Sheila..."
"Hurry!" she whined. "Hurry and put it in me. Hurry..."
Her arms which had at first clasped his shoulders loosely now clamped him fiercely to her breasts, and with one hand she reached down and pushed against the small of his back, demanding that he make haste and enter her. Roger put the rubber on and began feeding his cock to her, sampling the paralyzing heat slowly, feeling the indescribable warmth envelop his organ. It was torture entering her at this slow pace but something commanded him to ease himself in, make his entry something they could both savor.
When finally it was in to the hilt, they both emitted long, satisfied ahhs and showered each other's face with wet hungry kisses.
"Oh, fuck me, Roger. Fuck me with your big hard peter," Sheila breathed, holding him even tighter against her and hooking her dainty feet around the backs of his ankles. Her stomach spasmed against his and their pelvis bones were locked tightly together. They lay there without moving for a moment, reveling in the fact that penis lay embedded in vagina, the bone-hard plug in its rightful bed of wet warmth. The couch was very wide and they were able to rock from side to side, not actually fucking yet, but merely relishing the delectable friction their spontaneous movements brought.
"In you," Roger sighed. "Inside of your special place."
"Ummm," Sheila cooed, hearing champagne music. "It's wonderful, wonderful. Doesn't it feel wonderful? I wanted to-really wanted to lay you, Roger-but I was afraid to do it here. But I really wanted to. I-I'm sorry if I seemed so scared."
"That's all right. It's in there now. Your pussy's so hot, Sheila. Yes, it is wonderful. Fucking is wonderful...."
"Yes ... oh, yes," Sheila grunted. "Let's make it last. I want you to stay inside me a long time."
"I'll stay as long as I can. Oh, it's even hotter in there than I imagined."
"Is it really that hot? Does it feel that good?"
"Better than anything ... anything...."
"Ummm ... for me too ... Wonderful, wonderful ... " she bubbled.
They lay there, rocking back and forth, talking of the wonder and heat and texture of each other's organs and how wonderful it felt; they settled into a more pertinent up-and-down motion; the rhythm of lovers everywhere; the instinctive, purposeful motion of male and female since the beginning of time (maybe even before!) as they sought the blessed relief of their loins and hurtled toward jerky fulfillment and the beautiful and inevitable goal of orgasm-genital heaven, the body's sensual bliss.
The mingling of their groans, the clutching of hands and writhing of bodies grew more intense as they pumped in desperate urgency toward their mutual mission, the male emission, the outpouring of anxious seed into welcome, fertile heat.
Yes, Roger's mother thought, viewing her son's buttocks thump at the widespread legs, it is beautiful ... a beautiful act and the youth of the lovers, their awkward grace, made its simple straightforwardness even more beautiful.
But it was, for Norma Dunham, an enviable act-not only because of the youth of the lovers and the fact that her son, her boy, was mating with another female instead of herself, but because she was not the one sharing this most important first with her son. She wanted to be the source of all good things for him, including sex. She knew this desire was not normal on her part, not any more normal than watching her son seduce a teenage girl without interrupting him, but she had known for a long time now that she would seduce her own son when the proper time presented itself. She only wished that she had been the one to indoctrinate him instead of such an inexperienced girl. In a way she felt cheated. Still, it was stimulating to watch him humping there and imagine his smooth, blemishless bottom thrusting between her own legs.
A tear ran down the cheek of Norma Dunham as she massaged her left breast with one hand and fingered her clitoris with the other.
Her boy had become a man.
No longer could she delight him with toys. To win him now she would have to give him her body-the ultimate gift. She again regretted she had not been his first. Still, there was much to offer him. He was a novice at lovemaking and there was much of the ancient art she could teach him. She stroked her vagina and wept quietly and planned.
Her headache had been a blessing, really. If she had not left her job as toy buyer for Bartlett's department store early today she would not have known of her son's loss of virginity. She was grateful, too, that she had parked her car inside the garage instead of leaving it in the driveway. The youngsters had entered thinking the house deserted and, therefore, begun their lovemaking. Everything happened for a reason, she thought for perhaps the thousandth time in her life. Yes, her headache had occurred for a reason.
In her mid-thirties, Norma Dunham was definitely pretty. Although one would not call her voluptuous, neither could anyone say she lacked sex appeal. Her divorce from her lawyer husband had not been due to any sexual problem. No. Her parting from Lester Dunham could be attributed to his all-consuming dedication to his work. He just wasn't around much. Clubs, late nights at his office, incessant meetings with clients-all combined to cause a steady deterioration in their relationship until divorce was inevitable. like many extremely ambitious men, Lester Dunham had given himself excessively to his career at the expense of his family. Now he was famous and getting more so all the time. To his credit, he admitted his own obsession and therefore provided handsomely for his ex-wife and only son. Norma worked primarily to avoid boredom, certainly not because she needed money.
The two teenagers were thrashing about and having at each other with an almost adult ferocity. Norma Dunham could hardly believe it was the same boy she had nursed and raised to be such a little gentleman who now applied himself with such diligence to the task of impaling this teenage girl beneath him. But there he was-pumping away and muttering those four-letter words in the girl's ear and clutching her buttocks firmly in his long, artistic hands almost like a veteran at the game. Men always stabbed ferociously as they raced toward their climaxes (bless them) and for that matter adult women were not exactly passive in the sex act either, but to see her own flesh and blood-her little Roger-take this girl with such violence startled her. When she had first decided to seduce her son herself, she had imagined that he would be somewhat gentle, even tender, but now she had to revise her mental picture of her body lying on top of her, cradled in her arms with his organ stiff and piercing her wet vagina. Yes, their copulating would be considerably different from what she had planned.
Still fingering her clitoris as she stood watching the fornicating youngsters, Norma conjured up memories of her boy naked. There had been the usual times every mother remembers, naturally, but changing his diaper and bathing him when he had been very young didn't count, even though he had always been the possessor of an over-size penis. ("Good grief! Look at the whanger on that kid," his proud father had exclaimed the first time he had seen Roger naked in his crib.) No, it was when Roger had grown older that Norma now recalled. The many times she had interrupted him during his bath, for instance, just recently. He had obviously resented her invasions of his privacy and had seemed anxious to cover his private parts when she had barged unexpectedly into the bathroom, but she had done so almost compulsively. Twice her intrusions had been rewarded with glimpses of what she was certain had been an erection. Yes, she was certain he had been masturbating with soapsuds there in the warm water-certain of it!
And oh how she had longed to assist him in washing his back, longed to subtly let the soapy washcloth run over his chest and legs and unobtrusively light upon his male organ, so beautiful and firm and erect!
Remembering her feelings, she fingered her clit even harder now as she watched him with envy plunging that penis-her penis-into this inexperienced girl. Several times, too, when she had come quietly into his room to kiss him and rub his back at bedtime, she'd been certain his penis was erect. Masturbating, she'd supposed, hoping that somehow he would have been so carried away that his good night kiss to her would have been tinged with passion. But instead he had forced himself to calm his breathing and given her only a perfunctory peck on the cheek. Well, now she would have to get bolder, more aggressive, she thought. She sincerely doubted that any male walking the face of this earth could resist a determined sexual approach by a woman, even his own mother.
It's a fact.
You stroke a man, show affection, speak lovingly and softly and their organs respond by getting larger. They can't help it! Nature designs them this way. Incest is really not so complicated as some people like to believe. The truth is, under the right circumstances a man would have sex with anything that moves! Their penises enlarge and they push against the first available thing that promises warmth.
It was Norma's firm conviction in the validity of this premise-this absolute inability to resist sexual stimuli on the part of the male animal-that gave her hope. Yes, she had been waiting for the right time to seduce her son and now, judging from what she now witnessed-the time had come. Too long had she loved Roger from afar. Now was the time to clutch him to her breast and let their bodies be as one.
"Oh, it's getting better and better, Roger!" Sheila cried. "It-it's feeling so good I can't stand it. You're filling me up ... filling my hole all the way up ... filling me up so full I-I-Oh, Roger ... harder, nice and harder."
Sheila was pulling with both hands on Roger's ever-pumping ass now, tugging with all her might, arching her back, her face contorted in what resembled agonizing pleasure, ramming her pelvis at his and screaming for him to finish her. Watching, Norma was amazed that a fourteen-year-old girl could be so orgasm conscious. She apparently had considerably more experience under her belt sexually than most girls her age.
"I'm fucking as hard as I can," Roger cried back. "It's so tight and hot and I'm ready to come ... Sheila. Oh, Sheila. Are you coming, too? Are you? Are you?"
"Oh, yes ... yes ... It never felt this good before! Yes ... fuck as hard as you can ... there ... there ... oh, therrrreeeee ... Yesssss..."
"Me toooooo!" Roger wailed, plunging at a rapid-fire buttocks burst. He stopped then, ceased his plunging and lay gasping for breath with his cheek against Sheila's. Both of them lay panting and shuddering.
Norma reached her own clitoral orgasm and although it was not the most intense she had ever experienced it was strong enough so that her legs went weak beneath her and she had to grab the wall for support. Gasping, she stared at the youngsters, spent and satiated on the couch. She hoped they hadn't stained the beige couch with any of their love fluid. She stared at them, panting and frowning. She was startled that such young lovers could manage a simultaneous orgasm. It seemed absolutely incredible ! She shook her head in amazement. When it came time to make love with her son she would be facing more competition than she had anticipated ... much more. These damned kids today were becoming so sophisticated one never knew what to expect of them next.
She went back to her room and lay on her bed. When Sheila had left she would make her appearance; Roger, though surprised, would never guess she had watched him making love. She would tell him she'd been taking a nap. She lay there trying to decide when and how to approach her son sexually. Certainly she couldn't make any overtures tonight. He had just spewed forth his seed and would not be receptive. She would wait a few days and let his young and eager body store up sexual energy once again. She wanted him ready and craving release. Then the comparison between herself and that younger girl would be negligible. Sheila, she thought, silently mouthing the name. She didn't much care for the name-no, not at all. It was an ugly name. She would have to express her disapproval of the girl somehow and turn Roger's interest in her elsewhere. But how?
She would have to think of something tomorrow. Right now she must plan the time, place, and method of the sexual encounter with her son-her wonderful, wonderful son. She mustn't frighten him. No, that would prove disastrous if not catastrophic. Their love-session would have to arise naturally-as simply and as naturally as the rising of the male organ itself-and it would have to be both memorable and totally guiltless for Roger because Norma Dunham wanted their new relationship to be continuing, to endure and grow beautiful and satisfying for both of them over the years.
II
Three days later Norma Dunham placed the last of the dinner dishes in the automatic dishwasher, then went into the living room and sat down.
Her son lay on his stomach on the floor staring up at the big, built-in color television screen. He wore his bathrobe and he was propped up on his elbows with his chin in his hands. Norma could tell he wore only undershorts beneath his robe by the distinct cleft of his buttocks through the lightweight material. For some reason he detested pajamas. He was watching a western.
Norma stared at Roger's buttocks and remembered it thrusting so savagely between the legs of young Sheila. "You haven't been seeing much of that rattle-brained Sheila who was here the other day, have you?" she asked.
"No," Roger said. "Just at school. I don't see what you have against her. You haven't even met her. How can you be so critical?"
"I know, but from the way you described her I know her kind. Shallow. And she lives north of Sunnydale Road. If it weren't for our gerrymandered zoning system she wouldn't even attend the same school with you."
Roger didn't bother to answer.
"We ate dinner very late," Norma continued. "Don't you think it's about time you went to bed?"
"Soon as this is over," he said.
Norma feasted her eyes on her son's strong, firm body. Even beneath the bathrobe he exuded youth and agility. He had taken a bath before dinner and used some of that manly scented talcum she'd given him for Easter.
She could smell it.
Oh, he was such a handsome and healthy specimen of a boy! His shoulders were broad and his hips were narrow. His face was squarish, his chin strong and determined, and the light brown, wavy hair framing his almost angelic face shone and had not yet receded like his father's. A dream of a boy ... a dream...
She wished he would hurry and go to bed. Then she could put her plan into effect. She had thought the whole thing out very carefully. She would give him a few minutes to get settled and relaxed and then she would enter his room and sit down on the bed beside him. So far, perfectly normal. She had performed this ritual a thousand times in the past.
But tonight would be different.
Tonight as she rubbed his back and spoke soothingly to him she would rub differently and with a different goal in mind. Her hand would move lower and more ticklingly and, when the moment was right, there would be kisses. She felt certain he wouldn't resist her if she proceeded smoothly, gradually. His response would be the inevitable male response, although it would require a certain degree of passivity on his part. Still, she felt certain she could lead him to the point where he could not turn back despite any inner struggle that might arise within him. She would be naked beneath her own robe and the outcome would be natural, instinctive. Their lovemaking would merely happen.
Tonight would involve only Phase One of her plan, of course, and an important part of the plan was to quell her son's inevitable guilt feelings which would follow. She had given this part of her plan the most careful consideration of all, for if his sense of guilt following tonight could not be erased then Phase Two would never happen. And it was this second phase that was all-important to Norma Dunham.
Phase One involved bringing her son to orgasm-at least with her hand and, she hoped, with her mouth.
Phase Two involved sexual intercourse for the rest of their lives!
Tonight she would introduce him to a new delight which only a skilled and mature woman could perform. Then would follow a lull, a period during which she would remove his shame and condition him for an all-out physical relationship.
"Your hair's awfully long, son. I wish you'd get a haircut," she remarked rather reprovingly.
"Oh, Mother-" He ignored her and went on watching the television film.
"Well, I'm going now and take my bath. The movie should be over by then. I want you in bed within fifteen minutes, do you hear, Roger? "
"Yes, Mother."
A commercial interrupted the film just then and Roger rolled over onto his back. His robe parted slightly and Norma could see her son's pubic hair and part of his large penis. She forced herself not to stare at his genitals.
"Listen, Mom," he said. "I've been thinking. Do you suppose we could take down all those stuffed animals and some of those younger toys cluttering up the shelves in my room? I'm not a kid anymore, you know? When my friends come over I have to explain that you are a toy buyer at Bartlett's and that's why I still have all the baby stuff. But it's embarrassing. It really is. Naturally, the football and basketball and baseball equipment are fine, but I just gotta throw that kid junk out."
Norma's first impulse was to fly into uncontrolled rage, to lash out and remind her son that each and every toy-the stuffed animals, the train, the cars and little trucks, the animal pictures, the baby booties-represented a loving gift, a phase in his life that was sacred to her. But then she caught herself. She realized once again that everything did happen for a reason. Yes, the timing could not be more perfect. Her son was indeed about to become a man-in every respect-and it was time to remove all memories of his childhood from his room.
"Certainly, Roger," she said. "I don't know why I didn't think of the idea myself. It is silly having all those kid's things in a grown boy's room."
Roger seemed a little surprised at his mother's immediate agreement with him. The commercial finished just then and the movie once again flashed on the TV screen. "Uh-thanks, Mom," he said, puzzled, and rolled over on his stomach again.
"In fact, we'll toss them in the hall closet with your baby books right after I finish my bath," Norma said.
"Great," he said. "Good riddance!"
Norma filled the tub extra high with unusually hot water. She wanted it that way. Tonight was special. She wanted to be scrubbed clean, pure and without a speck of odor on her; worthy. Then she would apply talcum and cologne to her body-prepare herself for her son's true indoctrination. That meaningless affair with that teenage tramp, Sheila, had been only a prelude. Roger's knowledge of life and the true meaning of femininity would come tonight ... with his mother.
The water in the tub was too hot to bear, Norma decided as she tested it with her toe. Ouch. Scalding! She decided to let it cool just a bit while she did her facial exercises in front of the mirror. She stood there, moving the muscles of her face up and down and from side to side, massaging away any possible future wrinkles. She was a good-looking woman and she knew it; prevention is the best policy. After a while, she backed away from the mirror and studied her body. Firm and curved and indented in all the right places. She had her sitting-up exercises and careful dieting to thank for that! Thirty-four was not old by any means (friends told her she looked younger than thirty!) but she intended to go on looking youthful and trim and attractive-for Roger. What son wanted to have sex with and fondle a haggard and saggy-looking mother?
Norma tested the tub water once again, then eased into the very hot water and, finally, lay on her back to soak. She lay there remembering all the wonderful times with Roger while he was growing up. She remembered his first day at school. He'd wet his pants and rubbed sand on the wet thinking it would go away, but of course it had only made things more obvious and he'd come home crying. She had hugged him and patiently assuaged his embarrassment. How many times had she hugged him and made him the confident man he was today? She couldn't count them.
The good times, too, were innumerable. Countless. Norma recalled trips to the beach before she'd divorced Roger's father. And there were delightful weekends in their mountain cabin: sailing, water-skiing, hiking; toboggans and snow fights in the winter.
The beach house had been fun, too, and the trips to Mexico on their yacht. Well, Norma thought, now that Roger's father led his own life, many of the former pleasures were no longer possible, so it was all the more important that she and Roger share life intimately-live as one. Tonight would mark the beginning of an era in their lives.
When Norma was certain she had soaked herself spotless-even more antiseptic than on her wedding night-she got out of the tub and toweled herself with great care. Then she applied the talc and cologne. No facial creams tonight, and no pins in the hair either. No sir. She brushed her hair until it glistened, then went to her room and entered the huge walk-in closet. She decided against her bathrobe in favor of a white negligee, very sheer and almost transparent. Then she stood before her long mirror and admired her jutting, prominent breasts and firm body once again before putting on her slippers and joining Roger in the living room. Fortunately, the movie had just ended and the coming attractions were on. She smiled to herself and thought: Everything happens for a reason. She had a few "Coming Attractions" of her own in mind for young Roger.
"Well, dear," she sing-songed, "shall we tuck all those kid things in the closet and tuck you in for bed?"
Rising, Roger did a double-take at the sight of his mother in the see-through negligee. "Uh-yes, Mom," he said, trying to keep his gaze from loitering on any vital places. "It's-uh-really swell of you to agree to dump all that junk. I thought you might object?"
"Nonsense, darling," she said. "What on earth ever gave you that idea? I want you to be happy. I've always wanted nothing but your happiness."
He was looking at her a little skeptically and still having trouble deciding where and where not to look. Good, Norma thought, he's trying not to stare at my tits and the little patch between my legs.
"You're a big boy now, Roger-a man." She wrinkled her nose in a fun-loving gesture. "Come on now. Let's get that baby junk out of my big man's room and get him to bed." She offered her hand and he took it.
It took several trips, even with both of them carrying armfuls, to unload the shelves and stash all the articles from Roger's childhood away in the closet. When they had finished the room looked barren, unfurnished.
"We'll get you men's things to fill those shelves," Norma said. "Adult books, a sailing ship, an antique dueling pistol, things like that." She laughed. "Maybe even a pipe rack! Or how about a few pin-ups on the wall?" she said, winking.
"Really? Could I?"
"Certainly. Why not? You're a man, aren't you?"
Roger stood there delighted, grinning.
"I'm going to brush my teeth," Norma said to her son. "Slip into bed and I'll be back in a minute to tuck you in." It was a lie. She had already brushed her teeth, but she wanted him in bed when she returned. She would leave the hall light on for just the right effect and then she would make her approach with the door slightly ajar.
She left him then and flitted idly about the house, turning off lights and locking doors.
After just the right amount of time had elapsed, she returned, left the door partly open and sat down on the bed beside Roger. He lay on his back. She kissed his cheek lingeringly and told him to turn over onto his stomach so that she could rub his back. He obeyed and she turned back the covers all the way down to his knees. Only his tight-fitting undershorts marred her view of his splendidly muscled body. She began massaging his back with both hands in the usual casual manner. She scrunched his shoulder blades together, squeezed his firm upper arms and neck and pushed lightly at the small of his back just above his shorts.
"We've gotten along fairly well these past few years-just the two of us-haven't we?" she asked, her hands still working.
"Ummm," Roger grunted, lulled by the massage.
"Yes, we've even become good friends. Yes, that's important ... a deep friendship. Sometimes I think of you more as a friend than my son, did you know that? Well, I do. And friends can tell each other anything and everything. They can share everything imaginable, Roger."
Norma's hands moved lower with each stroke of his back, encompassing more and more of his buttocks. Occasionally she let her fingers slide under the elastic band of his shorts, preparing him for even lower attention. Finally, at least every third stroke of her hand included his outer thigh and the cheeks of his buttocks.
"Feel good?" she inquired.
"Great," he said. "Nice."
There was no alarm in his voice and she began concentrating exclusively on the lower half of his body, kneading the cheeks of his firm rear-the same cheeks she had patted lovingly or spanked when he'd been a child. She managed to move his trunk from side to side and up and down, creating friction between the mattress and his genitals. She doubted that his organ could remain limp after such stimulation even if he willed it so and, who could tell, maybe he longed for the same physical intimacy with her as she sought with him? Such a thing was not impossible, was it? Perhaps his beautiful man's prick was rigid and eager this very instant. She wondered if it was.
And then several wonderful things happened that brought fierce hope and desire to the pit of Norma's stomach. First, Roger's cheeks clenched tightly together beneath his shorts and he seemed to indulge himself in several subtle pelvic thrusts at the bed. Ah, so he is responding, she thought. Despite himself he was becoming sexually aroused. Then, best of all, her son casually raised his bottom and reached down with his hand to adjust himself. His penis was enlarging! Its growth had brought momentary discomfort and he had found it necessary to align it so that it lay flat! What other explanation could there be?
Norma's hands worked on, pressing even harder now to create even more friction. Her beautiful son's penis was erect now, she was certain of it, and she grew bolder as she indirectly drove her boy's genital region faster and harder against the bed-so rapidly and firmly that the bedsprings began to squeak. And still no resistance-no resistance at all. In fact, he began to squirm slightly, almost imperceptibly, and twice she thought she heard him moan. Yes, she thought, bending lower, he was moaning. She was sure of it! The thought of him erect and ready for direct sexual contact drove her to near frenzy. Her breath came faster and so did Roger's.
Should she be satisfied this first time with merely bringing him to a climax by pushing his organ against the bed, or dare she attempt to lower his shorts and touch his erection directly? The thought that she should conduct her seductive campaign in stages running over a period of several nights occurred to her, but her pulse quickened wildly with desire and she could not control herself. No, no, she thought. She had to have him tonight-touch and mouth his beautiful body. It was sacrifice enough to restrain herself from seeking actual sexual intercourse this first night!
Her heart slamming against her ribs now, she bounced his buttocks into the bed with one hand and ran her other hand ticklingly up and down the length of his back. His moaning increased in intensity and she resisted the urge to hurl herself onto him and take him by force!
"This will make you nice and drowsy and help you sleep," she cooed, desperately hiding the tremor in her voice. "Yes, you'll sleep like a baby. Maybe-maybe you're even asleep already?" This question, she realized, was a master-stroke! It would provide him with the perfect excuse for letting her have her way with him. He could pretend he was asleep and therefore blameless. She wondered why she hadn't thought of this tactic before. Perfect! Perfect! She decided to continue this approach.
"Yes, nice and drowsy," she repeated. "You're probably asleep right now. Well, that's all right. I'll just go on rubbing my darling's back even though he is asleep. He doesn't even know what I'm doing but this is good for his backmakes it nice and straight and strong. He's sound asleep but I'll just go on rubbing ... making him feel good all over..."
Gently, Norma tugged at his undershorts and lowered them to his knees. Still, there wasn't the slightest hint of resistance-only the reward of a slight writhing of his body as her hand made contact with his bare flesh. She maintained the pressure against his buttocks, still pushing firmly up and down, up and down, and with her free hand she began running her fingers tantalizingly between the sheet and the front of his hips, digging her fingers a little further toward the organ she knew was erect by now with each urgent stroke.
Finally, her hand rubbed his stomach-his abdomen-and she knew she was perhaps an inch away from her goal, if that! Just then, her son groaned and then, almost fitfully, turned slightly so that he lay a bit on his side. It was a perfect move-a move one asleep might very well make-and it gave Norma complete and total access to her son's waiting cock. She extended her fingertips perhaps a hair's length and at last made contact with her son's dribbling, hot erection. She emitted a little gasp and took a deep breath before she gingerly took the firm, round giant in her hand and tested Roger one final time by squeezing it before going into all out action.
To her delight, he rolled over on his back and lay still, as though in a deep sleep. His eyelids quivered rapidly though, and his heaving chest betrayed his consciousness. Good, she thought, her own body trembling all over now, he'll be aware of everything I'm going to do but he's saved himself the embarrassment of admitting he's awake.
Norma took a long time massaging her son's pectoral muscles, his nipples, his abdomen and muscled thighs as she eyed his meaty monster jutting at the ceiling so firm and erect in the dim light. When finally she lay her cheek on his abdomen with her lips just inches from its stalk, she took it delicately in her palm the way a connoisseur of fine sculpture might appraise something fragile.
It was not fragile.
It pulsed and even jerked slightly as she grasped it more openly and even his scrotum seemed to hum with excitement (Was it his love fluid, his semen, scurrying about his love-almonds that produced such an effect?) as she milked the ruddy-textured sack of flesh.
Norma took a long time admiring and petting this object of unspeakable beauty that she had lusted after for so long now. It stood so straight and true and craving and, more important than anything, so close to her eager lips preparing to lave and cleanse and devour it. Oddly, it now functioned as a kind of magnet, tugging and begging the rising tide within her mouth to encircle and envelop it. She licked her dry lips.
She could hold back no longer. And neither could Roger! The poor boy's hips raised tremblingly from the sheet as he sensed that even greater stimulation and warmth than her hand awaited him. She jacked his foreskin over his gristly hard on, squeezing hard for a moment longer, and then she began kissing and lapping at the lubricant that dripped from his swollen, bulbous cock-head.
Finally, her mouth worked entirely over the rigid shaft and her son's pitiful, "MO-THERRRRRRRRR," as she took his scalding meat deep into her oral cavity nearly drove her insane with the knowledge that he knew. He knew! He knew and the pleasure was so great, so overpowering and all-consuming and incredibly pleasant that he could no longer feign sleep and this gasping admission that his own mother now mouthed his prick had come forth from the depths of his being. "MO-THERRRRRRRRR," he groaned again. Involuntary? Perhaps. But he knew! He knew ecstasy and by whom it was being delivered. She, Norma, was bringing the ultimate pleasure to her son, Roger-the love of her life!
Now Norma began the feast she had so carefully plotted. She gorged herself with all the gluttony of a half-starved gourmet. Her son's penis was a lollipop to be savored, an object to be teased, prompted, coaxed, urged. Her tongue bathed, snaked, bathed every pore of this stout rod that seemed to grow longer with each adoring lick. Nor did she spare the tender globes beneath his taut tower. No speck of flesh surrounding his testicles-no matter how remote-escaped her searching, hungry mouth. She had intended to restrain herself this first time, but she assaulted her son's genitals with a tender fury that astounded even herself. Her only regret was that Phase One of her plan did not call for her son to reciprocate.
She was certain that he was far beyond the ability to decline any action she might initiate, but she managed to adhere to her original plan. In Phase Two she could clasp him to her bosom and feel his swollen shaft plunge to the depths of her, but for now she would only drink from his flesh fountain.
She worked efficiently now, molding her mouth in a slick-wet and steady rhythm over the delicious contour of Roger's jabbing and engorged hard on ... Oh he was reciprocating ... yes, yes ... driving for the depth of her throat ... even touching her head ... pushing and groaning as his balls ached to spew forth...
He was nearly there, she could tell. She mouthed harder, making a tight glove of her mouth ... nearly there ... nearly there. THERE! A geyser of a man, her son ... brimful ... such quantity she'd never known! More and more and still more. And the blessed sounds that emerged from deep down in his throat were music to her ears as he found his release. Few mothers would ever know such total devotion to their sons, she thought as she swallowed again and again. Few mothers would ever know such complete and exquisite feelings of passion for their offspring. She drank greedily from her son and as she did so she told herself that perhaps only a very few would ever know the true meaning of ultimate joy and bliss.
It was a very long time before her son showed even the slightest change, but she remained with her head pressed against his stomach until at last he began to dwindle as all flesh must. Then she pulled his undershorts back on, covered him and kissed his cheek. He rolled over and curled up, facing the wall. She was certain he was still awake and she delivered the final, important message softly in his ear.
"I know you were sound asleep, Roger. You didn't know a thing your mother did. You couldn't help what happened because you were asleep. How could you help something you knew nothing about? It was all just a dream. Yes, a dream. But Mother will visit you again and bring you even more beautiful dreams. If you don't like the dreams you need only awake and ask Mother to go away and she will. But if you like these dreams with Mother she'll bring them to you as often as you like."
Norma Dunham kissed her son's cheek. "But of course you can't hear me because you're sound asleep, aren't you, Roger? Yes, I must be crazy talking to myself this way to a sleeping boy. I love you, my darling, and I wish you sweet drams. I wish you many, many more sweet drams-just like tonight. It's up to you, my sweet. Either you wake up or you remain asleep and dream and dream and dream. Yes, it's entirely up to you, isn't it?"
Norma Dunham tiptoed softly to the door and shut it behind her. Then she hurried for the vibrator in her dresser drawer. Thank God for the vibrator! she thought. She had to get relief! Phase One had been exquisite but frustrating. Phase Two would be different. She could hardly wait.
III
Roger awakened fully with a start.
Several minutes had passed since he had become vaguely aware of music drifting throughout the Dunham household and so his waking had been gradual-a slow emergence from deep sleep to full wakefulness. It was his mother's practice to turn on the hi-fi as she prepared their breakfasts so that her son would not be jarred from bed by an alarm clock or her own nagging to get out of bed. The music system in the house was elaborate, with speakers in practically every room. Now brisk, happy champagne music wafted its way from the ceiling speaker in Roger's room.
Roger's waking this morning was different from other mornings because, immediately, he felt consumed with guilt over last night's sexual encounter with his mother. He frowned, trying to place the sequence of events in their proper order. God, he thought; had he been dreaming, or had his mother actually rubbed his back, fondled his prick and then sucked on it until he had come? No, he was certain it hadn't been a dream. True, she often rubbed his back, kissed him goodnight and then left for her own room. But last night had been different. He was certain of it. He gripped his semi-hard cock with his hand and squeezed now, remembering the delicious tingling that had run throughout his body as his mother had mouthed his organ. He had never felt anything like that orgasm-not ever! He was glad that he had pretended to be asleep because now he wouldn't feel embarrassed when he faced her a few minutes from now.
His own mother had sucked his prick dry! he realized, astounded. His own mother! Many times, especially when he had been younger, he had indulged in sexual thoughts about her, but he had always quickly dispelled these longings quickly from his mind. You weren't supposed to think such things about your own mother and so he had not allowed his mind to dwell too long on how pretty she was (at least to him) and how nice and inviting her tits looked when he managed to sneak a glimpse as she emerged from the bathroom after her bath or whenever her robe parted in the mornings or evenings to permit him a glimpse of her cunt hair or the curve and swell of her body.
And now his mother had sucked his cock! And he had never felt anything like it before. Guilt surged through him, then subsided. What did he feel guilty about? She had thought he was asleep hadn't she? She had even told him so before she had left his room He recalled her exact words:
"I know you were sound asleep, Roger. You didn't know a thing your mother did. You couldn't help what happened because you were asleep. How could you help something you knew nothing about? It was only a dream. Yes, a dream. But Mother will visit you again and bring you even more beautiful dreams. If you don't like the dreams you need only awake and ask Mother to go away and she will. But if you like these dreams with Mother she will bring them to you as often as you like. But of course you can't hear me because you're sound asleep, aren't you, Roger? I love you my darling ... I wish you many more sweet dreams--just like tonight ... It's up to you, my sweet ... Yes, it's entirely up to you, isn't it?"
The truth was, Roger really didn't know how he felt about having sex with his mother. Apparently, all he had to do was lie there and pretend to be asleep whenever she came to his room and he could experience the most intense pleasure he had ever known. God, he had heard about girls sucking men's cocks but he had no idea it felt that good! No wonder guys talked about blow jobs all the time! It was almost just as good as fucking. In fact, in some ways it was even tighter than a pussy. He remembered how good young Sheila's cunt had felt when he'd fucked her on the couch a few days ago. Yes, fucking and sucking were both good. Fucking maybe had a slight edge over sucking though, because when you fucked you could hold on to the girl's ass and french kiss her mouth and play with her tits and everything. Also, there was something nice about having her legs around you and being on top and really slamming your cock at her cunt that was good. Yes, it was good because instead of just one person getting the hot feeling against his or her organ both of you had the good feeling at exactly the same time. He had heard about sixty-nining, though and, who knows, maybe it was about the same as fucking, he thought. He would have to try sixty-nining with somebody and find out.
Roger was fully awake now and his hard on stood out straight beneath the covers. How often did his mother plan to come to his room at night and suck his prick? he wondered. Not every night, he guessed. No, she probably meant once a week or so. Jesus, though, he had mixed feelings about it. It felt so damned good, but he felt this terrible guilt again at the thought of his mother doing things like that to his prick. Still, he decided there was no way out even if he wanted to stop her. He would just have to pretend he was asleep. Either that or seem restless and turn his back to her so that she would go away. But who in the hell wanted her to go away when it felt so damned good? Dammit! What should he do? He didn't know.
Roger stretched, got out of bed and dressed. Then he went to the bathroom and brushed his teeth and washed. A few minutes later he entered the kitchen and said good morning to his mother who was standing at the stove preparing hot cereal. She turned to face him and smiled.
"Oh, good morning, Roger," she sing-songed. "I hope the music wasn't too loud. Your orange juice and fruit is already on the table. Go ahead and start your breakfast and I'll have your cereal for you in a minute."
She's really playing it casual, Roger thought as he sat down and began eating his prunes. He gulped his juice down and stared at his mother at the stove. It seemed incredible that just last night that same mouth that had just uttered good morning so cheerfully had been wrapped around his cock, sucking his prong hard. He studied the outline of her body-the way her ass curved beneath her loose-fitting business suit and her shapely legs. He had never consciously considered fucking her this way, but for the first time in his life he found himself thinking of her as probably a good lay. He imagined her breathing hard in his ear, her legs wrapped around him and as he screwed her cunt.
The idea was appealing.
In fact, his prick stood at attention beneath the table as he allowed his sexual fantasies to develop. Yes, he decided, she would definitely be a good piece of ass-maybe sensational. He wondered why his father had ever let her divorce him. There must have been reasons he didn't know about. Adults probably developed differences that even good fucking in the bedroom couldn't overcome. Yes, that had to be the answer, because he was certain after last night that his mother was no slouch in the bedroom.
His mother placed the steaming bowl of cream of wheat on the place mat before him, patted his back and said, "Good, you finished your fruit. I'm glad you have a good appetite. Keep it up and you'll be as tall as your father."
That was an odd thing for her to say out of the blue, Roger thought. She always made small talk in the mornings, but she didn't usually mention his father. Why was she comparing him to his father? Did she see him as a kind of sexual replacement for her ex-husband in the bedroom?
Puzzled, totally confused, he spooned the cereal into his mouth and kept remembering the details of last night vividly. He could feel her smooth hands rubbing his back, then ever-so-slowly approaching his erection. Her head lay on his stomach now and she was fondling his balls, tickling them and squeezing them gently. She had slipped his undershorts off with all the skill of a quarterback tossing a short pass and she had then taken his prick teasingly into the warmth of her mouth and began twirling her darting tongue about its tip.
After a long time, she had started a steady motion that had nearly driven him out of his mind and gradually she had taken every bit of his organ into the hot recess of her mouth that she could get inside. The feeling had been so great he had not been able to remain silent and he had uttered, "Mother, Mother," despite his desire to lie still without making a sound. And then, when she had sucked and tantalized his prong for a long time, he had shot his load right into her waiting, eager mouth. The really amazing part of the whole thing was that she had not pulled away! She had continued to suck and draw on his meat as his sperm ran up his shaft and exploded into her swallowing, mewing throat. It had never occurred to him that a female might like to stay there and swallow a man's load, but his mother had writhed and tugged at his balls as though she would die if anything had interfered with her swallowing his come. It had been very difficult just lying there at the final moment. In fact, he remembered raising his buttocks from the sheet slightly to probe deeper into the hot mouth as his love juice burst into her waiting receptacle and once, he was sure, he had even touched her cheek with his hand.
Still, that couldn't have hinted anything to her. He might have been having a wet dream or something and men probably moaned and thrashed when they dreamed about fucking girls. That would strike her as perfectly natural. Sure. But if he had allowed her to know that he was awake and not sleeping, he wondered, would it have made any difference? He didn't know. She would have been trapped-caught red-handed (cock-handed) all right. Would she have just gone right on sucking him? That was a tough question to answer. One thing was certain. If she continued visiting him as she had promised and they ever got around to fucking it was going to be pretty damned hard to convince her that he was sound asleep as he mounted her and slammed his cock into her snatch!
Well, he thought, he would worry about that problem if and when it ever arose. Right now he had finished his cereal and he had a big hard on to get rid of before he stood up and left for school. For some reason, even though his mother had sucked his prick the previous night, it didn't seem right to go around displaying his hard on in front of her. He concentrated hard on making the thing return to normal and glanced at the wall clock. If he was going to be ready when Phil Kendall honked his car horn in five minutes he'd better make his cock return to normal. He decided to make conversation to help him at his task.
"Everything going all right at work?" he asked.
"Yes," his mother said, rinsing dishes and placing them in the dishwasher at the sink, "same as always I guess. There is a kind of lull now, though. There always is about now up until December and the Christmas shopping rush. How about you? Is that history teacher still giving you a bad time?"
His mother referred to Harrington, his history teacher who had given him a C at mid-term. Usually, Roger got all As (and Bs) at school but for some reason Harrington seemed to have it in for him. Even the fact that Roger's father was a national figure practically in the legal profession didn't seem to impress him.
"He's about the same, I guess," Roger said. "I'll just have to study harder from now on. He's a stickler when it comes to detail. Anything that smacks of generality bothers him. He always wants the exact date of a famous battle and the complete who, what, when, where, why of it. You can't exactly be creative with him. Mr.
Harrington wants the facts. No fooling around about it."
Roger stood up now, his erection gone, and just then Phil's horn sounded out front. He gave his mother a casual peck on the cheek, told her he was going to stop by some friends' houses after school but would be home to study well before she returned from work.
"Very well, Roger," she said, smiling, nothing out of the ordinary about her behavior as she hugged him briefly before releasing her son.
Outside, Roger slid into the sports car and bid Phil good morning. Phil was a good friend to have. Besides being old enough to drive and have his own car, he was what the girls called cute, therefore Roger found himself with a lot of girls as a result. In other words, they loitered around Phil-admiring his cleft chin, adult, confident manner, pale blue eyes, broad shoulders and so on-and as a result Roger experienced certain fringe benefits: leftovers.
Roger rammed the stick shift into first gear and peeled rubber as they swing out from the curb. "Jesus, it's colder than hell this morning," he muttered as he careened around a curve in the swank residential street. When they had turned onto the freeway and hit seventy mph, he said, "If you thought Sheila was a good lay, you just might be in for a surprise this afternoon," he said, winking lustfully. "We're going over with some of the guys to Ginny Talbot's place after school. There'll be about four girls and four guys. No squares. Everybody screws. If I can, I'll try to set you up with Ginny. I've already screwed her a couple of times and I'd like to have a shot at that new girl, Lori Bassey."
"Sure," Roger replied, grateful. Phil always seemed to be fixing him up. In fact, if weren't for Phil, Roger wouldn't have got his first piece of ass from Sheila last week. "Sounds like a winner."
Roger and Phil always discussed everything, especially girls, with complete honesty. When it came to sex they didn't spare any details. For just an instant, Roger felt an urge to tell him about last night's blow job, but of course he couldn't. How could you tell even your best friend that your own mother had sucked your cock last night?
"Ray and I will meet you for lunch in the cafeteria," Phil said "and we'll work out the details, but plan on meeting me at my car at the usual spot right on time so we can get over to Ginny's place right after school." He grinned lecherously, the experienced make-out artist instructing his neophyte buddy. "It always pays to arrive at one of these little gatherings early. You get an advantage that way. If you're late, you take a chance. It's better to get there quick and move in on the broads fast."
"Right," Roger said. "I hear you."
A few minutes later, Phil swung into the school parking lot and screeched the MG to a jerking halt. They got out, walked along the big fence that separated the driveway from the buildings and parted at the first building they came to. Phil threw his books over his shoulder. "See you at lunch," he said, looking a little like a mailman carrying his books belted together that way over his shoulder.
The morning classes passed uneventfully for Roger. He took fewer notes than usual and found himself thinking repeatedly about his sexual encounter with his mother. He wondered if his mother would come again to his room that night. In a way, he decided, if their secret sex sessions were to continue, he wished they could have some kind of schedule. For instance, if he managed to screw a girl one day there wasn't any point in his mother coming to his room that same night. This might present a real problem, too, what with the way Phil Kendall was lining him up with new girls all the time. like this afternoon, for instance. Suppose he managed to score with this Ginny Talbot? It would be kind of like having two desserts after a meal if his mother came and sucked his cock tonight.
Still, he could hardly put a note on his door and tell his mother that she would have to service him the following night because he'd already gotten laid. Well, he told himself, his mother probably didn't plan to have sex with him every night anyway. If she remained true to what she had told him last night, she would visit him about as often as he wanted. All he had to do was roll over and imply that he didn't want any sex on any particular night if he didn't feel like it.
Several times during his morning classes he found himself smiling broadly as he pondered this problem. In fact, twice he caught schoolmates looking at him strangely. It was sort of a different kind of problem to have all right. You went stalking girls your own age. If you got laid, then you postponed sex with your mother.
If you missed, then you had your mother warmed up in reserve to take care of your sexual needs. Pretty weird. Once his mother established some kind of pattern that became predictable, though, he could pace himself accordingly.
The final bell of the school day rang and Roger hastily departed Mr. Harrington's history class. Old man Harrington had lectured on a particularly dull aspect of the American Civil War today and Roger had been counting the minutes as he eagerly waited for his teacher's monotone voice to stop. At last that moment had arrived and now he was free-free to check out the pussy that would be waiting at Ginny Talbot's house!
In the parking lot, Phil's car was already warming up. Roger hopped in, tossed his books into the back and Phil backed out and hit the road. Several other cars joined them in front of the school, making a kind of caravan-a snatch parade to Ginny's house.
"Hey," Roger said, "you don't suppose Sheila will be at this thing, do you?"
"Probably not," Phil said. "Why?"
"Oh, I don't know. I'd feel sort of guilty, I guess. I screwed her last week and I haven't telephoned her or anything. If she was there I'd feel sort of obligated to be with her. Besides, I'm taking her to the Hallowe'en dance and everything."
"Roger, baby, you're going to have to learn to play the field. Never get hung up on any one broad. How can you swing with all kinds of different broads if you're going to feel obligated all the time? Take my word, Rog. Fuck 'em and forget 'em. Don't get the reputation as being an inconsiderate bastard, because girls talk, but you got to get over this being true and considerate kind of shit."
"Yeah, I guess you're right," Roger said thoughtfully. Phil was a good teacher and he wanted to follow his advice to the letter.
Ginny Talbot lived over on the other side of town from Roger. About fifteen minutes later, Phil swung his MG to the curb and they got out. Girls and guys got out of the other cars that had parked behind them and they all went up the walkway to the front door. Phil rang the doorbell and in a moment Ginny answered the door.
"Wow! You guys sure got here fast," she said. "I just this instant got home myself. Come on in."
As Roger and Phil stepped inside, Phil took Ginny by the arm and stared directly into her brown eyes. "Ginny," he said, "this is my very best friend, Roger Dunham. Be extra nice to him, will you, honey? I mean, extra nice." Phil ran his hand through Ginny's blonde hair and glanced admiringly at her luscious, firm breasts and pert little ass.
Roger sensed that Ginny would much rather be "extra nice" to Phil as she acknowledged him with a smile that seemed to say, All right, Roger, I'll be nice to you but only for Phil's sake. Roger had seen Ginny around campus often and had admired her from afar. Now he gazed at her in genuine admiration with a tingle running up and down his spine. He knew she couldn't find him completely unacceptable. After all, he didn't have two heads or anything, but he wished he possessed whatever it was that Phil seemed to have. Phil apparently had some secret weapon in addition to his unusually manly physique and handsome features. Maybe he had an extra big cock, too. Mainly, though, he seemed to have the ability to literally hypnotize females, to make a girl feel the most important thing in the world to him
The house was not large and the eight boys and girls sat on the sofa and gathered around the coffee table, several of them sitting on the floor. Ginny left the room, then returned with a bottle of red wine, some marijuana and a pipe. Everybody let out whoops at the sight of the marijuana and waited impatiently while joints were rolled and glasses were filled with the wine. Ginny put some rock records on the stereo by the Ballin' Jack and everybody took turns dragging on the marijuana cigarettes while the music blared.
"You have a groovy little pad here," Phil complimented, inhaling from the reefer he held daintily between his fingers. He passed the joint to Roger.
"Small but nice," Ginny grinned, staring at his crotch. "Not like some other things I know."
Several of the other girls giggled.
Roger had smoked grass only a few times before. Phil was not a regular pot-head either so they seldom came in contact with weed.
Truth is, Roger feared others might find him square, so he didn't refuse to suck on the joint, but he got very little reaction from grass. It seemed to make him only slightly light-headed and uncoordinated; he preferred being in control of his senses. Others though, seemed to be affected greatly. like, right now. An uninhibited mood spread throughout the group and mouths were pressed tightly together in deep soul kisses within a short period. Boys' hands roamed without restraint over girls' breasts, thighs, even massaging their cunts beneath hip-hug-gers. And the girls reciprocated by kneading the boys' stiff erections bulging inside their Levi's and corduroys. Roger had never seen such frank sexual maneuvering in such a short time. Even Ginny, sprawled out on the floor beside him grew impatient with his few restrained kisses and now pulled him by the hand so that he lay stretched out beside her. He swallowed, accepting the fact that he was no Don Juan and grateful that his one conquest, Sheila Lathrop, was not here at the party.
Sheila threw a leg over his hip and pressed both of his palms firmly against her tits. She wore no bra and almost immediately Roger's prick rose alert and ready. "Any friend of Phil's is a friend of mine," Ginny whispered hoarsely in his ear. "If the group scene bothers you, we can go back and take our clothes off in my room."
"No, no," Roger protested, the aroma of her perfume filling his nostrils as he squeezed her big tits in his hands. Over his shoulder, Roger was astounded to see that Phil's prick stood bare and dribbling for all the group to admire. The new girl at school, Lori Bassey, was either an experienced hand at group sex or else once again Phil's magnetic charm had worked its magic, for lovely Lori began jacking off Phil's prick and staring at it lovingly as she worked. Phil had his hand up her twat finger-fucking her while he sucked on her twin ivory mounds. Lori's hip-huggers lay in a heap beside her and after another few minutes of foreplay Phil lay Lori back so that the hip-huggers served as a pillow for her red hair.
Everywhere, people were in various stages of undress and fondling one another's bodies. Sounds of passion and heavy breathing could be heard whenever a recording came to the end. Roger and Ginny were well behind the pace of the group sexually and Roger hoped Ginny didn't think him too slow a lover. Despite himself, he was still a little shy and it bothered him somewhat to be with another girl so soon after fucking Sheila, not to mention his affair with his own mother the previous night.
Ginny was not too impatient though and didn't seem to find his reticence annoying. Finally, though, she did step things up by clutching at his hard on. She squeezed it like a sponge and emitted a little squeal of delight. "Umm, you have a nice big one, Roger," she purred. "I knew Philsie wouldn't tell me to be nice to a boy who didn't have something special. Suck on my titties, will you? Suck on them nice and gentle at first while I take your cock out and play with that big whanger and balls. This is a treat."
Roger complied, lifting up Ginny's blouse so that he could mouth her erect nipples and tease them with his tongue. He began to lap more and more greedily, drawing each brown hungry nipple deep into his mouth while Ginny's tickling hands brought his engorged rod to the absolute bursting point. She knew what to do with a cock all right and in a matter of minutes Roger was near coming. He held her wrist suddenly to prevent his premature ejaculation and lay panting hard in her ear.
"Ummm," Ginny cooed. "I love a boy who doesn't get so excited he comes all over you before he even gets it in. You are nice. Where have you been hiding, anyway?"
'I've been waiting for you," Roger said, trying to play the role of veteran lover.
With that, Ginny slid her hip-huggers down over her ankles and then slipped her panties off, too. "Any time you want, lover," she breathed. "Your tongue, your cock, whatever ... any place you want...."
She lay with her head turned to the side, breathing hard and waiting for Roger to have his way with her. Roger stared at the patch of blonde pubic hair and her rounded tummy and her long legs that were parted in readiness. He was just about to begin licking at her stomach in preparation for mouthing her tantalizing cunt when he heard loud sucking behind him. The records had come to a stop-the stack having played-and there were sounds of suction and moaning pleas all about him. Still, there was one very loud, special sucking noise directly behind him. He turned and saw that Lori, the newcomer, was bug-eyed with lust and greedily gobbling Phil's hunk of meat furiously. She seemed at the point of hysteria as she tongued and squeezed the pulsing male organ.
First, she would shove Phil's cock into her mouth as if she wanted to take it all the way down into her stomach, and then she would stare at it adoringly and run her tongue tip about its head and foreskin as she watched the expression of rapture on Phil's face.
Impatient now, Ginny sat up to see what was holding Roger up. She sighted Lori making a meal of Phil's crotch and said: "Watching is fun, but let's you and me have some fun of our own, okay? Still, it is fun to watch, huh? Beautiful, too. Come on. Kiss my snatch a little and I'll lick your dick. Then we'll get down to some real fucking, Roger."
Roger looked about him at the boys and girls getting down to serious sex play. Why was he always so damned shy? he asked himself. Here was a girl begging to do anything and everything with him and he was anxious to indulge in any sexual activity either of them could imagine. Why, then, did her willingness shock him slightly. He wanted what she wanted, so what was he waiting for? Was it that he had fucked Sheila a few days ago? Yes, he guessed that had something to do with his feelings. Grow up, he told himself. Everybody around is hot and ready and eager to fuck and suck, so grow up and get going.
Ginny seemed to sense his inner conflict and, following his gaze to the other members of the party, said: "See, there's nothing to be afraid of. You're a handsome boy and nobody is going to hurt you. It's a beautiful afternoon and we're going to make each other feel good. I like you and I want you very much. I really do like you, Roger, not just because Phil asked me to be nice to you. All right?"
"What shall we do first?" Roger asked, breathing faster.
"Everything."
"What that boy is doing to that girl?" Roger suggested, looking at the boy they called Flip eating a chubby girl's cunt.
"Umm-hmm."
"And what Lori is doing to Phil? And what that couple is doing there on the floor?" The couple on the floor was fucking dog-style.
"I already told you we can do anything, Roger." She giggled. "I think you just like to hear me say it again because it sort of turns you on, right?"
Roger considered this. Maybe she was right. "Yeah, I guess so," he admitted.
"Okay then, come on," she coaxed, fondling his cock harder.
Even for a veteran sex party girl, Ginny was amazing. When Roger began sucking hard, very hard, on her ripe full breasts, she clamped him hard around his neck and urged him on with desperate pleas. He used all the skill at his command to excite this new sex partner while she took out his cock and began fondling his prick and balls with a devotion he knew had to be genuine. Soon, he was dripping all over the floor and her hands but he didn't care. He massaged her pussy for a while, then slipped off her hip-huggers and worked his hand up from her bare knees and began lightly stroking her satin-smooth inner-thighs before he finally stroked the sopping wet treasure of her tight pussy. Her cunt felt every bit as tight as Sheila's slit.
Ginny squeezed harder on his organ, stroking it faster in a steady up and down motion. "It's really a beautiful thing you have, Roger," she breathed. "You have a nice strong thing and-and what you're doing-it-it drives me crazy. Don't put it in yet, please? Let's-let's play a while longer before you stick your cock inside me, please?"
"All right," Roger said, grateful for whatever advice he could get from a more experienced partner. "Sure, I guess there's lots of time so-so there's no use in hurrying. We'll-we'll just take it easy."
"Good," Ginny said. "I'm glad you're not one of those boys who just wants to stick it in and come quick. Ummm...."
To his amazement, Ginny's experience had calmed him so that he ventured to say and do things which would have been impossible with a less understanding partner. He told her how much he wanted to taste between her legs and how much he had liked sucking her tits. He told her how beautiful it felt having her hands playing with his cock and nuts. Words and phrases he had never dared utter to anyone began flowing naturally from his mouth and the realization that he was suddenly less inhibited than ever before excited him to a frenzy. Also, in a way, he found himself wanting to be a kind of super lover, a craftsman. He wanted to drive her out of her mind the way Phil had driven the newcomer, Lori, out of her mind.
The grass was working. As though by magic his dream of exciting her to the heights began to happen! He could tell by her heaving tits and belly caving in and out that she craved everything he said: she wanted his tongue-his tongue-inside her cunt, and she wanted his cock to fill her steaming vagina just the way he described it. He kept on, repeating his innermost desires and descriptions of what he wanted to do to her as he massaged her body and she began moaning loudly and biting at his ears and neck. Finally, he made a platform with one hand beneath her ass and began manipulating her pubic mound with the other hand as his mouth drew nearer and nearer to her love hole. When he began nuzzling her fragrant snatch she began pumping uncontrollably with her hips and sighing, her hands clutching at his hair.
Ever so slowly, he allowed his eager tongue to lightly dart about her labia, teasingly, tantalizingly, with a skill he had never dreamed himself capable, until his hand beneath her buttocks was drenched with her gushing love juice. He engulfed each lip of her dripping cunt in his mouth and ran his tongue up and down the length of her fiery chasm. Now, he sensed, it was time to concentrate on her clitoris. He parted her slit with his fingers and took her large clit into his mouth. Instantly she was transported off into a land of ecstasy, pressing her pelvis at his lips like some mad woman who needed an orgasm worse than a thirst-crazed man needs water or a starving man craves food. She had to achieve a climax-had to!
Ginny was tearing at his hair, gasping in total and utter need for fulfillment. She had to come and he loved delivering what she had to have. Although he had never touched a girl's rectum, his finger now found its way to her tight anus and began wiggling back and forth, tickling, while he continued tonguing her tingling clit.
"Oh, Roger! Nobody-nobody ever did that to me ... it's heaven ... I never-never felt anything like-like that before..."
Her cries rose even louder than Sheila's had the afternoon on his living room couch, piercing and crashing through the room. She shuddered desperately and then she pushed his head away.
"No! No! I almost came, but I want your cock inside me, Roger. I want your big beautiful cock to make me come. I want you to shoot off inside of me, too, so that it feels the same for both of us at the same time."
Roger prepared to mount her, but suddenly she stopped him and grabbed him about the waist. Trembling all over, she panted with her head against his stomach. "Oh, I-I don't know what it is I want. I-I want everything. I want you to fuck me but I want to suck you, too. Oh, what shall I do?"
She emitted a frightening little squeal then-a pitiful sound of confusion and conflicting desire-and dove for his prick. With a strength Roger had not believed possible in a girl, she threw him onto his back and began mouthing his organ-devouring his balls and lapping at his cock. Finally, she took his stout whanger in her hand and stuffed it into her mouth. Her head bobbing in urgent rhythm, she began shoving his tool in and out of her feverish mouth, babbling incoherently at the same time.
When he was just about to come-so close that he felt as though his balls would explode-he pulled her starving mouth from his rod under protest and lay her on her back. Her semen-drenched mouth found his cheek and began showering it with kisses. "Fuck me! Fuck me! Please fuck me!" she babbled.
If possible, her cunt was even mushier than before when he'd been gobbling it. He placed the head of his gristle hunk at the entrance of her hole and slowly began feeding the length of it into the hot wet of her. He held her legs up high and watched his prick until it was in all the way to the hilt. Then, still watching, he fucked her slowly and deliberately, reveling in plunging his aching shaft in and out of her oven-hot twat.
"Roger," she moaned. "Oh, what cock! Oh, that big, hot cock right up my hole! Pump it at me hard. I want to feel it all the way up to my tummy!"
Doris began rotating her hips insanely so that her velvet-smooth pussy massaged every pore of Roger's penis. They went on talking, making "fuck-talk" and staring into each other's eyes as they moved. Roger had never dreamed himself capable of such lack of inhibition before. Here he was fucking for the second time in his life and all thought that he might not be doing everything just right had left him. He reveled in the sheer pleasure of a male inside a female with total abandon.
"Does-does it feel real nice?" Ginny asked him, gasping.
"Oh, you know it does. It's-it's better than anything in the world," he said.
"Does it really-really feel that good? Tell me! Tell me?" she asked, already knowing the answer, Roger knew, but wanting to hear him say it anyway.
"Yes, we're fucking ... fucking ... fucking. I don't care about anything but just fucking you right now. I don't care about school or anything. All I care about is just fucking you this minute, Ginny."
"I love it when you tell me things like that," Ginny said. "Boys never talk much when they fuck me." She blinked her eyes rapidly as her hips worked methodically, grinding the heat of her snatch over his cock so that it moved from side to side inside of her. It was unbelievably slippery and hot and it clenched his stiff tool with an almost vise-like grip.
"I can feel you up there," she said. "I'm squeezing with my cunt muscles. Can you feel it? It's nice and stiff and I love to squeeze it with my muscles this way and ride it and ride it like this and feel it sticking way up there. Pretty soon you'll shoot your sperm-all your white stuff-way up in me and it will feel good, won't it? It will feel better than anything, won't it? Can you feel me squeezing your cock with my cunt, Roger? Can you? Tell me if you can."
"Yes, I can feel you squeezing," he said. "It-it feels better than anything. I liked thatthat squeezing my prick that way."
"You know something, Roger."
"What?"
"I like doing this-fucking, I mean-better than anything. I'd rather fuck than do anything. I-I'd like to just fuck all the time. Would you?"
"Yes-yes," Roger breathed. "I-I'd like to just fuck all the time, too."
Plunging his rod between Ginny's inviting pink, cunt lips-feeling her squeezing his prick with her vaginal walls this way was driving him to a point of insanity. He could no longer carry on a running conversation with Ginny because his brain just wouldn't work anymore. He couldn't think or reason. He could only plunge harder and deeper and feel, feel, feel, not think anymore. He hoped she understood that he couldn't carry on a conversation anymore. She didn't complain, though, and she had stopped asking him questions, so he guessed just fucking was satisfying both of them.
Kevin grasped the cheeks of her ass harder in both of his hands, kneaded and clutched harder, plunging, plunging, thrusting with all his might into the oven-depths of her as he satisfied her hoarsely whispered (unintelligible now) demands in his ear. She was spewing words he had never thought girls even knew now and he thought again and again: I'm fucking. I'm fucking. My cock is inside a cunt and I'm fucking.
Suddenly, without warning, she ceased her frantic, twisting pumping motion and began gripping his cock with her cunt muscles again, milking his bursting member teasingly. He did not understand how she could change her tempo at will and play what amounted to games at a time like this. And then she was off again, riding and shoving her ass up from the floor to meet his driving pelvis, spreading her legs to the breaking point and grinding her heaving tummy against his stomach and grinding her cunt lips against his pubic hair so that she could feel every inch of his rock-hard cock against her inner pleasure hole.
Roger felt as though every speck of his swollen, bone-hard pole was sopping up her love juice, like a sponge, sucking out the heat from her cavern, her scalding flesh that squished and scraped against his tingling organ. Holding back slightly, Roger guessed because of the others in the room, Ginny's ecstatic whimpering grew louder and shriller despite herself, and when she began coming (he knew intuitively, instinctively that she was coming even before she told him) her hoarse, guttural whispers became pleading breath-whines. "ROGER! Roger. Oh now. This is the best ever. The best! Now ... Oh, Roger ... NOW!
For an instant, Roger felt as though the top of his head would blow off, explode into fragments, and his balls would disintegrate as the delicious orgasmic current racked both of their spasming bodies. They lay there, clasped tightly together, spent and panting, until finally Ginny said. "Roger, that was the best fuck I ever had. Honest."
Applause jarred both of them and they realized that they had been fucking for a long time to an audience. The boom of hands clapping made Roger's erection dwindle to nothing at once and he felt embarrassment. Apparently everybody else had finished and had just sat there watching the thrashing young couple copulate and make fuck-talk on the floor. Roger rolled over and his prick made a popping sound as it slid from Ginny's vagina. Both of them dressed hastily and sat up on the floor again.
"I heard you, Ginny," Phil said, grinning. "Here I thought I was the best lay you ever had and you go and tell Roger he's the best." He winked at Roger. "Looks like my best friend is my competitor for the title King of the Studs."
Everybody laughed, including the newcomer Lori who looked disheveled from her fuck-and-suck session with Phil. "As far as I'm concerned, you're tops. The best I ever had, anyway," Lori said. "I don't know, though. I'm sort of inexperienced. Maybe I ought to give Roger a try and make a-a comparison."
The group howled at this, and Phil gave her a tender slap on her bare ass. "Oh, no you don't," Phil said. "I've already lost one admirer to the Fuck King there and I don't intend to risk losing another."
They smoked some more grass and finished off the last of the wine as they talked for fifteen minutes or so. Then, apologetically, Ginny said: "I hate to ruin a good thing, gang, but both of my parents work and my mother'll be home from work in half an hour. We'd better call it a day." S
Everybody helped straighten the living room up and then, smiling and thanking their hostess, they left. Minutes later, as Phil and Roger drove toward Roger's house, Roger said, "Jesus, I'd heard about sex parties, but I always figured they were for college kids or adults. This bunch is really something. They fuck in front of each other and everything."
Phil laughed. "Stick with me, pal. I have a nose for sniffing out the action. So you enjoyed yourself, huh?"
"Enjoyed myself? That Ginny is fantastic! Do most girls fuck like her? "
"Unfortunately, no. She's pretty special all right. That's why I introduced you to her. Still, she seemed to be pretty impressed with you. I'd say you have the makings of a genuine cocks-man, Rog."
Roger blushed proudly. Coming from Phil, that was quite a compliment. He hoped the group would get together again soon. Secretly, he was anxious to give that new girl, Lori, a good fucking. She had indicated that she might be willing, even if jokingly, and he was truly beginning to think of himself as competition for Phil.
When Phil pulled the MG up in front of Roger's house, Roger got out and thanked Phil for including him in the fuck party. "Don't mention it," Phil said. "Good to see you get your feet wet-get a little experience. Correction. Not feet wet. I mean, cock wet."
They both laughed.
"Oh, and you don't have to worry about getting any of those girls pregnant either. They all take the Pill. I just thought you might like to know. Well, so long. See you tomorrow morning at the same time."
"Right," Roger said and turned and walked up the driveway as Phil's car roared away.
"Cocksman," Roger said aloud as he turned the key in the front door. "Cocksman." He rather liked the sound of the word. Yes, he had indeed been a cocksman today and he had every intention of continuing to live up to the name.
IV
It was nearly five o'clock and already getting dark when Norma Dunham arrived home after shopping.
Usually she left the job of marketing for Lila, the maid, but Lila had been complaining lately of a backache and so Norma had told her to skip this chore. "I'll do the grocery shopping myself, dear," Norma had said. Now, however, as Norma made three trips from her car to the kitchen with the brown grocery bags, she wasn't so sure volunteering to go to the market had been such a good idea. She was getting a backache herself!
She had just finished putting the meat, frozen vegetables and all the odds and ends she had purchased away in the cupboards and the refrigerator when she sighted the note from Roger on the kitchen table. Have gone over to the park to play football with Phil and Ray, the note read. I'll try to be home early, but I may be home late. Roger. P.S. Don't worry about me.
Well, he probably won't be too late, Norma thought, and it is Saturday. He's entitled to a little recreation with his friends. She threw the note in the wastebasket, then took the over-size leaf of pin-up photos into Roger's room. She had felt slightly embarrassed buying the calendar with all the naked and semi-naked girls on it for Roger, but she knew having such a calendar in his room instead of all those baby things they had thrown out last week would make him feel adult and happy. The clerk had looked at her a little strangely, she thought, when she had bought the calendar and she had explained that it was for her son. Now, she selected a spot on the wall just opposite the foot of Roger's bed and pressed the pin-up calendar into the wall with a thumb tack. It held and she stood back and stared at the curvaceous blonde with the big breasts leering back at her seductively. Yes, Roger would appreciate this surprise. She was certain of it. Perhaps it would even stimulate him and make her future approaches just that much easier for her.
Norma sat down on Roger's bed and counted on her fingers. One, two, three, four, five. Yes, it had been five days since she had visited his room at bedtime and made her first sexual contact with her son. And oh what a contact it had been! Even better than she had hoped for. He had feigned sleep and let her do what she wanted with his young, firm body. She allowed her mind to recall the exquisite details of the sexual encounter. She retraced each step of the seduction from rubbing his back to fondling his genitals. The thought of his firm, large erection in her hands as she stroked it and then nursed on it until he achieved a bursting orgasm. He had lifted his buttocks up from the mattress uncontrollably to pierce the wet warmth of her mouth and then, so beautifully, he had shot his delicious sperm into her throat and she had drank from her own son. Her very own son had ejaculated and quivered all over, thanks to her deft manipulation.
One, two, three, four, five, she counted again. Yes, it had been five days since his last orgasm (at least she hoped that had been his last orgasm). Of course, a boy his age might have masturbated once or twice during that time, but masturbation didn't really count.
Masturbation just released tensions that built up in the body. But another body-the warmth and excitement of another human being bringing you to completion was an entirely different matter. If masturbation would do the trick, why would people go to such lengths to make body contact with another body? Indeed, why would she, Norma Dunham, be plotting Phase Two of her plan to seduce her son again? This time, she thought, there would be orgasms for both of them. This time she would feel her son's manhood, so throbbing and anxious, penetrating her vagina. True, she might mouth his organ again during the preliminaries, but ultimately she would lie naked in bed beside her boy, feel his strong arms about her, the eager thrust of his hips against her own, hear his breath rasping in her ear and finally feel his body jolt as he achieved the blessed release all males craved as his hot sperm fired into the depths of her vagina. That would be the moment she had dreamed of for a long time now.
The fifth day, she thought. Time for Phase Two. Again, she would move to attain her goal after Roger had gone to bed. Fortunately, he had no date tonight and so he would be home and there for the taking. She would enter his room just as before, begin by rubbing his back, and then proceed to fondle him to the point of arousal. There was no reason, actually, to believe that her plan would not work. He had let her suck on his organ until he had reached orgasm before.
The only difference this time was that he would have to cooperate a bit more if she were to have him mount her. She planned the exact words she would use to coax him to insert his penis into her vagina. Everything hinged-the entire success of the plan depended-on her assuring him that he was asleep. If he went along with this one all-important aspect of her approach, then the rest would be most simple. She considered the possibilities.
Quite possibly she would have to fuck him this first time with herself on top. That way he would not have to exert himself so much, and the illusion that he was asleep could more easily be maintained. She wasn't sure though. It was all speculation. She would have to wait to see and take the situation as it came.
Norma stood up and smoothed the bedspread of her son's bed lovingly; smiled down and imagined the scene that would take place there later tonight. Then she went into the living room and turned on the TV and tuned it for the evening news. When the brisk-voiced announcer came into view, she returned to the kitchen and got everything ready to prepare dinner when Roger arrived. Her boy would be hungry, maybe famished, after playing football and she didn't want to keep her growing boy waiting. She set the steaks out on the sink to defrost and assembled the vegetables and things for the salad. Then she returned again to the living room and sat down.
The news was depressing. Why did everybody seem to be at war all over the world? All those handsome, firm young men had to leave their mothers and go abroad and risk getting killed instead of staying home where it was safe so that they could pursue their respective careers.
Worst of all, all these young men who were right at the peak of their sex drives had to go and be exposed to foreign women who prostituted themselves for the American dollar. Yes, and some of the more ambitious ones even talked these young men into marrying them and taking them back to the United States where life was comfortable. Venereal disease ran rampant, too.
Norma Dunham sighed. For an instant she visualized an entire army of naked men plunging their penises-their firm buttocks bobbing up and down-into the vaginas of foreign girls. Such a waste! Yes, it was despicable. She hoped Roger never had to go and serve in the military and be exposed to that kind of sexual savagery. She did not want her precious boy over there running the risk of getting killed and even if he did escape such a fate, fucking all those foreign girls.
Local girls were bad enough! No, Roger belonged home here in the States with her where the two of them could learn to share beautiful times together.
They would lie side by side naked-just the two of them-and secretly develop the most wonderful intimacy the world had ever known. But of course the world would know nothing about it because it would be their beautiful, delicious secret. Their love would grow to fantastic heights and they would make love, yes blissful, tender, passionate love forever. Oh how they would fuck! No poet could would ever be able to describe the wonderful things they would do to each other's body.
Suddenly Norma realized she had been staring at the television but not even watching it. Well, it was just as well. Too many terrible things were happening in the world today: violence, lack of law and order, death, ugliness everywhere one turned. It occurred to her that she might be just a little bit strange. This was not a new idea to her. She was fully aware that most mothers did not consciously plan to seduce their sons. Also, she was aware that most mothers, even if they did harbor such desires where their sons were concerned, did not plan to interfere with their boys going off eventually and taking wives, having children, leading normal lives. It was true that the relationship she planned for herself and Roger was most unnatural, but somehow she felt that the two of them were a thing apart. They, and only they, would be able to bring it off. As long as she realized that her plans for Roger and herself weren't normal, everything would be all right. It was the people who thought they were normal and weren't who were candidates for the nut house. My one great advantage, she told herself, is that I know that my plans are not normal and are universally shunned by every society in the world. Still, despite this knowledge, I want my son sexually and I openly admit it. I care nothing about grandchildren or any of that hogwash. I want my son's body for myself and I proclaim this openly to myself.
Norma Dunham glanced at her watch. It was nearly five-thirty and still Roger was not home. Sometimes, if he saw that he was going to be late, he would telephone her. Well, she didn't want to be a nag, she told herself. God knows men put up with enough from nagging wives. She certainly didn't want to become a nagging mother! That's all she needed to turn Roger off, to send him out into the world of other women.
She visualized her son now, and as she did so she began rubbing her firm breasts. She ran her fingernails over the nipples through the flimsy material of her blouse, coaxed them erect. "Ummmm," she moaned aloud. Soon, any day now, Roger would be doing this to her, she thought. Then, staring blankly at the TV screen, she dropped one hand to her lap and lifted her skirt and began rubbing her hand up and down her leg. As she did this, she pretended that she were a man preparing a woman for' love, inching his hand up to the treasure of a female's vagina.
The idea excited her and she continued until her finger traced the outline of her pussy beneath her panties. Gently, very gently, she then pushed her panties aside and let her finger work its way into the heat of her steaming crease. She was very slippery and lubricating nicely now and she was positive she knew just how men felt when they finally reached the hole they valued so highly, the gushing slit they craved to slide their pulsing erections into. Carried away by her fantasy, she began thinking of Roger and began openly masturbating. She visualized his erection standing out in front of him-no, she changed that-she visualized it sticking up in the air as he lay on his back, just the way it had been that night she had sucked him off.
Norma's finger began massaging more firmly and urgently against her clitoris now, the tempo of her hand increasing as little anticipatory waves of pleasure spread throughout the lower half of her body-her rectum, her womb, all the way up to her breast where her other hand still groped at her nipple. Her breath came faster, faster, very fast, faster yet, and then she stopped abruptly and hunched in the chair gasping.
What on earth had possessed her? she wondered. Tonight was the night to have all-out sex with Roger. She didn't want to have an orgasm now. Still, it did feel very, very good, and she toyed with the idea of going into the bedroom and finishing herself off with the vibrator. It wouldn't hurt to come now and then come again with Roger when he went to bed. There wasn't anything wrong with having two orgasms within a matter of hours. She'd done it lots of times.
But she decided against this. No, she wanted to save herself for this very special occasion tonight with her son. Still breathing heavily, she forced herself to abandon any notion of making herself come and ceased massaging her breast. She let the crotch of her panties return to normal, too, and straightened her skirt down over her knees.
She stood up to insure that she would not yield to temptation and went over and changed the channel on the television to some shallow situation-comedy that would take her mind off Roger and the urgings of her body. She had just returned to her chair when she heard Roger enter through the kitchen door. Her heart still beat rapidly from her near orgasm, but at the sound of Roger's arrival it raced even faster. She glanced over her shoulder just as he entered the living room.
"Hi, Mom," he said.
"Hello, dear," she said cheerfully, smiling. Then her smile changed to a frown. Roger was filthy. His trousers were grass stained and his tee-shirt was slightly torn. She caught herself and smiled again. "Well, it looks as though the football session got a little rougher than usual."
Roger stared down at himself and nodded. "Yeah, we had about fifteen guys there and we played tackle. Sorry I'm late and I-I didn't mean to make such a mess of my clothes."
Norma forced her smile even further as she studied the outline of her son's thick, long penis hanging down his trouser leg. She swallowed. What a splendid specimen of a boy-man, she thought. Boys played football. There was no stopping them. As long as they didn't get kicked in their precious testicles or do anything that might damage their beautiful, beautiful cocks or impair their ability to make a woman happy sexually-well, she guessed that was all right.
Besides the exercise made them just that much more masculine, enriched the deep timbre of their voices and made their arms and shoulders and thighs that much stronger so that they could raise and lower themselves more authoritatively as they drove their muscled torsos to even greater fury in the act of loving a woman. My man, my man, she thought. The man who will fuck me tonight. My son!
"That's quite all right," Norma said indulgently. "Why don't you just slip out of those dirty things and leave them in the laundry hamper. Lila will wash them Monday. Take a shower, dear. Then slip into something fresh and comfy and I'll fix you dinner. You must be starving."
"Yeah, I'm really starving. Beat, too."
Norma stood and went to her son and gave him a long kiss on the cheek. He smelled masculine and the odor of his exercised body aroused her. "No matter," she said. "You can get to bed early tonight and get a good night's rest. After supper you'll be as good as new. I'll even rub your back before you go to sleep and take out all that ache in your muscles."
His eyes met hers as she said this and his recognition as to the significance of what she was saying was unmistakable. Yes, she was certain that mentioning she would rub his back had alerted him that she intended to pursue their sexual relationship of four nights ago. Good, she thought. Men improved when they had time to get psychologically ready for impending sexual contact. The notion would grow in his mind and the anticipation of the pleasure he had experienced last Monday would make him just that much more eager for tonight's orgasm.
Men were like that, she knew.
His balls would ready themselves. Every sexual nerve and fibre of his being would await release, and then, when she reentered his room, he would be helpless putty in her hands. Of course, if he feared the upcoming contact with her-if he had resolved to put an end to her sexual advances-this planting in his mind of what was to come could work in the opposite direction, too. Still, she was certain that Roger-indeed, few males she had ever known-could have such a pleasurable orgasm and not look forward to another one of a similar kind.
He dropped his gaze from her eyes now. "Whatever you say, Mother," he said and turned and left the room.
Minutes later, Norma heard the shower going in his bathroom. She went out to the service porch and saw that he had left his dirty clothing on top of the laundry hamper. She opened the lid and bunched the clothing up in her hands. Before she tossed the soiled garments into the hamper she held them to her face and inhaled the odor of her son's body deeply into her lungs. Then she shut the lid and went to the kitchen to fix dinner.
It was late. Right after dinner, Roger had taken a history book from his room and had been reading it ever since. Just like his father, he loved history. Especially ancient history. The television had been on for several hours now and he hadn't even glanced at it. She glanced at her watch. It was slightly early for bed, but he had played football hard and might be getting tired. He had yawned several times already.
"So you like the surprise Mother bought you today?" she said, referring to the pin-up calendar in his room. She let a trace of mischief show in her eyes purposely.
He looked up and grinned. She could tell he was a little embarrassed. "Yeah, that's really something. Uh-didn't you feel funny buying it? I mean, a woman doesn't usually go and buy something like that."
"Well, just a little, maybe," she said, "but I knew my boy wanted it so I just went ahead and bought it anyway. Pretty sexy, eh?"
"I'll say. I guess I'll have to get undressed with my back to the thing. I wouldn't want any of those naked women to get a peek at me."
Norma Dunham laughed. "No, we wouldn't want that, would we? After all, you are a man now. We don't want you getting raped in your room by one of those man-crazy females."
He really looked embarrassed now. She had used the word rape intentionally. For shock effect. It was about time they opened up and talked like adult men and women instead of mother and son all the time. Everything was proceeding perfectly. Things couldn't be better, Norma thought, pleased at the progress.
"No, we don't want you getting assaulted by one of those calendar girls," Norma continued. She laughed. "You are a very handsome boy, you know. Yes, I'd say you better keep your back to that calendar."
"Oh, Mother!" he said.
"You are handsome, Roger. Why should I lie to you when it's the truth? You should be glad you're good-looking. Who wants to be ugly?"
He didn't answer.
Norma yawned. She didn't feel the least bit tired but she forced a yawn anyway. "Well, you had a hard day. Want to turn in a bit early? I'll rub your back if you like."
He fidgeted on the couch and swallowed. Norma was certain she knew what was crossing his mind. His body was remembering the feelings it had experienced with her. It was telling him-commanding him-to say yes so that it could once again experience the sexual release of four nights ago.
"Yes," he said finally. "I am pretty tired. I-I think maybe I will hit the sack early." He paused and when he spoke Norma's heart sang with joy. His answer could not have been more encouraging. "I'll probably drop off to sleep in a flash-before my head even hits the pillow. Yeah, I'll probably sleep like a rock."
He didn't look at her as he spoke. He didn't have to. Every intonation of his voice told Norma precisely what she wanted to know. She had conditioned him by telling him that she would have sex with him and all he had to do was pretend to be asleep. He knew this and he couldn't resist. It had felt too good. His balls had exploded with such pleasure and force that he couldn't resist when all he had to do was pretend to be asleep. He could be just as guiltless as he chose to be. And after all, the morning after their first sexual encounter she had behaved just as though nothing had happened, hadn't she? Therefore, he knew that no embarrassment-none whatsoever-lay ahead of him if only he pretended to be asleep or dreaming when she entered his room tonight.
He stood up and kissed his mother casually on the cheek. "Goodnight, Mom," he said. "Thanks again for that calendar."
"It was my pleasure, love. I'll be in after a while to rub your back. I want to freshen up and get into my robe first. If you're already asleep-well, I'll just give you a goodnight kiss and skip rubbing your back. Or maybe I'll even rub you anyway. Your body's probably sore and the massage might do you good even if you're asleep and can't feel it."
Roger was staring at her, thinking, not knowing what to say. "Yeah, I guess so," he replied finally. "Maybe you're right. Well, if I am asleep I'll-I'll just see you in the morning. Night."
"Goodnight, dear. I'm sure you'll have pleasant dreams if you do fall asleep."
Roger fled from the room and Norma almost squealed with delight. She knew her son would be lying there waiting for her, each moment sheer torture until she slipped stealthily into his room. She got up and went to her bedroom and changed into her sheer nightgown. Then she sprayed cologne all over herself-from head to toe. She had toyed with the idea of bathing, but that would take too long. She absolutely couldn't wait. Roger was eager and she didn't want to keep him waiting any longer than necessary-just long enough to make his pretense of being asleep believable. No longer. Besides, knowing the male animal as she did, he would be anxious for her arrival, bath or no bath!
Norma studied herself in the mirror admiringly for a moment, smiling. Then she sat down on her bed and leafed through a magazine. She longed to rush to Roger's room, but she couldn't go to her son this quickly. They both knew exactly what was going to happen but, in the last analysis, they were involved in a game and even this game had rules which had to be observed. If there were no rules she would simply say:
"Let's go to bed and make love, son." And he would reply: "Yes, Mother, let's fuck." That's all there would be to it. But unfortunately there were still rules. Later perhaps, she hoped, they could abandon the rules altogether-that was her dream-but for now the damn rules had to be followed.
Impatiently, glancing at the wall clock from time to to time, Norma continued paging through the magazine. Finally, she determined that sufficient time had elapsed and put the magazine aside. She checked herself in the mirror one final time and tiptoed down the hall toward Roger's room. At the doorway, she paused and listened.
Silence.
Not a sound. Not even snoring. She peeked in and saw that Roger was lying on his back. She wondered if he had an erection. He lay perfectly still, his pillow bunched up beneath his head and his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm, though he did seem to be breathing faster than usual. Well, she didn't blame him for that! Her own heart beat frantically against her ribs and she could hear the rasp of her own breath. Why, oh why couldn't she just go and slip into bed beside him and fondle and cuddle with him? She couldn't though. Things had gone too perfectly until now to let herself get carried away now and ruin everything.
She went barefoot across the carpet to his bed and sat down. She touched his shoulder, timidly at first, then bolder. What was she frightened about? She had been with him four nights ago and, anyway, she had told him she would be in to rub his back. Still, she found herself freezing up now that the crucial moment was near. Tonight was the night she would have his body completely and totally.
"Roger?" she whispered. "Are you awake, darling?"
No answer. His chest began moving faster though, and she knew he was awake.
"Mother told you she would be in to rub your back and she's here now, darling? Mother told you something else several nights ago, too, but you were sound asleep and couldn't hear her. She made beautiful love to you while you were asleep and promised to return again. I am your nighttime lover, sweetheart, and I've returned to make you happier than any boy your age has ever been before. I am going to move you around a bit but you're so tired I know you won't wake up. You may move around a little but that's only because you're dreaming. I won't let it frighten me away. I'll just go ahead and do wonderful things to my baby that I love to do to him. If you do wake up and tell me to go away, though, I will. I don't want to frighten you. Just relax and let Mommy touch and play with you. Can you hear me?"
Roger's chest moved very rapidly now but still he didn't answer. Norma slipped her hand under the covers and, without even making any pretense of rubbing her son's back, immediately began tickling his chest. And then, to her delight, without even touching him below the waist, she saw that his erection stood so tall and firm it made a veritable tent pole beneath the covers. Ah, she thought, he's so anxious for his mother to begin playing with his penis it already stands hard and waiting.
Nevertheless, she decided to heighten his excitement by indulging in some foreplay before allowing her fingers to clasp the hot prick she desired to fondle, kiss, take into the waiting heat of her vagina. She played with his pectoral muscles, massaging his little nipples erect and blew in his ear and tongued and nibbled at his lobes. She bit him, too, and then began showering his cheeks with breathy, wet kisses, finally kissing him full on the mouth lingeringly. Slowly, she parted his lips and inhaled the scent of his young, sweet breath. Then, as her hand worked tantalizingly up and down his leg and over his stomach, she probed with her tongue between his lips and began soul-kissing his mouth, simulating the motion of the male organ entering the female vagina.
Involuntarily, Roger groaned and at that instant Norma let her fingertips gently brush against his bursting hard on. He shuddered as she tickled its head. Then she ran her index finger about in a circular motion in the ooze that her son had emitted for a while before settling down to gentle squeezes up and down the entire length of his rigid stalk of meat. She went on that way, gradually grasping his member harder and stroking the foreskin ever so tenderly, making occasional departures to fondle his big balls as she whispered:
"You're sound asleep, my darling, aren't you? But it does feel good, doesn't it? Better than anything. That's it. Just lie there sleeping while Mommy plays with her big man's stout prick. Remember what she did last time? No, of course you don't-because you were asleep then, too, weren't you? Well, Mommy's going to do that same thing with her mouth to your beautiful prick, love. She's going to do that again-and more! Yes, much more! Oh, my love. You're asleep, I know, but there's some part of you that can hear me. Something way down deep inside you can hear and enjoy what's going on. I just know it. Ummm, what a beautiful hard on my big man has. It's gorgeous. The most beautiful prick in the world. Mommy's going to kiss it now. She's going to kiss it and taste it, and then she has another surprise for you, too. Just relax and let Mommy do what she loves to do to you."
Despite himself, Roger squirmed and moaned as his mother threw back the covers.
Just as before, Norma now lay her head on her son's stomach and admired the long shaft in the dim light as she kneaded the flesh sack below it and squeezed semen from its tip as one would squeeze the contents of a tooth paste tube. God, how he lubricates, Norma thought, swallowing and wetting her lips as she prepared to lap the juice from its dribbling crown. At last, she could restrain herself no longer. She had jacked and squeezed the meat prong of her son until she was crazed with the need to gobble it whole. She moved lower, advancing on the jutting monster until she could nibble at its thick base.
Even this low, her son's love juice had dribbled so that she could taste its tang and inhale its strong aroma. Slowly, twirling her tongue, she worked her way to its bulbous head.
She drew her knees up as she worked so that she was in a fetal position and began spasming slightly and emitting little anticipatory sounds that sounded like questions. Then she tugged at her nightgown until it was off and threw it at the chair in the corner.
"Oh, Roger," she whispered, cuddling, her arms circling his buttocks, "I love you more than anything. I love to have your beautiful penis in my mouth."
She scooted down then, so that they both lay on their sides. He didn't resist when she turned him to his side. It was a nice position. She could rest her head on the mattress as she laved his organ. She took her son's big prick in her mouth and nursed on the bursting rod. As she did so, she ran her hands lovingly over his entire body
-his legs, his knees, and beneath his knees, his inner thighs and the cheeks of his buttocks ... nursing ... nursing ... sucking sounds ... tickling and nursing. She could not seem to get enough of him. Finally, she elected to place him in a position his father had liked. She lifted him so that he was on top of her, straddling her. Docilely, he let her do with him as she wished, still feigning sleep.
With some difficulty, she managed to prop her back against the headboard of the bed, the pillow beneath her neck, and then she pulled at his back and raised him so that he was up on his knees. Now he could fuck her mouth, drive his hips if he chose and assert himself as men sometimes liked to do. Once again, she placed the dripping head of his prick between her lips, taking it in like a starving pup searching for a momentarily out-of-reach nipple. As the thick shaft slid deep into the recesses of her throat, she placed one hand on his dangling balls and manipulated them. She placed her other hand on his buttocks and tugged lightly, letting him know she wanted the cock in as far as possible.
This is the way she wanted to suck her son while he fucked her mouth in the dim light. He liked the position, too, for now he began thrusting gingerly with his hips, no longer passive and just lying there but aggressive and the master of his own tool. For balance and leverage, he placed one hand on top of the headboard and began driving, thrusting steadily harder all the time.
"Ahhh," he groaned, and she knew he was savoring the tingle, that every nerve and tissue of his body was buzzing as he fucked her mouth. She puckered her mouth somewhat to allow him greater friction, maximizing his pleasure as the immensity of his dripping, rigid meat hunk probed steadily in and out. God it was beautiful, she thought, as she listened to his breath rasping above her and felt the entire bed rocking with the urgency of his movements. She gripped her body's cock harder as though it were a precious banana that might get away. After each backstroke she bent forward, reveling in the downstroke and gobbling it as it again penetrated as far as possible into her throat.
She wasn't able to get his entire prick into her mouth, but she was attempting to do so with all her might. She wished she were a trained sword swallower so that she could get the flesh sword in all the way but, alas, she couldn't quite manage it. Still it was beautiful and getting more beautiful all the time as he hurtled toward the point of orgasm. She would stop him in time, though, and transfer the mighty rod to her vagina. From this position the transition from mouth to cunt would be an easy one, she knew; that's why she had selected it. It would merely be a matter of lowering him to another hot and waiting orifice-her cunt!
And then suddenly she could tell that he was nearing a climax. Yes, he was drawing near-very near orgasm-and she didn't want that just yet. His tempo increased and his thrusts were becoming more insistent. He was even holding the back of her head. He was getting ready to send the clumps of his sperm flinging into her oral cavity just as he had the last time.
But this time had to be different. She removed his organ from her mouth and as his cock left warmth and met cool air he sighed a sigh of heart-breaking disappointment. She pitied her son to the very depths of her being, but she knew he would understand once the entire sexual act was over. At the moment this brief pause was essential. He would understand later-the poor thing.
Now he hovered above her, bracing himself with his hands against the headboard, trembling and wondering why she had stopped him. Well, he would soon know, Norma thought. Soon enough he would find release and understand her tactic.
After just the right amount of time, she again took his prick into her mouth. She gripped it this time slightly higher though so that he could not sink his meat quite so far into her mouth-just short of the back of her throat in fact. Her plan was to let him build to the point of climax, then stop him one more time before sliding him down to her eager and waiting vagina. As she sucked now, taking in his thrusts once again, she reached down and tickled her clitoris to prepare her slit for the transfer from mouth to cunt. The switch would be so natural he wouldn't even know what had happened. She could hardly wait, but she forced herself to be patient.
Steadily his pace quickened just as before and, gradually she released her grip on his cock to permit him further access to her mouth. Finally, she was engulfing most of her son's ram-rod again with her mouth and taking the organ in and out, in and out. She cradled his hairy balls in her hand, gently squeezing just as she used to do when servicing his father, that great man of propriety, so skilled and glib in the courtroom, that suave and highly civilized lawyer became a typical male animal in the bedroom. Odd, Norma thought, how her son's movements and reactions should so closely resemble those of his father's. Yes, Roger even groaned in the same pitch as Lester.
Roger's moaning suddenly aroused an insane desire to swallow her son's come-swallow it just as before-but she knew she couldn't, couldn't-because she couldn't swallow his come and have him fuck her, too, and she wanted his cock driving hard between her legs ... fucking her ... fucking her ... clutching her ass hard and taking her while his breath gasped and moaned in her ear. Oh, yes, yes ... soon she could clutch her precious son to her bosom and feel the jarring crash of his body against hers ... soon ... soon ... very soon....
The moment arrived sooner than she thought, for his hips once again took on that tense straining quality that signaled a rush for release. If it were possible, his rigid rod became still more rigid as his balls prepared to erupt their jism into her mouth. She quickly ceased her oral ministrations and, still jacking the stiff prong so that he would not give up in desperation, she ensured his continued interest, indeed his ability to maintain the rock-hard state of his erection instead of giving up in despair that he might never come.
His rod remained starch stiff-thank God, she thought-even though he was losing heart, stamina, hope that this unbearable teasing would come to an end. The moment of truth was near-very near-and Norma knew through experience and instinct that she could not deny her son's climax much longer. Soon he must either relieve himself or collapse in a sobbing heap of defeat and despair. Certainly she didn't want the latter. She had no desire to torture her boy. Her goal was simply to plant indelibly an exquisite and enslaving experience from which he could never escape-for which he would always yearn-an experience no female could even duplicate. And thus he would remain hers exclusively. Hers forever.
Hers for as long as he lived! Later, after the enslavement was complete, he would joyously participate in a mutual sex act. He would become part aggressor and even fondle her body and prepare it manually and orally, but for the moment her aim was to addict him, to acclimate him to her body and have him associate excruciating pleasure with his mother and only his mother. No, she could not hope for him to lap between her legs or suck her breasts just yet.
These acts would come later after the shock of mating with his mother had worn off and he had accepted her as his natural and permanent sex partner. The natural propensity of the male to dominate and direct would evolve naturally and inevitably with time. Roger's desire to inaugurate, initiate sex between himself and his mother would occur as subtly as the transition between night and day, the change of seasons, or a sound that diminishes so slowly one cannot be certain at what point it has ceased entirely.
Yes, all this would come in time, Norma was certain. Right now she wanted to transfer his cock's desire for warmth and rhythm from mouth to vagina. Perhaps she was making too much of this simple task. She wasn't sure. At any rate, the time had come for male to unite with female in the most natural manner. It was time for fucking.
Murmuring a persistent chant of encouragement, she grasped his hips and exerted pressure, indicating that her son should lower his body. He complied, scooting down until the full weight of his body rested on her own. She spread her legs and gently rocked him in her arms. "Oh, Roger," she murmured, "your mother loves you more than anything. You know that by now, don't you? Of course you're asleep but something deep within you knows that Mommy and her son belong this way. Close ... close ... close as it's possible for two people to be. You liked what Mommy just did to you, didn't you? Well, Mommy is taking you inside her body in a moment. She's going to take her darling into her pussy where warmth and love are waiting for her darling boy."
Roger emitted a moan and she could feel his still stiff rod begin a steady rhythm against her stomach. The moment had arrived and Norma wanted to burst into tears of joy. Her boy would enter her vagina within a matter of minutes-perhaps seconds!
"Mommy is going to wrap her loving legs around her boy and guide and pull him into the place where he belongs. It's the place you came from you know, Roger. It's the place where Mommy gave you life. And now it's the special warm place Mommy will give you such pleasure you will never forget it. How can you ever forget that place, Roger? You can't forget it. The truth is, you've always wanted to be back inside of Mommy. Really, you never even left there. It's your home, darling, and it will always be your home as long as you live."
Norma lowered her son a little so that his stout organ rested against the top of her pelvis, lingered in waiting there in the nest of silky pubic hair.
"See how it wants you to come home. It's all wet and warm inside. It's squeezing in and out, in and out, waiting for the boy it made to sink his yummy and aching thing back in it. It's almost calling out to you, darling. Can't you hear it? Come home, come home it's saying. Can't you hear it? Come home inside where it's warm and waiting. I can hear it...."
Once again Roger moaned and Norma reached down and took the bulging organ of her son tenderly in her hand. She stroked its foreskin and his body began pumping harder. She felt his tears against her cheek now. Yes, he understood what she had been saying, she thought, and he had recognized that every word was truth. For a lifetime he had known this great truth but only now had he allowed himself to accept it as truth and now he was crying because he knew that fucking his mother was natural and necessary and the most important thing in his life.
"Motherrrrr," he moaned as though in a deep trance.
"Yes, darling, yes," Norma answered softly. "Now you must put yourself inside me and I will wrap my legs around you and it will be the happiest moment of your life-of both our lives."
Norma continued rocking her son with one arm on his shoulder and milking his prick with her hand. Slowly, she placed its gushing head against her wet clitoris and moved it back and forth, back and forth. Every nerve in her body screamed for her son to penetrate her (pierce her) but still she continued to prepare her boy for entry between her legs. Gradually, as his body shuddered and his hip movements grew more intense, she lowered the head of his member and bathed it in the heat of her cunt lips. She placed the entire head inside so that her heat surrounded this most sensitive part of his cock.
"Motherrrr," he moaned again.
"Yes, my love. Wonderful, isn't it? It's wonderful for both of us."
She lowered her hand from his shoulder now and placed it on the small of his back and pressed gently as she continued inserting his prick squeezingly into her slippery waiting heat. God, she could begin to feel its gristly firmness filling her aperture! Soon it would be all the way in, plunging and driving her to unspeakable ecstasy!
"You want it all the way inside, my love, don't you? Mommy wants it way up inside, too. Just remember. If it feels good for you it feels ten times as good for Mother-a thousand times as good!"
"Motherrrr...."
Roger's prick was nearly all the way in now and Norma began raising her ass and pressing down with her pelvis to feel its presence, to increase both of their awarenesses that they were clamped together now as male and female. They both began a steady motion, savoring the wet warmth and mutual delight and pleasure of a void being filled to capacity. The emptiness and the plug were united now and the friction was beginning to make the union, the filling of the gap with the hotly intruding instrument, something wondrous as mother and son writhed and rolled and thrust as one in abandon.
Norma heard sounds she had never heard before rising from deep in her own throat and her son emitted sounds he had never spewed before. She had thought she had heard every sound of which he was capable of making, but the sounds he now made were new, foreign, indescribable, something weird and almost inhuman. So were hers ... eerie ... mystical ... sacred and alarming ... yet soothing ... super-normal....
They spoke to each other, but their communication was not in words-or at least not in words either of them had ever heard before. Nor was it code. Whatever it was, each understood the other perfectly, and it was a language of both sounds and body motion.
And so there they were ... fucking ... mother and son fornicating as the bed squeaked and the bedclothes fell to the floor unnoticed and there were squeals from Norma's throat and deeper sounds from Roger and sometimes the higher sounds came from Roger and, oddly, the deeper sounds came from Norma and there was no sense to any of it and at the same time a great deal of sense-yes, a great deal of sense and you might say even a great deal of significance because sons and mothers do not often fuck but here these two were fucking all right, really fucking and going at it intensely until it ended the way sexual intercourse generally does-that is with a great deal of motion and sound because it does feel good (that's the principle ingredient of the act, feeling very good, very, very good) which is why nearly everybody who can find somebody else who wants to fuck too will do so so that they can fuck together and have this feeling that is universally regarded as feeling about as good as anything can feel. A VERY, VERY, VERY GOOD FEELING ... THE VERY BEST...
And then you rest and try to get your breath back.
For a long time Norma cradled her son in her arms and both of them gasped, regaining their breaths and feeling great release and relief surging through their bodies, their loins, all up and down and round and about every part of their physiques.
"T love you, my darling boy," Norma breathed, feeling his erection begin to dwindle now, wanting it to stay firm and stiff inside her but knowing this was impossible.
Roger did not answer and pretty soon his prick was down to normal again. Norma continued to hold him in her arms anyway, caressing him, telling him of her great love for him. Finally, she felt his prick withdraw from her vagina altogether and she turned so that they lay on their sides facing each other. She stroked his hair and rubbed his back that way until he had fallen into a deep sleep. This time, even though she knew he was truly asleep and not just pretending, she spoke to him anyway.
"I love you with all my heart, my son. I will do everything humanly possible to make you comfortable and not feel guilt because you have made love with your mother. I brought this unnatural thing about and I will see to it that you do not suffer, my love. I promise you that. I promise ... I swear this to you..."
Norma studied her son's handsome features in the dim light, traced with her finger the lines of his chin, his eyes, his mouth for a long time lovingly. Then she slid out of the narrow bed and crossed the room to the doorway. She stood there, taking in the room, and her eyes fell on the pin-up calendar on the wall. Just paper and ink, she thought. The calendar meant nothing. Whatever it was she had set in motion between herself and her son was of flesh-the real thing-something that would endure and affect both of their lives for as long as they lived. She closed the door and went to her own bedroom.
V
If Norma Dunham's first visit to her son's bedroom had surprised her son, this second bedtime visit had left him in a state of total confusion. Roger didn't know what to think! In fact, the next few days found him bumping into things, staring off into space absent-mindedly, even talking to himself. On several occasions, Phil Kendall, Ray Stevens and his other friends asked him just what was bothering him. Each time people inquired as to what was on his mind, he muttered, "nothing," and tried to behave as normally as he could. The truth was, though, he was very deeply distressed. His mother's daily behavior had nothing to do with his daydreaming-she carried on as though nothing unusual had happened, just as she had after their first sexual encounter. No, his strange behavior was rooted in the fact that he had never before experienced-nor ever expected to experience again-feelings so intense as he had felt during his mother's last visit.
He had always loved his mother. Naturally. Everybody loved his mother to one degree or another. But making love to her-actually fucking her-had created such feelings of love and desire for her that he could not imagine ever making love to anyone else! Sheila, Ginny, any girl he had fucked or ever hoped to fuck, could never rival the skill, the beautiful understanding of his every need and desire that his mother had demonstrated. She had carried him into an incredible world of sexual ecstasy and he could not imagine himself with another woman.
Not ever.
And this was no easy thing to accept.
After the first sexual incident with his mother, he had told himself that although having sex with her was unusual, to say the least, that he would adjust to the situation somehow. Deep within his brain, too, he just assumed that in time her visits would dwindle and eventually stop completely. Now, the thought of her abandoning him and never making love to him again was frightening. He loved her desperately and completely, and he wanted to sleep with her every night. The image of her smile, her delectable body, her voice, everything about her haunted him during his every waking minute. He could not take his mind off her. He wanted to write her poetry, tell her of his great love, beg her never to look upon another male again. But could he do this? How could he tell her of the depth of his feelings? How could he tell her he wanted her to stay home and never work again? How could he tell her that he wanted to quit school and spend his every waking hour with her? How could he tell her that he worshiped her, that he adored her, that he would gladly give his life for her? She was an angel!
One thing was certain. He could not go on this way. He could not await her visits to his room every other night or so. He would go insane if he didn't resolve the situation in some way. One afternoon he even considered running away to some foreign country-Europe, Mexico, anywhere. Actually, he was afraid that when he told her the way he felt about her that she would shun him, ridicule him, reject him. And he knew that he could not bear this. Did she know that she had addicted him, created a helpless, pitiful slave of her son? Despite her loving words in his ear, her promises of complete love and devotion to him, he suspected that she uttered them only because she thought him asleep. If he responded and told her he could not live without her beside him constantly he was sure she would call an end to the little game she had begun.
One Tuesday, sitting in the school cafeteria, Roger made the decision to tell his mother exactly how he felt. That night, he decided, he would wait in his room and see if she came to him in his bedroom. If she did, he would not pretend to be asleep as before. He would hug and kiss her and tell her he loved her. Then there would be no more game playing. They could openly sleep together, talk about the wonderful things their bodies enjoyed together and even make plans for the future. There was some risk involved, true, because such openness on his part might very well scare her off, but anything was better than continuing this way-wondering when and if his mother would visit his room. In fact, if his mother didn't come to his room that night, he intended to go to her room. What could he lose?
She had come to his room, rubbed his back and made love to her son when she thought he was asleep, hadn't she? Then why couldn't he do the same. Yes, tonight he would go to her room, slip into bed beside her and they would both freely admit everything.
Having made this decision, Roger felt better already. The students sitting at the tables in the cafeteria, the hum of their conversation, everything seemed in place and suddenly with a purpose. He swallowed the last of his tuna sandwich, washed it down with a big gulp of milk and stood up. Phil Kendall and Ray Stevens sat on the far side of the room talking to Ginny Talbot and Lori and Sheila. He decided not to join them. He didn't want to make conversation with anybody. He just wanted to remain by himself and dwell on his mother and the decision he had made about her. His feelings now were too good to share with anybody-no, they were impossible to share with anybody-and he just wanted to think about his mother and anticipate tonight. After tonight all these feelings he had kept bottled up inside of him would be out and he could begin functioning as a normal human being again instead of slinking around with a frown on his face and avoiding people all the time as he had been doing.
The rest of the day passed peacefully. Roger didn't listen very attentively in classes and he didn't take his usual notes; but that didn't matter. The main thing was that he had made up his mind to do something instead of just moping and remaining in a state of hamletian indecision.
When the final bell of the day sounded he gathered his books and hurried to the parking lot where Phil sat waiting in his MG. He got in and tossed his books in the back. Phil studied him with narrowed eyes, then smiled.
"Well, it's good to have you back among the human race," he said, revving the engine as he warmed it up. He extended his hand and Roger shook it. "What happened to you, anyway? Suddenly you lost that pained, constipated look. For a while there I thought we'd lost you for good."
"Oh, nothing," Roger said. "I did have a few personal things on my mind, but everything's going to be all right. I guess I have been sort of a pain in the ass. Sorry."
Phil slapped Roger on the back. "Hey, Ginny's having another little fuck and suck party at her place again. There'll be grass and wine and the whole thing. We didn't plan on having another male there, but I'm sure it'll be all right now that you're normal again. Come on along, huh? I'll even give you Lori. She's asked about you a few times. Frankly, I think she's hot for your body. She's one nice piece of pussy. What do you say?"
"Thanks, Phil, but there's one more thing I have to take care of this afternoon before I'm completely normal. I'll have to pass."
Phil shook his head, frowning. "I don't know about you, Rog. I thought you were normal again, but anybody who would turn down a screw with Lori has to be sick."
Roger mussed Phil's hair in a gesture of genuine appreciation. "I have been a pain in the ass, I admit," he said. "Just be patient with me a little longer, okay? After today I should be back to normal. Today I have to go on home. Tomorrow I should be a new man."
"Whatever you say," Roger said, and backed the car out of the lot.
Ten minutes later Phil screeched the MG to a halt in front of Roger's house. Roger got his books and stepped out.
"Well, I better make time or all the pussy will be taken," Phil said. "See you." He jammed the stick shift into first gear and dug out.
Inside, Roger put his books down on the dining room table and went to the hall closet where he and his mother had stacked all the relics from his early years. As though hypnotized, Roger found himself handling the scrap-books his mother had carefully assembled down through the years, his grammar school report cards, drawings and cut-outs he had made in the first and second grades. Yes, she had been a truly loving mother, he thought, to hoard these memories of her son and treasure them. Quite possibly, too, his father had not been an easy man to live with. What with his almost insane drive to succeed and his selfish behavior it was a wonder his mother had stayed married to him for as long as she did. Norma Dunham, his mother, had been a truly self-sacrificing and loving mother ... an angel ... and it had taken all these years for him to really appreciate her ... all these years for them to discover that they loved each other in a way that few sons and mothers would ever know. The situation would not be an easy one to survive because the world did not understand or approve of the kind of relationship they had started. But their love would overcome these obstacles, he thought. Somehow they would make it work. They had to!
Roger ran his hand across a rectangular, silk-covered book with a picture of a baby on the cover. MY BABY it read on the blue cover. He opened it and looked at all the things his mother had saved. There was a lock of his hair taped to one page and on another page his first baby tooth that had come out. There were notes on his height and weight throughout the years along with loving, descriptive notes on Roger Dunham's behavior-his first words, his favorite foods, his first birthday party....
There had to be at least a hundred photographs of him in his crib, in his high-chair, crawling on the floor, walking for the first time. Tears came to his eyes as he realized the patience and love that had gone into the preparation of this book by his mother. What total devotion, love, adoration, concern, had gone into the book! How many mothers would have taken the time and effort required? It was almost as though, even then, Norma Dunham and her son were destined to share a unique and very special relationship once he grew old enough to respond as a man and repay her with sexual lovemaking.
Finally, at the end of the book, Roger came upon a long letter his mother had written to her son. It was charged with emotion and obviously written with great and loving hopes by a woman whose sole concern in life was the welfare of her baby. Roger had scanned the baby book many times before, but somehow he had never bothered to read these words. In fact, he didn't recall ever having seen them before. Still, the ink was old and the letter had obviously been written years ago. He visualized his mother writing the words with tears in her eyes and a trembling hand. He visualized her, much younger then and even more beautiful then than she was now (if that were possible!). Deeply moved, he read:
"My darling son: Well, you have been the joy of my life these past few months indeed since you were born. Every sound you utter, every movement of your strong little body, brings me such pleasure I cannot begin to describe it. God has blessed me with you and I shall never desert you, my love. No matter what, I will see that you never want for anything. As long as I am able to breath you will be the inspiration for my existence. Without reservation I can say that I would literally give my life for you. I do not know if all mothers feel as I do about their sons, but I feel that I was born with one mission-to give birth to you, Roger, and love you with all my heart for so long as I may live ... I know that you will grow up to be a fine young man and that I will be very proud of you. I see you accomplishing great things, achieving any goal you set for yourself. . . "
There was more-much more-but Roger could not finish reading the words because of the tears that filled his eyes. He put the book back with the rest of the things in the closet and shut the door. Then he stood there and resolved to make something of himself. He would become something that his mother would be proud of so that her confidence and loving devotion would not have been in vain. And tonight he would tell her that he, too, felt more strongly about his mother than boys his age were usually capable of. The years she had given of herself had not passed in vain. He was old enough now to tell her-show her-and the demonstration of his love would prove beyond a doubt that her love and confidence in him had not been wasted. They would make beautiful physical love and their lovemaking and vows of eternal devotion to each other would be the natural and fitting culmination, their rewards, for the years which had passed from the day of Roger's birth-his very conception-to this inevitable instant of blissful recognition.
Roger decided then that a gift was appropriate. He would buy her a bottle of perfume and a card. He went out the kitchen door and walked smiling toward the drug store, two blocks away. It was a beautiful afternoon and the lawns and shrubbery in the front yards of the houses lining the street on which he was born were trim and healthy and fresh. Everything was in place and in order. He felt a deep contentment and serenity.
In the drug store he selected a large bottle of perfume and had it gift-wrapped. The card he selected seemed appropriate, too. The words spoke of gratitude and love and a promise for future happiness. The salesgirl seemed to smile a knowing secret smile as she handed Roger the package and accepted his money. Could she possibly suspect that this was no ordinary gift from a boy to a girl? he asked himself. Of course not. She would have to be a witch, a sorceress, to know that this package was not merely a gift but a tribute, a celebration, of an incestuous love between a boy and his mother. But there was something different about this girl's manner. Roger put the change she handed him in his pocket and decided that perhaps there was a kind of magic current-something beyond two-and-two-makes-four-that disturbed the air and gave a hint to people that something was different when a boy loved his mother the way Roger loved his mother.
Roger dismissed the notion from his mind, though, and left the store. At home, he placed the gift-wrapped bottle of perfume and card right on the dining room table where his mother would see them when she came in. Then he went to his room to do his homework.
Norma Dunham was not alone when she came home. There was somebody else with her. A man. Roger's heart sank as he sat up, alert, from his history book and strained to listen to the conversation between his mother and the deeper male voice. Who was it with her? Mr. Gorshin? Richard Gorshin was the manager of Bartlett's Department Store and Norma Dunham's boss. Once before she had brought Mr. Gorshin home for dinner. Had she brought him home for dinner? Roger hoped not. Of all night's to have things go wrong! Roger thought.
He got up and went into the living room and saw his mother and Richard Gorshin standing in the kitchen.
"Hello, dear," Norma Dunham called. "You remember Mr. Gorshin, don't you? From the store?"
"Sure," Roger said, trying to hide his disappointment. "Good to see you again, Mr. Gorshin. How have you been?"
Richard Gorshin was balding, short and heavy. He took himself very seriously and spoke in an authoritative high-pitched voice that annoyed Roger, but since he was his mother's boss Roger knew he had to be pleasant to him.
"Fine, Roger," Gorshin answered. "I'm just fine. Your mother was kind enough to invite me over for dinner tonight so it looks like there'll be three of us. Say, you're growing like a weed, Roger. Getting to be a real man. I can see why your mother is so proud of you. Yes, sir. A fine-looking boy."
"Thank you," Roger said, thinking, what a pain in the ass you are, Gorshin, and of all nights you had to stick your fucking boss' nose into this house. Why don't you go and have dinner out somewhere where people don't have to listen to your goddam boring conversation, you silly bastard?
"Yes, he's getting to be more of a man every day," Norma Dunham agreed, tilting her head to one side as she happily admired her son. "I don't know what I'd do without him."
I do, Roger thought. You'd use your vibrator on your cunt because you wouldn't have a son to visit when the lights go out. Roger caught himself then. What am I thinking? he thought. Here he had been swearing eternal devotion to his mother and now he was thinking horrible thoughts about her. It's just jealousy, he told himself. Jealousy. He was amazed that he was capable of feeling such disappointment because his plans had all gone wrong. Still, he had planned what could amount to the most important moment in both of their lives and now this dumb cocksucker, Gorshin, had shown up to ruin everything. He felt crushed-completely and totally crushed by this unexpected turn of events.
"Why don't you and Mr. Gorshin go on into the den and turn on the TV or talk or something while I get dinner ready?" his mother said, and then her eyes caught sight of the gift-wrapped package on the dining room table. "My!" she exclaimed. "What on earth is this?" She went over and picked up the present and looked at the card. "Roger, is this from you?" He nodded solemnly.
"What a wonderful surprise, dear. What's the occasion?"
"Oh, nothing. I just felt like giving you a little something. It's just a-a little something to show my appreciation." He was sure his phrase "show my appreciation" would not pass over her head. He watched now as she removed the card from the envelope and read it. When she finished it, she turned to Gorshin and said, "What a wonderful son, isn't he? How many boys buy their mothers presents simply out of appreciation."
"Such consideration is truly touching," Gorshin said, and he seemed to mean it.
"Touching? Why it's more than just touching," Norma Dunham said, coming over and hugging her son.
Roger accepted her kiss on the cheek and her hug with slight indifference. He didn't feel like demonstrating his affection for his mother in front of Gorshin. Roger wished he could show this man in some way that he had ruined everything, that he could say something that would make the man go away without losing his mother's job for her.
"How many boys would do such a thing for their mother?"
"Not many-that's for certain," Gorshin said. "Most of them are out shooting dope in their arms or smoking marijuana or blowing up banks or universities. You are a most refreshing change, Roger. I can't tell you how impressed I am at this display of affection. It's a tribute, too, to have the mother of such a son working as toy buyer in Bartlett's department store." Gorshin pondered this. "In fact, I wish there were some way we could publicize something like this. I really do."
Why don't you go fuck yourself, Gorshin? Roger thought. Why don't you go and publicize the fact that you stick your fucking nose in places at awkward times where you're not wanted?
Norma Dunham had the package unwrapped now. "Perfume!" she cried. "Oh, Roger," she said, removing the top and sniffing. "And it's such a lovely fragrance! Smell, Mr. Gorshin," she said, holding out the bottle.
Gorshin inhaled and agreed that it was wonderful. "Just wonderful."
Why don't you shove it up your ass, Roger thought, looking at Gorshin. You'll be able to get the true fragrance better with it sticking up your flabby ass. "I'm glad you both like it," Roger said.
Norma Dunham gave her son a final kiss on the cheek and then sent both men to the den so that she could prepare dinner. In the den, Roger promptly turned on the evening news so that they could watch television and he wouldn't have to make conversation with Gorshin. Several times Gorshin made attempts to inquire about school and girl friends and Roger's thinking on current political happenings, but each time Roger merely gave him a curt reply and again focused his attention on the television screen. Finally, Gorshin seemed to give up and himself stared at the news, concentrating on it.
Norma Dunham had brought home steaks and the kind of potatoes that take only a few minutes in the oven. When she had fixed the salad and set the table, she announced that dinner would be ready in a minute and the two of them could sit down now. "I hope you're not disappointed, Mr. Gorshin, but remember this invitation came up on the spur of the moment and I told you it wouldn't be anything imagine."
"It will be just fine, Norma," Gorshin assured her. "I'm sure it will be just splendid. I'm delighted that you even bothered to ask me.
Fuck you, Roger thought. I hope you choke on the salad. Then we won't have to listen to you for the rest of the goddam meal.
As they ate, Gorshin discussed happenings at Bartlett's department store-sales, procedures, the dollar volume of each of the departments, problems in personnel, Norma Dunham's fine job in the toy department. Somehow or other, as he spoke, he emerged as the reigning power behind all the momentous events that took place in his narrow world of Bartlett's. Roger thought he was going to throw up if he had to hear any more about how Bartlett's would have gone out of business years ago if it weren't for the loyal and able guidance of the magnificent Richard Gorshin. Gorshin even implied that only the privileged employees (meaning those who didn't really have to work for a living but chose to work because they preferred to stay active instead of lolling about at home), such as Norma Dunham, were the only reliable, productive employees. He gazed about the large, expensively furnished house as he spoke very confidentially on this matter.
Roger wondered if Gorshin saw his mother as a potential wife. After all, she didn't really have to work and it was pretty obvious that she wasn't in need of the salary Bartlett's department store paid her. Also, he was a bachelor. The thought distressed Roger, even though he'd heard his mother refer to Gorshin as a petty little man who thought himself important even though he wasn't. The thing that really annoyed Roger about Gorshin was that such a man could actually become the manager of a store.
Did all managers really see employees who worked because they need their salaries to feed and clothe and house themselves as inferior? Roger certainly hoped not.
Immediately after dinner, Roger excused himself, saying that he had to study and departed for his room. Gorshin expressed admiration for any boy who took his studies so seriously, unlike the bulk of lazy students today and his mother dutifully agreed with him.
Behind his closed door, Roger once again cursed the day Gorshin was born and idly lay on his bed reading ancient history instead of the history assignment Mr. Harrington's class was supposed to be studying. He had been reading for perhaps an hour when it occurred to him that he hadn't heard any voices for a long time. He got up, quietly opened his door and listened.
Nothing.
Softly, he went down the hall between the wall and the huge flagstone fireplace that stood out from the wall and created a kind of second wall that didn't reach the ceiling. He peered over the flagstone into the large room and saw Mr. Gorshin raising his mother from the sofa, leading her by the hand. To his horror, he saw that his mother's blouse was unbuttoned and that her hair was slightly mussed. Worse, Gorshin's pants front was bulging at the crotch!
Jesus, he thought, could his mother actually let Gorshin fondle her? Obviously she had. And now it looked as though they were headed for the bedroom. Roger knew that his mother wasn't fond of the man. Why then was she consenting to this kind of thing? She didn't need her job at Bartlett's-that was certain-and she had been making love with him lately, so she couldn't be horny. Why would a woman who had been fucking her son and enjoying it let a dumb ass-hole like Gorshin even touch her? It was beyond him.
In amazement, Roger watched as the two embraced, their stomachs pressed tightly together, and then walk off toward the bedroom. Suddenly Norma Dunham halted, whispered something Roger couldn't hear in Gorshin's ear and headed for his room. Roger ducked and just made it to his room before his mother knocked on his door.
"Yes," he called. "Come in."
His mother opened the door and peeked around the corner. "Son," she said, "Mr. Gorshin and I are going to the rear of the house and go over some figures. He wants to talk about sales in the toy department or something. We shouldn't be too long, but I just wanted to let you know in case you wondered where we were.
Don't disturb us for a while, all right?"
"All right," Roger said, rage welling within him. Did she really think she was fooling him peeping around the corner that way so that he couldn't see that her blouse was unbuttoned? And what figures did she have in mind? Mr. Gorshin hadn't even brought a briefcase with him.
His mother crinkled her nose as though she were annoyed with Mr. Gorshin. "I guess I do have to humor the old goat a little, don't I?"
"Yeah, I guess you have to humor him," Roger said evenly, making no attempt to hide his disgust. "Go ahead and study those figures. Yeah."
His mother frowned a little at his tone of voice, registering surprise, then slowly shut the door.
Perhaps five minutes had passed when Roger could stand the suspense no longer. He left his room and checked out the living room. Empty. The bedroom door was closed so he decided to exit through the patio and try to peek in his mother's bedroom. It was cool for October and there was practically no moon. It was very dark. He walked along the side of the house to the large window that looked into his mother's bedroom and stopped. The drapes were drawn, but not completely, and he could get a good view of the room through the crack in the thick drapes. He stared in disgust and horror at the sight inside.
His mother lay naked on her back with her legs spread wide while Gorshin, still wearing his shorts, was sucking on her tits and fingerfucking her cunt. She didn't seem to be overly passionate. Her arms weren't around his neck and she wasn't thrusting with her hips, but she was letting him do those things to her body. How could she? Gagging, Roger vomited into the shrubbery, then forced himself to peer in once again.
Now Gorshin removed his shorts and his little pecker stood out stiff and eager. Roger couldn't believe that his mother could cooperate so completely. When Gorshin took her hand and placed it on his whanger, she began jacking it slowly up and down, squeezing and fondling to bring it to its full length. He groaned then and straddled her so that his prick rested between her swollen breasts. She didn't seem carried away with passion but Gorshin was shaking and shuddering from head to toe as if he'd go crazy if his little prick didn't find something hot to imbed itself in soon. Drooling, he made a crevice of her tits by pressing them firmly together and began fucking the crevice. To Roger's horror, his mother then reached down and began gently tickling Gorshin's nuts. His body began bucking involuntarily then and he pulled her head so that her mouth touched the head of his prick. She responded by darting her tongue in and out of her mouth, teasing the head of Gorshin's organ so that it jerked violently in response to wet heat.
Her tongue against the tip of his organ drove Gorshin to a frenzy and he scooted up farther on her chest and drove his cock well into her waiting mouth. She didn't resist his entry and, in fact, began nursing steadily, bobbing her head as she ingested more of his penis with each thrust of his hips. Then she gripped his prick with her hand and guided it in and out of her mouth. Her cheeks were hollow from the suction and Roger could see saliva and semen running from the corners of her mouth and down her chin to her breasts. Roger thought that he might burst into tears and break the window through which he peered with one mighty blow of his fist, but instead he stood transfixed and staring mutely at the incredible sight before him.
Gorshin reached behind his own buttocks now and began running his finger up and down the length of Norma Dunham's gushing slit as she continued sucking on the stout member penetrating her lips. Roger guessed that Gorshin was preparing to mount his mother and fuck her any minute. He wasn't sure he could stand to watch much more. He wanted to run back into the house and hurl himself on his bed, cover his head with his pillow and blot out the vision of this man sticking his cock in his mother's mouth. But something still held him fixed in place, as though he were a bystander watching some hideous accident, revolted but unable to leave the gruesome scene, wanting to leave but remaining, staring yet not wanting to stare.
Still squeezing her tits, Gorshin forced himself to remove his cock from the hips that nibbled and gobbled his organ and slid down until his hips were parallel with Roger's mother's. He poked his whanger a few times into pubic hair, trying to find cunt heat, and finally managed to insert himself into the hot slit that he'd made mushy with his finger. Then his butt began quivering as he fucked Roger's mother like some desperate rabbit. If his mother had just lain there allowing the man on top of her to have his way with her body Roger might have been able to forgive her. But instead, she locked her ankles around his legs and pumped almost as fast as Gorshin. Does she really enjoy fucking this bungling fool? Roger asked himself, gagging once again. Could this same woman, his mother, who had made such beautiful and tender love to him now behave like an animal with this man Roger knew she did not respect? Tears streamed down his cheeks as he stared at the writhing, panting couple fuck their way toward orgasm. His mother ... her legs spread and shoving her cunt up hard to meet another man's plunging cock ... pulling at his ass ... drawing him in ... clutching and welcoming ... urging his prick to empty itself in the hot interior of her body. How could she? How could she?
Furiously, tears still running down his cheeks, Roger unzipped his fly, withdrew his limp cock and flogged it until it stood erect. His palm worked rapidly over his foreskin, trying to catch up with his mother's sex partner so that he would come when the hated man did. Yes, if he couldn't fuck his mother as this man did at least he could defiantly spend his sperm against the shrubbery at the exact moment this despicable male slung his sperm into his panting mother. He did not know why he elected to jack off and watch his own mother getting fucked but something deep within him dictated that he do so as an act of vengeance.
Roger watched closely, watching for the tell-tale signs, the signal that would tell him that Gorshin was coming. He did not have to wait long. Gorshin's mouth opened wide and he began gasping and pumping his ass faster, faster, driving his penis into the cunt beneath him with incredible speed. He threw Roger's mother's knees up high against her chest suddenly and fucked with a fury and intensity beyond belief. Yes, he was nearly there, getting closer, closer. Roger couldn't tell if his mother was near orgasm, but he didn't care and apparently Gorshin didn't care either.
All the sonofabitch cared about was dropping his load into the cunt beneath him and to hell with her needs. Good ... Good, Roger thought, flailing away at his meat. I hope she deceives you and only pretends to come. No, I hope she just lies there and lets you know that all your ass-pumping didn't please her at all. I hope she tells you, you're the worst excuse for a fuck she ever met. I hope she tells you to take your lousy little prick back to Bartlett's Department Store and sell it as a joke in the toy department. . .
Gorshin was getting ready to come now and Roger flailed at his own prick faster, too. There he went. He spasmed all over and collapsed on top of Roger's mother in an inconsiderate heap. A few more strokes and Roger came, too, spraying the shrubbery with his jism. Just as he reached his climax, Roger received the reward he had prayed for. He saw his mother's face, turned away to the side so that Gorshin could not see her expression, and he knew that she had not come. She looked completely frustrated.
Everything was all right suddenly-no, not all right because it could never be all right watching another man fuck his mother-but at least he had the satisfaction of knowing that this cretin, this simpering nothing who had dared to defile his mother had not satisfied her. She had only allowed him to mount and penetrate her out of some whim. Perhaps he even repulsed her. Yes ... yes, that was it ... she had found him unsatisfying and thoroughly revolting....
Roger's knees were beginning to buckle beneath him. Weak, he steadied himself with his hand against the building. Then he sneaked back through the sliding-glass patio door to his room and fell on his bed. He lay there, despair and exhaustion and disgust surging through him. After a while, he managed to undress and climb between the sheets. He reached up and turned off the light above his bed and lay staring into the darkness. Why had she done this thing with another man when she had professed such love for son? He did not know. He only knew that if she dared to enter his room tonight he could not predict his behavior. He would tell her to leave and never touch him again. But he knew that she would not come to him tonight. He just knew it. And then, slowly and sadly, he knew something else. Tonight he could not forgive her, true, but tomorrow he would. He loved his mother beyond reason, beyond life itself, and he would forgive her somehow. She would explain why she had done this awful thing with Gorshin and he would understand and forgive her. She would promise never to do such a thing again and then he and his mother would become lovers for the rest of their
VI
Norma Dunham braked her car to halt inside the garage, turned off the ignition and sat staring at the dashboard.
As she had driven through the rush-hour traffic from work she had turned over and over in her mind her son's strange behavior this morning. He had barely touched his breakfast, which was not at all like him, and several times she had caught him staring at her sadly. The thought that he might have suspected her yielding to Richard Gorshin sexually last night crossed her mind, but she had dismissed this possibility. She had carefully locked the bedroom door and she and Richard had made very little noise while making love there on the bed. No, she felt certain that her son had not overheard them, but why then was he behaving so sullenly? She would have to coax whatever was on his mind out of him this evening, she thought, as she got out of the car.
She came in through the back entrance, stepped into the kitchen and was surprised to see Roger busily bustling about. There were lamb chops out on the breadboard, pots boiling on the stove and chopped lettuce and sliced tomatoes and avocados in a wooden bowl on the sink. He even wore an apron around his waist!
"Hi, Mom," he said. "I'm glad you're on time. I'll have dinner ready pretty soon. Go on back and get into your nightgown and robe and slippers. Relax. It's my night to wait on you for a change."
Norma stared in amazement at the sight of her son in the apron. Somehow, flitting about the kitchen like a dutiful housewife in an apron seemed a little incongruous for her broad-shouldered, masculine son. "What-what's the occasion?" she asked, stunned. "Last night it was perfume and tonight you're fixing dinner. I-I don't understand."
Suddenly Roger stopped moving and stared at her seriously, his smile fading. "I'd rather not talk about last night right now," he said evenly, his eyebrows raised. "Later, but not now."
At that instant, Norma Dunham knew that her son's strange .behavior that morning had to do with her making love with Richard Gorshin. "All right," she said almost apologetically, "I'll-I'll slip into something more comfortable as you say and-and see you in a minute." She paused in the doorway. "You're not angry about anything, are you, son?"
"No, Mother. Would I be fixing dinner for you if I was angry? I want to talk with you about something important after dinner-very important-but first I want you to be happy and comfortable, okay?"
Norma nodded, swallowing and confused, and went back to her bedroom. Odd, but she did precisely what Roger had told her to do. She put on her nightgown and robe and slippers, then nervously stood looking at herself in the tall mirror. Why did she feel so jittery? She felt almost the same way she'd felt on her wedding night, except there was some indefinable fear coupled with her happiness.
Yes, she told herself again, Roger knew about her and Gorshin last night. But apparently he had managed to overcome any feeling of anger he felt. Why else would he be fixing dinner? And that perfume last night. Had her fondest dream come true? Could Roger really have decided that he loved and needed her as much as she loved and needed him? Maybe. She buried her face in her hands, feeling such conflicting emotions she thought she might cry. She didn't know whether this night would end with a vow between mother and son to live as lovers or with all her hopes and careful preparation with Roger destroyed because of last night's stupid sexual indiscretion. Oh, why had she allowed that despicable toad, Richard Gorshin, to touch her? she wondered. How could she risk losing a beautiful sexual relationship with her son by letting that pompous ass stick his puny manhood in her vagina?
Almost timidly, Norma Dunham entered the kitchen. Roger was working with all the efficiency of a skilled short order cook. The chops were sizzling in the broiler and he stood tossing a huge salad with a wooden fork and spoon in the big bowl. "Is-is there anything I can do to help?" she asked.
"No, everything's under control," he replied. "The meat is nearly ready, the vegetables are done, and I'm serving the salad right now. Just sit at the table and relax." His voice lowered then and he added, "I hope you're not disappointed that I didn't invite a third party. Someone like Richard Gorshin. I thought we'd have dinner tonight alone-just the two of us."
"Roger!" Norma screamed, completely out of control suddenly. "All right! All right! I invited him! I did! I even went to bed with him! I did it! I did it! I'm sorry! I-I..." She broke off then and leaned against the doorway, sobbing.
"I know you did!" Roger screamed right back. "You fucked him! I watched the two of you from outside! If you had come to my room last night TO RUB MY BACK I think I'd have killed you. I'd have done something terrible..." Roger realized what he had said then and rushed to his mother and took her in his arms. He covered her face with kisses and muttered apologetically. "Mother, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it. I-I love you more than anything. I didn't mean what I said. Forgive me? Please? I just felt awful last night, but I'm all right now. Don't cry. Please?"
Tenderly, he lifted her face and kissed her long and full on the lips. Then he led her to the dining room table and sat her down. He went on apologizing and telling her he loved her until she had calmed down. Nodding, she said she was sorry and forgave him, too. "Just sit there, Mother," Roger said, finally, backing away. "I'll have dinner on the table. I'll turn the lights down and light the candles and then we'll have a nice dinner together. Everything will be fine, Mother. I'll be right back. You'll see."
When the candles were lit and they both sat opposite each other, they had calmed down. The rage that flared suddenly and violently died as quickly as it had begun.
"Oh, Roger, I can't tell you what a wonderful surprise this is-fixing dinner for us this way. Oh, I do love you. I'm sorry I shouted at you. It's because I love you so much. Do you understand?" the mother said.
"Shush," Roger replied. "Let's not even talk about it. It was my fault. I understand. Is the food good? Do you really like it? It's good, isn't it?"
"Yes, it couldn't be better. Perfect." Norma frowned. "Which girls did you ask at school?"
Her tone of voice was suddenly suspicious, tinged with jealousy, and even before Roger could answer her question they both realized that were jumpy, on pins and needles and ready to over-react to anything. They both laughed a long laugh of relief. Norma laughed so long tears filled her eyes.
"Oh, Roger, I'm so sorry. Really. I'm just so happy that all of this is out in the open at last. I've felt like some kind of awful child molester. I've felt as though I might be losing my mind. I love you more than anything. Anything."
Roger reached across the table and patted her gently on the cheek. "I love you more than anything, too. I can say it to you now-right out. I love you, Mother."
Norma kissed her son's palm lingeringly, cradled it against her cheek. She sighed and picked at her food once again. "You must understand that last night with Gorshin happened only because I've been so confused. The way I feel about you-the things we've done-they've made me feel guilty. I had to let another man have me just to-to find out who I was. Does that make sense? I know you're probably not old enough to understand such things, but I had to discover something once and for all last night. That's the only reason it happened."
Roger stopped eating and stared at his mother across the table. "I'm only fifteen, Mother, and there has to be lots I don't understand. I know that. But I do understand what you're saying. Since the first night you came to my room and we made love I've been mixed up, too. Do you know how hard it was pretending I was asleep? The most exciting thing that ever happened to me was happening and I-I just didn't know what to say or how to act. I must have seemed pretty stupid to you." Tears came to Roger's eyes again. "Yes, I know about feeling guilty too, Mother. Mom," he blurted then, feeling a tingle all the way down to his groin, "I want to sleep with you in your bed tonight. I want us to be naked and close together and be able to talk to each other. I want to hurry up and finish dinner so we can go to your bed now!"
"Yes, my darling. Oh, yes!" Norma cried. "Let's go now."
They had finished less than half of the food on their plates but Roger stood up, his erection bursting against the fly of his denims, and came around the table toward his mother.
"Wait! Wait!" she said, her eyes glued to his delicious hard on pressing starch-stiff and wet at his crotch. "We can wait just a few minutes more. We've waited so long for this. I want to go and change the linen on the bed. I don't want a trace-not a hint-of what happened there last night to ruin it for us. Will you let me change the bed, darling? Can you wait?"
"Yes, I can wait," Roger said, his voice trembling. "But hurry, Mother. Please hurry?"
She stood up and blew him a kiss. "Yes, I'll hurry. You go and take your clothes off and then come to me. I'll have the lights low and I'll be waiting naked for you my precious darling. Just give me a few minutes. Then come and be with Mommy the way we've wanted it for so long. We can talk and tell each other everything-everything that's been on our minds."
Roger watched her break into a half-run for her bedroom. When she had disappeared he went into his room and tore his clothes off. His prick stood out in front of him like the handle of a hoe or a frying pan. It stood out so hard and firm it actually throbbed with pain. He had the feeling that if were to fall by accident his penis would shatter into a thousand pieces on impact it was so brittle-hard and fiery. He had never had such a hard on before.
Amazed, he gave it a twang with his hand and it barely moved! He twanged it again and still it stood implacable, like some hunk of metal welded to his pelvis. He walked back and forth with his prick standing out in front of him and counted the seconds. By now she's changed the bed, he thought. Now she's changing the pillow cases. Is she undressed yet? He wasn't sure so he allowed a few more seconds for her to take off her robe and nightgown. At last he decided that she had turned off most of the lights by now and lay naked on the cool sheets waiting for him. Could his estimate be wrong? He didn't care, he decided. If she hadn't finished changing the bed he could help her. He couldn't wait any longer. He held his prick in his hand as he walked down the hall because with each step it bobbed painfully without support.
At the doorway he stopped and saw that his mother was lying naked on her back. The lighting was perfect-just the light from the dressing room casting a soft but even low light throughout the room. Her left knee was raised and crossed over her other leg at the thigh so that she resembled one of the girls on his pin-up calendar. His heart slammed hard against his ribs.
"Can I come in now, Mother?" he asked.
Her voice was a hoarse whisper. "Yes, come to Mommy," she said, extending her arms. "We'll cuddle and do everything, everything."
The sight of his mother lying on her back, the W of her ass and her cunt waiting for him there on the bed nearly took his breath away. He reached the vacant side of the bed and stared down at her beckoning smile and raised arm and heaving tits for a moment. Then he climbed in beside her. Instantly their arms and legs intertwined in a fierce, rolling embrace. Body massaged body and mouth gulped greedily at mouth as they moaned and thrashed in loving abandon. Roger felt his mother's hands all over his body.
Briefly her hand settled on his organ and she squealed in amazement. "I've never felt my baby's prick so hard before. It's like steel! It's a steel pole! It's the stiffest, most wonderful pole in the world and it's all mine! Tell me it's mine, darling. It's mine, isn't it, Roger?"
"Yes, yes," he gasped, exulting in the smooth and soothing touch of her hand on his aching shaft. It was his mother's hand-his mother's soft and understanding hand that knew all and everything he'd ever craved.
"Here!" she cried. "Feel!" She took his hand by the wrist and placed it against her dripping slit. "See, darling. You make Mommy's cunt flow like a fountain. Feel how juicy and hot and frothy it is? That's because it's waiting for your big pole to go up inside it and make it feel wonderful-better than anything. Oh, my precious, do you have any idea how long and good you make Mommy come? The last time I thought I'd die the waves and waves of coming were so long and good. Unbearable! But we can wait for you to stick your pole inside. Let's kiss and talk and play with each other. And we can lick each other, too. Oh, isn't it wonderful? Ummmm, baby, precious, big-man, darling...."
Roger was smothered in loving tits and kisses and hugs then, and he didn't care if he ever got his breath again. His mouth roamed from his mother's mouth to her neck and nipples, even down as far as her heaving tummy. He clutched her ass, fondled the firm quivering cheeks there and tickled her clitoris. Then, though he sensed that more preliminaries were in order before he stuck his finger in her cunt, he felt the urge to imbed his middle finger up her twat anyway. He did this and even though it was abrupt his mother seemed to sense his impulsive desire and responded by spreading her legs wide, almost to the breaking point it seemed, as she accommodated his probing finger. It was as though she could read his mind and wanted desperately to meet his every secret thought and need.
"You like to stick your finger all the way up Mommy's pussy and feel how squishy and smooth and waiting it is, don't you? Well, go ahead, precious. Move your finger all around up there. Stick two fingers in if you want. Don't you like the way Mommy's legs are nice and wide apart so you can stick your finger right up her cunt and see her this way while you finger-fuck her? Play with my other hole too, if you want. Do anything you want, honey. My body is yours and always will be. Ummm..."
Yes, Roger realized, there were lots of things he had always wanted to do and places he'd wanted to explore. Sucking on his mother's tits, he probed every nook and crevice of her body with great tenderness and love and awe. Her body absorbed him, ingested him, cushioned his every thrust and movement as they sprawled and rolled, caressed and grasped each other's hungry body. They were of the same blood and flesh and bone and marrow; every muscle, nerve, fibre of their beings seemed to strain and scream to unite and become one as it had once been so long ago.
Norma clenched her son's penis hard between her legs, savoring its pulsing heat and rigidity as she held his hair in her hands and covered his eyes, cheeks, lips and forehead with gulping kisses. Roger dug his fingers harder into the cheeks of her buttocks, tore his head from her grasp and gobbled noisily at her neck and breasts. He forced her onto her back then and straddled her, held her cheeks between his strong hands and rasped pitifully, "Mother, Mother ... Oh, Mother."
He did not know where to begin, what to do to her. He only knew that he did not wish to fuck her yet, not yet. But what should he do with the banquet of her body he held pinned beneath him? She prompted him then, shoving down hard against his shoulders, and he descended, licking at flesh, until his face was buried in the wet, aromatic heat of her cunt. He began laving loudly at her dripping cunt lips, wagging his head from side to side as he snorted and sucked and inhaled there. He lifted her by her trunk so that her legs hung over his shoulders, the cheeks of her ass pressed firmly against his chest, and continued to gobble at his mother's cunt with a fury that made his mother writh and grunt hysterically.
He did not know how long he had been mouthing and tasting his mother's cunt when she forced him all the way down on his back, twisted so that they both lay on their sides. A leg was over his cheek now as he went on lapping between her legs, and then he realized her intention. As he vacuumed her hole with his tongue he felt the oven-like heat of her mouth close over his erection and begin sliding up and down, up and down, departing only occasionally to gently take his balls into her mouth and lovingly cleanse them with her skilled tongue.
Sixty-nining, he thought, his eyeballs rolling to the back of his head as he gripped his mother's ass hard and concentrated harder on her clitoris. He was sixty-nining with his mother! This is what they meant by sixty-nine! There should be a more beautiful word for it because he was transported to an ecstatic, trance-like state at the thought that he was giving unbelievable pleasure as he received it. He thrust his finger high into his mother's pussy now as he pressed his tongue harder and harder against her clit and she responded by mewing and taking his prick even deeper into her mouth-all the way back so that it crashed against her throat.
For a long time he didn't think he ever wanted to stop this mutual mouthing of organs, but then, naturally and without a word spoken, she reversed on the bed so that Roger's swollen shaft pressed against the puffed and demanding lips of his mother's love chasm. Holding his prick at its base and palming his testicles, his mother began engulfing the head of his cock in her seething inferno. He let her ease his meat slowly into her cunt for a time-until he could stand the delay no longer-and then he pushed steadily until all of his organ felt heat and it was in to the hilt.
"Ahhhh," Roger sighed, creeping forward on his knees to further impale his mother beneath him. It was as though he wanted to creep right into the depths of her with his entire body. His shaft became an embryo again searching for its home, longing to return to the warm source of its existence. His mother seemed to sense this, too, and crushed him to her pelvis with such force he found himself thrusting her legs up onto her shoulders to gain even greater access and thus satisfy this mutual, unspoken need.
"Fuck me, my darling son. Oh my son ... Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me! Fuck your mother, sweetheart. Fuck Mommy as she's never been fucked before!"
Roger's body pumped hard now, complying. His stroke was steady and firm and hard, and yet it was gentle. He could not fuck this female he worshiped as though she were merely an object of pleasure. She was more. She was the most loving, wonderful, magic thing he had ever known and he probed her with his rock-hard cock with urgency but, at the same time, with instinctive finesse and adoring care. His rhythm was not steady now but dictated by the ebb and flow of each of their intense and ever-changing emotions. At times she was the mother who had soothed his fears and tended his boyhood wounds, and at other moments she was a purring, loving lullaby in his drowsy ear. And then again, quite abruptly (he didn't know why) she was the origin of all his love of woman, the gentler woman, and such overpowering emotions flooded through his brain and body he speared her with a force and strength that frightened both of them.
"Motherrr ... Mother ... Mother..." he chanted and his voice was a crib-cry to which the woman beneath him had to attend.
"My son ... baby, baby, son. Oh, love me ... always love me..."
Her voice changed then, grew harsh, demanding. Their roles changed, just as they had grown and changed throughout the years. "Fuck me!" she commanded then. "I said, fuck me, do you hear? Fuck me hard this instant! Do you hear, Roger? Stop that playing around and fuck your mother the way she tells you!"
"Yes, Mother," Roger replied almost dutifully, following the directions of her guiding hands on his hips, fucking now to please her. He did not want her to be angry with him. She was, after all, his mother and he must obey and thrust with his penis exactly as she told him. Even so, at times he disobeyed, tested her and fucked the way he wanted to fuck her until she exerted her parental authority once again and made him fuck as Mommy wanted and not as the willful and capricious child-man chose.
It was a marvelous and wonderful game, alternately minding and then not minding his mother that way, because there was no real reprimand or pain, only pleasure that rose and increased to even greater pleasure-pleasure that seemed unbearable.
"Coming ... coming now, Roger ... Mommy is coming soon," the voice chanted low in his ear. "Can you come, too?"
"Yes, yes," Roger answered her assuringly.
"You're telling me the truth? You'll come right when I say?"
"Yes, Mother. Just tell me. Oh, Motherrr..."
Now his mother settled down to grinding, steady fucking. She pulled her son this way and that, using the erect tool lodged within her vagina selfishly. She was literally scraping the upper part of her son's prick against her pelvic bone, arching her back and bending the engorged rod to suit her mood, which once again had abruptly changed. No longer was she the loving, tender, sacrificing mother. Now she became a female bound to come-a woman determined to get her orgasm at any cost and God help any man or thing that deterred her.
"Fuck me hard!" she spat. "I said hard! Come down hard, harder! Bang me hard! Can't you fuck harder than that? That's it ... that's it. Now you're fucking. Yes, now you're fucking ... Oh, yes ... FUCKING!"
Again, without warning, Roger felt his mother's mood change. She eased her grip somewhat on his ass and slowed her tempo. Still, she drove with a purpose and she was boss. But now her voice grew loving once again. "Baby, baby ... Oh, fuck Mommy's cunt, baby ... yes, yes. Ummmm ... ummm ... perfect in Mommy's pussy. Oh, soooo perfect ... there ... there ... almost there ... there it is ... there it comes. COME ROGER! PLEASE COME! COME! COME! COME NOW! NOW! NOWWWWW!! ! "
His mother's grip about his neck was desperate as she screamed and wailed and thrashed to completion. Roger plunged with all his might and, a few strokes later, caught up with her and felt the most delicious of all possible sensations surge again and again throughout his body as his cock jolted and he felt his balls flinging out his sperm in mighty bursts, pouring out and spewing into his mother's loving cunt-furnace.
For a long time it was as though Roger had been asleep. Slowly, he became aware of his mother's hand stroking his head and the rocking motion of her body. She was humming softly in his ear and murmuring the word "precious" over and over again as she song-spoke in a rambling, velvet tone and held him to her breast.
"I'm happier than I can ever remember," she said, kissing his cheek. "And you are happy, too, aren't you, darling?"
"I'm happy," Roger said. Actually he was something different from happy. He felt good, but what he felt wasn't just happy. It was something different that he couldn't express. There was maybe a little guilt, not much but a little, but he felt very, very good even though he wouldn't exactly call it "happy."
"I'm something else than happy," he said.
"I know," his mother said. "Men are different. Also, I'm not really happy either. I'm-I'm fulfilled. Do you know what that means? Of course you do. Well, that's the way I feel. Sort of fulfilled and a lot more than just satisfied. I love you, love you, love you. Do you love me more than ever?"
"Yes, I'm sure of that," Roger said. "I don't want to lose you ever. I want to stay next to you all the time and do what we just did every day. Maybe more often than that."
"You're a little piggy," Norman Dunham said. "My son's a little piggy who went to market and went wee, wee, wee all the way home. Remember that poem? I used to play with your toes when you were little and say the piggy poem and you'd laugh at the end." She laughed brightly, remembering.
"This little pussy went to market," Roger said, reaching down and touching her expanded vagina with his prick still wedged inside.
"Not pussy," his mother said. "Piggy. Oh, you are a naughty, naughty boy." She hugged him so hard he thought his ribs might break. "Oh, but I love my naughty boy more than anything."
"I love you, too," Roger said. "Sorry I called the piggy a pussy."
They both laughed.
When Roger withdrew his penis from his mother's vagina, they lay there for a long time touching each other's face and laughing and telling each other how much they loved each other.
"Do you know what I wish?" Roger said. "What?"
"I wish I could quit school and you could quit work and we could stay home together all day every day. Could we?"
Norma Dunham frowned, considering. "No," she said. "No, that would be impossible. That would be too much of a good thing. Besides you have to finish high school so you can go to college. Also, I'd get bored just hanging around the house all the time and so would you."
"I don't care about college anymore. I just care about you. Remember, there are lots of girls at school. What if one tried to take me away from you?" He studied her reaction closely.
"After tonight, we don't have to worry about that, do we?" she said confidently.
"I guess not," Roger admitted. "Not unless you bring that rotten son of a bitch, Richard Gorshin, home again."
"Roger! Just because we're like this-lovers and everything-there's no reason to use foul language. Please don't talk that way around the house. I mean it."
"We were both using foul language a while ago when we were fucking, weren't we?"
Norma Dunham winced. "I-I really wish you would watch your tongue, dear. That wasn't 'foul language' when we were making love. That was-well, it was love-talk. There's a difference. A vast difference."
"The way I see it-I'm a man in this house now," Roger said. "If I want to say 'fuck' I can and if I disagree with you I can say so without worrying that you'll punish me. I'd feel pretty ridiculous sleeping with you every night and then having you try to spank me or something."
Norma Dunham stared at her son intently and frowned. Somehow she knew he had touched on something very basic and whatever it was it disturbed her greatly.
VII
During the following week, Norma Dunham slept with her son every night and experienced the joy of holding him close to her and possessing his strong, young body sexually.
Roger satisfied her innermost cravings and his skill and tenderness as a lover amazed her. With each passing day she felt more and more of a complete woman and the thought of ever loving a man other than her son seemed impossible. Each night she hurried home from work and flung herself into his arms and, usually, they ended up in the bedroom making love for hours before they finally got around to eating dinner. Once, at his insistence, she even took a day off from work and they lolled naked about the house all day, reveling in the sight and touch and taste of each other's naked body.
Not since her honeymoon had Norma known such bliss, and it delighted her to know that Roger craved her lovemaking every bit as much as she craved his. Roger told her everything he had ever thought and done in connection with sex, revealed his secret longings and asked hundreds of questions about females and how they felt about sex. She poured out everything she knew, holding back nothing, and this exchange of forbidden information even further increased their excitement and attraction for each other. Norma became a kind of sex-crazed animal, trying new positions and experimenting with every kind of sexual stimuli (including her vibrator) that she and her son could conjure up.
It was not until the second week of loving and sleeping with Roger that Norma Dunham began to realize that she had created a Frankenstein monster. Sexually, he was still a dream come true, but suddenly it became painfully apparent that, alas, he was not a man but a boy. Males of fifteen years of age were not fully mature, she learned, and trying to maintain order in a house in which a mother was having sexual intercourse with her teenage son posed rather disturbing problems. Not only did Roger become alternately sassy and overly attentive, he even began sleeping in late and refusing to attend school. Any words she uttered that remotely smacked of criticism sent him into violent rage or sullen moping. One night he even threatened to call the police and have her thrown out of the house for seducing a minor, and had locked himself in his room and refused to come out for dinner. He claimed he was punishing her, he said, for treating him undemocratically, and told her she could sleep by herself until further notice or he decided otherwise.
Everything she had shared with him in secrecy now became a weapon he could use on her, it seemed. He called her a pervert because she had used an electric vibrator on herself before their affair had begun. Once he even called her a "whore" because she had dared to sleep with anybody other than himself or his father. A childish streak in her son revealed itself that she had not even dreamed existed.
No matter what television channel she selected he changed it to another program. If she told him they were having meat loaf for dinner he wanted spaghetti. When she tried to engage him in normal conversation he would tell her to "shut up" and "cut out the blabbering." When she remained silent, he accused her of being an empty-headed female with nothing to say. He accused her of laziness, too, because she engaged a maid (Lila) instead of cleaning house like other women. Probably the most humiliating thing of all came when he told her she was a "Lousy lay" and the other girls from school he had fucked had tighter pussies and really appreciated a good lover when they had one.
Yes, Norma Dunham at last realized, making a lover of your son presented very real problems. At first, the delights had been fantastic, supreme, but the price one paid in the long run was far too high. Prohibitive.
It was on a Wednesday evening that she sat him down in the living room and told her son precisely how things were going to be from then on. To her surprise, he listened attentively and displayed the courtesy and respect to her that he had shown prior to the beginning of their sexual relationship. His remarkably good behavior drove home a fact that Norma Dunham had long known but had conveniently forgotten: the unrestrained, undisciplined child (sexual matters aside) longs for direction and guidance every bit as much as his parent knows he needs it. Overindulgence and excess freedom lead only to anarchy, mob rule, and the sooner some kind of authority is established the happier and more secure an unruly, spoiled little brat is likely to become.
And so it was with Roger. Visibly he sighed with relief as his mother laid down the rules. He would attend school and obey her as before. He would treat her and any other adult who entered the house with respect. When he reached eighteen, if he chose, he could get the hell out, but in the meantime he would conduct himself like a human being instead of a ranting jackass.
Once again, civilization returned to the Dunham household and evenings proceeded normally. At bedtime, Roger inquired if he might sleep with his mother. He made this request politely and she could tell by his affectionate manner and bulging erection that he sincerely needed her. Breathing hard, she allowed him to rub her shoulder and lingeringly kiss her on the neck and finally she said it would be all right. She yielded for two reasons: first, she genuinely wanted to sleep with him because he was the best lover she had ever encountered; second, it seemed best to taper them both off sexually over, say, a week's period rather than cutting her son off cold turkey from regular fucking. She did not wish to become too stern a dictator, she rationalized, and since he had demonstrated such willingness to cooperate it seemed wise to temper firmness with realism.
"But by the middle of next week," she breathed as she permitted Roger to lead her to the bedroom, "we have to go back to the way it was before. You understand that, don't you?"
"Yes, Mother," he said, squeezing her breasts, "I-I understand and I promise. I really do."
He didn't, though, and when the following Wednesday arrived Norma had to put her foot down and say, "No." Their fucking had been very good, as always, but Norma Dunham had resolved to endure no more of the kind of chaos she had been exposed to for a while there. Not for anything.
Roger mentioned that he could make love to other girls at school, but he did so politely. And just as politely, Norma told him that was all right with her so long as he didn't catch clap. Roger told her that he would suffer a great deal living in the same house with her and not being able to sleep with her (again politely), and Norma told him that he would just have to suffer and he would probably not die. And if he did die? Well, she would see that he had a proper funeral, she told him, so he needn't give the matter of dying too much thought. No matter how Roger tried to get his mother's sympathy he was no match for her. Not by a long shot.
By the end of the week Roger realized he was dealing with an adult and not another teenager. The painful truth was, he knew he had been outwitted and out-maneuvered at every turn. This knowledge was good for him because it cut him down to teenage size again, but in another way it was not so good for him. He really did love his mother and being able to make love to his mother and now not being able to make love to her truly bothered him, seriously. He had become addicted to her loving and only her loving. This wasn't just a matter of preference for one female over another; it actually affected not his mind but his glands.
Masturbating didn't help him one bit and other girls, by comparison, didn't even come close to delivering the pleasure he had known with his mother. He first tried Ginny Talbot again, without much success, and then he screwed Sheila Lathrop after the Halloween Dance and that was even worse. Nobody, it seemed, could ever duplicate his mother's love-making.
Finally, without telling his mother anything, he decided on a strange form of revenge. It was the strange kind of revenge that only a teenager would devise because, really, it wasn't revenge at all and, besides, the chances of bringing his plan off successfully were a million to one against him. Somehow, he reasoned that since his mother had divorced his father and therefore was not too fond of him, he would visit his father and tell him that his ex-wife want him back. This seemed to be a good idea Roger because he reasoned that once his father and mother were living again together and making love his mother would be suitably punished. What could be better than that? Every night his mother would have to make love to his father, a man she detested!
The fact that Roger's mother and father disliked each other so much that they would never even consider living together again-much less making love-didn't even occur to Roger. By most standards, he was considered bright, but his emotions had gotten the best of him and now he was reasoning like a moron.
VIII
The law offices of Dunham & Mayberry were impressive.
More than a year had passed since Roger had last visited his father there and he had forgotten just how imposing the place was. He sat there in the waiting room this Friday afternoon staring at the leather-bound legal volumes in the bookcases and occasionally peeked at the receptionist's lovely knees. She was really beautiful--raven-black hair, enormous blue eyes, breasts not too small or too large, the kind of face that appears on covers of fashion magazines. Her voice was a velvet-whisper, too, and she had smiled warmly at him and revealed perfect, white teeth. Roger wondered if his father was screwing her very often.
"This is the first time I've had the pleasure of meeting you, Roger," she said. Her name was Vera. "You must not get to San Francisco very often."
Roger stopped staring at Vera's knees. "No, we live in Lanning," Roger said. "I haven't been here in over a year. The last time I visited my father there was another receptionist. I think her name was Wilma or Thelma-something like that. She was a blonde."
"Oh, yes," Vera said. "You mean Irma."
"Yes, that's right. Irma." Roger settled deeper into the leather-cushioned chair and stared around the room at the books, the abstract paintings on the walls, concentrated on everything but Vera's lovely, dimpled knees. II Dad isn't screwing Vera, he thought, he's crazy. Just the sound of her voice sent a kind of electric shock through Roger's testicles.
"Well, your father shouldn't be too much longer," Vera said. "He's still with a client but they'll have to break for lunch soon. You must be very proud to have such a famous lawyer for a father."
Roger nodded. Actually, he seldom gave his father much thought any more. When he had been younger he had worshiped his father. They had gone boating, flying, skiing, everywhere together. He had loved his father very much and whenever people said what a genius Lester Dunham was in the courtroom Roger had swelled with pride and told them he was going to be a lawyer someday, too. Roger even remembered when he did not know what a courtroom was. He had imagined it as something like a large arena though-a place where his father went each day, a gladiator wearing a dark suit and white shirt and tie, to slay evil opponents who stood taller than Goliath or Samson or King Kong.
And he always emerged victorious because he always came home every night. And then the day came when he no longer came home every night because of a thing called divorce. So Roger just stopped thinking about him so much. And after a while Roger stopped thinking about his father at all because it seemed much easier not remembering his father and the way he had once loved him more than anything. So now he didn't think about him anymore.
"Yes, I am very proud of Dad," he said mechanically.
"How did you get here?" Vera asked. "Did somebody drive you in to town?"
"No, I took the bus," he said. "I just didn't feel like going to school today so I decided to take the bus to town and visit Dad."
"You certainly resemble him," Vera said. "Same chin, eyes, forehead. You even smile like him." She smiled.
"Thank you," Roger said, drumming his fingers on the arm of the chair. He was pretty sure that his father was screwing Vera now. In fact, he was certain of it.
The door behind Vera opened just then and Lester Dunham and an elderly white-haired man entered the reception room. Roger stood up and his father introduced him to his client, a Mr. Lippincott. They shook hands and Lippincott left.
"Sorry I'm late, Roger," Lester Dunham said. "Couldn't be avoided." He glanced at his watch. 'We'll go and have lunch right away. Any messages, Vera?"
"No, Les-uh-Mr. Dunham, nothing at all."
"Good. See you in about an hour. We're having lunch at The Chart Room if anything important comes up."
"Yes, sir," Vera said, all business and efficiency once again.
His father's scowl of disapproval at Vera for addressing him by his first name in his son's presence had not gone unnoticed by Roger. Lester Dunham slapped his son on the back. "Well, son, you're not exactly dressed for lunch at The Chart Room but fortunately I have a little influence there. Angelo can find us a quiet back booth, I'm sure. Hungry?"
"Yes, sir."
"Good. Let's go and find out what's on your mind. I've only got about an hour and then I have important business in Oakland to take care of."
The Chart Room was less than two blocks away. Roger and his father walked briskly through the lunch hour foot traffic. Roger still wasn't sure quite how he intended to present what was on his mind to his father, but he guessed he would manage somehow. On the telephone he had said only that he wanted to talk to him today and his father had agreed.
They reached The Chart Room and pushed through the very high double doorway. People waited to be seated but Lester Dunham went directly to the maitre d' and they were immediately seated in a quiet back booth, just as Roger's father had said. The waiter came and asked Dunham if he would care for a cocktail and Dunham said that he would have a martini, very dry. Roger ordered a cola. Roger stared at his father's handsome face which wore a continuous frown and noticed that his sideburns were getting very gray. Vera was right, he thought. He did resemble his father. He studied his father between examining the menu and wondered how this man of ordinary flesh and blood, his father, could be such a success. He wondered if he, too, might inherit this inclination toward success. Was it possible to inherit such a thing? He didn't know and, really, he didn't much care.
"What will it be, Roger?" Lester Dunham asked. "The veal dishes are all excellent. Maybe you'd rather have a steak though."
The waiter brought their drinks and set them on the table.
"I think I'll just have a cheeseburger and a chocolate shake," Roger said. "Do they serve hamburgers here?"
"Oh, I suppose so. Are you sure that's all you want?"
"Yes."
His father turned and glanced about and instantly the waiter arrived. "Yes, Mr. Dunham."
"I'll have the crab salad," he said, "and my son will have the ground sirloin sandwich au gratin and-and a chocolate milkshake." He smiled. "I guess you can manage a cheeseburger and a chocolate shake, can't you?"
The waiter grinned. "Certainly, Mr. Dunham. Anything's possible."
"Good."
The waiter back-stepped away, smiling obsequiously, and Lester Dunham sipped his martini. He puckered his thin lips and set the glass down. "Well, what's on your mind, son?" he asked. "I hope you haven't gotten any of your girl friends in trouble. Anything serious?"
"No, nothing like that," Roger said. "It's about Mother."
"How is she?"
"She's fine, but...."
"Good, I'm glad to hear that."
His father took another sip of his martini and Roger realized suddenly that what he had come to say was ridiculous. Maybe he just wanted to visit his father, he thought. Was that possible? Well, now that he was here he decided to say what he had come to say anyway. "Well, in a way she's not so fine," Roger said, trying to make something important out of this visit now that he was trapped.
"What's wrong with her?"
Roger frowned and raised his thick eyebrows that almost met above his nose like his father's. "Dad, have you ever considered coming back home? I mean-have you ever thought about getting married to Mother again?"
Lester Dunham choked a little and set his drink down. "Roger, did you come here to try and bring about a reconciliation between your mother and myself?"
"Not exactly. It's just that she seems to get lonely at times. I thought if you had any feelings about her that the two of you-well, I thought maybe you could get together again. like that."
Lester Dunham took his gold cigarette case from his pocket, removed a cigarette and lit it. Squinting, he stared at his son and, finally, shook his head as though he had not heard his son correctly. A faint grin creased the corners of his wide mouth briefly and then he was his old frowning self again.
"Roger, you are fifteen now. I realize that fifteen is not the age when boys take on great wisdom. Neither, however, is it an age when lunacy strikes. You're feeling all right, aren't you? Everything's going well in school, isn't it?"
"Yes. Sure."
He nodded. "Good. I thought so or else your mother would have contacted me. This idea of re-uniting your parents wasn't her idea?"
"No."
"I thought not." He exhaled cigarette smoke and watched it curl up toward the ceiling. "And so you decided suddenly that your mother was lonely and that the solution would be for me to marry her again. Just how lonely does she seem? Does she talk to herself or anything? Does she cry a great deal? I mean, do you fear for her mental health in any way?"
"No, not really."
"Hmmm. You know that I do not dislike your mother, Roger. As a matter-of-fact, you could even say we're friends. I provide for both of you financially and I love you because you're my son. I always will love you, Roger. I have an airtight will and you're my principle heir. Also, if you choose and if my work allows I will have lunch with you any time you say. I want you to bring any problems you might ever have to me. You believe me, don't you?"
"Yes, Father," Roger said.
Lester Dunham started to speak, paused and then peered intently at his son. "You're sure everything's all right with you emotionally? Sometimes people get all mixed up-temporarily, of course-and they go and see trained people who can help them. It can happen to anybody, Roger. It could even happen to me. Are you okay?"
"Dad, I'm not emotionally disturbed and I don't need a psychiatrist or anything if that's what you mean. I'm sane. Honest."
Lester Dunham breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank God. For a minute I wasn't quite sure. Well, now that we've established that I can speak freely. Did you actually come here to discuss your mother remarrying me and nothing else? If that's the case, then I think maybe you are insane. You're old enough to understand that your mother and I are divorced. Ideally, for your sake, we'd still be married. But we're not. We don't love each other any longer. We prefer being apart. You're bright and normal and you have to accept that. Now tell me the truth. Why did you really want to have lunch with me?"
The waiter arrived with their food and both of them started eating.
Roger decided to drop the whole thing. He decided that perhaps the business of sleeping with his mother, falling in love with her and then having her reject him had affected his brain in some way or other. He forgave himself, though. How many boys screwed their mothers? Yes, he had been entitled to a little craziness, but now it was over and he could return to normality again.
"Why did I really want to have lunch with you?" he repeated. "Well, Dad, to tell the truth I just didn't feel like going to school today. I thought I'd just mosey on into San Francisco and have a chat. How's that for a reason?"
"It's a hell of a lot better than the reason you gave me to begin with. You really shook me up. Jesus H.Christ!"
Lester Dunham reached across the table and squeezed his son's shoulder and they both laughed. Roger told him all about school and answered his father's questions about every detail of his life-every detail except that he'd been sleeping with his mother. He didn't think his father would understand that somehow, so he left that out.
When they had finished lunch Roger was pleased that his father suggested they have lunch once a week. "Let's make it Saturdays." he said. "If for some reason either of us can't make it, we'll telephone and cancel, okay?"
"Sure, Dad," Roger said. "Great. Except I won't get a chance to feast my eyes on that receptionist, Vera," he said.
His father picked up the check. "Why do you think I want us to have lunch on Saturdays," he said. "I don't want any competition." He winked. "She is sort of a good-looking girl, isn't she?"
"You can say that again."
Outside, Lester Dunham walked at a near run, as usual. They took the elevator to the fourth floor, went down the hall and entered the office. "Any messages?" Lester Dunham asked.
"Just Mr. Mayberry," Vera said, tugging at her bra strap. "He's going to play another eighteen holes and he said not to worry about Salinger versus Copperfield. Mr. Copperfield is willing to settle."
Roger saw that his father was delighted. "Wonderful," he said. "See, son? If you ever become a lawyer, be sure and get a law partner who plays golf. Mayberry just made us a bundle with a client on the golf course."
"I'll remember that," Roger said.
"Well, I got to run now. See you later." He laughed. "Oh, Vera, my son has developed very good taste. He finds you attractive. 'Bye."
When his father had gone, Roger turned to leave himself and maybe even catch up with his father at the elevator, but Vera said, "That was very nice of you to say something nice of me to your father."
Roger ran his eyes slowly from Vera's breasts down to her dimpled knees which unfortunately were partly obscured by her desk. "How do you know it was nice?" he said.
Vera blinked her long lashes. "Yes, you are like your father, aren't you."
The conversation with his father had stimulated him. Somehow restablishing their friendship had put him in a devilish mood. He suddenly felt very masculine and very adult. "How do you know I'm just like my father?" he asked. "Maybe in some ways I'm different."
"That's true," Vera said. "But the more you say the more I'm sure you're like him. You even sound like a lawyer."
"What I say isn't everything though," Roger went on, pursuing the game. "It's what people do that counts. Tell me, do you and my father do things or do you just talk?"
"What did he tell you at lunch?" Vera asked coyly but definitely curious.
"How badly do you want to know?"
"Seriously, did he tell you anything about us?"
"He didn't have to. You called him Les the first time you talked to him in front of me. After that you called him sir, right?"
Vera hit her forehead with her palm. "God, you notice everything! How old did you say you were?"
"I didn't say, but I'm fifteen. Do you think that's old enough."
"For what?"
"For what you know I'm talking about."
Again, she blinked her eyelashes. "Fifteen is sort of young," she said. "Especially for a girl who works for the fifteen-year-old's father."
"Not if the fifteen-year-old doesn't tell."
"Fifteen-year-old's are discreet? Good at keeping secrets?"
"They have to be. How else could they peek at receptionist's dimpled knees? And what women would make love to them if they weren't trustworthy? "
It was the first time Roger had said right out what was on his mind. Vera's eyes lowered unconsciously to his waist and just below his waist. "God, you are so much like your father you scare me. I mean it. Tell me the truth. Did he really say anything about me?"
"I'll tell you if you're nice to me." Roger went around behind her and began rubbing her neck gently. He was amazed at his own courage.
He rubbed Vera's neck and shoulders for a moment and she leaned forward, enjoying the massage. "Is it a deal?" he asked.
"I-I don't know," she said, obviously aroused. "The office isn't exactly the place for..." She broke off suddenly. "What am I saying? You're only fifteen. Maybe you-you better just leave, Roger. You seem very nice but I-I don't think this is-well, I-I'm not sure this is proper."
Roger decided to retreat for just a moment. "Say," he said, "I haven't looked around Dad's office for a long time. Would you show me around, Vera? Take me for a little tour?"
"Sure," she said. "That's permissible I guess. Follow me."
She stood up and led him through one of the imagine doors to a large room. It, too, was lined with shelves filled with legal books and in the center, toward the rear of the room, was an enormous desk surrounded by leather chairs. Against one wall was a giant couch and a coffee table. Roger eyed the couch thoroughly, looking for some sign that it was collapsible. He went over, bent down and ran his hand along the crack that ran the length of the thing, pushing as he felt. Finally, toward the very end, there was the sound of a spring releasing and the inner part of the couch slipped forward about a foot. Turning, he said, "Somehow I knew Dad must have something to lie down on in his office with a secretary as pretty as you. You see, fifteen-year-olds are sometimes capable of using logic."
Vera sighed, defeated and smiling at the same time. She opened her lovely mouth to speak but Roger raised his hand and cut her off. "Don't tell me," he said. "Let me guess. You're going to come to the defense of your boss and explain that sometimes Mr. Dunham works very hard and feels the need to lie down and rest, right?"
"Right," she said, her eyes gleaming.
"May I make several other observations?" Roger asked.
"Go ahead, Mr. Lawyer. You seem to be in the courtroom, so go ahead. The defense rests its case."
"Why doesn't the defense rest her body on the couch?" Roger pulled out the inner part of the sofa so that it resembled a bed-nice and big and comfortable. Vera wagged her hips as she crossed the room and sat down. "What observations did you have in mind, sir?" she asked.
"First, I notice that there's a nice bolt on the door which means that nobody can enter unless people inside the room want them to, right?"
"That is correct."
Roger went over and slid the bolt shut. "Second, my father will be gone for quite a while on business and his partner, Mr. Mayberry, is at the golf course with another client."
"True, but you forgot about the telephone, and what if somebody just walks in?
"You do two things. You lock the outer door and then people will just have to come back later. As far as the telephone is concerned, there is an Answering Service. When the phone rings more than six times they answer and take messages. I've called after hours and got them myself."
Roger returned to the couch, sat down and put his arm around Vera's waist. "I think you're maybe the prettiest girl I ever saw," he said. "I'm not trying to be a wise-ass or anything." The scent of her cologne was driving him crazy. He swallowed hard, amazed that his courage had enabled him to proceed this far. He wouldn't have been surprised at all if she had told him to get the hell out. Instead, she stared down at his crotch and saw that his erection stood pushing hard against his pants.
"May I make a few observations now?" she asked.
Here it comes, Roger thought. She's going to throw me out. "Go ahead," he said, his heart beating wildly.
"First, you are no ordinary fifteen-year-old." She stared at his sizable hard on. "And in one respect you are like your father, believe me. Second, you are wrong about the outer door. We don't have to lock it. Nobody is expected and people just don't casually drop in the office of Lester Dunham. It takes an invitation practically. Third, your father would kill us both if he knew what we're about to do." She turned her back to him. "Unzip me, would you?"
Roger nearly fell off the collapsible couch. He had heard that being aggressive often worked with girls but he had never had the courage to test the idea. Here was a gorgeous woman-his father's mistress-inviting him to unzip her blouse and make love to her! He sat frozen, unable to move, terrified. She glanced over her shoulder to see what he was waiting for, saw the problem and turned facing him. She put her hand on his upper leg and brushed her cheek against his.
"Oh, has my big man suddenly lost his courage? I must admit I was impressed with your confidence. Now you've really got me curious and there's no turning back. The door is bolted." She kissed his cheek with parted lips and ran her hand on his leg up to his erection and squeezed. "Still want to stay?" she asked.
Roger pressed his lips against her inviting mouth and kissed her hard. Instantly, her tongue played games with his and she encircled her arms about his shoulders. She ceased kissing him and ran her hand through his hair tantalizingly. "Tell you what. I won't even make you tell me what your father said about me. I want you just because you're you, all right?"
Roger turned her around and slowly unzipped the back of her blouse. She helped him slip it off her head and then he fumbled with her bra clasp until it came loose. At the sight of her twin ivory beauties jutting firmly forward and the large coral nipples already erect, Roger lost his head completely. "Oh, God!" he muttered and buried his face between them.
Vera cooed encouragingly and held his head as he squeezed the big tits in his hands and gobbled at the nipples noisily. After a while, Roger let his hand drop to her rounded stomach and then down over her dimpled knees. He lay her back on the large couch and ran his hand up her inner thigh.
"My, you are an eager boy," she said, unbuttoning his fly, slipping her hand searchingly inside and clasping his thick rod hard in her hand.
"Ummra, you're even bigger than your daddy!" she said. "I can't believe it. What a lovely, delicious cock," she murmured. "Take it out so I can see it and-and kiss it. Oh, Roger!"
Roger was so concerned with running his hand up her leg to her cunt that he barely heard her pleas but then, just as his hand lighted on the moist crease of her slit beneath the sheer panties, he became aware that Vera was a most skillful veteran with a prick. She was running her entire palm over the head of his organ so that its drippings bathed every sensitive pore in a steady, almost orgasmic sensation. She was handling his prong the way one handles the stick shift of an automobile.
Roger toyed with her clit, rubbing it gently between his thumb and forefinger for a while, then slowly inserted his middle finger into her gushing honey chasm. He slid his finger steadily in and out, her ass pumping to aid his efforts, as he nursed even harder on her breasts. Vera had his cock really begging for cunt-heat now as she alternately ran her fingers ticklingly up and down the length of the shaft and clamped it hard in a vise-like grip between her palms. She liked to fondle his balls, too, and often got carried away as she kneaded the sensitive gloves.
"It's been so long since I was with a teenager-not since I was a teenager myself-that I forgot how nice and full a boy's scrotum can be," she rasped. "Ummm, I have the most insane desire to put your balls in my mouth, Roger. Your cock and your balls and everything. Do you--you like to-I mean, would you like to kiss my pussy a little?" she inquired invitingly.
Roger withdrew his finger from her cunt and held it up. It glistened from her love juice and lovingly he put it in his mouth and licked his finger clean. That was all the answer Vera needed. She hastily stripped away the rest of her clothes and Roger undressed completely, too. Then, for the second time in his life, he found himself sixty-nining. Vera's body was much firmer than his mother's, he noticed, drawing each of Vera's tasty cunt lips (they were like little filet mignons) deep into his mouth and massaging her rotating ass hard with his hands as he ate.
Roger did not believe it possible for a stranger to enjoy sucking a male's prick so intensely. Vera groaned and mewed and made yum-yum sounds as she gobbled on his engorged member.
Several times, she stopped sucking and just grunted appreciatively at the workings of his own mouth on her vagina while she slowly jacked his prick off and admired his over-sized genitals.
"Oh, such a rock-hard cock," she groaned. "What a beauty, Roger. Your prick is a beautiful, delicious work of art!" Then she dived at the object of her lust once again and stuffed it in her mouth and began eating it whole. Roger didn't know whether to cease dining on Vera's love hole and just enjoy the delightful, unbelievable workings of her mouth on his rod or to try to swallow her pussy whole.
Such conflicting desires warred within him felt on the verge of insanity! Sixty-nining was a miraculous and wonderful thing, but it presented certain problems.
Problem was, he didn't know whether to give or to get. It was hard to concentrate on cunt-eating when your cock was getting sucked! He vaguely sensed that maybe people should do one or the other. At least when fucking both parties had no problem because, like the old saying, one hand washes the other, or in this case, one genital washes the other.
Suddenly Vera must have felt the same way, too, for she stopped cocksucking and asked, "Do you want to fuck now, Roger? Oh, this is driving me out of my mind. What do you want to do? Do you want to come in my mouth ... you can shoot your come in my mouth if you want, Roger ... I don't care ... anything ... Oh Christ! I don't care. I just don't care. Do you want to stick it up my ass? Do you? Oh, God ... anything ... anything! I know! Fuck me dog-style, would you Roger? Would you, please? Turn me over on my stomach and I'll get up on my hands and knees and you can fuck me with your big cock from the rear. You can even stick it in my rear if you want. Anything you want...."
Her idea of fucking appealed to Roger. One thing was certain. He couldn't stand much more of this sucking. It was beautiful and felt better and better all the time, but he had to sink his cock in something more substantial soon or he would become a blithering idiot. He rolled Vera over on her stomach as she had suggested and parted her legs. Her ass was the roundest, firmest, loveliest ass he had ever seen. It had never really occurred to him to fuck a girl up the rear before but the idea seemed a good one as he admired the exquisite swell and curve of Vera's perfect butt. He palmed her ass and panted for a moment, deliberating, uncertain, and then Vera scooted up on all fours and gasped over her shoulder at him.
"Stick me! Stick me!" she cried. "Stick that big, thick pole anyplace you want, sugar boy!"
Roger held his tool like some missile about to be launched as he crawled forward on his knees. Vera's dark hair curled in wet, dark ringlets about her cunt and ass-hole and he wished-really wished-he had two cocks instead of just one for the first of many times in his life. How he yearned to fuck her tight little ass-hole and cunt at the same time! As his pelvis neared her buttocks which she held spread wide apart with both hands, he--he had to make a decision quickly. The absence of heat on his cock was painful after the warmth of her mouth and he had to imbed himself in something soon. He decided then to fuck her pussy for a while first and then, if he had the willpower and didn't get too carried away, he would transfer his prick from cunt to ass-hole.
"Hurry, Roger," Vera begged. "Hurry up and fuck me, please? Oh, please! Give me that cock! I have to have it! Don't torture Vera, please?"
Roger experienced for the first time in his young life the complete knowledge that women were every bit as anxious as men. His mother had taught him plenty, true, but here was this gorgeous beauty-queen of a woman pleading with him to fill her hole with his hot meat. Just a trace of sadism filled him as he slowly fed his ram-rod into this whimpering girl's snatch.
"Ahhhh," she sighed ecstatically as he pierced and felt her vaginal walls clench in satisfaction. He proceeded gently at first, until his cock was about halfway inside her, and then he shoved forward hard and penetrated all the way with one quick squishing stroke right up the center.
Vera reached behind with both hands then and tugged hard on his pumping ass with one hand and fondled his dangling balls with the other.
Her pleas and sighs of delight and satisfaction were something to hear. "Oh, fuck my cunt, you beautiful fucker darling," she cried. It was as though she were speaking in some alien language-a special fuck tongue-as she babbled on incoherently. "Fill me up-all the way up to my tummy ... argmm ... ooowh ... ughh ... cram it ... Oh, yes, cram, cram, jam it, jam it ... ummmm ... urrrr..."
Roger wielded his meat like some mighty weapon, savoring the weird noises that gurgled from her throat, delighting in her grunts of pleasure as he speared her box. Actually, since he did not know Vera very well this was an entirely different fuck than he had ever experienced. He was somewhat detached, uninvolved, and therefore he was able to be a little analytical as he plunged his gristle hunk again and again into this squirming female who had become the object of his pleasure. He thought about the texture of the inside of her pussy, evaluated the density of her lubricant, watched the pink folds of her vaginal lips submerge and then reappear each time his prick thumped the quivering cheeks of her ass. He imagined that his penis was a piston and savored its upstroke and downstroke-intake, compression, downstroke, exhaust ... intake, compression, downstroke, exhaust. Yes, in a way, she was a little like one of the rides at an amusement park and he was enjoying himself immensely because he held a fist full of tickets on the best ride of all-a breathtaking ride to orgasm and soon he would wham-tingle-pop-spurt to come heaven.
"Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me!" the amusement park ride was begging. "Oh, Roger, I don't believe it ... I-I keep coming all the time ... over and over and over again ... each time it-it lasts so long ... Oh ... Oh ... there I go again ... Ohhhhhhhhhhh ... Ohhhhhhhhhh ... Roger rrrrrr..."
Roger listened to her scream and almost smiled as the pitch of her voice wavered, first high, then low. To think my cock is doing this to her, he thought. My cock is driving her out of her mind!
And then, just as suddenly as he had become so detached and apart from this wonderful fuck, he was no longer detached but completely involved and lost in the warmth and wonder of this female who had allowed him this most intimate access to her pleasure places. His brain reeled, his body shuddered, his vision blurred. As though in a clawing, misty wet-dream he saw the tiny button of her ass-hole and knew that he wanted to sink his manhood into it. He had never fucked a woman there before but he intended to fuck Vera's ass.
Roger backed far away from Vera, withdrawing his shiny-wet prong with a loud slurp, then pressed its bulbous head eagerly at her ass-hole. Could she take it all? he wondered. He guessed she could. Why else would she have asked him to fuck her there earlier? Slowly, torturously, he began easing his dong into the tight aperture.
"Ohhhhhh," Vera moaned, enraptured with what he was doing. "I-I've only been fucked in my rear once before by-by somebody smaller, but yes, oh yes, fuck my ass-hole, darling. Ouch ... Oh ... Eeee ... easy ... easy ... God, it's so big, but I want it in there ... easy ... yes ... there it's going in, isn't it? Isn't it? Yes, there it's going in now ... Wonderful, but slow, easy ... yes, ummm..."
Gradually, Vera's muscles relaxed and once the big head of his cock had found heat and smooth inner flesh the going became easier. Roger stared at the rim of her little hole stretched almost to the breaking point and marveled at the elasticity of flesh. It seemed impossible but he was three-quarters of the way in. Vera reached back and helped with her hand. The feel of his elephant trunk nearly all the way into her rear excited her and she emitted a self-congratulatory squeal at her own ability to accommodate the giant prober. Perhaps thirty seconds passed, and then, the prick was lodged totally in Vera's grateful rectum.
"Now fuck it, Roger," she commanded hoarsely. "It's all the way in now and I want you to fuck my butt. Oh, do I ever want you to screw my ass-hole!"
It was incredible the way her voice had lowered. Roger thrust evenly and listened to the urging that came from deep down in her throat. Here he was fucking his father's mistress and she was loving it probably even better than when his father fucked her! Here he was fucking beautiful Vera-the dream of a woman who had seemed so unapproachable with the dimpled knees-right in the ass and she was loving every second of it!
"Does it hurt?" he breathed.
"Ohhhh, nooooo," she replied. "It's wonderfulllll ... wonderfulll...."
"How does it feel? Does it really feel that good? Doesn't it hurt even a little?"
"At first, but not-not nowwwww. Ummmmm, tickle my clit with your finger at the same time. Please? Oh, this is going to be the best come ever. I can tell. Oh, Jesus ... Jesus...."
Roger reached around her hip and found her clitoris and began massaging the pleasure nub as he increased the tempo of his fucking.
"Oh, Christ. I never felt anything like this," she groaned. "Not ever ... not ever ... in my life ... Fuck me, you fifteen-year-old genius. Fuck me, you Romeo ... you Casanova. You're a magician ... I-I just don't believe it! This is better than anything...."
Roger wasn't sure he could hold back much longer. He knew he wasn't the magician. She was! The tightness of her, the insatiable cries of pleasure she kept uttering were carrying him to fantastic heights. No woman had ever made him feel more totally a man-not his mother, Sheila, Ginny, anyone! No wonder his father liked fucking her. She was every man's dream come true! He couldn't believe his luck.
"I-I'm getting ready to come," he gasped. "I don't think I can wait. I-I don't, Vera. I really don't."
"Just a moment longer, my young stallion," she said. "I'm almost there. Rub harder on my clit and I'll get there any second."
Roger slowed his pace out of necessity. His scrotum which Vera manipulated every bit as fact as he rubbed her clit was raised high and ready to spew his jism. Ripples of shimmering, pulsating pleasure ran up and down his spine and through his loins, tripped endlessly about his shaft and balls and rectum, even as far away as his toes and fingertips. His entire body was one trembling, anticipating pleasure blob.
Vera told him she was coming now. Her breath-whines began low, then came closer together, louder, louder, louder still until she was screaming the ceiling off with shrieks of hysterical, agonizing grunts of absolute and total completion. Her body bucked bronco-like as the electric current of climax jolted her. She thrashed crazily, begging for the good feeling to cease before she lost her mind.
"God, noooooooo ... I can't stand any-morrrrrrrrrrre," she wailed.
Roger was right with her, his testicles dancing in her clenched hand as they flung forth their contents and scalding blasts of sperm made their way up his shaft and into the dark recesses of Vera's innards.
"I can feel it drenching me!" she panted, her orgasm on the downgrade at last. "I swear I can feel your juice hosing me inside!"
Roger continued firing his love juice, endlessly it seemed, as he clutched her hips hard to steady his own involuntary motion. His shoulders flapped forward, then back, back and forth like a kite in a violent wind as his eyeballs rolled to the back of his head.
Finally, they both fell forward and lay prone and panting, Vera shuddering on her stomach and, Roger, still bone-hard, still impaling her piggy-back on top her. His breath was a rasping, frightening thing, like that of some marathon runner about to expire as he salivated in her ear.
Eventually, they turned to their sides and lay cuddled and cooing gratefully to each other. "Don't you ever touch me again," Vera whispered, grinning. "That was about as close to dying as I care to come. Before you pick out a bride be sure you take her to a doctor and have her thoroughly checked out-blood pressure, heart, everything. Otherwise you might just end up a widower on your wedding night."
"I'll do that," Roger promised. "And you be careful who you let seduce you, too. I may be fifteen but I feel eighty right now!"
They both giggled at this and agreed that it was possible for two people to be too sexually compatible for their own good.
"Absolutely unbelievable," Vera said when she had completely dressed herself at last. She staggered to the wall and braced herself as Roger finished putting on his shoes. He got up then, blinked and made his way to the reception room. Vera kissed him and shook her head. She collapsed into her chair behind the desk. "Do I look all right?" she asked in a nervous tone.
"I guess you'll live," Roger replied. "How about me? Do I pass inspection? "
"Yes, but I think I'm going to sue you. Right. I'm taking you to court and have you locked up. Somehow you've got to .be kept away from women! After a session with you a girl is ruined for any other man for the rest of her life. There's no comparison. I hope you're satisfied, you devil. I hope your fifteen-year-old ego is happy that you managed to seduce your father's girlfriend and now she's telling you how downright good you are! I swear, if I had a trophy I'd give it to you. But it would serve you right if you tripped carrying it and broke your little neck. At least you wouldn't go around spoiling females for other poor, mortal men!"
Roger beamed. "I guess I am flattered. You are the most beautiful girl I ever expect to make love to and I guess I will always be a better lover because of you. I mean that."
"You're sweet," Vera said.
"Did anybody ever tell you that you have lovely dimpled knees?"
"Don't start anything, Roger," Vera said. "I'm warning you. I'm-I'm just not up to it. Go and find yourself a nice young, athletic girl to seduce. I mean that. You make me feel all fluttery inside when you look at me that way and say those things."
Roger leaned over her desk and planted a platonic kiss on her forehead. Then he walked to the door and stopped with his hand on the doorknob. "Oh, I forgot to tell you," he said. "Dad didn't say anything much about you at lunch-only that he thought you were attractive and that he didn't want any competition. That's the truth. He didn't talk about you."
Vera smiled affectionately and raised her lovely eyebrows. "Of course he didn't," she said. "And neither will you because you're both Dunhams-every inch of you. A girl senses these things, Roger. You'll understand more when you're older. That is, if some man doesn't kill you for stealing his girlfriend." Vera blew him a kiss. '"Bye, sweet. I'm glad it happened. Honest."
"Me, too," Roger said. "Dad's lucky. Goodbye."
IX
Roger's sexual affair with his father's receptionist cured him forever of the idea that he could never enjoy making love with anybody but his mother.
Norma Dunham immediately noticed a change in her son's attitude and felt great relief. The lust she had allowed to run rampant for her son had nearly destroyed them both, but now things were back to normal and she was relieved. In celebration, she decided to ask Roger if he wanted to have a party and invite a group of boys and girls his own age to the house. When she approached him about the idea he seemed delighted and they scheduled the party for the coming Saturday night. Roger invited Phil Kendall, Ray Stevens, Ginny Talbot, Sheila Lathrop, Lori Bassey and all his other liberal-minded friends. Altogether there were ten girls and boys, including himself.
On the night of the party Norma left the house just before Roger's guests were to arrive with Richard Gorshin to go to a movie.
"Have fun, dear," she said. "Feel free to do anything you like with your friends but try not to destroy the house. I should be back shortly after midnight."
"All right, Mom," Roger said. "Thanks again for letting me have this party. I'll see that the place stays intact." He kissed her dutifully on the cheek and they both seemed happy that their relationship was once again that of a normal mother and son.
By eight-thirty, all of the guests had arrived and everybody sat in the dimly-lit living room drinking wine and smoking grass. Everybody had paired off and had begun the preliminaries of lovemaking as they lolled on cushions on the floor. Roger was with the new girl, Lori Bassey, and he could tell that there was a magic kind of chemistry between them. After his prolonged affair with his mother and his sex session with Vera it felt good to feel his hard on pressing into the stomach of a girl his own age.
"I really love your house, Roger," Lori said, her eyelids heavy with lust and desire as they lay tightly pressed together on the floor. "I was hoping that the first time we finally got together everything would be perfect. This place is really scrumptious. You're such a doll, Roger. Really."
Roger groaned instead of answering and pumped his prick harder into Lori's abdomen. In a minute, both of his hands were up under her sweater and rubbing her warm, firm tits. "I love the way you touch a girl," Lori cooed. "If I didn't know you better I'd say you've had an awful lot of experience with older women. You seem to know exactly what a girl-likes and just how to go about exciting her. It's amazing. I really mean it."
Roger grinned, enjoying his secret. Yes, he had been fortunate to have a couple of very skilled instructresses and he foresaw a lifetime of happy, uninhibited sex thanks to his mother and Vera. Everything was going to be just fine from now on and he felt deeply indebted to chance or fate or whatever it was that had led him to such a variety of experience at such an early age.
As he played with Lori's breasts and probed her mouth with his tongue he watched the other couples writhing and breathing hard on the floor. Ginny Talbot, as usual, wasn't wasting any time with her boy for the evening, Bill Warren, a very tall and thin basketball player on the school team who possessed a most unique-looking prick. He was uncircumcised and his organ bent slightly to one side, like a banana.
The odd-shape of his tool didn't seem to bother Ginny at all, though, for she was sucking it expertly, her head making a sort of C-like bobbing movement as she worked up and down. Bill lay back with his mouth open and breathing hard as Ginny sucked his odd-shaped member. His pants were down to his ankles and Ginny was really making a meal of his crotch as the sounds of her sucking rose above other noises in the room.
Phil was working a little differently than he had in the past. Instead of fucking or sucking his partner, or even indulging in conventional preliminaries, he had Susan Hargrove's dress up to her waist and was staring into her pussy as he finger-fucked her. It was really a pleasure to see such a prim and proper girl such as Susan sitting there with her legs apart and enjoying it as Phil lay with his cheek against the carpet staring into her cunt as his fingers probed and parted her furry little nest.
Yes, this party was certainly turning out to be a success, Roger thought, taking his own bulging erection out now so that Lori could play with it. Roger continued watching each of the couples as Lori squealed happily and began jacking him off. Things couldn't be going better. Here he was getting his rod fondled and watching his friends move steadily forward to their respective goals of sexual fulfillment.
What was Ray Stevens doing with Kathy Fields there in the corner? he wondered, squinting and trying hard to figure out the meaning of their position. Finally, he realized what they were up to. Ray was completely naked and sat straddling Kathy's chest (she was naked, too) so that he could fuck between her enormous breasts. He held the two huge mammaries tightly together so that they exerted a cunt-like pressure as he fucked the crack between them. On each down-stroke, as Ray's ramrod appeared on the far side of her tits, Kathy would tongue its purplish head. If Ray held his position for any length of time little Kathy would take the entire head between her lips and really work the cock over thoroughly. Or, as seemed more frequently the case, when Ray let his cock appear only briefly, Kathy would merely give the tip of his organ a few flicks of her lengthy tongue before it disappeared once again between the twin mountains.
Of all the guests, Roger suspected that Ralph Huntzinger and Judy Pierce were the most inventive. Watching them, Roger wished that he had some kind of award to present them for their efforts. The two had been going steady for quite a while now and no doubt found it necessary to seek different methods of stimulation to keep their coupling alive and fresh. They lay on the floor on their sides, in a sixty-nine position, but instead of mouthing each other's organs they were using their hair for genital stimulation! Judy had placed her long strawberry-colored tresses so that they ran from Ralph's tail-bone to his pecker. She was jiggling her head and, at the same time, pressing her shiny hair so that it tickled her partner's rectum, balls and cock. As she delivered this unusual form of stimulation, Ralph reciprocated in a like manner with his own long, dark hair. His hair fell well below his shoulders and he, too, ran his curly locks from Judy's tailbone to her clitoris with the kind of see-saw motion one makes with a towel on his privates after taking a shower.
Both of them sighed and babbled incoherently as they applied their hair to each other's crotches. Roger studied their efforts carefully so that he might imitate them someday when his hair grew long enough.
"Hey!" Lori protested, holding Roger's cheeks between her fingers. "Will you please pay some attention to me instead of the others?"
"Sorry, Lori," he apologized, "but a host has responsibilities you know. I have to make sure everybody is having a good time."
Lori took one of his hands from her breasts and then, squirming out of her panties, placed his hand against her sopping wet cunt. She was very specific in indicating what she wanted. She separated his middle-finger from his other fingers and placed its tip against her nerve center and rotated it lightly against her clit.
"Get the idea?" she said. "Please, Roger? I want it to be good for us. I've waited too long to be with you for you to suddenly become a look-freak on me." She bent down and planted a hungry kiss on the pulsing head of his meat and squeezed. Roger kept her there, directing her to suck on it for a while as he continued jiggling his finger back and froth at the top of her pussy.
"That's my good girl," he said with authority. "Just chew on Big Ben for a while until I tell you to stop. Don't worry, Lori. There's lots of time for us to come. I'll take good care of my pretty girl's little puss when the time arrives. Right now, just suck nice and slow, like you really mean it."
Lori obeyed, taking long slow strokes with her smoothly wet mouth as she sucked on his cock.
Roger held her head with both hands to show her exactly how fast he wanted her indented cheeks to feast on and drain the lubricant from his engorged member. He watched her closed, fluttering eyelids and nursing mouth as she ministered to his needs. Yes, this was a splendid party, he thought.
And to think that only a few short months ago he had been a virgin! Well, now he knew the ropes and even used authority with girls such as Lori. Here he was commanding this luscious beauty to suck his cock and precisely how to do it. Speaking of his having been a virgin, he suddenly saw that Sheila-his first piece of ass-was up on hands and knees and taking in her partner's big prick to the hilt. Her hair hung down in her face and she was completely lost in the pleasure that the flesh instrument delivered to her eager vagina.
Just then, lovely Lori accidentally brushed his own cock with her teeth. Her mistake was caused by over-eagerness, he knew, but he wanted to prevent the unpleasant feeling from occurring again. He tugged on her hair rather sharply and said, "No teeth, Lori! Just suck with your mouth and lips, do you hear?"
Lori whimpered apologetically, wincing a little from his pull on her hair as she resumed more graceful strokes with smooth, hot flesh only.
Roger watched her, savoring each delicious gobble from her mouth, enjoying the sucking sounds and mews as she rendered this service to his organ. Yes, things had changed all right, Roger thought, surveying the room. Whereas before he had been an immature and inept lover, at best, tonight he was possibly the most experienced cunt-fucker in the room. He knew what women liked and how to meet their needs. He even knew that he could take liberties with girls he had once thought unapproachable. Lori, for instance. Three months ago, he would have groveled and stammered in appreciation if she had even permitted him to hold her hand. Now he knew that a female wanted a male just as much as a male wanted a female. In a different way perhaps, but this knowledge had opened up whole new vistas for him. Hell, he could fuck the Queen of England and not feel beholden because, after all, she was just another female with a pussy which was designed for fucking. He did not feel sadistic or arrogant, but he did feel very adult and worldly. Roger Dunham had come of age! Someday, when he found exactly the right girl and after he had finished college and established himself in a career, he would be a tender, considerate and skilled lover. He would be kind and considerate, too, but most of all he would know how to take his wife to the very heights of sexual fulfillment and ecstasy. That was a good feeling and, really, that was the essence of what he felt at this moment.
His thoughts became less vague when a moment later Lori's patient sucking on his cock nearly brought him to orgasm. He stopped her motion just in time and lay her on her back. "Thanks, Lori," he said gently. "I didn't mean to get rough a while ago. I-I guess I just lost my head. You're a beautiful girl and I like you very much. I wouldn't want you to think I was some kind of nut." He kissed her cheek and then began rubbing her dripping love hole.
"Oh, I'm so hot," she said. "You do strange things to a girl. Even when you're rough you-you make a girl really feel like a woman, Roger."
Roger sucked skillfully on her nipples for a while and she cradled his head in her smooth hands gratefully as he worked. She told him she loved him more than any boy she had ever known. This spurred him on and he teased her pubic hair and pussy lips adoringly as he nursed until, finally, he descended and used every device he knew to drive her out of her mind.
He dined on every inch of her cunt, concentrating on all her most sensitive places, until she tried to tear his head from her parted legs. He told her it was all right though, and then she threw her head back and let him make her come with his tongue. The next time she tugged at his head he knew it was because she had reached a climax and not because she wanted to save herself for his penis.
Experience was a good thing to have, he told himself. For instance, he knew when a girl had come by the taste of her cunt now and not only her movement. Nobody could fool him. When they got watery you knew they had come. They just tasted different. It was as simple as that. He knew, too, that after a rest she would be ready to come again-this time with his prick. That way she could come twice-once in a kind of surface, clitoral way, and then again in a deeper more intense way. Of course, some girls had distinct preferences and you couldn't work miracles. Some girls did not like to come with a tongue, or rather they preferred the deeper coming with a cock.
Other girls didn't seem to be able to come another way except with your tongue or with your finger against their clits. A lot of it was psychological and sort of complicated, but at least
Roger felt he had a good foundation of sexual knowledge at a fairly early age. He rubbed Lori's back now, letting her calm down and rest awhile before he stuck his cock up her and made her come that way. He silently thanked his mother and the other females who had contributed to his sexual know-how.
"Was it good?" he asked Lori.
"Oh, yes," she panted. "It was wonderful. But I-I just didn't want to finish that way. I-I wanted to save myself for you-for both of us."
"I know," Roger said, secure in his superior knowledge. "I understand how you feel. But in a while we can both come. There's no reason why you can't come twice-each time in a different way."
"Oh, Roger," Lori squealed. "You're so different from other boys. You're so-so adult and wonderful. You really do know everything about girls, don't you? I bet you were a female in another life or something. Do you suppose that's possible? I mean, do you believe in reincarnation?"
"I don't know about that," Roger said. "But I do know that I want to fuck you, and whether you came or not with my tongue won't hurt anything."
"You're wonderful, Roger!" she said. "Just wonderful!"
"No, I'm not," he said, thinking that really he was. He had a frightening thought just then. He wondered if all he thought he knew about girls was really true. After all, he could be wrong, couldn't he? This truly scared him. He did not want to walk around thinking he knew all about girls and sex and really not know anything. That would be too humiliating to bear. Embarrassing. He decided that maybe he'd better keep his ears open and ask around a bit more before he became so cocksure about his present knowledge. Maybe the kind of knowledge he sought required a lifetime to learn. After all, girls were very complicated and strange and wonderful things, and he'd better not make the mistake of basing his entire approach on the limited contacts he'd been fortunate to have. Yes, he'd better experience a lot more sex with all kinds of women before he started writing textbooks on the subject. He'd heard someplace that even Casanova-supposedly the world's greatest lover-was a sort of weird and sick man, so he'd better not be too sure about anything.
Humbly, Roger now began preparing Lori for fucking. He kissed her mouth affectionately, stroked her hips and thighs and rubbed her back. He told himself he loved her deeply and imagined that thinking thoughts of adoration could somehow be transferred to her, that his emotions could somehow be detected by her as his intense feelings flowed through the fingertips of his hands to her delicious body.
She responded by running her hands through his hair and crushing him hard to her bosom. Could feelings-even manufactured ones-really increase the response of a girl? Roger wondered. He did not know. He only knew that his prick stood straight and stiff once again and that Lori had begun breathing hard in a way that told him she was, indeed, ready for another orgasm. Her body began to twitch.
Now Lori placed her leg over his, her knee resting on his hip, and their mouths drank hungrily from each other. Roger began sucking on her tits once again and ran his hand very slowly up her leg to her cunt. Her fresh supply of lubricant, combined with her leftover juices and his saliva, made a veritable river there. He toyed daintily with her vaginal lips, her waking clitoris, and let his middle finger run slowly back and forth along the beauty and slipperiness of her hot crack.
Would he ever tire of touching a girl this way? he wondered. He suspected not. He guessed that a man could touch the most wonderful of all places-a girl's pussy-for the rest of his life and never cease to marvel at the fact that, after all, this was the place he could slip his prick into and experience the ultimate pleasure. It was truly a miracle, a cunt was. Here was warmth and waiting ecstasy.
Even if you tried, you could not help but get a hard on when you touched a cunt because it cried out to be pierced. It caused feelings in a man that could not be put into words. It was not a crack or a hole or a slit or any of those ordinary words people used. It was much more than any of these things ... maybe he would never know ... maybe it was just as well that he never would. It was enough to know that it was there and waiting and received pleasure as it gave pleasure.
Yes, that was one of the real mysteries and beauty of the entire thing. The cunt felt good at the same time the prick felt good. A very, very important point. Pussy ... pussy, he thought. Maybe pussy was the best word.
Why don't you stop being analytical, like that boring and dreary history teacher, Harrington, who took all the life and interest out of fascinating world events because he analyzed and talked too much about them until they were stone-cold dead? Roger asked himself now.
Consciously, Roger turned his head off-the thinking part of his brain-and just let himself do what came naturally. This was good, he realized, because then he was just feeling, feeling, and his prick was inside a lovely girl who breathed the air he breathed in great gasps and they were both just sharing something very important that didn't require and shouldn't require thinking ... anti-think fucking ... fucking ... anti-think ... no-think ... just feel-fucking:
A pelvis was a good thing. Lori's bent his cock a little on each of his upstrokes ... a pelvis a good, no-think thing. So was the very far back place that you could touch maybe sometimes and maybe sometimes not ... another very good, no-think thing. The top of legs, flaring into a wider, smooth something that was a buttocks-ass you held and pulled on was a good, no-think accessory to pussy-loving, too ... everything was very, very good no-think, just-fuck thing until it became so good it just finished, bam! and you certainly didn't care to think about how good that felt unless you were maybe a history teacher named Harrington who probably didn't fuck at all but just sat around analyzing it instead of just feeling....
Probably Mr. Harrington didn't even jack off!
"Ummmm," Lori said. She said other things, too.
Roger said a lot of things he wasn't aware of, too, as they both finished without thinking but feeling. Emotions. Not brains.
The grass was working.
It was getting late and Roger was expecting his mother to arrive home at any time. For more than an hour now everybody at the party had been dressed and sitting around looking respectable in case Roger's mother came home earlier than expected. None of them knew that Richard Gorshin had dropped Norma Dunham off outside more than an hour previously and that she had been watching, fascinated, at these teenagers making love ever since. She was getting tired standing on her feet and peering through the living room window. Still, she could not just burst in on them and ruin Roger's party, she had told herself. Thank God Roger had finally gotten everybody dressed and disposed of the wine bottles! It was really getting chilly and at last she could enter her own house.
Norma took a long time noisily opening the kitchen door so that everybody knew she was home. She passed through the kitchen and dining room and appeared for all to see.
"Hello, Mother," Roger called, his voice obviously indicating that he was pleased with the innocent appearance of the things.
"Hello, Mrs. Dunham," said the group.
Norma Dunham greeted everybody the way unsuspicious mothers are supposed to greet teenagers at such affairs and, finally, after many compliments and much small talk, the guests had all departed. Norma took her shoes off (her feet were killing her from standing so long outside) and collapsed on the couch.
"Well," she said, sighing, "so everyone had a good time. That's good. I'm glad your party was a success, Roger."
Roger flopped into the chair opposite her. "Yes, everybody had a great time. Thanks a lot, Mom for letting me invite everybody. The house is in good shape. No damage anywhere. We really had a good time."
Norma was tempted to say that she was indeed aware that everybody had enjoyed themselves. They had practically made a whorehouse of the Dunham household, and who couldn't enjoy themselves gulping down wine and screwing all over the place? She restrained herself, though, and said nothing, remembering that this party was significant in that it marked the end of her sexual affair with her son. Things would be different from this day on.
"How was the movie?" Roger asked, yawning.
"Fair," she said. "Just fair."
Roger's eyes lit up. "Did Gorshin try to get fresh with you or anything?"
"Roger, I don't really think that's the sort of question a son should ask of his mother." Norma suddenly realized that this might be the best time to make it absolutely clear that their relationship had returned to normal. "There are certain things which are rather personal. My affairs with adult men are strictly my own business, do you understand? I don't mean to be harsh, Roger. I just want you to realize that the old regime is in effect-in every way. All right?"
"Yes, Mother. I'm sorry I asked."
"You needn't sulk, son. I'm glad your party was a success and I don't want to be a killjoy. I merely want to emphasize the fact that you are fifteen and that I am your mother and that I intend to be treated with respect."
"Very well," Roger said coolly. "Well, I guess I'll hit the sack."
Norma watched her son rise and walk toward his room. Before he disappeared from sight, she said, "In future, Roger, try to keep your guests and yourself in check at parties, will you? You'll find your friends will respect you much more if you reserve intimate contacts for other places."
Roger studied her with narrowed eyes. "I-I guess you're right, Mother," he said. "Perhaps the party did get out of hand at one time." He came back and sat down on the arm of the chair beside his mother.
"I had some interesting thoughts tonight," he said, placing his arm about her neck. "I realized that everything that has happened between us has made me a better person. I know this may sound strange, but I'm really a better person in every way. I guess neither of us can ever talk about our being in love-in a strange and different kind of way-to anybody we'll ever meet, but I want you to know that I'll be a better man, husband, student, everything, because of things I learned from you." Roger kissed his mother affectionately. "I mean that, Mom. Honest," he ended on a sincere note.
Tears came from Norma Dunham's eyes. "Thank you, son. What you just said is very important to me. You don't know how important. It makes everything somehow all right again. I might have spent a lifetime worrying about letting my weakness ruin you." She dabbed at her cheeks with her handkerchief. "Now I-I guess all the guilt is gone. Oh, thank you, Roger. Yes, I know you'll grow up to be a fine man now."
Roger patted his mother's back consolingly. "I read a letter-not a letter but a note you put in the baby book you kept when I was little," he said. "You said the same thing then-that you knew I would grow up to be a fine man someday."
Norma smiled, remembering. "Yes," she said. "Yes, I did write something like that. It-it was a long time ago. I'd almost forgotten it."
"I'll never forget it," Roger said. "I promise I will grow up so that you'll be proud of me. I won't forget the words you wrote in that book as long as I live, Mother. They were beautiful, Mother."
He kissed his mother on the cheek again and this time walked across the room until he was out of sight.
My son, the cocksman, Norma thought, proud of his firm, young body and alert young mind. And now she had discovered a new quality in him. He was sensitive and he had character. The last vestige of guilt left her as, smiling, she began turning off the lights in the house one by one and prepared to go to her bedroom and sleep by herself.
