In several respects Aunt Maggie's Ministuds is a most unusual work of erotic fiction. Its subject matter alone-a brothel catering to elderly ladies and employing preteen boys as prostitutes-is destined to raise a few eyebrows if nothing else. Secondly, it is the author's first book in which she appears as herself, Gina Green, both as narrator and one of the participants in the action of the story. However, as Miss Green explains in her casually direct way, "this story's not about me, I just wanted to let you know how I happened to be in a position to know all this shit." But the most unusual aspect of this book is the manner in which the author has chosen to present her material.
Ordinarily, books about houses of prostitution emphasize either the squalor or the grandeur of the brothel. They either concentrate on the depravity of prostitution or attempt to glorify it. They dwell on the down-dragging guilt complexes of those who sell their bodies, or on their intense obsession with sin, or on the "white slavery" angle. In all these areas Aunt Maggie's Ministuds constitutes a radical departure.
Miss Green leaves the condemnation or defense of the world's oldest profession to others. Aunt Maggie's whorehouse is just a small hotel-somewhat old and rundown, one gathers-called the Sago, and she describes the activities that take place in it rather as another writer might describe a sack race or a log-rolling tournament at a county fair. Not that emotion or sexual excitement is missing: This must be the waterbed, she thought and, steadying herself, began a groping advance, slithering forward on her belly like a snake.
She hadn't groped far before her hand came in contact with a foot. A small foot. Ah-ha, she thought. Ankle, shin, knee, thigh. . . . Mmmmmmmmm!
Oh, this felt like a nice one! Solid, hairless little balls, drawn up tight between his smooth little legs. Firm asscheeks, tight crack, warm-Oh, he was ready, too! His buttocks clenched on her probing finger and his stiff little cock sprang into her other hand, twitching. Mm. Uncircumcised, like Jack's. She skinned it down and found the hard bullet-nosed head all slick and warm. Thin, hot, oily fluid welled up out of the little hole under her thumb and she slid her thumb off and tasted it with the tip of her tongue. Mmmmmm! Delicious! -And far more intense scenes than this can be found by merely flipping through these pages. We mean only that the author uses no more words on the morality or immorality of such things than one would use on something as wholesome as a county fair.
She makes no attempt to psychoanalyze her characters as she has done occasionally in the past. There is only one direct reference to guilt, a brief one at that: "I think Adeline's stiffness was a sort of unconscious self-punishment, the result of a long-standing guilt complex, but I don't know the psychology behind the root of this guilt-her sexual desire for little boys in general, Jack (her son) in particular." And, significantly, Miss Green adds: "Frankly, I don't much give shit about it, either. I've got more than enough to fill this book up without going into all that shrink stuff."
The feeling that this novel attempts to convey-and perhaps succeeds-namely that the sexplay which takes place at the homey little Sago Hotel, even though much of it is between mothers and their young sons, is just good clean fun-is heightened by its lack of reference to the fact that "crimes," in the legal sense, are being committed. True, Aunt Maggie's operations in New York, where she first engaged in the little boy trade, were broken up by the police; but this sort of thing has no more importance in the book than does the psychology of the characters. The insignificance of this law-breaking aspect is accented in the following scene.
A few minutes ago Aunt Maggie's sister Rose, Rose's son and her lover Oscar walked into the lobby of the Sago to find Oscar's son Teddy performing cunnilingus on Aunt Maggie at the reception desk. Earlier, a drunk named George Hellow had been pestering Maggie, trying to beg a free piece of "merchandise." Rose says: "Stevie's right, you know. . . . You shouldn't be doing that stuff in the lobby. What if a cop had come in?"
"Cops I can handle," Maggie said, stuffing her tit back into her dress and mopping her shaggy crotch with a wad of Kleenex. "But I wish that goddamned old wino would stop hangin' around here."
An "old wino," then, is more of an annoyance than the police.
By reducing the moral, psychological and legal difficulties to relative unimportance, the way is cleared for a tale of "pure" sexual entertainment, and, as you will see, Miss Green makes the most of it. And yet, it is this very thing-this "clearing of the way," this concern only with the fun of sex-which perhaps makes Aunt Maggie's Ministuds something more than a stimulating erotic comedy. It is possible-though not necessary-to see here a significant, if subtle, statement of social protest on the lines of Dr. Lars Ullerstam's The Erotic Minorities, a "sexual bill of rights."
Because the type of sex dealt with here is what is usually referred to as "perverted," and to treat it so causally and good humouredly, as though it were a perfectly legitimate and acceptable mode of behavior, is to transport the reader into a make-believe world of almost total social tolerance. It is as though Miss Green is saying, "This is the way it ought to be."
This interpretation is strengthened by the occasional references, widely spaced throughout the book, to the recent National Democratic Convention in Miami, during which the action of much of the story takes place. At first sight these references seem to be inserted merely for humorous purposes. But the last of them-which comes in the middle of a no-holds-barred, free-for-all orgy including all the major characters (Miss Green herself not excepted) is in the form of a quote from the aborted abortion plank of the Democratic Party's platform: "... and that a woman should have legal jurisdiction over the sexual and physical functions of her own body. ..."
We are suggesting, therefore, that hidden in the ribald, sometimes slapstick eroticism of Aunt Maggie's Ministuds may be a plea for tolerance similar to the less disguised one in Philosophy of the Bedroom by the Marquis de Sade, in which Dolmance tells Eugenie that in the field of sexual inclinations nothing is extraordinary. "All are a part of Nature," Dolmance says; "when she created men"-and women, Gina Green would add-"she was pleased to vary their tastes as she made different their countenances, and we ought no more be astonished at the diversity she has put in our features than at that she has placed in our affections."
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-THE PUBLISHERS
CHAPTER ONE
One night a couple of months ago, Mrs. Adeline Charles was standing outside the bathroom window behind her house, watching her young son Jack jacking off. Adeline is forty seven and Jack is twelve. It wasn't the first time big-dick Jack had jacked off but it was the first time Adeline had watched him do it. It gave her a start when he spit in his hand.
Splat!
She jerked her hand out of her crotch and almost ran away. That's how keyed up she was. Adeline Charles was not at all the sort of lady you would expect to find peeping into windows. If you had known her and had found out she was peeping into a window, you would have thought she was doing it to catch somebody at something in order to punish them for it. That was the sort of person Adeline was-the punishing sort.
In this respect she and young Jack made a good pair, because Jack was always doing something to get punished for.
He wasn't exactly what you would call a "hell-raiser," he was too quiet and sullen for that. He was more the "lone destroyer" type.
During the first week of school this year, for instance, after gaining his teacher's confidence with his good behavior and studious classroom manners, he had blown up her desk with a homemade bomb and gotten himself expelled from the sixth grade. So Adeline had to send him to a private school, where he made a remarkably good impression on the principal.
This same principal, a few weeks later, after issuing Jack's first report card on which he got an E in citizenship, made Adeline pay for a complete paint job on the inside of the girls' bathroom. It seemed that Jack had slipped in there after school with a spray can of Dayglo red and decorated the walls, floor and ceiling with gigantic erect pricks, huge wide-open cunts, and clever little epigrams like "Mrs. Harmond eats shit" and things like that.
These are only a few examples of the way young Jack Charles liked to spend his spare time. It might have been different if his father, who was and still is in Vietnam, had been home to help Adeline raise the little monster, but I doubt it. He would probably have grown up to be an assassin or an FBI man if it hadn't been for Aunt Maggie and Rose.
Aunt Maggie is not really my aunt, she's little Stevie's aunt, but that's what everybody calls her. Rose-Rose Sanders-is Stevie's mama, Aunt Maggie's sister. They're both in their early forties and Stevie is the same age as Jack. Well get to Aunt Maggie later, but as for Rose and Stevie, they had a lot to do with Adeline being back there at the bathroom window watching Jack fuck his fist.
They had a lot to do with Jack fucking his fist, too.
One of the things that got Jack horny was in his hand-not the hand he had his prick in-and the other thing was in his head. Both things related directly to Rose and Stevie's visit that afternoon.
The thing in his hand was a clipping from a dirty magazine which Stevie had slipped him on the sly while they were getting dressed after their swim. Adeline had had a pool installed in the back yard to keep Jack out of trouble. Jack had found a way to short out the motor that ran the filter pump but Adeline had bought a new one and had it enclosed in a steel box with a lock.
The steel box would have been a pushover for Jack, but he liked to strike in unexpected places. He was basically a guerrilla fighter and generally avoided a pitched battle.
Anyway, the clipping was a color photograph of a blonde lady with big tits and a very young boy sitting on her knee. Both of them were naked and the boy was sucking on one of the lady's nipples. She was holding his stiff little boy prick between her thumb and forefinger and he had his hand stuck halfway into her hairy cunt.
Standing on her tiptoes on the brick planter below the bathroom window, clutching the windowsill with one hand and her crotch with the other, Adeline could see this nasty picture pretty well, but she didn't know Jack had gotten it from Stevie. If she had, she might have put two and two together and realized that her horniness and Jack's might have arisen from the same source, namely Rose Sanders.
That was the other thing, the thing in Jack's head that was working in combination with the thing in his hand to make his little prick throb like an electric eel: Mrs. Sanders in general, her cunt in particular. Its dark hairiness under her skirt was like a big bad beautiful spider in his memory, luring him into the seductive silkiness of its web.
Adeline could see the picture in his hand, but of course she couldn't see the one in his head. She didn't know Rose had shown Jack her super hairy cunt because Rose had been very clever about it. Besides, even though Rose seemed to have changed somewhat, Adeline would never have suspected her of doing anything like that with a boy child.
Adeline and Rose had been friends for a long time. They used to keep each other company when their husbands went fishing together. Then, after Rose's husband died and Adeline's was transferred overseas, they belonged to the same bridge club. Since Rose had dropped out of the club last summer, because the meetings were interfering with her church work, they hadn't seen too much of each other, but they were still good friends.
What Adeline didn't know was that Rose had dropped out of church, too. The church work was interfering with her, um, other activities.
Anyway, it had been some time since the two ladies had gotten together for a chat, so when Rose called up that morning, Adeline hadn't hesitated to invite her and Stevie over for tea.
"We have a pool now," Adeline had said, "so the boys can swim while we talk."
It was while the boys were swimming and their mothers were talking that Rose showed little Jack her big hairy cunt. At first Jack hadn't paid any attention to her. As far as he was concerned, she was just another straight-laced old bitch like his mother and his teachers and every other grown-up female he knew. That was the way Rose used to be, before Aunt Maggie came down from up north, and of course Jack had no way of knowing she had changed.
He and Stevie had been grab-assing around near the edge of the pool when Stevie nudged him under the water and nodded slyly toward the patio where the ladies were sitting.
"Look," Stevie whispered. "You can see Mama's pussy."
Damned if you couldn't. Jack swallowed a mouthful of pool water and choked on it. Stevie slapped him on the back and Adeline said, "John, are you all right?" She always called him John because she was a very formal sort and didn't like nicknames.
Jack coughed, said, "Yes, Ma'am," because that was the way his mother insisted he address her, and the two boys went splashing around to the other side of the pool, giggling hysterically.
"Whatever is the matter with those children?" Adeline asked.
"Oh, they're just having fun," Rose said, crossing her legs and pulling her skirt a little higher up her thighs.
Adeline would have been shocked to see how much leg Rose was displaying, but she couldn't see it because the little patio table they were sitting at blocked her view. The only difference Adeline noticed in Rose from the last time she had seen her was that Rose's breasts looked larger than they used to. She was a slim woman and Adeline had always thought of her as flat-chested. That was because Rose used to always wear those steel-boned things that smash your tits down, but now she wore the boneless natural-look type bras.
She wished she could go without a bra altogether like her daughter Patty and me, but she thought she was a little too old for that.
Of course Adeline kept this observation of her friend's bosom to herself. Ladies didn't talk about things like that. It puzzled her, though, and made her feel slightly uneasy, too. Because Adeline had a pretty heavy set of jugs herself for a lady pushing fifty, and this had always given her a sort of unconscious feeling of superiority over Rose. Now this feeling was diminished by Rose's mysterious expansion.
And there was something else-something even more disturbing: it seemed to Adeline that every time she turned to watch the boys playing in the pool. . . well, it was absurd of course, but it seemed to her that Rose somehow knew what she was thinking.
If this were true it would have been simply awful! Because the things that went pulsing through Adeline's mind when she looked at those delicious little half naked boys were far more shameful in her opinion than any thoughts she may have had concerning Rose's tits. She tried to suppress this silly notion and cleared her throat.
"I tell you, Rose," she said, "I have to watch that boy every minute to keep him out of mischief."
Rose gave her an enigmatic smile and said, "Maybe he needs a hobby or something."
"Oh, he has a very good hobby already," Adeline said.
"Really? What is it?" Rose asked.
"Wrecking things," said Adeline, not smiling at all.
The boys had improvised a sort of "squirrel blind" from an inner tube and a rubber raft. By resting their chins on the raft and holding the inner tube on their heads, they could peek out between the tube and the raft and the women couldn't see what they were looking at. Kicking their feet, they propelled this ungainly craft over to the patio side of the pool and lay in wait for their prey, the Hairy Squirrel of Crotch Valley.
Jack couldn't have been more excited if he'd been stalking the Abominable Snowman.
They didn't have very long to wait.
No sooner had they brought the raft to rest and adjusted their observation slot than Stevie's mother uncrossed her legs and her big hairy cunt hove into view again.
"Wow!" Jack whispered. "She's not even wearin' any pants!"
"I know," Stevie said. "She hardly ever does."
"No shit?!"
"No shit."
It was as perfect a boreshot as any twelve-year-old boy could hope for. Rose's skirt was almost in her lap by now and the bright rays of the afternoon sun were shining straight into her hair-shrouded crotch so that the whole thing hung out, crack and all, without even a shadow to get in the way.
Then Rose opened her thighs wider and the darkly bearded lips parted a little, baring the bright pink inner flesh at the top of her slit and the spooky-looking hole at the bottom, just above where the crack of her ass started. It was the first real-life cunt Jack had ever seen and it really shook him up.
His big little prick felt like it was going to break out of his bathing suit and his nuts actually hurt.
Stevie nudged him and said, "How'd ya like to fuck that?"
Jack thought that was a funny thing to say about your own mother. He wasn't a boy that was easily embarrassed, but that embarrassed him. Besides that, it scared him. He had only a vague idea of what was meant by the word "fuck," and hearing it now, while staring into that hungry-looking gash, gave him a very weird feeling, like he was about to be eaten alive.
"Hey, stop rockin' the boat," Stevie said hastily.
Finally, in a whisper that trembled in spite of a brave effort to steady it, Jack said, "How come she's got all that hair around it?"
"All cunts have hair around 'em," Stevie told him. "Except for little girls."
That was news to Jack. He tried to bluff his way through it: "Yeah, but. . . not that much."
"Shit," Stevie said. "You think that's hairy, you oughta see the bush on my Aunt Maggie."
"You never seen it."
"I have, too. It's red all around her pussy hole." Red?! Now Jack knew Stevie was bullshitting him. "It is not," he said.
"It is, too," said Stevie. "She dyes it."
"She does not."
"She does, too. I think that's what makes it sorta stiff, like steel wool sorta, except not that scratchy. Mama's is a lot softer."
"Shit," Jack sneered. "You never felt of it."
Stevie looked at him as though he had said something incomprehensible. "Haven't you ever felt of your mother's bush?"
While Jack was trying to figure out what to say to that, a startling realization suddenly dawned on him: Jesus! Mrs. Sanders must KNOW we're lookin' at her pussy! She must be showin' it to us on purpose! He swallowed another mouthful of water and there was very little conviction in his voice when he finally said, "Ladies don't let little kids ... do stuff like that to 'em."
"Like hell they don't! They like it."
"They ... like it?"
"Sure. Listen, later on I'll show ya a picture of a lady fucking a little black-"
"What are you boys whispering about?" Adeline demanded, and that ended that part of their conversation.
"Nothin'," Jack said, and the raft capsized.
It also ended their squirrel shooting for the day. Figuring they'd bagged their limit, Rose crossed her legs and smoothed her skirt down. Now that that part of it was taken care of, she turned to Adeline and concentrated her attention on phase two.
"You know, Adeline, that boy of yours is certainly growing up into a tine-looking young man."
"Yes," Adeline said-and Rose didn't miss the slight blush that came to her cheeks-"but he's such a burden on me. You wouldn't believe some of the things he does."
"Well, boys will be boys, you know," Rose said with another of those mysterious, unnerving smiles. "And anyway, it could be a lot worse. Have you heard those stories that have been going around about the Sago Hotel?"
"The Sago Hotel?" Adeline said, tearing her gaze from those two lithe little suntanned bodies frolicking in the clear blue water. "No, what stories?"
"Well, you know what the Sago is, don't you?"
"I've, ah, heard rumors that it's a house of, ah-"
"Yes, well, the rumors are apparently true. But the hotel is under new management now and I understand they've added something." Rose leaned across the table toward Adeline and spoke behind her hand in a low voice: "I hear they have young boys now as well as girls."
"No!" Adeline said, putting her hand over her mouth.
Rose sat back in her chair and nodded, smiling with mischievous satisfaction at her friend's expression of shock. "Yes," she said.
"You mean . ..? Boys to go to bed with?"
"Young boys," Rose said. "Like between ten and twelve. You should be thankful your John isn't involved in anything like that."
"Why, I've never heard of anything so-! But . . . but what man would pay to . . .? I mean-"
"Oh, I imagine there are some men around who would go for that kind of thing, but according to the story-and I heard it from someone who should know-the boys are mostly in demand from women, usually ladies somewhat... well, past their prime,"-and with what seemed to Adeline an almost lewd down slanting glance at Adeline's body, Rose added:-"like us."
This time Adeline's blush was a deep apple-red. It felt like somebody had put a heating pad on her face. Why, Rose Sanders had never discussed such things with her before!
"Good heavens!" she said. "What sort of woman would stoop so low as to . . .as to .. . " She waited for Rose to help her out, but Rose didn't say anything, she just took a cigarette from her purse, lit it, took a deep drag which made her breasts swell disconcertingly inside the front of her dress as though to show Adeline they were real, blew a stream of smoke toward the boys in the pool, looked at Adeline and waited with cruel patience for her to finish her sentence. This was especially disturbing because Adeline knew for a fact that Rose didn't smoke-at least she didn't used to smoke. And then there were those breasts-she didn't used to have them, either.
With every passing moment it was becoming clearer and clearer to Adeline that this was definitely not the Rose Sanders she had known for so long. Whatever has come over her? Adeline thought. And why is she looking at me like that? She took a gulp of tea, wishing it were brandy, and tried to continue: "... as to actually ... go to a place like that and .. . and ..."
At last Rose took mercy on the poor woman. "I don't know," she said with a shrug. "But I understand they're not worried about finding customers. The new madam is supposed to have had an operation like this up north, and I understand it was quite lucrative, to say the least."
"Good heavens," Adeline said, stunned.
Then Rose said something that really freaked Adeline out. She said, "I wouldn't mind paying a little visit to the place myself."
"Rose!"
"I mean, just to see if it's really true."
"Oh . . .yes, of course, but... my goodness, you mean you'd actually walk in there and ask them if they ... ?" Again Rose just sat there waiting, forcing poor Adeline to finish her question. By now Adeline was sweating like a horse and, more to the point, the crotch of her panties was soaked with cunt juice. "... if they have any little boys?"
"Oh, no, you'd have to go as a customer, and show them some money or else you wouldn't find out anything. I'd kind of like to try it if I could afford it, but I imagine it would be pretty expensive." Rose took another drag on her cigarette and added, again with that sly grin, "Wouldn't you?"
"W-wouldn't I what?" Adeline asked in a shady voice.
"Like to try it," Rose said.
"Tr-?" Try what? is what Adeline started to say, but at this point her throat closed up on her and she could hardly breathe, let alone speak.
Rose mercifully pretended not to notice that her friend was coming apart at the seams and said that it was getting late, she and Stevie had better be getting home.
"This has really been fun, Adeline. We'll have to start seeing each other more often. Next time, you and John must come over to my place. Why, you haven't even met my sister Maggie yet, have you? Come on out now, Stevie! We have to go."
So that was what got Adeline hot enough to make her most ambitious attempt yet to get a look at little Jack jerking his always hard joint that evening. She just couldn't get the thought of that whorehouse with the little boys out of her head.
Rose's story had got her so fucked up she couldn't even eat her supper, and she blushed every time Jack said something. He didn't say much, though, because he was pretty rucked up, too. When he looked at his plate all he could see was Stevie's mother's cunt. And that dirty picture in his pocket was burning a hole in his leg. He could hardly wait to lock himself into the bathroom and examine it in detail, and Adeline could hardly wait to get outside the bathroom window and examine Jack's prick in detail. As we've seen, both of these things came to pass.
Adeline's previous peeping attempts were sporadic and timid, and therefore unproductive. She had tried opening the bathroom door while Jack was taking a shower, hoping to see something through the glass door of the shower stall, and she'd tried the keyhole bit a few times, but both of these methods failed. She had also tried the window peeking thing, but usually the glass jalousies were closed or slanted too much for her to see anything except the top of Jack's head as he sat on the pot, even when she worked up enough courage to step up onto the edge of the brick planter.
One time the jalousies had been open but Jack had just been sitting there on the toilet, reading the latest issue of Demolition Comics.
This time Adeline wasn't giving up so easy. She was prepared to stay at her post until something happened-at least until she got a good look at her little son's big erect cock-even if it took all night. It didn't, of course. Even finding the jalousies shut didn't sway Adeline from her purpose-and this was the boldest thing she'd ever done in her life. Gambling that Jack wouldn't be watching the window, she had wedged her fingers between two of the louvers and slowly, carefully, holding her breath, opened them all the way. What she saw was far better than anything she'd dared hope for!
By now the edge of one of the louvers had almost cut into her forehead, she was pressing so hard against it, getting as close as she possibly could to the stiff, throbbing, spit-slick object of her lust. She had her nightgown pulled up to her waist, holding it there with her left hand while she fingered herself with her right. The cunt syrup was literally pouring down her legs, and sometimes her strokes got so violent the jalousie her head was pressed against made a little clicking noise in its brackets.
Luckily, Jack thought it was just the wind. There wasn't any wind that night, but his little head was too full of other things to worry about shit like that.
The blunt little rubbed-raw head of his much-handled prick was like a flashing red light as his foreskin covered and uncovered it at Morse-code frequency.
It wasn't the picture itself that added so much to Adeline's excitement, it was the fact that her little boy was looking at it, at a dirty picture, the dirtiest picture Adeline had ever seen, staring at it with his mouth open and his eyelids trembling, jacking off and probably wishing he was the boy in the picture, and that she, his own mother, was watching him, jacking off right along with him, less than two yards away from him, allowing him to do it, longing to reach in and take that adorable little thing in her own hand, smear it with her fragrant cunt juice, rub the juice all around its smooth hairless root, to take those lovely little balls in her slimy palm and slip a finger into the crack of his ass, both of them sitting there together, naked, masturbating each other, looking at the dirty picture, panting together and-!
Oh! Squish! went Adeline's cunt as her orgasm ambushed her like a giant octopus. Her stomach knotted up, her knees shook violently and it's a wonder she didn't fall off the planter and break her ass. Squish! Squish! Squish! Oh!-oh!-oh!-And the jalousie went clickitty, clickitty, clack!
Luckily, Jack got off at about the same time or else he surely would have noticed the rattling at the window.
He jumped off the toilet, squatted over it, threw his head back, held the clipping up in front of his face and, with a tremendous spasm-jerk that started at his ass and whiplashed all the way up to his neck, shot his sticky boy cum load on the wall. Splat! went his young cum. Splat! Splat! Splat! "Uhg!" he grunted. "Uhg! Uhg! Uhh!" Squish! Squish! Squish! went his mother's cunt. Oh, Jack! Jack! Oh, my little darling! Oh! Oh-! Splat! Splat!
The cum ran down the wall in gooey streams with little yellowish globules in it and the hot cream gushed from Adeline's swollen cunt like boiling yogurt.
Gush!
Splat!
Sqh!
"Uhg!" Oh-!
That's all Adeline can remember of it, try as she might. I guess her mind sort of went numb on her after such a powerful orgasm. She doesn't know how she got back to her bedroom, but she got there somehow and spent the rest of the night dreaming about fucking Jack in a strange hotel with dirty pictures all over the walls and little boys with big hard peckers running naked through the halls.
CHAPTER TWO
What Rose didn't tell Adeline about the Sago Hotel is that the "new management" consisted of none other than her sister, Maggie McDonald. While Rose was fingering her dribbling snatch at the bathroom window, Aunt Maggie was sitting at her desk in the lobby of the hotel trying to get rid of a troublesome old wino by the name of George Hello w.
"I don't like to be pesterin' ya all the time, Mizz Martha," George was saying, "but y'see-"
"The name's Maggie," Aunt Maggie grunted.
"Huh? Ain't that what I said?"
Aunt Maggie's eyelids fluttered and her nostrils flared. Her plump hands were rigid and pressed flat to the top of the desk. Her huge powdered tits bulged up out of the superlow-cut neckline of her sparkly red dress, expanding at a sort of pulsating rhythm like a couple of beach balls being blown up with a hand pump. She appeared to be in some kind of a strain.
"Uh... You feelin' okay, Mizz Maggie?" George said, closing one bloodshot eye and turning his head to the side, peering at her from behind the bony bridge of his long, red, bulb-tipped nose.
Maggie made a little gasping noise in her throat, tried to compose herself, and said, "I'd feel a hell of a lot better if you'd get the fuck outta here, George."
"Uh, sure, sure, Mizz Maggie," said George, backing away from the desk a few steps and putting his battered old hat on his bald head. "I was just leavin'. But see, what I was gonna say, the lady used t' run this place, Mizz Sally, she used to, uh . . . Well, see, me and her was like that"-he crossed his knobby fingers and shook them for emphasis-"and she used to, uh, you know, give me credit whenever I was a little shy o' the fee, y' know. And I was just wonderin'-"
"I know," Maggie said with another grunt, and her boobs looked like they were about to come leaping right out the top of her dress. "You owe her three hundred and seventy-five dollars, except now you owe it to me, since I bought her out."
"Oh, I'll pay it, Mizz Maggie, I'll pay it for sure. Just as soon as I get m'self straightened out. I ain't a man to run out on a debt, no sir. I was just wonderin', uh, if you could just gimme about three minutes"-he winked, grinned and nodded toward the door behind the desk-"back there in yer office-"
"I'm busy, George. Please go away now," she said.
"Hen, heh, heh. That's where Mizz Sally used t' give it to me, back there on that sofa in the office. It don't take me long, Mizz Maggie, that ain't no shit. You just ask Mizz Sally. Just gimme two minutes. You can time me. If I ain't got my gun in two minutes, you can-"
"I said I'm busy, George," Maggie growled. (This was quite true, too, as you'll see in a minute.)
"Oh, sure, sure. But, uh, maybe if one o' the gals ain't tied up-"
"They are."
"I'm tellin' ya, Mizz Maggie, it ain't gonna take me long. I'm just about t' bust m' goddamn nuts just standin' here lookin' at them jugs o' yours. Say, how 'bout if I just kinda slip around behind ya there and, uh, you know, slip it in one time? Huh? You wouldn't hardly know-"
"Go away, George," Maggie said, closing her eyes and gripping the edge of the desk.
"Sure, sure, Mizz Maggie, but see, it's been so goddamn long since I got me a piece o' tail, I just can't hardly-"
"Are you gonna leave on your own two legs or would ya rather I'd have ya thrown out on your bony ass?"
"But, Mizz Maggie," George whined, unzipping the fly of his baggy trousers and starting to haul out his cock, "just take a look at this-"
"GET OUT!" Maggie roared, and finally George retreated, zipping up as he went.
"Jesus Christ," he muttered as he shuffled out the door. "Hell of a way t' treat a man tryin' t' get hisself straightened out. Shit, when Mizz Sally was here-whoops!" He almost ran into the lady who was coming up the front steps of the hotel with a little boy at her side. This was Rose and Stevie. Behind them came a tall gentleman carrying a tool box or something. That was Oscar Rollins, the man who lived with Rose.
George stepped aside, gave Rose the once-over, tipped his hat as she passed by him and said, "Evenin', ma'am." Rose ignored him and Oscar gave him a dirty look.
It is a cruel world.
Maggie's chin was bouncing on her chest now, her shag-cut red hair lashing her face, and she was clutching the edge of the desk with all her strength. The right side of her neckline had slipped off her shoulder and fallen down to her elbow, her right tit was hanging all the way out, plunging up and down like a balloon full of buttermilk, the big brown nipple swollen up as big as a plum, and she was drooling into her cleavage. This is the way Rose and the others found her when they entered the lobby.
"Hey, Aunt Maggie!" Stevie cried, running to the desk "Guess what Mama did today! She showed Jack Charles her hairy cunt and he . ..
Hey, what's the matter, Aunt Maggie?"
Maggie lifted her head and looked at them with glazed eyes. She went, "Ah (gasp)! Ah (gasp)! Ah (gasp)."
"What's with her?" Oscar said, setting down his tool chest and coming up behind Stevie.
Rose laughed and said, "I bet I know." She went around to the corner of the long desk and looked behind it. "That's what I thought."
"What's she got back there?" Oscar asked with a grin.
"Come and see for yourself," Rose said.
Oscar and Stevie went around there and saw a little naked boy on his knees under the desk.
Maggie just kept on grunting and gasping.
"Ah (gasp)! Ah (gasp)! Ah (gasp)!"
Her heavy, black-net-sheathed legs were spread as far as they would go and her skirt was bunched up around her waist. Her black bikini panties were on the floor and the little boy's head was nodding furiously between her thighs, the lower part of his face buried in the bright orange curls of her shaggy bush. He was holding the fat jaws of her stinky cunt open with his thumbs and going at it like a pig at the slop trough.
Slurp, slurp, slurp, slurp, slurp, slurp, slurp-!
It's no wonder Aunt Maggie had such a hard time talking to old George Hellow.
"Well, I'll be goddamned," Oscar chuckled, lifting Rose's skirt and slipping a big scaly finger into her fiery twat.
"Stop that, you dirty old man," Rose murmured, kissing him on the cheek and biting his ear.
"Hey, Teddy's not supposed to be eatin' Aunt Maggie right out here in the lobby," Stevie complained to his mother. "How come he gets to do that, Mama?"
Teddy is Oscar's youngest son. He's the same age as Stevie, twelve years old. He had come to the hotel with Maggie today to get acquainted with the other whores and help with the remodeling. Maggie had her own ideas about how a whorehouse should look and she was making what changes she could, but there wasn't enough money in the kitty yet to send for an interior decorating crew so she needed all the help she could get.
Grinning down at the boy over Rose's shoulder, Oscar said, "Hey, Big Ted! Whatcha doin' down there, boy?"
Teddy took one hand from Aunt Maggie's foaming cunt, waved to his father and continued his hungry lapping.
Oscar laughed proudly. "Look at him gettin' that stuff, willya?"
"Mm-hm," Rose said with a smile. "He knows how to use his tongue, all right. There's only one thing wrong with-Eek! Hey, one at a time, boys."
Oscar had tried to stick his finger in Rose's asshole, but Stevie's finger was already in there.
Oscar grinned at Stevie and said, "If she had a few more holes in her, we wouldn't be gettin' in each other's way all the time, would we, kid? Stevie giggled.
"I say, there's only one trouble with him," Rose said.
"With who?" said Oscar. "Your son."
"Teddy? What's wrong with him?"
"If you guys'll get your hands out of my crotch, I'll show you," Rose said.
Stevie pulled his finger out of his mama's squishy asshole and Oscar took his hand out of her smelly cunt and, getting down on her hands and knees, she started sucking Teddy's little prick, which was sticking out like a spike. Oscar and Stevie went around to the other side of the chair where they could get a better view.
That's when Maggie started to get her goodies.
"Ah-! Ah-! I-! I'm gonna-! I'm gonna c-c-c-cum!" she gasped, jerking Rose's skirt up to her hips and clutching a cheek of her bare ass. With her other arm, Maggie reached out and grabbed Stevie, hugging his head to her naked tit.
It took less than a dozen sucks to bring Teddy off. Maggie's cunt had just started to squish and sputter in his mouth when Rose drew her lips off his prick, opened her mouth, and finished him off with two quick strokes of her thumb and forefinger.
Squirt! Squirt! went his sweet young cum, straight into her mouth. Squirt! Squirt! Squirt!
"Uhn!" Maggie grunted, digging her fingers into her sister's butt and pressing Stevie's face into the soft hot flesh of her huge heaving tit. "Uhn uhn uhn!"
And Maggie was still cumming after Teddy had finished. Rose pulled her mouth away like that so Oscar could see how quick he got off. Finally, with a sigh of satisfied exhaustion-"Aaaahhhh!"-Aunt Maggie went limp and let go of Rose's ass.
Teddy slumped back under the desk to catch his breath and Rose got up, wiping her mouth on Maggie's panties. Then she grinned at Oscar and said, "See what I mean?"
"What?" Oscar said.
Stevie pushed Maggie's tit away from his face and said," She means Teddy's got a hair trigger."
"Fuck you," Teddy panted from under the desk.
"You tell 'em, kid," Oscar said, and then he got his tool box and went upstairs. He worked for a trucking company but his hobby was electronics, and when Maggie had asked him if he could install a TV intercom system in the hotel with hidden cameras in the walls and ceilings like she had in her other whorehouse up north, he had replied by asking Maggie if a bear could shit in the woods.
The difference, however, between a bear and Oscar Rollins, was that while the bear had been shitting in the woods all its life, Oscar had only read a few magazine articles about installing closed-circuit TV systems. He had always wanted to try it, though, and since Rose and Maggie had rescued him from the Baptist church, he had become a very confident man. If he set his mind to it, he thought, he could do anything anybody else could do. So he had started buying and stealing parts and, armed with a ragged copy of Popular Electronics, plunged right in. By now he had installed most of the monitors and hidden cameras and was ready to hook up the system for a test run.
Teddy crawled out from under the desk and staggered off to wash the drying cunt cream off his face.
Rose sat on the desk and lit a cigarette. She said, "Stevie, you run along now and help Oscar."
"Okay," Stevie said, unzipping his fly and pulling his dick out. "But can I fuck ya first?"
"Not now," Rose said. "Aunt Maggie and I have to talk for a while."
"Yeah, but-"
"Stevie, put your little prick back in your pants and run along now."
"Can we do it down here in the lobby later on?"
"No."
"Aw, shit, Mama! How come Teddy gets to-?"
"Stevie," Rose threatened.
"Okay then," he said, skipping across the lobby to the stairs, "I'll get some offa Goldie."
"Goldie's busy," Maggie called to him. "You stay away from those girls while they're workin', Stevie."
"Okay," Stevie called back from the top of the stairs, and then he headed for Goldie's room.
* * *
Goldie's one of the three younger whores who had stayed on when Sally sold out. She's twenty-six. The other two are Mary and Beverly, nineteen and twenty-five. There's another one, a big-titted old gal named Betsy Jones, who's closer to Rose and Maggie's age-says she's thirty-nine but nobody believes it. She has a thirteen-year-old son, Stanley, and was the only one to get involved in the new "department" Aunt Maggie was trying to set up; the other girls sort of resented all this little boy crap.
I may as well tell you now that I got involved in it myself. I'm thirty-five, the youngest of all the women who eventually got into 'this, and I have two kids, Rick and Mick, by two different guys. Rich is eleven and Mick is twelve and they were all for this ministud business right from the start. Even before we moved into Rose's house last summer, balling was their favorite sport. (Like mother, like son, I guess.)
I didn't mind them working for Aunt Maggie, but I wanted to be around where I could sort of keep an eye on them, so I decided to do a little work at the Sago on my own-on my back, that is. I didn't do it for the money-in fact, I donated every penny I made to the kitty. I figured it was the least I could do to pay Rose and Aunt Maggie back for all the material they were giving me. This is the second book I've written about them and I could probably write a dozen more if I wanted to. But this story's not about me, I just wanted to let you know how I happened to be in a position to know all this shit.
"Stevie's right, you know," Rose said. "You shouldn't be doing that stuff in the lobby. What if a cop had come in?"
"Cops I can handle," Maggie said, stuffing her tit back into her dress and mopping her shaggy crotch with a wad of Kleenex. "But I wish that goddamned old wino would stop hangin' around here."
"Who is that, anyway?" Rose asked. "I saw him outside."
"Hellow," Maggie said.
"Hello, yourself," said Rose.
"Hello, yourself," said Rose.
"No, dummy, that's his name-George Hellow. Sally used to give him free cunt for some reason, and he expects me to carry on the tradition. Gimme a cigarette, willya, Sis?"
Rose lit her a cigarette and Maggie said, "And anyway, it wasn't my idea, I was just sittin' here mindin' my own business. Shit, I can't keep that kid outta my crotch."
"As if you've tried," Rose snickered.
Maggie laughed. "So how'd ya make out with your friend-^what's her name?"
"Adeline," Rose said. "I'm sure I've got her hooked. It's only a matter of time."
"Not too much time, I hope. We need about three more kids to get this thing rolling. What makes ya think she's hooked?"
"Well, I told you I had a hunch she was the type, and when I saw the way she watched those boys in the pool, I knew I was right. You should have seen the look on her face when I told her about this place. And then when I told her I'd like to come here sometime myself, I swear to God I thought she was going to have a nervous breakdown or something. She was so goddamned hot, Maggie, I could actually smell her cunt, and that's no shit."
They laughed about that and then Rose added, "But we'd better not rush her. She's like I was before you straightened me out, or worse, and I'm afraid she's going to need a lot of softening up. But what's the hurry, anyway? Shit, we've both been spreading the word around for two weeks now, and you still haven't had a single customer."
"That takes time, too," Maggie said. "But once it starts, it can come down on you all in a rush and if you don't have enough cock meat to supply the demand, you're fucked. Once you have to turn a lady away, you might as well write her off for good. And you don't just lose her, you lose all the other business she might bring in. You know how I landed my best customer? Her maid told her about us. The maid couldn't hardly scrape up the price and you wouldn't have thought you'd be losing anything if you told her to fuck herself, but if we had we'd never have made the connection with her boss lady. Oh, Sis, was that bitch loaded! I mean, rolling in it. It was thanks to her I was able to move into the big place in Manhattan. That was Senator S-'s wife, you saw her in that movie I made."
"Yeah, I remember," Rose said. (I don't like to protect these big shot assholes like that, but if I told you that senator's name, my publisher and I would get our butts sued off and we've both had enough of that kind of shit already.)
"So you have to be careful about turning people away," Maggie went on, "and your only insurance against that is boys. Lots of 'em. For a community this size, I figure we need at least a dozen, but half o' that oughta get us started."
"Well, we've got four already," Rose said.
"Three and a half, more likely," said Maggie. "I'm still not sure of Gina's younger kid."
I was listening to this from my room at the top of the stairs and that sort of pissed me off. True, being only eleven, Rickie doesn't have much staying power, but then neither does Teddy.
Besides, I didn't notice them refusing to admit him to the stable. I didn't say anything, though. I figure you have to let kids prove themselves, their mothers can't do it for them. Anyway, the line-up so far was as follows: Stevie, Teddy, Mick and Rick, all of them in the "family."
"So we need your friend's kid," Maggie added. "What d'ya think of him?"
Rose answered by rolling her eyes and licking her lips.
Maggie grinned. "Nice, huh?"
"Adorable," Rose said. "I showed him my big hairy cunt."
"Yeah? How'd he take it?" she asked.
"Stevie says it really blew his mind. He says Jack didn't even know cunts had hair around them."
"Hot damn," Maggie said, rubbing her crotch with both hands. "A virgin, huh?"
"Uh huh, and Stevie thinks he's ripe, too. Apparently he was extremely interested when Stevie dropped a few hints that I was letting him fuck me. And then when he showed him a picture from one of those magazines you gave him-it was one of those mother and son things-Jack offered to buy it from him for a dollar. We could probably take him in right now if it weren't for Adeline."
"Well, it's both of 'em or neither of 'em," Maggie said. "That's my rule from now on."
The reason for this was that Maggie almost got herself in big trouble for using a boy without his mother's knowledge and consent. That's how Maggie happened to come to Florida in the first place. The mother found out what was going on and tipped off the heat. Maggie got word of it and split just hours before the bust.
Rose said, "Well, I'll be seeing Adeline again soon, and I'll try to-"
Just then Stevie came skipping down the stairs. He came up behind the desk where Rose was sitting, pulled her legs apart and stuck his hand in her cunt. "Can we ball now, Mama?"
"I thought you were going up there to cheat on me," Rose said, squeezing his hand with her cunt.
"Aw, they all had guys with 'em except for Mary and she wouldn't gimme none. She thinks she's hot shit, that Mary. You oughta fire her, Aunt Maggie."
"I oughta fire you, is what I oughta do," Maggie said. "I told ya not to fuck with those girls, didn't I?"
Stevie stuck his tongue out at her.
Rose laughed and said, "Did you try Gina? She's here tonight, you know."
"Gina's here?!" Stevie said, his cherubic little face lighting up. He yanked his hand out of his mother's snatch and started to run back up the stairs to my room, but Rose grabbed him (damn her).
"Come back here, you little two-timer," she laughed, getting down off the desk and dragging the boy into the office.
There was a big soft couch in there and in a few minutes Rose and Stevie were putting it to good use. Maggie was at the desk greeting a customer-an elderly businessman type who wanted an hour with Mary-when suddenly there was a deafening explosion behind her- BOOM!!!!! -the office door flew open- Ba-LAM!! -and a cloud of blue smoke came pouring out, and from somewhere upstairs, Oscar yelled: "SHIT!"
Up on the landing Mary's door sprang open and a naked man with a dripping cock came hopping out on one foot, trying to get into his trousers, but his feet got tangled up and with a desperate cry- "A-a-a-a-a-h-h-h-h-h!!!!!" -came tumbling down the stairs, head over heels: Thunkitty, thunkitty, thunkitty, thunkitty, THUD!
At first Maggie thought these Florida cops must be something else, bombing her like that, and she was down on her hands and knees under the desk like you're supposed to do in an air raid, but then the smoke cleared a little and, peering into the hazy interior of the office, she saw the remains of the TV monitor screen that Oscar had installed in there and realized what had happened.
It was just a ragged hole in the console with smoke drifting out the top and burnt wires hanging out the bottom. It looked like an empty eye socket.
On the sofa, almost directly in front of the blown-out monitor, Stevie was lying between his mother's legs, his little bare butt still twitching spasmodically. The blast must have just missed them.
"Did you cum?" Stevie panted.
"Didn't you hear it?!" Rose gasped.
"Comedians," Maggie muttered, glancing at the unconscious man lying in a heap at the foot of the stairs and thinking, Well, at least Mary's free now. But when she had struggled to her feet she saw that the man who had wanted Mary was long gone.
Then Oscar appeared on the landing above the lobby. The right sleeve of his shirt was burnt and the right side of his face was black. He had a screwdriver in his hand. He said, "Something must have shorted out."
"I think I need a drink," Maggie said, and she went staggering off into the smoke.
CHAPTER THREE
But if Oscar's technical skills in the field of electronics left something to be desired, it turned out that his mistress's procuring talents surpassed everybody's expectations, especially her own. It was only two days later, about nine o'clock in the evening, that Rose got an obviously desperate phone call from Adeline Charles.
"Why, hello, Adeline!" Rose said. "How are you?"
"Oh, I-I'm fine," Adeline said in a shaky voice. She sounded short of breath, like she'd just run around the block or something. "I was just wondering ..."
Rose peered into the receiver. Then she put it back to her ear and said, "Adeline? Are you still there?"
"Yes, I ... I'm still here. I was just wondering if you . . . Well, I suppose you're, ah, busy tonight, aren't you?"
"No, I'm not busy. Why?"
"Well, I thought perhaps . . . But it's too late, I suppose."
"Too late for what?" No answer.
"It's only nine," Rose added. "What did you have in mind?"
"Oh . . . nothing," Adeline panted.
"Adeline, are you sure you're all right? You don't sound well."
"I'm fine, I tell you!" she snapped. There was another pause and then she said, in a milder but still tense voice, "I don't know, I just thought perhaps if you weren't doing anything tonight we could ... I mean . . . Well, you see, Rose, John was recently promoted to warrant officer."
"In the Boy Scouts?" Rose asked.
"No, no!" Adeline snarled impatiently. "Not that John. I mean my husband, John Senior."
"Ah."
Adeline cleared her throat. "And so . . . well, I'm receiving more money now, you see. Now that he's a warrant officer, I mean. Actually, it's more than I need to make ends meet. ..."
"And?"
"Well, I thought perhaps . . . since I have this extra money, we might. . . ah . . ."
It might have gone on like that all night, with Adeline never quite building up enough courage to say it, if Rose hadn't suddenly realized what was happening.
Holy shit! she thought, and she said: "Adeline, do you want to go to the Sago Hotel? Is that what you're trying to say?"
"Rose! I don't want to go there, you said you wanted to. You said you couldn't afford it and I just thought since I have this extra money and . . . Well, I just don't think you should go to a place like-that alone, Rose. I mean, what if something should happen? I mean . . . Well, I've been giving it some thought and I agree with you that if they really have ... if it's really true, what you said, well, something should be . . . done about it."
Rose smiled. "I'll pick you up in half an hour," she said.
* * *
What brought Adeline around so soon? Two days of lust-crazed torment. Here's how it culminated.
All that day Adeline had been watching little Jack. She watched him and a friend out in the street playing demolition derby with a couple of tricycles he had "borrowed" from some younger kids down the block. She watched him throwing toads in the pool and she watched him pulling up the newly sprouted nasturtiums she had planted around the patio. She watched everything he did, running from window to window, half the time with her hand between her legs. When the crotch of her panties got soaked, she took them off, and when the sweat began to pour down her rather buxom hips-in spite of the air conditioning-she tucked her skirts up around her waist and ran around like that, half naked with the fragrant cunt juice streaming down her legs like hot lava.
Her inflamed imagination burned away Jack's jeans and she saw his cock, hard and stiff and shiny like it had been the other night when he was beating off, and she saw the cheeks of his cute little behind, bare and smooth, rising and falling when he walked, his hairless little balls jiggling underneath his prick, and she imagined that she was out there with him, running naked with him through the yard, rolling in the grass with him, buffeting his face with her tits, letting him suck them, and then lying still under a tree, examining his hard-on, skinning it down, licking the little red head, playing with his balls, wiggling her tongue into his asscrack while he stuck his hand into her cunt like that little boy in the picture, and then she would put her lips around his prick and suck it and-! It got so bad she could almost taste it.
Once, out in the back yard, Jack had glanced around to see if anybody was looking, then pulled his prick out and took a piss. That was almost more than Adeline could stand. Frantically, she grabbed the nearest object at hand-which happened to be a large wax banana-and fucked herself with it so furiously that her cunt felt raw inside when she finished.
But even that didn't calm her down. She almost went crazy every time Jack went out of the yard where' she couldn't see him. One time while she was bent over at the kitchen window, trying to see where he had gone, he had come running in the front door to get a drink of water and Adeline just barely got her skirts down before he burst into the kitchen. I wonder what would have happened if she hadn't heard him coming and he'd seen her bending over like that with her bare ass staring him in the face. Maybe she wouldn't have had to go to the Sago after all, who knows?
They ate their supper in stiff, silent formality as usual. Adeline longed to break through the barrier and say something . .. suggestive to her son. But she didn't even know how to be friendly with him, let alone intimate. Her habitual coldness was like a hard shell and she was trapped inside it. I think Adeline's stiffness was a sort of unconscious self-punishment, the result of a long-standing guilt complex, but I don't know the psychology behind the root of this guilt-her sexual desire for little boys in general, Jack in particular. Frankly, I don't much give a shit about it, either. I've got more than enough to fill this book up without going into all that shrink stuff.
While she was taking her bath that evening, Adeline did a bold but abortive thing. Lying there on her back in the tub, with her jugs floating in the water-she had a pretty good-sized pair, too, not very firm any more but not all that saggy, either-the brown nipples sticking up like periscopes and the curls of her light brown bush waving to and fro just under the surface, she called to Jack.
If Jack had come on into the bathroom it might have worked. Adeline was going to ask him if he'd wash her back for her. Then, if that part of it had gone okay, she was going to ask him if he'd like to take off his clothes and . . . get in with her. But Jack didn't come in, he just stood outside the door and said, "Yes, ma'am?" And Adeline lost her nerve. "N-never mind," she said. She couldn't even force herself to say, "Never mind, honey." Words like "honey" didn't come easy for Adeline.
After her bath she made one last desperate attempt to get something started. She put on her sheerest nightgown, a lacy off-the-shoulder thing, brushed her beauty-parlor-blonde hair, powdered her tits, touched up her nipples with just a dab of rouge, perfumed her cunt, checked herself out thoroughly in her full-length mirror, took a deep breath and headed for Jack's room.
She decided it was no good trying to be intimate right at first, even if she could make herself do it. I would make Jack too suspicious, put him on his guard. No, better to come on in her usual manner and then try to work into it gradually. Jack would be in bed but not asleep yet. She would go into his room and sit down on the bed beside him. She would act as though she were fully clothed and would pay no attention when he stared at her naked body through the lacy nightgown.
Young man, she would begin, do you think your father would be proud of you if he knew how bad you've been today? Jack would deny that he'd been bad and she would say, Now, don't try to deny it, Jack. Yes, she would call him Jack instead of John. That would be a good touch. First, you stole those two tricycles and wrecked them. Then you threw toads into the pool and then you pulled up my nasturtiums. Now-and this would be the hard part-take off your pajamas, I'm going to give you a spanking.
That was not one of Adeline's usual methods of punishment. Ordinarily she just made him stay in his room or wouldn't give him his allowance or something like that, things which didn't involve any actual physical contact. As a matter of fact, she had scarcely touched the boy since his infancy, even to do such innocent things as kiss him goodbye when he went off to school or pat him on the head when he was a good boy-which, admittedly, was seldom. So there was no telling how he would take it when she announced she was going to spank him, but Adeline was determined to go through with it.
Then would come the delicate part, when she had him bare-assed across her knee. She didn't want to hurt him but she'd have to spank hard enough to make him whimper a little and ... Thinking of this part of it made her knees tremble violently-the thought of actually touching that sweet naked ass, his little prick pressed against her leg, his balls visible maybe between his suntanned thighs. Maybe he would even have an erection!-from looking at her nudity. And while she was spanking him she'd let her nightgown slip further down her arm until . . . until it slipped below one of her nipples maybe, and-! And when he whimpered she'd say, Oh, honey, did I hurt you? I didn't want to punish you this way but-Did I really hurt you? Oh, you poor thing! Here, let Mother kiss it. Mmmm! . . .
Beyond that point, Adeline's imagination blanked out. The thought of actually touching her lips to her son's naked ass was almost more than she could stand. It seemed like a mile from her room to Jack's, and when she got there . .. she froze.
For five full minutes she stood there with her hand poised for a knock on the closed door. If she'd had a book in her other hand she'd have looked like the Statue of Liberty. Finally, she broke down and went running down the hallway like she was being chased by a demon-which she was, but she couldn't get away from it that way because the demon was inside her. She was wringing wet with sweat, the rouge was dripping from her nipples, her carefully brushed hair hung in strings and the perfume she'd put on was completely nullified by the miasmic vapors which rose from her superheated cunt and seemed to fill the whole house like a cloud of smoke from a slow-burning fish house.
She ran straight to the telephone, which is where this chapter began.
Being in a daze, it didn't even occur to Adeline that she couldn't just go running off like that without making arrangements with her babysitter, until Rose said she'd be there in half an hour.
"Oh! But-! Wait, Rose!" she said, almost gasping for breath. "I-I can't go!"
"Now, just calm down, honey," Rose said. "I'm your friend, don't forget that. And I understand."
"You-! You understand?"
"Yes, and you've got nothing to be ashamed of. Now, what do you mean, you can't go?"
"What? Oh! I can't go because I-I can't leave John here by himself."
"That's no problem," Rose said. "Patty's not doing anything tonight. I'll bring her over and she can stay there with him until we get back."
"Oh . .. Well ... all right."
"Everything's going to be fine now, Adeline. Just keep calm and leave it to me, okay?"
"Okay," Adeline said, and she added in a voice that Rose could hardly hear: "Thank you, Rose." That was the closest Adeline had ever come to admitting her "perversion" to anybody.
"You be ready in half an hour, now."
"Yes," Adeline said. "Half an hour. I'll be ready."
Rose hung up and went dashing into the darkened parlor where her daughter and Oscar's eighteen-year-old son Roy were lying naked on the floor watching TV. Roy was casually playing with Patty's ripe young tits and she was slow-stroking his erect cock which was standing straight up, casting a flickering shadow up along his flat belly and muscular chest. They were watching the Democratic convention in Miami.
Rose flipped on the light and said, "Get your clothes on, you two! We've got work to do!"
"Work?" Roy said, recoiling from the word.
"Come on, we have to go over to Adeline's house."
"Aw, shit, Mama," Patty protested. "We were just gettin' ready to ball."
"You can ball over there. Now let's . . ." Rose had a black low-cut dress with a skimpy little bra that pushed her tits up and together, and Patty was wearing tight jeans and a white T-shirt with, of course, no bra at all. Roy, eager to get on with it, wasn't wearing anything, but he had a pair of cut-offs slung over his shoulder. Rose made him put them on and hustled them out the door.
"You take your car, Roy," she said. "And remember-stay out of sight until Adeline and I are gone. Put on a good show for the kid, but don't drag it out too long. I should have his mama out of the way in less than an hour, but bring him in the back way just in case. Aunt Maggie knows we're coming so everything'll be set up when you get there. Okay, let's go!"
CHAPTER FOUR
Jack wondered what the hell was coming off. Adeline hoped she could slip off without waking him up so she wouldn't have to think up an explanation about where she was going. But Jack wasn't asleep and he heard Rose's car as she and Adeline drove away.
At this time the boy was sitting up in bed with the sheet draped over his head like a tent. He had his "mother-and-son" picture under there and he was just getting ready to jack off. He threw the sheet off and was about to get up to investigate when he saw a pair of tits in his doorway. They were inside a thin white T-shirt and the nipples were sticking out. He put the sheet over his head again.
The tits were still there, he could see them through the sheet. They laughed, jiggling up and down, and said, "Hey, whatcha doin' under there?"
Putting his underpants back on is what he was doing. He said, "Who're you?"
"I'm Patty," said the tits. "Stevie's sister. Don't you remember me?"
"What're you doin' here?"
"Stayin' with ya till your mama gets back. You look like a ghost under that sheet."
With his shorts on and the dirty picture tucked safely under his pillow, Jack emerged from under the sheet. "Where'd my mother go?" he asked suspiciously.
Patty shrugged and her tits bobbed again. "I don't know, I think they went to a movie or somethin'," she said. "Her and my mother."
Jack glanced up from the tits, briefly, just to make sure it was really Stevie's sister, and said, "Oh."
As soon as Adeline and Rose had driven away, Roy had pulled up in front of the house and gotten out, but Jack didn't hear any of that. He didn't know anybody else was in the house until, as he was sitting there staring at Patty's tits, the tits were suddenly covered by two hands and a pair of eyes appeared above Patty's head.
"Guess who," Roy said, giving the tits a little squeeze.
"Uh . . . Spiro Agnew?" Patty said.
"Wrong." He took the protruding nipples between his thumbs and forefingers and rolled them around.
"Uh . . . Thomas Eagleton?"
"No."
"I give up them."
She turned around and gave him a kiss and Jack saw him cup the cheeks of her ass in his hands the way he had cupped her tits. Her jeans were very tight. Jack's prick got very hard. Roy said, "You give up too easy."
Patty gave a soft, seductive laugh-"Hm, hm, hm"-rubbing her nose against Roy's and rolling her pussy against the front of his cut-offs.
"Who's he?" Jack asked. Something fishy was going on here.
"This is my boyfriend Roy," Patty said. "Roy, this is Jack."
"Hi, Jack," Roy said with a grin and a wink.
Jack didn't say anything.
Then Patty pulled her T-shirt out of the hipband of her jeans as though she were about to take it off and shoved Roy back out into the hallway. "Well, you go to sleep now, Jack," she said. "Well be out in the living room."
"So long, Jack," said Roy with another wink, slipping his hand into the seat of Patty's jeans as they walked away.
Before she left Adeline had briefed Patty on how to deal with her son: "Whatever you want him to do," she had said, "tell him to do the opposite."
Now Patty explained to Roy that that was why she had told the boy to go to sleep. "I get it," Roy said.
And it worked, too. No sooner had the young lovers entered the living room and turned the lights down low than little Jack came marching in with a defiant look on his face.
"I don't wanta go to sleep," he said. "Can I watch TV?"
"No," Patty said. "You can't watch TV."
Jack went over and turned on the TV. "It's my TV," he said. "And I'll watch it if I want to."
Patty shrugged. "Okay, but there's nothin' on but the Convention."
"I don't care," Jack said.
"Well, just make sure you watch the TV and not us," Patty warned.
Jack sat down in front of the TV and watched Patty and Roy.
To his surprise, they didn't say anything to him. They ignored him, acted like they'd forgotten he was there. Roy stepped out of his cut-offs and lay down on the floor with his hands folded behind his head and his big cock pointing straight up at the ceiling. It had black hair all around it.
Then Patty pulled her T-shirt off.
Holy cow! Jack thought.
Her plump round tits jiggled and bounced in the flickering light of the TV screen. She tossed her long blonde hair away from her shoulders, unzipped the front of her jeans and stepped out of them. She didn't have any panties on. She had fluffy blonde hair on her pussy.
Jack blinked his eyes and wondered if this was really happening. All of a sudden he was seeing all these pussies-first Mrs. Sanders' and now her daughter's. Maybe all that bullshit Stevie was trying to feed him . . . maybe it wasn't bullshit after all.
"Sit on that, baby," Roy said, holding his cock in his hand.
"Hm, hm, hm," Patty laughed. She stood over him with her legs spread, hands on her hips, his cock pointing straight up at her crotch, and gave her tits a little side-to-side shake.
Patty is really built for a sixteen-year-old. I'm no lez but I'll tell you something: sometimes when I ended up in bed with her and Roy-which happened occasionally while I was living there at Rose's house-I used to take her on before Roy, which is not my style ordinarily. The point is, if she could get me that hot, think of what she'd do to a homy little fist-fucker like Jack.
He swallowed and tried to make himself as small and inconspicuous as possible, puzzled but thankful that they were ignoring him. They're gonna fuck now! he thought excitedly. That's what they're gonna do! With me sittin' right here watchin' 'em!
And that's exactly what they did.
Patty squatted down over Roy's upright prick and then dropped to her knees. Roy was lying diagonally on the carpet with his head toward the TV so that Patty was facing Jack almost directly, and since this show was supposed to be for his benefit she leaned back and rolled her pelvis upwards so that the kid could watch Roy's cock as it went in.
She held it at the root with her thumb and two fingers and guided the slick, gleaming head into her already slippery hole. Roy reached up and grabbed her tits and she raised her arms high and let her head hang back. "Mmmmmmm!" she purred as her cunt slid down Roy's rod. Down, down went the plump, fuzzy lips until the blonde curls and the black ones were all mixed up together.
My gosh!! Jack thought.
"A-a-a-a-a-ah!" Roy sighed. Then he took his hands off Patty's tits, folded them behind his head again (his hands, not Patty's tits) and his ass started bouncing up and down.
With her arms up over her head like that, her hair whipping around her head and her naked boobs plunging up and down, she looked like a bronco rider sponsored by Women's Lib at a nude rodeo.
"Uhn, uhn, uhn, uhn, uhn!" Roy grunted. "Ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah!" grunted Patty. And little Jack grunted right along with them-"Uh, uh, uh, uh, uh, uh!"-without even knowing he was doing it.
Meanwhile, downtown at the Sago Hotel, my son Mick was about to do some grunting of his own.
"Oh, Rose!" Adeline whispered as they went up the stairs after a brief talk with Aunt Maggie in her office. "I'm so embarrassed! Why didn't you tell me your sister was the . . . the . . .?"
"The madam?" Rose said.
"Yes."
Rose laughed. "If I had, would you have come here tonight?"
"I certainly wouldn't have! And I shouldn't have, either. Oh, this is awful! I just can't imagine what got into me."
"Nothing got into you," Rose said. "That's the trouble."
"Rose, please!" Adeline hissed. "I'm embarrassed enough as it is."
"Oh, come off it, Adeline. What's to get embarrassed about? Women weren't made to live without sex, you know. It's this way, up at the end of the hall. Room 105."
As they approached the door Adeline panicked. She lashed out at her friend: "You tricked me into this, Rose. My God, what kind of woman are you?"
That pissed Rose off. She dropped her hand from Adeline's arm and came to a halt. They were about five paces from the door. "Apparently the same kind of woman you are," she said. "Look, why don't we call the whole thing off? I'll take you back home and nobody but Maggie and me will ever know you even considered coming here. Well, what do you say?"
This had the desired effect on poor Adeline. Now she didn't know what to do. She thought about going back to that house, being so close to Jack and not being able to . . . Trying to avoid the decision, she said, "Wh-why didn't your sister charge me anything?"
"Because you're my friend and she was trying to do you a favor."
"Oh. Well . . . that was nice of her."
"You haven't answered my question. Shall I take you home or not?"
Adeline looked back down the hall toward the stairs. Then she looked at the door of Room 105. Finally she took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and said, "No, I ... I don't want to go home."
Rose smiled. "That's what I thought. So let's don't have any more of that self-righteous shit, huh?"
Adeline looked at her and then lowered her eyes. "I'm sorry, Rose," she said in a very small voice. "I ... I really do . . . need this, and . . . and I want you to know that I appreciate what you and Maggie are-"
"Never mind that," Rose said, giving Adeline's hand a warm squeeze and leading her to the door.
"You might be in a position to return the favor someday." Someday soon, I hope, she thought. "And speaking of positions, I hear Mickie knows some good ones. Go on in there and have fun now.
I'll see you later."
She opened the door, shoved Adeline inside, shut it and went downstairs to the lobby. As she was about to go into the office Betsy came running down the stairs, her slim, almost birdlike legs flashing under her hoisted skirt and her massive bombshell boobs leaping up and down like a couple of oversized footballs in a paint shaker.
"Hey, Rose!" she whispered. "Was that his mama?"
Rose said, "Yeah. I sure wish Oscar had the TV hooked up. That's one show I'd really like to see!"
I'd have liked to see it, too, but I wasn't sure it was worth the risk of having the hotel burn down, which at the time is what I thought Oscar was going to do if he kept fucking around with that TV business. Anyway, I had to settle for Mick's account of it, and of course Adeline added to it later on after she and I had become friends.
At first she just stood there by the door, smiling nervously at the little boy in the bed, not knowing exactly how to begin.
"Hi," Mick said, giving her the once-over. Adeline had put on what she considered a sexy outfit: a yellow suit with a skirt shorter than she usually wore-three inches above the knee-and a bolero-type jacket, open in front to show her long-sleeved black lace blouse. It wasn't all that sexy, though, because she had a black bra and slip on under it, and when she saw Rose's low-cut dress, and then Maggie's-which seemed about to spill her boobs in her lap every time she took a breath-Adeline felt positively overdressed. But now, with my boy checking her out like that with his bold black eyes, she felt naked.
"Hi," she said, clearing her throat and glancing around the dimly lit room. "You must be Mickie."
"One point for you," Mick said. (He's sort of a wise-ass sometimes.)
Adeline shifted her feet again. The boy had a sheet pulled up to his hips, just below his bellybutton, but she could see the outline of his prick under the sheet. She tried not to look at it. Her throat felt dry. She said, "I beg your pardon?"
"Nothin'," Mick said. He saw how nervous she was and decided he'd better cool it. He knew we'd give him all kinds of hell if he spooked her. "And you must be . . . They told me your name but I forget."
"Oh-I'm Mrs. Char-uh-I mean, Adeline. You can, uh, call me Adeline."
Wow, Mick thought. He held out his hand and said, "Glad t' meetcha, Adeline."
Hesitantly, as awkward as a young girl who had just put on her first pair of high heels, Adeline approached the bed, reached out and took the boy's hand. "H-how do you do?" she stammered. "I-I have a, ah, little boy about your age."
"No shit?" Mick said, and without letting go of Adeline's hand he threw the sheet off and sat up on the edge of the bed, facing her. "You don't look that old."
Oh dear! Adeline thought. He's naked! His little prick was about half hard, its head lifted just slightly above his balls. Adeline swallowed hard and tried to smile. "You're sweet, but-"
"No, really," Mick said, pouring on the charm. He let go of her hand and spread the lapels of her yellow jacket from her bosom. "Nice set o' tits." Then he slipped his hands under the hem of her skirt, slid them up the backs of her nylon-sheathed thighs and felt the cheeks of her broad ass through the silk of her panties-a maneuver which caught Adeline off balance and caused her to stumble closer to the little boy to keep from falling. Now her knees were right up against the bed, between Mick's legs, just inches from his prick. "Nice ass, too. Yeah, you look like a fine piece o' tail to me, Adeline."
Adeline was sweating again. "Why,"-she blushed and giggled nervously-"why, th-thank you . . . Mickie. You're a . . ." Her eyes went down to his prick again. It was moving, lengthening, straightening out. The tip of its red head was showing at the mouth of his foreskin. "... You're a nice looking young man yourself."
He is, too. He's slim and has olive skin and jet-black hair and a sort of pointed prick like you see on those Greek vase paintings, except Mick's doesn't have any hair around it yet. His father was an Arab or something.
"You ready to get undressed?" he asked.
"Uh . . . Yes, I ... I guess so."
While Adeline awkwardly removed her jacket, Mick hooked his thumbs into the elastic waistband of her panties, drew them down to her knees and dropped them around her ankles. As she stepped out of them-almost losing her balance again-and started unbuttoning the front of her blouse with trembling fingers, Mick unzipped her skirt at the hip, undid the clasp and skinned it off her hips. Then he helped her finish unbuttoning the blouse and as she was taking it off he gathered up the skirt of her slip and wiggled it up over her bare ass and the heaving summits of her boobs. In the middle of pulling the slip off, the black silk covering her face, Adeline froze.
My God! she thought. It had just hit her that she had no pants on. He can see my-!
"Hey, you got a nice bush, too," Rick said.
And standing there with the slip over her head like an ostrich with its head buried in the sand, Adeline felt his little fingers rustling through her cunt-hair, combing the tangles out of it, fluffing it up, then moving down where it was wet with sweat and heat-juice, tickling the curls along the thick swollen lips, exploring all the way back to where the crack of her ass started- The release of pressure as the bra band let go, hanging limply from the shoulder straps, the sudden fall of her heavy breasts from the grip of her cups-gave Adeline a sharp, electric feeling all through her body, an indescribable sensation of the reality of what she was doing. She was committed now, this was it, there was no backing out. She felt dizzy and weak.
The little hands slid underneath the slack bra cups and up over the full roundness of her tits, the warm fingers kneading the soft flesh, pushing the bra up above her nipples, and then- OH, GOD! -she felt his hot, moist breath on her left breast, his tongue on the hard knob of the nipple, his lips, sucking . . . sucking . . . and something touched her knee . . . something hot and slick . . . the head of his prick ... it was hard . . . twitching . . .
Oh, Jack! Jack-!
If Mick hadn't suddenly shoved three fingers into Adeline's drooling cunt, making her gasp sharply, she probably would have fainted dead away from lack of air, because during the whole time she had that slip over her head she'd been holding her breath.
By now Patty had come twice and Roy had shot his wad. They lay there on the floor for a while, Patty still on top, panting and giggling and kissing, and then Patty looked up and gave little Jack a dreamy smile.
He was sitting there wide-eyed, open-mouthed, with one hand inside the front of his Jockey shorts.
"Hey, you weren't supposed to watch, you naughty little boy," Patty said.
"I can"-Jack jerked his hand out of his shorts-"I can watch if I want. If you don't let me watch, I'll tell my mother."
"So watch already," Patty said, rolling off Roy and sitting up with her legs spread. Her pussy was all gooey. "Run and get us some toilet paper from the bathroom, willya?"
"I don't have to," Jack said.
"Fuck ya then," said Patty. "I'll get it myself."
True to form, Jack jumped up and ran to get the toilet paper. As soon as he was out of the room Roy said, "Man, he's ready!"
"Yeah, but we gotta be cool," Patty said. "Here's the way we'll do it. . ."
When Jack came back with the paper Roy wiped his cock and Patty mopped her cunt. Jack watched intently. Then Roy grinned at Jack and said, "Hey, Patty, we oughta take him over to the Sago and get him bred. We could be back before his mama gets home."
"Shit," Patty said. "He's too little."
"I am not," Jack said. "What's the Sago?"
"How old are you?" Roy asked.
"Twelve. What's the-?"
"Yeah, I guess you're right, Patty. He's too young."
"I am not!"
"You are, too," Patty said.
"What's the Sago?"
"A whorehouse," Patty said.
"Oh," said Jack. "Well ... I'm not too young. I can do anything he can do."
"Oh, yeah?" Patty said, giving the boy a sexy look and glancing down at his crotch.
"Yeah," Jack said, swallowing.
Then Sally made a little farting noise with her lips. "Bullshit," she said. "I bet you never had a piece of ass in your life."
Roy laughed and that made Jack furious. "I have, too!" he said. "I want to go to that place."
"What place?"
"That whorehouse."
"Oh, sure!" Patty said. "You think I'm gonna take you to a whorehouse, you little shit?"
"If you don't take me, I'll tell my mother what you and him did."
"You wouldn't!" Patty said, pretending to be alarmed.
"I would, too," Jack said. "You just wait and see."
Roy nudged Patty with his elbow and said, "Looks like he's got us over the barrel, Patty."
"Listen, Jack," Patty said. "We'll take you some other time, okay?"
"No! I want to go now."
"Now?"
"Yes! Right now. Or else I'll tell my-"
"Oh, all right then," Patty said, reaching for her jeans. "Run along and get dressed, and make it quick."
For once Jack did as he was told. He'd never got dressed that quick in his life.
CHAPTER FIVE
Adeline lay stretched out on her back on the bed, naked except for her nylons and black garter belt. The thick sweetish smell of her cunt filled the room and her swollen tits rose and fell heavily. Directly above her face was Mick's stiff little prick, shimmering in the dim light, his balls dangling about two inches above her parted lips like ripe fruit.
He was on his knees, straddling her face, and she was caressing the cheeks of his firm little butt, brushing her fingers and mouth, leaving no part of it untouched, sucking her tongue and nibbling her nipples and licking her big clit and even tonguing her asshole, and Adeline's excitement had grown so intense that it had burned away all her former nervousness and embarrassment. It broke the dam of her lust, if you want to get poetic about it, flooding the valley of her need. (Pretty heavy, huh?)
Now she brought her hands around Mick's slim hips and took his dick between her fingers, slipping the foreskin back and rubbing the slick red head with her thumbs.
"O-o-o-o-o-h-h-h-h!" she sighed, her hot breath bathing his crotch.
Then she lifted her head a little and rolled his balls around with her tongue. Oh, they tasted so sweet! The next thing she knew, they were bumping along the bridge of her nose and she was licking the crack of his delicious little ass, probing into it, panting and gurgling, milking his prick with both hands, and then Mick reached back and spread his buttocks, rolling his pelvis forward so she could see the dark little dimple of his asshole.
Completely overcome, Adeline rammed her tongue straight into the hole.
"Yi!" Mick squealed happily. "I, yi, yiiiiii!"
"Ahgle-ahg!" Adeline gurgled, probing deeper with rapid (or rabid) in-and-out jabs that made the bed bounce so violently that Mick finally lost his balance and tumbled over on his back and before he could catch his breath Adeline had straddled him and stuffed a tit in his mouth.
It was about this time that Roy, Patty and Jack pulled into the alley behind the hotel. Maggie had chosen Betsy to take Jack's cherry and the two of them were waiting for him in Betsy's room, watching the alley from the window.
"Here they are," Maggie said. "I'll go and-"
"Hey, listen, Maggie," Betsy said, grabbing Maggie's arm. "I don't know about this. No shit, I don't like it. I mean, hell, he's just a-"
"He's got a prick, right?" Maggie said.
"Yeah, but-"
"And you're a whore, right?"
"Sure, but-"
"Then what the fuck are you bitchin' about? Just calm down and do your job, willya?"
"But Gina wanted to do it," Betsy protested. "How come you don't let her?" (That's what I wanted to know, but as it turned out Maggie had her reasons.)
"Because you're the gal for the job, that's why," Maggie said. "Let go o' me now, I gotta go meet 'em. And listen, Betsy,"-she grinned and thumped one of Betsy's gigantic tits with her fingernail-"don't knock it till you've tried it."
As soon as Maggie left, Betsy ran to her mirror to check herself out. In spite of her age, there were quite a few customers who would choose Betsy every time over the younger girls, because there's a lot of guys who dig that kind of figure. She was one of these tall, top-heavy broads-who, by the way, always seem to end up in whorehouses, topless bars or fuck movies-with slim arms, slim hips, slim legs and what looks like somebody else's tits. Whenever I see somebody like that I can't help but wonder if there's not some flat-chested fat chick walking around somewhere wondering whatever happened to her boobs.
Betsy was an extreme case. I'd say her measurements were something like 42"-25"-32", if you can dig that. Her tits weren't the watermelon type like Maggie's, they were the nose-cone type and looked like a couple of fat whitewashed missiles on the launch pad. Her areolas, tan at the edges and getting darker toward the centers, were a good three inches in diameter and the thick brown knobs stuck out about half an inch. They looked like pancakes with stubby little cigars sticking out of them.
With that figure, and her platinum-blonde hair curling about her shoulders in stiff ringlets, and her heavily made-up eyes and bright red lipstick that made her mouth look like a cunt, and her long dangly earrings, and her black half-cup bra that held her tits straight out like a shelf, and her bulging hump stuffed into the crotch pounch of her black see-through G-string panties with brown cunt hair sticking out all around the edges, and her narrow black elastic garter belt decorated with little red roses, and her black mesh stockings and high-heeled bedroom slippers, all veiled by her deep-plunging, long-sleeved, floor-length red lace dressing gown, she was the very picture of your classic whore, straight out of the Roaring Twenties.
Knock, knock. "Betsy?"
Betsy turned from the dresser, ran to her bed, sat down on it, crossed her legs, adjusted her gown, said a quick Hail Mary, took a deep breath, and sang, "Come innn."
Maggie opened the door and led little Jack into the room, which was lit by a single red-shaded lamp on the dresser.
Ho-o-o-o-oly cow! Jack thought when he saw those big bombshell tits looming up out of the gaping front of Betsy's gown. No wonder they didn't want me to get her! She must be the most expensive one they got!
Jack really went for big tits and he figured the prices must vary according to the size of the tits, like meat in the supermarket. When they came in from the alley the lady that owned the whorehouse and Patty had whispered to each other for a minute and they came back and said he could have any of the girls he wanted except for Betsy. Right away Jack smelled a rat. "Why can't I have Betsy?" he had demanded. Because he was too young, they said, and they tried to hustle him off to one of the second-rate whores probably, but Jack put his foot down. "I am not too young!" he had shouted and they got all excited and said, "Sh! Sh!"
"I want Betsy," Jack went on. "If you don't let me have Betsy I'm gonna tell my mother you kidnapped me and she'll call the police and you'll all go to jail." They said he wouldn't do that, and he said yes he would, too, and so finally they gave in. What else could they do?
"Betsy, this is Jack," Maggie said.
Betsy smiled and said, "Hi, Jack."
"Hi," Jack said.
"You be gentle with him now, Betsy," Maggie said. "He's sort of nervous about this and-"
"I am not!" Jack said, but his voice broke in the middle of it. The fact was he was nervous as hell but he wasn't about to admit it.
Betsy was nervous, too. Her own son Stanley was almost the same age as this boy and it just didn't seem right. Why, he even looked like Stanley! She didn't like it but, like Maggie said, a job's a job. She ran her hand up along Jack's arm, winked at him, and said, "I'm sure we'll get along just fine, Maggie."
"I'm sure," Maggie chuckled. She went out and took Patty and Roy to another room where they found Rose on her hands and knees on the bed. She was naked and Roy's little brother Teddy was on his knees behind her, fucking her in the ass.
"He's here, Mama!" Patty said, running up to the bed. "He's in there with Betsy right now."
"Shit!" Rose grunted. "I wish we-um-had that fucking-um-TV! Uhn!"
Maggie said, "You guys stay outta sight now till I give ya the word. I'm goin' to check on Adeline."
Maggie ran upstairs, tip-toed up to Room 105 and pressed her ear to the door . . .
"Oh, yes!" Adeline gasped. "Now! Fuck me now, Mickie! Stick it in my cunt! Hurry! Hurry!"
Maggie smiled and went back down the hall.
Yeah, Sis, she thought. I wish we had that fucking TV, too.
Adeline was sprawled out on her back, her heaving tits in her hands, her head thrashing back and forth as though she were in agony, drool and cunt cream running from the corners of her open mouth. (Mick had sucked her cunt and then kissed her, that's how she got cunt cream in her mouth.) Her ass was jacked up on a stack of pillows, her legs were spread wide-her garter belt gone now and her nylons torn to shreds, hanging around her calves and ankles-and her wet hairy hump stuck up in the air like a war torn hill in the middle of a battle zone.
Mick was on his knees between her thighs with his thumbs hooked into the upper corner of her gash, driving her crazy with a high-speed double-thumb massage of her erect clitoris. Now he slid his fingers down the insides of her flooded cunt lips, pulled them apart and rammed his prick into her fuckhole with a powerful jerk of his hips.
"A-a-a-a-a-h-h-h-h-h!!!" Adeline cried.
And with his fingers still inside her cunt, he started fucking her with lightning-fast saber saw strokes that drove her completely out of her mind.
You wouldn't believe how fast that kid can hump, no shit. One time he caught me when I was sort of dry and when we got through I actually had blisters on the inside of my cunt. Put me out of commission for a week. (Well, not quite out of commission, but I got tired of being called "The Asshole Queen of the South.")
Meanwhile, Jack and Betsy were getting on with it.
After Maggie left, Betsy had cleared her throat and said, "I was just about to go to bed. Would you like to come to bed with me, Jack?" Jack didn't like her baby-talking tone, so he said, "That's what this is all about, isn't it?" That made Betsy realize she was using the wrong approach, so she grinned and said, "Okay, so what're ya waitin' for, smartass? Take off your clothes and lemme see whatcha got." Staring at those huge tits for courage, Jack had started to undress, but when he got down to his Jockey shorts his bravado faltered a little. He'd never undressed in front of a woman before. Betsy had taken off her dressing gown, unhooked her garter belt and peeled off her stockings and was lying on the bed waiting for him. "Well?" she said. Jack swallowed and, in the most defiant voice he could manage, said, "Lemme see your cunt." Betsy's eyes had widened a little but that was all. She skinned her panties off, swung her legs around toward Jack and spread them. "There it is," she said. Apparently you couldn't shock a whore the way you could a school teacher.
But now they were in bed together and Jack's manner had changed from defiance to a sort of timid eagerness. It was like he was the boy in that dirty picture Stevie had given him and the picture had come to life. He was actually in bed with a lady and they were doing nasty things to each other. He could hardly believe it. He kept thinking, Wait'll I tell Stevie about this!
Betsy's attitude had changed, too, now that she had come into physical contact with this cute little virgin, kissed his soft young lips and felt the rigid eagerness of his prick against her leg. It was like something was coming to life inside her, something she hadn't known was there. When she leaned over Jack and unhooked her bra, spilling her tits in his face, she had the strange feeling that she had done it before, with some other little boy, maybe in a dream.
Jack just about freaked out over those tits. He put his little hands on them and pressed them against his cheeks, panting into the deep, warm, shadowy valley between them. She raised up a little and he took one of them in both hands and it seemed to swell up even bigger. Jesus, it was as big as his head! Bigger! "You . . . you sure got big tits," he said.
"You like big tits?" Betsy asked softly.
Jack nodded. "Uh-huh."
"Wanta suck it?"
Jack looked up at her face, then back at the big nipple. She lowered it to his mouth and he took the stiff rubbery knob between his lips. The sucking came naturally, like he'd been doing it all his life. It was so much fun that after a minute he grabbed the other one and sucked it, too.
Betsy was really getting into it now. She said, "Now I get to suck you."
Jack giggled. "I don't have any tits."
"Not your tits, silly."
She turned around on the bed and got up on her knees and elbows, taking Jack's rock-hard dick between her fingertips and gazing at it in the red glow. Jesus, it was . . . nice. She slipped one hand down between his legs and cupped his hard little balls in her palm, cradling them gently, massaging them, easing a finger into the crack of his ass- "He-e-e-e-e!" Jack giggled. "That tickles."
"Wanta tickle me, honey?" Betsy murmured, sliding his tight little foreskin up and down and touching the tip of his cockhead with her tongue.
Jack looked over at her naked ass looming up to his left and remembered how that boy had his hand in that lady's cunt in the picture. He wondered if that was what Betsy meant, and as he was wondering she lifted her left leg like a dog taking a piss and set her knee down near his right shoulder, straddling him, her heavy tits hanging down on his stomach, and he suddenly found himself face to face with her shaggy crotch.
It smelled funny. He reached up cautiously and took a tuft of hair between his thumb and forefinger, pulling it out straight and letting it go. He liked the way it bounced back. He started to do it again but this time he accidentally touched the raw meat inside her slit and several things happened so fast it seemed like they happened all at the same time.
First, the small firm cheeks of Betsy's almost masculine ass clenched spasmodically. Then she sucked Jack's prick all the way into her mouth and grabbed his hand. Then she started cramming the hand into her cunt.
Jack went stiff all over. He'd never felt anything like that in his life-those hot wet lips sliding up and down his prick, sucking, sucking, that tongue curling around it, hot slobber running down around his balls-and she was pulling his hand into the hairy hole and it was all full of hot gooey stuff and it was clutching at his hand like a clam or something and the juice was running down his wrist, dripping in his face, and her head was going up and down, up and down, and her big tits were pounding on his stomach and now his hand was all the way up her hole and she was going, "Mm! Mm! Mm!" and she was all wiggly inside and-!
SPURT! went his prick. SPURT! SPURT! SPURT!
"Mm! Mm! Mm!" Suck, suck, suck! Gulp, swallow, gurgle, gasp! SPURT! SPURT! -And it was over almost before Jack knew what was happening.
She fell over on her side and Jack's prick went limp.
As soon as he got his breath back he pulled his hand out of Betsy's cunt and said, "Hey, that's no fair."
"What's no fair? Didn't you like that?"
"Yeah, it was . . . nice, but it wasn't any piece of ass ... Was it?"
"No," Betsy laughed breathlessly. "It was a blowjob."
"That's what I thought," Jack said. "They told me I was gonna get a piece of ass."
"So I'll give ya a piece of ass."
Jack considered that for a minute. Then he said, "Yeah, but it's too late now."
"Why?"
" 'Cause I shot off already. I don't have a hard-on any more."
"I can get it hard again, I bet."
"I bet you can't."
"I bet I can."
"Let's see ya do it, then."
"Okay," Betsy said, taking one of her jugs in her hand and rubbing the big nipple against the tip of Jack's little pug nose. "Roll over on your back."
Suddenly, from upstairs, came a loud gutteral shriek: "EEEEEEE-GAH! GAH! GAH! GAH!"
That was Jack's mama getting her goodies. Man, was she embarrassed when we told" her how loud that was. You could hear it all through the hotel and probably out in the street, too.
SQUISH! went Adeline's cunt, and great gobs of boiling cream came gushing out around Mick's cock and balls. SQUISH! SQUISH! SQUISH!
Mick got his gun then, too, but his cum got lost in all that slop. Adeline told us later that she actually thought her cunt had exploded and blown itself inside-out. It was like the end of the world, she said.
Downstairs again: Betsy got on top of Jack like Patty had done with Roy earlier that evening and stuffed his limp little prick into her juicy cunt. Then she laced her fingers behind her head, arched her back, thrusting her great wobbly torpedoes out in front of her, smiled down at Jack, and went into a little dance, sort of.
It was a sort of sitting-down strip routine, except she'd already stripped of course. She started out by doing little bumps and grinds on Jack's belly, her coarse, gooey cunt curls scrubbing the smooth skin around the root of his prick, back and forth, from side to side, around and around, like an S.O.S. pad.
Indeed, there was a moment there when Jack did feel a little like signaling for help. Having his dick in a whore's mouth was one thing, but having it in her cunt was another, especially now that the edge had been taken off his horniness. He got that same feeling he had had when he was looking up Stevie's mother's skirt the other day, only it was much stronger now-the feeling that he was about to be eaten alive. He felt a little like one of those pearl divers in the South Sea Island movies who always get their feet caught in the shells of man-eating clams.
This feeling didn't last long, however. In fact, it disappeared as soon as Betsy started making her tits swing back and forth. She would swing both of them together for a minute so that they looked like a couple of huge bulging eyeballs surveying the landscape in a ninety-degree arc, and then with a little jerk of her shoulders she would break the rhythm in mid-swing so that they would come slamming together like railroad cars-thudditty-thud!-and the reverberations would make her big nipples jiggle like the strobe light in Patty's room. Then she would lean forward and shake them vigorously in Jack's face so that they swung and wobbled and jumped and jiggled in all directions at once. That alone would have eventually restored Jack's hard-on, but Betsy had an ace in the hole, so to speak.
She stopped the "dancing," straightened up and sat still on Jack's hips. Then she started to move but you couldn't see it.
"Hey, that-! G-gosh . . ."
You sure could feel it, though. She was massaging his soft prick with her cunt and it felt like a soft, gooey hand, squeezing and pulling. Betsy may be an old whore, but her cunt muscles are something else. One time-later on, after my kids had started fucking her-Rick told me that once he tried to pull his prick out of her when she didn't want him to and there wasn't a thing he could do. Clamped down on him like a vise, he said.
Anyway, to Jack's delight and amazement, it didn't take much of that to pump his cock up to full size again. "There," Betsy said in a hoarse, breathy voice-because she was really turned on, too. Her cunt was sudsing up something fierce. "Now let's fuck."
She thought she'd be doing most of the fucking, Jack being cherry and all, but she underestimated him. With a little grunt he grabbed her nipples-and Betsy's nipples alone are handfuls, especially in Jack's hands-grabbed them as though they were the handle grips of a motorcycle, revved her up and started bouncing his butt up and down like he'd seen Roy doing when he fucked Patty.
"Oh-god-damn!" Betsy gasped.
"Uh, uh, uh, uh, uh!" Jack grunted, digging his stubby little fingers into those huge tits, and the bed springs went squeak, squeak, squeak, squeak, squeak-�! ah-!" That red hot little prick jab-jab-jabbing into her like that was just too much. In less than a minute she felt herself starting to cum, and this was really weird for Betsy because it had been a long time since she'd got off on just plain fucking.
It didn't take Jack long, either. Betsy's cunt had just started to spasm when he screwed up his face, got a firm grip on her swollen nipples, and let her have it.
SQUIRT! SQUIRT! SQUIRT!
"Oh! Uhn! Ah!" Betsy's cunt felt like a fist, clenching, clutching, pumping, hot cum squirting into it, flooding it-! "Ah! Ah! Ah!-"
Later, after Patty and Roy had taken Jack home and Adeline and Rose had gone, Betsy went to Maggie and said, "You know, Maggie, I've been thinking about what you said about me moving into the hotel with Stanley. I mean, well, like you say, it is a problem what to do with him while I'm working, and maybe . . . maybe it's time he knew how I make my living anyway, and . . . Maggie, what the hell's that all about?"
"What's what all about?" Maggie said.
"That shit-eating grin on your face," said Betsy.
See, that's why Aunt Maggie insisted on having Betsy take Jack's cherry. She's a pretty shrewd old girl, that Maggie.
CHAPTER SIX
Almost every night during the following week Adeline and Jack went to the Sago to get laid, each ignorant of the other's presence of course. Adeline wondered why Maggie would never take any money from her. Each time she insisted on paying the regular price and Maggie always refused. Another thing that should have made Adeline suspicious is the fact that Patty never complained about babysitting with Jack. It was the first time in three years that Adeline had found anybody with enough guts to do it twice in a row, which is one reason she didn't used to go out very often. And yet Patty always said, "Trouble? No, he didn't give me any trouble. He's a little angel." It was weird, but still Adeline didn't catch on to what all this was leading up to.
Neither did Jack, even though he knew about the stud service now and that Stevie was one of the studs. He and Stevie even played threesies with Rose one night, but he would never have believed that his mother would get mixed up in anything like that, let alone that she was upstairs at that very moment sucking off Roy's little brother.
The night I was with Jack (finally, after Rose, Maggie and even Patty had had him) he said he wished he had a mother like Rose and me. I asked him why and he said, "So I could fuck ladies for money like Stevie and Mick and them." Later that night I asked Maggie why she was dragging it out so long. I told her I thought Jack and Adeline were about as ready as they were going to get. Maggie didn't agree. She said, "We gotta be real careful with Adeline. I'm still not sure how she's gonna take it. She still hasn't admitted-even to Rose-that she's got the hots for Jack, and there's still one hell of a thick wall between her and the boy. No, we better wait a while, Gina."
But that Friday Maggie wished she'd listened to me.
Just as she'd predicted, the business came in all in a rush. She'd had only one female customer so far-an elderly barfly type-and the girls' business had actually declined, because it seemed the local whorehoppers didn't go for all those little boys hanging around. However, the barfly must have felt she got her money's worth because she made reservations for another go at it Friday night-for her and a friend-and that was actually the beginning of the rush, as it turned out. That happened on Wednesday.
Then on Friday, early in the afternoon, in the form of a chic-looking businesslike young lady, came the first good-sized strike and Aunt Maggie eagerly set the hook. It seemed the young lady-who never smiled once the whole time-was the private secretary of some rich bitch in Palm Beach. Once in Maggie's office, the secretary laid it right on the table: "I understand you have young boys for sale," she said.
A cop wouldn't have come on like that so Maggie felt safe. "Not for sale," she said. "For rent."
The secretary sighed with disgust and impatience. "Please, Miss McDonald, I haven't much time," she said crisply, pulling a checkbook out of her briefcase. "My employer wishes me to make an appointment for her with two of your children this evening at-"
"Children?" Maggie protested.
"Miss McDonald," snapped the girl. "I assure you I haven't the slightest interest in the technical terminology of your profession. Call them what you like but my employer wishes to enlist the services of two of them this evening at nine o'clock sharp. Naturally, we expect this to be held in the strictest confidence."
"Naturally," Maggie said, eyeing the checkbook.
"Otherwise my employer would be forced to take, shall we say, unpleasant measures against your establishment. The fee, please."
Maggie tripled the regular price, the secretary wrote the check, said, "Good day," and stalked out like she had a corncob stuck up her ass.
"Two of 'em!" Maggie yelled and she went running through the hotel, waving the check over her head like a flag.
Everything would have been fine if it had stopped there, but it didn't. At about eight o'clock-while everybody was frantically getting the rooms ready for the guests and Oscar was rushing up and down the stairs like a headless chicken, getting ready for another test of the TV screen, with Maggie cursing at him in a steady stream, swearing that if he blew up her office again she was going to tie a wire around his balls and plug him in-the phone rang.
I tended the desk while Maggie went into the office to take the call and she was still in there when the barfly and her friend arrived. I took them up to their rooms and introduced them to the boys Maggie had assigned to them, Teddy and Rick. Originally Mick was supposed to take care of one of them, but after the Palm Beach broad's secretary had dropped in Maggie had pulled him off that job and put Rick on it instead. Because she wanted her best fuckers-Mick and Stevie-to take on the rich bitch.
When I got back to the lobby Maggie was leaning against the office door with her hand pressed between her tits and her mouth hanging open as if she were having chest pains or something.
I said, "Aunt Maggie, what's the matter?"
She looked at me with wide, glazed eyes and said, "Holy shit."
You'll see what this was all about in a few minutes, but meanwhile things were coming to a head at Adeline's house, too.
Adeline hadn't planned to go to the Sago tonight because she figured she'd been overdoing it a bit, imposing on Maggie's generosity like that. And ever since she'd informed Jack that she'd be staying home this evening the boy had been in a shitty mood, surly and withdrawn. Adeline didn't connect Jack's mood with her decision to stay home, but it did make her nervous because whenever Jack got like that it usually meant that trouble was on the way. And so it was.
This week of fucking had no doubt done both of them a lot of good. In fact, Adeline was noticeably easier to get along with-more relaxed and comfortable with people-and Jack hadn't brought home a single note from school all week. But when the two of them were together it was a different story. If anything, their relationship was more strained than before. No matter how much Adeline wanted to show some sign of affection or tenderness toward the boy, she just couldn't force herself to do it. And Jack had been acting colder than ever toward her lately, which didn't make it any easier.
The reason Jack had been acting like that was that he was getting madder and madder about not being able to join Aunt Maggie's stud farm. He imagined boys all over town happily fucking their mothers while he had to get stuck with this prudish old bitch who thought pricks weren't made for anything except to piss through. The only time he could get any pussy was when the old bag went to one of her stupid bridge parties. And then today, just as he was planning how he was going to fuck Rose in the ass in a few hours, here she comes to tell him she's staying home tonight. Oh, did that piss him off.
As it got dark that evening Adeline started getting horny and began to regret her decision. She went outside to see if she could get a look at Jack's prick through the window. But he wasn't in his bedroom and he wasn't in the bathroom. What was that boy up to now? This question was partially answered when she got back to the front door. It was a glass jalousie door and as soon as she started to open it, all the jalousies fell out on the concrete step with a tremendous crash and glass flew everywhere.
As soon as Adeline had recovered from the shock-luckily she only suffered a few scratches around the ankles-she saw that all the little metal clips that hold the jalousies in had been bent out straight so that the jalousies would fall out as soon as somebody touched the door. It didn't take a great deal of thought to figure out who might have done such a thing.
"John Howard Charles!" Adeline cried in a threatening voice as she stormed into the house. "Come out here this instant!"
Jack strode into the living room with just the hint of a shit-eating grin behind his look of puzzled innocence. "Did you call me, Mother?" he said.
"I certainly did," Adeline said. "You sit yourself down over there, young man. We're going to have a little talk."
These "little talks" were nothing new to Jack. This was when he got his allowance taken away from him or some shit like that. He always sat on a straight chair by the TV and his mother always sat in the big armchair with gold embroidery on it. This time Jack was prepared.
"Now," Adeline said sternly as she lowered herself stiffly into the chair, "would you mind explaining-AAAHU "
Her arms and legs flew straight up in the air, she folded in the middle like a jackknife and-THUD!-her ass hit the floor like a sack of potatoes. How could she have know that Jack had cleverly removed the springs from underneath the cushion, framework and all? Pitfalls were one of his specialties and he was particularly proud of this one.
Well, that was just too much for Adeline. Losing her cool altogether, she came flailing up out of that chair like an enraged orangutan, bore down on little Jack with clenched fists and would probably have clobbered him but he was prepared for that, too.
"Don't you dare touch me!" he warned, taking hold of a string that was hanging down from the ceiling beside his right shoulder. "Or else I'll pull this string."
"Wha-?!" Adeline stopped, trembling all over with rage, and looked at the string.
She followed it up the wall to where it passed through the hook of a swag lamp, then across the ceiling to the far wall where it was hooked over a small nail that had been driven into the cypress paneling. From the nail the string went down the wall and disappeared behind the large, ornately framed mirror that hung there. This mirror was six feet long and three feet wide, a beautiful thing, it was an heirloom that had been in the Charles family since the time of Henry V who, legend has it, brought it back from France as a battle spoil after the famous invasion of 1415. Adeline turned slowly and looked at Jack. Then she looked at the string. Then she looked at the mirror again, then back to Jack.
"John Charles," she said in a trembling whisper. "Don't you dare!"
"Don't I dare what?"
"Pull that string!"
Jack pulled that string. "JOHN-!"
The big heavy mirror slid smoothly from the wall, almost in slow motion it seemed, like the front edge of a glacier slipping into the sea, and with a brittle roar crumbled into a million tiny pieces. When the dust settled it looked like a huge sparkly jigsaw puzzle that somebody had dumped on the floor.
Jack was no fool, and since that was the last trick he'd had time to rig up, he judged quite correctly that the time had come to make a run for it.
But he underestimated the speed his mother was capable of.
"Why you little-!"
"Help!"
She nailed him with a flying tackle at the two-yard line-that is, right in front of the door to his bedroom, where he had hoped to hole up until things had cooled down a little.
The battle that followed must have been something to see. In less than a minute they had demolished a knick-knack stand (also an antique), scattering bits of broken china all over the hall, and their, clothes were in shreds. Adeline's skirt was ripped completely off, the front of her dress was torn from her left shoulder and her left bra strap was broken. Jack's shirt was split all the way up the back and his jeans and Jockey shorts were down around his crotch.
There were many times during the struggle that their hands and faces came into intimate if violent contact with each other's private parts. Once, when Jack rolled on top of Adeline, trying to hit her on the head with a leg of the knick-knack stand, his prick rubbed right over her cunt, with nothing between the two organs except the thin nylon crotch of the see-through bikini panties Adeline had taken to wearing lately.
Another time, while Adeline was trying to pin Jack down, her knees slipped out from under her and she fell on him, her left tit-the naked one-smashing into his face like a balloon full of hot milk and damn near smothering him before he managed to get her off him by kneeing her in the crotch.
But in the heat of the fight they hardly noticed these things. Jack was scared shitless and Adeline was completely off her gourd. Finally, she got him face-down on the carpet, straddled him, shoved his pants down to his knees and sat on his back, facing his wildly kicking feet.
"Now, you little devil!" she shrieked. "I'm gonna beat your butt till you can't-!"
All of a sudden, with her hand raised over her head, ready to give him the walloping of his life, Adeline came to her sense. It was like a flashbulb going off in her brain.
Oh my goodness!
There she was, her thinly clad ass resting on his bare back, her tit hanging out of her bra cup, face to face with her son's naked behind, the round little cheeks jerking and jumping as he kicked, and it came to her like an electric shock that this was exactly the situation she had wanted to set up that night she had watched Jack jerking off in the bathroom. She'd been unable to make herself do it then, but now . ..
The broken jalousies, the ruined chair, the shattered mirror-all that slipped through the fingers of Adeline's mind like a handful of water. This was it. As usual she began to sweat like a horse.
Lowering her poised hand, she leaned forward and gripped the backs of Jack's knees, subtly spreading his legs a little wider and pinning them to the floor. "Now, just s-stop that kicking, John," she said. Her voice was still trembling but not from anger any more.
Oh, God!. . .
This bending over maneuver brought her cunt against the boy's spine and he felt the hot stickiness of it. More importantly, it brought Adeline's face very close to his clenched ass. Her nose was practically in the crack, and he felt her hot breath on his lower cheeks and the backs of his balls.
What the hell? he wondered.
Adeline just sat there, bent over, motionless, hardly even breathing, sweat from her crotch and thighs running down Jack's sides, dripping onto his right hip from her naked nipple and into the crack of his ass from the tip of her nose. She looked like a statue of ice sitting inside a blast furnace.
Then she began sliding her wet palms up the backs of Jack's thighs, leaving them slick and shiny. He wasn't kicking any more, he was lying very still. He didn't guess the truth-even under these circumstances he never would have believed anything like that about his mother-but he was getting a hard-on just the same.
Adeline couldn't see that, though, because his prick was tucked up underneath his belly. If she had seen it things might have happened differently.
Now her hands were all the way up to where the cheeks of his ass started. There were his little balls, his adorable little nuts, just a quarter of an inch from her thumbs. They were like robins' eggs, so tiny and oval, right there in front of her eyes. And his little dick was under there. . . . She remembered how it had looked that night ... the slick red head ... the way his foreskin shuttled up and down over it . . . flash, flash, flash . . . like a signal. . . .
Then, slow as the hand of a clock, Adeline slid her trembling palms up over the round warm softness of those luscious little cheeks, gradually spreading them apart until. . .
Oh, Lord! . . . until she could see his asshole. Oh, that delicious-looking little dimple! So small and pink and tight and-!
Adeline's tongue swelled up like a cock. She was bent over so far now that her tits were flattened on Jack's lower back-and the nipple of the naked one was burning into his skin like a hot coal. Her lips were almost brushing the insides of his asscheeks and she wouldn't even have had to move her head to stick her tongue up his hole.
She might have done it, too, but Jack had been getting more and more nervous and now-with her holding his butt open like that-he began to wonder if maybe he hadn't pushed her a bit too far this time. Like, maybe she was going to do something horrible to him, ram something up his ass or something like that! (It was easier for Jack to believe his mother capable of torture than of sex.) He sort of panicked and tried to draw his buttocks together but he couldn't, she was holding them too tight.
"Hey, Mother," he said, "wh-what're you gonna do?"
That hit Adeline like a bucket of ice water, breaking the spell completely. With a gasp-"Oh!"-she jerked her hands from Jack's ass-which snapped shut like a rat trap-and sat bolt upright.
Had she taken leave of her sense? Was she mad? Good heavens! This innocent little boy! This child!
Her own child! He wasn't even aroused! He didn't even know-! And she had almost-! Another instant and she would have-! Oh, shame, shame!
With tears of anguish and self-loathing in her eyes, she jumped up and started kicking little Jack in the ribs.
"Hey-! Ouch, ouch, ouch-!"
"Get in your room, you bad boy!" Adeline sobbed angrily. "Get in there!" Kick, kick! "And don't come out!"
Jack scrambled into his room as fast as he could, losing his pants in the process, and taking one last wild look at his bare ass Adeline slammed the door so hard that the framed photograph of her husband at the end of the hall jumped off the wall and landed face-down on the floor among the fragments of the china tea set and the scattered shreds of clothing. After five years in Vietnam, Adeline's husband would probably have felt right at home in there.
Adeline staggered back from the door, tripped over Jack's Jockey shorts, picked herself up and broke into a lurching run for the telephone, ricocheting off the walls like a drunk or a billiard ball or something.
It was now about eight-thirty.
CHAPTER SEVEN
"Hello?"
"Rose! This is (gasp!) Adeline!"
"Hi, Adeline. This is Patty. Mama's not here."
"Oh . . . Uh, Patty, do you think you could, uh, stay with John tonight?"
"Tonight? Mama said you weren't going to the-I mean, that you were staying home tonight." (Patty wasn't supposed to know about the Sago.)
"Yes, that's-that's what I had planned," Adeline panted. "But, uh, something has come up. I-I've got to, uh, see somebody about something. It's, uh, urgent."
"Oh," Patty said. "Well, I guess-AH!"
"Patty! What's the matter?"
"Huh? Oh, nothing. I just, uh, stubbed my toe."
"Stubbed your toe," Roy snickered.
Patty slapped at him over her shoulder but missed. "Uh, yeah, Adeline, I guess I can make it. My boyfriend can drive me over."
"Oh, Patty, you're a dear! I-I'll pay you double!"
"Oh, far out."
"I, uh, I'm in a bit of a hurry to leave, Patty. Uh-"
"Okay, I'll be there in a few minutes."
"I really appreciate this, Patty. I-I-I-"
"Sure, sure. See ya later, Adeline." She hung up and said, "Roy, I wish you-mm!-wouldn't do that while I'm talking on the phone."
"I wish you wouldn't talk on the phone while I'm doing this," Roy said. "Do we have to go over there again tonight? I thought we were gonna stay home and . . . Who the hell are ya callin' up now?"
"Hello!" shouted a voice from the telephone. Patty made a face, peered into the receiver, then put it back to her ear. "I mean, er, Good evening, Sago Hotel, may I help you?"
"Who's this-Aunt Maggie?"
"Yeah-at least I think it is. Who's this?"
"Patty. What's the matter?"
"Oh, nothing," Maggie said. "I'm just going out of my fucking mind, that's all. What's up, kid?"
"Adeline just called," Patty said. "She's gonna be over there in a few minutes and I just thought I oughta let ya know."
"What?!"
Patty told her about her conversation with Adeline.
Maggie said, "Oh, that's just great. That's all I need. You call her back and tell her to forget it, y' hear?"
"But I already told her I'd do it, Aunt Maggie. I mean, she really sounded fucked up, y' know?"
"She sounded fucked up? Well, how do I sound, for Christ's sake? Look, I got a full house, Patty. Rick and Teddy are up there with two old girls right now and I'm holding Mickie and your brother for some rich broad from Palm Beach that's supposed to be here any minute now. That's it, see? Four stinking kids! That's all we got. Already I've had to turn away two jet-set types that dropped in a while ago and-"
"Jesus," Patty said. "Business is booming all of a sudden."
"Yeah, great, if I had the fucking kids, which I don't. But that's not the worst of it. A little while ago I got a long distance call from Miami. You're not gonna believe this but it was from Mrs. . . .!" (She gave the woman's name, the wife of a big land developer and insurance man, but I'm not about to. All I can tell you is that this guy is one of the ten richest men in the country, and he's not at the bottom of the list, either. We'll call this broad Mrs. M.-for "Moneybags.")
"Holy shit!" Patty said.
"That's what I said. I damn near pissed my pants. She talked for about fifteen minutes, very careful not to say anything specific, y' know? I didn't know what the hell to think at first. Asked a bunch of dumb questions about the hotel, as if it was the Waldorf Astoria or something instead of this crummy back-street dump, and I'm doin' my best to be cool, see? Said she was 'rather bored' with going everywhere in her old man's private jet and she was planning a drive to Boston in her limousine like everyday folks, and she was lining up some 'suitable hotels' along the way, didn't I see. 'Oh, yes, ma'am,' I said. 'Very sensible,' and shit like that. Maybe she was afraid the phone was bugged, I don't know. Finally she says, 'Oh, by the way, while I was in your city recently I was told by a friend that you operate a rather unusual child care service.'
"I thought, hot damn, here it comes! But what a way to put it, huh? I said, 'Child care service?' She said, yes, she understood we took care of children while their parents went out in the evenings and that it was sort of a guest-participation thing. I thought, wow. I said, 'Oh, yes, Mrs. M., we thought it was terrible the way so many children were being left home alone at night due to the shortage of babysitters in our community.' 'Very commendable,' she says, and I said, 'Many of the ladies among our guests really enjoy taking care of the little fellows, you know.' Oh, yes, she could certainly understand that, she said. As a matter of fact, that was why she 'broached the subject.' She said if a stop at the Sago happened to fall into her schedule she would be glad to volunteer to, ah, take care of one of the, ah, little fellows herself."
Patty cracked up and Roy said, "Ouch! Hey, cut it out! Ow, ow, ow!"
Patty controlled her laughter and said, "Sorry," over her shoulder.
"What's all that?" Maggie asked.
"Nothing," Patty chuckled. "So what happened then?"
"Well, she explained that all her kids were grown up and that she seldom saw her grandkids and that she really was quite good with children and loved to be around them and all kinds .of shit like that. I told her we'd be deeply honored to have her participate in our, ah, program and we'd be looking forward to her visit. I damn near collapsed when she finally hung up. I mean, this is great! That old gal could lay so much bread on us we could make this dump look like the Taj Mahal! Easy Street, baby! But what if she shows up on a night like this and I'm stuck without a kid for her? It'd be a fucking disaster!"
"Well, she's not comin' tonight, is she?"
"No, thank God. In a few days maybe, she said. We just gotta get more kids!"
"What about Betsy's kid? I thought she was gonna bring him in."
"Stanley? Yeah, she finally moved him in the other day but that's all she's done. She don't want anybody to ball him before she does and there ain't much I can do about that, except give her hell, all the time, which I've been doin'. Every fuckin' night she says, 'This time for sure, Maggie,' and every fuckin' morning she comes out with that chickenshit grin on her face, sayin', 'Tomorrow night for sure, Maggie.' I mean, Jesus Christ, you wouldn't think an old whore like Betsy would make such a big fucking deal out of it, would you? She's in there with him again right now. Meanwhile, we're gettin' swamped, and now you tell me Adeline's comin'! No way, Patty. Call her back and tell her you broke your leg or something."
"Aw, Aunt Maggie," Patty panted, "I can't-uhn!-I can't do that. I tell ya, she really sounded fucked up. Just like that first night-uhn!-only worse, I think."
"Well, what the hell am I supposed to do about it?! She wants a boy and we just ain't got any . . . Wait a minute. Hm . . . If she's that bad off ... I don't know, she's not ready for this but maybe we can pull a shitty on her and get ourselves another stud at the same time. We could put her in my room, the big one with the waterbed, and ... It'll be tricky and she could cause us a lot of trouble if it doesn't work, but. ..."
"If what doesn't-uhn!-work?"
"Never mind. You just get Jack over here as soon as ya can and we'll.. . Patty, what the hell's the matter with you?"
"Nothin'," Patty grunted. "I'm fine."
"Well, what's all that pantin' and puffin' all about?"
"Oh, that," Patty giggled. "Roy's fuckin' me in the ass."
"Oh," Maggie said. "Well, hang up, you're gettin' me hot."
Patty hung up and came. Roy came, too, and then they got dressed and left. Five minutes later Adeline was on her way to the hotel.
"Holy shit," Roy said, looking around at the ruins of Adeline's living room. "This is worse than Aunt Maggie's office after Dad blew it up."
"You oughta see the hall," Jack said.
"What happened?"
"Me and Mother had a little fight."
"Jesus Christ," Patty said, picking a sliver of glass out of her foot. "Good thing you didn't have a big one."
Jack said, "I thought Mother was stay in' home tonight."
"I guess she changed her mind," Patty said. "You ready to get laid?"
"Hell, yes!" said Jack, his little face lighting up. "Let's go then."
Meanwhile, at the hotel-while Teddy fucked the barfly and her boozy friend played 69 with little Rick and Oscar clambered frantically up and down ladders with a half-burnt copy of Popular Electronics in one hand and a screwdriver in the other and Stevie and Mick waited impatiently for the lady from Palm Beach and Aunt Maggie and Rose ran amok trying to get Maggie's room rigged up for Adeline, all to the steady background music of squeaking bedsprings from the rooms of Mary, Goldy and Beverly-Betsy was in her room, sweating it out with her son Stanley.
Betsy wasn't at all pleased with the way this was turning out. Stanley had seemed to take it pretty well when she told him she was a whore and all-she guessed he must have suspected anyway-but ever since she'd moved him into the hotel he'd been sullen and withdrawn, always in a shitty mood. Maggie kept heckling her to break him in but she couldn't just rape him, for Christ's sake.
Not that she didn't want to. That was what she had realized after getting it on with little Jack that night, that she had actually wanted to fuck her son for a long time now but had never admitted it to herself until then. That was why she decided to move him in and to let him join the stud farm if he wanted to-but to let him do that, take on all those strange women, without doing it with her first, was unthinkable to Betsy. After all, a mother had some rights, didn't she?
But how could she fuck him when she couldn't even talk to him?
Stanley was thirteen but small for his age-a soft-bodied little boy, not fat but with a round freckled face, a shock of thick red hair on his head and none at all between his legs. There had never been that hang-up about nudity between him and his mother like between Jack and Adeline, so tonight Betsy was wearing one of her transparent dressing gowns-a yellow, lace-edged, front-opening thing, gathered loosely under her enormous tits with a silk sash-and Stanley wasn't wearing anything but his underpants. Betsy was propped up in bed, flipping nervously through a magazine, and Stanley was sitting glumly in the chair by the window, as usual, staring out into the dark alley.
For the last three nights they had played and replayed this dismal scene, sometimes sitting for hours without saying a word, and when Betsy did say something Stanley usually ignored her. A break in the stalemate was on its way, however. It was all a matter of mutual misunderstanding, as it turned out, and this was about to clear itself up.
Betsy thought about Maggie chewing her out again in the morning and she threw her magazine down in exasperation. "Stanley, what is it?" she pleaded. "Why are you acting like this?"
"I ain't actin' like anything," Stanley mumbled without looking at her.
Betsy sighed and hung her head. "It's because you're ashamed of me, isn't it? I never shoulda told you how I . . . make my living."
"I knew it anyway," Stanley muttered.
"Well, then-?"
"And I ain't ashamed of ya."
"Yes, you are."
"No, I ain't!" the boy snapped, looking daggers at her and then turning back to the window.
"Well. . . you're mad at me, then. What are you mad at me about?"
Stanley didn't say anything.
"Stanley, why don't you tell me what-?"
Stanley let out a loud sigh of boredom and slammed his pudgy little hand down on the arm of the chair. "Speakin' of makin' your living," he said, "how come you ain't doin' it? Aunt Maggie ain't payin' ya to hang around in here every night, is she?"
Betsy stared at the back of his head. She was confused and upset but at least she had him talking and that was something. She said, "Why ... I'm sort of . . . on vacation . . . sort of. Anyway, I'd much rather spend my evenings with you than-"
"Bullshit," Stanley said.
"Stanley! It is not bullshit! Don't you think I like to be with you?"
Stanley muttered something Betsy couldn't make out-something like, "Not as much as you like to be with" somebody or other.
"What?" she asked.
"Nothin'."
"Come on, Stanley, for God's sake tell me what you're mad at me about!"
Finally, the kid whipped around in his chair and glared at her angrily. "Okay, you wanta know what I'm mad about? I'll tell ya what I'm mad about! I'm mad about what you did with that little shitass Jack or whatever his name is! That's what I'm mad about!"
Oh, shit! Betsy thought. How did he find out about that? One of the other boys must have told him. He is ashamed of me! His own mother, going to bed with a little boy! He must think I'm just awful, doing a thing like that! He thinks even a whore shouldn't stoop that low! Oh, God, it'll never work now, not if that's the way he feels about it. I'll just have to tell Maggie it's all off and move him back into the apartment. Goddamn it, I never should have- "Well, aren't ya gonna say nothin'?" Stanley demanded, still glaring at her.
"I . . . But, Stanley, Maggie made me do it!"
"Bullshit."
"She did! She's my boss, ya know."
"You liked it."
"I did not! I only ..." Oh, what was the use? Betsy hung her head in shame. "Okay, so I like it. So I'm a rotten old whore that'll spread for anything. So well move back to the apartment and-"
"I don't wanta move back to the apartment."
"Well, what do you want, then? You want me to put ya up for adoption or-?"
"You know damn well what I want. Why don't ya stop playin' dumb? Why don't ya just say, 'No, you're too fat,' or something!?"
Betsy looked up at him. "Who's too fat?"
"Me,"
Huh? . . . "You're not fat, Stanley. What the hell are you talkin' about?"
Stanley rolled his eyes in disgust. "Jesus Christ," he said.
"I don't get it," Betsy said. "You lost me."
Stanley glanced at her bushy cunt which was sticking out where the gown parted and at her oversized boobs with their big pancake nipples showing vividly through the sheer yellow nylon. Then he looked at her puzzled face and seemed to realize that maybe she really didn't understand. "Listen," he said patiently in a voice you would use if you were talking to a simpleton, "what if you was livin' with your father and he was fuckin' some little girl the same age as you and he wouldn't do it with you? Like, you're his own daughter and he doesn't even hardly know this other girl but still he won't . . . Well, how would you feel?"
Betsy wasn't sure, but right now she felt a little dizzy. She said, "Would you . . . run through that again?"
"Never mind," Stanley sighed. "Why don't ya just leave me alone?" And he turned back to the window.
Betsy just sat there for a few minutes. Then she said, "Stanley, are you trying to tell me that you . . . that you want to fuck me?"
"Well, what the hell do ya expect?" Stanley shouted, spinning around again, "-the way you're all the time paradin' around bare-ass and shakin' them tits in my face and everything?! Y' think that's not supposed to do anything to me just 'cause you're my mother? What d'ya think, I'm some kinda freak or something"
"Stanley-!"
"Go ahead and get mad, I don't care."
Betsy would have leaped up and bear-hugged him but she was too dizzy. She almost fell off the bed. "Stanley, honey," she said. "I'm not mad at you. Come sit over here." She patted the bed beside her.
"You are, too," the boy said sullenly.
"I am not. Come on, honey, Please."
Finally, Stanley got up and went over to the bed. The crotch of his undershorts was sticking straight out in a point. Betsy reached out and slipped her trembling fingers inside the elastic waistband, drawing it a few inches down his soft, freckled little belly.
"Why don't ya take these off?" she said.
Stanley looked down at her suspiciously for a minute, his blue eyes flickering over her tits. Then he stepped out of his shorts and sat down on the edge of the bed.
His prick was short and thick with a little mushroom head. It was hard as a rock and when Betsy wrapped her hot fingers around it, gently skinning it down, it got even harder.
"You're a cute kid," Betsy said in a husky voice, smiling seductively up at him, "but, God, are you dumb. What the hell do ya think I've been try in' to get you to do for the last three nights?"
Stanley swallowed, then shrugged, trying to keep his cool. "Why didn't ya say so?" he said.
"Why didn't you?"
"You never asked me."
They looked into each other's eyes for a minute and then giggled.
Then Betsy let her hand slip from Stanley's prick, lay back on the bed, undid her sash, opened her dressing gown, spread her legs, held her arms out toward the boy and said, "Come to Ma-"
Just then the TV monitor that Oscar had installed over the bed crackled into life and some politician said, "Come home, America!"-and then there was a little pop! and the screen went dark. So did all the lights in the room.
CHAPTER EIGHT
If she could have found him in the dark, Maggie would have strung Oscar up by the balls for sure. It was nothing serious, though-he had blown a master fuse, that was all, and it only took him a few minutes to replace it. I still don't see how he managed to tune in a national network on a closed-circuit TV system, but then neither does he.
Adeline had arrived by this time and she and Rose were halfway up the stairs when the lights went off. When they came back on and the confusion had died down, the ladies went on up to the second floor and Rose continued her briefing. She had already explained to Adeline that this was a new boy she was getting tonight and that he was a little weird. The only way he would do it was in complete darkness.
"Not only that," Rose went on, "he has to have complete silence, too. If you say one single word you'll spook him and it'll be all over. So don't say anything, and don't turn on any lights-don't even light a cigarette-because if you fuck this up, that's it, there's not another available kid in the house."
Adeline was a little calmer now with the prospect of a piece of ass ahead of her-a strange piece at that. "Ill be careful," she said. "Business seems to be picking up, doesn't it?"
"It sure does," Rose said. "In fact, that's why we had to set you up in Maggie's room tonight. It's the only one that's not being used. You're lucky there, though. It's the biggest room in the place, except for the Bridal Suite, and she's got a huge waterbed in there. I'll bet you've never been laid on a waterbed, have you?"
"No, never," Adeline said with a nervous laugh.
"Well, you're going to be tonight. Here we are." Rose put her hand on the doorknob and whispered: "Duck in quick as soon as I open the door, and don't forget what I told you."
Adeline nodded, slipped into the darkness and Rose shut the door behind her.
Adeline almost cried out in alarm and blew the whole gig right then and there. It was like going blind and having a sack thrown over your head at the same time. Rose should have told her about the black curtain they had hung up in front of the door. She managed to grope her way out from behind the curtain but it was still just as dark as before. That was because they had also hung black curtains over the windows to shut out the red glow of the neon sign over the bar across the street. Adeline had expected it to be dark but not that dark.
How am I supposed to even find the bed? she wondered. That was another thing Rose had forgot to tell her. Oh, well. First things first, she thought and proceeded to remove all her clothes.
Then she moved cautiously forward, one step at a time, hands stretched out in front of her, feeling her way through the empty blackness. She found a chair, a wall, a table of some kind . . . but where the fuck was the bed? Then she stubbed her toe on something and fell flat on her face.
SPLOOSH! GURGLE, GURGLE!
Again, it was all she could do to keep from crying out. It was like falling into something between a bathtub and a fur-covered trampoline. She held her breath until the sloshing and gurgling stopped and found herself "floating" on a soft, furry, undulating something that rocked and rolled gently under her naked body. It was like being at sea on a rubber raft covered with a bearskin rug on the darkest night of the year. It was sort of nice.
This must be the waterbed, she thought and, steadying herself, began a groping advance, slithering forward on her belly like a snake.
She hadn't groped far before her hand came in contact with a foot. A small foot. Ah-ha, she thought. Ankle, shin, knee, thigh. . . . Mmmmmmm!
Oh, this felt like a nice one! Solid, hairless little balls, drawn up tight between his smooth little legs. Firm asscheeks, tight crack, warm-Oh, he was ready, too! His buttocks clenched on her probing finger and his stiff little cock sprang into her other hand, twitching. Mm. Uncircumcised, like Jack's. She skinned it down and found the hard bullet-nosed head all slick and warm. Thin, hot oily fluid welled up out of the little hole under her thumb and she slid her thumb off and tasted it with the tip of her tongue.
Mmmmmmm! Delicious! This was going to be fun, doing it in the dark like this. I know what I'll do, she thought, her cunt watering at the idea. I'll pretend it's John!
The boy spread his legs wide and Adeline felt his fingers combing through her hair. She moved up over him and rubbed his juicy little cockhead on her nipples until they were puffed up and the knobs were fully erect, as hard as raisins. Then she took her tits in her hands and sandwiched his prick tightly between them. His slim hips began to hump eagerly and he fucked her like that for a while.
Then Adeline moved further up on the bed, straddling the boy's waist and lowering a nipple to his mouth. The tender young lips closed over it and immediately began to suck the slippery wet knob.
Oh, suck it, Jack! Suck Mother's tit! As he sucked she scrubbed her hairy crotch against his belly and her cunt got juicier and juicier and pretty soon the juice had filled up his belly button.
Mmmmmm! Now suck the other one, honey. She guided her other nipple to his mouth and slid her cunt down along his belly until she felt his prick twitching in the crack of her ass. Suck, suck, suck! Oh, Jack! She reached back and started to shove his prick into her cunt, then hesitated. . . .
No, wait. Let's take up where we left off. Yeah! And this time we'll do it right!
She rolled the boy over on his stomach and reversed herself, mounting him head-to-foot like she had done on the floor of the hall in front of Jack's room less than an hour ago. She replayed the whole thing-sliding her hand up along the backs of his legs to his little bare butt, bending over so that her tits rested on his back, spreading the soft cheeks, breathing into his crack-but this time she didn't stop there.
Caressing his balls with the tip of her nose, Adeline stuck out her tongue and wiggled it hungrily into his tight, sweet little asshole.
O-o-o-o-o-h-h-h-h, J-a-a-ack!
Meanwhile, the rich bitch from Palm Beach had arrived, right on time, all business, just like her secretary, and was now sitting on Stevie's face while she sucked Mick's prick. I was working a little myself that night, to take some of the load off the other girls, and it was when I opened my door to let one guy out and another one in that I saw her-the rich bitch-down in the lobby clarifying certain "security matters" with Maggie. She was a sort of gaunt hard-bodied old thing, about fifty I guess, with grim-looking eyes, a hawk nose and small sharp tits that stuck out under her gray flannel suit like a pair of horns. She had money all right, you could see that, but from the looks of her I was sure she wasn't the benefactor Aunt Maggie was looking for.
Elsewhere in the hotel, the bar-fly and her friend were still going strong with Rick and Teddy, and Teddy's father was still dashing through the halls, his nose buried in his Popular Electronics, muttering to himself and running into things. Downstairs, Maggie and Rose had their heads together, making all kinds of elaborate plans about how they were really going to put it on for old Mrs. Moneybags and sweep her right off her feet, and the bedsprings in the girls' rooms were still squeaking away (Goldy had to take on two at a time at one point) and in Betsy's room things were going beautifully. It must have been about this time that old George Hellow came staggering in. But first let's look in on Betsy.
Stanley had his round little face buried between his mama's gigantic jugs, pressing them against his ears with his pudgy hands, and his plump little freckle-cheeked butt was humping up and down between her open thighs like a couple of punching bags in Mohammed Ali's gym at work-out time.
Stanley had never dreamed that a cunt could do the things his mama's cunt was doing. He wasn't as stupid about sex as Jack or Stevie had been before they got their first piece, but he thought a cunt was mostly just a hole to stick your prick in. He knew it was supposed to be tight, but holy shit!-he didn't know it was supposed to grab you and squeeze you and suck you and all that. If he'd known it would be this good he probably would have raped Betsy-or somebody-long before this.
He was going, "Mf! Mf! Mf!"-his face completely engulfed in the hot flesh of those enormous blimps, and Betsy was going: "Oh!-wow!-goddamn! Oh!-ah! Shit!-mm! Oh!-ah!-" and all like that. Stanley's stubby little prick was really setting her on fire. Her cunt was overflowing like an erupting volcano and her head was flopping from side to side and her legs were twitching and jerking and her nipples were swollen up so tight it felt like they were about to go off like Roman candles and Stanley's belly was going splat! splat! splat! in her crotch and-!
Suddenly, in one powerful spasmodic twitch, she wrapped her long strong birdlike legs around her son's pounding ass, hugged his shaggy little head to her heaving chest, and doubled up like she had a stomach cramp.
"Oh!-Stan-Stanley!" she gasped, gurgling on her own drool. "-I-I'm gonna-I'm gonna-!"
"Mf! Mf! Mf!"
"-I'm gonna c-c-c-!"
"Mf! Mf! Mf!"
"CUM!"
And she did, too, stronger than with Jack, even. Stanley got off about that time, too, but she didn't feel his cum squirting against her cunt walls until after the main surge of her climax had passed, and as soon as she felt it she started cumming all over again. She went into a chain orgasm that she didn't think would ever stop!
In the pitch-black darkness of Maggie's room things were proceeding at a slower pace. Slower but not less passionately. Adeline was drawing it out, sucking the maximum pleasure out of every caress, savoring every delicious moment of the half-real fantasy.
She was still sitting astraddle the mysterious little boy, facing his feet, but now he was on his back, stirring her flooded cunt with one hand and tickling her asshole with the other, while she played with his balls and jacked his prick. Sometimes she would lift his legs and rub her swollen nipples against his knees, and sometimes he would run his little hands up her sides and smear cunt juice on her tits.
Now she slid her crotch back along his slick wet chest, closer to his face, bent over and, spreading his legs wide with her hands, sucked his hard, smooth little nuts into her mouth.
Oh, Jack! Oh, honey! I just love your balls! O, God, how I love 'em!
Then she started sucking his prick, letting her spit run down around his balls, and he began pushing on the cheeks of her broad ass, trying to lift them, and so she got to her knees and let him position her crotch where he wanted it, thinking, Oh, yeah! Yeah, Jack, do that to me! Go ahead! Lick Mama's-!
This time Adeline did make a noise: "Ohm-!"
She couldn't help it. You can't blame her, she was expecting the kid to eat her cunt and instead he stuck his tongue up her ass. Luckily, it didn't scare the boy off, though, which was a relief to Adeline. He just kept on tongue-fucking her in the asshole, slipping one hand all the way into her cunt and frigging her stiff clit with his other thumb, and Adeline kept sucking his throbbing little sugar stick for all she was worth, not holding back now but really getting it on, going all the way, sucking for cum.
Oh, give it to me, Jack! Give me your cum! Squirt it in my mouth! Shoot it down my throat! Oh, I want it, I want it!
And it wasn't long before the first blob jetted against her tongue: SPURT!
And Adeline came at the same time, a great burst of goo farting out of her boiling cunt, sputtering around the boy's fingers and dripping down over his chin and neck as she gulped his squirting cum, and for a while it was the old spurt, gulp! spurt, gulp!-but between, say, the fifth gulp and the sixth spurt Adeline became vaguely aware of a commotion out in the hall- "Maggie! Hey, Maggie, you in there? I just gotta-!" -And then the door flew open.
CHAPTER NINE
I had just finished balling the third guy from some bowling team-they'd decided not to go bowling after all-when I heard this loud shriek- "AAAAIIIIIHU" -Followed by a thud that shook the whole second floor.
I thought, holy shit, what was that? and I hopped off the bowler and ran out into the hall where I was immediately mauled by the rest of the team who were standing in line outside my door. Since I was bare-ass I guess they thought I was going to fuck them out there in the hall.
While I was fighting off these horny bowlers (one of them actually got his cock into me with a hicky jab) I saw little Stanley standing in front of the door to Maggie's room in his underpants with his hands on top of his head. The door was open and he was looking down at the floor inside the room like something horrible was going on in there.
Finally I got loose and ran up to the kid. "What's the matter?" I asked. "What hap-?" Then I heard Betsy's muffled voice, crying, "Help! Help! Get me outta here!" and I looked down and saw something wrapped up in a black shroud, rolling and thrashing around on the floor. It looked like a big black lumpy worm having some kind of fit. I said, "What's that?"
"It's my mama," Stanley said.
"Oh," I said. "What's she doing down there on the-?"
Just then two shrill shock-tinged cries of surprise almost simultaneously exploded from the darkness beyond the struggling shape: "JOHN!!"
"MOTHER!!"
It was fairly obvious what had happened, even then, and later I found out the details. Betsy had been bubbling over, so to speak, with joy and excitement over having finally made it with her little boy and she just couldn't wait to let Maggie in on the good news and tell her how great it had been and all. So she had thrown her dressing gown on and Stanley had put on his drawers and they had dashed out into the hall where Betsy almost collided with Oscar who was shuffling along with his nose in his Popular Electronics, reciting Ohm's Law under his breath.
"Where's Maggie?" Betsy had asked him.
"In her room, I guess," Oscar had muttered into his magazine.
So Betsy-who of course didn't know about Maggie's clever scheme to bring Jack and his mama together-charged headlong into that black curtain like a giraffe running into a net on "Wild Kingdom."
This blew the scheme all to hell, because Adeline and Jack weren't supposed to find out who they'd been in bed with until afterwards when Maggie could break it to them gradually, if at all, depending on whether she thought they were ready for it. The lighting in the hallway was dim, but in comparison to the blind darkness inside the black-out room the light that suddenly streamed through the door when the curtain (and Betsy) came crashing down was like the beam of a flood lamp.
The shocking revelation didn't come right at that moment, though, because Adeline and Jack had their heads between each other's legs at that time. It wasn't until I had fought off my would-be gang-bangers and Adeline's orgasm had sputtered out that she slid her mouth off the boy's spent prick and turned around to have a look at him. That's where I came in.
Now they were crouched there, wide-eyed and open-mouthed, gawking at each other across the huge waterbed, bobbing up and down like a couple of ducks.
"John Howard Charles!" Adeline gasped. "What-?! What are you doing here?!"
"What am I doin' here? Wh-what are you doin' here?"
"I-! Just-just never you mind that, young man! I-I demand an explanation! Who brought you to this horrible place?!"
"I-uh-I don't think I oughta tell ya."
"John, I'm warning you! This is the most-! If you don't-! Why, I never would have-! Rose! She knew! That's why she told me not to-! Oh . . . oh, dear. . . ."
Adeline didn't know what to do. She felt like she was about to faint.
Jack looked over at us with dazed eyes and said, "Betsy, uh, I think maybe you better go get Aunt Maggie."
I had switched on a lamp, dragged Stanley into the room and shut the door and the kid and I had managed to get Betsy unwrapped before she smothered to death. Now the three of us were sitting on the floor digging the scene on the waterbed and wondering what to do about it. This was just the sort of thing Maggie dreaded-the wrath of a shocked mother-but Betsy didn't seem to grasp the seriousness of it. She was in sort of a daze herself-understandably enough.
She said, "I thought Maggie was in here. Sorry I came crashin' in like that but I wanted to tell her. . . Hey, I didn't mess ya up in the middle o' gettin' your goodies, did I?"
Jack swallowed and glanced fearfully at Adeline, who had her head bowed, one hand over her face and the other pressed to her tits. "No," he said, "but..."
I nudged Betsy in the ribs and said, "Cool it," out of the corner of my mouth. "I think it was sort of a blind date. That's his mama."
"That's your mama?" Betsy said out loud with a broad smile.
"Uh," said Jack.
"No shit!" Betsy said happily, jumping up and running over to the bed. She bent over, her huge jugs tumbling out of her dressing gown which had come open during her battle with the curtain, stuck her hand out toward Adeline and said, "Put 'er there, honey! Welcome to the club!"
Slowly, uncertainly, Adeline lifted her head and looked up at Betsy through her fingers. She looked at that grinning face framed in a mane of stiff platinum blonde hair that was standing out in all directions, at those naked blimplike tits hanging from that skinny body, blinked her eyes and said in a shaky voice, "I beg your pardon?"
I figured I'd better step in but I didn't know exactly how to go about it. I said, "Adeline, this is Betsy Jones. Betsy, uh, Adeline Charles."
"Glad t' meetcha, Addy!" Betsy said, shoving her hand closer to Adeline. "First time with your kid, right? Mine, too-with mine, I mean. That's him over there. Stanley, say hello to Addy."
"Uh, hello, Addy," Stanley said nervously.
"Hey, what's the matter?" Betsy said, peering, curiously at Adeline. "You sick or somethin'?"
Adeline was white as a ghost. She stared at Betsy's outstretched hand for a minute, then turned her head and give me a look that damn near shriveled me up. Her eyes were like ice cubes. I wished I'd put something on before I came running in there. In a cold, trembling, almost inaudible voice that cut like a razor blade, she said: "Miss Green, you had better explain this to . .. this woman that she, as well as you, and Mrs. Sanders, and her sister, and everyone else that was involved in this . . . this abduction of my son, will be behind bars in a very short while, and that my advice to her is that she spend what time she has left in some better way than-"
"Behind bars?!" Betsy cried, jerking her hand away and stepping back. "What the fuck are you talkin' about?"
"Uh, we were just leaving," I said, getting up and shoving Stanley toward the door. "Come on, Betsy, let's-"
"Now, wait a minute!" Betsy said. She had her fists on her snakelike hips and was glaring down at Adeline, her gigantic tits billowing out in front of her and her brown bush bristling between her parted legs like an alarmed porcupine. "Wait just a goddamn minute! What's this abduction shit? What's the matter, didn't ya like it? I mean, I see ya comin' around here every fuckin' night, fuckin' every fuckin' kid y' can get your fuckin' hands on, and I never noticed ya complainin' about them. Now ya get a piece o' your own kid and-"
"Mrs. Jones!"
"It's Miss," Betsy said in the same angry tone. (By now I'm about to shit myself. I was in jail once and didn't care for it. All those dykes and everything.) "I mean, even if ya didn't like it, that's a hell of a way to act, insultin' your kid like that. I mean, Jesus Christ, he did the best he could-right, Jack? I mean, shit, Addy, you oughta at least have the good manners to-"
"I didn't say I didn't like it, goddamn you!" Adeline screamed and then she covered her face with her hands and began sobbing hysterically.
"Aw, shit, Addy," Betsy said in a softer tone, sitting down on the bed and putting her hand on Adeline's foot, "don't cry. I didn't mean to . . ."
Jack crawled over to his mother and sat down beside her. He started to put his arms around her . . . but it had been a long time since he'd done that-in the light-and he didn't quite know how to go about it. Then he started to say something, but he couldn't do that either. So he just sat there, looking at her.
Betsy gave the boy an understanding nod and patted Adeline's foot. "Go ahead and cry it out, honey," she said. "Hey, don't I know how ya feel? Shit, me and Stanley had the same sort o' hang-ups as you guys-didn't we, Stan? I mean, there we were, both of us wantin' it and me thinkin' he'd be shocked out of his little mind if he knew and him thinkin' the same thing about me and both of us gettin' all fucked up in the head and all. But then, hell, after we made it everything was okay. That's what I came in here for, see-to tell Maggie how groovy it was and all. 'Course, we didn't do it in the dark like you guys did and we knew who we were fuckin' and all, so I can understand why it shook ya up when I come bustin' in on ya like that. But, hell, it's no big thing really. I mean, Rose is ballin' her kid and old Oscar's ballin' his daughter and now me and Stanley are gettin' it on and . .."
While Betsy jabbered on like that and Adeline sobbed and Jack sat there looking sadly at her, Stanley and I went around to the other side of the bed and sat down, mostly just to get out of the line of fire. I'd been about to slip out and go get Maggie but now I thought I'd just wait it out and see what happened. If Adeline had her heart set on screwing us there wasn't much Maggie could do about it anyway.
I sat cross-legged and Stanley stretched out on his back in front of me. It was his first time on a waterbed and he got a big kick out of it. He liked the way my tits jiggled when he moved his butt up and down. I guess he felt funny being the only one in the room with any clothes on-except for Betsy, but that see-through gown of hers could hardly be called "clothes," especially when it was hanging open like that-because pretty soon he pulled down his underpants and kicked them off. Just to while away the time I started playing with his prick and it got hard. I sort of lost track of what was happening on the other side of the bed for a few minutes there, but then I realized that Adeline had stopped crying and I looked up to see her and Jack hugging each other. "Oh, Jack!"
"I'm sorry I. . . Hey, you never called me Jack before."
"Can I call you that now?"
"Sure. I'm sorry about.. . what happened, Mother. See, they told me-"
"Don't be sorry, honey. And why don't you call me Mom?"
"Mom?"
"Uh huh. Or whatever you like."
"Mom's okay. See, they told me I was gettin' this lady that was shy or somethin' and wouldn't do it except in the dark. And they said if I said anything she'd get so embarrassed she'd run away and I wouldn'd get any . . ."
"Pussy?"
"Uh huh. Because all the other ladies were busy, they said."
Adeline relaxed her bear hug and drew back a little, looking into Jack's face with smiling, tear-reddened eyes. "You know something?" she said.
"What?" said Jack.
"That's the same thing they told me." Jack thought about that for a minute and then laughed.
Then Adeline laughed.
Then Betsy laughed, and so did I, and then we all laughed together and the bed rippled and rolled like a fat lady's belly. Stanley was the only one who wasn't laughing but that was only because he had one of my tits stuffed into his mouth.
Adeline reached across Jack and put her arms around Betsy, hugging her close so that Jack was sandwiched between them. "Thank you, Betsy," she said. "I. . . I'm sorry I was so nasty to you."
"Aw, shit, that's okay, Addy," Betsy said, returning the hug and patting Adeline on the back. "Like I told ya, I understand how it was."
"You're sweet."
"This is neat," Jack said. He'd had his cheeks jammed between two tits before but not the tits belonging to two different women.
They looked down at him and laughed, and them, almost sobbing again, but this time with joy, Adeline said, "Oh, Jack! I've been such a bitch of a mother."
"That's okay," Jack said. "Gosh, I wish somebody had told me you'd been comin' here all the time. But I guess I wouldn'a believed 'em if they had of. I mean ..." Then he looked up at her and, in a sheepish voice, said: "I-I'm sorry I broke that mirror, Mom."
For almost a full minute they just sat there, looking into each other's eyes. Then Adeline smiled and said, "Fuck the mirror."
Things got a little confusing after that, and besides, Betsy's kid was making it hard for me to concentrate on what was happening. I guess it was Betsy who turned the lights down low but I'm not sure. I remember seeing Betsy's dressing gown up near the ceiling just as Stanley rolled on top of me and stuck his prick in my cunt. It came floating down through the dim light like a sheer yellow parachute and then somebody dropped a tit in my face and I lost sight of the gown.
For a while there it was quite a ride. Little Stanley was down between my legs fucking the shit out of me and my head was resting on somebody's belly and there were two pairs of tits, nipple to nipple, bouncing up and down above my face, and the big waterbed was leaping and gurgling like I don't know what.
It was Jack's belly and the tits of course belonged to Adeline and Betsy. Adeline was sitting on Jack's hips and Betsy was sitting on his face.
They were facing each other, holding onto each other's shoulders, laughing and grunting and rubbing their boobs together. Jack's cock was in his mother's cunt, his tongue was in Betsy's, and one of his hands was clutching at one of my tits. Stanley was clutching at my other one and with his other hand he kept reaching out to grab his mother's and Adeline's. When he started to cum he fell forward with his face buried between my boobs and his arms outstretched. They told me later he got a grip on his mama's cunt with one hand and Adeline's with the other, hooking his plump little thumbs into the top corner of each slit, which made both of them drool all over themselves.
Then I felt Jack's belly tighten up under my head and heard him gurgle-grunting in Betsy's hairy crotch and it must have been about then that Aunt Maggie came storming into the room, but I didn't pay any attention at first because I was just starting to get my goodies.
CHAPTER TEN
Actually, that ought to be the end of this book, because since then everything has been just fine between Adeline and Jack. Adeline has become a warm, loving mother and that hard cold shell she wore for so long has dissolved completely. Jack doesn't destroy things any more-because all he needed was a little love, after all-and the only time he's gotten into trouble since then, as far as I know, was last week when a couple of irate parents came to Adeline's house claiming that Jack knocked up their fourteen-year-old daughter. But they couldn't prove it was Jack. "Shit," Jack told them, sitting on the arm of his mother's chair, "everybody on the block's been ballin' her." So Adeline told them to fuck off.
But I'm going to tell you the rest of what happened that night because, for one thing, it was the beginning of Aunt Maggie's success here in West Palm Beach and, for another, it's just too good to leave out.
If I tried to write down all the yelling and swearing Maggie did when she first came into the room I'd just be guessing because, like I said, I was way out in orgasm-land at the time-orgasm ocean, I should say, the way that waterbed was heaving. By the time I came out of it Maggie must have grasped the situation. I lifted Betsy's tit from my face and peeked out to see her slumped in an armchair across the room, staring blankly at us. Her expression was like what you would expect to see on the face of somebody whose doctor had just told them they had a month to live. I thought she was worried about the blackout plan getting fucked up and was afraid Adeline was going to sic the heat on us, so I started explaining what had happened, telling her it was okay now, everything was fine, nothing to worry about and all that. I was halfway through my explanation before I realized that she didn't give a shit about that at all. She just sat there staring at me with her eyes out of focus. I thought, What the fuck? and then I remembered part of what she'd been yelling when she came in-something about "an emergency." I said, "Maggie, what is it? What happened?"
By now Adeline and Betsy had caught their breath and come out of their shuddering huddle. After struggling for a minute, Jack got his head out from under Betsy's ass and sat up, wiping the cunt juice from his face with the back of his hand. Stanley pulled his limp prick out of me and sat up, too. They all looked at Maggie.
She shrugged, sighed, lifted her hands from the arms of the chair and let them fall back in a helpless gesture. Her big watermelon tits, which usually rode fairly high in spite of their weight, were sagging down to her waist. Her heavy legs were spread and I noticed that even her cunt looked sort of limp and hopeless.
"The chance of a lifetime," she said, "And I blew it. Probably it woulda been all right if I'd just told her we couldn't swing it this time. 'We're booked up solid tonight, Mrs. M.,' I shoulda told her. 'How 'bout tomorrow? If we'd only known earlier-' "
"Mrs. M.?!" I said.
And to make a long story short, Maggie explained that a few minutes ago Mrs. M. had called back to say that she had changed her plans and had left Miami shortly after their little talk earlier that evening. Could Maggie have a room ready for her in half an hour? Half an hour?! It was all Maggie could do to keep her cool. What the hell was she going to do? Then she thought of Stanley and impulsively told Mrs. M. that that would be fine, everything would be ready for her in half an hour. Maggie hung up the phone, dashed out of the office and ran into George Hellow who, she said, went down like a bowling pin.
George had been hanging around the lobby for about a half hour, trying to mooch a free piece off of Rose or Maggie. It was bad enough with Oscar blundering around conducting his electronic experiments at the hotel's peril, Maggie said, but with that horny old wino getting underfoot the atmosphere was already bordering on chaos even before Mrs. M. called. I asked her if George got hurt when she ran over him and she said, "I hope so. If that worthless sonofabitch is still there when I get back I'm gonna personally throw him out on his ass."
Anyway, after trampling poor George, Maggie ran on upstairs to Betsy's room. She was going to tell Betsy that she was going to have to use Stanley and if Betsy didn't like it she could ram it. She didn't like to do it like that, but this was an emergency, and besides, Betsy had been fucking around too long, she should have had the kid broke in three days ago.
But of course Betsy wasn't in her room. Neither was Stanley. Now what the fuck? In a panic, Maggie charged back out into the hall and spotted the bowling team outside my room. She asked them if they'd seen a skinny blonde with big tits and they said, yeah, her and some little kid in his skivvies went in that room down there and Maggie said, "What room?" and they pointed to it and Maggie said, "Oh, shit."
You know the rest of it.
Seeing how dejected Maggie looked, Adeline felt sorry for her. She said, "Jack could take care of her, I'll bet. I wouldn't mind if-"
"Shit," Maggie said. "You checked his prick lately?"
Everybody looked at Jack's prick, which was as limp as a sick minnow and about the same size. Stanley said, "Well, what about me? I could . . ."
Then we all looked at Stanley's prick and of course it was in the same condition as Jack's. I said, "Look, give me five minutes with these kids and-"
But Maggie cut me off: "How many times have you guys got your rocks off tonight?"
"Uh-twice for me," Jack said. "Me, too," said Stanley.
Maggie sighed. "Mrs. M. doesn't want any fucked out leftovers. She wants fresh, throbbin' kiddy prick, so hard-up that anything'll get it hot, even her. Thanks, kids, but it's no use. We're sunk."
It sure looked that way, too. Mrs. Barfly and friend were apparently making a night of it with Rick and Teddy, and the Palm Beach bitch was still giving it hell with Mick and Stevie. If it hadn't been for this surprise visit from Mrs. M., things would have looked pretty good for Maggie, what with these two little studs suddenly added to the stable, making six kids altogether. But that didn't alleviate the immediate crisis.
After a few minutes Maggie got up and shuffled out of the room and the rest of us stayed there, bobbing up and down on the waterbed like a bunch of seagulls, trying to think of some way we could help Aunt Maggie. Then Patty came in. She'd met Maggie in the hall and had gotten the word about Adeline and Jack. "Well, congratulations, you two," she said, going over to the bed and giving them both a kiss on the cheek.
Adeline returned the kiss and said, "Thanks, Patty-you little sneak."
Patty laughed. "I sure was gettin' tired of babysitting every night," she said.
We all laughed but pretty soon the gloom settled over the room again, even though Patty's presence relieved it a little. She said she was helping Oscar get the TV stuff hooked up, but all she had to do was watch the monitor screen in Maggie's room and holler if anything happened. There was plenty of room for her on the big bed-her and several other people, in fact-so she took off her jeans and T-shirt and hopped aboard.
Meanwhile, Maggie had returned to the lobby to wait for the dreaded arrival of Mrs. M., and the first thing she saw was old George Hellow following Rose behind the desk with his battered hat in one hand and his enormous cock in the other. It was about a foot long and looked like an ancient stick of driftwood that had been dipped in bacon fat. He was trying to jab Rose in the ass with the greasy thing.
That did it. That was all Maggie needed-for Mrs. M. to come in and find that drunken scarecrow running around the lobby with his cock hanging out. Like a gigantic horned toad, she swelled up with rage and bore down on George from the rear like a Sherman tank.
George was saying, "Hey, look, Rosie, how 'bout later on, huh? After I take my kid home and-" when Maggie grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and the seat of the pants and lifted him right off the floor. "Hey! What-?!"
Rose spun around and saw George being carried off across the lobby, running in mid-air as though he were riding an invisible unicycle and frantically trying to stuff his cock back into his pants. Rose was a little alarmed because she'd never seen her sister in such a rage and she said, "Don't hurt him, Maggie! He might-"
"Hurt him?" Maggie snarled, ramming George through the screen door like a battering ram. "I'm not gonna hurt him, I'm just gonna see if he can fly!"
"Help! Help!" George yelled and Maggie was just about to launch him from the front porch when she saw a little ragamuffin street urchin sitting on the curb at the foot of the stairs. He was looking up at them with an alarmed look on his dirty little face.
Maggie was already into the foreswing that would have sent George hurtling into space like a big bird and in fact had already let go of the seat of his baggy pants, but she held on to his shirt and coat collar and threw her weight backwards.
George's feet flew up and he came to a jerking halt in mid-air. His bony ass bounced one on the top step and Maggie dragged him back onto the landing, hoisting him to his feet and thrusting her face into his.
"After you take your what home?!" she whispered.
"Wh-wh-what?" said George in a trembling voice, finally managing to get his prick back into his pants-because it was a lot easier to handle now than it had been before.
"Didn't I hear you say somethin' in there about takin' a kid home or somethin'?"
"Uh-y-yeah, m-my kid, G-Georgy, he-I-that's him down there, w-waitin' for me. I-I-I better be goin' now-!"
"Why, George," Maggie said in a soothing, honey-coated voice, glancing flirtatiously over his shoulder at the little boy down on the sidewalk, "what's your hurry, honey? Come on back in here and let's have a little talk, huh?"
"But-"
Maggie jerked him back into the porch and shoved him up against the wall. "Now then," she said sweetly, straightening his ragged old coat, brushing him off and striking a seductive pose, her huge half-naked tits swelling up out of her plunging neckline, "what was it you wanted, George?"
"Uh . . ."
Maggie came right to the point, because there was no time to lose, and luckily George was all for it. Rose came out on the porch to listen and when George said, "Come t' think of it, when I was his age that's all I ever thought about." She said: "It still is, isn't it, George?"
"Well . . . yeah," George said. "Mostly, anyway."
Rose laughed and Maggie said, "Never mind the chit-chat! Rose, you go down and get the boy-and make it snappy! She'll be here any minute!"
Maggie hustled George upstairs and Rose was right behind them with a very confused but excited George Jr. in tow. George Sr. about freaked out when Maggie shoved him into her room and he saw all us bare-assed women flaked out on that big waterbed, drifting up and down in the soft green light.
"We got lucky, kids!" Maggie cried, fairly bubbling over with excitement. "Old George here's been holdin' out on us. He's got the cutest little twelve-year-old boy you ever saw!"
"No shit?!" Betsy and I said at the same time, and then Adeline spotted Georgy himself as Rose rushed him past the open door.
"Oh, isn't he adorable!" she cried, jumping up and running out into the hall, stark naked.
Rose laughed. "Isn't he, though?" she said. "Sorry about that little trick we played on you, Adeline."
"Shit," Adeline said and then she hugged Rose and gave her a big kiss. "I just wish you'd done it a long time ago. What's his name?"
"Georgy."
"Hi, there, Georgy."
Georgy looked at Adeline's naked tits. Then he looked down at her bushy cunt. Then he swallowed and said, "Hi."
"Has Mrs. M. arrived yet?" Adeline asked.
Rose said, "No, thank God. We've gotta set up the Bridal Suite and get this boy cleaned up. Come on, Georgy, let's-"
"Hey, can I do it?" Adeline asked eagerly. "Can I give him a bath?"
"Sure," Rose said. "We can use all the help we can get. Let's go!"
Adeline stuck her head back into the room, told Jack she'd be back in a few minutes and took off after Rose and Georgy.
George was still standing there beside Maggie with his hat in his hands and his eyes bugging out of his head. He seemed especially turned on by Patty and me but he was giving Betsy's super-tits a lot of attention, too. Out of the corner of his mouth he said, "Hey, Maggie! Which one do I get?"
"Take your pick, George," Maggie said.
"Hot damn!" George said under his breath.
"You girls be re-e-e-e-e-al nice to George, now," Maggie said to us, and we said we would but I could tell Betsy and Patty weren't too thrilled with the idea of balling this slimy old wino.
Myself, though, I know better than to make flash judgments on a guy's appearance. I mean, I've got into it with dudes that would make George Hellow look like a Wall Street banker and some of them were damn fine in bed-or on the floor or in the alley or wherever it happened to be. So as soon as Maggie left I went over to George and started undressing him. He could have used a bath, too, but what the hell, we were all pretty slimy ourselves after all that fucking.
Stanley had started playing with his mama's tits again and, since I had volunteered to take George on, she turned away from us and settled back to enjoy her son's caresses. Jack was playing with Patty, too, but as soon as I got George's pants off and Patty saw that foot-long battering ram between his scrawny legs she sat up and took notice.
"Holy shit!" she said. "Bring it over here to the bed, Gina!"
So I brought "it" over there and Patty reached up and took the gigantic cock in both hands, staring at it as if it were some rare species of fish or something.
"What is it?" she asked incredulously. "That's m' cock, girlie," George said proudly. "Jesus," Patty said. "I thought it was your leg at first."
George chuckled, cupped one of my tits in his big bony hand and shoved his cock toward Patty's lips. "It runs in the family," he said.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
"Good heavens!" Adeline exclaimed.
She was sitting on the toilet seat in the bathroom of the Bridal Suite, undressing little Georgy while the tub was filling up. She had just pulled down his pants and now she was just sitting there staring at his pecker.
You can't much blame her for getting shook. I didn't believe it either the first time I saw it. Even if she'd known it "ran in the family" she wouldn't have been any less startled.
"Uh . . . what's the matter, lady?" Georgy asked.
"Huh? Oh-nothing, honey. I just wasn't expecting a little fellow like you to have such a . . . How old are you, anyway?"
"Twelve," said the boy. "How old are you?"
Adeline laughed and finished taking his pants off. "Old enough that I don't have to tell. Have you ever had a piece of ass?"
Georgy shook his head.
"I'll bet you jack off a lot, though, don't you?"
"Uh-huh."
Adeline put her hands on his skinny little hips and gazed at his prick again. "What a waste," she muttered.
This kid couldn't have weighed seventy-five pounds soaking wet. He has a cute pug-nosed face and a nice shaggy shock of straw-colored hair but he's too short for his age and at this time his hairless little body was all skin and bones. Standing up in front of me, he can barely suck my nipples without standing on his tiptoes, and I'm not all that tall. But the prick on him!
Three inches soft might not sound like much, but on a kid that size it's something to see. When Adeline first saw it was a little better than half-hard, like about four and a quarter inches, curving out over his balls-which were nothing to sneeze at, either-the red-head peeking out of the mouth of its foreskin. It looked to her like a rather long breakfast sausage with the meat coming out of the skin at one end-but a lot more appetizing than that. Georgy has filled out a lot since he moved into the Sago, because the boozy old lady he stayed with when old George was out scrounging for wine and pussy didn't feed him worth a shit-a situation which Maggie and Rose corrected in grand style-but even now you can't help but do a double-take when he pulls that prick out. So it's no wonder that-seeing it for the first time when he was still skinny and all, alone with him there in the bathroom, with her lingering feeling of giddy euphoria over her tumble with Jack-no wonder that Adeline got sort of spacey and forgot all about Mrs. M. and all that.
"There we are," she said. "Hop in."
Georgy stepped into the tub and sat down. The head of his cock floated to the surface and Adeline's tits broke out in a sweat.
"It's hot," he said.
"So am I," Adeline said.
"Huh?"
"Nothing. Get your hair wet and I'll shampoo it for you."
Adeline got down on her knees outside the tub and shampooed Georgy's hair. As he watched her round-bodied pendulous tits swing back and forth before his face his prick lengthened even more, got a little thicker, and in a few minutes was standing up out of the water like a periscope. With a full erection, believe it or not, the thing was just a shade under five and a half inches. Hell, I've been lucked silly by full-grown men with no more than that! Adeline hadn't even touched it yet but the sight of it alone had her cunt dripping down her legs.
"You like my tits?" she said, almost panting already.
Georgy blushed and grinned sheepishly. "Yeah," he giggled.
Adeline leaned toward him, cupped one of her tits in her hand and help it up to his mouth. "Wanta suck?"
Georgy looked at the tit, swallowed, and looked up into Adeline's face. "Can I?" he asked.
For an answer Adeline poked her nipple into his mouth and slid her hand down his skinny little belly to his crotch. His balls felt neat under water. Solid and weightless. The taut scrotum was the size of a healthy walnut and had about the same surface texture. When she eased a finger down into the crack of his ass he gave a little start.
"Ouch!" Adeline said.
"Huh?"
"You bit my nipple."
"Oh. Sorry."
Adeline giggled. "That's okay. Hey, why don't I get in there with you? This is kinda hard on the knees."
Georgy said, "Okay," and Adeline climbed into the tub.
She scrubbed his little body from head to foot and got all the grime off him and ended up sitting behind him, straddle-legged, with her cunt-hair brushing his ass and her tits poking him in the back.
"Now, don't you feel better?" she said into his ear in a low throaty voice, pressing his hard little sausage between the palms of her soapy hands and sliding them up and down, skinning him back with her thumbs on the downstrokes. The thing was ramrod-stiff by now and Adeline just couldn't get over the size of it.
"Yeah," Georgy said. He was getting a little breathless now himself. "Are you a whore?"
"No," Adeline giggled, rubbing her swollen tits against his back. "Well. . . sort of, I guess."
"You gonna jack me off?"
"Of course not, you silly boy. I'm just washing your prick."
"Oh."
"You sure have a big one. My goodness."
"Pop says it runs in the family."
"Oh, really?" Adeline said, and she added under her breath: "How'd ya like to run it up my cunt?"
"What?"
"Nothing. Anyway, there are much better things to do with it than that."
"Than what?"
"Jack it off."
"Oh," Georgy said, and after a minute: "Like what?"
"Well," Adeline said with a mischievous smile, "like, for instance . . ."
Meanwhile, Rose was dashing around the suite dusting everything and putting fresh sheets on the bed and so forth, and Aunt Maggie was pacing back and forth in front of the window in her office like a tiger in a cage. She was watching the street, her eyes peeled for Mrs. M.'s limousine. It was already about ten thirty-five and Mrs. M. said she'd be there at ten thirty. Maybe she'd decided not to make it after all. These goddamn rich broads, you never knew what they were going to do next. Upstairs, we were having a great time on Aunt Maggie's waterbed, and nobody knew what was going on in the bathroom of the Bridal Suite. But everybody was about to find out.
We-that is, the crew of the waterbed-might never have noticed at all if it hadn't been for Oscar's little boy. It seems the barfly had finally passed out from exhaustion and Teddy had been able to slip out. In the hall he met his brother and said, "Hi, Roy. What'cha doin'?"
"Helpin' Dad with the TV," Roy said with a tired sigh.
"Think it'll work this time?" Teddy asked. "Shit, no," Roy said. "But we gotta humor him."
"Yeah. Where's Patty?"
"She's in Aunt Maggie's room watchin' the monitor in there."
But of course Patty wasn't watching the monitor at all. If she had been, there'd have had to be something wrong with her. I mean, what healthy young chick is going to sit around watching a blank TV screen with a cock like George's in the room?
Except that it wasn't blank any more.
We had sort of a daisy chain going on the bed. George was flat on his back, Patty was on her hands and knees between his legs and I was sitting on his face. Not "sitting" exactly, I was on my knees, facing Patty, and he was eating my cunt while Patty and I took turns sucking his gigantic cock which stood up between us like a bazooka shell. Stanley was lying face-up behind Patty with his head between her thighs, slurping noisily in her pussy, and his mama was on all-fours, facing the other way, her ass up against Patty's, sucking Stanley's prick and balls and tonguing his asshole. From time to time Stanley would switch to Betsy's cunt, and sometimes he would eat her and Patty at the same time, with long swipes of his little tongue, from the upper corner of Betsy's slit to the upper corner of Patty's as if they were one big cunt with a clit at each end and two holes in the middle, if you can dig that. Jack was in it, too-or at least he was trying to get in it. He was on his knees behind me, pawing my tits and trying to stick his prick up my asshole-which wasn't too easy with George down there eating my cunt. George's forehead kept bashing Jack in the nuts, and besides, Jack hadn't quite got his hard-on back yet and his prick was still a little too limp for asshole fucking.
Anyway, that's what we were doing when Teddy walked in and said, "Hey, look!"
I looked at him out of the comer of my eye and saw him standing there with his mouth open, pointing at the wall behind me. I slid my mouth off George's cock and looked over my shoulder in the direction he was pointing.
"Well, I'll be goddamned!" I said, and then the others looked, too, and said similar words of surprise.
The big TV screen was on, in full, brilliant color, clear as a bell. Even the sound was on. And this time it wasn't George McGovern.
The view was from directly above a bathtub and in the bathtub was a full-breasted broad-assed woman and a small skinny shaggy-headed boy with a prick the size of a hot dog. The woman was sitting cross-legged, supporting the little boy's ass with her hands. He had his knees hooked over her shoulders and she was licking his prick and balls with catlike strokes of her drooling tongue. The kid's face was all but submerged in the soapy water and he was hanging onto the sides of the tub for dear life. You could hear the sloshing of the water and even the sound of their breathing.
As the woman unhooked the boy's legs from her shoulders and laid him out in the tub, Betsy said, "Say, isn't that-?" and then Jack said: "Hey! That's my mom!"
"By God, it is!" I said, and by God it was.
As Adeline squatted over little Georgy's hips, dangling her tits in his face and reaching between her legs, Patty said, "I don't think she's supposed to be doing that, is she?"
Somebody else started to say something but just then a loud shriek rang out from somewhere downstairs. To explain the shriek, I'll have to back up a minute or two to the moment the monitor came on in Aunt Maggie's office. As chance would have it, this moment coincided exactly with the moment Mrs. M.'s limousine pulled up in front of the hotel.
"She's here!" Maggie cried. "She's-!" And then she heard the sound of sloshing water behind her.
The first thing that sprang into Maggie's head was that Oscar, having destroyed her office once by fire, had decided to do it by water this time, thus reversing the Biblical sequence. Even if this had been the case, she could hardly have been less alarmed than she was when she spun around and saw Adeline in that tub with little Georgy's prick in her mouth.
"Holy shit!" she gasped and lunged toward the office door.
Just at that moment the door flew open and Oscar came leaping in with a shit-eating grin of triumphant and ecstatic delight spread across his face from ear to ear. That is, he would have come leaping in if it hadn't been for Maggie.
"It works!" he cried. "I did it! I actually- Hey, wha-!"
Then he yelled and that was the shriek we heard upstairs. But the shriek didn't help him any. Maggie ran right over him like a freight train.
When Mrs. M. and her limousine driver walked in a minute later the lobby looked deserted. Then, as he was setting Mrs. M.'s suitcase down, the driver spotted Oscar stretched out on the floor behind the desk with the heel print of a high-heeled shoe in the middle of his forehead. He pointed this out to Mrs. M.
"My goodness!" she said. "Is he alive?"
The driver checked and said, "I guess he is, ma'am. His heart's beatin'."
"Thank heavens," said Mrs. M., but she didn't seem very concerned about the body. "Well, that will be all, Henry."
"You sure you want me to leave ya by yourself in this place, Mrs. M?" the driver asked.
"Ill be quite all right, Henry," said Mrs. M. "You run along now, and I'll see you in the morning."
Henry shrugged, said, "Whatever you say, ma'am," and left.
Beverly saw this part of it from upstairs. Hearing Oscar's scream and the following crash, she had got out from under her man and run to the door as quick as she could to see what had happened. She'd heard that Mrs. M. was coming tonight and she figured that was her down there but she didn't know what to do about it. She might have figured something out if it hadn't been for the bowling team that was still waiting outside my room. (I'd forgotten all about them.) By that time they were so horny they were about to start fucking each other, and when they saw Beverly standing there naked in her doorway they didn't wait for an invitation. "It was like a stampede," Beverly said later. "I mean, I've been gang-banged before, but holy shit! They musta thought that guy in my bed was a chick 'cause they raped him, too." These Friday night bowlers are something else.
So anyway, I don't know what Mrs. M. did in the lobby after that-probably just stood there at the desk ringing the bell. Meanwhile, Aunt Maggie had charged into the Bridal Suite like a wounded rhino, yelling, "Stop her! Stop her!"
"Stop who?" Rose cried. Luckily she was faster than Oscar and side-stepped in time to keep from being trampled.
Maggie stormed into the bathroom just as Adeline was guiding Georgy's cock into her cunt.
"Stop that, you idiot!" she roared, her big boobs tumbling out of her dress as she bent over the tub and grabbed Georgy under the arms. "What the fuck are you tryin' to do, ruin me?"
We saw this part of it on the TV. SHLOOP!-the skinny kid was jerked out from between Adeline's legs like a Tampax. We also saw the startled look on Adeline's face as she realized what she'd almost done.
"Oh, dear!" she said, putting her hand to her cheek. "I-I didn't mean to-"
"You didn't mean to!" Maggie bellowed, almost blowing out the speakers. " 'Course you didn't! And you just can't figure out how in the world this boy's prick could have got into your cunt, right?"
"But-"
"But! But! Just get your butt the hell outta here, willya?"
"Yes, yes!" Adeline said, stumbling out of the tub.
And with the bewildered little boy clutched to her naked tits, Aunt Maggie wheeled around and collided with Rose, who was standing in the doorway, knocking her breath out. It knocked Georgy's breath out, too, and . . .
But enough of this comedy. By now, in spite of the seriousness of the situation, we were laughing so hard that the waterbed was rocking more violently than when we'd been doing our daisy chain. There was something about seeing it on television that probably made it seem more hilarious than it was. It was like an X-rated Three Stooges movie.
Anyway, Maggie finally came rushing down the stairs, trying to stuff her wildly plunging tits back into her soaking wet dress, and there was Mrs. M., waiting patiently at the desk.
Making a desperate attempt to compose herself, Maggie stepped over the body on the floor as though it were some permanent part of the furnishings and said, "Ah-Mrs. M?"
"Yes," said the round-faced woman, smiling politely. She was short and rather heavy-set, about sixty or older, plainly dressed-just the opposite of the dykelike broad from Palm Beach. She looked for all the world like your grandmother who bakes apple pies for you when you go to visit her at Christmas time. "And you're Mrs. McDonald?"
"Miss McDonald," Maggie said. "But why don't you just call me Maggie."
"Oh, very well," said Mrs. M. with a grandmotherly smile, her little eyes twinkling over the tops of her spectacles. "Ah ... is everything all right, Maggie?"
"Oh, yes, everything's-uh-just fine," Maggie said. "Ha, ha, ha! . . . Uh,"-she cleared her throat and leaned across the desk toward the woman-"I hope you'll excuse this, uh, confusion, Mrs. M. You see, I wanted everything to be, shall we say, just right for you, and on such short notice it wasn't easy to . . . well, what I mean is, Mrs. M., a virgin's not easy to come by these days and-"
"A virgin!?"
For a moment there Maggie had a horrible sinking feeling in her stomach, as if she were in an elevator that had suddenly snapped its cable. Had she gotten the whole thing wrong? Was this just a kindly old lady who really did enjoy taking care of children? Was it all just one gigantic misunderstanding?
Maggie turned white as a sheet and for a moment that seemed to last an hour the two women just stood there staring at each other with their mouths open.
Then Mrs. M. said, "Do you mean to say the boy you've fixed me up with is a virgin?!"
Maggie breathed a sigh of indescribable relief and said, "Yes, ma'am-but of course if you'd rather have a more experienced-"
"Oh, my goodness, no!" Mrs. M. whispered excitedly, gripping Maggie's trembling hand and pressing it warmly. "It's just that I wasn't expecting such a treat! Why, you wouldn't believe how long it's been since I've copped a cherry!" And then she giggled mischievously at herself for using such unladylike language: "Hee, hee, hee, hee!"
Maggie joined in the giggling, then picked up Mrs. M.'s suitcases and led her upstairs, so that when Oscar finally came to he found himself alone in the lobby with the headache of his life.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Adeline came back, looking a little sheepish, and I decided to go out and see if I could do something to help. But as I was about to go out I spotted Aunt Maggie and Mrs. M. coming up the hall and I ducked back into the room. Things seemed to be more or less under control, and there was nothing on TV now except a bathtub full of dirty water and that wasn't very exciting, so we got our daisy chain hooked up again and had just picked up where we left off when Aunt Maggie came running in on her tiptoes, rubbing her hands together and grinning like an alligator shitting tangerines.
"We did it! We did it!" she squealed.
When I was a kid I saw some Walt Disney movie with elephants in it. Some of the elephants wore toe shoes and tutus and danced like ballerinas. Do you remember that movie? Well, that's what Aunt Maggie looks like when she runs on her tiptoes-like one of those elephant ballerinas.
Adeline pulled her tongue out of Teddy's asshole and started apologizing again but Aunt Maggie just said, "Forget it, forget it," and pirouetted over to a painting of a naked lady surrounded by little naked cherubs with hard-ons. The painting was hinged on the wall like a door and Maggie swung it back and started punching buttons on the control panel behind it.
A number of scenes in different rooms flashed across the TV screen in rapid succession. It was like flipping hurriedly through a dirty magazine. First we saw my kid Rick, poor thing, lying flat on his back, limp as a rag, while the barfly's friend squatted on his face, her head thrown back and her jellyfish tits flopping furiously up and down, frigging herself on his nose.
Then we saw my other boy and Rose's Stevie with the rich bitch from Palm Beach, but all you could see was a tangle of naked limbs on the bed. Then there was a shot of Beverly's room and the speakers erupted in a blast of grunts and groans. It sounded like a hog pen at slop time. You couldn't even see Beverly underneath all those bare-assed bowlers. Somebody on the bed was yelling, "Help! Help!" and Betsy said, "Hey, look at those guys on the bed. It looks like-" It was just a brief glimpse and the light in Bev's room was dim, but it did look like some guy was fucking another guy in the ass.
There were some other shots-one of Goldy's room and one of Mary's, both of them humping merrily away, plying their trade; one of the inside of Aunt Maggie's office with the office monitor showing the inside of Aunt Maggie's office with the office monitor showing the inside of Aunt Maggie's office and so on to infinity; one of Oscar sitting on the floor in the lobby with his hands on his head and his eyes closed (at which time Rose said, "What's the matter with Oscar?" and Maggie said, "Damned if I know," and pushed another button); and finally, one of a funny-looking little man standing in the midst of a surly-looking crowd. The little man was wearing thick glasses and saying, "Madame Chairman, Ohio passes."
"Ohio passes," said Madame Chairman with a sigh.
"Give us five more minutes."
"Shit!" Maggie said. "These buttons are all fucked up. You punch the Bridal Suite and you get 106. You punch 106 and you get 115. You punch 115 and you get the office. Punch the office and you get the fucking Convention. Jesus Christ."
"Well, at least it's workin'," Teddy said, defending his father. "Sort of."
Rose said, "Maggie, what was that scream I heard while I was in the Bridal Suite?"
"What scream?" Maggie said absently, and then her exuberance bubbled over again and she started clapping her hands with glee. "By God, we got it made now, girls and boys! Hey, you know what she said? Guess what she said!"
"What who said?" somebody asked.
"Mrs. M., Mrs. M! Who the hell do ya think? She said to me, 'Maggie,' she said, 'I surely appreciate this and I'm going to give you a little something extra for all the trouble you've gone to.' I about shit my pants! She said, 'Now, don't argue, I insist.' Hooo-wee! Do you know what 'A little something' means to a broad like that? We're on the way, kids! We're fuckin' on the way!"
And in a spontaneous expression of her delight she gave the control panel a tremendous slap with her open hand, hitting several buttons at once, and. the interior of the Bridal Suite bedroom appeared at last on the screen.
"Well, I'll be goddamned," Maggie said, backing away from the control panel. "Don't anybody touch it, now."
Mrs. M., wearing an old fashioned nightgown, a quilted housecoat and her spectacles, was sitting in an armchair beside the bed and little Georgy, wearing a pair of pajamas that fit him like a sack, was sitting on her lap. She was reading to him from a little paperback book: " '. .. and forcing it up into her as far as it would go. Those two wonderful little cocks jabbing into her with lightning-fast strokes, one in her cunt, the other in her ass, almost drove Lorna mad with pleasure. Her big, heavy tits, still slick with little boy juice, swung about wildly until Toby reached up and caught them in his chubby hands, and that almost pushed her over the top. She thought surely she would be the first to cum, but she wasn't.
" 'After helping Toby find the hole, Lorna had reached out to take Jerry's' "-Mrs. M. wet her finger and turned the page-" 'prick in her left hand and Willy's in her right. She had begun immediately to jack their taut little foreskins up and down, but had been careful not to go too fast, because her timing would have to be good if she were going to get three mouthfuls of cum out of this. But when Johnny and Toby had launched into their trip-hammer assault of her two fun-holes Mrs. M. looked up at Georgy over the tops of her spectacles and giggled. "Two fun-holes," she repeated. "Hee, hee, hee! This writer certainly had a way with words, doesn't she, Georgy?"
"A lady wrote that?" Georgy said.
"Oh, yes," said Mrs. M., showing Georgy the cover of the little yellow book. "She's one of my favorite authors. Gina Green is her name."
Everybody turned around and looked at me with their mouths hanging open. I said, "I'll be damned. I thought that sounded familiar."
Aunt Maggie almost freaked out altogether over that. She started jumping up and down and her tits bounced out of her dress again. "This cinches it!" she cried. "This cinches it! Wait'll she finds out we got the famous Gina Green livin' right here in the old Sago Hotel! Well have her eatin' out of our hands! Gina, baby!" She threw a bear hug on me and damn near squeezed the piss out of me.
Meanwhile, Mrs. M. read on (this was from my first book, Mama Balls Little Boys, and I found out later she had all my books): " '... felt his first shot squirt through her palm, Lorna let out a sort of breathless growl and made a dive for his crotch, his second round spurting into her open mouth from a distance of about six inches before her drooling lips closed over the discharging member.' "
"Dig..." Mrs. M. chuckled. "I have trouble with these sounds the people make in Gina Green's books. Would you like to try?" And she pointed out the place with her stubby forefinger.
Georgy squinted at the page for a minute and then started to read in a breathless but flat voice, without expression: " 'Dig, ihg, ihg. Ga, ga, ga.' "
"That was pretty good," said Mrs. M. (Actually it was lousy. It's supposed to be, like, "Ihg, ihg, ihg! Ga'.-ga'.-ga!-" Neither one of them could read worth a shit if you ask me.)
While Maggie's angel continued to read, her hand creeping along Georgy's thigh toward his crotch, a little bit at a time, Oscar came staggering into our room.
"Oscar!" Rose cried. "What happened to you?!"
"Oh, nothin' much," Oscar said, nodding toward Maggie and then squinting with pain. "She just stepped on my head, that's all."
Aunt Maggie gave him a puzzled look and said, "Who stepped on your head?"
"You did," Oscar said. "You and about fifteen football players, it feels like. O-o-o-h-h-h, my head."
"Oscar, what the fuck are you talkin' about?" Maggie said. Oscar stared at her for a minute and then went into a graphic description of how he was coming in to tell her he had the TV hooked up when she came at him like a mad bull, stiff-armed him and ran him down.
Maggie scratched one of her tits and stared into space for a minute. Then she said, "Oh, yeah, now I remember. Aw, shit, I'm sorry, honey. I was in sort of a hurry at the time and-"
"I believe it," Oscar said.
"Aw, come on, sugar, lemme make it up to ya. Hey, ya did it, didn't ya? Look at that picture! Listen to that sound! You're a genius! Shit, I knew ya could do it all the time. Come on down here on the floor and get outta those clothes, lover. Aunt Maggie's gonna fix you ri-i-i-i-ight up!-that is, if your cunt don't mind."
Rose laughed and said, "Go right ahead, Sis. I'm sort of tied up right now anyway." Eager to check out this new lady, young Jack had jerked Rose's skirt up and now he had both hands in her panties, one in the seat and the other in the crotch. That's what Rose meant about being tied up.
Aunt Maggie yanked her dress off, released her little half-cup cheesecloth bra, and dressed only in her high-heels, black mesh nylons and garter belt, her buxom body jiggling like a gigantic mound of milk custard, bore down on Oscar as if to engulf him like an amoeba.
"Go easy, Mag," Oscar said. "I feel like I been run over by a truck."
By now Mrs. M. was coming to the end of a chapter: " '.. . That burst of semen surging into her rectum was too much for Lorna, and with a wildcat shriek, she reached her climax, her whole body wracked with fire, little hands groping all over her, thick foam gushing from her cunt, flooding Toby's straining crotch-and then he began to cum too and her orgasm started all over again and her cunt erupted like a volcano and the moon and the lake and the trees all twisted and lurched in a whirling tangle of naked flesh-tits, arms, buttocks, groping hands, spurting pricks, a sea of virgin cum-and she cried, 'Oh, Billy! Billy! Billy!'"
Mrs. M. closed the book. Her hand was now in Georgy's crotch. "Billy was Lorna's little boy, you see," she said. (She made that up. Actually, Billy was Lorna's little brother-in case anybody gives a fuck.)
"Oh," said Georgy.
"Yes. You see, she'd always wanted to take him to bed but never had. Ill bet your mother never read you any bedtime stories like that one, did she?"
"I ain't got a mother," Georgy said. "I live with my old man."
"Oh, you poor thing! Well, I'll be your mother tonight-and other nights, too, perhaps. I had a little boy like you once, you know."
"Oh, yeah?"
Mrs. M. smiled and nodded in her grandmotherly way. "But now, when I say I 'had' him"-giggle, giggle-"I don't mean that I. . . that I. . ." She looked off to one side as if she had heard some strange sound, her fingers moving gingerly along the bulge in the front of Georgy's pajama bottoms. She seemed to get sort of flustered. "Well, what I mean is . . . You see, I was a bit like the lady in this book. My son and I. . . That is, I always wanted to love him a way that society doesn't... ah . . . doesn't..."
"You okay, ma'am?" Georgy asked.
It was perfectly obvious what was happening. Mrs. M. had been all prepared with this little speech about how she'd always wanted to fuck her kid but never had because she thought that wasn't a nice thing to do but now she had seen the light which was fine except that her son was grown up now and married and all and she was left alone, poor thing, and so forth and so on, all by way of softening Georgy up and excusing herself for what she was about to do. Probably she used that approach with all virgins. But when she felt the unlikely shape of that torpedo between Georgy's legs the whole thing must have gone right out of her head.
"Good heavens, child!" she exclaimed, unable to contain herself any longer. "What is this?!"
"You mean what you're feelin' of?" Georgy asked.
Mrs. M. just stared down at the shape, which was now sticking straight up inside the boy's pajamas like a tent pole.
"That's my prick," Georgy said.
She looked at him suspiciously over her spectacles. "You wouldn't play tricks on an old lady, would you, Georgy?"
"No, ma'am," Georgy said. "Wanta see it?"
"Heavens, yes!" Mrs. M. Gasped, her glasses nearly falling off her nose.
Georgy jumped up, jerked down his pajamas and stood there proudly with his five and a half inch cock slanting up from his scrawny belly, pointing right at the startled old lady's face like a stiff one-eyed snake.
"It runs in the family," he said.
"Why, bless your little hard-er, heart! Goodness gracious, I don't believe I've ever seen ..." She cleared her throat and tried to do one of her grandma smiles but this time it didn't come off too well. "Shall we, um, go to bed now, Georgy?"
"Okay," Georgy said. "Want me to take these off?"
"Yes, yes!" said Mrs. M., a little too eagerly.
So Georgy finished taking off the baggy pajamas and leaped merrily on to the bed-bounce, bounce-landing on his back, his stiff prick wagging to and fro like a metronome, bouncing off his balls at one end of the swing and his belly at the other and finally coming to a standing halt, snapping to attention like a Marine on the drill field.
Noticeably shaken, Mrs. M. clumsily removed her quilted housecoat and her bedroom slippers. Then she turned the light down low, almost knocking the lamp off the bedside table in the process, took off her glasses and stood there for a minute, gazing down at that quivering prick. Then she put her glasses back on.
Mrs. M. drew her old-fashioned nightie up around her broad hips and sat down on the bed beside the naked boy and patted his leg just the way you would expect an old lady to pat the leg of a little boy, except that even on TV, with the light dimmed, you could almost see her hand trembling. The old girl had just about perfected her technique over the years, but the sight of Georgy's improbable rod had given her such a jolt that she was having a hell of a time keeping her act together, you could tell that.
She said, "May I. . . May I touch it?"
And Georgy said, "Sure."
Mrs. M.'s hand slid across his bony hip and closed slowly around that rigid little pole. With the heel of her hand resting flat down on the root, the round-nosed head and a half an inch of the neck stuck up above the webbing of her thumb, and that's no shit.
"My goodness," she muttered. And then, staring down at the tiling in her hand-she looked like a slightly demented scientist holding a vial of nitroglycerine-she made one last attempt to salvage what was left of her script: "You see, ah, Georgy, my little boy and I, ah, we were never very close, and . . . and ..."
I'm not going to try to write out the sound that Mrs. M. made. It wasn't anything simple like "ihg" or "ga." All I can tell you is that it was something like the sound a half-starved female gorilla with laryngitis might make if you stuck a banana in her cage.
And all of a sudden she had Georgy's cock in her mouth, one hand thrust under his skinny little butt and the other pressed down on his scrawny chest, and her grandmotherly gray head was bobbing wildly above his crotch.
This startled the hell out of Georgy, who was ready but wasn't expecting a surprise attack, but he couldn't have been much more startled than we were. I mean, there was something about seeing a nice old lady like Mrs. M. sucking a cock like a lust-crazed fifteen-year-old nymphomaniac that just. . . But first I'd better tell you about the latest arrivals to our little "theater."
First Roy came in, saying, "I knew you could do it, Dad," and he jumped onto the waterbed with us and started slow-fucking his girlfriend dog style while she sucked George's bazooka and watched the TV screen. (Everybody in the room was playing with each other-some had their tongues or cocks or both in a cunt or a mouth or an asshole and there wasn't a cunt in the room that didn't have something in it, even if it was just a finger-but it was a leisurely sort of play and none of us were doing anything that would keep us from watching the screen.)
Oscar had replied to his son's congratulations with a muffled grunt because one of Aunt Maggie's tits was in his mouth at the time. She had started by squatting over him-as only Aunt Maggie can do, thanks to her training as a strip dancer-with her hands behind her head, and rubbed her shaggy crotch on his cock until it got hard, swinging her huge jugs from side to side, and then-her hands still behind her head, slipped her fat cunt over it and fucked him like that for a few minutes, bouncing up and down like one of those Russian dancers except she didn't kick her feet out in front of her like they do. Then she had turned around, squatted over his face, scrubbing his lips with her juicy cunt, bent over and sucked his slimy cock for a while. Then she turned around and squatted on him like she'd done the first time except this time she guided his cock into her asshole and, once it was in, lowered her boobs in his face, and that was when Roy came in. Oscar was just getting his rocks off when Stevie and my kid Mick came in.
They'd teamed up and managed to subdue the Palm Beach bitch, at least temporarily. Somebody asked them how they did it and Mick said, "We cheated a little." Stevie said, "Yeah. I fucked her with a wax banana while Mickie gave it to her in the ass with a Coke bottle."
"She passed out after that," Mick concluded.
They flopped down on the floor near Maggie and Oscar and had just started to ask questions about the kid and old lady on the TV when my other boy, Rick, staggered in, worn out from his first night's work but proud of himself for having outlasted the barfly's friend, even though, as he said, "I had to finish her off with my nose."
Right after that two of the younger whores, Mary and Goldy, came to see why nobody was watching the desk. Mary, who's nineteen and built like a brick shithouse, stuck her head in and said, "Hey, what's goin' on in here? How come nobody's . . . Hey, groovy! The TV's workin'. Hey, Goldy, the TV's workin'."
"No shit?" Goldy said and they both came in and made their way through the naked bodies to the bed, which must have been about to burst by then. I guess that's when George grabbed Mary but it was kind of confusing in there with all those people.
Altogether, there was Adeline and Jack; Rose and her two kids, Stevie and Patty; Betsy and little Stanley; Rick and Mick; Oscar's sons, Teddy and Roy: Oscar himself; George Hellow; the whores, Mary and Goldy; Aunt Maggie; and me. It's a good thing Beverly was tied up with that bowling team because I don't think we could have squeezed her in. That was-what?-six teen people packed in there. I mean, it's a big room but it's not an arena. Luckily, though, we were all good friends.
Anyhow, as I started to say, there was something about seeing Mrs. M. giving little Georgy a head-job that really got to us. It's hard to believe that in our fucked-out condition there could have been a stiff prick or clitoris in the room-unless it would be George's or Roy's-but I'm telling you, it was like instant rejuvenation.
The old girl hadn't given him a dozen strokes-and they were fast strokes, too-before I had a little prick in my asshole and another one wrapped around my tongue. It was Rick's prick, I could tell by the feel of it, but I don't know whose asshole I had my tongue in. It was some chick-Goldy or maybe Patty-but I never found out for sure.
Everybody was fucking or sucking somebody else, that's about all I can say. I did see old George when he jumped Mary-that is, I saw his cock, but you couldn't mistake that cock for anybody else's. It was silhouetted in front of the TV screen for a minute, just before it buried itself to the balls in Mary's twat, and it was just then that his little boy shot his wad.
"Ah!" Georgy cried. "Ah, ah, ah!" And you could see old Grandma M. sucking for all she was worth.
When the kid finally went limp, gasping for air, she-and this was just too much-she reared up, clutched her boobs with both hands, threw her head back and started gargling with his cum, as though it were a mouthwash. Yeah, she actually gargled it! Loud, too. Garglegarglegargle! I never saw anything like it.
Then somebody said, "Whoops!" and some kid shot off in my face-got me right in the eye. I think what happened was that Rose was sucking off her son and trying to watch the TV out of the corner of her eye, and when Mrs. M. started gargling she probably went a little too high on an upstroke and let Stevie's prick flip out of her mouth just as he got his gun. That would explain why she said, "Whoops!'--if it was her that said it. Anyway, I missed the next few minutes of the show and when I finally got the cum out of my eye little Georgy was pulling off Granny's nightie.
She was on top of him and he had it up to her armpits. There was some floundering around and together they finally managed to drag it off over her head. Maybe it was just the smell of cunt and cock and the general orgiastic atmosphere there in Aunt Maggie's crowded room, but that got me even hotter than I already was.
Now, don't get the wrong idea. Mrs. M. will never see sixty again and her bod's not all that exciting. Her big boobs have stretch marks on them and they're going slack on her; her arms and thighs are a little flabby and her waistline has gotten out of control; she's got blue veins showing in her legs and her big ass has dents in it; her wiry bush has gray hairs in it and her cuntlips are sort of saggy. But-I don't know-for an old lady she's not that bad. I mean, not gross or anything, and seeing her naked up against that skinny little virgin . . . Well, I mean, how many naked old ladies do you see running around in the first place? You don't have to go very far these days to see a naked chick, skinny-dipping or what have you-but bare-assed old ladies? Forget it. And seeing one in bed with a naked little boy is even more unusual. I think maybe that's what got me so turned on-the novelty of it. If you think I'm weird, fuck you.
To everybody's surprise, it didn't take Georgy very long at all to raise another hard-on. Mrs. M. apparently turned him on, too. (She must have been something else thirty years ago.) She made a big thing out of putting him in. We had a pretty good view of this because the hidden camera was at the head of the bed, about half-way up the wall, and that was the direction she was facing. She was on her knees, straddling him, and she took his amazing prick in both hands, holding it with her thumbs and fingertips, and bent over where she could watch as she pushed the slim head back and forth along her dripping gash, using it to spread the limp curls out of the way, and then stirring herself with it, just inside her outer lips, and drooling on Georgy's belly as she saw her cunt juice dribbling down his cock and onto his balls.
"Wanta fuck Mama, Georgy?" she panted, the split running down her chin and her big prunelike nipples quivering like tuning forks.
"Uh-huh!" Georgy gasped.
And then she started sliding down his pole like a fireman in slow-motion.
"O-o-o-o-h-h-h-h!" she moaned, watching it go in.
I started cumming about then, and I wasn't the only one, either. So I saw the fuck that followed through an orgasmic blur, so to speak, which made Mrs. M.'s tits seem to flop even more violently than they possibly could have as she bounced frantically up and down on little Georgy's hips. I started to come down and heard Mrs. M. grunting and growling and I could tell by the frothy goo that was gushing from her cunt that she was getting off-but then I lost track of the action again because one of those afterburner orgasms cut loose on me.
My first orgasm-or the first part of my orgasm or whatever you want to call it-was caused by Rick's prick in my asshole. But he had his hand in my cunt, too-or somebody did-and the second part started when he grabbed my clit and squeezed it. I felt like I was going to come apart, and right in the middle of it some soft little belly-it turned out to be Stanley's-flattened against my face and he pumped a load of hot cum down my throat. I didn't even know how his prick got into my mouth. He says I grabbed him, jerking his prick out of his mother's cunt, and put it there-in my mouth-but I don't remember any of that.
When I was finally able to look at the TV again, I got one brief flash of Mrs. M. sprawled out on top of Georgy, heaving and wheezing like a beached whale, and then there was a lady standing at a podium, reading into a microphone: "...and that a woman should have legal jurisdiction over the sexual and physical functions of her own body. ..."
Everybody swears they never touched the control panel, but I think somebody's ass must have bumped up against it in the heat of an orgasm or something.
Well-"b-b-be, b-b-be, b-b--that's all folks!"-or however Porky Pig does it as he disappears inside that circle.
