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Danny Does Mom
All stories on this web site are purely FICTIONAL. The people depicted within these stories only exist in someone's IMAGINATION. Any resemblence between anyone depicted in these stories and any real person, living or dead, is an incredible COINCIDENCE too bizarre to be believed. If you think that you or someone you know is depicted in one of these stories it's only because you're a twisted perverted little fucker who sees conspiracies and plots where none exist. You probably suspect that your own MOTHER had sex with ALIENS and COWS and stuff. Well, she didn't. It's all in your head. Now take your tranquilizers and RELAX.
WARNING!
The following story contains detailed descriptions of sex acts between
family members (incest), and between humans and animals (bestiality).
If you are offended by such material, please stop reading now!
<< Danny Does Mom / Part 1 >>
Chapter 1
Helen Fredericson's auburn hair, piled high in a French twist,
accentuated her creamy complexion and the shimmer of her emerald-green
eyes. The stark white of a high-necked hostess gown revealed a size thirty-
seven bust line that even a severe bra failed to confine and the firm
curvature of size thirty-six hips; the effect was to give her five-foot-six-
inch figure a regal appearance that was reinforced by her grace and
composure. She busied herself straightening up evidence of company,
emptying ashtrays, wiping away rings left by glasses, and smoothing
wrinkled cushions.
Art Fredericson hovered over his wife, hands deep-thrust into his
pockets, lips compressed, and weight shifting from one foot to the other.
His gaze wandered over her body, drawn by each movement of a muscle, and
he continually wetted his lips with his tongue tip. His sun-bleached hair
was tousled, and it seemed natural above a face roughened by years of
exposure to the weather and eyes whose blue had faded in the wind. His lean
six-one frame saved him from looking short in contrast to his wife's height,
and he had an aura of suppressed explosiveness about him.
Helen brushed past her husband and bent to wipe a spot from a corner
of the coffee table. Art's hand came out of his pocket to caress her ass. She
jerked whirled to face him, angry red spots flaming over her cheekbones.
"Art! For God's sake!"
"Sorry." Art mumbled and returned his hand to his pocket.
Helen doubted that. "After all, there's a time and a place for
everything! Honestly! I think you're getting as bad as Barry."
"Sure, sure. Dirty old man."
"Don't be sarcastic. He is. I don't know why Van lets him get away
with it." Vanessa Rush was the closest friend Helen had - they'd been like
sister's since high school days - but Helen disapproved of Van's permissive
attitude. 'Letting him look at other women the way he does!' she thought.
'And giggling and simpering when he feels her up - right out in public! Ugh!
Grandma would have a word for it; she'd have called Van a "strumpet"!'
"Shit! He's only thirty-one. How can he be a dirty old man? And she
lets him because it's natural and she likes it!"
"That's right. When you can't think how to get out of it, use bad
language." She moved out of Art's reach and continued her work.
"At least I live in the real world. Christ, Helen, sex isn't a disease!"
Art sounded quietly desperate. "Nothing dirty about it, except what you
make it in your mind."
"Art Fredericson! Blame it all on me! Grandma would have said . . . "
"GRANDMA, HORSESHIT! Goddamned prude! I never will know how come
your old man couldn't walk on water after that immaculate conception!"
"Art! How dare you!"
He grumbled and subsided. Helen finished the coffee table and turned
to the last end table. Suddenly she felt Art's hand slide up the inner slope
of her thigh. She clamped her knees together and struck at his arm.
"Damn it! You want Danny to see something like that?" She blazed at
her husband.
"Do him good. His age, he ought to start learning."
"Oh! So I've neglected his education!"
"No! He gets the theory in those school courses! But you've sure
warped it! Hell, a kid ought to know a pat on the fanny is a sign of
affection!"
"Sign of affection! Just lewd, that's what! He saw enough of that
between Barry and Van tonight!"
Art chuckled. "And wondered how it would be to try it on that hot-
eyed kid sister of Van's! See the way he kept sizing her up?"
"Terrible! That's what I mean! And Olga actually flirted!"
"Like with a ten-year-old. That chick isn't going to break in a
fifteen-year-old.'
"She's a tramp!" Helen glanced about the room to see if she'd missed
any spot of disorder. "He's more mature than any of the boy's she's dated
here."
"Carries himself like a man, all right. She may be overlooking an
experience!"
"Oh, Art, don't always be dirty-minded!"
"Okay, okay. Come on, baby, let's go to bed. The house can wait."
"A lot you care! You don't have to face it in the morning. You just go
off to work and let me worry about it."
"And you do. Twenty-four hours a day."
She stiffened. "I have to do something to take my mind off how
grouchy you've gotten!"
"Who the hell wouldn't be grouchy? Takes a national holiday around
here for a guy to get a piece of ass! And then its like reading the
Declaration of Independence through bulletproof glass!"
"Art fredericson! You're mean and crude! Go on in, I'll be there in a
minute.
She clenched her fists as she watched her husband go into the hallway.
She hated these scenes and had a knot in her belly that kept getting larger
as the scenes became more frequent. Her grandmother had warned her, long
before she was old enough to understand.
"Selfish, flesh-loving beasts, all of them," the old lady had said often.
"Even your father, dear thing.'
And while Helen's parents had fun and went places, her paternal
grandmother had stuck top the dreadful task of reshaping a lustful, filthy-
minded child into a civilized girl. Helen knew that's what old Mrs. Farrell
had done. Hadn't she been told often enough? She'd rebelled, she
remembered. She'd played with herself and spied on her father, filled with
wonder at that enormous cock of his, and made up fantastic stories in her
mind about relations with all the boys she knew. 'Yes', she thought 'Grandma
had a real challenge. She'd been losing it, too, until that wilderness trip
with the Indian guide.
"Not that he made the difference." she muttered bitterly to herself.
"But what it did to Grandma."
Even Helen's mother had agreed Grandma Farrell's death - her massive
stroke - had come as a direct result of Helen's pregnancy. And Helen had
never lost the black worm of guilt over the fact she'd regretted those hours
with Tony, the guide, only for her grandmother's death - not for the mortal
sin she, herself had committed with him. That personal lust - that terrible,
conscience-deadening pleasure - had burned into her the truth of what her
grandmother had steadfastly maintained.
"You're your mother all over again," her grandmother had said darkly,
over and over. "No shame. No moral fiber. You'll never be a Farrell."
And on the old lady's abrupt death, Helen had realized that she really
loved her grandmother. She'd resolved in that moment - fully aware of the
insatiable sex-hunger in her - that she would atone to her grandmother by
becoming what the Victorian woman had wanted. She buried the hot-pussied
self and built instead a poised, frigid shell. She'd done it well, she
reminded herself now. Well enough that she'd kept Danny on the right track;
well enough that she'd never let herself progress to an orgasm since that
summer in the woods. Her grandmother must be proud, looking down from heaven
on the granddaughter she'd given up for hopeless.
Helen hurried to the bedroom. She had time to get into her nightgown
and into bed before Art finished in the bathroom. And there were moments
to recall that summer. There had been a lake and a camp and Tony - he'd had
a name even her father couldn't pronounce, so they'd nicknamed him tony -
had gone to scout trail for the next day's move. Helen had gone for a lone
hike, then turned back because of a bear. And she's heard her mother's
squeal and her father's carefree, eager laugh.
"Abe! That tickles! Behave yourself!"
"Behave myself! When I can have my nooky in this setting?"
"Your language!"
"Fraud! Get my hand on that snatch and your language will make me
blush!"
"Nooky! . .. Pussy!" Helen whispered from where she now hid in the
brush. They were delightful, tingle-producing words. If she crept only a few
feet further, she might - just might - get to watch them fuck.
"Wait'll I catch you!" she heard her father say happily.
There was a sound of snapping twigs and rustling underbrush. Helen's
mother burst into view and stumbled. Convenient to be in the middle of a
clearing, thought Helen with a shiver. And her father overtook his wife
there. He pulled her to her feet and crushed her to him, his knee pressed to
her pussy and his hand kneading her ass. Helen felt her own young pussy
glow as she watched the willing redhead who was her mother writhe in the
hot embrace was a low moan of pleasure.
"Honey! Honey! Oh, I want it so!"
They fell to the dark earth, rolling over each other and grabbing at
each other. Without Helen seeing how, her mother's halter came off and lay
crumpled under them. Abe pinned Ruth beneath him, his mouth gulping at her
breast and his hand diving into her shorts. His wife groped at his trouser
fly, fumbling at the zipper and finally pulling out his cock.
Helen writhed. She twisted her legs until her weight bore on one heel,
through her pussy, and she clutched her breasts in her hands, squeezing and
massaging. Watching was better than all her dreams put together, she
decided. Only having the experience, herself, could be better. She gasped and
held her breath. Her father was pulling her mother's shorts - and her
panties, if she had any on - over her hips. Ruth had her ass off the ground
and squirmed to help him, but she refused to let go of the reddening cock.
Abe lifted his wife's feet as he drew off her shorts, raising her legs
vertically and dropping one hand to prod at her twat. Ruth squealed and
twisted, pulling herself up until she could mouth the moist cockhead that
peeked out of her hand.
"Oh!" whispered Helen. "Oh, how delicious! I wonder how it really
tastes?" The joints of her jaw tensed as if she's just eaten a sour pickle
and her hands fumbled at the waist of her sweater, then slipped inside, up
to her bra and under it to cup the hot flesh of her girlish breasts.
Abe straightened, tugging at his clothes while his wife gnawed at his
prick. her hair flamed in a ray of sunlight, a gleaming halo against the
background of her husband's white belly and thick, black body hair. She sat
with her knees up and her feet widely parted, her pussy a shimmering, wet
cleft of pink between parallel thickets of carrot-colored pubic hair. Helen
groaned inwardly with envy as she compared the swollen, parted slopes
with her vivid recollection of her own thin cuntlips. 'Someday!' she thought.
'Someday I'll have a pussy like that! And a cock like that to kiss!'
But she imagined she heard her grandmother's acid tone in the
distance. "Dirty-minded little girl! Shameless as your mother! The Devil's
own child!" Helen shook her head impatiently - the old woman was two
thousand miles away, and a man named Abe Farrell was getting ready to
fuck a woman named Ruth right in front of his daughter. And Ruth was
sensitizing his cock with her mouth, savoring its maleness before engulfing
it in her pussy.
Somehow, Helen's mother scrambled to her knees when Abe stood up to
kick off his pants. And she kept his cockhead in her mouth and cradled his
balls in her hand. he laughed and laid his fingers on her temples.
"God, woman! You're something else today! Have a heart!"
Ruth spit out her meaty mouthful and tilted her head back, eyes
dancing as she gazed up at him. "It's you," she said. "I go wild, wanting you
so much!"
He sank to his knees, his cock trapped between their bellies and her
breasts spreading and flattening against his chest. He seized her asscheeks,
rolling them in his fingers, pressing them together to close her crack,
parting them to expose the pink pucker of her asshole. Ruth slipped her arms
over his shoulders and pulled at his flesh with her fingers.
"Darling," she said softly. "Oh, Abe darling! I do love you!" She
squirmed, her hips thrust forward so her belly pressed hard against his.
"Especially with your prick in my belly button!"
Abe fingered the crack of her ass. His eyes closed momentarily and he
blew into his wife's hair. "If it were big enough, you'd train that belly
button to suck me off, wouldn't you?"
"Oh, honey!" Ruth protested laughingly.
Her husband forced his knee between her thighs and raised it, lifting
her from her knees and planting his foot on the ground. Ruth twisted, raising
herself until she positioned her twat above his dick. She began to lower
herself, her hips undulating as her cunt settled around his cockhead. She
clenched her teeth in concentration, her gaze fixed steadily on Abe's face.
"Unh . . . unh . . . " Her exclamations were low-voiced and tentative,
spaced as if each were a false expectation of reaching the root of the cock
she was sliding onto. And then explosively - "UNH! Ahhh!" - she flung her
arms around him and began nuzzling his neck, biting and releasing and biting
again. Abe squirmed, laughing, and retaliated.
Helen's eyes widened. She withdrew one hand from her breast and
touched her neck and shoulders, pretending someone was giving her "love
bites". She shivered deliciously.
Her mother's boob formed a bride between her straining body and her
husband's, the darkened nipples prodding his chest and burying themselves
in the curls of his body hair. She sat on the back of one thigh and an
asscheek, her other knee hanging toward the ground, and jacked her hips
violently. Abe held one palm at the small of his wife's back and massaged
her ass with the other. His fingers slid along her crack and her buttocks
winked. Both bodies writhed, tense and eager, and Ruth's skin began to
gleam with perspiration.
Helen trembled. "Ooh! Ooh, she likes that!" she whispered, gazing
wide-eyed at her father's fingers as they caressed her mother's ass. She
inched forward on her heel, bearing down with her anus on the rounded, bony
little foot. She winked her ass the way her mother was doing, biting her lips
at the sensation and groping at her pussy with her hand. She paused,
clutching herself tightly and bending forward to see better; her parents
were starting to do something else.
Ruth fell back, clinging to Abe's shoulders. She stared into his face,
her eyes looking strangely sleepy. Her mouth was wet and red, and her
nostrils flared. She tossed her head and her hair broke free of its pins. The
French twist disintegrated to a cloud of tumbling red about her shoulders.
"Darling!" Her voice was husky. "Roll me! Roll me in the dirt! Oh,
God, I feel great! I feel like we're a couple of animals rutting! Please,baby!'
Abe panted. His mouth was open and working, and his fingers kneaded
her flesh spasmodically. He twisted and fell backward, keeping his wife
impaled on his cock and rolling with her as her hit the soft, moist earth.
Ruth's legs parted widely and she gouged into the leafmold with her heels,
kicking vigorously. Together they rolled across the clearing, sweet-smelling
earth flying and bits of black debris clinging to their bodies. Their legs and
arms tangled and they bit at each other. Their breaths whistled, its cadence
punctuated by low grunts of pleasure.
Helen writhed with desire. She twisted her fist among the inflamed
tissues of her pussy and bit the back of her other hand to smother the
continuous whimper that welled in her throat. Oh, yes! she thought. Oh, yes!
This is the way it ought to be! Naked and rolling free! It might be sinful,
like Grandma says, but nothing could be more wonderful! I'm going to be like
Mama . . . and I want to!
Abe's fingers dug into the pink and white flesh of his wife's ass,
parting her cheeks and stabbing at her anus, his teeth tugging at her nipples
while she thrashed beneath him. She ground the back of her head against the
earth, her eyes bulging and her teeth clenched. Then she opened her mouth
widely.
"Abe! Ride me, darling! Ride me for real!"
"For real?" There was a note of sudden eagerness in Abe's question.
"Ruth hesitated momentarily. "All right," she said then. "But quick,
darling! Now!" She rolled abruptly onto her belly and pushed herself to her
hands and knees.
As if impatient, Abe caught her at the waist and lifted until his wife
stood stiff-legged, her feet widespread, her body bent at the hips and her
palms flat on the ground. He edged his knees between her taut thighs and
crouched, pushing the head of his cock down so that it nestled in the
depression of her cunt. He pushed forward with his hips, lodging the
cockhead securely in place, and grasped his wife's hips.
"Mm! Mm!" Ruth grunted. "Put it in, darling! Quick!"
Helen felt a curious churning in her belly. She writhed silently while
her father pressed forward and the brutal cockhead buried itself in the dark
pink flesh. "Oooh!" se moaned silently.
"Oh! . . . Oh! . . . " Ruth gasped. "Hard, Abe! HARD!"
Abe jammed his hips forward and the thick shaft plunged into her. His
hairy belly bumped her ass and his fingers dug into the roundness of her
hips. He hitched himself over her, his cock bending at the root, and raised
his feet from the ground, hooking his insteps behind his wife's knees. She
sagged for a moment, then stiffened her knees.
"Oh, God, darling!" she exclaimed hoarsely. "God, he's deep!"
Abe levered his knees, stroking his great prick in the mouth of his
wife's pussy. She bounced, her knees flexing under his surges. Her breasts
flopped and her hair tumbled over her arms.
Animals! thought Helen with a happy thrill. They're like animals that
belong here! Wonderful-awful animals that look like people! Her blood
pounded too hard for her to get her breath. Her own young pussy pulsed at
every blow of her father's cock in her mother's upturned cunt and her boobs
ached. She ground her thighs together, glorying in the sticky wetness that
spread over them.
Abe bent forward, his belly molding itself to his wife's ass and his
hands gripping her waist. His buttocks jerked powerfully while his balls
thumped against Ruth's pubic hair. Helen shivered and gulped at the contrast
between her mother's finely tapered legs and the humping bulk they
supported. She tried desperately to imagine herself in the same position
sagging under the same burden.
"Abe! Abe!" Ruth cried out. "Only one thing wrong with this way . . . my
boobies ache and you can't hang onto them! Oh, darling, hard!"
"UNNNH!" Abe's lips drew back to reveal his clenched teeth. His
buttocks snapped together and his back straightened, throwing all his
weight on his buried cock. He stopped thrusting and bore down with silent
convulsions of his belly.
The couple trembled fiercely, Ruth's hips swaying in slow, grinding
circles as she appeared to rotate on the base of the deep-thrust cock.
"Mmmm!" she groaned. "MMM, FUCK-FUCK-FUCK! BABY, BABY!"
With a final, violent shudder, her straining body seemed to melt. She
collapsed, Abe riding her to the ground, and the two huddled together, still
joined and twitching.
Helen fought an impulse to groan. She grovelled in the loose earth,
flattened herself on her belly, her fist in her pussy, and ground her hips on
the hard knuckles. She fought desperately with herself, her body trembling
on the verge of orgasm while her will demanded self-restraint until she
could get away by herself and act out the scene she'd witnessed. Fiber by
fiber, her body yielded to her determination, her tension easing and the iron
knot in her belly loosening. She squirmed backward through the low-hanging
brush, terror rising when Ruth and Abe stirred, and relief making her weak
when she was at last safe beyond their sight. She sprang to her feet and
bounded between the trees, hot desire tearing at her.
With a sob of gratitude, she stumbled into a pocket in the woods Tony
had shown her, where one could lie quietly and watch a family of squirrels
argue over pine cones or a heedless rabbit forage. The spruce stood apart
and a thicket of low firs trailed their boughs to the ground, shutting out the
world. Going to the center of the tiny clearing, she set her feet apart and
drew herself erect. After a moment she arched her back and stared at the
narrow patch of sky, her hands clutching at her breasts, then passing over
her belly with hard pressure and stopping at the tops of her thighs.
"Now!" she said softly. "Now, Helen Farrell!"
She unbuttoned her blouse, laying it open with her back still arched
and her breasts pointed defiantly toward the treetops. Extending her hands
behind her, she let the blouse slide off her fingertips to the ground. She
trembled in her effort to maintain her pose while unfastening her bra, then
drew it off and dropped it, fingering her conical boobs and plucking at the
quivering, hard little nipples. A great tingle surged over her, doubling her
with its intensity, and she fumbled at her slacks, her hands clumsy on the
button and too eager with the zipper. She thrust them off her hips and
dropped panting to the earth while she struggled to draw them over her
boots. The boots had to stay on; they would add a measure of sensuous
contrast to what she meant to do. In a frenzy of haste he tore away her
panties, leaving until another time the problem of explaining their loss.
Again, she assumed her "sky-worshipping" stance, her small red
triangle of pubic hair darker than her mother's and not yet covering as much
of her flesh, but thick and springy, nonetheless. Arched as she was, she
drew her belly into a taut, convex surface. Her navel stretched into a groove
and her pussy shook with the strain of her posture.
"Oooo! . . . Oooh!" She flung her arms up and back and let her head hang
back, with her hair falling free. "Mmmm!" Without changing her body's
alignment, she placed her hands on her pussy and pulled the wet lips apart.
Her fingertips explored her slit, lingering at her labia before slipping
forward to the raw little lump that generated such incredible sensations of
delight. Writhing and gasping, she played with her clitoris, whipping her
excitement back to the peak she'd felt during her parent's orgasm.
"Yes!" she exclaimed. "Yes, it's now! Now!"
She dropped to all fours, knees stiff and palms resting on the cool
earth, spreading her feet as widely as she could and imagining her father
was mounting her. She sagged, pretending his weight pressed her down, then
thrust one hand into her crotch to massage the gaping folds. For a time, she
teased herself, sliding her fingertips in the wetness on her pussy and
tracing rings around the rim of her cunt, but at last she yielded to her
feverish hunger and started to rub her clitoris.
"NNNG! . . . AGHHH!" Her hips jerked and her boobs bounced under her as
her excitement rocketed. "Oh, yes! Oh, God, yes!"
Something touched her hips. She stiffened and fought against the
scream that welled in her throat. Her glance darted past her legs to the
moccasined feet of the guide and waves of horror engulfed her.
"No! OH, NO!" she sobbed, too terrified to move. "Don't tell! Please
don't tell!"
She tried to push herself to her feet, but Tony's hand rested on the
small of her back, holding her where she was.
"Please!" she whimpered. "Please, Tony!"
He circled her waist with his fingers, then slid his hands to her hips,
fingering her ass and stroking her thighs. The roughness of his palms was
like needles of pure delight on her skin, and she surged under his caress. He
brushed one finger over her rectum. Her buttocks clamped together, then
spread at Tony's insistent massage. His thumbs settled on her labia, forcing
them apart and making her cunt yawn. He poked one square-tipped finger at
the eager little mouth and grunted with amusement when the rim puckered.
"Maybe you good fuck," he observed.
"Omigod, Tony! No! . . . Yes! . . . Oh, Tony!"
He uttered the grunt she'd come to know as his substitute for a
sympathetic chuckle. Gently he raised her, then took her in his arms and laid
her on the earth.
<< Danny Does Mom / Part 2 >>
Chapter 2
Tony's nose was narrow and sharp and his eyes were close-set,
glittering black beads that appeared to radiate condescension along with
hunger as the leered at her. His cheeks were gaunt and pocked, his chin
jutted crookedly, and thin lips drew back to reveal gaps between jagged,
worn teeth.
Helen writhed. She knew she had reached the end of her virginity, and
the knowledge brought fierce joy over a thick fabric of regret. In her
fantasies, she'd pictured the even as involving some dashing, worldly type
with flashing eyes and an eager grin, abandoning his castles out of wild
desire for her. She'd dreamed of haunting music, softly glowing lights and
velvet cushions. Instead, she had an unkempt old indian taking a moment
from a day with nothing to do, visibly gratified at the diversion chance had
thrown his way. The only music was a sighing somewhere high in the trees;
the light was what filtered through close-growing needles, and her cushion
was a springy mattress of leafmold.
But her moment had come, nonetheless, and it was surely more
exciting than being had on the back seat of a hot rod. She thrilled at her
nakedness, acutely conscious of the bizarre note her boots added and
secretly embarrassed at how small her peaked breasts were. And the dark-
skinned creature who unbuttoned his fly as he dropped to his knees between
her outflung thighs was Man without pretense or sophistication. There
would be no subtlety as his cock thrust aside the membrane of her
innocence and no apology as his semen spilled into her.
He bent over her, tugging his cock into the open and reaching out to
fondle her.
'Black!' she thought, shivering. 'Black and knobby and dull! Not smooth
and white and shiny like Daddy's!' She sucked her belly in while his fingers
scraped across it. He closed his hand over her breast, squeezing and rubbing,
and a sharp gasp caught in her throat. His Levi's felt rough against the inner
slopes of her thighs and she twitched when he laid one hand over the brush
of her pubic hair.
His cock pulsed and he ran his tongue over his lips. She stared in
fascination at the stray hairs that clung to his shaft where it poked through
his open fly, and at his cockhead, half out of his taut foreskin. There was a
bead of clear fluid at the tip of the swollen bulb and from her angle the slit
was clearly visible, gaping darkly.
He grinned knowingly, clearly aware of the focus of her attention, and
used both hands to tease her nipples, rolling them like cherries between his
fingers while she pressed her fists to her shoulders and breath hiss
between her teeth. He felt her, his hands roving over her curves with
lingering, tantalizing slowness, as if he were renewing memories he'd put
too far behind. Helen twisted in pleasure at the tingles that raced over her
in wave after wave. He caught a strand of her pubic hair in his fingers,
pulling it straight and letting it snap back, then ran his fingers into the
quivering zone at the top of her thigh next to her pussy. She whimpered at
the electric urgency of the sensation and drew one knee up to press it to her
side.
"Tony! Oh, Tony! Am I going to be your squaw?"
"Mmmph," he grinned at her. "We fuck."
"Yes," she whispered.
He lowered himself, the folds of his shirt settling on her breasts and
the hardness of his Levi's on her belly. She felt his cockhead against her
pussy, heat on heat, and gasped. But he turned, resting one hip in the angle
of her widespread thigh, and fingered her cunt.
"Ah! . . . Oh! . . . " she gasped.
He dragged his fingertip along her slit and probed to feel the
indentation of her vagina. Slowly, deliberately, he forced the blunt digit
into her, twisting it and stretching the sensitive rim. Helen rolled the back
of her head on the earth and dug her bootheels in.
"Oh, My!" she exclaimed in a low moan. "Oh, my gosh!" His finger was
bigger than hers and rougher, and there was a feeling of fullness she'd not
experienced before in playing with herself. An instant of terror swept her
at the thought of his cock and how much greater it was than his finger. ut
her desire was deepening, jerking at her gut and making his looming bulk
waver before her eyes.
He rolled back, lodging his cockhead between her pussy lips and
pushing. She felt the blunt instrument fill her vagina and rest solidly in the
surrounding tissues. An uncontrollable urge came over her to rotate her
pelvis up and forward, and she felt her hips tighten and thrust. The pressure
at her pussy increased sharply as her sheath stretched and slid onto the
slopes of the enormous bulb.
"Mmh! . . . Oh . . . Oh . . . !" she cried out, clutching at Tony's arms.
Tony lunged against her. His cockhead rammed through the resistance
of her cunt against something tighter and incapable of stretching. Searing
pain washed over Helen. She felt as if she were tearing, and she pulled her
knees up and spread them in a futile effort to open wide enough to stop the
hurt.
Tony grunted and thrust, the impossible wedge spreading her and
creeping inward. There was a sudden sensation of yielding and a new leaping
of fiery pain, then relief. Helen's throat closed in the moment of agony and
opened afterward, letting her punt-up breath escape in a sighing rush. The
black cock was an incredible fullness in her pussy, and the sensation of the
huge head's intrusion into the core of her belly was a delight she had never
anticipated. She lashed out with her feet, pedaling them in the air.
"Aghhh! Ahhh, Tony!"
Tony's body tensed at her cry and his cock drove inward with a single,
smooth push that dilated her virgin channel for the first time. His groin
slapped against her crotch and his cockhead came to rest high in her belly.
Helen forgot her earlier pain and was aware only of the intense pleasure
that surged in her. She clamped her knees to Tony's sides and levered her
hips, bumping her pussy against the hardness of his Levi's while he pumped
at her. His cock slid rapidly back and forth in her and her body rocked under
the repeated blows. She clawed sensuously at him, her fingernails catching
in his shirt. The edges of his fly rasped like rough sticks along her pussy
lips, catching single pubic hairs and jerking at them. Her body was a raw
lump of delight.
"Ugh!" Tony grunted explosively. "Tight cunt! Make Tony cum quick! . . .
Unnnh!"
His thrusts slowed and a ball of warmth grew in her belly. Her clitoris
throbbed as the hardness of his shaft rode over it, and pressure pounded in
her head. She gulped, a convulsive spasms seizing her pussy and spreading
over her, stiffening her body and making her back arch. She dug her heels
into the backs of his thighs and levered her crotch tightly against the base
of his cock.
A violent tremor shook her and she felt her vagina contract to squeeze
Tony's buried cock. "Mmmm!" she moaned, deep in her throat. "MMMM! . . .
MMMM!" Her orgasm washed back and forth over her, jerking her helpless
body and making her hear an inner roaring. The sensation seemed a totally
different one from the kind she'd brought on by playing with herself, and she
was frightened at its intensity. But her fright was a pale thing beside the
awesome feeling of pleasure that flooded her.
At last the tremors stopped and her inner convulsions subsided. She
collapsed, limp beneath the weight of Tony's body. She heard his light
panting and realized how hoarse and labored her own breathing was.
"Tony! . . . I can't . . . breath! . . . You're . . . squashing me!"
He grunted and propped himself on his forearms, his softening cock
settling in her. "You pretty good fuck, Helen. Lot better'n Ol' Kai."
"Old Kai!" she shrieked, visualizing the emaciated mangy bitch whose
devotion to the guide seemed her only redeeming feature. "Tony! You don't!"
He giggled. "You better'n her. Maybe fuck again tomorrow?"
"Brrr! Get off!" Helen laughed and twisted. Knowing the cock that was
in her had rested in a scrawny, stiff-legged bitch brought its own kind of
thrill, and Helen savored the wicked awareness while she could still
squeeze Tony's shrunken meat with her twat. Then again, 'Get off, dirty old
man!"
Tony chuckled and jabbed his useless cock forward, then heaved
himself off her. There was a sucking noise at her crotch when his cockhead
popped free of her cunt, and she groaned at the abrupt emptiness.
The gaunt Indian leered at her , teasing, his knees still holding her
thighs apart and his fingers resting on her slowly swaying boobs. He
pretended momentary revulsion. "Ugh! You too white . . . like dough!'
"Go away! You're nasty!" she giggled.
"But good fuck, anyhow."
"Go away!"
He grinned broadly, surged to his feet, and gazed down at her
languorous pose. 'You like, Helen. Tomorrow maybe?"
She knew she would. Nothing could keep her from wanting that cock as
long as the guide was with them. Desire knotted her belly and she nodded.
"Maybe tonight?" she whispered.
"Maybe." He strode from the clearing, leaving her alone in her
nakedness.
She trembled and sat up, ignoring the soreness of her pussy but
thrilling at the sight of her reddened flesh, the rolled tops of her socks and
the gleam of her boots startling her. "God, how wicked!" she told herself
softly. "Grandma would just die!"
Helen shuddered and groaned now, hearing Art's tuneless humming
from beyond the bathroom's closed door and remembering the incessant
hunger she'd felt the rest of that summer. She'd slipped away from her
parents again and again to give herself to the Indian, and she'd known within
a week of reaching home that she was pregnant.
Grandmother Farrell had died when she learned of Helen's pregnancy.
She'd raved at Helen, cursing her for being so much like her mother. "Her
that's made a lecher out of a fine boy!" she'd screamed. And the old woman
had succumbed to a stroke that very night. Ruth and Abe had been grim,
making no secret of the fact that the stroke had been the direct result of
Grandmother Farrell's anger and shock over Helen's actions.
To Helen, her grandmother's death had been a two-edged tragedy. For
the first time, she realized how much she had loved the cantankerous old
woman. Her sense of guilt was a tangible, oppressive burden that failed to
lighten with time. And her parents' attitude toward her, formerly trusting
and permissive, and changed to one of bitterness and suspicion. They had
abruptly curtailed her free time and her freedom of choice and movement.
What little time the baby left her, they had taken care to see she was well
supervised.
'Not that it would have mattered,' she told herself, listening to Art's
tuneless humming through the closed bathroom door. 'They didn't have to
worry.' She had privately committed herself upon her grandmother's death.
Having taken the old woman's life (she had believed) she had determined to
give her own. And she had done it by becoming the old woman in her beliefs
and actions. She had sealed her former lustful, passionate self away and
turned into the woman she believed her grandmother had been. It had been as
simple as that.
Danny had been born, a big, beautiful boy baby, and Helen had grimly
rejected her parent's urging to give him up. She had felt no lingering
affection for his half-civilized father - there was nothing for him but
revulsion - but it had seemed a fit punishment to look at the fruit of her
wickedness, reminding herself daily of the way she'd killed Grandmother
Farrell. To her own confused amazement, Danny had captured her love. Until
Art had married her, the boy had been the center of her universe, and when
Art had insisted on adopting Danny, the act had deepened her emotion
toward her new husband to an unbelievable pitch of devotion. His only flaw
in her eyes was his apparent insensitivity and animal appetite for sex. But
she had persisted in the private vow she'd made to the memory of her
grandmother, and she sighed now with self-approval for the way she'd met
and conquered temptation.
She heard Art turn off the water and stop singing. A sharp tingle
assailed her and she tugged the blanket up to her chin, annoyed at this
evidence that she was still not free of her baser nature. 'Still a wicked,
wretched creature!' she told herself. 'Just like Grandma said! Lustful and
crude!' So crude and lustful, she remembered, that she tingled like this
when Barry looked, heavy-lidded, at her body - or even when Danny tilted his
head to one side and pretended in his adolescent way to leer at her. 'Wicked!
Wicked! Wicked!' she thought.
Art came out of the bathroom without his pajamas. He stared at her
with an expression of hunger, his cock jutting boldly at a forty-five degree
angle, rising steeply from the thick, blonde mat of his pubic hair.
Helen gasped, furious at her own involuntary surge of interest. "Art!"
"Yeah!" He crossed to the bed and threw back the covers.
Too late, Helen snatched at the edge of the blanket. She shrieked.
"ART! For God's sake, what's gotten into you!"
"It's getting into you that's got me worked up right now, puss."
"Oh, damn it, Art! That's disgusting!" She turned her back to him.
The mattress sagged beneath his weight and she felt his hand on her
shoulder. He bent over her and tried to kiss her, but she buried her face in
the pillow.
"Aw, come on, sugar! What the hell!" His voice sounded pained.
"Not when you're acting like an animal," she replied, the pillow
muffling her words.
"Come on, baby," he said softly, his hand passing lightly over her body.
She stiffened, habit quelling the instinctive thrill that touched her
spine.
"Come on! It's not that bad!" Art coaxed.
With a resigned sigh, she let him roll her onto her back. He fingered
her belly through her nightgown and touched her forehead with his lips.
"Pull the covers up," she said, her eyes tightly closed.
In a moment she felt the weight of the blanket on her body.
"And turn out the light."
She heard the socket snap and the glow on her eyelids turned to
darkness. She held herself motionless, enduring the awkward caresses and
blocking the tendrils of pleasure that threatened her reserve. Ar thrust his
hand inside the front of her nightgown to paw at her breast. She bit her lips
and clenched her fists, proud of her ability to resist temptation and
miserable because there was a part of her that was like her mother - hungry
for her man's touch. That, she'd not succeeded in stifling, although maturing
had enabled her to control her reactions outwardly.
She gasped. Art was turning back her nightgown - pushing one side of
the front away - and she felt his breath on her suddenly puckered nipple.
"Art! Art, stop that!"
His hand, cupped around the bulge of her breast and squeezing it
upward, went slack and she felt the welcome pressure of nylon covering the
sensitive mound again.
"Good God, Art! After all!" She fumbled at the material on her hips,
inching it up and gathering it in her hands until the hem lay across her
belly. Teasing, she let her bare thigh touch Art's, then spread her knees and
waited for him. He made a muffled sound and rolled onto her, his cock
resting at her cunt.
Despite herself, she shivered at the wave of desire that swept through
her. "Mmmm!" she moaned under her breath. She felt her hips twitch.
Art pressed his cockhead into her slit so it nudged her labia. She
pushed her fists against her hips and struggled against the urge to meet his
thrust with one of her own. His body hardened and his hips drove downward,
his cock plunging into her twat. She startled herself by jabbing upward
buttocks clamping together to raise her ass from the mattress. The bony
hardness of his root crushed her clitoris and sent an unexpected jolt of
pleasure inward.
"Mm! . . . Unh!" She jerked her head into the pillow. 'It's because he's
bare! she thought wildly. 'It's because the hair on his legs feels the way it
does! It's because his skin's so hot on mine! "Mh! . . . Mh! . . . "
Art's hips stroked, his flesh rubbing silkily over her thighs and his
cock pumping in the grip of her pussy. Excitement surged in her belly and
she realized she was moving her body to his rhythm. She gritted her teeth
and stilled her motion, but Art's hand slid past hers and his fingers curled
under her ass. She held her breath while he squeezed, closing her fingers
around his wrist. He worked his palm around her asscheek and his fingertips
probed into her crack. She wrenched her hips convulsively, enraged at the
explosion of excitement the act had produced in her.
"No! NO! Stop that, Art! Goddamn it, you're nothing but an animal
tonight!"
"Oh, horseshit!" Art heaved himself off her, his cock jerking at her
pussy rim with a force that made her wince. "You don't know what you're
talking about! What do you mean, an animal?" He flung himself away from
her, his breathing harsh and rapid.
"I mean, not like a civilized human being!"
"Shit, shit, shit! That's what makes man different! He's got a little
imagination! Let me tell you how it is with animals, baby! Know what that'd
be like?"
"What do you mean?"
"Getting screwed by an animal."
"Art! That's not what I was talking about!"
"The hell it wasn't! Every time I go for a handful of tit or rub your
ass, you make out like I'm being an animal! And I say that's horseshit! I'll
tell you what it would be like if you had an animal screwing you!"
"ART! I won't listen!"
"Then don't listen; I'm telling you anyhow! Take that damn donkey of
Dan's."
"Smokey? That's impossible, Art! Ugh!'
"Like hell! You bend over that feed table of his naked and you'll find
out! Know how it would be? He'd look at you for a bit - look at those smooth
white cheeks on your ass and that pink twat with the red fur lining - and his
dong would start to grow. Pretty soon he'd heave himself up and put his
front hooves on your back, or maybe on either side of you, and jab that big
Goddamn prick at your pussy!'
"Don't" Please don't say any more!" She whispered, alarmed at the
raging hunger in her pussy. Art's intense, rapid description had awakened
the worst of her deep-buried dreams, thrusting them to the surface and
making her writhe. "No, no, no!"
"Ever notice what a sharp point that dong's got when he's got a hard-
on? He'd wiggle his ass until that point found your cunt, baby, and then he'd
slam it to you! Think it wouldn't go? Bullshit! Like a greased rolling pin!
Stretch you some - maybe make you do the splits - might make your eyes
bug, but that prick would go all the way! And he'd play 'The Stars and
Stripes Forever' on your belly with his balls while he was fucking you! Every
time he poked his dick home, you'd bounce into the air! That sonofabitch
wouldn't mess around trying to feel you up or show you he loved you. He'd
just ram his cock in and fuck until he came! If you got a cum out of it, fine;
if you didn't, so what? Think he'd care? He'd get his rocks off and be done .
. . what the hell!"
"Ooh! . . . Brrr! . . . Art, you're terrible! You've got a filthy
mind! You're sick!" She shuddered, her pussy throbbing and her thighs working
against each other. 'And I'm sick to let that make me excited,' she thought
miserably. "That's all you can think about anymore. Sex! The way you looked
at Vanessa tonight you might as well have been in bed with her! You even
ogled her sister, and Olga's only twenty!" She subsided, fighting to catch
her breath and quiet the turmoil in her crotch.
After a long pause, Art replied, his tone hardly more than a whisper.
"Maybe if you thought as much of me as you do your Goddamn housework I
wouldn't get turned on just because some broad acted human. Christ, Helen,
you're about as warm these days as a snow bank. Just about as responsive,
too."
"Maybe I'd be warmer if you weren't such a grouch. Art, don't you
realize how sullen and nervous you've gotten? I almost hate to hear the car
came into the driveway!"
"What the hell do you expect of a guy when he gets a piece of ass once
a month whether he needs it or not - and figures he's gotten his cock into
the freezer by mistake even then?"
She stiffened. "And besides, you've gotten crude! You sound like some
thug out of the gutter!" A sob caught in her throat. "You aren't the same at
all! Housework's the only way for me to get rid of the tension from the way
you're acting!"
"Goddamn it! I keep telling you I want a little affection! Shit, I'd like
to have a woman turn on when she's gettin' screwed. I'd like a woman to
figure out it's good if she gets excited when a guy sucks her tit or plays
with her ass or something - that sex is fun instead of being a Goddamn duty!"
"I can't help that, Art! I can't help it!'
"Yeah, I know." His voice was heavy with defeat. "Some guy gets in
your pants when you're fifteen and sixteen years later you're still afraid to
let go. Hell, sixteen years!" He sighed. "Oh, shit, what's the use? He turned
his back to her.
"Art?"
There was no reply.
"Art? Please?"
"Go to sleep."
Very slowly she worked her nightgown into place. She held herself
rigid, hands pressed to her thighs and knees clamped together, trying to
quiet the lingering desire. As she let their argument replay itself in her
mind, fear and anger replaced her frustration. Art hadn't been searching for
cutting responses to her accusations. He'd said things that had been bottled
inside, festering in his subconscious. The understanding patience she'd
loved him for had been an act, she realized, masking irritation and
resentment. And that was the way marriages fell apart.
There was a streak of gray in the sky before she finally managed to
sleep.
<< Danny Does Mom / Part 3a >>
Chapter 3
At the breakfast table after Dan had left for school, Art suggested
Helen see a psychiatrist. He approached the subject carefully and had her
agreement before she was fully aware of what he'd implied. Even then, she
followed through by making an appointment; a "shrink" ought to understand
what she was putting up with. He would most likely insist Art come in for
treatment.
But Dr. Davis did not. Helen left his office with her ego bruised and her
self-confidence shaken. She went to Vanessa Rush. 'She's the closest friend
I've got,' she reasoned. 'Even if she does act a little wild.' She shook her
head and pursed her lips.. 'Come now, Helen. More than a little. And the way
she talks! But she's always been good to me, and she's never got a mean
thought.'
Vanessa listened closely to Helen's description of the fight and the
subsequent visit to Dr. Davis. Helen wished it were easier to read her
friend's expression - to know whether she was seeing sympathy or
amusement or something else - but she was grateful for the fact that
Vanessa didn't interrupt.
"Oh!" Helen exclaimed as she concluded her account of Dr. Davis'
reaction. "Can you imagine! Telling a married woman she doesn't know
anything about sex! Vanessa, he was terrible! He said things I's never let Art
say! Ugh!"
"Like what?" Vanessa appeared interested.
"I wouldn't repeat them! Perverted sex things he said I ought to have
Art do! He . . . he . . . Vanessa, he even said I ought to . . . to have
intercourse with other men! He was awful. I'm never going back to him!"
"Honey, I think you need a drink." Vanessa mixed a double-strength
Screwdriver for Helen. "You sound tight as a drum."
Helen shuddered. The sympathy in Vanessa's voice was almost
disastrous in its effect on Helen's self control. She choked back a sob and
gulped the orange juice and vodka. "How could such a dirty-minded man get
to be a doctor? Honestly, Van!'
"Did he think your marriage might be in any danger, hon?"
Helen nodded and drained her glass. "The only thing he said that was
right. He agreed there was a real danger."
"You don't want to lose Art, do you?"
"Omigod, no! That would kill me, Van!"
"Even if you knew you weren't going to be able to change him?"
Helen hesitated. "You mean, if he never did get over being . . . well, a
sex fiend?"
"Yes."
"I don't want to lose him." Helen whispered. She held out her empty
glass to Vanessa for a refill. "I love him, Van. No matter what, I love him! I
won't let him go!"
Vanessa mixed another double. She spoke without looking at Helen.
"What if keeping him meant you had to be something you're not?"
"Change myself?" A sense of relaxed warmth was seeping through
Helen. "Pretend I don't mind him looking at me naked? Let him do all those
things he . . . ?"
Vanessa nodded. "That's the only way."
The image of her grandmother rose in Helen's mind and horror filled
her at the thought she'd been toying with. "No! . . . no! I won't!" 'But I
love him! I can't lose him!' "Isn't there any other way?"
"Well . . . " Vanessa hesitated. "You might try shocking him. Maybe you
could bring him to his senses that way."
"How?"
"Shock hell out of him! He wants you naked, let him see you naked! In
front of Barry and me!'
"VAN! For God's sake! I'm not that drunk!"
"I'm serious! Start like it's a game - or like we're practicing a skit
for Wednesday Club!"
"I'd dir! I couldn't take my clothes off!"
"Make it a skit. You're a new slave being auctioned off. Costumes.
Think he'd let it go all the way?"
Helen hiccuped. "In front of Barry? No!" She was suddenly excited.
"You're right! It'll work!"
"Tonight then. Call Danny and have him go to the Avery's. Call Art's
office and leave a message, they'll get to him by radio."
"No use. I still can't take off the costume."
"You'd be a slave. Chained." Vanessa laughed. "We'd have to use
clothesline instead of chain, but we could spread-eagle you against the
grate there. "How far do you think Art would let me get?"
"All right. That way." Helen pressed her hand to her forehead,
conscious of her giddiness. She knew Art would be indignant - that he'd stop
them almost before they got started. She wasn't sure how the shock would
make the desired change in Art, but she probably would if she weren't so
drunk; Vanessa obviously did.
Vanessa kept Helen pleasantly lubricated the rest of the afternoon. It
was a time of confused activity, making costumes out of sheets, locating
rope, and making the necessary telephone calls. And Helen was still drunk
when Art arrived. Conversation at the dinner table swirled around her,
confused and trivial, and she continually found herself trying to unravel one
topic only to discover the others had slipped into another. She ate little,
the food appealing less to her than her drink, and she giggled at those times
when Art acted as if he ought to be enlightened.
Afterward, when they had settled in the living room with liqueurs, she
nodded owlishly while Vanessa introduced the fiction about their skit for
Wednesday Club. And without quite realizing the time had come, she and
vanessa were on their way to the bedroom.
Helen undressed quickly, glancing at herself in the door-mounted
mirror with satisfaction, and put on the skimpy, wrap-around affair
Vanessa had suggested as a final teaser. 'Like a miniskirt that shrunk,'
Helen told herself. 'But it does cover the hair . . . not that they'll
ever see it. Art won't let us go that far.'
"Know what?" she said to Vanessa when she had her sheet-gown
fastened at the shoulders and pinned down the side. "Know what, Van? I'm
still drunk." She giggled.
"And pretty relaxed," Vanessa observed. "I thought you'd be all up-
tight by now!"
Helen watched with a sense of detachment while Vanessa tied chunks
of rope to each of her wrists and ankles. She held her hands behind her,
resting against her ass, when Vanessa gathered the free rope ends in her hand.
"Let's go, slave-girl," remarked Vanessa with a hint of excitement in
her voice.
Helen was startled at the sudden gleam in Art's eyes when he saw her
costume. Glancing at herself in the brighter light of the living room, she
realized the sheet was anything but shadow-proof; the relative darkness of
her nipples showed clearly, and even with the brief "teaser skirt" there
was a faint shadow at her crotch. She shivered and let Vanessa guide her to
the grating.
"This one's rebellious," commented Vanessa, going into the act. She
made Helen turn with her back to the bars. "Okay, honey," she whispered.
"Do your stuff. Arms first, I guess."
Helen extended her arms over her head and held them patiently while
Vanessa secured her wrists to one of the cross-bars. And at a prod of
Vanessa's finger and a curt order, she spread her feet. Vanessa tied the
ankle ropes, tugging at them to pull Helen's legs still further apart.
Helen gasped. "Oooh! That stretches me!" She squirmed helplessly.
Vanessa straightened. "You look great, honey!" she said in a low tone.
"It's going to work!"
Helen glanced at her husband's face. His eyes were wide and he stared
at her without blinking. 'So far,' she thought, 'he's himself. Nothing on his
mind but how sexy it looks.'
'Observe, gentlemen," Vanessa was saying. "One of the loveliest of our
captive princesses! No submissive peasant, this one." She paused and gazed
at Helen. "But she'll bring hours of pleasure to the lucky one who buys her.
Do I hear an offer? What, no bid?"
Helen saw Barry start to speak and caught the quick shake of
Vanessa's head. 'That's right,' she thought. 'Don't let them forget we're
practicing a skit.'
Vanessa smiled. "Of course! A discerning group like you would
hesitate. 'What about damage?' you ask yourselves. 'A beautiful face.' you
say, 'but what about the body?' I assure you the flesh is flawless." She
paused. "What? You doubt? The exaggeration of the marketplace you say?
I'm wounded. Wait! See for yourselves!"
Helen tensed at the avid interest she saw in both men's faces. And she
quivered while Vanessa unfastened the safety pin that held the costume
together at her left shoulder. The material fell free, slipping away from her
shoulder and dropping against her body. She looked down in sudden panic to
see how much of her had been exposed. 'Good God!' she thought. 'Another half
inch and they could have seen my nipple!' The creamy flesh of her breast
swelled boldly in clear view, the fold of the sheet lying across the upper
edge of the pink aureole. A wave of giddiness swept over her. 'Oooh! How
wicked!' she thought.
"Absolutely without a flaw!" repeated Vanessa. And then, "You still
wonder? What skeptics! Come now!" She shrugged and turned with an air of
resignation to fumble with the pin at Helen's other shoulder.
"No!" whispered Helen. "He'll stop us now!" But she saw no startled
objection in Art's expression. His lips were parted and he appeared to be
breathing hard, but he made no move to stop Vanessa.
Vanessa pulled the pin free and stepped back. The top of the costume
folded slowly downward, clinging momentarily to Helen's globes and then
sliding free and tumbling about her waist, where it hung from the belt
cord.
"Oh! . . . Oh! . . . " Helen gasped with horror as she gazed at her
nakedness. Her breasts strained, drawn taut by the tension in her arms. The
nipples stood out, quivering and beginning to pucker with her sudden fright.
'Why doesn't he stop us?' she asked herself.
Vanessa faced the men confidently. "You see? You see, gentlemen?
Perfection from conquered Minoa! Perfection! Note the ripe fullness . . . the
luscious texture . . . the proud erectness! Where have you ever seen such
succulent-looking raisins as these?"
To Helen's horrified amazement, Vanessa brushed each of the
darkening nipples with her fingertips.
"Oh!" she cried impulsively. "OoH! No!" She squirmed, her shoulders
pressed against the bars. "Don't!" She winced at the jolt of pleasure the
touch sent through her.
Vanessa winked at her and turned back to the men. "I don't know," she
said, pretending distress. "I don't know what the market's coming to these
days. An honest owner shouldn't have to put up with this kind of skepticism,
Goodness! Can't you what an opportunity you have!" She sighed. "Ah, well.
All in a day's work." She unfastened the three pins holding the costume
together at the side and let the sheet drape from the cord.
Helen shuddered at the taut boldness of her exposed left thigh. The
tiny miniskirt Vanessa had designed was shockingly overtaxed by the wide
angle of Helen's legs and a sick tremor seized her stomach at the thought
some of her pubic hairs might be visible beneath the ragged edge. Only the
fact that the sheet covered most of it served as consolation. 'He'll stop us
now,' she assured herself. 'He won't let us go any further; he surely sees
what we're ready to do!' She studied Art's expression and felt a burst of
terror at the fascination that appeared to grip him. His gaze met hers and he
smiled as if awed.
Vanessa bent and ran her fingers down Helen's bare thigh. Helen felt
goose flesh pop out and saw the flesh twitch. She had a moment of fright at
the abrupt convulsion in her pussy. 'No!' she thought. 'I;m not like that,
still! Oh, no!'
"See the seductive taper," said Vanessa huskily. "Observe how smooth
the line is from that dainty knee to this girl's playground! Gentlemen! Have
you no imagination? Gods above!'
Helen had avoided looking at Barry. Now, she glanced without thinking.
He sprawled in his easychair, legs extended and chin on chest, a great bulge
showing in the front of his trousers. She looked quickly at her husband and
discovered his fly was tented. The fact sent a surge of excitement through
her and she writhed with guilty awareness of the pleasure she felt in their
attention. 'I'm terrible! Oh, dear! I like having them excited!'
She realized belatedly that Vanessa was untying the waist cord. The
sheet collapsed to the floor, leaving only the skimpy, improvised miniskirt
to hide Helen's nakedness. She stared at herself, hypnotized by the sight of
her elongated navel. 'I didn't know my navel would show! It didn't in the
bedroom! And this thing's so terribly short! I know they can see hair! Art!
Art, what are you waiting for?!'
Helen tugged at the ankle ropes, suddenly remembering she'd forgotten
to remove her high-heeled sandals. But there was no slack in the loop and no
way to relieve the pressure that held the bottom of the skirt so high.
"Vanessa!" Helen whispered. "Van, we can't go any further!"
Vanessa leaned close. "Honey, we can't stop now! Look how shocked
Art is already. Only he still doesn't believe we'll go all the way. That's
what'll clinch it!"
"No! No, Van! I just can't!"
"Sure you can, hon. You're splendid! Anyhow, I won't let you go it by
yourself. I'll take mine off, too. Think how that'll hit them!" Vanessa
stepped toward the men. "Come now, good sirs! How stubborn are you going
to be? Have you ever gazed at greater beauty? Look again at those
marvelous globes! Imagine one of those saucy nipples tickling the arch of
your throat!" She cupped her palm under on of Helen's breasts, then tenderly
rolled the nipple between her fingertips. of delight shook Helen and she
drew a deep, audible breath.
"Just meditate on the daintiness of this dear waist!" Vanessa
continued. "Think of it! You could easily encircle it with your two hands! The
thighs - the hips - please, gentlemen!" She paused panting. "What? Still
skeptical? Oh, God! What cynic! You demand the last bit, don't you!"
"No-no-no . . . !" Helen moaned softly when Vanessa reached for the pin
in the waistband of the tiny skirt. "Nonono . . . ! Oh, Van!" The flesh at her
waist writhed at the pressure of Vaness'a fingers, and abruptly the skirt
loosened. "NO!" Helen cried out sharply. She felt the soft cloth being dragged
across her belly and looked down with a sense of disbelief.
Van held the material as if it were a matador's cape, twitching it
away from Helen's body but using it to screen her pussy from view. While
Helen watched, the quick hands swished the skirt aside and them back in
place, offering the men a tantalizing glimpse of her red-haired snatch.
Helen pressed her ass against the bars and whimpered. She saw her husband
start from his chair.
'Now!' she thought with a surge of relief. 'Now he's sure! He'll make us
stop!'
But Art merely came closer, and Barry joined him. Both of them licked
their lips.
Vanessa sighed and shook her head. "You win," she said. She whipped
the skirt away and dropped it to the floor.
Helen sagged in her bonds, her flesh crawling and the heat welling at
her core. Art and Barry devoured her with their stares, and she imagined she
could feel a physical impact wherever their glances fell. 'Like when Tony
look at me this way!' she thought wildly, reminding herself this was the
first time any man but the obstetrician had looked at her naked pussy since
that day. 'It can't be! I'm not really here! Not naked and spread-eagled with
men gawking at me! Oh, Mother-in-Heaven, they're raping me with their
eyes! And, Helen! You bitch! You're all excited!' Her cunt throbbed and she
tingled. "Van! Oh, please, Van!" She felt hysteria edging into her.
Vanessa whispered. "It's working, hon! It's sinking in! Art's
beginning to realize what we've done!"
Helen shook her head, rolling it against one of the bars. "I can't stand
it any longer! Oh, Van, i can't!"
"Just a little more, honey! Let me get you another drink real quick!"
"I'm already dizzy! If I drink another one I won't know what I'm
doing!"
But Vanessa ran to the bar and poured Vodka into a glass, bringing it
to Helen without pausing to cut it with orange juice. Helen gauged the
tumblerful of clear liquid with her eye and a reckless impulse jarred her.
"Quick!' she panted. "Quick! I need it!'
Vanessa tilted the glass at Helen's lips and Helen gulped. She gasped
and coughed, then captured the rim with her lips and drank again. "I'll be
drunk now!" she exclaimed. "Oh, God, how drunk I'll be!"
She noticed that Barry and her husband were drawing nearer. The
Vodka burned in her stomach and she imagined it was already killing her
inhibitions. "Come on," she muttered thickly. "Come on, you lecherous
bastards. Get a good look."
Art stared into her eyes. He grinned uncertainly and touched her waist.
She flinched. Needles of excitement pricked her. She pouted with a longing
like the one she'd felt that day years before. 'I'm wet!' she thought. 'My
pussy's all wet! Christ, it's hot in here!'
Art stooped and kissed the bulge of her breast. She twisted her
shoulders against the bars and watched her breasts swing. Art's lips parted
and closed on her nipple.
'I can't stop him!' she told herself wildly. 'Omigod! Omigod! I never
felt anything like that!' She cried out, aloud. "Art! Oh, honey! Ooooh!"
<< Danny Does Mom / Part 3b >>
He sucked tenderly. Currents of pleasure radiated from the captured
tit, spreading through the tissues beneath it and into her other boob. She
felt her hips write. In spite of the deep sense of shame that hovered in
the
background, she stared at Art's face. His expression made her catch her
breath; he looked ecstatically contented, his weathered cheek caving in
rhythmically with his sucking and his jaw moving gently as he chewed the
flesh of her breast. With obvious effort, he drew back and glanced at
Barry.
"Man, this has go to be tasted to be believed! You've got to try a
mouthful!"
"No! NO!" Helen exclaimed in a terrified whisper. The very thought of
Barry touching her aroused a raging fire of excitement in her belly. "Oh, no!"
Without waiting, Art sucked her tit into his mouth again and laid his
hand on her belly. Barry edged closer and caught her other tit in his mouth.
"Mmm!" exclaimed Vanessa's. His crooked nose wrinkled and she felt
his hand on the inner fullness of her thigh.
"Ohhh! . . . MMMM! . . . " she moaned, feeling the last of her self-
control evaporating. It was too late to resist the powerful stirrings in her
belly, she knew. She had no way to slow her rising lust or still her body's
squirmings. She jerked at the loops on her wrists, using the harsh bit to
heighten her awareness of her position. Art stroked her belly with circular
movements of his hand and Barry caressed her inner thigh. She ground her
ass on the bars.
"Ahahah! Dear God, forgive me!" she whispered in an agony of desire.
She saw Vanessa remove her costume and pull the hairpins out of her
piled coiffure. Vanessa shook her head, loosening her platinum-blonde hair
and spreading it over her shoulders. Her cans jiggled with the motion and
her hips twisted. She caressed her own boobs, grinning at Helen and
running her hands slowly over her torso to bury her fingers in the thick,
mouse-brown thatch of her pubic hair.
'She's the sexy one!' Helen admitted to herself. 'Her boobies are
twice the size of mine! And she's got hips for riding a man! For heaven's
sake, Helen! Get hold of yourself, you crude shit!' But she knew the vodka
had combined with her helpless nakedness to rob her of the will to object
to her own reactions. her ass was bumping the grating with rhythmic
monotony and her belly was jerking. 'Too many!' she thought. 'Two's too
many!' Her boobs throbbed and she gave up trying to cope with the varied
sensations that assailed her. 'If they's only do something at the same
time!' She was squirming under the thrill of Art's tongue as it caressed
the tip of one nipple and twitching to the electric needles of pleasure
Barry's teeth created as he scraped them over the slopes of the other.
'Barry,' she thought. 'Barry . . . BARRY! What's he doing with his hand!
It's not moving any more!" His hand rested at the top of her thigh, nestled
against the lip of her pussy, it's heat compounding her own. Her hips
surged and she pressed her pussy onto the hard edge of his knuckles before
she knew what she was doing. His thumb stirred and slipped into her slit,
gliding frictionlessly on her wetness.
"Unh! . . . UNHHH!" she exclaimed, rising to the balls of her feet.
"No .. NO! . . . Ahhhh, yessss!" She thrust her belly forward as he wedged his
thumb upward into the mouth of her cunt. "Ahhhh! . . . AHHH!"
Barry released his hold on her tit and sank to his knees. He kissed
her belly, pushing Art's hand aside, then thrust the tip of his tongue into
her navel and twirled it around the edges.
"Umph! . . . Mmmmp!" she grunted and lashed her ass backward. New
fingers of delight shot inward from his touch and she arched her back,
jabbing her protruding belly into Barry's face. She felt his thumb drive
deeper in her twat, bending to jab at the walls of her vagina.
"AH! Oooh! Ahhh!" she panted.
Vanessa had come forward, she saw dimly, and was rubbing her tits
against Art's shoulder while she fumbled at his fly with her hands. Helen
strained to see around her husband's head and past Barry to watch her
friend's fingers. They vanished into Art's trousers and emerged clutching
his cock. Vanessa fondled the turgid prick eagerly, squeezing the shaft
with one hand nd caressing the livid head with the other. Art pulled his
mouth from his wife's boob and faced Vanessa.
"Holy Jesus!" he exclaimed. "You too?"
"Me too, what?" asked the blonde.
"Naked! Oh, shit, baby! Does that mean the green light's on?"
"Try me and see," she murmured.
Helen writhed. 'He's not shocked!' she realized with despair. 'He likes
what's happening!' And she groaned inwardly. 'So do I,' she admitted. 'Oh,
God, so do I!'
Art chose that moment to turn and gaze into her face. Their glances
met and held and she thrilled to the savage joy she saw in his eyes.
He grinned happily at her and looked down at Barry. His excitement
leaped visible and he bent to pear at the other man's hand. "All the way,
man! All the way!" he exclaimed.
Something snapped in Helen and a new flood of fierce joy twisted
her belly. She flung herself out from the bars, hanging in her ropes, and
ground her cunt on the embedded thumb.
Art grinned at her again and his lips formed the words, "Good girl!"
He turned back to Vanessa. "Hey, woman! I got time to get out of these
clothes?"
"Do it fast, then! My mouth's watering!" Vanessa clutched Art's cock
in both hands and squeezed.
Art stared at the trembling blonde with round eyes and tore at his
clothing. He threw it from him and let Vanessa push him into the nearest
armchair. "Jesus, Van! What the hell!"
"Foreskin, baby!" she exclaimed. "It's been a long time without." She
glanced toward Barry with an expression Helen took for guilt. "I like it
without," she added quickly. "It's just that I haven't tasted one with for
so long."
Barry's chuckle rumbled. "Don't apologize. Go ahead and get a
mouthful!"
Vanessa nodded, her face red and contorted, and fell to her knees
beside Art's legs. She rested her boobs on his thighs and put her lips to the
tip of his cock. For a time, she sucked at the very tip, opening her mouth to
place her lips around the bulb, then drawing them over it as if stripping
the outer surface from an ice cream cone. her appearance of agitation
disappeared. She closed her eyes and smiled around the bulk of Art's
cockhead. Her color returned to its normal lustrous bronze tint.
"Mmmmm!" she sighed. "All mine." She opened her mouth to its full
extent and worked her lips slowly over the bulb and foreskin to the end of
the shaft. Her eyelashes fluttered and she gazed up at Art.
He caressed her cheek with his fingertips, his face set in an expression of
rapt concentration. Helen's initial sense of repugnance faded and an
intense longing replaced it. Her mouth puckered at the notion of engulfing
that cock. 'Oh, Helen!' she scolded herself.
An incredible sensation of warmth and vibrancy exploded in her
pussy. She cried out and twisted her hips, then thrust her crotch forward.
Barry had seated himself, cross-legged, between her feet. His mouth held
her clitoris and his eyes twinkled up at her.
"Barry!" she whispered. "Oh, Barry! Nnng!'
His hands cupped around her asscheeks, kneading them firmly. The
pleasure at her cunt swelled and pulsed, and her hips drove forward and
rotated her pussy up. She twisted her body in a paroxysm of delight, biting
her lip and moaning. Through the fabric of her excitement she felt her
asscheeks being parted and Barry's fingers driving deeply into her crack.
"No, Barry! Don't! she hissed through her clenched teeth. "Ohhh! Barry!
Goood!" She flung her ass hard against his probing fingers as they caressed
her rectum.
Movement caught her eye. She realized Vanessa had removed her
mouth from Art's cock and was standing. Art had his hands at Vanessa's
wait and she was climbing onto his shoulder. Helen stared, puzzled. The
voluptuous blonde lay forward on Art's body, her legs astride his neck and
he face over his cock once more. Art thrust his tongue into his hostess'
twat and she gobbled at his cock, forcing the head into her mouth and
sliding her lips up and down on the shaft.
Helen gazed at her husband, envious of the way Vanessa's boobs
spread over his belly and the way the tanned body molded itself to his.
She was vaguely aware that Barry was dragging his fingers across
the wet mouth of her pussy, caressing it's rim and slipping in and out of
it.She forgot the other couple and banged against the grating. "Mmmm!
Mmm, Barry! Good!"
His fingers slid back into her ass crack and pressed at her rectum,
arousing new tremors. There was a sudden increase in the pressure and a
weird sensation of stretching.
"Ah! . . . Agh! . . . What is it, Barry?!"
He sucked more vigorously on her clitoris and all her sensations
blended into a single mountain of enjoyment.
Her vision cleared and she looked at Vanessa and Art again.
Vanessa's back undulated up and down and her feet flailed the air. The
shimmering blonde hair flew in a writhing mass around Vanessa's head and
over Art's hips, and Art's hands clamped on Vanessa bouncing ass, holding
her pussy at his mouth.
Vanessa jerked her head up, clinging to Art's cock with both hands.
"Art!" she cried. "Art! Omigod! You're going to make me cum!" She lunged
at his prick again, jamming her mouth over it and sucking violently.
Art's eyes grew round and his face worked. He drove his tongue into
the gaping cunt and sucked the outer flesh into his mouth, chewing hard.
Vanessa's head bobbed wildly as her mouth stroked the great shaft, and
she slammed her ass down, crushing her twat against Art's face. Her body
stiffened and broke into a great tremor, but she maintained the furious
assault with her lips.
Art's knuckles whitened and his fingers dug into the full asscheeks.
His body stiffened and his ass rose from the chair. Helen saw his cock
pulse and realized intuitively he was cumming. She watched Vanessa's
face with breathless fascination. The staring blonde swallowed hard and
continued to suck, her throat working continuously. Her smooth, plump
legs straightened and the toes pointed at the far wall while Vanessa's ass
quivered in the intensity of her orgasm.
Helen sagged when she saw the climaxing couple collapse. She
realized with horror that she had risen dangerously near the kind of
perverse ecstasy she hadn't experienced since her summer with Tony.
Barry's mouth left her pussy and his finger withdrew from her ass.
Barry heaved himself to his feet and pressed his cock into the flesh
of her belly. "Anyone ever tell you what a sexy Goddamn broad you are,
Helen!" he panted.
"Barry, please," she said in a low tone. "Please."
He rubbed his cock against her belly. "I'm so hot I'm about to bust a
blood vessel!" he exclaimed. "Those other two make it yet?" He glanced
over his shoulder and chuckled. "Looks like they did. Shit, they're one up on
us. Come on, let's fuck."
"Barry! Oh, Barry, don't talk like that, please!"
"Okay. No talk. Let's just do it." He bent his knees, pressing them
against the undersides of her thighs, and his cockhead slid down through
her pubic hair and under her crotch. She felt its bulk nestle in her labia
and gasped.
'He's going to! He is!' "Barry! Barry, they didn't do that! Barry!"
He surged upward and his cock slammed into her cunt, driving into
her guts and filling her with a fiery sensation.
"Yaghhh! . . . Eeeaghhh! . . . MMMM!" Her hips flogged and her cunt
pounded on the base of the buried cock. Barry grabbed her ass and jerked
her away from the grate, straining up so her feet left the floor and pulled
violently against her ankle bonds.
"Ah! . . . Ah! . . . AH! . . . " she gasped at each of his thrusts. Her
pleasure roared over her and she forgot everything but the gush of
sensation. Her belly tensed and a hard knot formed around the deep-
pressed cockhead. She mumbled in a monotone, "Fuck-fuck-fuck!"
Barry's cock stroked in her. Her boobs jounced and her knees jerked.
An ocean of passion rose over her and carried her beyond herself. She felt
the knot in her belly jerk loose as a hard contraction snapped the mouth of
her vagina on Barry's prick. A hard trembling shook her and she turned
rigid. "MMMM! . . . AHHH! . . . " Her moans carried the edge of her lust. She
wallowed in her climax, aware that Barry's pumping had yielded to a
steady, frenzied force against her. A flood of liquid heat ballooned her gut
and her orgasm redoubled in ferocity. She screamed with delight and
scrubbed her pussy in the steel wool of his pubic hair. He thrust his face
forward and grabbed her nipple with his mouth, biting on it while his jism
continued to well into her. And his fingers kneaded her buttocks
mercilessly.
At last, his inner storm appeared to subside; his hands relaxed and
the awful upward force of his cock slackened. Helen's cunt spasms slowed
and she let her head fall against one arm.
"Oh! Oh, Barry!"
"Hey, we made it together, baby!"
"Oh, my! Yes, we did!"
"Know something?" he asked in a low tone. "I've come out of a sound
sleep where I was dreaming I was fucking you, Helen! I've wanted to ever
since the first time I saw you! Only I never dreamed about doing it this
way! Jesus Christ, but you're a great fuck!"
"Oh, darling, don't spoil it by using the wrong words! Please!" She
twisted, still impaled on his cock and still unable to reach the floor with
her feet. "Barry . . . I'm hanging by my wrists. They're numb!"
He lowered her and reluctantly pulled out his prick. She fell against
the bars, panting and weak, while his hands continued to rove over her
body. The her horror, she discovered that her sensory system was still
capable of stimulus. Excitement jabbed at her and her hips began to twist
again. Barry massaged and stroked until she was pleading for his cock, and
she was hardly conscious of the fact he was untying her. She collapsed in
his arms and let him carry her to the couch, where he laid her on her side.
She made no protest when he pushed the knee of her upper leg against her
chest and straddled the other thigh, his cock once more stabbing at her hot
vagina. She undulated her hips in time to his beat and happily rose again to
an orgasm, fleetingly aware that Vanessa had her legs locked around Art's
hips, lashing her body on his embedded prick.
When she collapsed for the second time, Barry bent over her, his
softening cock still buried and his hand idly fondling her tit.
"You're good lying down, too, baby," he said. "What a lucky guy Art
is!"
Helen shook her head. "You don't know," she said. "Maybe you're the
lucky one."
"Oh, hell! I wasn't saying Van's not great! I didn't mean that!"
She bubbled with laughter at the panic in his face and a rush of
tenderness and affection for him took her by surprise. "Mm, you're sweet,
Barry." She snuggled against him.
<< Danny Does Mom / Part 4a >>
Chapter 4
Helen lay beneath Barry for a long time, her pussy contracting
involuntarily at intervals. As the effects of her vodka wore off, the
contractions began to embarrass her and the flashes of anguish made her
shudder each time she squeezed his cock.
'But what can I do?' she asked herself. 'How can I undo what's already a
fact? He's in and we both know it.' She restrained her growing restiveness
until Barry eased his cock out of her and lay beside her. To her chagrin,
her
first response to him gathering her in his arms and pushing his limp dick
into the nest of her pubic hair was to return the pressure. Realizing too
late
what she had implied, she buried her face in the hollow of his neck and
whimpered.
"Pretty much for one night, isn't it, baby?" Barry whispered.
"Yes."
"First time?"
"Yes. The first time tied up - or naked - or with the lights on - or most
of the other things. And the first time with anyone except Art. Not
counting
Danny's father, of course." She wasn't going into that episode.
"Baby, don't let it get you down."
"Huh?"
"I mean, you can't hide from yourself, and no one else is important
enough to hide from."
"Like now?"
"Like now." Barry gently lifted her face from his shoulder and Grinned.
'His teeth are as crooked as his nose,' she thought. 'I forgot that when
he was chewing me.' It struck her that he was heavier than Art . . .
stockier
and with more bulges. His features reminded her of the face of a granite
cliff, seamed and craggy, and his eyes were a gray-green that looked out
of
place with his olive complexion. It was a wonder he could sell anything,
and
she recalled wondering often how he could stay at the top of his field.
But
his very roughness was a source of comfort to her right now, as if
homeliness guaranteed sympathy and understanding. Her only problem was
the increasingly nagging awareness of her nakedness and the intimacy of
their embrace.
"But, Barry! What'll I do? Brrr! You realize what I've done tonight?"
Barry nodded and grinned again. "Christ, yes! It's something you ought
to be proud of! Something to remember! Look how Art ate it up?"
"He . . . he was terrible!"
"Because he liked what was going on?"
"Yes. Oh, Barry!" she wailed. "He should have stopped us!"
"Forget it, baby. I'll bet he's never been that turned on in his whole
life. No offense to you either."
"But imagine what he must think of me! To act like that after all this
time!"
"Look, pet. Don't answer me if you don't want to. But keep asking
yourself and giving honest answers when you do. Did you enjoy what
happened? At the time, I mean. Did the things I did to you feel good? Was
it
good to see how excited Art got and how much fun he had?
She shook her head slowly. "Those aren't the important questions,
Barry. The only important question is, 'Was it right or wrong?"
"That's not a good question until you decide what right and wrong
mean. What they mean to you! To me, what you did was right because it was
fun for everyone here - because no one else will ever know about it and
can't get hurt - because maybe it accomplished something worthwhile. Right
is something different from socially acceptable or conventional, baby!"
"You believe that, don't you?"
"Damn right! And I think you're too big a person not to agree, once you
really think about it."
She tried to think about it, but her awareness of his cock's stirrings
continued to distract her. At last she giggled and pulled back. "Barry,
darling . . . "
"Huh?"
"Whether it's right or wrong, I'm getting sober enough to feel
embarrassed. Would you mind if I went and got some clothes on?"
"I'd mind. But I suppose if I'm too greedy this time I'll screw myself
out of the chance to get another piece from you later on?"
She wanted to tell him his consideration wasn't about to earn him a
repeat performance, then though better of it; if she said something like
that, he might take it as a subtle hint she wouldn't resent greed.
She scrambled over him, furious at herself when she paused to let her
pussy rest on his warm flesh for a moment. His quick grin assured her he
hadn't missed the significance of her hesitation, and she fled with
burning
cheeks. When she got back to the living room, both men were dressed and
Vanessa was parading before them.
"Oh! There you are!" exclaimed Vanessa. "I guess I've got to get
respectable, too. Looks like the games are over." She vanished into the
hall.
The conversation seemed strained to Helen. No one mentioned the orgy,
although she was certain it was uppermost in every mind. With each trivial
comment, she became less patient and more self-conscious. The vision of
her nude, spread-eagled body grew so vivid in her imagination that she
felt
she would see herself if she looked at the grating. And her memory of the
individual caresses she'd experienced were sharper in the quiet of
reflection than they'd been in the haze of her passion - so strong she was
afraid Barry and Art would see them in her eyes if she glanced at them.
When Vanessa returned, Helen mumbled apologies and urged Art to take her
home.
"We do have to get up early," she said, cringing in the expectation that
someone might wisecrack she'd only wanted to stay long enough for the sex.
But there was no such jibe, and Art sighed happily at her suggestion.
"Thanks for everything," he said to Vanessa. "Helen's right, though. Five-
thirty comes early, and I've go tot be out at that six-way interchange
first
thing in the morning. "See you both soon!'
In the car, he made no pretense about the way he felt. "Come on over
here," he said with a gentle growl. "What's the sense in having all that
empty space between us?" He held out his arm and she slid into it, tensing
for the follow-up she anticipated.
To her surprise, he merely held her, seemingly content to feel her
warmth at his side. And they were nearly home before he spoke again.
"I don't know what brought that business on tonight, sugar. Maybe I'm
not supposed to. But I could see it was costing you, and I think you were
something else! you showed guts, doll!"
"You're not disgusted with me?"
"That's the last word I'd think of using. It's at the wrong end of the
scale." After another silence, he asked, "Hey, where was that snotty kid-
sister of van's?"
"Olga?" Helen tried to recall Van's mentioning the girl, but without
success"I don't know, honey. Maybe she went home.'
"Naw. They'd have made a big deal of it last night." "Probably had a
date or something."
"Yeah, i guess. They sure didn't seem worried about her showing up
early, though."
Helen shuddered. "I'm glad I didn't remember her! I'd have been a
wreck!"
Art chuckled. 'That'll be the day! You being a wreck, I mean."
When they got into their own bedroom, Art went into the bathroom as
usual and Helen took advantage of the time to get ready for bed. And as
usual, when he came out, she was tucked securely under the covers. As he
had done the night before, however, Art appeared nude. He paused in the
bathroom doorway and gazed reflectively at her.
"Honey," he said at last. "Do me a favor?"
"What?"
"Come here."
She hesitated. Something about the light in his eye warned her he had
no interest in sleep. 'As if he'd come out here naked if he meant to
sleep,'
she commented to herself. "It's late, honey," she murmured.
Art grinned. "Come here, baby."
Reluctantly, she turned the covers back and sat up. Still reluctant, she
rose and went to him. "Art, I wish you wouldn't come out here like this.
It's
. . . " She stopped abruptly.
'I know," he replied. He took her in his arms and kissed her on the
mouth.
She stood stiffly in the circle of his arms and held her lips quiet
against his. KNowing how cold she would seem if she remained entirely
passive; she put her arms around his shoulders, her fingers on the back of
his neck. The scent of the masculine soap he used and the tangy odor of
his
cologne washed across her nostrils while the bristles on his neck pricked
her hands. His lean body was hard and warm against hers, slipping on the
nylon of her nightgown. She felt a stirring at h er belly and knew that
his
cock was rising.
A wave of hunger surged through her, taking her by surprise and
making her tighten her grip. Her body reacted as if her mental control
were
still under the paralysis of vodka. She crushed her mouth on his and
rolled
her head. her breasts flattened against his chest and she thrust her pussy
against the ridge of his upper thigh. Slowly and deliberately, she wiggled
her belly on his cock. Her hunger turned hot and raced back and forth
through
her.
Art squeezed her buttocks gently and she felt the hem of her
nightgown rising. Breaking free of the kiss, she protested. "No, Art!
Don't!"
"Easy, baby, easy." His tone was soft and soothing, but he had the
gown up to her hips and was continuing to lift it.
"Art! No! Don't do that!"
He let go of her nightgown and twisted free of her arms. Without
moving, he seemed to draw away, and she gazed numbly into an expression
more remote than she'd ever seen on his features.
"Art . . . " she whispered. "Art, honey?"
In as low, flat tone, he asked, "Want me to tie you up first? That the
idea?"
"Art! Oh, no, Art! Please don't ever say a thing like that again!" She'd
been so drunk . . . she'd been trying to shock him out of his sex thing .
. .
Vanessa had stampeded her . . . But she'd done it, nonetheless, and now
she
wouldn't. The worst thing of all was the way she'd let Barry treat her.
She
hadn't screamed or fought or cursed him; she'd wallowed on his hand and
his
mouth and then his cock like the most primitive slut in heat. She'd loved
it!
And Art had seen and known. 'What could he possibly think if I couldn't
do as
much - respond as hard - with him?' she asked herself. 'Reasons don't
count
. . . not when he's got pictures like that in his mind.'
She backed slowly away from her husband. At arm's length from him,
she reached down mechanically, arms crossed, and grasped the material of
her nightgown. Intensely conscious of the need for grace, she peeled the
garment from her body and over her head, tossing it toward the vanity
chair.
She ran her fingers through her auburn hair and shook her head as Vanessa
had done to fluff the thick masses into a cloud about her shoulders.
Gazing
into Art's sober eyes, she backed to the bed and lay back on it.
"All right," she whispered. And after a momentary silence, she
extended her arms above her head. "My legs, too?" she asked.
Art came to the side of the bed and stared at her. "Sugar, that's the
most beautiful body I've ever sen! Anywhere! Jesus, how much I've been
missing!"
'Beauty!' She struggled to adjust to the idea. She'd thought of
nakedness as dirty. Displaying the body was a wanton invitation to sex,
and
in a marriage - where sex belonged - invitations weren't needed or
desirable. But Art was talking about beauty, and at the moment the idea
seemed to have displaced sex in his thoughts. She was still acutely
conscious of his stare, though, and it still produced sharp tingles just
under
her skin. 'I want him!' she realized. 'I want him to make love to me! He
thinks my body's beautiful, and I want him to feel the beauty if it's
there.'
She raised her knees and thrust them apart. "Come here," she said
softly. She saw his eyelids flicker in disbelief, and she let the corners
of
her mouth quirk into a smile. "Come here, man." she repeated.
He grinned and knelt, one knee between her thighs, then bent over her
and sucked a nipple into his mouth. She held her breath, her hands holding
his face and her thighs clamped on his knee.
"Darling!" she whispered. Her desire had ballooned in the brief
moments of his touching her until it overwhelmed everything else. She
loved
Art and all the physical excitement and imaginative stimulation she'd
enjoyed earlier in the night coalesced around that love in a pounding
heady
ecstasy. She couldn't hold still. Her hands left his face and caressed the
sides of his body. She rubbed her legs on his. her hips twisted and her
shoulders flexed. And she moaned low and continuously.
Art lowered himself, guiding the nose of his cock into the embrace of
her labia, then thrust urgently, plunging it through her rim and into the
heart of her vagina. Clutching her to him, he rolled with her so he lay
on his
back and she lay astraddle his hips. He seized her buttocks and stroked
her
on his cock, jerking her entire body back and forth. Her breasts surged
on his
chest while his body hair harshly scrubbed her nipples. He pried her
asscheeks apart and fingered her rectum, dipping his finger into the
fluid at
her cunt and lubricating her with the juice.
"Art! Art, baby!" Helen crooned, abandoning herself to her most
sensuous longings. Her clitoris rode on the rocky base of her husband's
cock
and drove her into spasms of delight. She tightened her buttocks
convulsively when she felt his finger plunge into her rectum, and then a
new
wave of thrills forced her thighs to their widest angle and brought a deep
groan of pleasure from her throat.
"This where it's at, baby," Art muttered between grunts. "You being
all woman and me all man."
"Art, baby," she said with a hiss. "Fuck me!" She said it reverently,
using the words to seal a bond between them she hadn't been able to accept
before. With it, she promised him her hidden Helen.
He pounded her on his cock, his hips driving in opposition to her motion
until the convulsions of orgasm swept her and the heat of his cum seethed
in her belly.
"Ahhh!" She clenched her teeth, then opened her jaws wide. "Aghhh! . . .
Nnnh! . . . Yes, yes, yes!"
Her tension exploded and she writhed with the force of her
contractions. And even while she sobbed her pleasure at Art, the awesome
sensations faded and she began to go limp. She collapsed, muscle by
muscle,
lying quietly on her husband with the fullness of her cunt and her ass
still
the only firm realities in her universe.
"I love you, darling," she whispered.
"Yeah, sugar. I love you, too."
They clung to each other. Art reeking of satisfaction and she trying to
keep the memory of her great pleasure uppermost in her mind. His breathing
quieted and grew increasingly regular, until a faint snore told Helen he
slept. She squirmed cautiously off his cock and pulled the covers over
them.
After a long time, Art stirred and when he turned, she slipped off him and
settled onto the mattress. She stared at the ceiling, not caring that the
light was still burning, and let the night's events filter through her
mind.
In trying to change her husband, she'd changed herself. 'Not changed,
though,' she insisted silently. 'I can't pretend I don't know myself. I'm
what
I was before Grandma died.' She faced the fact bleakly. 'That's the me
I've
been trying to hide - no, to kill - all this time.' That was the lustful,
physical self, she decided; and she stripped away her old defenses to
weigh
her discovery. 'I can't be both. There can only be one, either the modest,
spiritual one or the lustful, wicked one. And Art wants me lustful.'
She watched a speck on the ceiling - an insect to small to identify -
make its way across the featureless surface, neither digressing nor
wandering from its straight line. 'It only goes one direction at a time,'
she
reflected. 'It knows where it's going - instinct maybe - and it goes. All
right! I know I want Art! I know what he wants me to be. So that's the me
I'm going to be.'
She slept, dreaming of her new role and waking often in a panic at the
nature of her dreams. When light came and she gave up further effort to
sleep, she wasted little time on introspection. She reiterated her
decision
and conceded the change would be difficult. She knew it herself; every
influence in her background had contributed to make her abhor halfway
measures or attitudes. Her entire mental foundation consisted of blocks
that were platitude and truisms. "There's no such thing as half right."
"If
you start to do something, do it all the way." "You can't live on both
sides of
the fence."
<< Danny Does Mom / Part 5a >>
Chapter 5
Danny refrained from teasing. He seemed competant in his
examination, using his fingers only to lay her pussy lups further open and to
explore the consistancy of each type of flesh he found, but even those
contacts acted as powerful stimuli. Helen gasped frequently and moaned
from time to time. By concentrating exclusivly on her hips, she kept them
still, but her belly writhed almost continuously.
At last her son straightened and gazed across her trembling body into
her eyes. "Okay, I guess I've got a good picture of the parts." he said. He
frowned as if trying to recall something. "Oh! I forgot!" He bent again and
put his fingers to her pussy.
She dragged in a huge lungful of air as she felt him pealing back the
fleshy hood over her clitoris. "AGHHH!" Her hips leaped.
Danny winced but continued his exploration, feeling the slopes and
rubbing the tip of the tiny lump.
"Ah! . . . Ah! . . . " Helen's hips writhed as she swung them from
side to side.
Danny took his hands away and straightened again. She saw beads of
perspiration on his upper lip and he wiped his forehead with the back of his
hand. "That was your clitoris, then," he said.
"Yes!" she panted. "I'm sorry I couldn't hold still. That's the most
sensitive spot a woman has, Son."
"It's okay. I could see it pretty good. It's awful little, though, isn't
it?"
"Yes. It does swell, though. It's like a man's penis."
"Yeah?" He glanced down at her pussy again. "Thanks, Mom. That gets
the old stuff out of the way."
"Old stuff?"
"Well, you know how they are in school. They do all the stuff they call
'basic' first. Like anatomy in this course. And then there's a lot of jazz
about how a baby develops and gets born. After that, they seperate the
class. Mr. Duffy's got us guys now: he's going into stuff about marriage
relations. I really need help seeing what he's getting at there!"
Helen stiffened. "Like what?" she demanded.
"Like stimulus centers and reactions."
She heaved a sigh of relief. She'd visualized his wanting to explore the
mechanics of insertion. "Well . . . " she hesitated. "That's going to be
tougher, Son."
"How come?"
She knew if she let him expiriment in the techniques of stimulation
she wasn't going to be able to maintain any semblance of calm. It was
barely possible she might lose control of herself, altogether, and grab him
in her passion. She couldn't let herself forget that strange inner excitement
she sometimes felt about him. On the other hand if it was legitimate for
him to examine her as he had, it was surely legitimate for him to see for
himself how various sensual centers could be used to affect the woman's
responses.
"Sexual stimulas afects involuntary nerves," she said slowly. "I know I
couldn't cooperate right. There's a natural efort sometimes to interfere -
the sensation's just too strong to take, even though it's wonderful."
Danny nodded, his face clouding with disappointment.
"Look, Danny," she said impulsively. "What time is it?"
He glanced at his watch. "Three."
"All right. There's time and there's a way. Run back to my room and get
two or three pairs of my nylons."
Danny scowled, perplexed, then shrugged and turned. Helen smiled
through her turmoil to note that he litterally ran. In a moment, he was back
with a handful of her stockings. He still showed no sign of understanding.
"I don't get it, Mom."
"I know. The problem is my being able to stay in one place so you can
keep at a spot long enough to find out what it does."
"Yeah," he nodded.
"There's only one way to be sure of that. Tie me in the right position."
His eyes widened and he stared at her incredulously. "Tie you!"
"It's all right. It won't hurt me, and you can go at whatever speed turns
out to be right. But you'll have to realize I'm going to act differantly from
what you've ever seen me do before."
"Okay. How shall I tie you?"
"Better get my hands out of the way, for one thing." She extended her
arms as if she meant for him to spread-eagle her.
Danny quickly lashed her wrists, securing the stockings from each to
one of the table legs. She trembled.
"We'll want to finish before five forty-five," she reminded him. "I
wnat to be presentable by the time your father gets home."
He stared at her. "That's a long time!"
"A lot more than you need. I just don't want you to get preoccupied and
forget what time it's getting to be."
"Okay!" There was awe in his tone. "Gee! I can really take my time!" He
looked hungrily at her breasts and she winced. "What next? I've got your
hands."
"Well, I'd certainly try to clamp my legs together."
"Oh! Okay!" He knotted a stocking around each of her thighs, at the
knee, and fastened the loose ends to the table legs, spreading her crotch
tautly. Without consulting her, he then used a third pair of her nylons,
looping them on her ankles, and to her amazement, runing the free ends to
her shoulders, where he tied each to an upper arm, pulling her heels against
the sides of her buttocks.
"Danny! My goodness!"
"Well, that'll keep you from moving your knees much."
She laughed shakily. "I can move my feet, though."
"How?"
She raised her feet and realized that there wasn't enough length in the
hose to let her move them more than a few inches. "I take it back," she
mumbled. "They aren't going anywhere."
"Do you mind if I talk to myself once in a while?" her son asked.
"No."
"What if I forget and use the wrong word?"
"There are no 'wrong words', Danny," she reassured him. "Only words
that are more appropriate at one time than another. Don't worry about it.
Just concentrate on one thing at a time."
He grinned and came to her side. "I know this isn't going to seem roght,
Mom, but Mr. Duffy said the lips were the first zone."
"Mmph! Well, all right."
He took her face between his hands and bent close, touching her lips
with his. The first contact was light and dry, no more erotic that their
customary goodnight kiss. But his lips worked on her and the pressure
increased and their mouths got wet. Her son's kiss was transformed by some
alchemy she made no effort to understand to that of a lover. Warmth seeped
through her and she let her lips part, touching his with her tongue tip. His
tongue darted out to meet hers and then drove into her mouth. She gulped
and began to suck. 'Like a symbol for a penis!' she thought. 'Even if it
is just his tongue in my mouth, he's got part of him inside me! My own son!'
The concious admission at a moment when sexual desire was making her writhe
horrified her. She tugged at the nylons and whimpered in her throat. She was
writhing sensually by the time Danny raised his mouth from hers.
"Wow!" he exclaimed. "That works!" He flushed. "On me, too."
She glanced at his trouser front and saw that it was tented.
'He's got a beautiful cock,' she thought. 'I know he has! It was
beautiful when he was little.' Pride surged in her and she had an irrisistable
longing to see what kind of a man her son was becoming.
"Danny, did Mr. Duffy say anything about visual stimulus?"
"Yeah. He said men got a lot more excited looking at things than most
women."
"That's true, I think. When a man's doing things to her, though, seeing
his body stimulates her."
"Yeah? It does? Hey, okay if I get undressed, then?"
"Yes." She tried to shake off the guilty feeling that washed over her.
Danny shed his clothes with adolescent awkwardness. She studied his
body. He had fine shoulders, as she already knew, and his belly was flat and
hard, more like a man's than a boy's. His hips were narrow and taut looking
and his cock stood proud and thick. Circumcised (because the doctor had
spoken of cleaning problems and the danger of infections), the head was a
great, meaty bulb, nearly black with its charge of trapped blood. The shaft
was frightening for its diameter; she guessed it was considerably thicker
than her wrist and knew it was far bigger than either Art's or Barry's.
That's his Indian half, she thought with a thrill of pride. But God,
could a woman really take that!
Danny returned and bent over her again. When he did his cock rested on
the edge of the table, rigid and hard-looking. He played with her breasts,
squeezing them gently, massaging them, and experimenting with her nipples.
She had no idea how much of her resulting excitement resulted from his
manipulations and how much from her painful awareness of the situation.
Regardless, desire flamed in her and she lashed about on the table, her hips
rocking fom side to side and her pussy pulsing with eagerness.
Danny ran his hands over her body, fingering her curves with a smile
on his lips. "Duffy says ther's lots of secondary centers all over the body,"
he remarked. "Someday I'll learn more about them on you. Right now, I want
to be sure I see what the primary ones do." He went back to her crotch.
He caressed her pussy lips gently, the light touch shooting fierce
waves of pleasure through her and producing vigerous undulations in her hips.
She moaned happily. "Oooh, that feels good, Son! Mmmm!"
He ran a fingertip around the rim of her opening and she grabbed a
taut stocking in each hand and pulled furiously.
"Oh! . . . " she gasped. "Oh, Danny!"
His fingers left her for an instant, and then she felt them stripping
back the hood pf her clitoris.
"Mmmm!" She bucked violently. "Aghhh!"
He coated the tiny organ with thick juice from her vagina and began to
rub it. She lost all control of her actions, thrashing in her bonds and
moaning loudly. The pleasure that flooded her was so intense it hurt, and a
vast hunger grew in the mouth of her pussy. While Danny continued to
massage her clitoris with the finger of one hand, those of the other hand
returned to her labia.
"Don't get mad, Mom, but . . . Well, this was one of the centers." He
slipped a finger up into her, twisting it back and forth and jabbing it in and
out.
"Ohhh! . . . Ahhh! . . . I'm not . . . mad! . . . It is one! . . . Oh,
Danny! . . . Son! . . . Ram it hard!"
He jammed the finger in to it's knuckle.
"Use . . . use two! . . . Maybe three! . . . Omigod, Son! . . . Ooooh! .
. .
She felt a great increase in fullness and knew Danny had inserted
more fingers. She slammed herself onto his hand repeatedly, her pleasure
driving her past caring how she looked to him. She became aware of slippery
strokes over her rectum.
"What's . . . that?" she panted.
"My thumb, Mom."
"Oh."
His thumb paused over her tightly closed anus and pushed. She felt her
sphincter stretching to admit it and tilted her head back.
"DANNY! . . . AGHHH! . . . " She cried out and let her ass flail on
the hugeness of his buried thumb. "My God, Son! Omigod!"
"I got stuff up your vagina and your ass, Mom." His voice sounded
horse to her. "It sure makes you move around!"
"God, yes! It's going to make me have an orgasm!"
"Yeah? Really?"
"MMM! . . . Yes! . . . "
"Mom, he said the biggest stimulus of all was . . . well . . . "
She gazed groggiliy at her son. He stood erect, both hands hidden
behind the forest of pubic her hair, his enormous cock jutting over her. The
shaft pulsed and there was a strand of clear mucus dangling from the slit in
the angry-looking head. His pubic hair was black and thick and she recalled
with a shiver the great size of his balls. Suddenly she realized what he was
hinting.
"No, Danny! Not that! No, for God's sake!" But why not? she asked
herself in a flash of recklessness. Why not? That's part of it! "All right,
Danny! He's right!" she conceaded. "Go ahead!"
Danny trembled violently as he withdrew his hands. He seized the huge
shaft and guided the head down to her cuntmouth. His face expressed wonder
as his heat and hers mingled and she began to open to his pressure. She felt
the head sink through the firm rim of her labia and glide slowly up the
length of her vagina, that hard shaft stroking inward after it.
She thrust herself onto the intruding prick, her buttocks quivering
and tight and her belly hard.
"Ahhh!" She bubbled with joy. "Ahhh!"
At her first movement her sons hips surged forward to drive his prick
to its limit in her and his pelvic bone slammed onto the outer flesh of her
pussy. He jerked his hips back, withdrwing the buried cock until the head lay
just inside her labia, then rammed it home again. She cried out and flung
herself onto the driving prick. Her son's thrusts accelerated and he banged
violently at her.
"Mom! Mom! I can't stop!" A deep note of panic rang in his voice and he
had an anguished expression on his face. "Mom! I didn't mean to! I just
wanted to see what it did to you! I didn't mean to fuck you all the way!"
She saw the depth of his distress and urged him. She soothed him with
a gentle urgency. "It's all right, darling! It's all right! Fuck me, darling!
Go ahead and fuck me! It's all right, Son!"
His cock slammed back and forth savagely and her cunt flamed. She
felt as if the shaft were crushing her tissues against the bony circle of her
pelvis and his cockhead were displacing all her organs. His anguish had
cleared, replaced by ecstacy, and his hands kneaded her waist and pulled her
buttocks against his thighs.
"Yes, yes, darling!" she panted.
"Mom! I'm gonna . . .
"It's okay, honey. Let it happen."
"Mom! . . . Mom! . . . ," he croked with excitment. Then, with a note of
triumph, "Here it comes! . . . Unnnh! . . . "
His cock shaft pulsed sharply and hot jism seethed into her vagina,
filling her belly with foreign heat. She clamped the rim of her cunt on his
cock, squeezing with hard contractions and praying for her own orgasm.
Danny broke into convulsive tremors and the great cock went limp and soft.
He pulled it out instantly, great drops of sweat pouring from him.
"Mom!" he murmured brokenly and came around the table to hold her
face. "Oh, Mom, I'm sorry!"
"Danny, baby," she whispered. "Oh, Danny! How did it feel, Son?"
"Jesus, Mom! Like nothing I ever felt before!" He grinned bashfully. "You
got awful excited, didn't you."
I still am! she thought. She nodded and smiled. "You found all the spots,
Son. There's still a lot to learn, though."
"There is?"
"Yes. Maybe I'd better teach you while all this is fresh in your mind."
"Would you, Mom?"
"Yes. You might as well untie me now."
"You know? That was kind of fun. Having you tied up, I mean. I like
that."
"Well, maybe I'll let you do it again sometime."
"Oh, Mom! Would you! Please?"
"Yes."
"Promise?"
She laughed and hard thrill raced through her. "I promise."
"Wow!" Danny shouted.
He untied her quickly, and she went back to the bathroom, where she
douched and washed. As an afterthought, she sprayed herself with her best
cologne. When she returned to the front of the house, Danny was sprawled in
an armchair in the livingroom. He glanced up at her entry, astounded at her
continued nakedness.
"Time for more of the lesson," she said with mock formality.
"What are you going to teach me now?"
"Let's demonstrate instead of talk. Okay?"
"Sure."
<< Danny Does Mom / Part 5b >>
Chapter 5
She stretched herself along his body, straddling one of his thighs to
let its hardness ease the hunger of her pussy and putting her arms around
him. "Kiss me again, Son."
Their lips locked and her tongue probed for his. He explored her
throat with his tongue tip and she writhed on him, her breasts scrubbing
the sparse hair on his chest, her cunt grinding on his thigh. When she
drew
back to look at his face through a film of happy tears, she knew he was no
longer fooled by the academic pretense.
When he spoke, his voice had a tone of new maturity. "Mom," he said
very softly. "You just want to fuck with me, don't you."
She cringed. "Yes," she whispered. "I didn't until it happened, but I do
now. Besides, there really are a lot of things you don't know yet."
"Yeah." He kneaded her ass and sighed. "I've dreamed I was fucking
you lots of times. It never did turn out like today." A faraway look of
bliss
stole into his eyes. "Never wild like that was, Mom the second I stuck my
cock into you I knew I couldn't stop. I knew I had to go all the way!"
"I know."
The telephone rang. Helen groaned and scrambled off her son. "Why
don't you get it, honey? You've got to get your blood circulating again."
"Okay," he grinned, laying a hand on her belly for a moment before
leaving her. In a moment, he was back. "Dad," he said. "Says there's an
emergency meeting of the State highway engineers tonight. He called to
say he'll be home the middle of tomorrow morning."
"Oh, dear!" she wailed.
Danny grinned. "Hey, Mom! We can play a lot! Okay?"
She realized how such a suggestion would have horrified her two
hours earlier. "A regular orgy, you mean," she said dryly.
Danny grinned and ducked his head. "I guess so. All kinds of games."
"Yes. I guess we can do that."
"Wow! Gee, thanks, Mom!" He grabbed her, pulling her to him and
rubbing his body against her breasts. He slid his hand down her side to
her
hip, then around between her thighs to clutch at her pussy. She squirmed,
but his other arm was like a bar across the small of her back, and he dug
his fingers deeply into her, raising her feet from the floor. "This is
fun,
Mom! I like playing with you like this!"
Savage lust roared in her and she clung to him. "I like it too!" she
said in a strangled tone.
"Hey, Mom, is it true animals and people fuck sometimes?"
"Danny! How should I know?"
"I mean, would it be possible?"
The pressure of his hand in her vagina burned wariness out of her.
"Why not. Male animals have penises and get erections, just like men do.
Females have . . vaginas."
"Yeah, I guess so. I heard someone talking about it. Mom? . . . "
"Yes?"
"Mom, I'd sure like to see that once."
"Ugh! I don't know where you'd find an animal that would do it!"
"I mean a male animal and a woman."
"That's even more unlikely! You'd never find a woman who'd do that
for you!" She sighed and pressed her thighs together on his hand, then
grinned broadly. "Other women aren't going to do weird things for you like
I am."
"But you would, wouldn't you?"
"What?"
"You'd let an animal fuck you so I could see how it worked, wouldn't
you?"
"Danny!"
"Wouldn't you, Mom? Just for me?"
That was a safe commitment, she decided. She'd never have to honor
it. He never would find an animal trained that way. "Yes. I guess I would,
Son. I'm afraid you'd have a hard time finding an animal that
accomodating,
though."
"No, Mom! I don't think so!"
She laughed contentedly and hugged him. 'Let him have his fantasies,'
she thought. 'Tonight, I've got him.'
"Smokey, Mom!" Danny set her on her feet, his hand still firmly
locked in her cunt.
She leaned back and gazed into his ernest eyes, shaking her head.
"Smokey wouldn't touch a woman, Son. He doesn't know anything about
those things. Why, he's never even had a lady donkey!"
"He knows all about hard-ons," Danny insisted. "He's been going
around with one half the time this week."
"He has? I didn't notice."
"That's because you don't see him often.'
"Having an erection isn't having sex with a woman, Son. I'm afraid
that just isn't practical."
"We could at least try!" He sounded irritated and hurt. "You just don't
want to. You just said you would without meaning it."
"Danny, I meant it!" 'Damn it, I really didn't! But I'm not going to
admit that. Besides, what's the harm in trying? Smokey's not going to do
anything but try to hide.'
"Okay! Come on, then!" Her son pulled his hand out of her throbbing
pussy and dragged her toward the back of the house. "Let's try, Mom. Just
once."
"It's broad daylight, Danny! We can't go out naked like this!"
"Nobody can see us! Not the way you and Dad have the place screened
off!"
Convincing or not, he was stronger than she. He gripped her wrist
firmly and dragged her with him. They crossed the yard and ducked through
the hedge into Smokey's compound. Danny led her into the donkey's corral.
"You better use the feed table," he said.
Helen hesitated, surveying the table her husband had insisted on to
keep the hay off the ground. It did look the right height, coming almost
exactly to the level of the furry little beast's belly. At the moment
there
was a thick layer of sweet smelling hay on it and Smokey was wandering
about disconsolately, his cock projecting from its sheath, rigid and angry
red.
"Good heavens! I see what you mean about erections!" she exclaimed.
Danny urged her across the corral to the feed table. "Just bend over
it, I guess." he said.
Reluctantly she bent forward and lay on her belly on the table, her
feet on the pulverized ground. The hay pricked her flesh, but it smelled
so
sweet and provided such a pleasent cushion she didn't object. Danny began
to tie a tag end of frayed rope around her left wrist.
"Danny! What's the big idea?"
He smiled apologetically. "He's going to have enough to get used to
without worrying about where you're going. You said so yourself in the
dining room."
"Oh, all right." She knew it gave her son an enormous erotic thrill to
see her helpless, and it wasn't going to hurt her. She let him knot the
loops
around both wrists and waited to see how he ment to position her. He
pulled her forward on the tablre until her breasts cleared the forward
edge and her thighs pressed against the opposite side. 'I don't know why
we call it a table,' she thought, 'squirming uncomfortably. It's nothing
but
a two-by-twelve.'
Danny groaned. "You can't do it like that," he said. "That's no good."
And then, excitedly, "I know. Mom! Wait!" He raced to the shelter and
brought back the tattered old saddle. Helping his mother to her feet, he
flung the saddle onto the table, where it appeared to fit as well as it
did
on Smokey. "Now! Lie over that!"
She lowered her belly onto the saddle, lying precariously across it.
Danny tied loops to her ankles, ignoring her hands, and pulled her legs
apart to an impossible angle, securing her feet to the table supports.
Grasping her waist, he slid her forward so the saddle was under her hips
and lower belly, her torso hanging over the other side and her ass in the
air. She struggled, but he seized the rope fragments that dangled from her
wrists and quickly lashed her wrists to her ankles.
"My God, Danny! Not this way!" She tried to imagine how her cunt
must be gaping.
"Mom! This is the greatest! Wow, what a playground!" He ran his hand
over her back and onto ther ass. "You'd make a great toy!"
"Oh, sure!" She stared at the way her hair swept the ground,
shimmering auburn strands brushing dung-rich, dark earth, and looked past
her legs at Smokey, still shuffling around the corral with his engorged
hard-on bobbing. 'It's a good thing he's not going to know what to do,'
she
thought with a shudder. 'That thing's so big it would split me right down
the middle! But God, how it would feel going in!'
Danny acted as if he'd momentarily forgottewn the donkey. He
squatted at her head, reaching around her with both hands to fondle her
breasts. "I like the way your tits hang when you're like this, Mom." He
chuckled suddenly. "I think I'll milk you!" He repositioned his fingers
and
began to milk, using the techniquue he'd briefly practiced at a goat farm
his school class had visited.
Helen cried out in a burst of excitement. The strange, rolling
pressure made her boobs feel as if they were swelling, and her nipples
stretched to generate a wild kind of sensation throughout her body. She
felt a rush of heat into the dangling tips of her breasts, precisely as if
there were milk rushing to be squirted out.
"Danny! My God, Danny baby! You're making an animal out of me!" Her
snatch throbbed and fingers of fiery excitement raced over her. "Oh, Son!"
He continued to milk her until she was thrashing violently on the
saddle, the ropes biting viciously into her wrists and ankles. She knew
nothing had ever produced even a similar sensation in her breasts.
"Ohhhh! .
. . Danny, you could make me cum doing that!"
"Yeah? You really mean that? Hey, I'm going to, sometime! Know
what? I haven't seen you cum yet!"
"No," she gasped, sensing she was nearer an orgasm than at any
previous time during the day.
"Mom, a woman can cum one time right after another, can't she?"
"Well . . . " she hesitated. "Sometimes."
"Bitchin'! How many times?"
"I don't know." The sensation in her breasts had spread until her
whole body felt as if it were being milked. She threw her head up and
clenched her teeth, feeling a great churning in her belly. Her head roared
and spots danced before her eyes. She would cum now if she weren't
careful. She dropped her hesad and tilted it to watch her son's hands. The
sight of the strong fingers rolling the flesh of her breasts and crushing
her quivering nipples sent a powerful mental stimulas through her. She
strained her buttocks apart, then clamped them. A fierce conmtraction
snapped her cuntmouth and raced inward along her barrel, with another nad
another behind it. She went rigid, forcing her limbs straight and arching
her back. Her mouth opened wide, a deep, undulating groan pouring out.
Tremors shook her and she knew only that she was lost in a sea of
exqusite pleasure.
"Aghhhh! . . . Nnnng! . . . Danny, Danny, Danny!"
"Mom! MOM! You are! You're cumming! Jesus you're beautiful when you
cum, Mom!"
Her contraction ceased and she fell limp, hanging breathlessly. Her
son stroked her aching tits and ran his hands onto her belly. She felt
something at her twat.
"Danny?" She struggled for air. "Danny, what's that at my crotch?"
"At your pussy, Mom? Hey! That's Smokey! He really digs the smell of
pussy-juice!" Dan sparng to his feet and leaned over her.
She felt Smokey's wet nose rooting among her inflamed tissues and
then something hot and rough stroking them.
"Mom! He's licking you! He acts like he's eating all that stuff!"
She shuddered and moaned, her diminishing passion bounding into
full bloom again. Her hips rocked and she saw her hair swishing in the
dirt.
The broad tongue reached her cuntmouth and jabbed at it.
"Hey, Mom! Oh, Jesus! He's sticking his tongue down your cunt! Mom,
he's going all the way in with it!"
The supple blade penetrated the length of her passage, snaking
among the inner folds and scrubbing them. Her belly writhed and her ass
leaped. She was in a frenzy, uncertain wether she was coming or not.
"Danny, baby! My God, he's eating me from the inside out!"
She felt the tongue leave her as quickly as it had entered.
"Boy, is he hot!" Danny exclaimed. "Mom, you ought to see the way
he's humping! Just like he already had that cock in something! Hey! He's
going to try!"
"OH, NO! No, Son! Don't let him!" She jerked at the ropes frantically.
"Oh, please!"
"Mom, that's what we're out here for! Mom, he is! He's going to fuck
you!"
Her vagina puckered with her sudden fright. Looking under the wide,
inverted vee of her legs she could see the agitated donkey. His cock
looked
more formidable than before, and while she stared in fascination, she saw
him rear on his hind legs and prance toward her. She bit her lips and
waited.
"I won't let him put his hooves on you, Mom." Danny panted audibly
and she guessed he was forcing the donkey's forefeet apart.
In a moment, she knew she was right. She felt the hard feet agaist
her sides, slipping toward her chest. And she felt a great, hard point
touch
her twat, perfectly centered.
"You guided his penis, Danny," she said accusingly.
"Sure! Wouldn't want him in your ass, would you?"
The point jabbed repeatedly,
Art had a really good sized cock that filled her deliciously. Barry
was a little larger than Art, a really snug fit in her pussy. Danny's cock
was huge, but Smokey's shaft was monsterous and she felt her cunt
stretch impossibly to engulf it. A deep, joy-choked groan was wrenched
from her as the giant cock sank home. It filled her belly and made her
taste iron. Smokey scrambled with his forefeet and lodged them agaist
projections on the saddle. She felt his cock pumping in her like a
monstrous piston, and her lust rocketed.
"He is, he is!" she yelled. "Danny! He's fucking me!"
"Oh, Jesus, Mom! He must be stretching you inside! He's got almost
his whole dong in!"
She was able to see that his belly was within an inch of her pussy.
And she could see his balls swing with the force of his lunges as he
jerked
his cock back and then drove it deeper into her in a terrifying succession
of strokes. She was half-hypnotized by the contrast between her smoothly
tapered, pale thighs and the donkey's shaggy, grotesque legs. She held her
breath while his black belly slammed closer and closer to her twat and
suddenly she felt his impact in her outer flesh as well as the depths of
her
belly. His hair was wire-stiff, and it stabbed a thousand pinholes in her
ass. His cock stretched her so wide there was no room for further
distension or for her over-taut rim to adapt and lose the shasrp edge of
the entering sensation. She jerked at her wrist ropes in time to the
donkey's brutal rhythm, humping her body to meet his great thrusts. And
she flung her head from side to side, biting at her shoulders in a frenzy
of
lust.
Agonizing contractions seized her twat, tightening it on Smokey's
surging prick so hard she thought she'd rupture. "Honey!" she shouted.
"Darling! I'm coming again!" She stiffened, absorbing the donkey's blows
without any possibility of defense. "I'm coming! Oh, God, am I coming!
EEEYAGHHH!"
At the height of her orgasm, she knew her vaginal walls were
milking the tremendous cock. She felt the donkey rest his weight on her
ass, his cock driven full length in her and quivering mightily. There was
a
great eruption of heat at the core of her belly and she saw her flesh
balloon with the charge.
"He's coming! He's coming!" shouted Danny. "Mom! You ought to see
him! Like he won the grand prize! Oh,Mom! Both of you!"
Although already buried to the hilt the donkey humped against her
again and again. And with each lunge a huge swoosh of his cum was forced
out of her overloaded pussy. She watched the cum dribble down her thighs
and run down his swinging balls to be flicked off as he lunged again.
The donkey sagged on her and she collapsed over the saddle, helpless
to extricate herself or expel the prick that impaled her. She felt giddy
and
weak, but she was concious of a perverse pride in the fact that she'd been
able to take the donkey's cock. She was strangly self-satisfied, too, that
she'd been able to accept him well enough to react and to reach a climax.
That she'd been good enough to make him come was her crowing
achievment.
"Oh, Mom! That was something I'll never forget! I wish I'd had the
video camera out here!"
"Danny Fredericson! Danny! You don't wish any such thing! You mention
that camera again and you never will get to tie me up!"
"Aw, Mom!"
"I don't care! Just think what would happen if someone saw a movie
of this!"
"Yeah, I guess so. Hey, Mom, Smokey's getting ready to get off!"
"You help him. I don't want him kicking me." There was an intense
struggle. The donkey's cock hadn't shrunk sufficiently to come out without
considerable tugging and his balance was poor. But with Danny's help
Smokey was finally able to dismount Helen. She sighed deeply and let
herself relax again.
"Now you can get me off here," she told Danny.
"Aw, Mom! Not yet."
"Now, son."
"Naw, I've just got to do something. I'm ready to explode!"
"Danny!" she raged.
But she felt his hands on her buttocks, caressing them gently and
squeezing them from time to time. She was furious at herself when she
discovered herself humping with pleasure. It was bad enough to be defied;
it was inexcusable to respond this way to her son's defiance. She made a
sound that was half laugh and half sob.
"Goddamn it, honey! You're terrible!"
Danny laughed sympathetically. "I can't help it, Mom! Seeing you like
this I can't help myself. Know what? I'm going to fuck you before I let
you
loose!"
"Oh, Danny! Not like this!"
"Like this." His fingers dipped into her twat and proded the swollen
lips of her pussy. He dragged his hands between her buttocks and thrust
them repeatedly into her ass. She bounced with helpless desire. She knew
she wanted him in her, no matter how grotesque her position.
"Danny?"
"Huh?"
"I want you to. I want you to, Son!"
He said, "This is going to be something else!"
She watched his feet as he stepped into the table, straddling her. He
squatted and she supposed he was trying to decide how to make his cock
point the right direction. He removed her speculation.
"I've got to work at it this time." He panted. "What I'm doing is
bending my cock down so I can poke it in you. Almost right. There!"
She felt his bulb at her rectum.
"I'm going to fuck you in the ass, Mom."
"No you're not, Danny! Danny! No! Don't . . . UNNNH! . . . Omigod,
Danny!"
His cock had forced her sphincter until the great head had surged
through. Now there seemed to be no end to the shaft as it plunged into her
gut. She felt his balls press against his pussy and the bristles of his
pubic
hair mat around her tortured asshole. He began to stroke.
"Dan, Dan!" she groaned. "Oh, Dan, I'm awful! I love it!"
"God you're tight, Mom! Oh, God, Mom! I'm going to come just as fast
as I did when you were on the table!"
He bounced on her ass, driving the breath from her in deep grunts and
arousing her to a wild pitch of passion. She felt his fingers bite into
her
waist and his balls knock against her cunt. And suddenly he stopped
bouncing.
"Ohhh!" he moaned as if in pain.
"Son! Danny! Are you all right?"
"It's coming out! Mom, I'm coming!" He setteled on her and she felt a
brutal force on her ass. She saw his feet leave the ground and extend
behind her. She knew he was balancing his entire weight on the base of his
cock while he spewed his jism into her intestine.
"Ahhh . . . " She sighed with pleasure, feeling every subtelty of his
actions. She decide there might be an advantage not to reach her orgasm
every time; climactic sensations could mask the finer details of her
partner's cumming. She felt her son's cock swell with abrupt jerks as the
heat spurted from it, and his balls twitched upward through her pubic hair
and over her labia with each spurt. She heard his laboured breathing and
its rasping iregularity. And her gut filled for the second time in that
position with a pool of hot cum. Dan rocked for a time before his body
began to loosen. At last, he pushed himself off her and stood on the
ground.
"Honey," she said, her voice muffeled. "Get me down now, before
Smokey decides to come back for seconds."
Danny laughed nervously. "Mom, if I thought he would, I'd keep you
right where you are."
"DANNY!"
"Aw, don't worry. He won't. He's had it." Danny untied her arms first,
and when he loosened the second ankle, she slid head-first into the dirt.
She lay in a heap waiting for her circulation to return, and Danny
crouched
beside her, massaging her limbs.
When the agony of renewed circulation subsided, she let him help her
to her feet. "Come on back in the house, Son," she urged.
"Okay."
In the house, she realized it was past five. Danny seemed reluctant
to take time out for supper, but she insisted.
"We'll both need all our strength," she suggested. "That is, unless
you've had enough."
"We don't have to quit, do we Mom? We can fuck some more after
supper, can't we?"
"Yes."
"All night, maybe?"
She laughed. "We'll see."
"That means you don't think we will."
"Honey, you're welcome to try as long as you can hold out. I promise."
<< Danny Does Mom / Part 6 >>
Chapter 6
Danny objected to her dressing for supper. He showed no reluctance
to putting his own clothes on, but he wanted her to remain nude.
"Honey, I'm not going to work in the kitchen naked. That's all there is
to it."
"Aw, Mom! Well, at least you don't have to wear anything but pants
and bra."
"Well . . . " She giggled at his determination. "All right, hon. We'll
compromise."
"I'll go get them for you."
"Oh, all right." She waited, relieved to be alone for a few moments. It
was a shock to discover how much desire still burned in her. She realized
she was eager for her son to return - that she fiercely wanted him to
stare at h er naked body again.
When Dan came back with her panties and bra, he took her in his
arms before giving them to her. He kissed her tenderly, then turned her so
her side was against him and ran his hand lovingly over her front. She
thrust out her belly and squirmed at the feel of his fingers. He caressed
her tits and rubbed her belly. And when his hand slid over her pubic hair
and between her thighs she thrust her knees apart and ground her hips in
circles.
"Good," she whispered. "Oh, but I like that, Son!"
He released her at last after he had her quivering and mumbling to
herself. She took the wispy garments from him and laughed.
"How did you know I had these? Why, I've never had them on!"
He grinned as she held up the panties. "I was looking for the ones
with the least material," he admitted. "Those were at the back of the
drawer, that's all."
"They're hardly pants at all, Danny!"
"But they are, and I brought them. So that's what you wear. You
promised."
"Your father ordered them out of a catalog," she said. "And he was
furious when I wouldn't wear them!" She laid the bra aside and stepped
into the panties. They did fit, although they were snug. But as she pulled
them up her thighs she discovered a feature she hadn't noticed before;
there was a long slit in the crotch. "Oh, Christ!" she exploded.
"Now what?" Danny asked.
"Never mind!" She snugged the panties on her hips, shuddering at the
effect. Even Danny appeared to be shaken, she noticed.
The panties crossed her belly so low that a handful of pubic hair lay
exposed above them. The rest of her dark red thatch protruded through the
loose net. And the crotch hugged the lips of her pussy without a thread to
spare. Four inches at either hip was simply a narrow strip of elastic. She
instinctively placed her hand over her twat.
"What was it you said 'oh, Christ!' about?" asked Danny. "Come on,
Mom, tell me!"
"Oh, all right. There's a big long slit in the crotch."
"Hey! You mean they're made for screwing? You can get screwed
without even taking them off?"
She nodded. "Honestly!"
"Hey, let me see, Mom! Huh?"
"For heaven's sake! No!"
"Aw, please! Please?"
"After supper, I guess."
"Well, okay I guess. But I can feel." He grabbed her before she
realized his intention and pinned her arms behind her. Dragging her arms
back and down, he forced her to bend her knees and spread them, and he
thrust a finger through the slit and into her cunt.
Helen writhed on his finger, supper forgotten. 'God, I'm hot!' she
thought. 'I'm ready to explode the instant he touches me!' But her son
released her, caressing one of her tits for a moment before stepping back.
She panted, standing motionless, then reached for the bra. "This is
just as bad," she muttered. She put it on, the half-cups lifting her boobs
and making the upper slopes bulge while her nipples stood in the open.
"Man, that looks great! I thought that's what that thing was!" Dan
leered at her.
"You're impossible!" she exclaimed. "I raised a sex fiend!"
"Mom, let's eat quick. You were going to teach me some more, and
then we took time out for Smokey. I'm awful anxious."
She glanced respectfully at his erect young cock. "You look like it.
All right, we'll hurry."
She found it impossible to know what they were eating when they
finally sat down. She was too keenly aware of her near nakedness and
Danny's frank concentration on her puckered nipples. Her pussy twitched
incessantly and she could feel the wetness that had soaked the crotch of
her panties. Her son wolfed his food, clearly paying as little attention
to
it as she. He spoke only once during the meal.
"You know, Mom? That sister of Vanessa's. I hate her. She's a snob.
But I bet she fucks great! If I had my druthers, though, I'd like to
spend a
day with Vanessa like this one with you."
"Watch it, Dan. What we're doing today is fun. I like it. But it's still
teaching, not a way to get you started making out with every woman you
meet."
"But we're not going to stop just as soon as we're through learning,
are we? Are we, Mom?"
She laughed. "I don't know. The way I feel right now, we could keep
going forever. But I think I've gone a little crazy. It's going to
depend."
"On what?"
"On things that wouldn't even occur to us now."
Dan finished his food and carried the dishes to the kitchen.. He came
back and surveyed her plate. "You going to eat the rest of that?"
She hesitated. "No. I've had enough."
"Okay." He snatched her dishes from the table and disappeared with
them. He returned while Helen was still pushing her chair back.
She rose, aware of the fact that her son was hovering over her. He
seized her and swung her from the floor.
"Danny! What . . . ?"
He sat her on the edge of the table and pushed her onto her back.
"Danny! Stop it! What's going on?"
He forced her knees apart and elevated them. "I'm going to look at
those pants. You said I could after supper.
"Good God!" she exclaimed.
He placed her feet against his shoulders and leaned over her,
pressing her knees back to her chest. He felt the crotch of her panties,
pulling the slit open with his thumbs and inserting both thumbs
immediately into her pussy. She gasped and her feet slid over his
shoulders. He grasped her hips and held them still, thrusting his cock
against her. She twisted, but with a single smooth surge, he drove his
cock
fully into her, its base slamming solidly on her pussy.
"Ahhh!" she whispered. "Danny . . . oh, Danny . . . why does it make me
want you so much when you do this?"
He shook his head. "Am I supposed to know?"
"Of course not! Just fuck me, baby!"
"I already know about that. Is there something I don't know about?"
"A lot, I suppose. All right. Pull it out while I can still think."
As Danny pulled out and backed away, lowering her legs, he drew her
panties off. She sat up and removed the bra.
"Ready," she said.
"Can we do it in my room, Mom?" he smiled uncertainly.
"Yes. I guess so."
She followed him into his room, where she paused to reminisce for a
moment. The shelves Art had put up for her son's model airplanes were
still loaded with the dusty little relics. Dan's baseball bats stood in
one
corner, neglected for the past four years, and his splintered hockey
sticks
leaned in another. Those were idle only because they were too worn to use,
she thought. It was probably a typical boy's room, littered with the
accouterments of growing up, including yesterday's laundry scattered
across the floor. Danny flung himself on his bed and stared at his mother,
his gaze fixed on her pubic hair.
"Okay?" he asked.
"Okay," She approached the bed, eyeing his cock.
It lay at an angle on his belly, it's underside exposed. His pubic hair
was still thin, but it curled tightly and was so black it looked like a
solid
mat. His balls lay in the though formed by his thighs, and the skin of his
scrotum held them firmly. His cock was a dark cylinder against his
coppery belly, and the head gleamed wetly, mute evidence of his readiness.
Helen felt a fierce pride in her son. She felt another emotion as she
stood over him, and it drew her onto the narrow bed with him. She
stretched out with her knees beside his head and rested her breasts on his
belly.With one manicured fingertip, she stroked the shiny cockhead. The
shaft twitched and his balls moved, pulled by a sudden tensing of the sac.
She moved her finger in small circles on the bulge, feeling a tingle of
excitement over the wet slipperiness. Her jaw ached and her mouth
puckered.
'Damn it!' she thought. 'I watched Vanessa do it! I can do anything she
can!' She lowered her head and touched her lips to the wetness. She held
them there for a moment, then drew back. Closing her hand around the
shaft of Danny's cock, she touched her lips with her tongue. The metallic
flavor made her gasp with desire, and she thrust her mouth against the
cockhead again. She kissed it avidly, her tongue darting between her lips
repeatedly to savor the pungent coating on it.
Danny caught her near knee and drew her thigh across his chest,
exposing her pussy to his gaze. She felt fingers force her labia and she
undulated her hips with pleasure. But she pressed her lips harder on the
firm cock. She slid her lips onto it, making a circle of them to gird it
and
suck at the seeping slit. Danny's balls jerked and he drew one foot toward
his butt.
"Mom?"
"Hmm?"
"Mom, that feels bitchin'! Do you like to do it!"
"I want to right now, Danny." She quickly placed her mouth over the
cockhead again. Opening her mouth widely, she forced it over the broad
slopes and gulped the knob. Danny's shaft was too bulky to permit any but
the slightest relaxation of her jaw, and she was worried that she might
bite down. She sucked, swallowing occasionally to clear her throat of the
slow trickle of liquid. She remembered the way Vanessa had stroked her
lips up and down Art's shaft and tried to do the same for Danny. The nose
of his cock bumped the back of her throat almost at once, and she resigned
herself to sucking, her tongue probing continuously at the hot flesh.
Danny's hips rose and fell and his hand twisted about in her cunt. His
trembling convinced Helen that her son was unlikely to let her prolong her
experiment very much. She raised her head, letting the heavy bulb free.
"Danny, honey?"
"Mmph! Yeah?"
"Did that feel good? You want me to suck some more?"
"Wow! Yeah! Would you?"
"Yes. But we're going to change positions."
"What do you want me to do?"
"Move over."
Danny moved and Helen stretched out beside him on her back.
"Now get on your knees and straddle my head," she directed. When
Danny's balls hung over her face, she spread her thighs widely. "Hands and
knees," she said.
He dropped to all fours. His cock touched her throat, and she
maneuvered it until she could get the head into her mouth again. She
caressed his balls while she sucked on his cock, and he groaned happily.
"You're making me come," he said in a strained tone. "You mind that?"
'I want it!' she thought. 'That's exactly what I want!' She refused to
release the previous mouthful; she merely sucked harder and caressed the
tip with the back of her tongue.
Danny seized her hips, his hands circling them and settling under her
buttocks. He lifted her ass and tilted her twat up, then grabbed her
clitoris in his mouth. Her pleasure was intolerable. She lashed her feet
and
clutched at his ass. His belly quivered and he slid his knees apart,
pushing
down on his cock. There was a sudden spasm in his shaft and warm, thick
jism flooded his mother's mouth. She gulped, frantically aware that the
spurting cum was filling her faster than she could pump it to her stomach.
She dug her nails into his ass and stiffened. Her only movement was
her sucking and frenzied swallowing and a slow undulation of her hips. She
felt liquid escape at the corners of her mouth and groaned inwardly. 'All
of
it!' she demanded silently of herself. 'Every drop, damn it!'
Her son shuddered and his cock began to soften. She drained it of the
last thread of semen and let him lift it from her. Her own orgasm spent
itself and she sagged limply.
"Mom?"
"Hm?"
"Sleep in here with me tonight. Okay?"
"The bed's narrow. Why not my room?"
"Because this is my room."
She understood. "All right, Son."
Dan insisted on their sharing a shower before the slept. Helen
agreed, feeling a trace of guilt that it would be a first for her: she'd
consistently refused to shower with Art. They stood belly to belly while
the water soaked them and Helen felt her fatigue draining from her. Danny
soaped and washed her, let her rinse under the stinging spray, and soaped
her again. With lather thick on both of them, he began to rub himself
against her.
Helen gasped. The sensation was utterly strange to her. The
frictionless contact of their bellies and of his hands on her buttocks
sent
tingles racing over her and made her pant. She thrust herself against her
son in a new rush of desire, and she caught his thigh between hers and
scrubbed her pussy on him. His cock stiffened against her belly. His arms
went around her waist and she clung to his neck, her boobs swishing on his
chest. He lifted her, letting his cock slide between her thighs while she
swung her feet up to wrap her legs around his hips. Without quite knowing
how it happened, she found herself sliding onto his shaft, his cockhead
already implanted in her. He bounced her on his prick and thrust his
finger
up her rectum, laughing with delight when she clamped her thighs on his
waist and leaned back.
At the height of their jostling, he stepped under the spray with her
and let it sluice away the soap. "Hey! This is way out, Mom!"
"Oooh, Danny! I liked it with the soap all over us!"
"Yeah! This is wild!"
"Why did you rinse it off?"
"We're making it too fast. I wanted to play for awhile." He grinned.
"You're more dun to play with when you're all excited, Mom."
"Danny!"
He lifted her off his dick and sat her on her feet. Turning the shower
off, he reached out for towels and patted the water from their bodies. He
stepped out with her, then, and scrubbed her vigorously with the towel.
'He's right,' she decided, panting. 'I'll let him do anything to me
while I'm excited.' She spread her thighs while his fingers probed between
her hot labia. "Ohhh, baby! Oh, precious!" she crooned.
Danny picked her up and carried her to his room. He spread-eagled
her on his bed, tying her and chuckling happily to himself. He produced an
electric vibrator and began to play it over her breasts, rolling its base
against their lower bulges until she squirmed with pleasure, then applying
its tip alternately to each of her nipples. She writhed and babbled. He
pulled the tip of the vibrator across her belly and slid it between her
legs
while wild surges of excitement slammed through her. When he laid it on
her clitoris the universe exploded for her. She arched her back to drive
her
ass into the mattress, then bowed the opposite way to elevate her pussy.
There was no way to evade the insane stimulus. Desire welled in her cunt
and flowed outward along her fibers until she was frantic with delight.
The convulsive spasms of orgasm rolled over her in a succession that
made the room turn black.
She heard someone screaming and only slowly realized by the
sensation in her throat that it was she. Her cunt flamed and her body
burned with sympathetic fury. When her spasms finally began to subside,
her son lay aside the vibrator and brought his hands to her crotch in its
place. She slowly regained her vision and started to discern between the
individual touches that kept her from sliding out of her passion.
Danny climbed between her thighs and nestled his cockhead between
her labia. He pressed it home, expanding her rim and sinking his shaft
into
her belly. His hips surged and the crazy explosion happened again. Helen
twisted her head and bit her lip, her knees jerking and her boobs
flopping.
She moaned happily, a hazy notion growing that she could remain
indefinitely in her orgasm.
But the hot welling of semen at her core released her after a final,
wild thrashing, and her son's dick began to wilt. Afterward, they clung to
each other and slept. More than once during the night, Danny awakened
Helen and she yielded herself to his resurgent demands. And in the
morning, after they'd both gone into the bathroom and returned eagerly to
the bed, she straddled him and lowered herself onto his waiting cock for
an exhilarating ride. She felt as if all the desire of the previous
fifteen
hours was concentrated in that single flurry of lust, and her climax left
her so weak she toppled from her son and lay paralyzed until he could rub
life back into her.
<< Danny Does Mom / Part 7 >>
Chapter 7
Danny objected to going to school. "No!" he yelled at her. "It'll be
hours before Dad gets home! That's time for all kinds of games!"
"Dan Frederickson, you're going to school! We've both had enough for
one session!"
He shook his head, childish stubbornness clear in his features. "Mom!
You spoil everything!"
"I didn't notice you complaining about my spoiling things last night!"
"Oh, that was different! I mean making me go to school when you're
right here!"
"Well that's too bad. Maybe I need a rest. Now get ready, before I get
mad!"
He grumbled and kicked at each chair he passed, but he got ready for
school. When she went to the door with him, he paused as if for her
customary "goodbye" peck. She stood on tiptoe to kiss him, her hands
resting against his chest, and he gathered her to him. He grabbed one of
her breasts, massaging it eagerly, then pulled up her skirt and thrust his
hand inside her panties and dug his fingers into her cunt. She squirmed
wildly but without success, and when Danny withdrew his hand and opened
the door, she was a quivering mass of confusion. She blew him a kiss and
muttered, angry at herself for losing control of the situation and at her
son for his impudence.
She raced through the most urgent of her housekeeping chores, her
thoughts far from domestic routine. Danny's hasty feeling-up had
thoroughly aroused her, and she was angrily conscious of the fact that it
would be hours before Art got home. She argued with herself.
"You've really made it," she said. "All the way. When a woman turns
her own son into a cunt-crazy machine, she's hit the bottom!" She gazed
through the window. 'Oh, God, Helen! Just what have you done? What's
going to happen?' she shuddered.
She drained the sink and dried her hands. Pulsing with raw sexual
desire and seething with self-contempt she rushed from the house. 'And
what's the big fuss?' she asked herself. 'You were afraid you were going
to
lose your husband? You did what had to be done, didn't you?' Sinking to
her
knees before a rich-blooming rose, she inhaled its sweetness. "Oh, God!"
'Did I? How can the things I've done possibly give me the happiness of a
secure home? And yet Art wants physical woman! He's got to have
someone who goes wild with sex hunger with him! And if i'm going to be
that self, that's what I'll have to be. There's only two of me; the one
Grandma made and the one I inherited from Mama and Daddy. If I can't be
one, I've go tot be the other.'
She choked back a sob. It didn't seem right to cry about it. She'd been
free to make her decision and her father had repeatedly sneered at people
who spent their lives regretting their decisions. "Christ Almighty!" he'd
always said. "When a guy makes up his mind, he shuts a door on the other
alternative! He's got to live with what he took, and there's no damn
excuse
for looking at the bad side of that!"
'There's no damn excuse for looking at the bad side of it,' she
repeated now. 'For fifteen and a half years I've fought with myself. I've
stamped out every dirty thought the instant I had it and frozen ever
wiggle
of excitement. That's the way it had to be if I wanted to be like Grandma.
All right! The dirty-minded, cock-hungry slut was the natural me all the
time! Now I know that's what Art wants, and it means doing what my
impulses say; that's all!'
She raised her eyes to gaze at tiny, puffball clouds as they drifted
across the sky. 'All I have to remember is that's good, now, instead of
bad? Let yourself go, Helen-baby! Do what you feel like, and the dirtier
the
better!' She squeezed her breasts and felt a surge of warmth, then grinned
ruefully and shook her head. "No, stupid! Not like that!" She unbuttoned
her
dress from the throat to the waist and shrugged out of it, then struggled
out of her bra and squeezed the naked globes. She trembled at the hot
flush
of pleasure. "Like this!" Teasing her own nipples, she flung back her head
and laughed with joy. Her old self would hate the new, but life was going
to be another thing when she could give herself without reserve to the
sensations that arose around her.
'And then there's Smokey! I'll bet he doesn't care if I'm tied up or
not! And I'll bet it would be a lot better if I weren't!' She swung her
bra by
its strap and let her dress dangle from where it had settled, riding on
her
hips. She shivered with a sense of wicked pleasure at the risque picture
she made, her boobs swaying, her navel exposed, and most of her lower
belly visible as she strode toward the hidden corral and the frustrated
little donkey.
She undressed and hung her clothes over the top rail before she went
in. "The hell with the gate!" she exclaimed. "More fun to climb over!" She
perched astride the rail for a moment, squirming at the harsh intimacy
between it and her pussy. The she scrambled down and dug her toes into
the organic soil and crossed to the feed table.
"Smokey?" she called. "Smokey! . . . Come on, baby! Come and get a
piece of ass!"
Smokey shuffled toward her, his neck extended and his ears forward.
She lay across the narrow plank, gripping its edge tightly and raising her
knees. As the donkey came closer she spread her thighs and let him sniff
her pussy. He licked, his tongue rough and impatient on her cunt, and he
probed deep into her vagina, making her belly writhe.
"Good! Good baby! Oooh, Smokey, that's scrumptious!"
Smokey jerked his tongue free and tossed his head with a snort.
Helen twisted to look under his belly and saw his cock swelling and
lengthening. The beast quivered and pawed the ground.
"Wonderful! Wonderful, Smokey! You know!" She lowered her feet,
touching the earth with her toes, her thighs widespread. "Come on, baby.
Up between my legs!"
The donkey snorted again and reared on his short hind legs, taking a
series of short, clumsy steps to position himself in the notch her legs
made. She caught his forepaws to guide them clear of her belly, then
reached under him and guided his prick to her cunt. His rump prodded and
the bulky cockhead began to work against the tightness of her rim. She
swung her legs around him and pulled fiercely, jerking herself onto the
great cock and gagging happily when it crowded her guts.
"Ahhh! Ohhh, Smokey-baby! Fuck me good!" She grabbed his neck and
hauled herself against him, his bristles stabbing her belly and gouging
her
tits. She pumped her ass, bouncing on his enormous shaft, and he banged at
her until she was battering against the plank.
"God, yes, Smokey! Hit me! Hit me hard, baby!" Her cunt flamed with
hunger and gulped the grotesque feast it held. Helen let go with her hands
and flung her arms back, letting herself arch backward over the edge of
the table. Her breasts jounced crazily and her fingers touched the ground.
She knew she'd see the moving lump on her belly of the buried cockhead, if
she only wanted to look. But she was starting to cum, and she didn't need
to see. Her thighs clamped convulsively on Smokey's sides, his stiff hair
digging at her tender flesh like handfuls of needles. Smokey backed
suddenly, as if startled at something, and she felt herself dragged off
the
table. She hung head down beneath him, supported by the grip of her legs
and pulling herself against his belly, his cock fully implanted in her.
She
continued to pump while she came, and Smokey's hindquarters continued to
oscillate savagely.
His cock leaped abruptly within her and he threw his head up and
brayed. His widely planted forelegs shook in Helen's grasp and she sobbed
with overwrought awareness, pumping her hips slowly, sliding her stuffed
pussy sensuously on his spurting cockshaft while his hot flood filled her.
When the pulsing sensations at the mouth of her cunt subsided and the
donkey's cock started to go soft, she loosened the grip of her legs and
let
herself slide off him to the ground. She rolled weakly aside, clear of his
hooves, and pushed herself erect.
"Thank you, you walking cock. Thank you!" She went to him and
hugged his ugly head, rubbing her tits against his face, then went to the
corner of the corral and used the watering hose to rinse off the thick cum
that trickled from her pussy. She took a cold douche and got dressed,
leaving the corral with a bouncy step and a satisfied smile.
"All right!" she called to the clouds. "Okay! You saw that! Am I dirty
enough? Am I doing all right or not?"
She returned to the house and made a perfunctory effort to
straighten it. But she was too impatient for Art's arrival to care whether
there was dust in the corners or not. At ten o-clock she made up her mind
to shock him. "Like he'd want to be shocked," she said confidently. She
found the bra and panties Danny had brought to her the night before. She
stripped quickly and got into the revealing garments, then waited
nervously.
She heard Art's car, peeked through the window to be sure it was
him, and went to the center of the living room. When Art opened the door,
he dropped his briefcase.
"Holy Jesus!" he exclaimed. "Is that you, Helen?"
"Of course! Honey, I've missed you something awful!"
"Sonovabitch!" He sprang across the room and crushed her in his
arms.
"Honey!" she exclaimed over his shoulder. "Honey! You left the front
door wide open!"
"Oh, shit! What's wrong with me!" He swung around, holing her in one
arm, and went back to the door. Her toes dragged on the floor and she
clung
fiercely to him. He teased her, holding her before him in the open doorway
and fingering her twat through the slit in her panties.
She was torn between hard-dying inhibitions and her new
determination to ignore them. "Art!" she gasped, her glance darting up and
down the street. "Art, honey! My God, sombody'll see us!" And then,
pressing her head back against him and thrusting her knees apart. "To hell
with it! Let them! Oh, rub, honey!"
Art crushed her clitoris with his fingers and she thrashed in his
grip. She heard the solid "chunk" of a closing door.
Art carried her to the couch and dropped her on it. She lay as she
fell, legs asprawl and arms extended, and watched him through half-
closed eyes while he undressed. When he pushed his shorts off his hips,
his
cock leaped, dark with heat, the head halfway out of the foreskin. She
rolled off the couch to her knees and flung her arms around Art's hips,
kissing the heavy prick eagerly. She ran the tip of her tongue around the
edge of his foreskin and lipped the tip of his cockhead.
Her husband buried his hands in her hair and tilted her head back,
gazing into her face with a puzzled expression. "What's with you, baby?"
he asked. "I don't know where you hid Helen, but you're sure a hell
somebody else!" A grin grew slowly.
Helen trembled. "I'm me," she murmured. "I'm me, with the
pretending gone. I'm who you really married." She pressed her boobs
against his thighs. "Want to know about me?"
"Sometime," he said softly. "Not right now. I want to get to know
you."
He loosened his grip and she put her lips to the nose of his cock. She
sucked at it for a time and then forced her mouth over the entire head,
biting gently on the foreskin and pushing it gently back onto his shaft.
She
played her tongue over his slit and listened to his breath hiss. To her
delighted surprise, the sense of guilt that had nagged her for the past
twenty-four hours evaporated. In its place, she felt a glow of pleasure in
the knowledge she was giving him pleasure. 'And that's not just cock
hunger!' she thought. 'I'm dying to get this beautiful cock into my pussy,
but that's a different feeling.'
The appearance in Art's belly grew more pronounced. His flesh
twitched and he twisted his hips slowly. At last he caught her under the
armpits and raised her to her feet. "Come on, baby. Time we tried out
those fancypants." He glanced at her nipples, outthrust by the upward
force of her bra's half-cups, and his eyes gleamed. "And that titty-
vendor," he added with a grin.
He took her to the dining room, where he pulled one of the straight
chairs away from the wall. Seating himself on the edge, he drew her
toward him. She straddled his lap, her twat hovering above his cock, and
he straightened the rigid member with its head nuzzling her. She pulled
the slit of her panties open and squatted, breathing deeply as she felt
the
knob of his cockhead settle into her gash.
"Mmm! Mmm!" she exclaimed. "I'm so hot for you, honey! God, this
feels good!"
Her cunt stretched to engulf Art's cockhead and she let herself slip
down the erect shaft. She lifted her feet, hooking her insteps over her
husband's thighs, and rocked on his cock. He balanced her, his hands at
her
waist, and bent forward to suck at her nipples.
He pulled his mouth away for a moment. "If it's all right, that is," he
said.
"If what's all right?" She shook with pleasure and made no sense out
of his remark.
"Sucking your tits."
She whispered, "Don't be mean now, honey. Just fuck!"
Amazement flashed in his eyes. "Did you say what I thought you did?"
"Please!" she wailed. "Don't spoil it!"
"Sorry, baby. All the way this time, huh? Nothing barred?"
"Oh God, honey! Do I have to draw a picture?"
"No. Just wiggle that pussy a little harder, okay?" He grabbed her
nipple again and began to chew it.
She levered her hips, grinding her pussy on the base of his cock and
feeling the head thrust back and forth in her belly. Her hands fluttered.
She
caught Art's face between them and fingered his temples, rocking her head
back and gazing at the ceiling.
"Honey! Ohhh, Honey!" she exclaimed. Shudders of pleasure racked her
body. "Whew! . . . Whew! . . . Mmmm, yesss!"
Art let go of her tit and grunted. "Hey, baby! I'm about to get off! You
think you can cum?"
"Try me!" she forced the words past clenched teeth. "Oh, quick,
honey!"
He arched, his neck on the chair back and his ass thrusting upward
off the seat. She straightened her legs, extending them to the sides, and
felt the hardness of his hip joints digging into the flesh of her inner
thigh
muscles. His fingers squeezed her waist while she clutched fiercely at his
wrists.
"Ummmmh! Baby! . . . BABY!" She swayed with the pulse of her lust.
Art bucked under her, stabbing his rigid cockshaft up into her,
uttered an explosive grunt and spewed jism into her. She flinched at the
violence of her contractions and ground her teeth together. When her
orgasm released its grip on her, she fell forward on her husband.
"Darling! Ooohm darling! I love you! I love you so much!"
He stroked her back tenderly and touched her forehead with his lips.
'Yeah, I love you, too, sugar. I've got to say, you're some kind of pussy
today! What's the story?"
She told him of the childhood she'd kept secret from him. She
mentioned the bad feeling between her grandmother and her parents and of
her own worship of the hard-bitten old lady. And she described in vivid
detail the crucial day in the wilderness area.
"Grandma died when she found out I was pregnant." she said. "There
was only one way I could make up for that."
"And that was turning into the sterile kind of bitch she figured a
broad ought to be?"
"Yes. I wouldn't say it like that, but yes.'
"You're not that icicle today! That's for damn sure!"
"No. Or ever again. I'm the other me."
"How come?" Art grinned and touched her lips with his fingertip.
"Let me guess. Dr. Davis, maybe?"
"Ugh! Lecherous psycho! I'm never going there again!" She shuddered.
"In a way it was him, though. he made me mad enough to start thinking.
And Vanessa was there to think, too."
"Van. Yeah, she's go t her feet on the ground."
"And her butt, with her legs spread, if a man looks interested!"
Helen gasped, startled by her reaction.
Art pushed her away from his chest and stared at her. "Huh! What
brought that on?"
"I saw. Art, I saw the way you took advantage when I was helpless
that night. And she'd been waiting a long time! It was in her eyes!"
"Ohhh!" Art whistled. "Things moved too fast for you!"
"You two moved fast enough! If I'd been able to think, I;d have
thought the two of you set me up so you could get together!"
"You mean that, don't you?"
Helen hesitated. For a moment she was aware of herself as if her
consciousness were a third person. She felt the intimacy of her flesh with
Art's and the emotional tension between them. And she had a weird
sensation of clinging to him in some other dimension with slipping
fingers.
"Art!" She heard the edge of panic in her own voice. "Honey! I'm
sorry! I don't care about what you do with her! Just save enough for me!"
<< Danny Does Mom / Part 8 >>
Chapter 8
Art showered and dressed with no appearance of urgency. Helen
slipped facial tissues inside the crotch of her panties and followed her
husband, slouching against the cabinet in the bathroom while he was in the
shower and perching on a chair with her arms around her knees while he
was dressing. He chuckled when she followed him from the bedroom.
"You going to stay like that?" he asked.
"Do you mind? I'm going to take a douche in a minute, but I'm not
going to dress."
"Man alive! Go douche, then!" He slapped her bottom. "And hurry!"
While she was in the bathroom, she heard the telephone. When she
returned to the living room, Art was grinning.
"Hey! Guess what sugar! That was Van on the line!"
"Does she want me to call her back?" asked Helen.
Art shook his head, still grinning. "She wanted to tell you she and
Barry were going to drop by. Be here in a few minutes."
"A few minutes!" Helen clutched at herself. "What for?"
Her husband shrugged. "Damned if I know. Just being friendly, near as I
could tell." He glanced sideways at her. "Hell, maybe they figured they'd
catch you alone and join you for fun and games. They didn't know I was
taking the day off."
"Art! What a thing to say!"
He laughed. "I sure can't imagine why else Barry would be coming.
Hell, he's got a job, too! You don't make sales sitting around home!"
She giggled. "Depends on what you're selling." And his earlier words
came to her. "A few minutes, did you say!" She shrieked. "Honey! It was
more than a few minutes ago when they called.
"Yeah."
"And you let me sit around here like this! Honestly, Art!"
"Barry's not about to criticize. And Van's understanding. Why not?"
'Why not! Why not, for the today-Helen?' she thought. 'Brrr! I wouldn't
back away from that cock today!' "I think you're mean," she told Art. "But
I've got the guts to call your bluff - this time."
She thought his eyes widened a trifle; she was certain he wasn't
laughing. She dropped to the couch beside him and snuggled.
"Good God! You're going to do it, aren't you!"
"I'll dress if you say so."
"Naw. Let it go." He put his arm around her and toyed with one of her
nipples.. "That reminds me!" he said suddenly. "I'm hungry!"
"I'll fix something for lunch!" She scrambled to her feet. "I'll get
enough so they can eat with us if they have time."
"Good."
Before she had gotten to the kitchen, the doorbell rang. She heard
voices and recognized Vanessa's. 'I can't do it!' she realized with a
sinking
feeling. 'I know I can't! Not like this!' She darted into the kitchen.
'An apron!
That's what I need!' She jerked open the apron drawer and held up one of
her
hostess models.
"Oh, no!" she cried aloud. The apron was a dainty, decorative bit of
uselessness, and the notion of resorting to it abruptly drew on a streak
of
perverse humor. She giggled and tied the belt ribbon on. Heart-shaped, the
lower panel had a narrow band of red trim and a wider lace ruffle. She
raised the upper panel and buttoned its straps behind her neck. It was a
second, smaller heart, each lobe lying against the underside of one of her
breasts with its strap wide of her nipple. She had to giggle again.
"My-y-y- God!" Vanessa's tone was a mixture of astonishment and
awe. "Helen!"
Helen whirled. "Oh, dear God, Van! You scared me out of ten year's
growth. I was afraid Barry was with you!"
"He's in with Art. But what are you doing dressed like that?"
"Art didn't change the other night, Van. You didn't really expect him to
be that shocked, did you?"
Vanessa appeared to tense. "Well . . . "
"I wouldn't have expected it either, except I was high on
screwdrivers. Anyhow, doing what I did convinced me how important he is
to me." She paused and spread her hands, palms forward. "So I changed,
instead."
"I can't believe it! Honey, you're not going out there in front of Barry
like that, are you?"
"Why not? It didn't bother you the other night?"
"Damn it, that was night time! He's still got calls to make."
"Then how come he's over here in the middle of the day?"
Vanessa sniffed. "I didn't know that was a crime!"
"I didn't say it was. But neither one of you knew that Art was home
today."
"No. We didn't. Why is he, anyway?" Vanessa's glance fell to Helen's
scanty costume and the corners of her mouth crinkled. "On second thought,
that's a foolish question."
"Art said you probably meant to take up where you left off the other
night," suggested Helen. She was conscious of a twinge of guilt at the
implication that Art had meant his little jest.
"You mean . . . ?" Van gasped. "For God's sake! Are you two paranoid?"
"He didn't mean it. I wondered, though, after he said it."
"Well! We were worried, if you want to know. We realized that was a
rough experience for you. barry thought you might like to go out to lunch
with us." She shook her head. "Looks like that's the last thing you want
to
do."
"I was getting ready to fix something to eat here. Why don't you and
Barry eat with us?"
"With you dressed like that, Barry would only be thinking of eating
one thing. God, Helen! Turn around! Let me see how you look from behind!"
Helen turned, resentful of vanessa's reaction. She heard Vanessa's low
whistle.
"Those panties are a louder invitation than the ones Olga wears!"
exclaimed the blonde. She smiled suddenly. "I wouldn't have guessed you'd
own anything like that."
"Art sent for them. I couldn't throw them out, but they didn't ever
come out of the drawer."
"He sent off? Where?"
Helen laughed. "You want a pair? They're risky, Van. Her irritations
evaporated. 'After all, she has a right to be off balance,' she thought.
'How
was she to know I was going to change? She didn't even know about the
other me.' "Art might remember, though, if you're not scared of what might
happen."
Vanessa responded to the new note in Helen's voice. "Honey, I said the
other night you had guts. I just didn't know how much! Would you honestly
let Barry see you in those in the middle of the day?"
Helen unfastened the apron and drew it aside with a delicious thrill of
wickedness as Vanessa's gasp.
"Oh, God!" Vanessa groaned. "They're hotter than I thought! They don't
hide anything! You wouldn't!"
"Yes, I would." Helen's stomach fluttered. Vanessa wasn't going to
permit that, but the mere challenge was frightening.
Vanessa let her breath out slowly. "Oh, my! Honey, come on! I don't
care if he does miss those calls! A guy doesn't get a chance to see that
kind
of underwear on a body like yours that often! He'd never forgive me If i
cheated him out of it!"
"Oh, no! You don't really want me to!"
"No! Hell no! But Barry would! Come on!"
"But I haven't got lunch yet!"
"We can come back and fix it. Come on."
Vanessa grabbed Helen's hand and tugged. Helen hung back, and she
thought for a moment Vanessa would give up. Then she felt her strength
fade and the eager blonde dragged her from the room.
"Barry? Hey, Barry!" called Vanessa.
Helen freed herself by a desperate wrench. "I'll go! For God's sake,
don't drag me!"
Barry and Art looked up as the two women entered the living room.
Helen flushed under Barry's startled stare.
He whistled. "Jesus, Helen! What's with her, Art?"
Art shrugged. "Look for yourself. She sure as hell can't be hiding
much."
Although his voice implied humor, Helen saw something else in his
face. The sudden hunger she saw drew her like a magnet, and she glided to
him. He extended his arm to lay his hand on her hip, the contact shocking
her
like an electric probe. He place his other hand on her waist and drew her
to
him. She emerged from her trance-like state long enough to throw a mute
appeal to her husband, then let herself sink onto Barry's lap. he turned
her
as she lowered herself, and she leaned back against him, her head next to
his cheek.
"Goddamn it, baby!" he said. "You'd make a guy lose his head with a
show like that!" His fingertips brushed her nipples. "I don't see how I'm
going to be in any shape to work this afternoon! When did you start
wearing
this kind of stuff around the house?"
"You talk a lot," she murmured, her flesh quivering at the continued
fondling of her tits.
"I guess." He laughed and began to rub her bare belly. "But you've been
so damn modest all the time we've known you, I thought you were a prude!
And then night before last and today! . . . Shit! Is it a wonder I talk?"
She moaned softly and squirmed. "I don't know. Art didn't."
Barry winced and squeezed her breast. "Art's a man of action, pet. Or
else he's got a one-track mind? I don't know which. Me, I like the way
conversation lubricates a situation."
'It isn't talk that's getting me lubricated!' thought Helen. 'God. I'm
wet!'
Barry felt the protruding strands of her pubic hair and the taut netting
of her panties. 'Tell Van where these came from, baby. She's got to have
some."
"They came from Art, and I told her."
"Like hell! I mean, where he got them! She'd better not get any from
him!"
"Barry! You sound jealous!"
"I don't care what you call it. She's had hot pants for that guy of yours
as long as I did for you! If she wants him to lay her once in a while,
that's
fine with me. But I'll be damned if he's going to buy these things for
her!"
He slid his hand between her thighs.
Helen clamped her legs together and Barry used both hands to pry them
apart. He grabbed her twat and his finger slipped through the panty
opening.
He gasped.
"Christ! What next! A cockgate!"
Barry maneuvered her on his lap until he could unzip his pants and let
his cock surge through his fly.
"Oh, dear!" she whispered. "Oh, dear!" She tightened her buttocks and
thrust her legs out, raising her pussy for him.
He parted her labia and dragged his fingers over the mouth of her
vagina. Her hips twisted.
"Barry, darling," she whispered. "Put your cock in, please! I want him
so!"
"Shit, Helen! I've go tot work this afternoon!"
"With a hard-on?"
He laughed. "You win. And that's how it would be. Probably will
anyhow, every time I think of you in these fuck-pants!" He grasped her by
the waist and raised her onto his cock.
She bent forward to rest her hands on his thighs, settling onto the
hard prick. A gust of contentment swept her as she felt herself filled.
"Ahhh! Barry, Barry!"
He slid his hands onto her hips, grasping the smooth bulges firmly and
bouncing her. The edge of the couch pressed her calves and her breasts
leaped in their half-cup supports. She clenched her teeth and groaned
shakily.
"I'm going to cum pretty fast this way, baby," Barry told her. Seeing
that little strip of hot net across an ass like yours is enough to light a
short fuse!"
"I don't care!" she panted. "I'll love every second of it!" She was
surprised at having discovered she wasn't up-tight about reaching an
orgasm. 'Because I've had so many the last three days.' she thought. 'I
wouldn't fight it, but I can wait until next time.'
Barry's hips jerked upward, his balls mounding against the sober gray
of his trousers, and Helen felt herself driven higher, the base of his
cock
hard against her pussy. She shook while Barry pumped his jism into her and
continued to twitch after he had squeezed out the last of his cum and
fallen
back. When there was no stiffness left in the cock that impaled her, she
pushed herself off. She faced Barry, bending over him and kissing him on
the
mouth. Then she straightened.
"Thank you, darling," she said. "It feels so good to have you screw
me."
He sighed. "You're a good lay, Helen. I wish we'd started swapping
sooner."
She tensed. "Swapping! Barry, only nasty minded sex fiends swap!
We're not doing that!"
"Whatever. I still wish we'd started sooner."
"Okay. So do I," She wrinkled her nose at him. "We didn't, though. That
means we've go to catch up."
"Oh, shit!" he groaned. "One crack like that and I'm in just as bad a
shape as I was before you made me screw you! Helen, you're not even the
same broad I used to know!"
"No." She dropped her glance to her toes. "No, I'm not, Barry. But
that's a long story."
"Tell you what," he said. "I'm going to remember that. One of these
nights we'll make it as far as a bed. And when we're screwed out, we can
lie there next to each other while you tell me the whole thing. Time you
finish, we'll be rested enough to make it again."
"Oh, you! she laughed, feeling herself flush. "Van? Do we have to get
lunch?"
Vanessa cuddled on Art's lap, her lips at his ear, stirred and looked
around. "Hmm? Lunch? Not now. Barry's appointment is in half an hour." She
glanced at her husband. "For heaven's sake, Barry! Get your peter in!" And
then, "Oh, no! You've got to go home and change! You've got pussy tracks
all
over you!"
Helen's face burned and she avoided Vanessa's eyes. Barry grumbled
and tucked his cock inside his trousers.
"It isn't all that Goddamn bad, woman." he growled.
"it's bad enough you've got to change your pants!"
"Okay, okay. I didn't say I wasn't going to. Only we'll have to get a
move on. You ready to wind up whatever you got going with Art?"
"And what would that be?" Vanessa bristled.
"How the hell would I know? Maybe you're trying to work him for a
pair of those fuck-pants!"
"Barry Rush!" His wife blazed at him. "You go ahead. I'll get Art and
Helen to bring me home."
"Suit yourself." Barry heaved himself to his feet and zipped his fly. He
paused on the way to the door to kiss Helen, then he was gone.
"Maybe he was hungry," suggested Art.
"Of course he was! Hungry for pussy when he saw all that flesh! Well,
he got it, didn't he?"
Helen resented Vanessa's implications. "It seems to me you dragged
me in here like this," she said. "I was looking for something to cover me
up."
"A hostess apron?!" Vanessa snorted. "What's the difference? I mean,
after all!"
"You still dragged me in."
"Damn it! Once I saw you like that I couldn't do anything else! It's a
sort of a thing between Barry and me. Like an unwritten agreement. But I
wouldn't have had to if you'd had any clothes on."
"Van! For Christ's sake! I dress for what's happening when I'm at
home, not for whether someone might drop in!"
"I called first."
Art nodded. "They did phone first," he said. "Fact is, I've go tot agree
it's going pretty far to shack up with another guy on his lunch break. I
mean,
it's like the difference between liking to eat and being compulsive about
it.
I don't know that we want to let this thing between us go quite that far."
Helen stared at her husband, aghast. 'He didn't want me the way I
was.' she thought. 'Now he doesn't want me this way, either!' A tendril of
panic sneaked through her. 'What'll I do! It's too late to go back! It
was bad
enough to have to live with what I did with that Indian guide: I couldn't
stand to have all the things I've done these three days hiding in the
back of
my mind! Besides, I like sex too much. If I have to choose, I'd rather be
what
I am now! Oh, what'll I do?'
Vanessa sighed and got up. "Look, maybe we're all hungry. We're
getting all up-tight without any good reason. We're mature enough to be
honest about what we feel like doing. If one of us is a little hotter
what's
the difference? Maybe I don't yank off my clothes every time I get hot for
Art, but there might be a time when I would. I'm not going to set myself
up
to judge you for going overboard, Helen."
<< Danny Does Mom / Part 9 >>
Chapter 9
Helen cleaned up after lunch. She'd sensed a current flow between Art
and Vanessa and suggested that he take Vanessa home. She knew he'd
understood - and that he wouldn't hurry back. And she found herself
spending
more time thinking than working. The two strokes of the grandmother clock
in the dining room nearly failed to register with her. She felt them
rather
than hearing them, and they were nothing but an echo in her mind when she
realized they meant something.
"Omigod!" she exclaimed aloud to herself. Danny! He gets out of school
at two! And he'll probably run all the way home! He's not going to catch
me
dressed this way!
She dropped the plate she was holding. Ignoring the crash it made
when it shattered on the floor, she sprinted toward the master bedroom.
"I did promise about the bath," she muttered. "I did promise about that.
And he'll insist on watching me undress. Well, I'm not going to be wearing
these! Not for him again!" She whipped off the controversial bra and
panties
and put on more conventional replacements. What dress? What dress? She
searched through her closet, then stopped abruptly. Helen! You stupid
bitch!
Why not a dressing gown? What would be more natural, knowing I'm going to
be taking a bath?
She stripped again and shrugged into her everyday dressing gown,
wondering why she hadn't heard her son yet. She worried in spite of
herself,
and she'd gone to both outside doors before she recalled that danny would
assume his father was there. "And he'll figure I'm not going to take a
bath in
front of him when Art's home," she added aloud.
As she closed the back door she heard Danny come in through the front.
After a moment of silence, he called out. "Hey! Anyone home? Where is
everybody?"
She smiled. "Here I am Danny."
"Oh. Okay."
She went through the kitchen to the dining room and saw her son
disappearing in to his room. He reappeared at once.
"Had to get rid of my books," he said. "Hey, where's Dad?"
"He went out. He'll be back for supper."
"Oh. Good! Hey, Mom, any apples? I'll eat one while I'm watching you
take a bath." He paused and a question showed in his expression. "You
didn't
take it yet, did you? You promised, Mom!"
She shook her head. "No. No, I haven't taken it yet."
"Great! Bitchin', Mom! Hey, I got an idea! I'll eat that apple later;
I'll
take a bath with you, Mom! Won't that be something else!'
He seized her and crushed her to him, twisting her so her breasts
rubbed on his chest. His hand slid through the overlap on the front of her
gown and pressed between her thighs to bury itself among the folds of her
pussy. She squirmed, warmth rising through her and a surge of excitement
momentarily making her giddy.
"Oh, Danny!" she whispered. "Please!"
"Oh, okay." He withdrew his hand after letting one fingertip dart into
her cunt for an instant. "Okay, I guess. Come on. We've got a lot of
time."
They had, she realized. They had time for Danny to carry out any
number of boyish games with her, and she was convinced his was an
inventive imagination. She shivered and backed away. They went to the
master bath, where she knelt to start the water. She used a generous
portion of bubblebath, knowing she'd be grateful for the thick suds at
first.
After that, she thought with a sigh, I won't care. I know it!
Instead of waiting for the tub to fill, Danny returned to his room to
undress. "It's like filling a swimming pool," he muttered as he left.
When he returned he was totally naked and had a massive hard-on.
Helen felt a painful surge of desire at the sight of his youthful
leanness as
he strode into the room completely unabashed by his stiff erection. She
was
struck again by the over-sized appearance of his cock and its darkness. He
looked as if someone had constructed him out of spare parts, giving him a
boy's body - beautifully developed, but a boy's nonetheless - and a
giant's
prick. There was no mistaking his immaturity, however. He had a massive
hard-on, his cock engorged and already dripping long, thin strands of his
colorless pre-cum fluid. Helen's mouth watered.
Danny was as eager as his hard-on made him appear. He went
immidiately to his mother and untied her belt, drawing back the front of
her
gown to expose her creamy nakedness. His eyes glittered and he licked his
lips. Helen quailed before his fierce expression of hunger. She clutched
his
forearms, recognizing his physical tension by the iron-hard condition of
his
muscles. With as little attention to her resistance as if her hands were
at
her sides, he raised his arms and slipped the gown off her shoulders. She
released his wrists and let the garment slide off her arms and tumble to
the
floor.
Her son breathed hard as he ran his hands over her. "I thought about
you all day, Mom," he said. "I kept seeing you like this and getting a
hard-on."
He grinned wryly. "By the end of the first period my balls ached so bad I
could hardly make it to the next class!"
She whispered. "Danny . . . " And she stopped, having nothing to say.
She quivered, standing motionless while he continued to caress her.
Her flesh tingled and there was a pressure in her lungs she couldn't ease.
She knew nothing would help the dryness in her mouth, but she kept trying
to generate saliva. Time seemed to her to have frozen, and she had a weird
presentiment that she would stand before her son through eternity, his
hands stroking her and his eyes devouring her.
"Isn't that tub full enough yet?" he asked.
She tore her gaze from his face and looked down. "Yes! If we're both
going to get in there, it'll run over if it's any fuller!"
He stopped and turned the valves, then helped her as she stepped down
into the water. She sank grateful into the foam, thankful as she's
expected
for the momentary respite from Danny's attention. He followed her in and
luxuriated in the hot, foamy water. The dark purple knob of his erection
poked up just above the surface of the water.
"Wow! This is all right! A guy could get to like this!" he exclaimed.
"Maybe chicks have the right idea!"
She smiled. "It's a woman's secret - the way we unwind."
He grinned. "Be as good a place to wind up as unwind," he remarked.
"Let's try it." He pulled her around, her back against his belly, and
forced her
legs apart. To keep them spread to his liking, he raised his knees and
planted his feet between her thighs. She raised her own knees to ease the
strain and gasped when he grabbed her pussy. He wasted little time finding
her clitoris. He rubbed it gently, the soapy water making his fingertips
slide
easily on its sensitive surfaces, and Helen gulped with sudden lust. Her
cunt
felt as if it would look like a fish's mouth at feeding time, snapping
greedily at nothing.
She grunted and thrust her hands between her back and her son's belly
to seize his cock. He forced the fingers of one hand into her cunt and
pulled
her forward, tilting her and forcing her even further open.
"Danny! Danny!" she writhed against him.
Her clitoris felt raw before he abandoned his massage and she was
certain he'd sensed how close she had come to orgasm. He kept one hand at
her pussy, still thrust deeply into it, and slid the other under her to
squeeze
her buttocks. His fingers probed toward her rectum, and she raised herself
involuntarily for the penetration she knew would come. She felt one finger
force its way into her, then gasped and cried out as another joined it.
The
dual insertion, with his hands filling both her cunt and her rectum,
destroyed the last vestiges of her self-control. She jerked her legs
around
his and thrust her ass about wildly. Her arms shook with the force of her
grip on her son's cock, and she used the rock-hard prick as a lever for
her
thrashing. Her boobs surged in and out of the water, splashing great gobs
of
foam up and onto the surrounding floor.
"Omigod! Omigod! Danny, I'm already cumming! AGHHH!"
"You've got a long way to go, Mom." Danny's voice sounded strained. "My
cock's got a fierce load, and you're going to be all over it!"
She groaned, the rigidity of her climax reaction fading, and lay back
panting. "Oh, my! Oh, my, Danny! I couldn't help it!"
"It doesn't matter. You can come over and over." He captured her
clitoris under his thumb without evacuating either her ass or her pussy.
She shrieked. "NO! Please, Danny! It's too tender right now! Ohhh,
please!"
He ignored her pleading and new streaks of intolerable excitement
stabbed her. She struggle to stop him, but his legs held hers helplessly
apart and she found his elbows had her arms trapped.
"Damn you, Danny! You just don't care if it hurts, do you?"
"Aw, you're just saying that, Mom. It really feels good, only you want
to wait in between times."
"No! No, I tell you it hurts!"
"Pain and excitement are all the same . . . no, pain and pleasure. One of
the guys said he read that in a book."
'The cocky little bastard!' she thought of Danny. 'This time he happens
to be right. It's really just too much pleasure to take. But that
pleasure pain
bit could get dangerous!' She gave up analysis; pleasure had overcome
reluctance and she was flailing about on his hands again.
She reached such a high pitch that she only vaguely knew when he
pulled out his fingers. She was conscious only of the fact that she was
terribly full and deliriously happy at one point, then empty and yearning
at
another.
He lifted her up and sat her down on his cock with the head lodged at
her rectum.
"Easy the first time." she cautioned him.
He didn't force her down, only guided her hips as he withdrew support,
letting her own weight force her reluctant sphincter over the great bulb.
"Oh, Jesus!" she groaned aloud as her sphincter slowly dilated and
swallowed the fat knob of his cock.
Her ass burned furiously, lacking sufficient lubrication. Her finger
nails dug viciously into the flesh of his bare shoulders and her jaws
clenched so tight that her neck hurt as she settled slowly onto the long
shaft, silently enduring the fiery sensation of first entry.
When they were first married and still experimenting she had done
this several times with Art. After the initial pain passed she had
enjoyed it
immensely. But that had been a long time ago and Danny was much bigger
than Art.
"Oh, no! Danny, it's too much! Please, don't!" she begged. "Not so deep,
Danny! You're going to hurt me!"
But Danny appeared to have further plans for her in his own build-up.
He lifted her higher during one of the strokes, and she writhed helplessly
while the wide shoulders of his cockhead tugged against her asshole and
her
sphincter slowly stretched enough to give up its enormous prisoner. When
he
lowered her again his cock drove upward into her cunt. There was no change
in the motion, except she slid faster each time she was dropped, slamming
onto the base of his cock with jarring blows. And the sensations seemed
more intensely sexual.
Then, with excellent timing, he shifted his stiff organ at the peak of
her stroke, doing it so fast and smooth that she was unaware of it having
moved until she slammed down and her butthole exploded with pain at the
sudden forceful insertion. She was moving so rapidly that her own
momentum had completed half the stroke before she could react. But even as
she slowed her downward movement Danny's hands were already on her hips,
grasping her hipbones firmly, forcing her to continue downward until the
cheeks of her buttocks rested on his thighs.
"Oh, it hurts!" she protested.
Danny held her buttocks tightly against his pelvis, the full length of
his stiff phallus sheathed in her tortured colon, and shifted beneath her,
grinding and rolling and bucking.
Another fraction of an inch in either length or breadth would have
been too much, would have ruptured her.
When he relaxed his grip on her hip bones she gave a shuddering sigh of
relief and lifted only a little before she settled carefully onto him
again
and began to ride him slowly, enduring the delicious torture of his
immense
organ stretching her colon.
When her thighs grew tired and she faltered he slipped his hands under
her buttocks and lifted her, dropping her suddenly. The full length of
his fat
rigid phallus slammed up into her asshole with an impact that made her
winch and cry out.
"Oh, Danny!" she groaned. "You're too damn big for this."
He lifted and dropped her repeatedly, and she knew she was sliding the
full length of his cock with every stroke. She lost track of time and
began
to wonder dully whether she was going to cum or faint.
On the next upstroke he shifted again and she came down with her ass
still burning but empty and her pussy crammed full. The sensation was so
intense that lights exploded in her brain, she quivered from head to toe
and
her cunt clenched spasmodically on her son's cockshaft. Vaguely, through
the mist of her climax she heard Danny's voice. "That's a good one, huh,
Mom?"
At last - and still without having reached an orgasm - her son peeled
her off his cock. He thrust her away from him, pressing her back against
one
side of the tub and kneeling astride her body. "How is it, Mom?" he asked.
"Good, huh?"
He grinned proudly and thrust his belly forward grasping his cock in
one hand a rubbing it across her mouth. Even in her dazed condition, her
pussy hardened and her mouth watered at the sensation of the velvety
cockhead on her lips. She dabbed at the thin coating of his fluid with her
tongue.
"I'm something special, huh, Mom? Boy, I know some things to do!" He
placed his hands in her armpits and lifted, sliding her more nearly erect.
"I'm ready now, Mom. I thought this up by myself!"
He pressed against her, laying his cock in the cleft between her
breasts, his thighs shoving up and in against the fullness of her globes.
Raising her hands, he placed her palms on the outer slopes of her boobs
and
pushed until her flesh closed over the base and lower shaft of his cock.
His
balls rested against her solar plexus, bumping when she inhaled. His cock
reared from between her breasts with its head touching the point of her
chin.
"See, Mom? Room service! Boobs and mouth at the same time! Okay?"
Despite the revulsion she experienced at his egotism, she throbbed
from the combined stimulus of the pulsing warmth between her boobs and
the heavy scent of the bulb at her lower lip. "Okay, Son," she murmured. A
spasm of desire seized her and she grunted. "Yes! Yes, Danny!" She lowered
her face, her mouth opening widely to envelop his cockhead.
Her son pumped his hips slowly, his shaft sliding freely between the
foamy surfaces of her boobs and his cockhead rubbing a path along the roof
of her mouth to the arch of her throat. The tip of her tongue jabbed into
his
slit, exploring the quivering walls, and she sucked frantically. He pumped
faster, a recurrent tremor betraying his growing agitation. Helen kneaded
the sides of her breasts without being conscious of the act and pushed
them
to present her nipples to the friction of her son's belly.
Danny bent his neck abruptly, resting his chin on his chest and gritting
his teeth audibly. His cock pulsed and steaming, thick jism welled into
the
back of Helen's mouth. She gulped, swallowing his cum as fast as he pumped
it, the sweet-sour flavor making the back of her jaw buzz. She had a
moment of detached realization that she wasn't going to come and an
immediate surge of satisfaction in the knowledge. Her dazed condition
cleared abruptly, leaving her alert and calm.
When Danny's rigidity ebbed, she was content to allow her own passion
to cool without resolution. She sucked his cockhead dry and removed her
hands from her breasts. Danny continued to lean against her for a time,
then
slid back into the water to rest.
"Whew!" He grinned wearily at his mother. "Whew! Some fuck, MOM!"
She returned his gaze coolly. "Danny, it's time we started treating
that word with proper respect."
"Huh?" He stared.
"Fuck is a powerful word. ^It's short and pungent and earthy. It's sound
sort of reaches down into a person's guts and makes them feel like what it
means. It loses all that if it's used at the wrong times or with the wrong
meaning. Understand?"
"I guess so." He shook his head slowly.
Helen actuated the drain lever and rose to her feet. She reached across
to the towels and handed one to her son, sponging at the water that
coursed
down her own body.
"Hey!" Danny protested. "You said I could dry you!"
"You can. I'm just getting the worst of it so I won't make a big puddle
on the floor."
"Oh." Danny toweled himself rapidly and clambered out of the tub.
Helen accepted her son's help as she stepped out and stood quietly
while he fondled her through the towel. His hands aroused her, even
through
the thick terrycloth, and she made no effort to resist the impulses that
coursed through her. She permitted herself to squirm when she felt like it
and to thrust her pussy harder against Danny's hand when he dried it,
frankly
parting her thighs to heighten her pleasure. But when she was dry and
Danny
had tossed the towel aside, she vetoed his attempt to resume his feeling-
up.
"Huh? But, Mom!" Danny looked deeply puzzled. "What's wrong?"
"You're looking forward to another two hours of sex, I suppose."
"Well . . . well, aren't we going to?"
"No."
"Why not? Aw, shit, Mom!"
"Danny!" she drew herself erect. "That'll be all of that kind of
language."
"But gee, MOM! What's all the fuss?"
"No fuss. Just time we understood each other. Time to find out where
each of us stands."
He attempted to divert her. "Rather lay," he said with a grin.
"Of course!" She smiled. "Look, Danny. You've got to learn a lot yet
before you can spend all your time on sex. Maybe then you'll know better.
The
point is, this thing of ours got started in a sort of misunderstanding.
When
you found those doors open and barged in on me, you made some remark
about having had the wrong idea about privacy. Well, modesty's another
word
that has something to do with privacy. Privacy and modesty mean just about
the same thing in this house now as they did before that day.
"The same kinds of off-limits things, Mom?"
"Yes. You caught me in the very worst spot in my changeover of ideas
and . . . well, values. I'm not going into that with you, but things were
so
confused I let you assume things that weren't true. And I let you make
plans
that aren't going to get carried out."
"Like what plans, Mom?"
She saw an edge of fear in his expression. 'He knows he's about to lose
something that he thought he had sewed up', she thought. She felt a pang
of
sympathy, but her obligation was clear. "Like your idea we were going to
play sex games every time the coast was clear . . . that you had a
license to
play sex games with me whenever you felt like it. It's not going to work
that way. You lucked out about getting a real life demonstration of what
Mr.
Duffy was talking about. You even got to try out some pretty wild ideas of
your own. But that's as far as it goes. I get my sex from your father,
and I
like it. When it's time for you to get yours, you're on your own. I'll
answer
questions. I might even listen to fantasies sometime and tell you how they
affect me - or whether I think they're possible. But I'm not going to be a
guinea pig for you."
"You mean, like Smokey?"
She smiled again. "Like Smokey. Incidentally, if you do find a girl
who's willing to try that, she might like it better the first time if you
can
work it so she's on her back. She'll have less psychological blocks to
overcome and more erotic contact with the animal."
Her son's eyes widened. She realized he was speculating - that he
must suspect she'd continued that line of research without his knowledge.
But she wasn't concerned; she expected him to harbor some residue of
erotic
notions about her from now on.
"The fact is, Danny, I might even let you play with me once in a while.
That's not a promise, and you shouldn't count on it, but it isn't
impossible
that I might feel like it someday. In the meantime, you'd better get a
good
look at me right now, because I'm through posing for you."
* * *
Helen's plans came to naught. Less than an hour later the telephone
rang. Art was caling to say his business deal was not complete and that
he'd
be staying over another day.
The last few days activities hald built a need in her, a need she had
planned to share with Art. But Art wasn't available. Helen tried to
ignore
the need building in her but it was too great. Finally swallowing her
pride
she went in search of Danny.
"Your father won't be home until 4:00 tomorrow afternoon. If you agree
to abide by my rules we'll do whatever you want until then." She could see
him mentally calculating the hours. "I'll even let you skip school
tomorrow,"
she added.
"What if I don't agree?" he asked with a note of challenge in his voice.
"Marmion Military Academy!" she stated flatly.
"Mom! You wouldn't!" Danny protested in amazement.
"You just try me, young man!" she challanged.
"What are your rules?" he asked a little petulantly.
"Just one rule. After tomorrow you don't ever come on to me again.
When, and if, I'm interested I'll come to you. Its been wonderful, Danny,
but
its wrong."
"Okay. I agree." he succumbed reluctantly.
Helen gave a small sigh of reliefe and relaxed visibly, confident now
that she was now in control again. Danny would never know how close he had
come to total domination of his mother.
"When do we start?" Danny asked on a slightly brighter note.
"Right now, if you want. I'm all yours until four-o-clock Monday."
<< Danny Does Mom / Part 10 >>
Chapter 10
Helen had Art to herself that evening. Danny climaxed a restless
afternoon by requesting permission to eat pizza at a place downtown and
see one of the new movies, and she was quite willing to agree. Before
Danny
left, he brought up the subject of the donkey again.
"Don't get mad, Mom, but I was wondering."
"What?"
"Well, most people don't get around donkeys very much. Do you think
dogs would be likely to do that as Smokey was?"
She hesitated. "Probably," she replied at last.
"Mom, was he good?"
She felt a flush rise to her face. "Yes. Very good."
"Hmmmm."
He had been gone only a few minutes when Art got home, and Art had
seen Danny."
"I saw Danny crossing a vacant lot about six blocks from here. Where's
he going?"
She told him.
"Oh." Art's voice sounded lighter. "How come you're all dressed then?"
She sniffed. "Seems to me there was something mentioned about
people being modest." She grinned at his pained expression. "Look, hon,"
she
said. "I had a chance to take a good look at myself while you were with
Van
this afternoon. I decided I'd swung like a pendulum. I was a first class
Victorian - a Grandma Farrell - until I realized I was going to lose you
that
way. So I went to the other extreme - a no-holds-barred nympho. Well, I
think I know what I am now."
"Yeah? Well enough to tell me?"
"I think so. I love sex, honey. I'll do anything or let anything happen
to
me . . . at the right time, with the right person and when I'm in the
right
mood. I'm going to be my own boss about that, and I'm not going to let
Grandma Farrells' ghost scare me out of having fun or let every casual
stimulus stampede me into tearing off my clothes."
Art was studying her with an expression of obvious respect. She
leaned against him and let her love for him show in her smile.
"Of course, darling . . . " she spoke softly. "The strongest stimulus I
know is seeing you want me. And that's never casual."
"If I get a 'let's screw' look in my eye, off come the clothes?" he asked
with a grin.
"If that's what you want. Or on they stay, if you want it that way."
He began to look agitated. "What about guys like Barry?"
"I'm not sure. Barry's good with sex. I don't mind having him make love
to me. But he's not so important to me that I'd let him if you didn't
want me
to. And I'm certainly not interested in trying out anybody else, unless
you
think I ought to." She hesitated, then continued. "If I see a guy who
really
turns me on, I'll tell you about him and We'll decide if I ought to try
him
out."
Art whistled. "Goddamn! That doesn't sound like a woman talking!
Sounds like the way a man would think!"
"There's been some pressure," she said. "It wasn't the kind of pressure
I could have survived with tears of wishful thinking. Maybe it took
survival-type logic" She smiled in an effort to appear disarming. "I guess
that'd men call man-type thinking."
He growled. "Come on, you sexy broad. Let's eat so we'll have some
time for screwing!"
She got supper ready, pausing from time to time to enjoy one of Art's
lewd caresses, and they ate quickly. Art helped her with the dishes, and
while she was polishing the sink and cabinet he began to unbutton her
dress.
She gave herself up to a delicious, all-over tingle and completed her work
with a hasty swipe of the cloth. Hanging it ver the faucet, she turned to
face her husband.
Art pushed her dress off her shoulders and she let it slide to the
floor, remembering how her dressing gown had fallen beside the bathtub.
She watched Art's jaw twitch as he unfastened her bra and pulled it away
from her breasts. And she rested the heels of her hands on the cabinet and
leaned back, the cold edge pressing into the small of her back while Art
closed his lips over one puckered nipple. When he straightened, his hands
already rolling down the top of her panties, he sighed gustily.
"I'm going to like the new Helen best of all," he said.
"Me too!" Helen shivered.
The telephone rang at precisely the moment that Helen drew her foot
out of her panties. She wrinkled her nose.
Art swore. "Oh, shit! Now what?"
"I'll get it, honey."
"Well . . . Okay, but I'll go with you."
When she picked up the receiver, he stood behind her. She leaned
against him and he cupped his hands over her breasts, kneading gently.
"Hello?"
"Hi. This is Van."
"Oh! Hi, Van."
"Helen, Barry and I were wondering if you and Art would like to come
over for some games tonight."
Helen repeated the message to Art. He hesitated.
"I'm not too eager about it right now," he said. "It's up to you,
though."
She spoke into the mouthpiece. "Van, would you be awfully upset if we
took a raincheck?"
"No, I guess not. Say, did Art tell you what happened this afternoon?"
"No."
"One of those pipes in the upstairs bathroom ruptured. The place was
flooded! I had to call a plumber, and there were three of them here all
afternoon running copper tubing. Art and I spent five hours trying to save
everything that was wet. Tell him, 'Thanks again!' "
"I will."
"Oh, another thing. You might want to keep on eye on Danny, too."
"What?"
Van chuckled. "That kid's got enterprise! He was over here about an
hour ago. Talked me into showing him how I trim that special hybrid Winter
Wonder in our lath house. I was so surprised when he started to feel me
up I
didn't stop him. He was damn good at it, and I wanted to see how far he'd
go.
Well, let me tell you, I'll spin on that cock anytime! Honey, he was
magnificent! But is he ever athletic! He had me all over the lath house .
. . in
the leafmold on the benches, against the planters . . . Jesus!
"Good God!" whispered Helen. "Oh, Van! I'm sorry!"
"Helen, don't apologize. But you'd better tell me if you don't want him
making out over here. I like what he's got, and he can play games with me
any day of the week!" Vanessa laughed nervously. "I think he finally hit
on a
way to break the ice with that snotty sister of mine too. Don't ask me
how,
but he must have found out Olga's one human trait is she's an absolute
pushover for animals! Show her a stray cat or a bird with a broken wing
or a
perfectly healthy goat and she adopts the damn thing. So Danny just
happened to ask her - just happened to, mind you - if she'd ever spent
much
time around donkeys. Seems his donkey - Smokey, of course - has had some
problem Danny can't figure out how to solve. He didn't seem willing to
describe what was wrong; said a person would have to see for himself to
appreciate how seriously it distressed the poor creature. And Olga thawed
and had Danny out of here so fast it made our heads swim!"
Helen groaned faintly. "Any other sparkling news?" she asked.
"No. I guess that covers it. I'll phone you to see if we can work out a
good time for another get-together. Okay?"
"Okay."
When Helen hung up, Art swept her into his arms and carried her to
the couch. She was aflame with desire for him as the result of his
unceasing attention to her boobs during the long telephone conversation,
but
he sent her excitement rocketing with the unrestricted handling he gave
her
now. She was so ecstatic over her own response; she soared into three
orgasms before he reached his first, and she began to think there was
nothing he could do that wouldn't drive her to climax.
Vanessa called back an hour later. "Helen I guess Danny scored with
Olga, too. He just brought her back, and she's dragging as if she'd
treated
the Army of the South! I'm afraid they didn't give poor old Smokey much
help." She paused. "What's wrong with the old fellow, anyway?"
"It's like Danny said, Van. You've got to see it to understand what a
problem it is for him."
"I wish I could help. I'd do just about anything for that sweet old
thing."
Helen gasped and grinned with delight. She could think of nothing that
would give her more satisfaction than to see Van's full-curved body under
Smokey, impaled with that majestic cock of his. And, if she worked it
right,
she could use Danny's movie camera to provide something she and Art could
enjoy over and over.
"Van?"
"Huh?"
"You mean that? About helping him, I mean?"
"I certainly do!"
"Maybe if you have time tomorrow morning you could take a look at
him."
"Good heavens, yes! I'll be over as soon as Barry and Olga are out of
the house!"
This time, when Helen turned away from the telephone, she was in an
incredulous daze. She could hardly believe it had been so easy. But Art
looked concerned.
"What's all this about Smokey?" he asked. "Something wrong with him
I didn't know about?"
She stared at her husband for a moment, recalling the way he'd
described what would happen if she gave Smokey a chance to mount her. The
fact that he'd been accurate was of no importance; the loving attention to
detail, though, suggested he might have the same voyeuristic thing about
watching such an act as Danny had shown.
"Well . . . " She felt confused and a little embarrassed. It would be
worth the embarrassment if she could bring him as much pleasure as she
thought she could. "Well, he spends about eighty percent of his time
shuffling around with a hard-on, honey. He's frustrated as hell, and you
know how unlikely we are to find anyone who'll let us breed him to their
mare. He's just too damn little!"
Art nodded. "You can hardly call that a disease, though. What the hell
could anyone do for him?"
She stared into space, pretending to be daydreaming. "I'm not sure. You
remember telling me how wrong I was when I said you made love like an
animal? You talked about Smokey then."
Art frowned, then looked up sharply. "About how Smokey would put it
to a woman?"
"Yes."
"Hell, that was pure fiction. I wanted to shock you."
She smiled shyly. "I know. But I was just wondering. You suppose if he
were coaxed right he might . . . ?"
"Helen!" There was a note of wild, incredulous hope in her husband's
voice. "Helen! You'd be willing to . . . ? You'd try that?!"
"For you, honey. If you thought you'd find it exciting."
"Jesus Christ! Honey, when?"
"When would you like me to try?"
"Baby . . . Don't get mad, but how about now?"
She pretended to hesitate. "All right."
"You going to dress?"
"What for? So I can get undressed down there?"
"Oh, shit! Let's go!"
They ran, hand in hand, to the corral. Smokey was restless, and the
moonlight shone on his great hard-on. Helen was totally confident the
little
donkey had mounted Olga at least once during the evening. He was becoming
accustomed to human mates; he ought to board her for Art without urging.
She climbed over the fence, Art close behind.
"The table?" he asked.
"I don't think so." She pretended to be uncertain and doubtful. "Being
his first time, shouldn't we make it as natural as possible for him?"
"Well, that would be better, of course."
"Maybe if I get in the right position and back under him he'll get the
idea."
"Holy Jesus!" Art breathed hard. "You're right. You've got a hell of a
lot
more guts than I knew!"
Helen dropped to all fours, walking awkwardly on hands and feet, her
legs widely spread. She sidled under the donkey, bending her knees just
enough to maneuver her pussy against the point of Smoke's cock. That hard
head danced over her labia and settled at the rim of her cunt, and she
pushed back upon it. She saw Smokey heave his forefeet into the air and
waited breathlessly until he planted them on her back. To her relief, he
was
perfectly gentle, the touch of his hooves incredibly light. But his
hindquarters made up for that restraint. He hammered his huge cock home in
her with brutal blows, and she sagged with sick desire for his jism.
"Honey? Art! . . . "
"What?"
"Reach under me , honey. Get hold of my breasts. Do you know how to
milk?"
"Hell, yes! But . . . ?
"Just get right in front of me. On your knees. Milk me, baby. Please!
Milk my tits while Smokey fucks me."
"Oh, shit! What a fantastic broad! Okay!"
Art knelt before her. She gulped his cockhead into her mouth and
sucked desperately while he milked her throbbing nipples and Smokey
pumped his donkey-cock into her cunt. A wave of sheer bliss welled in her.
'There's times,' she thought. 'There's times when everything's in the
right
place!'
THE END
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