Chapter 5
The experience with Janice let loose a veritable flood of dangerous little demons. Wild, incestuous fantasies filled my soul with uncontrollable desire. Passions that I had tried extremely hard to repress were once again awakened. The more I tried to fight them, the weaker I became. I was drowning, struggling like a helpless animal, splashing around in the waters of forbidden lust.
"I don't know what's wrong with me," I confessed to Stephanie one afternoon, hoping that she would be able to help me. "I have these weird dreams."
"What kind of dreams are they?"
"Well, they're about my mother," I admitted. "Last night, for instance, I dreamed that I was riding in a carriage with my mother sitting next to me. The two of us drove out to the countryside, to a river. Then I bent over and kissed her, and before I knew it, I had my hands under her dress. I dragged her under a tree, stripped her naked and fucked her. I woke up in a cold sweat."
"It sounds awful," sighed Stephanie.
"It's driving me crazy," I continued. "It wouldn't bother me so much, if I thought that I would be able to control myself, but I don't think that I can. Remember yesterday afternoon, when I was in bed with you."
"So?"
"Well, I did an awful thing. While I was screwing you, I pretended that it was her that I was screwing."
"You didn't!! ! "
"Yes, I did," I confessed. "It seems as though I constantly have my mother on my brain. I don't know exactly what's causing it. Maybe that affair with Janice triggered the whole thing? Maybe not? Anyway, I just can't seem to get her off my mind."
"Maybe it's one of those temporary things," said Stephanie, the eternal optimist. "In a little while you'll get better. Meanwhile, I wish that you would relax. You're running yourself ragged with guilt."
I tried to follow Stephanie's advice, to no avail. Instead of abating, my feelings for my mother grew stronger, wilder, more intense. I would stare at her in a most shameful manner. When she bent over to pick something up, I would take a quick look under her dress. The sight of her soft, smooth legs were enough to drive me to ecstasy.
Some days, after school, I would lock myself in the bathroom and go through the laundry hamper, searching for her most intimate apparel. I would take her smelly panties and press them to my nose. I would rub my cock with her bra. Once I even came in one of the cups, which proved to be quite messy.
Soon I began looking through keyholes, while my mother was getting dressed. I would watch her roll up her stockings and her undergarments while my mind was filled with wild, forbidden desire. Once, I even bumped into her deliberately, and secretly rubbed my lecherous paws across her breasts and stomach. I watched myself slowly descending to the lowest depths of forbidden lust, completely unable to control myself.
It wasn't long before my mother became aware of my passions. At first she ignored me, hoping that things would get better. Finally, seeing no choice, she decided to have it out with me, face to face.
It all started on a Wednesday afternoon, at about four o'clock. The two of us were all alone in the house. I was in my room, taking a nap, when my mother came in.
"Oh, Bobby," she said. "Have you got a minute?"
When I saw her standing in the doorway, I nearly jumped out of my skin. She was wearing a blue skirt, and a white cotton blouse, and her hair was tied in a neat ponytail. Her face was extremely attractive, almost radiant. Her large almond eyes sparkled. Her thick lips glistened with moisture.
"Oh Bobby," she repeated. "I want to talk to you. I hope that I'm not disturbing you or anything."
"No, it's okay," I coughed, my body surging with raw sexual desire. I wanted to lunge out at her and tear off her clothes. I was much bigger than she, much stronger. There was nothing that she would really be able to do to me. There was really no way that she could resist.
She walked into the room, and sat down in a chair. She was careful to pat down her dress, and keep her legs locked together. Even so, I was still aroused. I kept thinking about her soft body, about her luscious breasts and creamy wet nest. My penis suddenly grew hard, inside of my pants. My heart was racing at breakneck speed.
"What do you want to talk about?" I asked, looking straight into her eyes.
"About you," she replied. "You've been acting a little bit funny. I don't know what to attribute it to. At first I thought it was the spring weather. But now, I'm getting worried."
"Oh...."
"Tell me the truth Bobby," she continued. "Why do you look at me the way you do all the time. I feel like you're molesting me with your eyes. It's terrible. Even your father has noticed it and he's asked me to talk to you about it."
"You're imagining things," I said defensively.
"I wish that I were," she replied. "But I know when someone is ogling me."
"I never ogle you," I protested.
"Oh yes you do," insisted my mother. "You're doing it even now. You look at me in this strange way, as though you want to go to bed with me."
I gulped hard, unable to answer, unable to open my mouth. So she was on to me. There was no point in hiding it any longer. Maybe if I confessed, it would be better? Maybe if I told her the truth, the terrible nightmare would come to an end? I looked up at the ceiling, and then down at the floor, trying to compose myself, trying to think of the right words to say to her.
"What's the matter, Bobby?" asked my mother. "Cat got your tongue. You look like you're about to faint. Do you want me to get you a glass of water or something?"
"No, I'm okay," I whispered hoarsely. "I just want to tell you...."
"What?"
"I want to tell you that I love you."
"Of course you love me," she replied. "You're a good boy and I know that you love me."
"You don't understand," I continued. "The love that I feel for you isn't natural."
"Oh..."
"I don't love you the way a son is supposed to love his mother."
"What are you trying to say, Bobby?"
"I'm trying to say... I want you. I want to take you into my arms and hug you and kiss you. I want to make love to you the way a man makes love to a woman. I want to touch your naked body, your naked breasts."
My mother was shocked, horrified. Her face turned blue, and her hands began to tremble.
"Is that why you've been acting so strangely?" she finally said.
"Yes," I nodded. "I couldn't help myself. I mean, I tried to control my desires, but it was impossible."
"How did it start?" asked my mother in a shaky voice.
"Well, I guess it started about a month ago," I confessed. "Remember the day that Janice quit her job at the supermarket? It was a Thursday afternoon."
"Yes, I remember. But what does that have to do with anything."
"A terrible thing happened between me and Janice that day."
"What sort of thing?"
"We went to bed together," I explained. "I guess that's as plainly as I can put it. We were all alone in the house, because Dad was at work and you were out shopping. One thing led to another, and before we knew it we were fucking one another. Yes, that's as plainly as I can say it."
"I don't believe you," coughed my mother, visibly disturbed. "You were such a good boy, Bobby. You were such a fine boy. I've always had the highest regard for you. I've always had a great deal of respect for you, even when you were a little child. You always seemed terribly grown-up, terribly mature."
"I hope that you don't hate me."
"No, I don't hate you at all," she whispered. "What happened between yourself and your sister is a part of the past. Anyways, I'm sure that it was all her fault. You're a good boy, any you wouldn't have done anything that was bad. Janice is the evil one. I should have thrown her out of the house a long time ago. After she ran away and married that ass, I should never have let her come back. She's a filthy bitch."
"It was partly my fault," I interrupted. "You shouldn't go and put the blame entirely on her. If I had been able to keep my head, then nothing would have happened."
"I see."
"But what happened between me and Janice is nothing when I think what might happen between me and you. I'm scared of the terrible feelings, that I experience when I'm in your presence. My affair with Janice triggered them, and now I don't know what to do with myself. I feel lost, completely abandoned."
"You poor baby," cried my mother. Although my revelations had shocked her, they had also managed to evoke a great deal of sympathy. I could see that she felt sorry for me, and wanted to comfort me.
"You poor, poor baby," she cried again, getting out of her seat. She walked over to me, and she sat down on the bed, reaching out and taking my hand.
"I love you, Mother," I whispered. "I know it's awful, but there's nothing that I can do about it. Sometimes, when you're in the bathroom, taking a shower, I stare through the keyhole and watch you. I've seen you plenty of times naked."
"Oh...."
I decided that I would tell her everything.
"Yes, once I even looked into your bedroom late at night, when you were alone with Dad. I watched the way he fucked you, and I felt terribly jealous."
"You were jealous?"
"Yes," I replied. "I hated to see you in bed with another man. I wanted to have you all to myself. I guess that I've really felt this way ever since I was a little boy. I've never been able to admit it to myself till right now."
My mother threw her arms around me, and pulled me close to her, hugging me affectionately.
I'm not sure whether or not she was deliberately trying to arouse me. I guess it really makes no difference. Before either of us knew what was happening, we were locked in a heated embrace. Soon I began to kiss her full on the mouth. Yes, very soon I was kissing my own mother on her sweet, thick lips.
"No," she protested feebly, as I pushed my face down to her neck and throat. I nibbled on her ear, and on her soft shoulders leaving little vampire marks as a sign of my great affection.
"Oh, Bobby, please stop it," she cried weakly, as my long, lascivious tongue darted into her full, sweet mouth. I rubbed it against the inside of her cheeks, against her teeth and gums in a most intimate fashion. Soon she stopped her protests, lost in my warm embrace.
"Oh Bobby," she moaned, tightening her arms around my neck. "You're a good boy, Bobby. You're a very good boy and you would never do anything wrong that was wrong."
"Never...."
"You love me, Bobby. Don't you love me better than anyone else in the whole world?"
"Yes, much better," I sighed, placing my hands on her full, round bosom. I squeezed her breasts through her blouse and brassiere, and she responded most ardently to my onslaught. It was as though I had pressed some magic button. She began to pant like a wild bitch, clawing at my face and neck.
"Oh Bobby, why is this happening?" she suddenly asked. "I don't want this to happen."
"Neither do I."
"Then why am I letting you kiss me in this way? Why do I let you grab me in this way?"
"Because you like it," I whispered. "Don't you enjoy it when I massage your titties."
"Yes!"
"Don't you want me to put my hands underneath your skirt? Don't you want to feel my fingers on your cunt? Don't you want me to pet you and stroke you?"
"No Bobby," she cried. "Let's stop while we still can. Let's not go on with this. It can only lead to sadness. It can only lead to misery."
I hardly heard what she was saying. As she spoke, I lowered my hands to the hem of her skirt. I grabbed hold of her knees and pulled them apart. She offered very little resistance. She was wearing a pair of nylons underneath, and as my fingers climbed up her legs they made a soft, almost imperceptible hiss. Soon I had reached the sweet, milky white flesh of her inner thighs. They were hot, and my hands moved gently across their silky smooth surface.
"Oh please, Bobby!" my mother suddenly cried.
"What is it?"
"Oh please, Bobby, don't touch me over there. If you do, then it'll be too late for either of us to stop. Turn back now, while you still can."
"I'm sorry," I whispered. "But it's impossible for me to control myself. You can't imagine how long I've waited for this moment. You can't imagine how many nights I've dreamed about being in this position."
"But it's wrong!"
"Yes," I agreed. "Of course it's wrong. Don't you think I know? But this is an obsession with me. I want to touch your cunt. You can't imagine how badly I want to touch it. I'm willing to do anything for it, even sell my soul if necessary."
"Then be gentle, Bobby," she finally said, realizing that there was no turning back. Her thighs were trembling as my fingers fondled them. I rubbed her up nice and soft. Her churning cunt was wet and gooey, hot with sexual passion.
"You're a good boy, Bobby," she suddenly began to cry. "You're the best boy in this whole world. There isn't a boy like you anywhere. You would never do anything wrong, would you now? You would never do anything that would hurt your mother. Oh please tell me that you won't hurt me."
"Don't worry," I said, reassuringly. By this time I had worked myself all the way up to her crotch, to the very seat of her feminine sexuality. First I rubbed my fingers against the gash of her cunt through the thin, wet material of her panties. Then I climbed underneath, pulling open the leg of her undergarment, and then sliding inside. I can't describe the pleasure which I experienced when I first touched my mother's naked pussy. I can't imagine anything being so soft and warm. I felt like a little child, and I wanted to climb inside of it. I wanted to lose myself inside of her body, disappear inside of her womb.
"Oh Mom, I love you," I suddenly said.
"And I love you too," she replied, pressing my face to her bosom.
I gently wiggled my finger between the lobes of her cunt, pushing it all the way into her murky soft orifice. She was slick as a bitch in heat, dripping with sweet, feminine syrup. It oozed out of her in a most delightful manner, staining her parity briefs at the crotch. And of course, the oily goo spilled all over my hand, till it was completely covered. I began to itch all over, as obscene thoughts filled my head. I could hardly believe what I was doing. I could hardly believe that I actually had my hand, all the way up my mother's skirt, pressing right up against her cunt.
"That's a good boy," she cried, as I played with the enflamed gash. I stroked it softly, the way you would stroke a pussy cat. I massaged it and manipulated it in a most delightful manner. I kept drilling my fingers in and out of the hole, like a little child exploring a strange cavern.
"My clit," she suddenly whispered.
I immediately knew what she wanted. I reached up to the fleshy folds, just above the little hole of her urethra, and I grabbed hold of her pearl shaped clitoris. The little devil was slippery, throbbing wildly. I held it firmly between my thumb and forefinger and I applied a smooth, vigorous friction to its surface.
"That feels nice," my mother cried, nearly jumping out of her skin with pleasure, the way any ordinary woman would. Somehow I felt strange as I watched the way she melted in my embrace. I mean, subconsciously I felt that it was wrong for my mother to enjoy sex. I expected her to react passively, without emotion. At least that's the way I thought that she would react.
Instead, she was heaving and shaking in a most shameful manner. She rubbed her breasts against my face, and she kissed my forehead and my neck with great enthusiasm. When I made her lie down on the bed, she made no attempt to resist or escape. For some reason, I felt disappointed in her. I wanted her to fight me. I wanted her to struggle. When she didn't, I felt a great contempt for her, a disgust.
"Take off your clothes, Bobby," she whispered. "And while you're at it, take off my clothes too. It'll be easier that way for us. It'll be much more fun."
"Of course," I muttered, pulling my hand away from her steamy cunt. She was lying on the bed, her ponytail resting neatly across her shoulders. I examined her face for several seconds. The unmistakable signs of age and decay were clearly visible. Small, but obvious wrinkles were beginning to form under her eyes and chin. In a few more years she would be old, aged. There was no way to stop the process. But for now, she was still beautiful, still extremely desirable. I bent over and kissed her nose.
"Oh. Bobby, what are we doing?" she suddenly asked.
"Don't worry," I replied, reaching for the top ' button of her blouse, undoing it. Then I worked my way down, till all the buttons were off. Then I made her get up, and I reached for the hooks of her brassiere. Soon she was completely naked from the waist up.
"How do you like them?" she asked, as I stared at her naked mammaries. They were large and round, like two half globes of soft, creamy white flesh. Her nipples stiffened under my gaze, magically.
"You're beautiful," I whispered. "Do you really think so?"
"Yes," I replied. "You're the most beautiful thing that I've ever seen."
"You're lying," she suddenly said. "I know that you're lying. I saw the way that you stared at my face just a second ago. I saw the way you were looking at my wrinkles. I know what you must have been thinking."
"Don't be silly," I said, cupping my palms over her exposed breasts. I squeezed and fondled them very gently. I rubbed them softly with the very tips of my fingers, kneading them the way a baker would knead two mounds of soft dough. I was especially pleased by her large, cherry shaped nipples. They responded most delightfully to my manipulations. I squeezed them with my hands and pinched them with my fingers. Then I bent over and bit them with my teeth and rolled them around in my mouth.
"That feels good, Bobby," she cried. "You're an experienced lover. You certainly know what you're doing. Where did you learn?"
"I get around."
"Young people are much freer today, I suppose," she sighed. "I'll bet that you probably have more experience than I do, and I'm nearly twice your age. How many girls have you made love to?"
"A couple."
"Oh, tell me how many," repeated my mother insistently. "I want to know everything."
"Well," I muttered. "About seven or eight."
"That many," exclaimed my mother. "You certainly are a very prolific young man."
"Well, I get around," I laughed, as I reached for the zipper at the side of her skirt. I slowly pulled it down, and soon she was lying on the bed, wearing only a white panty-girdle, and a pair of nylons. I could see a red patch of pubic hair fluff up through the crotch. She looked absolutely delightful, as I lunged to the waistband of her panties. I ripped them off, tearing away her stockings, so that she was completely naked. She seemed a bit embarrassed as I stared at her.
"What are you looking at?" she asked.
"At you," I replied. "At your delicious cunt."
"Don't talk like that," she sighed. "It makes me feel cheap."
"You shouldn't," I whispered, as I bent over and kissed her flat white belly, sticking my tongue into her navel. I watched as she squirmed nervously on the bed, quite pleased with myself. I felt somewhat like a hunter who had just bagged his prey. There was a broad smile on my face.
"Do you think that I'm pretty?" she suddenly asked.
"You're beautiful."
"How do I measure up to the other girls that you've known. I must be an old, ugly duckling when compared to them. I'll bet that you think I look ghastly."
"Not at all," I replied. "I really think that you're beautiful. You've got a nice body. It's full, if you know what I mean. I like woman who are well built. I can't stand those skinny chippies that look more like young boys than girls. They just don't turn me on."
"Do I?" asked my mother. "Do I really turn you on?"
"You certainly do," I nodded, unbuckling my belt, and stripping off my trousers and shorts. My mother watched me quite nervously. When I was finally naked, she eagerly reached out and grabbed hold of my phallus. She held it firmly, pulling at it with all of her might.
"You certainly have grown," she laughed. "I remember when you were a little boy. You had a tiny little pecker. Even then I liked to touch it. When I used to bathe you, I would always rub my fingers against it."
"Oh?" I laughed. "You must have been a dirty old woman."
"I suppose I was. I guess I never really admitted it to myself, but your naked body always turned me on. It got my blood boiling. Is that normal, I wonder? Do other women experience the same feelings? Maybe I'm a freak, or something like that."
"Oh, don't worry," I said. "Just don't let it bother you and everything will be all right."
"I hope so," she sighed. "Anyways, I wonder what would happen if your father saw us here together. The two of us would really be in a fine soup. I've never been a very good wife to him."
"Why do you say that?"
"Well, I've never really loved him, I suppose. You see, he doesn't arouse me, the way you do. I simply can't explain it at all. I mean, Alex is a fine, handsome man and he's been a wonderful husband. But in bed, he's just a dud as far as I'm concerned."
I suddenly thought back, to the time that I had seen the two of them together. I remembered how he had been impotent. I remembered the big argument that they had had.
"You mean to tell me that you don't have a good sex life with Father?" I asked.
"That's the understatement of the century," laughed my mother. "Half of the time he can't even get his pecker hard. I tell you, it's just awful on me. Most women are supposed to lose their interest in sex as they get older. With me it's just the opposite. Lately I feel like I'm standing on pins and needles. I need it almost every night, and I think that I wouldn't mind a little dose of it in the afternoon either. Do you know that last week I almost cheated on Alex, with a complete stranger."
"Oh!" I said, quite shocked. It was as though my mother's personality was suddenly acquiring a new dimension. All along, I had never thought that she had physical needs like other women. I guess everyone feels that way about his mother.
"Yes," she continued. "Last Tuesday I went shopping at Kings Plaza. Remember that nice dress that I bought myself for the summer."
"Yes, I remember."
"Well, after leaving the department store, I bumped into this man. You know, I wasn't looking where I was going and he wasn't paying attention either. Well, before I knew it the two of us got to talking over a cup of coffee."
"What happened?"
"Nothing happened," replied my mother. "Lucky for me, his wife joined us at the coffee shop. You see, he was waiting for her. If he had been alone, I think that I would have made a play for him."
"It sounds like you must really be horny."
"If I wasn't, do you think that I would be here with you right now."
She squeezed my pecker once again, rubbing it nice and soft with her smooth fingers. She reached underneath, to my testicles and she gathered them up, and began to massage them tenderly. It was as though she had found a new toy to play with.
"I like your cock," she said. "It's nice and big. But most importantly, it's hard. You can't imagine how I've longed for a nice hard cock to touch. Your father can only get an erection on rare occasions. Most of the time, his thing is soft and mushy, like a flat tire. I feel sorry for the poor man. He went to the doctor, you know and there's nothing that they can do for him."
Suddenly I remembered the conversation that I had heard through the door between my mother and father. I remembered how he had told her that there was nothing physically wrong with him, that his impotence was of psychological nature. I remembered the remedy that the doctor had suggested.
"Hey," I said. "Did you ever give Dad a blow-job?"
"A blow-job? Does that mean taking his pecker into my mouth?"
"Yes," I nodded. "Did you ever do that to him?"
"No," replied my mother. "As a matter-of-fact, he's requested it several times, but I've never obliged him. The act has always seemed rather disgusting."
"It really isn't," I laughed. "I know lots of girls who love to do that."
"You mean that they actually suck your cock?"
"Yes, sure! Why shouldn't they?"
"Because it's unsanitary. I mean, I eat food with my mouth. I would feel rather funny if I let a man put his genitals inside. I've always heard that it's a perversion."
"No, it isn't," I explained. "It's quite a rage these days. My girlfriend Stephanie tells me that everyone is doing it. She has some friends who go to college, and they write that it's very popular among the coeds."
My mother seemed curious: "What exactly is it that they do?"
"Don't you know?"
"Well, I know that some women, immoral ones, take a man's penis into their mouths. But after they've got it inside, what happens?"
"Well, they kiss it and they lick it and suck on it."
"Really? It sounds ghastly. Do they do it till the man ejaculates?"
"Yes, that's exactly what they do," I nodded.
"Do you actually mean to tell me that they let a man shoot his load inside of their mouths?"
"Yes, they suck the juice right out and then they either swallow it or they spit it out. Most girls swallow the stuff. I don't think that it's really harmful or anything like that. In fact, I've read in a book that the practice is perfectly normal."
"Is it really?" asked my mother in a strange tone of voice. She was still holding my cock in her hands, and she seemed to look at it rather curiously, as though she was playing with the idea of taking it into her mouth.
"You know," she suddenly whispered. "I never used to like olives. Yes, I used to hate olives. I thought that they were bitter and ugly tasting. But then, after awhile I got used to the taste. Now, I happen to be quite fond of them. Do you suppose that the same thing could happen with cocksucking? Do you think that if I did it awhile, I could grow to like it? I wonder if that would happen?"
"Sure," I said.
"Oh, I feel fidgety inside."
"Don't worry about a thing," I whispered assuringly. I placed my hand behind my mother's neck, and I gently pushed it down, toward my phallus. She seemed reluctant at first, but she soon gained enthusiasm.
"Go on," I whispered. "Kiss it. It's not poison. It won't harm you."
"Should I really."
"Yes, go on."
"Oh," she screamed, pressing her lips against the enflamed cockhead. She began to kiss it in a most tender fashion, licking it on top and underneath. Her tongue was long and eager, as it rolled across the hard, blue-veined surface of my phallus. She covered the mighty organ from the tip to the base with her wet, sweet saliva. She laved it tenderly, making me lie down flat on my back.
"Oh, Bobby," she whispered. "I think that I'm going to like this."
She opened her lips wide, and then she swallowed me up the way a fish would swallow a worm. I could feel her hot, inner cheeks pressing against my cock. I could feel the sharp strokes of her teeth rip across its white surface. She applied an exhilarating friction with her thick, wet lips, rolling them back and forth in a rhythmical fashion.
I closed my eyes, and felt a warm, passionate glow spread across my body. My fondest dreams were now becoming a reality. My own mother was sucking my cock. She was licking it. She had it deep inside of her mouth. I could feel her teeth chewing away at it, ripping and biting at the hot tool.
"That's good," I cried. "Am I hurting you?" she asked suddenly. "No, you're not hurting me," I assured her. "It feels great."
"I'm glad," she laughed, nuzzling her face between my legs. She kissed my hot loins, and my rumbling testicles. She took my genitals and she rubbed them across her face. Then she opened her mouth once again, and she swallowed my cock. She sucked on it beautifully, as though she was an experienced whore. She licked its surface, till I couldn't stand it any longer.
"Oh shit!" I screamed. "Oh shit!"
"What the matter?" she asked, her mouth still full.
"Go on, continue," I said, getting up, and pushing her face down on my organ. I jammed it into her throat, holding her head tightly. I ran my fingers through her thick, red hair. I stroked her neck and arms, as I felt a raw, uncontrollable energy source through my body.
"Go on!" I cried. "I can feel it now! Shit, I can feel it!"
My body suddenly screamed, as the hot cream squirted out of cock. I can't describe the pleasure that I felt at that moment. My heart almost burst. Every muscle in my body was trembling.
"Ahguhhhhhhhh...." I cried, thrusting my pelvis in the direction of her face, ramming my rod deeper and deeper into her sweet mouth. In all my days, I had never experienced a better blowjob. My mother was a natural. She had done everything perfectly well.
"That's a good girl," I said, patting her head in a patronizing fashion. She continued to suck on my cock for several more moments, till she had milked me dry. Then she gave the slowly receding organ one last kiss, the good-bye kiss, before getting up. Her mouth was still full of semen, which she still hadn't swallowed. She made me lie down flat on my back once again, and she spilled the goo onto my stomach.
"I just want to see what it looks like," she said. "I don't know whether I should swallow it or not."
"Sure," I whispered. "Go on, and lick it up and swallow it. You'll enjoy it, I promise."
"Yes, I guess," she nodded, bending over me, like a cat. She lapped the cream up with her long, lascivious tongue, licking it off my stomach.
"Wow!" she exclaimed. "I ate the wh-o-o-ole thing!"
"You bet you did," I laughed, getting up to kiss her mouth. I was exhausted, and my cock was soft as a rubber tube. I don't think that I was ever so happy in my entire life. I was completely satisfied.
"Was I good?" she suddenly asked, snuggling close to me.
"Sure you were good," I said. "You were the best that I ever had."
"It's nice to hear you say that, Bobby. I feel very happy."
Later that afternoon, when my strength was revived, the two of us were at it again. This time, I did it to her the normal way. She had a nice, hot, steamy wet cunt. When I got my prick inside of her, I felt as though she was ripping it off of me.
When it was all over, my mother got dressed hurriedly. It was almost seven o'clock in the evening, and Father would be home at any moment.
"Listen," she whispered before leaving. "I want you to promise that you won't tell anyone about what happened."
"Mom's the word," I replied, watching her leave the room.