Chapter 7

The decision to leave home was difficult but necessary. I couldn't stand living there, with my mother and Janice constantly teasing me, tempting me with their bodies. There was no way that I could resist, no matter how much I tried. It was as though I was a slave to my own incestuous fantasies, unable to break the chains of forbidden desire.

"Come to bed, Bobby," Janice would say to me, and I would run after her like a dog after a bitch. She always dressed provocatively when she was alone with me, never wearing a brassiere or panties underneath. Whenever we had a moment together she would always reach out and grab for my zipper, for my cock. It seemed as though she was always ready for a sneaky kiss, a sneaky feel, a sneaky fuck.

"Come on," she would cry. "Let's do it now, while Mom and Dad are away."

"No," I would protest feebly, as she pressed her breasts in my face, grinding her sweet, young pelvis in my direction. Before I knew what was happening, I would have my hands stuck up her dress, against the creamy mound of her cunt, rubbing and massaging it against my will. A second later, I would climb on top of her and we would be screwing again.

Maybe it wouldn't have been so bad, if my sexual adventures had been confined to my sister alone. Then, I probably would have been able to bear it, to rationalize the guilt away. Even more disturbing, from a psychological point of view, was the affair that I was now having on a regular basis, with my own dear mother.

After our first time together, we slipped into the habit quite easily, almost effortlessly. There were plenty of occasions when the two of us were alone together, especially now that Janice was working in the afternoon at a department store. I would come home from school, and my mother would be waiting for me in a see through negligee, a soft, sultry look on her face.

"Oh Bobby, I missed you," she would cry, twisting her arms around my neck, bending down to kiss my fly. She was savage in her lust, wild as an animal. It was as though she changed from one moment to another. When my dad was home, she was always sweet and pure, the model housewife, the model mother. But when we were alone, she was suddenly transformed into a desperate woman with an uncontrollable sexual appetite.

"Oh Bobby," she would cry. "Please fuck me, Bobby. Please fuck the living daylights out of me. Oh, I've been waiting all day for you to come home, for this moment."

There were plenty of times when I tried to say no, when I tried to refuse her offers. There were many occasions when I attempted to resist her wild onslaughts. But in the end she always emerged the victor, and my struggle seemed hopeless and futile.

"Bobby, you know that you want me," she would laugh as I protested.

"Please leave me alone," I would beg.'

"I know you don't mean it," she would say, walking up to me, bending over to kiss me on the mouth. Her lips were sweet and intoxicating, like summer wine. Her body was soft and enticing. Before I knew what was happening, my hands would be clawing at her negligee, groping for her muff. I would pull down her panties, and reach for the reassuring warmth of her naked cunt, Suddenly the guilt and shame that I felt would disappear, replaced by maddening desire, by forbidden lust. It was as though incestuous sex had become an addiction with me, and there were many times when I felt just like a junkie, racing down the road toward destruction, unable to stop myself in time.

"Oh Bobby," she would say to me. "Don't you want me, Bobby? Don't you love me."

"Yes, yes I want you."

"Tell me how much you want me?" she would ask, her hands inside of my trousers, inside of my shorts, lunging eagerly for my aroused phallus.

"Tell me how much you want me," she would ask.

"A lot," I would reply, using words that I had spoken dozens of times before. "I want you more than anything else in this entire world, Mother. I love you and need you and crave for you desperately."

"That's a good boy, Bobby. Tell me how beautiful I am. Please, Bobby, tell me how young and beautiful I am."

"You're more beautiful than anyone," I would say to her slowly. "You're young and ravishing. There isn't a woman in the whole world who is as young and as ravishing as you are. That's why I love you so much."

The two of us fucked almost everywhere in the house. I did it to her on the couch, on the floor, on the table, on the bed, even in the bathtub. There is one thing that I have to say about my mother-she sure did know how to fuck. She had the fastest pussy that I ever did see. It may have been a little old, but like wine, it had improved with age. She was always well lubricated, slick and wet as a pond. When I had my cock up against her muff, she would suck me into her like a vacuum cleaner. It was almost uncanny, as I watched her body grind like a sex machine, ripping and chewing away at my hot, throbbing erection. I would close my eyes and I was in seventh heaven, at the very gates of paradise, waiting for the final, triumphant entry-which usually came in a giant, climactic orgasm. My mother and I were well synchronized, and as though by magic, we always came together, which is not an easy thing to do. There wasn't a single time when our sexual intimacies did not lead to complete satisfaction for the two of us.

"It means that we were meant for each other," she would say with a wicked smile on her face.

"I guess," I would reply, unconvinced. When I was with her, I was always able to stifle my revulsion, my shame, my severe sense of guilt. But afterwards, as the saying goes, I paid the price. My performance at school was just terrible, and my grades suffered. My basketball coach was also surprised by my erratic performance.

"What's wrong with you, Bobby?" he would ask. "One minute you're the star of the team, and the next minute you're the biggest schmuck that ever lived. You've got to snap out of it, kid. You've got to get back into gear."

Yeah, I sure did have to get into gear, and there was only one way to do it: by leaving home. At first I was a little scared of making the move, but soon the idea was firmly fixed in my brain and there was no turning back. I've got to thank Stephanie for encouraging me, and of course I've got to thank Helene for being willing to take me in. When I finally got up the courage to tell my mother, she was absolutely infuriated with me.

"You're what?" she screamed. It was one of those hot, sweaty afternoons towards the end of July. School had been out for about a month, and in all that time I had been bracing myself for the announcement. I was sure that my father wouldn't mind very much if I left the house. I think that he was beginning to suspect that there was some hanky-panky going on between me and Mother, and he would have been glad to be rid of me. My sister also wouldn't care too much, because the affair between the two of us had grown tepid and dull. I think that she was rather bored with me by now, and had already started something with a big stud of a guy who worked with her in the department store.

So it all boiled down to my mother, who was still passionately in love with me and who simply couldn't accept the idea that I was leaving her, running away from her embrace. At first she was saddened by the announcement

"Oh Bobby, you can't mean that you're really going."

"I'm afraid so," I explained. "It'll be better for the two of us if I left."

"You can't believe that."

"I do."

She had a sad look in her eyes, and suddenly she began to weep openly, I felt sorry for her, and yet I knew that there was nothing that I could do, that there was no way that we could continue our relationship any longer. After all, she was my mother and I was her son. Our love was doomed from its slimy inception, from its grotesque beginning. It was time to put an end to our affair, before the affair put an end to us.

"Don't cry mother," I whispered.

"Don't call me Mother," she screamed angrily. "Call me Edith. I don't want to be your mother. I hate when you call me Mother. I want to be your wife, your lover. I want to be with you always. Please don't leave me. I can't stand the thought."

"But I have to," I said, staring at her. She was wearing a very alluring, two piece hot-pants outfit, that hugged the curves of her body very nicely. I looked down at the crotch of her shorts, and I could see the folds of her cunt, sticking out very nicely, very sensually. She was a good woman, a strikingly beautiful woman. But, at forty, she was afraid of getting old, of getting ugly. Maybe that's why she wanted me so desperately? Maybe that's why older women, especially in their middle years, are so notorious for having love affairs with young boys-the younger the better. I suppose that it serves to reassure them of their femininity, of their sexual attraction.

"You can't leave me," she suddenly said. "You'll never leave me, Bobby. Please tell me that you'll never leave me."

"No, I've got to."

"No you don't," she whimpered, wiping the tear from her eyes. "I won't let you leave me."

Suddenly, without waiting a second, she unbuttoned her blouse. She wasn't wearing a brassiere underneath, so that I could see the large, ripe breasts that she held up in her hands, baring them before me.

"Look at my titties," she sighed. "Don't tell me that you can run away from them. Nobody can run away from them. Come here, Bobby, kiss them."

"No."

"You've never been able to resist before," she whispered fiercely, padding in her slippers across the living room carpet. She brought herself close to me, so close that I could hear the beating of her heart and feel the heat of her body sear into my flesh. I thought for a second, that I could smell the sweet aroma of her cunt, so I backed away defensively, not wanting to fall victim again to her sexual lure.

"What's the matter, Bobby?" she asked. "Are you afraid of me? There's really no reason why you ought to be afraid. I won't eat you, or anything like that. Then, with a twinkle in her eye-"if you're lucky, maybe I will eat you. Don't you want me to do that to you? Don't you want me to take your hot, throbbing cock into my mouth? Don't you want me to kiss your balls and lick them with my tongue?"

"Oh stop it," I protested to no avail. She only moved closer to me, much closer, brushing her burning nipples against my arms, shaking her hips and her pelvis in an erotically suggestive manner. I could see that she was hot, horny, ready for some action. I guess that the thought of losing me had enflamed her, put steel into her loins. There was that special, excited look in her eye-the one that I knew well, maybe too well.

"Come on, Bobby," she laughed. "Don't you want to fuck me? Don't you want to put that big cock of yours inside of me. Make believe that I'm a chippy from school, a young beautiful girl. You can pretend, can't you?"

"NO."

"What's the matter? Do you think I'm ugly? Is that it?" asked my mother. "Is that the reason that you don't love me anymore? Is that the reason that you want to run away from me?"

"No, don't put words into my mouth."

"Then what is it?"

"I told you," I exclaimed. "What happens between us is no good. What would happen if Dad ever found out about us? Then we would really be in hot soup. Don't you think that it's best to make a clean break, right now, while there's still time, while we still can?"

"Is that what it is? Are you afraid of your father? Are you scared that he'll find out about us?"

"Yes," I nodded. "Sooner or later he's bound to come home and see us together. We've been rather lucky till now. But your luck won't last."

"What would you say, if I told you that your father already knows? Yes, he knows about us, and he doesn't mind. I had a long talk with him about a month ago and explained everything to him."

"Oh...."

"Yes, and he took it quite well," continued my mother. "At first he was a bit agitated, a bit angry. But when I calmed him down, and reasoned with him, I was able to make him accept our special relationship. Every night, before we go to sleep, I always tell him what happened between me and you that afternoon. I always go into the most intimate details. I tell him how you put your dick into my cunt. I tell him the words you whispered into my ear while you were fucking me. I relate everything to him, right down to the most insignificant detail. He becomes aroused, excited when he hears about me and you. Yes, it turns him on. In the past month, he's been hard every night."

I couldn't believe my own ears. Was it true? Could it possibly be true that my own father was already aware of what I was doing with his wife, with my mother? Could he have known for an entire month, without dropping a hint? It seemed too incredible, too unbelievable. Yet, my mother had never lied to me before, and she didn't look like she was lying to me now. I felt a bit anxious, slightly aroused, like the cat that had eaten the canary.

"Dad knows," I repeated stupidly. "You mean that you actually told him."

"Yes," replied my mother again. "How many times do I have to tell you that he knows all about us, and he doesn't mind. Come over here, Bobby, don't back away. I want to kiss you, hug you. I want to cradle you in my arms and make sweet, sweet love to you."

"No..."

"Don't fight it," laughed my mother. "You know that you can't help yourself. Come over to me, touch my breasts, kiss them with your tongue. Go on, kiss them!"

Again, I was lost, like a drowning man. The wild passions of forbidden sex washed over me, wave after wave, till I couldn't stand still any longer, till I was unable to keep my balance, my equilibrium. I breathed deeply, trying to silence my palpitating heart. I could feel slight dampness in my palms, and a funny, queasy sensation in the pit of my stomach. I looked up, into my mother's soft, green eyes, and I felt helpless, like a little child.

"Come over here," she said again, tempting me with forbidden fruits, with forbidden pleasures. Almost like slave, I responded, walking forward, into her waiting arms. I fell on her, pressing my face into her cleavage, chewing at her hot breasts, licking and biting her soft, swollen nipples. I could feel a wild thrill shoot up and down my spine, as I reached down with my hands, to her back, to her moon shaped buttocks. I squeezed them desperately, as I felt a wild fire shoot through my body.

"There now," she whispered. "That wasn't so bad. I know that you want my tit and my tush. Don't you like them, Bobby? Don't you just love to touch them?"

"Yes...."

"See, I know what you like," she laughed. "A mother always knows these things. Now tell me that you won't leave me. Tell me that you'll never leave me, that you'll drive such silly thoughts out of your head completely."

"Yes," I muttered, not completely in control of my faculties, not really knowing what I was saying. like a bull, I saw red in front of my eyes and I was enflamed, enraged, boiling madly.

"That's good boy," she laughed, as she rubbed her breasts with my face. Her hands were inside of my trousers, and she was lunging for my organ, for my swollen erection. She reached for it with her nimble fingers, holding it firmly, hard. She rubbed it back and forth vigorously, yanking and pulling at it with a desperation that I had rarely seen before.

"It's good," she said. "It's hard as a stone. Boy, would I like to put that pecker of yours inside of my mouth. I want to suck you dry, till there isn't anything left inside of your body. I want to milk out ever single drop of sweet cream that you've got in those gorgeous balls of yours. Oh Bobby, how can I prove how much I love you, how much I want you? Oh Bobby, if you only knew how much I needed you, then you would never, ever talk about leaving me."

I gasped, as I reached for the zipper of her hot pants, ripping it open. The crotch of her shorts spread apart, and very soon she was only wearing a pair of translucent bikini panties, the kind that she had grown quite fond of lately. When I reached down, between her legs, I could tell that she was slick and greasy, as well lubricated as necessary for a quick fuck-which I was in the mood for at that moment.

"Do it to me, Bobby," she whispered, able to read my most intimate thoughts. "Go on, Bobby, you can fuck me. I'm as hot as I'll ever be. Just the thought of losing you makes me hot as a bitch in heat."

I felt glad that we would be able to dispense with the formalities, with the foreplay, with the desperate groping and the romantic fondling. I was eager for the real thing, for the big bang, for the straight fuck. I felt somewhat like a man who goes to visit a prostitute, completely without obligations.

After all, that's what my mother really was: a prostitute. She was the one who had led me, seduced me against my will. I no longer wanted to whisper those sweet nothings in her ear, those lies which I had told her so many times before. I was no longer interested in boosting her ego, in telling her how beautiful she was, how much I loved her, how much I adored her. The only need that I was concerned with at that moment was my own intense sexual drive, my own wild passion. I could feel my cock throbbing like a hose, ready to explode in a giant ejaculation. I needed to put it somewhere, in a warm wet spot, where it would be safe, snug and comfortable. I needed to slip it into my mother's big, slippery cunt, into her dripping wet love nest.

"Go on," she said, adding fuel to the fire that was already burning inside of me. "Go on and put that cock inside of me, I want to feel it burn up my pussy, fill me with that nice gushy cream that's just waiting to explode."

I fell on her with a wild vengeance, ripping off her sopping wet panties, groping for the opening of her cunt. I managed to undress myself in great haste, dropping my trousers and shorts, till I was completely naked. My big cock was standing up at a forty-five degree angle, pointing up at the ceiling like a spear.

"Oh Bobby, come to me," she cried.

I jumped at her, and beat her down to the floor, to the soft green carpet. We rolled for awhile, till I was finally able to mount her. I held her firmly underneath me, pinning her legs and her arms, ramming my knee between her thighs. She spread open, just like a wet clam, willingly, eagerly. Her cunt was hot for my cock, dripping with slick feminine syrup. I bent over with my head to get a taste, pressing my lips to the thick folds of the labia, to the sweet mouth of her fragrant cunt. Then, without waiting, I got up, and rammed my rod into her. I was rough and hard with her, showing absolutely no tenderness, no affection. I was giving her what she wanted, what I wanted: pure, unadulterated sex.

"Fuck me good," she cried. "Bobby, fuck me the way you know that I like it. Fuck me the way you fuck those chippies at school. Fuck me the way all the women in the world are just begging to be fucked. Make me nice and full, till I can hardly stand it any longer."

Shit, she swallowed me up in one whole piece. I could see that she was really wanting it, needing it desperately. As soon as my cock touched the lips of her pussy, she opened up and sucked me into her whirlpool pit, grinding me up like a sausage, eating my meat, chewing it with the soft teeth of her steamy cunt.

I don't think that she ever fucked me the way she fucked me on that afternoon. The tenderness was gone, replaced by a violent, desperate clutching and clawing. I could feel her fingernails in my back, ripping my flesh in neat furrows, till the blood was running freely. She bit my shoulders and my neck and my face, leaving large welts in her wake. She held me inside of her cunt for as long as she possible could, sucking me deeper and deeper into the hole, as though she was trying to swallow me up, drown me in her sweet femininity.

As for me, I was trying to lose myself in her embrace, trying to forget the shameful thing that was happening to me. I felt weak and helpless for not being able to resist her allure, and at the same time I experienced wild, gushing energy. My hands clawed at her body, at her eager white flesh. I reached down, underneath, to her spine, to the small of her back, to her soft rump. I grabbed her mushy soft buttocks with my fingers, pinching them wickedly, till she almost screamed from the pain. As I continued to ram my big, dripping hot cock into her soft, yielding cunt, I clawed at her hot ass with my palms. I squeezed it gently at first, and then harder and harder and still harder. I gently eased my thumb into the crack, imbedding it inside of the pink anus. I shoved my thumb all the way up, continuing to hump her with my cock, to ram her with it, till she was burning up with an almost unquenchable thirst.

"Oh shit, Bobby," she cried. "It feels so good when you hurt me. I want you to hurt me more, and more till I can't stand the pain, till I faint. I just love you when you hurt me with your cock, when you stick it into me with all your might."

Sure she was enjoying it. I've never seen a bitch enjoy it so much. I felt great hatred for her, contempt. I wanted to whip her till she begged me to stop, till she passed out. That's how much I hated her at that moment.

But I didn't have much time for hatred in the position that I was in. Slowly, unmistakably, my body was building for, the final triumphant cataclysm, for that explosion that beats all explosions-for the greatest climax of them all. I could feel my blood pressure, which already was very high, grow higher and higher. My heart was racing like a jackhammer, and all the muscles in my body were tightening till they were almost ready to snap. My balls were quivering wildly, and I could feel the first drops of pre-ejaculatory fluid dribble out of the swollen nostril of my cockhead. Soon there would be more, lots more. I would shoot gallons and gallons of cream into her cunt, rivers of seed, oceans of come. I would flood her body with my life fluids, with my liquid lust, with my silky smooth passion. Just one more minute. Just one minute longer.

"Now!" I screamed, bracing myself for the torrents that prepared to break out. "I'm coming! I'm coming!"

Then, without further delay, the sperm barreled out of the tip of my phallus, shooting deep into her yearning cunthole. She was prepared for the deluge, moaning and panting like a bitch. She timed the cycle just right, holding back her own orgasm, waiting desperately for my ejaculation.

"Oh Bobby," she cried. "Oh sweet, sweet Bobby."

The two of us rolled around on the floor, locked in our deadly embrace, trying to shake away the wild devils, the demons and hobgoblins that were torturing us with uncontrollable desire, with forbidden lust.

"Oh Bobby," she cried again, after I was done with my thing, after I had shot my entire load. "Oh Bobby, sweet, sweet Bobby."

I lay on top of her, with my semi-soft, flaccid pecker still lodged in her cunt, still stuck deep inside of her hole. I waited patiently as she experienced the sweet delights of her own glorious orgasm, of her own ecstatic climax. It took her about fifteen minutes till she was done, till she was completely exhausted. Her forehead was damp, and her glowing red hair was sticky with desperation. Her arms fell from my back, to the floor.

"Oh Bobby," she said. "That was the best ever. I really felt it when you came inside of me. I could feel every drop of your seed inside of my cunt. Gee, I hope that you made me pregnant. I want to have your baby, Bobby. You can't imagine how much I want it."

"Don't be a fool," I said.

"Am I a fool, because I love you?"

"But you're my mother."

She sighed: "Don't tell me that you're going to go over that again. Don't tell me that you're going to start bothering me with that nonsense. Why do you have to think of me as your mother? Why can't you think of me as a girlfriend. I could be your girlfriend, if I wanted to? I'm still young, and beautiful. Right?"

"Sure, sure!" I nodded, not wanting to get into an argument. "Sure you're beautiful. Sure you can be my girlfriend. You can be anything that you want, as far as I'm concerned. I would even marry you, if you weren't married. Remember?"

"But why can't I have two husbands?" she suddenly asked. "Do you know what I would like?"

"What?"

"I would like to have two men making love to me at the same time. I would just love to have you and Alex in bed with me."

"You've got to be kidding," I screamed, feeling slightly disgusted by the thought of fucking my mother while my father was watching, even participating. I trembled all over, afraid of the possibility. I knew that if I didn't leave the house right away, terrible things would follow. I mean, I had already taken the first steps down the road of ruin. What was to stop me from going even further?

I was already fucking my mother. The next step would be to fuck her while my father watched. After that, maybe my sister would join us in the conjugal bed. Who knows how far the terrible thing would go? Who knows what awful sins I would be driven to commit? People are capable of doing almost anything, in their desperate, hungry search for bigger and better thrills. My mother, my father, my sister-they were all proof of what could happen when the sexual urge was left uncontrolled. And what about me? I was certainly the biggest sinner of them all, the biggest bastard that was ever born. I knew that unless I left home immediately, I would be doomed to a miserable, shameful life.

"Oh Bobby," my mother suddenly said. "You've got that faraway look in your eyes. I hope that you've given up that silly notion of leaving me.

You know that you can't leave. I need you too much."

"No," I lied. "I'll never leave you."

"Do you promise."

"Sure I promise."

My mother came up" to me and kissed my face, and then put her head in my lap, rubbing her lips across my sticky penis. She seemed amused by it, enthralled.

"Yes, Bobby," she whispered. "The two of us are going to have a smashing good time from now on. I'm going to talk to your father and ask him if you can join us in bed at night. I don't think that he would object, when he knows how much I love you, and how much I want you."

"Yeah...."

"Your father is a wonderful man," she continued. "I'm sure that he would get a big kick out of watching you fuck me. I would make him look while you shoved your cock into my cunt. Then, after you're all finished I would let him have sloppy seconds. I don't think that he would mind."

"Yeah..."

"Now that I think of it," she continued. "Maybe the two of you can fuck me at the same time. One of you could do it to me in the .front while the other could do it to me in the back. It sounds like a rather complicated procedure, but I'm sure that these things can be worked out. I'll buy a book somewhere, that explains how it's done."

"Yeah..."

"Oh, Bobby," she cried. "The three of us will really be happy. I promise that you won't regret a thing."

"Yeah, I'm sure we'll be happy," I whispered.

That night I locked myself into my room and packed my clothes. I left without a sound, taking a bus to Helene's house. I felt somewhat like a man who has just escaped the guillotine-greatly relieved.