Chapter 1
Laura Norris staggered under the blow from her husband's fist. Her screams rent the night air as she fell against the kitchen stove, a tiny trickle of blood eking from her split lip. Jack "Red" Norris, her husband, was roaring drunk. His puffy lobster-red face was contorted with an insane rage. As Laura lay sprawled on the floor, her skirt apart, her pink panties visible beneath, Red roared at her, "Look at you, you slut! You're just a pig!"
"Don't touch me again, Red, please," she pleaded, trying to scramble away from him. Red lurched and leaned against the kitchen table, his eyes glazed with drink. Laura's screams brought her two children running into the kitchen. Rena, their fifteen-year-old daughter, viewed the scene with horror, her mouth open, stifling a scream of her own. Val, fourteen, a thin, dark youth, followed and both of them ran to their mother, helping her to her feet.
"Look at her," Red bellowed, "the goddamn slut. No food on the table, no thought about her husband. I oughta break her goddamned neck!"
"Don't you dare touch my mother," screamed Rena. She was a redhead like her father and had a soft beauty that had just begun to bloom in the past six months. She helped her mother to her feet. Laura was a trim, handsome woman in her mid-thirties, shapely still, with a face that was remarkably unlined. She was trembling with fear and pain, holding her hand to her mouth. Her dark eyes and hair showed that she was Val's mother for they both resembled each other as did Rena and her father.
Red swayed as though he were on a pitching deck on a rolling sea. He tried to get the room in focus. His son stood up then and clenched his fists, but kept silent.
"What the hell is this? All of you against me, your own father?"
"We won't have you hitting Mother," Val said. His dark eyes shone like agates struck by light.
"Oh, look at this little shit," gurgled his father. "Well, get out of my goddamned way." At that, he lurched forward, trying to get another swing in at Laura. Rena pulled her mother out of his path and Val put up both of his arms to ward off the blow. His father's fist struck him on one forearm and Val gave way. He blinked back tears.
"You want it, do you?" his father said. "You little pipsqueak!"
"Dad, why don't you go sleep it off?" Val said, trying to get out of his father's way. He had seen such scenes before, but none this violent. His father had been drinking steadily for years and the past year with a heaviness that had frightened all of them. Dissatisfied with his job as a welder in an automotive shop, Red had taken it out on everyone around, his friends first, and then his family. Many nights Val had heard his parents quarreling and his mother weeping after his father had passed out, snoring. On some occasions his father had ripped out the phone, torn up furniture. But now he was striking directly at their mother. Val tried to stand tall and reason with his raging father.
"Don't give me your crap, you little brat," his father said through thick-tongued speech.
"I'm sick of that old bitch criticizing me all the time."
"Go to sleep, Daddy," said Rena.
Red lurched to look at her. "You too. You're all against me. Well, I'm getting the hell out. But first I'm going to teach this little bastard a lesson."
"No, don't hit him," screamed Laura.
But it was too late. Red drove in swinging on his son. Val tried to ward off the blows, but they came at him like sledgehammers. Rena and her mother stood helpless, screaming at the tops of their lungs while Red bored in, battering his son's arms aside. Val vainly strove to protect himself, but his father outweighed him and outfought him. After Red knocked down his arms, he struck him on the face, then knocked him down. Down, the boy tried to avoid the kicking feet of his father.
"I'll fix your ass, you goddamned mama's boy," Red snarled, his rugged boots crashing into Val's flesh. Val screamed as the toe of one hit him full on the scrotum. He writhed in agony on the floor, doubled up in pain.
"My God, Red, what've you done?" Laura shrieked when she saw her son in agony.
"He got what's good for him, you bitch!"
They all heard the honking then. It seemed to come from in front of the house. Red swayed and tried to sort out the sound. His son lay at his feet, groveling in pain. Red gave him another vicious kick at the genitals and turned away. He stumbled to his and Laura's bedroom and began throwing socks, shorts, and shirts into his battered old suitcase. He grabbed his shaving gear from the bathroom. As he came out of the room, the front door opened and a blowzy, over-painted woman came in.
"You comin' or not, Red?"
Laura and Rena came to the kitchen door. They looked across the room at the woman who had come for Red.
"Yeah, I'm comin'. Don't get your ass in an uproar." He spat on the floor and gave his wife the finger. "I'm leavin', bitch. Ain't never comin' back."
The woman at the door looked sheepish but she grabbed Red's arm and led him out. The door slammed behind them and Laura burst into tears. Rena held on to her mother, stunned by what had happened. It was several seconds before both of them realized that Val was still lying on the kitchen floor, moaning in pain. They turned, then, both of them at once, and went to the stricken boy.
"Oh, Val," his mother said, kneeling over him, "did he hurt you bad?"
"Yes. Yes he did. He kicked me in a bad place. Down here."
His mother's eyes flew wide in horror and she began to weep again. "Come on, son," she said. "I'll take care of you. Can you walk?"
"I-I think so."
Rena and her mother helped him to his feet. They led him to the living room and sat him down on the couch.
"There now, just don't move for a few moments. Rena, you better get ready for bed," her mother ordered.
"Mom," said Rena, "does that mean Daddy isn't going to live here anymore?"
"Yes, Rena," her mother sobbed. "It looks that way."
"Good riddance," Val said through clenched teeth.
"Perhaps," said Laura. "He-he used to be a good man. Lately-I-I don't know "
"Now, now, Mom, don't cry," said Rena. "He's not worth it. Did you see that old creep he was with ? "
Laura laughed, on the verge of hysteria.
Rena began to laugh too.
Val moaned.
"Yes, I saw her," said Laura. "That helps take some of the hurt out of it."
"She's not as pretty as you, Mom," said Rena.
"Thank you, dear, now run. Get ready for bed."
Rena hugged her mother and kissed her on the forehead. Laura turned to minister to Val. He lay half doubled up on the couch.
"Where does it hurt?" she asked him.
"All over, but mostly..."
"I know. He kicked you in a terrible place."
"Why, Mom, why?"
"I don't know, Val. Too much drink. He wasn't in his right mind. He's run off with that floozy and I don't know why except that something's been eating at him for a long time. Drinking every day, all day long, at night. I just hope he finds what he's looking for."
"I hate him," Val said grimly.
His mother stroked his forehead soothingly.
"No, honey, you don't hate him. You just hate what he's become." She leaned down and hugged her son, tears starting down her cheeks again.
"He's no good, Mom."
"Let's not talk about him anymore, Val. Get your pajamas on and come to my room. I'll see if I can't take some of the pain away. Do you want to stay with me tonight?" She looked at him searchingly.
"Yeah. I guess so. I hurt all over, Mom."
"I know. Hurry. I'll get the stuff ready." Laura got up then and went to the medicine cabinet. She shook a couple of aspirin out of a bottle and took a jar of Vaseline from the cabinet. She took them to her bedroom, then brought a glass of water from the kitchen. Wearily, she took off her clothes and selected a thin negligee with matching frilly shorts from the closet. She removed her makeup and was combing out her dark hair when Val appeared, dressed for bed.
"Does it still hurt, hon?"
"Yeah. He kicked me solid. I-it's swollen, I think."
"Lie down. I'll say good night to Rena." Laura rose from the dresser and walked down the hall to Rena's room. She went over to her bed and kissed her.
"Good night, hon. Don't think about what happened. Everything's for the best."
"Yeah, I guess so. Good night, Mom."
"Good night."
Laura went back to her bedroom. Val was lying on her bed, in his pajamas. Her heart went out to him. He was so much like her, she thought. So unlike his father. She couldn't bear to see him suffering. She handed him the aspirin from "the bedside table and a glass of water.
"Here, drink this first." Obediently, Val swallowed the pills and the water. "Pull down your pajamas and let me take a look," she said.
Shyly, Val pulled his pajama bottoms down to his knees. His mother gasped. His scrotum was swollen three times its normal size. Already, on the insides of his calves, large red welts were visible and darkening. Tenderly, his mother spread his legs. She reached for the Vaseline and withdrew some tissue papers from ;the cardboard box. She blinked back tears. She dipped her finger into the petroleum jar and withdrew a chunk of the clear jelly. Carefully, she encased his sac in the thick grease as Val winced with pain.
"I'm sorry, son. I know it hurts, but this will be good for it. Try to relax." She lifted his scrotum gingerly and gently rubbed the underside with Vaseline. It had been a time since she had seen her son's private parts. She was surprised at how they had developed. Despite the swollen bag, his penis was almost as large as his father's. A twinge shrank her loins momentarily as she thought of this. Memory made her mind wander and before she noticed what she was doing, she had massaged his limp penis into a semi-erection, coating it unnecessarily with a thin coat of Vaseline.
"Does that hurt?" she asked.
"No," Val said, in a husky, muffled voice from far off. He didn't want to tell her that it felt good, better than anything he had ever felt. His mother's slender assuaging hands on his penis were like angel's hands, soft, airy and exquisitely exciting in a strange forbidding way. A lazy warmth spread through his body, centered at his crotch where light curly pubic hair had begun to grow thickly around his scrotum and penis root. He didn't want her to stop, yet he was slightly embarrassed.
"You're quite a man, Val," his mother said. "You're growing up fast." Her voice had that same strange distant quality that marked his own when he had tried to speak a moment before. She wiped her hands with the tissues and closed the lid on the Vaseline jar. Val's stiffness in his organ began to subside. He made no move to pull his pajamas back up.
"Just stay that way for a while. Let the Vaseline soak in," his mother said. "Shall I turn out the light?" He nodded dumbly, his mind racing with thoughts that he had never allowed before.
Laura turned out the light and crawled into bed beside her son. A street lamp bathed the room in a soft glow, outlining their twin figures. Her own aches were forgotten as she lay beside him. Her mouth was sore where Red had struck her, but the skin was only broken slightly and the bleeding had stopped. Her concern was for her son and she hoped that his father's cruel and vicious beating hadn't harmed him permanently. A wave of compassion spread over her at the thought that his budding manhood might be affected by such an unreasoning, meaningless drubbing. At that moment, her hatred for her husband assumed towering proportions while her love for her son kindled then drew into a steady constant flame like a cutting torch valved down to a thin steady burning. "Feel any better?" she asked in the semi-darkness.
"A-a little," he said.
"Try to sleep. I'll rub it in a little more."
Val sighed deeply. That was what he wanted, but was afraid to ask. He wanted his mother's hand back down there again. He wanted her hand on his privates, fondling them, giving him that warm and contented feeling he had had a few moments before.
Her hand reached out then and touched his leg. The hackles rose from the contact. Gradually, her hand moved over to his crotch and found his scrotum. She cradled the swollen sac in her hand and rubbed the petroleum deeper into the pliant folds of the skin, gently rubbing, rubbing. Despite herself, her hand moved impulsively up to the root of his penis, rubbing, rubbing, until the beginnings of tumescence warned her of what she was doing.
Val kept silent, his thoughts racing. He knew what was happening and he didn't want it to stop. His body cried out for his mother to take the whole of his cock into her hand and squeeze it, pull on it, bring it to fullness. He wanted to grab her hand and place it around his cock and move it up and down until the cum spurted forth as it had when he masturbated, alone in bed or sitting on a stool in the bathroom.
But her hand moved only slightly up from the root, kneading the bottom part of his penis only. Val's heart thumped loudly in his chest until he was certain she must be able to hear it. But she was silent, kneading, kneading, as though she Were asleep and didn't know what she was doing. His tumescence grew and he wanted to shout at her to do something for him, to give him the full pleasure of her hand. But he didn't dare. He was afraid of what was happening, and slightly ashamed. And yet he didn't want it to stop-ever.
Laura held her breathing in, afraid it would betray her. Her emotions had risen up in her body like a sudden summer wind, strangling her. Desire flushed her body with a sodden warmth. In her own loins she could feel the twinge of sexual want as she carefully and slowly massaged that lower part of his stalk which was swelling in her hand so manfully, so desirably. But this was her son. Her son! She wanted to stop, but she couldn't. She was carried away by newfound emotions that she couldn't explain. She was swept up in a tide of forbidden desire that wouldn't let her stop this seemingly innocent, yet dangerous kneading.
In a sudden inexplicable impulse, Laura's hand moved up the stalk and grasped her son's cock fully. It was as though she couldn't stand to know it was there, nearly fully erected. She had to feel it-to know. She grabbed its full-neses in her hand and squeezed for just a fleeting second. Its veins throbbed in her palm, its throbbing flesh filled her hand, for just that instant. Then, as suddenly as she had grasped it, she turned it loose as though her hand had been burned, as though to hold it a second longer would cause stigmata to appear in her palm!
Val almost swooned with the ecstasy of it! His head dizzied with the giddiness of it and he could feel the blood rush to his swollen member, bringing it to a full erection. Oh, if only she would hold it forever! But her hand was there for only a brief flood of seconds and was as suddenly gone. He wanted her to take it and caress it, to feel its fullness for as long as she wished. His loins ached for her to complete him, to bring him to climax. But he knew, with a bright stab of intuition, that this wasn't to be. Her hand was gone and was now patting him on the thigh.
"Go to sleep, Val," she whispered in the far-away dark.
Quietly, he pulled his pajamas back up, covering his shame. He felt empty as his erection died, shrunk back to its weakened former self. He wanted to weep, but with the release of her hand the pain in his scrotum returned, dully now, a reminder of the terrible kicks from his father. He was suffused with an overwhelming love and affection for his mother, changed now, from what it had been before into something unfathomable, unknown, but growing in his mind like something grand, though shapeless, yet, growing even as his body finally relaxed and his eyelids grew heavy with the combination of fatigue and letdown.
Laura listened for her son's heavy breathing, still holding her own back for fear she would let him know how her heart was racing. She had felt it! Actually held his young manhood in her hand for a moment! Her heart fluttered in her breast with an intense tachycardia. Excitement trembled the empty hand that had held him for that brief moment. It had felt so good, so right. He was a man, physically. A better man, perhaps, than his father. But to allow him to be a man with her, what was that? That couldn't be. Could it? Laura heaved a big sigh and turned to look at her son.
He was sleeping. Next to her. In her bed. If she could but keep him there always! If something happened, then perhaps it was supposed to be, meant to be. But he was her son! Her heart rose up in her throat and threatened to burst through the flesh and the veins. If only she could quell the excitement that had built up inside her. She allowed her hand to reach between her legs and touch her nest. Dampness met her touch, the dampness that had seeped through her lips and onto the curled thick hairs of her vagina. Shameful! But she so wanted relief! What was she to do? She had no husband anymore. He had left her for another woman. She had only ... only, what? Val? Yes, Val. She had only her son. It was agony not to touch him, not to bring that fine young cock of his to life again and put it between her legs, let it enter her and find all the secret places where love waited in a hundred nooks. Oh, if she only dared! If only she had the bright strong courage to take him while she had him, to initiate him into the world of love as she wished it to be! If only ... if only...
She did not go to sleep for a long time, but lay thinking, her body dully dying off from its rude desires of moments before. Val had turned in the bed and was lying on his side. His fly was open and his limp organ had tumbled out innocently, but beckoning to her like a morning flower that needed only a kiss to bring it to bloom, a touch of dew and a sprinkle of sunshine to awaken it to full blossom. Carefully, she reached over and took the head of his penis between her fingers. Gently, she stroked the smooth head where it peeked out from the circumcised foreskin and lay circling it like a monk's hood a half inch below.
She moved down the bed where she could face it as she played. Val's heavy breathing reassured her. She took the tiny inert length of it in her hand then and an exquisite thrill shot from her trembling stomach clear to the hard tuber of clitoris in the channel of her cunt. She weighed it in her hand, then squeezed it, feeling it mash down then resiliently spring back a bit harder than it was before.
His sleeping made it easier for her to do what she was doing. He could not know what thoughts she had in her mind! She moved her face closer to the bud that was his cock's head and she put her lips on it, no more than a feather's light brush. She pulled on the rubbery skin bringing the head to her lips. She opened her mouth slightly and took the head in her mouth. She laved it with her tongue, swabbing it with saliva, soaking it with the spittle that had sprung up in her mouth of a sudden.
His cock grew hard and frightened her. What if he woke up! He might, now. But it looked so beautiful and so manly, so big. She allowed herself to stroke it as she had Red's so long ago when they still loved each other. Oh, it had been so long! She hadn't realized it. But sex had become a matter of release for her and a quick drunken fuck to her husband. That's not how it used to be. But she was just an object to him, had been for years. But here was Val, young and unspoiled, not knowing of the ways of the world.
Afraid, she allowed herself one more kiss and a final stroke before she pushed his stiff organ back in his pajamas, tucking it back so it wouldn't fall out. But how she wanted it. How she wanted it inside her, pumping until the juices sprang forth and filled her womb! She clenched her fists and turned her back on her son. Then, a moment later, she reached down and pulled the covers over them both.
It was unbearable, but she faced him under the covers and drew her body close to his. She put her arms around him, over his shoulder and pushed her cunt close to his own loins. She rubbed against his hardness and felt, after a while, the gush of oils inside her as the spasm of orgasm shook her body. But so unfulfilled, so unrequited! Her breasts ached for his touch, her womb cried out for him to fill her. Sobs shook her body, then, and in the dark, she was alone, terribly alone with her own secret filling her mind like a dark stranger.
But, blessedly, Laura fell asleep finally, her eyes tight shut with the weight of the salt from her drying tears.