Chapter 2
Randi silently cursed himself for forgetting to cut the ignition off before he'd gotten to the driveway. Then with a shrug, he wheeled his big machine into the garage and walked nonchalantly into the house. What the hell, he reasoned, the old lady's probably up anyway . . ... and hopping mad to boot. So what?
He'd had a good time, hadn't he? Besides, he was a fuckin' man now, for sure!
"Is that you, Randi?" a voice snapped from behind the bathroom door.
"Yeah."
"Where in the hell have you been? Do you know what time it is."
"Out. Yes."
"What?"
"I said I smell stew. Is there any left?"
Marion straightened sharply as she finished toweling off one satiny leg. So that little smart alec thinks this is some kind of joke, does he? she fumed. Well, we'll just have to see about that! "We're going to have a long talk about this when I get out of the bathroom, young man!" she threatened.
Randi shrugged, then opened the door to the refrigerator and peered inside. Fuck stew, he'd just chug-a-lug a glass of moo-juice and hit the sack. He was tired. He was a man, and he was tired. He didn't want to listen to no bullshit at eleven-thirty in the night.
"Did you hear me, young man?"
Randi took a healthy swig of milk directly from the carton and left it sitting open on the counter while he stripped out of his jacket and draped it over the back of a kitchen chair.
"Randi!"
"I heard you."
"Well?"
"I'm going to bed."
Marion finished toweling quickly, then slipped into her flimsy terry cloth robe. Damn that kid! she raged. Just who the hell does he think he is! "Okay, you little-" she started, flinging the door open. He was gone. That little s.o.b. had taken off for his room!
Marion flew quickly down the hall to the door to Randi's room and tried it. It was locked. "You'd better let me in there, right this minute!" she pounded.
Silence.
"Randi! Let me-"
Suddenly the door flew open. He was standing there in just his Levi's, an angry look etched across his rugged young face, his hairy young chest heaving mightily. "Don't give me no shit, woman!" he snapped. "I'm not in any mood for bullshit!"
Marion took a stumbling half-step backwards, her mouth hanging slack in shock and rage. My God, is this my son ... my own baby, talking to me this way? She was hurt, and stunned. And angry. Her hand shot up to slap his face, but he caught her slender wrist and held it easily with one powerful hand. "Don't," he advised calmly.
Tears of rage and frustration brimmed the red-haired mother's eyes. "Randi ... please let me go."
The young man released his mother's hand, then stepped back into his room and shut the door. Marion, shattered by the terrifying experience, crumpled to the floor and began to sob brokenly into her trembling hands. "What am I going to do? Dear God, what am I going to do?"
Rising to her feet, Marion heaved a deep sigh and meandered down the hall in the direction of her own bedroom. God, she felt tired.
Marion wasn't certain whether it was the brightness of the early-afternoon sun, or the ringing of the front doorbell that had awakened her from her fitful sleep. Either way, she was relieved, since she had just started to have that dream again. She had gotten quite a bit of sleep, though, and that was the important thing. She managed to get to her feet and slip into her slippers just as the bell was sounding for the third time. It had to be her neighbor, Stephanie Morgan; she'd know her impatient ring anywhere.
"Oh, hi, sugar! Did you just get up? You certainly look a lot better. Did Randi get in yesterday? I thought I heard his bike late last night."
Oh, my God, Marion grimaced inside. Our busy neighborhood gossip was keeping tabs on us last night. Damn it! "Come in, Stephanie," she yawned, "I was just getting ready to fix some lunch."
"Oh, I can't stay, sweetie. I promised Lucy Shipman I'd take her shopping this afternoon. You know Darren and Lucy, don't you? They just moved out here from Colorado, and Lucy doesn't have her Washington driver's license yet."
Marion yawned again. "Oh?"
"Anyway, sweetie, that damned plumber still hasn't gotten here, so I thought maybe I could get you to keep an eye peeled for him.".
"Yeah, sure, Stephanie."
Stephanie turned to leave. "Thanks, honey. It's the downstairs bathroom. I left the back door unlocked. Bye."
"Good-bye, Stephanie," you silly bitch!
Marion shut the door and wandered into the kitchen, muttering an obscenity at the carton of milk left standing on the counter to go bad. What damn day is this, anyway? she wondered confusedly, looking at the little chef wall clock as if it could supply the answer for her. Then, idly, she reached up and brought down a can of tuna from the top shelf of the cupboard. If it's Saturday, then it must be tuna, she mused. Then, on second thought, she reached up and brought down an extra can. Better play it safe; that kid's been eating like a dock worker lately. She meandered over to the electric can opener and began to cut the lids off. Oh, shit, I guess I'd better go wake Randi up for lunch, she yawned.
Randi stirred restlessly in his bed. First it was the God damn sun beating through his open window, then the doorbell, then Stephanie Morgan's sugary squeal, and now it sounded like somebody was running a drill press in the kitchen. Christ, it was enough to wake the dead!
And then, as if that weren't enough, he had an erection hard enough to scratch glass. Quickly, he rolled over and attempted to drown out the offending noise and light by covering his head with his pillow. But, in so doing, he only made himself more aware of the erection by rubbing it against the smooth muslin sheets. Somehow, the damned thing had worked itself out of the fly of his undershorts while he was sleeping. Was that why he'd been having that stupid fucking dream? he wondered. It was strange. He had started out dreaming about Anita Ramirez about how good it had felt to fuck her and then she started to blur, but he was still fucking. And then ... then she started to take form again ... Only ... Only it wasn't Anita he was fucking anymore. He shuddered at the thought. No, this girl had enormous white breasts, and coppery red hair, and a handspan waist, and ... and she was his mother!
Still, he had to admit that in some bizarre way, the dream had been beautiful. He had been taking her dog-style, the same way he had taken Anita the night before, and when her blurred image had become recognizable, she had turned her head back to smile at him with her perfect teeth flashing lewdly, her lips forming a silent, "Fuck me, son!" Jesus Christ!
He rolled back over onto his back and kicked the covers off. He stared at the ceiling for a long time with his long hard penis poling lewdly upward before, finally, his hand found it and began to stroke it gently up and down as he recalled his pleasant dream. Christ! I must be some kind of pervert, thinking about Mom that way! he anguished. Still, he couldn't shake the bizarre images from his impressionable young mind. He could remember how she looked when she had come to his room before to give him hell about staying out all night. Damn! Her tits looked like they were going to pop right out of that fucking bathrobe! His hand stroked his turgid flesh a little faster.
Marion looked down at her handiwork and smiled. If eight sandwiches weren't enough for the two of them, then somebody would just have to go on a diet! Licking a stray flick of mayonnaise from the back of one finger, she crossed to the fridge, opened it, and studied its contents for a long moment before deciding that yesterday's lemonade would go quite nicely with today's tuna fish sandwiches. Quickly, she filled two tall glasses, then opened a bag of potato chips and emptied them into a large bowl in the center of the kitchen table. "There!" she said proudly. "That ought to do it!"
She rinsed her hands off at the sink, then left the kitchen in the direction of Randi's room. She'd learned long ago not to bother shouting; Randi invariably ignored all but direct confrontation at mealtime. When he ate, he ate like a horse ... when he was ready.
She walked slowly since she was still feeling a little lightheaded from her trying previous night. In her soft-soled slippers, she made not a sound, as she padded down the hall towards her son's room.
Wickedly exciting visions of his mother's perfect white breasts pressed lewdly around his swollen cock, like Anita's had been around Chuck's, danced deliciously through Randi's head as he continued to stroke himself to granite hardness. Jesus, I'd like to screw Mom! his young mind churned excitedly. I wonder if she let guys fuck her when she was my age?
He shut his eyes tightly and envisioned his mother, white and naked, coming to him in the darkness some beautiful imaginary night. No, she isn't naked either ... not completely. She's wearing ultra-high heels and sheer nylons ... and dangling rhinestone earrings, like ... like a cheap whore! He spat in his hand, then anointed the head of his cock with the saliva; mingling it with the leaking pre-coital fluids that dripped from the coralline head to form a crude and sticky imitation of the pussy juices that had bathed his cock last night when he'd fucked Joe Danielson's girlfriend. I bet she's never had anything like THIS before! he thought proudly, elevating his buttocks so that his cock poled out even farther from his muscular teenage loins.
Marion paused just outside of her son's bedroom door, her hand raised to knock, her ear cocked to identify the strange sound coming from within that had held her hand in the first place. There it was again! A moan! Was he sick? Maybe ... Maybe he was having one of those wet dreams she'd read about teenage boys having in their sleep! She turned to leave, her face flushing at the awful thought, then stopped. What if he really IS sick? she worried, raising her hand again to knock. Again, something stayed her hand. Furtively, almost embarrassedly, she dropped down to her knees and peered through the keyhole. She'd decided it would be better that way, to avoid causing either one of them unnecessary embarrassment.
The large room was so bright with sunlight that it took several seconds for the young mother to identify her son's naked form lying on his bed. Well, she thought, studying his handsome young face, lie doesn't LOOK sick ... Why, he's even smiling! She started to get to her feet, but something else caught her eye. A movement lower on the bed. Quickly, she adjusted her position so she could focus on her new center of interest. "Oh, my Go-" she started to gasp out loud, her hand flying to her mouth in shock to stifle the sound before it had left her lips. Randi was ... he was playing with himself! And his thing ... his penis ... it was HUGE!
Oblivious of his unsolicited "audience," Randi continued his fanciful masturbation without the slightest fear of discovery. He felt his thick and hairy scrotum churn with its heavy load of semen as his young brain concocted scheme after imaginary scheme for the seduction of his mother. Maybe, he thought, he could encourage her to have an affair with another man, and then threaten to leave her to live with Dad blackmail her.' Or, perhaps even more fancifully, he could wear a mask and break into the house some night and rape her! It was mean and thoroughly evil to be thinking of his mother in such terms, and he knew it. It was also very exciting! Jesus, he could just see her dancing on the end of his huge organ ... like a beautiful butterfly impaled on a giant pin. God, he might even make her suck him off!
Marion Peters sat frozen to the floor on her hands and knees, unable to speak, unable to move. Her green eyes were nearly bulging out of their sockets, riveted to the enormity of her son's erect cock. It was the very cock of which she had been dreaming all these past years. It was Creighton Holt's cock ... an exact replica ... from the bloated mushroom head at its tip to the vein-webbed purple hardness of the nine inch shaft below. It was identical, but for one exciting difference ... it was attached not to a paunchy middle-aged man, but to a powerful muscular young man ... a young man who just happened to be her own son! Still, she could not move. She was fully cognizant of the fact that it was her own son's penis that was sending shudders of unwanted excitement up and down her spine, but she couldn't move. She couldn't.
She watched his gripping fist manipulating the loose outer skin of his turgid maleness, capping and uncapping the unseeing eye in its head. And that eye was leaking, dripping a thin silverish strand of pre-coital sap that sheened and glistened the satiny bloated head from which it came as he smeared it around with the palm of his hand on the upstroke. My God! her mind recoiled. I-I can't stay here and watch this ... He-He's my SON ... MY OWN SWEET BABY! ... But he is sooo big and shiny and very, very stiff!
Marion became aware of yet another sensation a tingling erotically stimulating sensation rising from the pit of her stomach to compete with the horrifying reality of her weakness. Her loins began to throb in response to the newer sensation, in part from the obscene spectacle taking place on her son's bed, in part from the unfinished self-manipulation she had been performing when Randi had gotten home the night before. Dear God. she raged silently, what's getting into me? Why am I forever thinking of nothing but sex lately ?
Randi's hand moved swiftly up and down on his thick cock. At the rate he was going, he knew it wouldn't take long to bring himself to a climax. He felt his heavy young balls twisting and bouncing against his hairy legs, adding to the wonderful imaginary fucking of his young mother, and smiled still more lewdly in his reverie. He was a man now, just ask Anita, and the man wanted to fuck the man's mother. Visions of Marion's wealth of auburn hair cascading over his muscular thighs as she knelt before him sucking his cock fused in his already hot brain. He could visualize her massive succulent breasts, too, bouncing and heaving against his prickly balls. Giant German and Scotch-Irish breasts, like mothers used to have in the old days...,before Twiggy and women's lib decided that the figures of ten year old boys were just too-too.
Marion's eyes remained glued to her son's giant penis. Perhaps, she thought, it's even bigger than Creighton Holt's. Her hands crept up to her heavy dangling breasts as she continued to kneel there before Randi's door. Idly, almost absent-mindedly, she tweaked her stiffening nipples between her thumbs and forefingers, carelessly scratching the tender flesh of her nipples with her long nails. Son or no son, he was a man ... a big handsome man ... with a thrillingly huge cock that held her transfixed like some swaying wicked cobra. Her hands left her breasts then, letting the turgid spiking nipples brush delicately against the rough terry cloth nap of her wash-thinned robe. Her hands found her thighs, her inner thighs, and began to pinch and rub there as they had in the tub. Only this time ... this time she pinched for pleasure, not punishment. And, again, a slender middle finger no, .two fingers found the tender outer lips of her pussy and began to part them, flicking maddeningly against the distended nub of her hot clitoris that had slipped wetly forward from the moist protection of its sheath like the miniature cock of a dog. She shivered to the tips of her pink-lacquered toenails, biting her sensuously pouting lower lip to keep from crying out in her obscene desire. Then, almost of its own volition, a single finger, followed rapidly by the second, entered her seething vaginal passage to the palm of her trembling hand. Oh God! she quivered in, silent desire. It feels so good ... if only they were longer and thicker! Her eyes, never leaving the lust-inflaming spectacle of her son's masturbation, went glassy in her excitement. If the young man masturbating in that bedroom had been anyone but her own flesh and blood at that moment, she would undoubtedly have barged into the room and dropped to her knees, begging him to fuck her senseless.
Randi's pumping fist stopped entirely for a long and precious minute as he tried, in vain, to hold back the inevitability of his impending release. It was too late! He could feel his heavy testicles churn for the last delicious time, and knew that there could be no more delay. Quickly, he resumed his pumping, feeling instantly the hot flush of his youthful sperm as it raced the length of his urethral tube to spurt in a lewd high arc. like a fountain of lust it spewed, squirt after seemingly endless squirt, to pool where u splashed on falling, in the tufts of hair on his massive chest and passion-taut abdomen.
The young man's mother's fingers were churning rapidly now, as she watched the thrilling sight of her son's orgasm jetting out of his rigid teenage cock. For one thrilling instant, she almost wished that the massive organ were spewing its load of pungent seed deep within the recesses of her own womb ... the very womb from which the boy had come! It was exciting, God, was it ever! Then, almost before she had time to even register the changes coming over her own passionately-kneeling body, the young mother felt the respondent tingle deep within her loins. Oh, God! she screamed in frustrating snence. I-I m camming too.
So quickly had her climax overtaken her, that the beautiful redheaded mother was again forced to bite her lip to keep from screaming out her pleasure. She tasted the salty trickle of blood her teeth had brought to her mouth, and shuddered, deeply, as the strongest part of her orgasm rocked her back on her heels like a stunned bull in a slaughterhouse. It was too much ... devastatingly too much ... and she thought she would surely swoon from the bone-shaking pleasure of it. From the silken strands of her rusty hair to the soles of her pretty feet, she felt it ... A deep, infinitely satisfying release that had had no match since her first experience with Creighton Holt so many years before. Then, as she knelt there in the shimmering afterglow of her release, her ears began to ring. Loudly. Almost as if the ringing were coming from the direction of the front door. Oh, God! she remembered suddenly, staggering to her feet. I'd forgotten all about Stephanie's plumber!