Chapter 1
Margaret Lansdale looked at her young son Bill and could hardly believe her ears.
"Bill," she said nervously, "I don't know what to think of you. You know that you have absolutely no right to be playing around sexually with a girl when you're not married."
"Mom," Bill exclaimed, "all the kids today are fucking:"
She was furious, when she heard him use this word in her presence.
"Look," she said angrily, "don't you ever use that word in my presence again."
"There's nothing wrong with fucking, Mom," he tried to tell her.
"It's lovemaking," she said nervously. "That's what it's referred to."
"Well Dad never talks about it to me," he said, "how in hell am I supposed to know the word you expect me to use around the house?"
"Well I'll tell you," she said quietly, "there are words that are fitting and there are words that are not, and I don't ever want to hear you use that four letter word f - - - you know what in this place."
"I'm sorry," he said nervously, "but I suppose I'm just a hellcat."
"You're not a hellcat because you have sexual feelings," Margaret tried to explain to her son, "but there is a right and wrong way to express that feeling, and it's wrong, dear, for you to desire to express these feelings with these horrid young girls who are getting pregnant at the high school."
"There's one girl," he told her, "who gives out."
"And I know who she is too," she said quickly.
"She's Cindy, isn't she?" she stammered. "I saw the two of you together."
"I never put my thing in there," Bill said quickly.
"Well, you'd better not," she said, "but you had your hands on her."
"I can't help it, Mom," he said, "I'm only human."
"You're too human," Margaret Lansdale complained. "Your father has been like that too. He has been a philanderer."
"What's that?" he asked.
"That is a man who plays around with women."
"Does Dad do that?" Bill asked eagerly. "That explains why he never talks about sex with me. He didn't want to tell me what he was doing."
"That's probably true," she said, "Your father is a very weak man."
It didn't make Bill happy to have his mother say these things about his father whom he secretly admired.
"Let's knock it off," he told her, "you do what you want to do and I'll do what I want to do."
"You will do as I say," she said emphatically.
That was all that she had to say to her son about sex that afternoon. But that long evening when she was alone waiting for her husband to come home when the bars closed, she heard her son rustling around in his room. She wondered if he had tried to sneak Cindy in.
She slipped into her negligee and tiptoed down the hall. As she opened the door she got the shock of her life. There was young Bill with a centerfold open in a magazine. A naked woman was sprawled across the centerfold and Bill's hand was on his penis. He was pumping vigorously.
"How dare you!" she gasped in rage and indignation as she caught her son masturbating.
Bill dropped his hand.
"What are you doing here?", he said, as hot spasms went through his body as his own mother looked at his nudity.
"You know that that is not right," she said, "no man ever plays with himself. What do you want to grow up to be?"
"You're awful," he complained. "You won't give me any privacy."
"Not with this kind of activity," she said self-righteously. "And if I ever catch you doing it again, I'll tear up those magazines."
Bill clutched the magazine to himself, and then she walked over to him. She tried to regain her composure as she realized some of the rage she was actually taking out on him was actually rage that should have been directed toward her husband. For a long time she had been outraged at her husband's activities, and she realized it wasn't fair to take it out on him.
As she sat on the edge of the bed and looked at her naked son with his penis still erect, she wondered what to do.
"I guess it's not all your fault," she said misty eyed. "If that father of yours had any decency, he would tell you what a young boy does when he has this sex thing hit him."
"What do you think I should do?" he demanded.
"Sports are a wonderful thing, dear," she said. "Swimming is a marvelous sport. Track is great too. I don't want you getting into football, or you'll come home a bundle of broken bones."
"Well I can't exactly sprint now, can I?" he said, "and I'm not going to go swimming."
"A cold shower would help," she said.
"Would it?" he asked eagerly.
As he spoke to his mother, he found himself being strongly attracted toward her well formed bosoms. He glanced down at her crotch and got turned on there too. Now he was nervous and didn't know what to do.
"I'll turn the shower on for you," she said, getting to her feet and walking across the bedroom in her filmy negligee.
As he got a good look at her wiggling ass, he got still more turned on.
"Mom," he said as he walked toward the shower, "would you wash me off?"
"Why Billy," she laughed, "I haven't washed you off since you were a little baby."
"You used to wash me off when I was six, seven years old," he reminded her.
"Well I guess I could soap you down, dear," she admitted.
All at once Margaret found herself fascinated by her son's body. As he stood there naked in the shower with his gigantic cock standing up in front of him, she found him appealing. He reminded her instantly of her husband. Vividly she could recall when her husband was somewhere near her son's age. She married him when he was twenty, and now her son was just turning eighteen.
"Wash my balls, Mom," he smiled.
"Well I didn't intend to wash your intimate areas," she explained.
"But that's where I want you to wash, Mom," he smiled.
She reached down under his balls and cupped them in one hand while she brought the soap down with the other. He loved the sensations as she ran the soap over his testicles.
"And now my cock," he said.
"You mean your penis, don't you, dear?" she asked in motherly correction.
"Alright," he said, "wash my penis."
She let the bar of soap slide along the length of his penis. He loved the sensations, as she did this, and she loved it too. Soon she was finding herself getting wet.
"You're all wet," he said. "Get in the shower too."
"Oh I couldn't do that, dear," she said. "It wouldn't be good for you to see me naked."
"Are you afraid to show me yourself?" he asked her.
"You know I'm not," she said. "That's ridiculous. We would never have any sexual attraction for each other, but it just would be improper."
The wetter she became, the tighter the sticky negligee clung to her body. Finally she decided it might indeed be a very good thing to remove it. She slid out of it slowly, and then naked stepped into the shower with her son Bill.
Bill looked at her great breasts and asked eagerly, "Could I wash them off?"
"What?" Margaret asked, having been so distracted by him rubbing the penis she hadn't observed him looking at her bosoms.
"Those beautiful bosoms, Mom," he said.
When her son said beautiful, something clicked within her. It was as if her son's words electrified her sexually. She felt hot, aglow and ready for sex.
"I guess it wouldn't hurt if you want to," she said huskily.
Reaching for the bar of soap he began washing her bosoms off. She loved the sensation as his hands moved up and down and round her great breasts. Then, she went on stroking him.
"Pull it for me," he smiled at her. "That feels fantastic."
She was developing a rhythm with her hands, and it pleased and excited him.
"I told you that you shouldn't do that," she reminded him. "So I mustn't."
"Oh there are so many things I want to do to you," he told "her. "You're so beautiful, Mom, I could eat you."
"It would be your mother's shame if you did," she said.
"Please let me eat you," he said.
"Honey," she said. "Let's get out of the shower, I'll dry you off."
Margaret was feeling two emotions now. Guilt, mingling with desire. It was a see-saw battle between guilt and desire, and desire was winning out.
"Oh Mom," he said, "What I could do with those luscious bosoms of yours."
"Don't be silly, dear," she said, "a son never is supposed to be attracted to his Mom's own body."
"That depends upon the Mom," he flashed her a knowing grin.
"All of your compliments aren't going to get you a thing," she assured him.
"Not even a little blow job?" he demanded with a sly smile.
"What are you talking about?" she demanded. "Blow job, what's that?"
He laughed at her as he stood there with his penis still erect and hard.
"A blow job, Mom," he explained, "is when a guy gets a chick to go down on him."
"Explain yourself, dear," she said. "You young people these days are forever speaking in riddles."
"I'm not speaking in riddles," he smiled, "I'm telling it like it is. I want you to wrap your hot mouth around my cock. Now do you know?"
She looked at him in amazement.
"Why Bill," Margaret said in shock and disgust, "how could you ever suggest such a thing?"
Now Bill knew it was his job to entice his mother down on him. He grasped his penis in his hand and squeezed. Some juice surfaced at the head of his cock.
"Now Mom," he smiled, "you know you want it as bad as I do."
"I do not," she assured him. "I wouldn't think of doing anything with you."
As he dropped to his feet, he brought his mouth even with her vagina. As his hot tongue flashed away at her slit, she found herself giving in.
"It's so beautiful I couldn't help it," he explained.
Now she was silent. Silenced by the dropping beat of her own heart. Silenced by the burning desires of lust that flamed through her body.
"Oh Bill," she said, "don't do this to me."
"I've got to Mom," he said, his voice tremoring, "I've got to eat you."
Her son's tongue stabbed inside her vagina. Now she was .turned on, ignited, delighted, "Oh wow!" he panted, "what a beautiful pussy you've got."
She still couldn't speak. She felt guilty but not to the point where she could tell him to stop, for she was enjoying herself too much.
"Oh Bill," she finally blurted, "we've done the unforgiveable sin."
"What's that?" he said, pulling his tongue from her pussy a moment.
"That is incest," she explained.
"Now who is talking in riddles?" he demanded. "I don't know what you mean by incest."
"Incest, dear, is when a parent finds a child of his own sexually appealing. Then I'll confess, Bill, I wanted you for myself. The reason I was so upset over you making love to Cindy was that I wanted you to make love to me."
"Oh Mom," he whimpered, "what are we going to do about us?"
"Why, Bill," she said. "Why are you so upset?"
"Because I've wanted to fuck you for a long time," he admitted.
"Don't use that word," she complained.
"Alright," he said quietly, "I wanted to make love to you. Put it your way. But it adds up to the same thing, Mom."
"I'm ashamed of both of us," she said. "It's terrible. There's something wrong with us."
"Maybe we were wired wrong at the factory, Mom," he suggested.
"I wonder that sometimes myself," she told him, "because ever since you were of age I was interested in your body."
"You mean that first erection?" he asked, as his mind flashed back to the time she caught him with a hard-on for the first time.
"Yes dear," she said, "It hit me like a ton of bricks. I knew I had to have you."
"But you didn't touch me," he said.
"It was all I could do to hold back," she said, "your father sickens me. He has gone around with every tramp in town. No wonder I can have no respect for him. No wonder my life has been covered in shame, guilt and remorse."
"Oh Mom," he cried, "let's go into the bedroom and do what we have to do,"
A couple of tears rolled down his cheek at the realization that both of them were yearning for the identical carnal desires.
"What else can we do?" she said, as if caught in the web of circumstances and felt herself unable to fight it any longer.
Her son's lust ignited her own. She went into the bedroom and pulled back the spread. Then as she pulled back the coverlet she looked at him and said, "What if your father comes in?"
"Oh you know Dad is always drunk," he said, "he won't come in until the bars close."
"That's the truth," she said, "but I was just trying to think of an excuse not to go through with our affair."
"An affair?" he smiled. "Is that what you call it?"
"Why are you laughing?" she demanded.
"Because," he said, "nobody calls it an affair anymore. They call it you-know-what."
"I know what," she reminded her son. "I don't want you talking that way anymore."
The more that he talked, the more excited she became.
"I sure know how to eat pussy," he enthused. "And you're going to like the way I eat yours."
"I'm sure that you're good at it, dear," she said. "Your father was very good at it. As a matter of fact, he was almost too good.
"What do you mean, Mom?" he asked.
"Simply this," she said, "when a man gets too good at sex, he gets tempted."
"You mean he wants to do it all the time?" he asked.
"Right on," she told him, "and that's what makes it so bad."
"I feel guilty," he said. "I really do."
There was something about it, she was feeling guilty, and with good reason, for she knew that she was doing the wrong thing. Yet, as she stretched out on the bed and spread her legs for him, she didn't feel guilty at all. Rather, she felt eager for action. She lay there and he got down between her legs.
"Throw your legs around my neck, Mom," he begged her.
She threw her legs around his neck, just as he requested. Then, he buried his face in her mound and went to work.
"Gome on," he told her, "let's have some fun."
She realized that he wanted it now, and she pressed her pelvis forward. Then he went to work.
"Oh, eat it," she panted, "eat my pussy."
He was surprised that she knew these words, so surprised in fact that he withdrew his tongue for a moment.
"I didn't know you knew those words, Mom," he said.
"Your Mom knows a lot of words she shouldn't know," she told him. "When we were first married your Dad used to eat me."
"But the old man doesn't eat your pussy any- more?" he asked.
"Unfortunately not," she said, "he has these other lovers to take care of."
"That's too bad," he said, "it really is."
Now he gripped her asscheeks in his hands once more and let his hot tongue glide away at her slit. Stabbing it in there, he suddenly flicked it across her vagina walls. Reaching down, she guided her son's head over her vagina.
"Eat Mamma's pussy," she begged, "eat it. That's what I want, eat Mamma's pussy."
He was delighted to give her what she wanted, and he was glad to get it too. Faster and faster his hot tongue stabbed away inside her. She knew it wouldn't take long at this clip.
"Oh," he exclaimed, "I love this. Yes, yes, do it!"
Furiously he went into her, and equally furiously, she reached out to grab his head and hold him there.
"Yes, yes, baby," she said. "Do it just like that. Now you're doing it. Oh, I love that. Just like that."
He didn't stop for a moment. And Be was bringing her closer and closer to climax with his licking, lapping tongue movements.
"Eat my pussy," she begged, "eat it. Oh, ah, yes, yes, eat my pussy."
She knew she would be juicing any moment, and she could hardly wait for that moment to arrive.
"Oh, baby," she gasped, "eat it, eat my pussy."
The sudden action was achieving wonderful results. Her body was trembling and shaking now.
"Finish it," she begged, "finish it, baby, oh yes, finish me."
Suddenly the hot white spray surfaced and juiced in his mouth. As it gushed, his mouth pressed tighter to receive it.
"Oh yes, baby, yes," she gasped excitedly, "eat that up. Ah, oh, yes, baby, yes!"
When Bill finally moved his mouth off his mother's mound, she looked like a different woman. It seemed as if she had been on a trip, a trip on LSD.
"What are you looking at me like that for?" he asked. "I just ate your pussy, that's all."
"Yes, dear," she said, "but you got me up to cloud nine with your tongue."
"Now it's time for you to do me," he smiled gleefully.
"Certainly, baby," she said, "and you have no idea how eager I am to do you."
Suddenly he was straddling her. As she felt his firm round buttocks gently pressing; on her breasts, she loved the sensation. A smile formed on her lips as she looked up at him as he pointed his penis toward her. "What are you smiling about?" he asked.
"About us," she laughed. "What about us, baby?" he demanded. "I was just thinking how wonderful it is," she said, "that we have each other. That's all we need. Just each other." "You're on the ball, Mom," he assured her. "All I know is that I love you, dear," she said, "and any physical acts of love is easy for me." "It's easy for me too," he smiled at her. There was no doubt in his mind now, about her desire for sex, and as she gripped his penis in her hand, she licked the head of it.
"What are you thinking about now, Mom?" he asked, as she performed each sexual rite.
"I was just thinking how delicious this tasted," she said, "and how a lot of other women would enjoy doing it, but they can't admit it."
"You mean Moms doing it with their sons?" he asked.
"Yes," she said. "You're a part of me. Of course I love you. I love you completely, and I can satisfy you."
"I know you can," he said, "I sure enjoy eating your pussy."
"I know you did, darling," she told him.
Now he could hardly wait to have her lick his cock off.
"Lick it," he begged, "oh yes, lick it. And while you're doing that, massage the balls if you will."
She loved the gentle way that he went about it. It was so different from her hardened drunk husband who would come in and demand her to perform sexual acts upon him. Tears moistened her eyes and then rolled down her cheeks.
"Now why are you crying, Mom?" he asked.
"Because, darling," she explained, "this is too much for me."
"Is it?" he smiled.
"Yes," she explained, "your father is just a bastard. When he fucks he makes so many demands. He doesn't know how to do it'with any finesse."
"What's finesse?" he demanded curiously.
"Finesse, baby, is when you put feeling and love into the act. He could never do that. He wasn't full of love, he was full of selfishness."
"Well forget about him and blow me," he insisted.
This time she convinced her son completely how much she adored every part of his body, and she wrapped her mouth over his cock and pulled him tightly to her, and began her vigorous mouth movements.
"Oh wow!" he panted. "That's beautiful, Mom, keep it up."
She knew she was pleasing him, and that was what excited her. She wanted above all else to give him a good time.
"Come on, Mom," he said, as she slid her mouth over his shaft.
He knew she wasn't very experienced at doing it, from the way that she began. He also knew that he would have to tell her how to do it, "Mom," he explained, "you're bungling it."
Sliding her mouth off his cock for a moment, she looked up at him.
"You're bugging me, baby," she said, "now let me do it my way. Are we going to rap or have sex?"
"Let's have sex," he smiled, "that's what I want, that's what I need."
He wasn't wasting any time now, as he stabbed it to her. Her lips fastened tightly around the cock shaft. She felt the juice starting to surface in his penib head. She loved this, letting his balls get a good jiggling action with her hand action.
"Oh," he gasped enthusiastically, "that's beautiful. Oh, Mom, do me!"
As he stabbed it into her face, she worked vigorously with her mouth movements to please him.
"Oh yes, yes," he gasped enthusiastically, "I love that, oh Mom, do it!"
Faster now and faster he continued. Every second was more exciting, more stimulating.
"Eat my cock," he gasped, "eat it. That's it, eat my cock, Oh, ah, yes, yes, I want it."
She was happy to accommodate him. And with fast movements he slammed away as his balls bounced on her chin. She loved the aroma of his loins. She thrilled at the sight of his saliva slick-ened shaft moving in and out in rhythmic pace.
"Blow it," he said, "blow it, baby, oh, ah, yes, yes, do it."
The super sensation that her mouth action was giving him was remarkable. He could hardly believe that she was so good at it. Apparently she was picking up knowledge quickly. Her passions propelled her into doing it very well. His big balls jiggled on her chin as he stabbed away.
"Keep it up, baby," he said, "keep it up. You're going to get a nice load in your mouth."
Encouraged by her son's suggestion that she was going to get a good load delivered in a minute or two, Margaret kept going. The exciting sensations that her son's cock stabbings created in her had her trembling. She felt, as his buttocks touched her bosom, that she couldn't stand it.
"You're trembling, Mom," he said, "I guess you want it real bad."
Now he rammed it down her throat. She felt it sliding down her throat and she gulped, for she knew it wouldn't be much longer.
"That's a great gulp," he chuckled, "and you're going to get it all the way soon."
Suddenly the creamy white sperm spasmed;
"I'm shooting," he cried excitedly, "I'm shooting my load."
Indeed he was, and Margaret was getting her first good load of her son's sperm. The delicious sperm was like a fantastic treat to her.
"Oh baby," he gasped excitedly, "is that ever juicy I"
Not only was Margaret surprised, but her son was as well. But he could never recall a time that he had shot such a big load. Apparently the passions had mixed with love and this had propelled him, ignited him, fired him up.
"Oh I love you, baby," he told her, "I love you. Keep doing it, there's more there for you."
She continued until he had finished. Finally, when he withdrew he looked at her. "How was it, Mom?" he asked. "In a word, delicious," she assured him. Then he moved forward and she let her tongue slide along his asscheeks. He loved the sensation of having her tongue lapping him. When she had finished biting and nibbling him there, she moved off and lay beside him. Wrapping his arms around her, he looked at her lovingly.
"There's nothing wrong with that, Mom," he said. "There was love there."
"The wrong kind of love," she admitted.
"No, no," he insisted. "Love is love."
"Not between mother and son," she reminded him, as guilt swept over her in waves.
She looked at him adoringly and once more tears clouded her eyes.
"Why are you always crying?" he asked, as he observed the tears running down her cheeks.
"Because," she said, "I can see so much more in this than you can. You know, darling, they would hate you if they knew what you were doing."
"Who would hate me?" he asked.
"Anyone who knew," she said. "You just can't do things like this and be accepted by society."
"Be accepted by society?" he said angrily. "What do I care about society?"
"You have to, honey," she warned him. "You have to."
"Why do I have to?" he asked angrily.
"I'll tell you why," she said, "you have to conform or be an outcast."
"An outcast?" he asked, not quite understanding what his mother was trying to explain to him.
"Yes, dear," she confided, "an outcast. Someone who is unacceptable."
For a moment she bristled herself. She heard something.
"What was that?" she asked him.
"Oh that was just a car with brakes squealing," he told her.
"Your father's car?" she demanded eagerly. "Dad is too loaded to put the brakes on that hard," he chuckled.
"Your father would do something awful if he ever caught us," she said. "It's true he doesn't treat any of us right, but if he ever thought we were doing anything wrong, he would be terribly angry."
"You've always been afraid of him, haven't you?" he asked.
"Yes, I have, and with good reason," she admitted.
"Will you tell me why?" he demanded.
"Alright," she said, "I guess I may as well tell you everything."
Once she told him she would tell him, she wondered if she should. She didn't say a word for a long moment. Then he looked at her.
"Well are you going to tell me or not?" he demanded.
"Alright," she said, "I'll tell you. You see, darling, there was a time when your father and I were madly in love. However, I had quite a bit of money and all of the properties were in my name. Then he decided we should make out our wills. Of course, it was a strange thing how it worked out. Most of the money in my will was made out to him. In other words, baby, it was a very good thing for him and a very bad thing for me."
"I see," he said. "The old man was using you."
"In a way," she told him. "But it was worse than that."
"What do you mean ?" he demanded.
"Well he tried to get rid of me a couple of times," she said.
Her son sat bolt upright in the bed.
"You sure of that, Mom ?" he demanded.
"Completely sure," she said. "I only wish I wasn't."
"Weil tell me about it," he asked curiously.
"I'll tell you exactly what happened," she said. "One evening, he was doing a little painting, and I went to the bathroom and got a glass and drank some water. I put the glass under the water tap, figuring that what was in the bottom of the glass was just more water. Instead, it was paint thinner."
"It was what?" he demanded.
"It was paint thinner," she informed him.
"Oh God," he said, "that's terrible."
"Sure it was terrible," she said.
"What did you do, Mom?" he asked. "The only thing I could do," she said, "go to the emergency hospital."
"And who put the paint thinner there?" he asked.
"I'll tell you that in a minute," she explained.
With a sigh she continued.
"I went to the hospital and they pumped my stomach. They got it all out. They said I would have died if I hadn't gotten there immediately."
"Oh tell me," he said curiously, "what did Dad do? What did Dad say?"
"Your father didn't say a word," she said, "not one word. Finally I asked him how paint thinner got in my glass in the bathroom."
"And what did he say?" he demanded.
"He simply said that he had made a mistake. That he wanted to wash his hands off as he was painting. He said he put the paint thinner into that glass and rinsed his fingers off."
"But he knew it was the glass that you drank out of," her son reminded her.
"He knew," she said, "and I knew. I knew he wanted to get rid of me. He did it on purpose."
"What was the second time?" he demanded.
"I don't know whether I can even talk about it now," she said. "It was so awful. I'd better not mention it."
"You've got to tell me," he asked her. "I want to know."
"I don't think I should tell you at all," she said, thinking it over carefully, "actually dear I'm sorry I mentioned this today."
"Don't be sorry," he told her, "there's nothing to be sorry about."
Just then she did hear a car driving up.
"Oh God that's him now," she said nervously. "You get out of here, dear, he's capable of anything. And don't tell anyone what I've told you. Our lives could depend on it. You understand?"
Her son looked at her with maturity now.
"I understand a lot of things I didn't understand before tonight," he said, "that's why you could never make out with Dad the way you should. That's why a lot of your passion was directed toward me."
"You're right, dear," she said, "that was why I felt so much for you and so little for him. I knew he was a murderer in heart, and I couldn't stand him."
"Oh I don't blame you," he assured her. "How could anyone stand a guy who would pull something like that?"
"Don't hate me, Bill," she said, "please don't. Later on you may want to hate me for what we did tonight, but remember whatever I did, baby, I did it with love. Love because I've got so little in my life."
"I would never hate you, Mom," he said affectionately. "But I hate Dad worse than ever."
"You mustn't hate him either, honey," she said, "he's a sick man. That's why he stays out and drinks, and, he might be on drugs for all we know."
"He's a dangerous man," he said, "I don't like to be around him."
"I don't either," she said, "but I'm trapped."
"You don't have to be trapped," he said, "you can always divorce him."
"It isn't as easy as that, darling," she assured him..