Chapter 2
When Glen came in stone drunk, his wife pretended to be asleep.
"Hi honey," he slurred drunkedly.
"Don't you hi honey me," she told him, "you're stinking drunk again."
"Sure I am," he said nervously, "and why shouldn't I be? I don't have a son who loves me, and a wife who won't give me a good piece of ass."
"That's no way to talk to me," she said, "you come in here loaded all the time, what do you expect?"
"A little consideration from my family," he said, "and I don't get none."
"Did you ever think that you have to earn that respect?" Margaret asked her husband.
"Earn it?" he said, immediately taking off his clothes. "What are you talking about? I keep you weating, don't I?"
"Life is a lot more than that," she said, "emotionally we're starved. Sure you've got a nice house but both my son and I are famished for affection. It isn't much fun to live like this."
"What do you mean," he demanded, "Not much fun?"
"It's horrible, wondering if you're going to come home alive or dead."
"You don't have to wonder about that," he said, slipping out of his shorts and getting into bed with her. "You know that if I'm dead they'll take me to the morgue. If I'm alive I'll come home."
He laughed as he thought that he'd pulled a funny.
"I don't find your warped sense of humor amusing," she said. "Just an old drunk, that's all you are anymore."
"Now don't you call me an old drunk," he said, as he put his arms around his wife's shoulders.
"Get your hands off me," Margaret complained.
"I'll squeeze your breath out if you talk to me like that anymore," he said angrily.
As he said that, his young son Bill was standing at the door. He was ready to leap in, and sock his father. However, his father took his hands off his mother's neck immediately and rolled over and went into a drunken sleep.
The next morning Margaret had difficulty getting him up to get to work.
"Glen," she began, "time to rise and shine."
"It's the middle of the night," he stammered.
"The hell it is," she said, "it's seven o'clock in the morning."
"Did they change that time again?" he demanded.
"No," she said, "they haven't changed the time and the sun is still keeping the same schedule in the heavens."
"Don't mention heaven," he said as he tried to wake up, "because I know I'm slated to go to hell."
"Are you?" she asked. "Why do you say that?"
"I was only kidding," he said, "Am I on the witness stand all the time?"
"Why no," she told him, "do you feel guilty or something that you should be on the witness stand all the time?"
He sat up in bed and groaned and complained to his wife. He was getting more disgusted with her every moment as he had a hunch that she was rubbing it in about the poisoning incident.
"You're trying to tell me something, Margaret?" he demanded.
"Why no, dear," she said, "did you think I was speaking with double meanings?"
"You always are," he told her.
"It's your guilty conscience," she said. "Don't try to saddle me with your problem conscience."
"I don't feel guilty for nothing I've ever done," he said.
As he got out of bed, she noticed that he was wobbling.
"Maybe you'd betted stay home today, honey," she said. "You can't be going to work like this. They'd send you back some day."
"On a slab, I hope," he said. "I'm tired of living. What good is it, honey? We're all sitting around waiting for the bomb to go off."
"Don't be rediculous," she said, "it doesn't look as if we have a single thing to worry about."
"That's what you think," he told her. "Things go from bad to worse. Actually, I think we should go by the morgue and envy the dead."
"Now stop it," Margaret told him. "It's time to go to work."
She figured that as long as he was determined to go on, he might as well get there on time. For she knew that if he got there late there would be many problems that he would have to face.
Finally he did manage to stagger out of bed. When he was gone, and young Bill was up for breakfast, she talked with him some more. "About last night," she said quietly, "let's for- get it ever happened."
"How can I forget it?" he smiled. "I enjoyed it, Mom."
"So did I," she admitted, "but tha-t doesn't mean that we have a right to do it because we enjoyed it."
"Tell me about that second poisoning," he asked. "I've been lying awake thinking about that all night."
"I never should have told you about it the first time," she insisted.
"But you did, Mom," he said, reaching out and touching her hand affectionately.
"Go on," he insisted.
Both of them were so absorbed in what they were talking about, they didn't even notice the father walk in.
"Well, well, isn't this cozy," he said. "You two sitting here having a liesurely breakfast after you rush me off to work. I'm the work horse, the one who is supposed to support you in style."
"You bastard," Margaret snapped. "Coming in like this and scaring us. Your son has some problems. You never have any time to talk over any problems with him, so I do. And when I am willing to give him time and consideration, your son, our son, you throw insults our way."
"Oh I'm sorry about throwing insults your way," he said. "I know that is something you never do."
"I have to," she explained, "because that's the only type of talk you understand. You're heartless, you're cold and you don't give a damn about anything or anyone except yourself."
"Oh yes, I do," he told her, "it's just that you don't care to listen to my problems."
"You have your problems alright," Margaret assured him knowingly, "and they all link to the bottle."
"Yeah, but what makes me go to the bottle?" he demanded. "Did you ever think about that?"
"Sure I have," she told him, "I've thought about all the women that you chase around with. Those women are enough to drive any man to drink."
"Did you ever think it could be you?" he smiled smugly. "Precious wife, did you ever consider that it's your bitching, and humor that makes this home a miserable hell that drives me to other women?"
Now Bill stepped in. Rising to his feet, he glared at his father.
"Go get what you forgot, Dad, and get out of here. Mom and I are having a little talk."
"So now my own son is telling me to split."
"I'm just telling you to keep your mouth shut," he said. "Mom and I have a peaceful home when you're not around."
"Well you wouldn't have much of a home at all," he exploded, "if I wasn't paying the bill. And don't you, wiseass son, ever forget it."
"And don't talk to me that way," he said angrily.
The point had been well made, and he went and got the briefcase he had forgotten. He left without saying a word. When he was gone, Margaret looked at her son. Pride swept over her face as she thanked him.
"I can't thank you enough, darling," she smiled, "for what you did today. You really told your father off. It's about time somebody did."
"Well I'm becoming a man," he said, "and you aren't going to have to accept any of his crap anymore."
"Thank you, darling," she said quietly, "you don't know how much it means to me to have you."
"I'd kill him if he ever tried to lay a hand on you," he assured her.
"Oh I don't really think he's dangerous," she said. "He's such a bungler, he'd probably never be able to carry it off."
"You never know," he said. "Sometimes he might strike again. You see, once a killer knows that you're onto them, then they are afraid of you. He might just figure that his life isn't worth a tinker's damn, so he gets rid of you."
"I've thought of that," she admitted, "and it does make me feel edgy. But I try to throw that out of my mind. It isn't worth dwelling on."
"But you might have to dwell on it," he reminded her, "you can't run away from the truth for very long."
"I know that," she admitted.
"Mom," he said, "did you ever think of turning Dad in?"
"Of course not," she said. "It would bring shame on us all."
"Would it?" he asked her. "Why should it bring shame on you, Mom?"
"Because," she said, "dirt-rubs off."
"What do you mean by that?" he asked her to explain.
"Simply this, baby," she went on, "when a person gets into the slime and grime of things, the only way he can get clean is by dealing with other people. And, baby, you haven't dealt with anyone else."
"What do you mean dealt with anyone else?" he said.
"Just your Mom and your father," she said, "you have, no brothers or sisters. So, if the truth came out, that we both were a couple of bastards that had wrecked up our lives, it could hurt you, honey."
"I guess it could, couldn't it?" he asked.
"Certainly, dear, it could. That's why I've done everything in my power to spare you that hurt."
He put his arm around her affectionately.
"I really appreciate you, Mom," he said. "I don't often tell you but I do love you."
"I know you do, darling," she said, "and that's what makes life worth living. That is what has kept me going."
"Beautiful," he smiled, "that's just beautiful the way you put it."
"I couldn't put it any other way," she assured him. "That's exactly what I feel."
Margaret was relieved to hear Bill and to see him look at her with love. It wasn't only the lust that pleased her, but the love that thrilled her.
"Now Mom," he smiled, "are you going to te.ll me about that second attempt?"
"You want to know so bad, baby," she admitted. "I'll tell you."
She wanted to talk about it, yet she still couldn't find words.
"Maybe I should fix myself a cup of coffee," she said.
"A cup of coffee?" he said. "Why do you need that?"
"Because baby," she said, "I can hardly find the words to continue."
She fumbled for words, as she went to heat up some more coffee. Then returning to the table, she did continue.
"Son," she said, "we were traveling in Mexico. It was during the holidays, you remember the time."
"Yes," he said, "I stayed at Uncle Frank's place."
"That was right," she said. "The bastard called it our second honeymoon."
"The hypocrite," he commented.
"Well, we had gone to dine late one night. They dine very late in Mexico City. Now, baby, your father was crazy for me. Actually, he loved me dearly in one way and he hated me completely in another. It was this ambiguity within him that I'm sure caused him to do what he did."
"Go on," he said, "you're driving me crazy not telling me."
"Alright darling," she said reaching out and touching his hand affectionately, "I'll tell you, but it's only for your ears to hear."
As she continued telling her story he listened attentively.
"Here's what happened," she explained. "When I got back from that restaurant with that wonderful meal, I noticed my stomach felt a little upset.
The next morning I found it difficult to go to breakfast. We were walking in a park, and he said, 'You'll probably get better before you get worse!'
"What do you mean by that?" I asked him.
"Oh nothing," he smiled.
"The smile on his face told me a lot. As I told you, your father is the biggest bungler in the world. He had a look on his face like the cat that swallowed the canary. Well I went back to the hotel and he didn't come home for dinner. This worried me a lot, because I couldn't figure it out. Then, I began getting the most awful pains. Terrible pains next to my heart. I lay there on the bed, and I couldn't move. I was in this horrible misery, I thought I would die."
He looked at her and asked, "Now how did you connect father with this?"
"I'll tell you how I connected him," she said sadly, "he kept having women call. They would ask for him and tell him that if he came in there is a party that he was invited to. Of course, this only added to my torture. I could see how little he cared for me. It was perfectly clear to me, that he didn't give a damn. That he was only concerned with himself. And this tortured the hell out of me." "I imagine it would," he nodded.
"But what finally happened?" he asked her.
"Well the next morning your dear father came home for breakfast," she said, "and when he did he brought the most gorgeous young Mexican chick with him. I looked at her and I finally was iortunate enough to be able to throw up. I felt terrible, vomiting as he brought this girl into the bedroom."
"And do you think he poisoned some food?" he asked.
"I do," she said. "Of course I can't prove it, but I've never suffered like that any time before in my life. And I have every reason to believe that it was something he had done."
"No wonder you hate him so much," he said.
"Believe it or not," Margaret said sadly, "I don't hate your father, I still love him, but I can't trust him. How can I?"
"I don't blame you, Mom," he said. "And as I sit here looking at you I want to fuck you again."
"Why baby," she smiled, "we can't fuck all the time."
"It isn't all the time, Mom," he begged, "please let me fuck you."
"Bill," she said, "you've got to go to school."
"Call up and say that I'm sick, will you, Mom?" he demanded.
Margaret looked at him and she knew that she couldn't resist his wish.
"If it will make you happy, honey," she told him, "I'll do it."
"You have no idea how happy it will make me," he assured her.
Even though it went against her conscience to do what she was doing, she decided she would do it. Picking up the phone, she called the school.
"I'm sorry," she began, "but my son Bill can't make it today."
"Who is this?" the voice at the other end of the line asked her.
"Margaret Lansdale," she said. "I'm calling for my son Bill. I think he has the flu."
"Oh it's been going around," the voice answered. "Better see a doctor, take some shots."
"Certainly," she said. "Thank you so much."
"You know when Bill will be back?" she said. "The flu usually takes three or four days."
"Oh," Margaret said, inventing fast, "well maybe the shot will get him well tomorrow.".
"What happened, Mom?" he asked her.
"I got trapped," she said. "The woman who answered the switchboard at the school said that the flu usually takes three or four days."
He looked at her and laughed and then he stood up and began unbuttoning his shirt.
"We had better go to the bedroom and do this," she said.
"The guest bedroom too," he said. "Just in case Dad comes home. We can put the double lock on the door, and he won't know we're in there."
"Certainly, dear," she said. "Let's go. We won't even do the dishes now."
"Fuck first and do dishes later," he chuckled.
Margaret walked with her son to the bedroom. He could hardly wait for some action. He began taking off his pants and she was watching. She was eager for action, and when she saw his giant sized cock emerging from his prison concealment in his shorts, she smiled.
"Oh honey," she said, reaching over and grabbing it. "What a beautiful cock J"
"You like my hunk of meat, Mom?" he grinned. "I do too. Well, Mom, let's ball."
"Yes baby," she smiled, "let's ball."
Margaret stripped slowly giving her son the pleasure of seeing her remove garment by garment.
"Oh Mom," he exclaimed, "do you ever look gorgeous."
"It's the first time you're seeing my body in the daylight, dear, isn't it?" she smiled.
"It is," he said, "and it's all the more beautiful by daylight."
As Margaret's bosoms flashed into view, he looked at her nipples. It excited him as he saw the size of the big red nipples.
"Oh what a gorgeous body," he said, "I can hardly wait to put my mouth on your breasts."
He didn't wait either. Coming over to her, he first buried his head on her breasts. Then he began licking on one breast, while he gripped the other. She loved the sensation of his fingertips as they pressed at the nipples.
"Oh baby," she smiled, "you don't know how good that feels to me."
He was really getting turned on now and so was she.
"Oh, do it," he begged her, "do it." She gripped him tightly in her arms, and soon she was making passionate love to him.
"Oh I love you, son," she exclaimed, "I love you so much."
"Lick them," Margaret cried, "lick them, baby, lick them both."
The young son only wished that he had two mouths to accommodate his lustful mother. He moved his mouth from one breast to the other.
"That's it, darling," she cried ecstatically, "I love that. Yes, do it."
The pleasurable sensations that he was enjoying now were driving him out of his mind. "Oh Mom," he panted as he reached down into her panties and pressed her mound, "you're hot, you're dripping."
"I guess I am, son," she smiled. "I'm so stimulated."
"Oh that's tieautif ul," he panted, "give me some fun."
It wasn't going to be much longer now. Dropping to his knees once more, he pulled her panties off and exposed her vagina to view. As he looked at it, he used his fingertips to pry the lips apart. When he saw the moist quivering pink flesh, his hot tongue stabbed inside of her.
"Oh Billy baby," she cried ecstatically, "you have no idea how good that feels to your mother. Lick it, lick my pussy, love Mommy's pussy. Oh, ah, yes, yes Billy, love Mommy's pussy."
Billy lapped away at her mound, and she was becoming more and more intensely excited every second.
"Eat it son," she cried ecstatically, "eat Mamma's pussy."
Her groans of delight and moans of passionate pleasure only added to the thrill of eating her pussy. It seemed so right, so pure, so beautiful that young Bill could see nothing wrong with his vibrant tongue stabbing away on his own mother's mound.
Withdrawing from her, he stood before her.
Glancing down at the rock hard cock she took it in her hand and squeezed it.
"I love you," she said, "I love you so much."
Then Margaret dropped to her knees. Grasping her son's asscheeks, she pulled his penis to her mouth. She began mouthing the head of it hotly.
"Keep that up, baby," he said, "oh Mom, love me. That's it, lick my cock."
She loved his voice as he gave his impassioned plea for her to do him. Electrified by the erotic waves of pleasure that surged through her body, she let him thrust his rock hard penis down her throat.
"Oh that's a good throat fuck," he gasped, "I dig it that way."
She was excited and stimulated now. The violent thrusts increased in pace.
"Oh, ah, yes, yes!" he panted. "That's what I want. Oh, do it!"
She pulled off his cock so it wouldn't erupt in her throat. She had developed a delight for eating his sperm, and she didn't want the load to explode when it was sliding down her throat.
"Keep it up Mom," he begged excitedly, "keep it up. Oh, ah, yes, yes, just like that, oh Mom, you're driving me out of my gourd."
The young boy kept it up. Every moment she was getting more excited and stimulated.
"Eat it," he cried, "eat that cock. Oh baby, I'm fucking your face."
As he went on ramming it to her, he was getting more and more stimulated.
"Oh wow!" he gasped. "This is wild."
It seemed as if the sensations would never stop. The faster he fucked her face the more eager she became for his balls to explode within her mouth. She could almost taste his juicy cock spurting its creamy thick load. She tugged on his testicles and excited him. Effectively using one hand on his asscheeks, she played with him there. Then she used her other hand for his balls. Her mouth remained on the head of his shaft as she focused a suction grip there. He loved the sight of her lips hanging on the head of it.
"Gobble it," he gasped like an animal, "gobble that cock. Yes, yes, gobble that gorgeous cock of mine."
She couldn't help but observe that her son's cock was much harder than her husband's cock was. She was delighted to find it so rigid, so ready.
"Eet me," he begged, "eat me. That's it, let me fill your face with this prick juice, oh, baby, eat me!"
The pleasure was intense. The two of them had brought it to a focal point.
"Oh," he gasped, "I'm almost there. Oh, yes, yes, get it, go get it!"
As if he were rooting for her to do it at a game, he continued.
"Eat it!" he gasped as he shot his rod in her mouth.
"Oh, I'm cumming," he cried, "I'm cumming. Yes. Yes, yes, I'm cumming!"
As the rock hard cock exploded in her mouth, she gulped the delicious substance. She rolled it around in her mouth, refusing to release it immediately. She delighted to the tangy taste of her son's zesty load.
"Oh that's what I like," he gasped. "Hang in there."
She grabbed his asscheeks now, and pulled him tighter to her as his cock slid down her throat smoothly. A little more juice erupted from his penis shaft, and then he pulled it slowly out As he withdrew his cock from his mother's mouth, she regretted this act. She was enjoying herself so much, she hated to release it and give it back to him. When he pulled it all the way out, she just looked up at him adoringly.
"So how about that?" he smiled sexually.
"Did you like the way I did it to you?" she asked like a shy young girl asking her lover, how he enjoyed his first crack at her ass.
"Yes I did, Mom," he said, running his fingers through her hair lovingly.
She got to her feet and went over to the bed to lay down.
"Honey," she said, "could you go into the living room and get that bottle of bourbon? Bring some seven and some ice cubes too."
"Can I have a drink with you, Mom?" he asked eagerly.
"No darting," she objected, "you shouldn't drink."
"But if we can do all this," he asked, "why can't I drink?"
"Because baby," she said, "it just wouldn't be right."
He didn't pay any attention to what she said, and went to the door and locked it. Then he went out to the bar and got the pottle of bourbon. He didn't bother to put any clothes on, and enjoyed walking around the house in the nude. However, he didn't enjoy it when the mail lady came to the door and dropped the mail in the slot. She got a glance of him running in the buff to the kitchen. He got the ice cubes, out of the refrigerator. Then he picked up a bottle of seven and returned with the seven, the bourbon and the ice cubes.
"Oh son," she said, "you shouldn't run around the house naked."
"Give the women a treat," he said. "Why not let them see me bareass naked?"
He slapped his ass a playful slap, as he began pouring drinks.
"I told you I didn't want you to drink," Margaret told Bill.
"Sure you told me," he said, "but that doesn't mean I heard you, does it?"
He had that innocent smile on his face that always intrigued her.
"Now baby," she said quietly, "don't be impossible."
"I'm not being impossible," she said, "but there are things you shouldn't do."
"And among them is fucking my own Mom."
"I know," she said.
"Yeah," he said. "We have done a lot of things we shouldn't do, but doesn't everybody?"
As they both drank, their tongues both loosened.
"I've wanted to do this with you for so long, darling," she said, "you wouldn't believe it. But I was always afraid."
"Of what?" he smiled.
"Of what you would think of it," she said. "After all you might have gotten angry with me."
"I wouldn't get angry with you," he assured her, "not when I wanted it too."
"Then you did want it as much," she asked eagerly.
"Of course I did," he assured her. "I wouldn't have done this if I didn't."
She realized that he must have been telling the truth for when he had performed with her, he had put his all into it. Glancing down she noticed he was still somewhat rigid. She massaged his testicles and played with his cock. She was determined to get him excited.
"Oh Mom; stop it," he complained, "you shouldn't do that to me."
"I'm just helping you," she smiled, "you need a little action."
As she got him more and more stimulated, the hot desires for more sex surged within her body, now she spread her legs invitingly, lifting them.
"I'll wrap my legs around your waist, lover, if you want to stab it in there," she told him.
"Slide a pillow under your ass, Mom," he said, "and that will give me a better fucking position."
She wadded up a pillow as he instructed her to do and slid it under her asscheeks. Then, he went to town by getting between her legs and straddling her. With rock hard cock stabs he glided in smoothly.
"Oh yes," he grunted as he stabbed into her vigorously.
"Fuck it," he told her excitedly. "Yes, yes, Mom, that's what I want, fuck me."
Faster and faster he rode into her. She loved every moment of it.
"Give it to me," he gasped in delight, "give it to me. That's it, fuck, fuck, fuck!".
Furiously, he slammed into her. She was enjoying it now more every moment.
"Yes," he cried enthusiastically, "yes, fuck it, fuck fast, fuck it, baby, fuck it!"
The pleasure that he was deriving from this fast fuck was increasing with every cock stab. Her vagina muscles gripped his rock hard cock tightly. He knew that he would be shooting soon.
"Oh Mom," he gasped excitedly, "does that ever feel juicy!"
She was amazed how much pleasure she was deriving from this vigorous action.
"Grab my ass, Mom," he begged, "and hang on."
IShe massaged his asscheeks as he vigorously tabbed into her. With every throbbing cock stab, he pleasure increased.
"Keep it up, Mom," he begged. "Yes, yes, keep it going, that's what I want. Oh yes, fuck me!"
She didn't stop for a second. She continued giving him the action he wanted.
"Like that?" she chuckled. "Is that it?"
As the rock hard cock stabbed away, she became more and more intensely excited.
"Oh wow!" he told her. "That's what I want."
It wasn't going to be much longer now, and he knew it. He was hoping that she would slide her finger up his asshole. He thought he might enjoy that.
"Would you slip a finger up there?" he asked her.
"Sure I will," she said.
Sliding a finger up the asshole, pleased him. He grabbed it and he went on stabbing her.
"Oh baby," she panted, "does it ever feel good. You're really giving Mamma a nice fuck. Keep fucking. Faster, just like that, oh, ah, yes, yes, that's what I want, that's what I need."
The super sensations that were surfacing now were bringing him closer and closer to climax.
"Oh," he gasped, "fuck, fuck baby, fuck!"
The furious pitch of their fucking continued until she climaxed.
"I'll be there in a minute," he grunted, as he thrust forward.
Then his cock suddenly exploded within her.
"I'm cumming," he cried enthusiastically, "I made it. Oh, Mom, that was beautiful. I got my gun off."
She smiled as he went on pumping. Slipping her finger out of his asshole, she gripped both of his asscheeks and massaged them vigorously. He loved her rough ass grip.
"I like your hot hands on me," he told her. "It feels so good to me."
"That's good, honey," she said "I love loving you."
The intense pleasure that the two of them had enjoyed was climaxed with a kiss, a passionate kiss, for Margaret opened her mouth as Bill's tongue swept inside it. Soon she was flicking her tongue quickly over his tongue. And as their tongues lashed away in their lovemaking, she realized how much she adored him. Her hands were all over his body. She was rubbing his shoulders, sliding her hands over his back and letting her fingertips reach to his asscheeks. Finally, he puiled his mouth away from hers and looked at her.
"I love you," he said.
"And Bill baby," she said, "I adore you.. You know that."
His eyes glistened as he looked into his mother's . impassioned eyes.
"They'd hang us for this, honey," she said, "so don't you never tell nobody."
"Don't worry, Mom," he said, "I wasn't born yesterday."
"Well judging from the size of your cock to- day," she said, "I can agree with you."
He was indeed large for his age, and she patted his ass as he moved away from her.
"Another drink," he said, "to celebrate us."
"Or should it be a celebration ?" she questioned.
"What do you mean, Mom?" he demanded with a broad grin.
"Maybe we should wait and see how it's going to end," she said edgily.
"When two people are in love," he enthused, "it can only end in good times for everybody."
"That's what you think," she said. "Remember Romeo and Juliet. They had a pretty tragic end. And so did a lot of other famous lovers."
"Well we're not famous," he laughed, "we're just infamous."
"Well I'm glad you knew that word," she said, "and let's add notorious. We're notorius lovers."
He poured her a drink and the two of them took a toast.
"Here's to us," he said, "and may all the mother fuckers in the world be as happy as we are."
"Oh you're awful, Bill," she laughed, "you really are. But I love you. As wild and uninhibited and terrible as you are, I adore you."
Her unparalleled pleasure with her son's body surprised him. He knew that she got a big charge out of him, but he was amazed what a big charge.
"Mom," he smiled at her, "when can we make it again?"
"Well we ought to put it off till at least Saturday night," she said, "that's your father's regular pub night."
"With who?" he laughed.
"With any dame he can pick up at the bar," she said, "surely not with me. He hasn't given me a good balling for years. That's why I've been so nervous for a good screwing myself."