Chapter 2

Now that she was inside the house, with the lingering tremors of a wholly unexpected outdoor orgasm tingling deep up her darkly slippery vagina, Lola walked into her living room and slowly, gladly let herself down on her thick, soft carpet. The house, built so many years ago, was cool and comfortable. The long, thick fibers of the rug felt good on her lightly sweated skin. Her cunt felt good, real good, and she inserted her finger between the thick, slobber-coated lips of her sex, knowing that just a flickering rub around her hard clitoris would bring her to another smashing cum. How marvelous to be hot, to be able to cum, to feel free!

"As long as I'm already started," she whispered to herself. The idea brought a giggle. She was so far behind with her sex! And she had always loved it so. She had been like a half-dead woman, for a long time after Mike's tragic death. And, being the kind of woman she was, with the memory of her beloved uncle, and of her equally beloved husband in her mind, it was just impossible to go out and pick up some dummy with a hard-on. Just to get fucked. Just the thought of it gave her the shivers, and she reached down near her solidly rounded hip and patted the battery-powered dildo.

The sound of a footstep on her concrete porch brought her up to sitting position, her warm, still partly open cunt pressed against the teasing fibers of her carpet, until she remembered that the door was latched.

So, feeling secure, she lay for a few seconds, smiling, remembering the deep, soul shaking thrill of her first double use of the inanimate but loveable mechanical fucker. And the shockingly lascivious sight of Tim Shelton, wildly jerking at his fantastic prick.

She was in this rosy descent into voyeurism recalled when the door chime unexpectedly sounded its two-toned summons. It brought her back to the present with such a shock that she leaped up, her strong, lovely body poised for flight. And then she heard a voice, a pleading, frightened voice, calling her name.

Without hesitation, she opened the front door, forgetting that she was totally nude, although she stood partly behind the door.

When she saw who it was, a darkly handsome boy with a tear-stained face set in lines of pain, she quickly unlatched the screen. And with that simple act, she automatically lit the fire that still smoldered in the soft, slick dark of her cunt.

"Come in, Timmie," she said kindly. "Whatever in the world is the matter?" And her heart pounded as the young boy, tall for his age, perhaps, but still, only thirteen, fell against the soft warmth of her sensitive breasts, clutching at her, sobbing and crying.

Perhaps he was blinded by the bright sun, for he did not seem to notice that she was naked. He was so deeply wrought up, so wrapped in trouble, that he could only think of his own fears, and seek for some solution. The kindly woman's mother heart was so touched, in spite of the lingering warmth in the slippery folds of her twat, that she led him to her big couch, made him sit down, and held his face against her soft, smooth breasts. Indeed, feeling the moist warmth of his breath on these sensitive pillows of flesh, she had a sudden, fiercely maternal impulse to lift one of them to his sweet young mouth, squeezing it into a cone with the hard nipple as its point, to suckle him as she would an infant.

In the few moments since she had stumbled into her home, weak-kneed from her violent burst of fuck-joy, the boy had dressed, hiding that wonderfully mature cock of his, and Lola's fingers itched to undo his zipper, to fumble in the sweetly humid areas of his crotch, and to caress that warm, delicious morsel of flesh. And that, too, was a sharply strange turn of mind and body for her. For she had never before paid the least sexual attention to youngsters.

But he was babbling something inarticulate against the maternal softness and warmth of her big titties, and she held him tightly, listening to his voice above the thudding of her heart and the corresponding throb of blood in her cuntal blood supply.

"Don't tell on me," he was sobbing. "Oh, please, don't tell on me! I'll never do it again! I promise! Never, never! I'll work for you for free, honest, Aunt Lola! Just don't tell my dad! Oh, please!" He was as desperate as any soul in pain can ever be, and Lola Todd, whose kindly nature had been sickened many times by the harshly strick treatment she had seen-and heard-as her former friends mistreated Tim, held him with tender fierceness and said clearly: "Be quiet, darling boy! Hush, Timmie! Aunt Lola won't hurt you! Believe me, I'll never tell! What in the world's the matter?" And she felt his smooth young face move forcefully across her tender breasts, felt the wet warmth of his tears course down their blue-veined whiteness.

She continued to pet him, running one hand down inside his collar, down the smooth, warm skin of his back, once again wishing she could see and feel his beautiful young cock. There was a strong, male scent coming up from his summer-warmed young body. Sweat and crotch perfume, the subtly carnal smell of hot breath.

In a burst of sensuality, she mashed the boy's face against the throbbing warmth in her titties, and said in a firm voice: "Stop crying, Timmie! Look at me!"

When he pulled back, still sobbing, still unable to look her in the eye, she shook him by his broad young shoulders, and again she commanded: "Be still! Tell me what's wrong with you. Why are you so frightened?"

This time, his eyes accustomed to the comparative darkness of the house, he saw that his hostess was still naked, beautifully displaying the smoothness and loveliness of breast and belly and thigh, with the darkly blonde bush of cunt hair snuggling down to where it disappeared in a triangular delta of warm promise between her legs. Lola was not sure, but she thought that, from the corner of her eye, she saw a quick movement in the soft lump in his crotch. In an impulse of sympathy, she took one of his unresisting hands and put it on her breast, on one of the swollen, hard fleshed nipples.

"What is it?" she asked softly. "Why would I tell on you? And what would I tell? Come on, Timmie, we're old friends. Remember, you always call me Aunt Lola. Ever since you were a baby. Tell me."

He drew away, and there was a strange expression on his face. He could not help but see the sexual treasures at his side, a sight he had never seen except by peeping on his mom, Lola was certain. It broke her heart to realize that his look was one of suspicion. And she had an idea that she knew why-she was a grown up, he was a child. A member of that miserable minority, teenagers. Without a voice in anything, with no right of protest, no right of argument, no basis on which to question or dispute a parental edict. Any adult edict. It gave the tender hearted woman a sharp twist of anger at Larry and Ellen Shelton, at their cold and loveless discipline they practiced on this helpless child. But her mind was racing along other lines.

She wanted to see that cock!

To see it close up. To handle it, to inhale the manly aromas that would arise when the thick, soft foreskin was pulled back from the swollen, blood-filled head. So, although every true instinct in her told her to be kind, to be tender, a deeper hunger made her act as if she were a giant cat and this young male was her prey.

Therefore, she held his strong, slender forearm, leaned back, opened her voluptuous thighs to show her plump, sweet lipped cunt in all its wet, pink glory, and said: "Maybe I'd better know what you're so worried about before I make any promises."

The boy's instant reaction told her she had done wisely. He was once again on the alert, still frightened, but better oriented.

"You know," he said sullenly. "You know damn well. You're just trying to trap me into confessing something I didn't do. Like mom."

Although she was heartsick at his bracketing her emotionally with that tyrant, his mother, Lola felt that she now had a handle on the situation. And she felt no shame. After all, she knew that what she had in mind for Timmie was both right and good. If she could get that cock of his in her hot cunt, in her sucking, licking throat, it would be better for him than the austerity and fruitlessness of jerking his sweet cream out of that hard, oversized dick of his. But she had to get worse in order to help him better.

She eyed him sternly. "I don't need to trap small boys," she said coolly. "I already have enough on you. You've been fucking a kid named Alice, haven't you? That has to be just one chickie, and we both know exactly who she is, don't we? Little Alice Bond. That sweet faced little kid next door to your folks. Right?"

The boy tried to twist away. "There you go!" he cried angrily. "Just like my mom! Putting two and two together and getting a million. I never fucked-oh-oh!" He swallowed his words, flushing a deep red under his dark tan. His good manners made him react automatically. "I'm sorry, Miz Todd," he said, hanging his head. "For saying that word, I mean."

It almost broke through Lola's cunt hunger, he was so sweet, so pitiful. But she maintained her calm, although her heart yearned to comfort the defenseless boy.

"I'll overlook the word, Timothy," she said, "if you'll clarify what you started to say. 'Fuck,' is it? Well, that's not such a bad word, in some ways. It says what it means, exactly. So, go on."

Timmie looked at her from under his thick brows. Her use of the tabooed word had shaken him. "I was going to say that I never, uh, did that to Alice Bond. She's a good kid. She's pretty young, but she's all right."

His face had lighted up, and he showed some animation. "If anyone says she fu-I mean, if she does anything like that with guys, they're just lying." He seemed to realize that he might be saying too much, and fell silent again, a sad, sullen look on his handsome face.

"All right, then, Timothy, I'll accept that. For the moment, at least." Lola felt she was near a breakthrough. "You don't want me to tell your mom. Something. But what? You say I know. But I want you to come right out and say it. Maybe I won't tell."

The boy leaned away from her and she let go his arm. He tried to get up, but his face flushed and he sat back down.

Hard-on, Lola thought eagerly. A real, bona fide hard-on. Wow!

Aloud, she said: "Do as I say! Tell me!"

The boy hung his head. "You know," he muttered. "You must have seen me up there in my hideaway. Beating off. Loping my mule. Oh, damn it! You saw me jerking off! I know you did! That's what made you faint, isn't it? Oh, Aunt Lola!" he cried, and buried his face in his hands, "I'm so sorry! It was bad, I know! But don't tell, please! Mom'll kill me!"

Lola drew a deep, shuddering breath. This was too much. She rose from the couch and braced her hand on the young boy's shoulder. "Come along with me, Timmie," she whispered. "I have to talk to you."

Dumbly, but with some hope beginning to run in his terrified mind, he got up and followed her. Now that she was walking ahead of him, not looking at him, two things happened.

One, he hastily pulled at his hard cock and got it up along his belly, a great relief. The other, he gawked openly at the smooth, opulent ass, with its dark crease, the blonde hair which hung down and was barely visible between her legs, and the strongly sculptured thighs. It made his cock harder, although he was still frightened.

When they were in her bedroom, Lola pulled two pillows together and lay down. Once again, she opened her thighs, watching the boy's red faced efforts not to look at her softly parted cunt lips, so thick and fat, so generously bedewed with her cunt's oozings.

"So you know I fainted," she said softly. "Tell me the truth, how do you know that?" She recalled that now, twice, he had called her "Aunt" Lola. Well, he had called her that, all through his babyhood and young childhood. That was when she and Mike had been close-oh, very close, indeed-with his mother and father. She knew how Timmie had come by that great cock. Honest inheritance.

The boy pulled himself together. "I heard you hollering," he said boldly. "So I stopped-uh, what I was doing-and ran up the side of the ditch. You were fainted. Bare assed, still hollering a little, humping up and down. But out of it." He paused and cleared his throat, but went on courageously: "So I knew you'd seen me, and it had made you faint."

He was trembling, but Lola could see that his young cock was almost bursting out of his pants.

"You heard me holler, and you saw me on the ground," she said thoughtfully. "What was I doing? Besides humping a little," she added, unable to keep from smiling.

The smile seemed to reassure the lad, at least for the moment. His cock was paining him. He wished he could get away, go home, and hide in his room to complete his masturbation. Not for pleasure. That was gone. Just to keep from having one hell of a stone-ache. But he felt better about Aunt Lola. She was more like her old self.

"You had some kind of a thing sort of, well, kind of wrapped around your arm. I think," he added miserably. "It looked like you were taking medicine from it. I didn't see it too good. But it was in your mouth, and you seemed to be sitting on the end of it, sort of. It was like a hot water bottle, with that long tube. You know what I mean, don't you, Aunt Lola?"

"Douche bag," Lola answered automatically. So he hadn't seen the big end of the thing, stuck deep in her flowing cunt. The angel! the sweet, hot, innocent baby!

Very softly, she said: "Timmie, God above couldn't make me tell on you. To Ellen-your mom, I mean-or to anyone else. Never!" She raised her hand as though taking an oath of silence, then crossed her heart, stroking across the warm, smooth tenderness of her titty. "Does that relieve your mind?"

He looked shocked, as though the release of fear and pressure had made him giddy. Mutely, he nodded, tears welling in his eyes.

"Come here and stand by me," she whispered. When he was close enough, she pressed her soft hand on the hard bulge in his pants. He closed his eyes, and she felt the hard pole of meat leap with a throb.

"You say you stopped what you were doing?" she asked. "When you heard me yell? You never did get off?"

He opened his eyes and looked at her, startled. Grown ups never talked this way. Or did they?

"What did you say, Aunt Lola?" he gasped. His face was pale, his dark eyes shining with an unbelieving glow.

"I just asked if you got that load out of your nuts," the blonde woman said. "If you got off. Or did you cum? Or shoot your wad, or whatever your generation calls it when you shoot off. A simple question." She was smiling, her inner muscles moving gently in their bath of cunt oil, and her richly formed body was moving slightly. "Did you?"

He acted stunned, but managed to answer. "No. I didn't shoot it."

She moved slightly away from him. "Get your clothes off, as quick as you can," she ordered, her voice husky with desire. "Quick! Boy, you mustn't carry that load around any longer! Hurry!"

She made an effort not to reach out and grab his beautiful young cock the very second it came into view. It was so hard, the head so slick with its engorgement of blood, the big veins standing out in the thick, soft skin that covered his hard rod.

The boy looked dubious, startled, but she kept her commanding eyes on him, so he got his pants off, then his shorts. He had not taken time to put on his shoes, he had been in such a panicky rush to petition for her silence, and he pulled his knit shirt off over his head, standing there strongly built, beautifully naked, a dark ring of softly curled pubic hair around his trembling prick. He was still uncertain, obviously horny to the point of recklessness, but obviously afraid of entrapment.

His "Aunt" Lola knew his trouble. She moved again, and got her smooth hand on his rigid tool. "Baby, she whispered, "I want to tell you something. Something true."

She looked at him pleadingly, and he looked down at the fleshly riches she was apparently offering him-tits better than any in his secret fuckbooks, a fat cunt, a real cunt, with real hair, more than Alice Bond would ever have, probably. And wide open. Pink lining all swollen with heat, dripping a clear juice.

His lips moved, silently, and she knew he was asking her for the "something true" she had promised.

"I'm just as scared as you are," she whispered, tears in her eyes. "Believe me. But I feel that if I don't help you, now, when you need it so bad, it'd be the worst thing I ever did. Besides," and now she smiled, "it's going to help me just as much. Come on. Get on the bed."

He was trembling as he pushed on the bed beside the lovely woman.

"Feel me," she whispered. "Do anything you want. Put your hand on my-what do you call it?" she asked. "You said fuck, a little while ago. I think that fuck's a lovely word. Do you want to call what I have down here," and she pointed to the split at the base of her belly, "do you want to call it a cunt? Or is that too strong for you?"

The boy was breathing hoarsely, now, his eyes fixed on her pussy, roving up to dwell on the lush beauty of her breasts. "Cunt," he said in a shaky voice. "Cunt. And tits." He was licking his lips.

"Oh, Geez, Aunt Lola, I, I-" his young voice, so manly before, broke to a soprano note, and big tears formed in his dark eyes and rolled down his cheeks, "I can't believe this is happening! OHHHHHH! OHHHHHH! I'M SORRY. AUNT LOLA! OHHHHHHHHH!"

As if in a dream, when movement is slower than a slow motion film, Lola saw the handsome young cock, so surprisingly manly in its dimensions, swell to what seemed like twice its size as the boy staggered toward her, his eyes closed against the excruciating joy of hard orgasm.

Wide eyed, she saw the little slit in the head seem to suck in for a split second, then open as a foreshortened jet of milky white jism shot out at her.

It came so hard that it seemed to sting her breasts, already sensitive to a point of beautiful pain, a fierce stream like a white rope, splattering across both her breasts, striking in her armpit.

She could not remember, afterward, just how it had happened, but she must have cried out in some strange, inarticulate shout of need and joy. She could remember hearing something, loud and clear. Her action in rolling on her side must have been automatic, too, for she was near enough to reach the stumbling boy, and her strong, warm hand went right around his slim hips, right on his hard, muscular buttocks.

She did not think she could move so fast, but she was sure of one fact-the second shot went into her mouth. Most of it, anyhow. That may have been because of her cry of concern as she felt the warm blast of pearly, boyish seed hitting her breasts.

She felt the hot, slick stream strike the back of her throat with the same force she had felt on her tenderized titty flesh, the glorious richness of taste that she had not known for more than a year.

And the next blazing spurt of his cock juice poured comfortably into her closed mouth, and the boy, glorying in this marvelous adventure-even if they kill me for it, his mind registered silently-felt his "Aunt Lola" swallow as his crazily sensitized cockhead went deep into her throat. Felt the slickness of powerful muscles close on his dick and stroke it with ten thousand times the pleasure of his spit-slicked fingers.

He could feel a deep, crawling, burning pleasure in his nuts, all along his throbbing fuck stick, in the dark of his guts where his fuck system had both its supply and its triggering nerves. And, as he fell across the smooth, firm body of this beautifully naked woman he had known and loved all his life, both his hands went out instinctively to brace him and slow his fall.

His left hand went across her, on to the bed. But his right hand, not aimed, acting purely in reflex, went right between Lola's legs, right between her smooth, solid thighs, and into the drooly, joyfully hurting cunt that was so gratefully ready for any touch, any rub or friction to release the joy-taut nerves that silently screamed for their rightful explosion.

As she swallowed the rich protein salvos that squirted from young Timmie's wildly throbbing cock, the woman felt the thrill rise in her vagina, in the writhing dark around her womb. There was the wildly joyful bursting of pleasure in her clitoris, the response of surface nerves in the reddened inner lips of her pussy. All these pangs of love fulfilled raced and exploded in her cuntal area, making the taste and feel of the cock in her sucking mouth an even greater delight, an even more satisfying surge into the reality of sex.

She felt it all, the pressure of the strong young body, mashing her big, tingling breasts flat, the thrust of his cum-spurting dick in her loving throat and against her broad, slick tongue, and especially the long, delicate fingers deep in her cunt, instinctively prodding, pressing, rubbing on every sex-starved nerve in her pussy.

It seemed to last and last, for both of them. And yet it seemed to end all too soon.

As the semen-hungry woman continued to suck on a prick totally emptied of fuck juice, the tender nerves, too sensitive for such powerful love, forced the boy to withdraw his loins from the loving face of the woman he called Aunt Lola. This took the pressure off her painfully pleasured breasts, which flopped and rolled on her ribs. And naturally, as the boy pushed himself up, his hand came away from the juicy, warm cunt, which bumped up just once in a mute plea.

The mother heart of Lola Todd turned a flip in her warm bosom. She knew that this had to be a shock to the boy. He would need love and support after such a sexual shock. She acted unconsciously.

Bouncing to the middle of the bed, she held out her arms to the sex-dazed boy, tears of joy rolling down her soft cheeks, and said in a choked voice: "Come to Aunt Lola, my sweet little baby!"

In his boyish heart and mind, raised to the nth power of joy and wonder at this unbelievable happening-a blow job from a grown up lady, fucking his oldest friend in the head, shooting his wad into the craving throat of a woman he loved-a gut twisting quake of happiness was almost dampened by a sudden inrush of mistrust and fear.

He had been trapped by his mother so many times, letting her coax him into admissions of human reaction, and being cruelly punished for it, afterwards. Nothing like this, of course. Not any real sex. Only the admission, for example, that he had seen her naked, not trying to peep, just a quick and accidental flash as his mother had stepped from her bedroom, headed for the bath. It was a shock, first because he hadn't thought his mother was at home, and second, because there had been a man from the telephone company only a little while before, not in any regular uniform, just a laughing guy who said he was there to check on what he called "flash static-ohmers" that were interfering with all the phones in the neighborhood.

The fellow had said to Tim that he had checked the other rooms, and now wanted to check the bedroom, and would Tim go out and tap on the wall if he heard the telephone inspector tap on the wall.

When Tim hadn't heard anything after twenty minutes, he came back in, called: "Hey, telephone man!" and, when he got no answer, concluded that the inspector had finished and left.

And it was shortly after that, after Tim had rummaged around in the refrigerator for a snack, that he had almost dropped dead as his mother came out of her room. His dad's room, too, of course. And he thought he had dodged back quick enough so mom didn't see him. But man, had he seen her! Everything. Absolutely everything she had. And he still felt like a criminal wretch from time to time, thinking about that quick sight of his mother's lush charms. God Almighty! Such tits!

And such a cute, bouncy, curvy little body. Mom was hardly any bigger than Sheri Olson, who lived across Ocean Avenue from his house, and who loved to come and play with him and little Alice Bond.

He had stood in the shadow of the hall door, watching his mom hurry to the bathroom, holding her hand over her twat like she was afraid she'd spill something.

The young lad was warm from the embrace of his sweet and tender neighbor, but he had some old fears. After his mom had asked him, oh, so pleasantly-and sneakily-if she had frightened him when he saw her, he hadn't been smart enough to lie. So he, thinking to reassure a concerned parent, said: "Oh, no, mom. I just didn't know you were home, I thought you were working for Mrs. Price that day." And man, had the shit ever hit the fan!

She had slapped him half silly, until he was blinded by tears, said he was a snoop and a pervert, a Peeping Tom who wanted to look on his mother's private parts, which should be sacred to a boy. But oh, no, his mom had said, he was probably getting warts in his hands from "pulling his pud," as she called it, thinking of his poor mother's sacred places. And she had said: "I just don't know, Timothy. I don't know what to do. If I tell your father about this, why, gracious Peter, I think he'd whale the life out of you!"

That was one terrible remembrance he'd had. And mom, at least, hadn't told dad about it, which was certainly queer. If it meant the old man having an excuse to whip his ass black and blue, she usually told him. And watched, wiggling and panting, while dad whipped him.

But the woman he had always called Aunt Lola was kissing him, and stroking his back, and reaching under him with one hand to play with his cock, and he suddenly relaxed and began to cry. And, when Aunt Lola asked: "What's the matter, Timmie? We haven't done anything wrong," he clung to her and whispered raggedly, between sobs: "You really meant it? You're not going to tell on me?"

And he felt most of his fears swept away in a clean rush of love as she took his hand and put it-can you imagine? A woman like Aunt Lola?-right on her cunt! Yes, sir! And said: "Oh, Timmie, that just feels so scrumptious! Just rub me there, like you did when I had your wonderful big old peter in my mouth!"

It was enough to make a guy forget all his troubles, except that Tim had so many of them. So many fears, so many reasons to be wary of grown ups, so many people who might tell something about him to his folks. Or to the cops.

But Aunt Lola was so warm and soft, her titties so big and soft, with such large, hard nipples. And she had asked him to wiggle his fingers in her cunt.

He was getting a hard-on, and he didn't know whether to be proud or scared. It was sort of against Aunt Lola's belly, or the side of it, and she must feel it. So he ducked his head and said: "Listen, Aunt Lola, don't be mad at me, but this old thing," and he pulled his juice-laden fingers out of her warmly moving cunt to gesture in the direction of his dick, "is doing something bad again. Honest, I can't help it! Maybe I'd better get dressed and go home."

The blonde woman rolled toward him with a hungry fire of love burning throughout her body. Her cunt lips felt twice as big as usual. That mechanical fuck machine, even if it was the very best of its kind in the world, was just nothing to a real live prick, a penis made of flesh and skin and erectile tissue and nerves that danced on a high wire of delight as the thick cream jetted out of a man's balls.

"Oh, baby," she said fiercely, "you mustn't get dressed. And you don't have to leave until you want to! Oh, God, Timmie, I never knew a living soul could be so sweet! Is your mom working for Mrs. Price today? Or do you feel safe out in your little hidey-hole in the ditch? Boy, don't take this lovely, wonderful peter away from me!" And she jerked softly and lovingly on his hardening cock. It felt so good, so much softer and warmer than his own hard hands, no matter how much spit he let drop on his cockhead.

Being only a kid, he didn't know what to say, so he giggled and rubbed his face on each of Aunt Lola's big breasts, and she moved up and down and groaned, holding his face pressed real hard into one of the soft, smoothly warm pillows. And she put a tender hand on his neck and moved the nipple of one tit up to his mouth with her other hand, and said in a low, hoarse voice: "Suck on it, baby! Suck on it just as hard as you can! Way down deep. OHHHHHH!" and she screamed and thrashed on the bed, scaring the young boy. "That's so good, darling! Ohhhhhh! Suck Aunt Lola's big old titty again, like a sweet boy! Ohhhhhh! That's it!"

She held his head cradled in her arms, and he realized that there is a direct wire from a woman's breasts to her crotch, for he could feel the slick, warm juice pouring out of the woman's cunt. Her titties were bigger than his mom's, and bigger than Sheri Olson's. He wasn't, sure whether she had more cunt hair than mom, or than Sheri. Mostly because their cunt hair was so dark and hers was blonde. Maybe it looked like they had more. Strangely, he felt a deep desire to bury his face in that mass of tawny curls that so softly covered Lola's big, slickly wet split.

In a dreamy way, he let the nipple escape his mouth, turned his face sideways, and asked, from an unexpected reservoir of bold curiosity: "Was it an accident that you sucked my dick? Was it because I was standing right by your face? Geez, Aunt Lola, it sure scared me when I started to cum all over you." He blushed very red, and Lola squeezed him until his ribs creaked. "Did you like it?" she asked. "That's the important question. When you're in that ditch, talking to your secret girl friend, and I still think it's Alice Bond, and she laughed warmly, "do you imagine you're, uh, fucking them, or that they're sucking your sweet peter? Tell me."

He was silent for so long that Lola knew something was wrong, and she shook the boy gently.

"Timmie," she said, "believe me, all I want to do is to help you. You call me Aunt Lola, and I couldn't love you more if I were really your blood kin. Your folks used to be very close to me and your Uncle Mike. But you can remember that, can't you? It wasn't our doing when we became-well, not so friendly any more."

She had a quick flash of the intense, bubbling, try-any thing friendship they'd known at one time. Not just with the Sheltons, but with the Ranees and the Clays. What wild good times! But the Clays had moved down to San Diego, and the Ranees had been transferred back to Texas. And the Sheltons, for God's sake, had fallen into some kind of religious fanaticism. But Lola remembered, with a sudden shiver of lust, that all of them had been willing to try anything once. And Ellen and I would try anything tivice, she thought. Like the time all of them had decided that the ladies should play Lesbian, and suck each other's juicy, highly aromatic, soft-lipped cunts. And for a long time, she and Ellen had had little private matinees of cunt-licking, they had loved it so much.

"I know you want to help me, Aunt Lola," Timmie whispered, shaking the sex-hungry woman out of her reverie. "But so many bad things have happened to me. And I keep thinking: this can't be true. You're only trying to trap me. To turn me over to my dad. To beat on."

She could tell that there tears in his voice, and she sat up so suddenly that she tumbled him off her. That cock! She'd have it up her cunt as soon as she got this out of her system.

"I acted wrong, Timmie," she said, her own tears starting. "I wanted you so. Wanted your sweet, big, manly cock. Wanted to feel it churning in my warm pussy, to feel your rich, creamy jism shooting down my throat. And I was afraid you'd turn me down, and tell on me! That's why I acted like I did. Like accusing you of having something to do with little Alice Bond. That was wrong!"

He lay close to her, fondling her breast. Something in what she had said made him giggle. "I said I didn't fuck her, Aunt Lola," he answered. "But she's so crazy to learn about sex that I let her suck me. Just a little!" he cried, as Lola tried to sit up again. "Not to cum in her mouth! We'd both be scared of that. Couldn't she have a baby if I let it go in her mouth?"

Lust swept the woman's firm, lush body. She knew the little Bond girl, small for her age, which was eleven, with an innocent, elfin face, big blue eyes, blonde hair almost white from the sun's bleaching. And hardly any titties at all. Just little bumps showing in her knit shirts. That little girl, sucking a boy's cock? Marvelous! Just the thought of it made the fire in her cunt scorch every nerve, made her cunt juice flood out of her relaxed but swollen cunt lips.

"No, there's no danger, Timmie," Lola smiled, rumpling the boy's dark, sweated hair. "Any more than you could give her babies by sucking on her sweet little pussy." Her fevered mind pictured this action, also, and she had a new heat, the voyeour's lust. But there was something she wanted to know. Something that Timmie had said that she wanted to confirm. "Did you say your dad beats you?" she asked, her voice oddly shaky.

As best he could, in his position, the boy shrugged. "When I've committed a sin," he said. "Like seeing my mom with no clothes on. When the telephone guy was there." He played in the soft, slick warmth of her pussy, loving the rich, hotly gagging smell of it. Ten times better than either Sheri Olson or Alice Bond. He was surprised when the woman pushed at him, telling him to lie on his belly.

She looked at old scars on his slim but muscular back, felt the ridges, slight as they were, from welts that had been delivered in months past.

Her heart and mind flared in wild anger, but she felt a sense of guilt lifted from her. If this was the way religion soured people-and then she remembered her own folks. As bad as Tim's. Maybe worse.

All that she had done and thought for the past hour coagulated in her mind-her heat and the dildo, the sight of Timmie jerking off, the wildness of her passion, the bright, stained-glass mental images of her uncle and how he had helped her. The rest, the glorious feel and taste of the young boy's cock in her mouth and the richness of his seed, the pleasures of his body and hers, blended in, too. And all the rest, the confidences of the boy, the thought of his sex play with the little Bond kid, the beatings. The beatings? Oh, God, how well she knew the pain and humiliation of adult cruelty!

She had his hard cock again, holding it, kissing it, while her eyes filled again with tears.

"Do you want me now, Timmie?" she asked. "Have you ever fucked? Ever really had your beautiful peter in a girl's cunt, or a lady's? Please, baby, let me give it to you! Let me take your lovely cock into me, and squirt your sweet cream into Aunt Lola!" If I can only help him as I want to, she thought. Oh, God, thank you for this chance!

And, as the boy's happy face shown above hers, she took his hard young dick in her hand, guiding it into the grateful cunt which she held up to meet his thrust.