Chapter 9

Tim was used to cajoling his mother and getting her out of bad moods. He knew she liked him to be a little bit fresh, to treat her not just as a floor-scrubber and cookie-baker but as a woman. Like many mothers and sons, a mild flirtation had developed between them long before any real physical involvement was ever dreamed of. There was nothing wrong in it, it was a way of getting along, of relating to each other.

Helen and Sally could be all female together, deep in a sewing project or exchanging glances and smiles over the foolishness of males. The flirtation was not meant to be any more than that; it was a way of giving Tim space to grow, of accepting him as a separate person, and a pleasing one.

And that's where it would have stayed, Helen thought dismally, if their lives had gone differently. She didn't like to admit it, but all the changes had happened as a result of the parties where they practiced sexual freedom.

Item number one in her moral breakdown was her new awareness of sexuality. She'd never so much as glanced at a male crotch before in her life, but now she had a habit of gauging everyone's sexual possibilities on the same level as personalities and intelligence.

Number two, she'd become accustomed to a large measure of sensuality, and it was habit-forming.

Three, she learned she could act out her fantasies, and it seemed perfectly natural to do so.

Oh, hell, she thought, this wasn't helping her in her little talk with Tim. The thoughts about herself which flashed through her mind were not the kind which could mean much to her son. At the moment, lying snuggled into a sand dune, half undressed, the warmth of his body radiating out to her all-too-willing flesh, she was hardly in a position to reason with him.

There was only one thing left for her to use and it was that oldest of feminine weapons: tears. The way she felt, emotionally unstrung, it was all too easy to let the salty drops run down her cheeks.

"Please, Tim, help me be strong," she pleaded. "Don't let me have to live with the thought that I seduced my own son."

"It isn't like that, Mom."

"Please, Tim, I'm begging you. My conscience will never give me peace again!"

"Bullshit!"

She was so surprised, the tears dried instantly and her coquettish look disappeared. She stared at him in astonishment. He wouldn't, couldn't talk to her this way!

Tim was mildly surprised himself. And it wasn't just the insistent throbbing of his half hard cock, nor the nearness of her enticing womanly body. It was just simply that... well, she was talking a lot of bullshit! He knew she was faking, and for the first time, he wasn't going to let her get away with it. Maybe his experiences with his sister had given him a new, more adult viewpoint, he didn't know.

He stood and took off his jeans. "Look at that, Mom, look at what you do to me!" His slim boyish cock jerked upward as he spoke, growing longer and fatter. The foreskin was drawn back over the red nut, which glistened with cream.

She couldn't help herself, not after that. His darling cock drew her like a magnet. Her hands clasped its warm living flesh and pumped, a thumb running lightly over the moist head. She went limp as he helped her take off the rest of her clothes, and pushed her back on the sand. A wild emotion filled her mind, a dark dangerous yearning.

She fell back against the dune while he bent over her, his smooth forehead knitted into a frown of concentration. He carefully fitted his cockhead into the moist folds of her labia, and then with an ecstatic sigh, fell forward on her. His hard young chest felt firm and thrilling against her soft billowy knockers. His hips ground into her, as his fat young cock glided into her swollen, slick cunt. Oh, God, if felt good, so good!

"Awwwww, Mom," he panted. His head was spinning with pleasure from the steamy pulpy womb closing around his stiff rod. He felt more manly than ever because he'd faced her and won, and that was half the pleasure.

Helen let the dark thought uncoil in her mind. It was true, as she'd expected. She could feel the pressure on her clit, where his firm pelvic bones pressed. And if she turned on her side, or got on top of him, she'd get more enjoyment, more that wonderful feeling of being crammed full of hot male meat. But there was another way, too, and she let herself realize only what she wanted to know: as it was, she could barely feel his dick in her cunt.

He lunged in and out easily-no wonder, she thought! Her capacious vagina could hold two immature pricks like this, with no strain! That was okay, let him get his penis thoroughly coated in her juices, thoroughly hot and involved in his boyish fucking.

"Wait a minute, Tim," she gasped, "What now?" He still suspected her of trickery.

"There's a better way. Let me up, honey, just for a minute. Honest, I'm not fooling you!" Breathing heavily, she turned on her hands and knees, presenting her plump white ass to him. "Get in me from behind now, honey. Hurry!"

This didn't look any better to Tim than it had with Sally, less, in fact, because there was a lot more of his mother to get around than his skinny little sister. But he crouched over her, willing to try. As he'd expected, his cock didn't come near to reaching her swampy hole! He fumbled around, spreading the cheeks of her ass but he still couldn't make it.

Helen was so impatient, she could hardly stand it. But suddenly she realized his problem. It was her fault, she hadn't really explained, partly because she hated to put it in words; she simply wanted it to happen!

"No, no, honey, put it in here!" She reached back and spread her ass cheeks again, this time running her own finger down the crease until it landed on the puckered brown hole of her anus.

Tim was stunned. His erection began to wilt. Sure, he remembered his mother putting her finger up his asshole, but his dick? He couldn't believe he was hearing right.

"Huh, Mom? I don't get it."

"Damn it! Put it in my ass, baby! Fuck me in the asshole!"

He stroked his wet prick through the crease until it got full and hard again, thinking how much he had yet to learn. Who would have dreamed it? And was that what the naked, middle-aged couple were doing on the floor of the family room? He still had his doubts but he was willing to give it a try.

Helen was wild with frustrated lust. Once she'd decided to give in to her perverse impulses, she just couldn't wait! She felt something bump at her asshole; if only she could open it wide as she could her cunt! But she did the best she could, relaxing the tight ring of muscle until the plump knob penetrated half an inch. She groaned as she felt the hot tight engorgement, and bucked back up against him.

"All the way, Timmy, all the way," she moaned.

Tim's fears and doubts dropped away the moment he felt the hot meat closing around his stiff dick. He grabbed her by the hips and bored in enthusiastically, finding it almost as easy to penetrate as his sister's vagina. And what a weird, wonderful feeling it was! His slim hips pumped frantically, as he worked his cock against the pulpy hot walls. It gripped him like a hand but no fist could ever be that steamily grasping and enclosing!

"Hey, Mom, hey," he said gleefully. "This is something else! Holy shit, it feels like it's sizzling!"

"Yeah, yeah, fuck me harder," she chanted. "Put it up my ass, all the way, great, good, I love it! Your sweet prick deep in my bunghole, keep it up, fuck me harder! Hammer it in!" She didn't really know what she was saying but burbled on mindlessly, moving her hips at blinding speed, the mounting pleasure involving all her senses.

Tim was dizzily thrilled, overcome not only by the sensuous pleasure of pounding into her backside, but by the perversity and novelty of it all. Leaning into her cushiony buttocks, he marveled at what he was learning. "Thought I knew it all," he panted as he speeded up the tempo.

His mother was nearly going crazy with pleasure, and her rapid back-bounce and skillful switching of her hips from side to side filled him with amazement. To think he was going to fuck her! He'd thought he was quite the man, until the authority of her sexual knowledge and ability brought him back to size. He loved the way she moaned, loved the lewd babble coming from her rosy lips, loved the way she bucked under him to get his cock deeper and deeper into her tight sheath.

"Gosh, Mom, you really like it!" He panted harder. "Really-like-to-fuck!"

"Yes yesyesyes," she wailed. "Love to fuck, oh yessss!"

He grabbed big handfuls of her ass, like firm, white marshmallows, he thought. He slammed in as hard and fast as he could, knowing it couldn't be hard enough or fast enough for her. It was like thinking you were a pretty good swimmer, and then racing against an Olympic contestant!

"Aaaaggggghhhhhh! Awwwwww!" She began to shake and yell, as a violent orgasm swept through her.

Tim felt as if his cock was caught in a velvet-lined mixing machine! Every little twitch of her plump buttocks shot right through him, tingling clear down to his toes. Her muscles screwed tightly around his still stiff penis and then relaxed, in a wild spasm of climax.

"Wanna stop?" he panted as she slowed.

"NO! NOOO!!!" she screamed. "Fuck harder!"

And he did, beating in like a piledriver until, his heart in his throat, he knew he'd reached the top. His intense muscular tension gave way as if he were falling off a cliff, mindlessly roaring down hill in a heart-wrenching cum.

"Now, now," he whispered, and then let go with a shout. "NOW-OWWWWWW! YIIIIIPPPPPEEEEESSSSS!" Her convulsing anal walls spasmed again while his hot semen splattered deep in her anus.

His last frantic lunge sent her sprawling in the sand, where she lay almost unconscious from the totality of her pleasure. He sprawled on top of her pneumatic body, feeling drained and dry-mouthed while his heart charged on like a freight train running down hill.

"Oh Mom, I can't even tell you," Tim said gratefully when he could talk again. He brushed grains of sand from her flushed face, and gently lifted her hair back. 'That was just so fucking fantastic!"

The tears in his mother's eyes this time were real, he knew. He felt the same way; all his circuits were overloaded and then gave way with an electrical display like the Fourth of July. Maybe that wasn't a good simile, he thought, but it was the best he could do to describe the incredible moments.

Helen rolled over with a sigh. "It's really cold now," she said. "And late. We'd better get back to the camper."

Without comment, she stuffed the rest of Sally's clothes in her pockets. She was much too tired to think about that, but it was a little nagging problem in the back of her mind.

They climbed the step into the camper, Helen first. They'd seen the light on inside, and assumed Max and Sally had come in out of the cold.

Helen was stiff and nervous. When Max said, "Where have you been?" she wouldn't know what to answer. But he didn't ask any questions. He was slumped on a bunk, looking sleepy. Sally sat at the dinette, wearing her hooded sweat shirt.

"Brought you back a present," Max smiled, pouring her a drink out of an unfamiliar bottle. "It's a liqueur made out of a local plant. They don't ship it out; this is the only place you'll ever have it."

She sipped and wrinkled her nose. "Interesting, isn't it?"

"Ummmhmmm. The plant only grows on Baja. By the way, hon, did you know about those funy-looMng cactuses? the ones that looked like they were growing upside down. They're called cirios or Boojum trees, and the one stretch of Baja is the only place in the world they've ever been found. There's over one hundred varieties of cactus here, and ..."

She stared at him. It wasn't like Max to babble on. She let his words pass in one ear and out the other while she considered various answers.

Somehow, he knew what she'd been up to with Tim. He didn't want to know, didn't want to handle the situation; was hoping she wouldn't force him to acknowledge it. Make sense? Sort of, she conceded, but not wholly.

How about this, then? He was getting it on with Rosalia in town, and had a guilty conscience. ...

"... expect to find oil here, maybe gold and silver, other metals. Since Mexico made Baja into a state, they hope ..."

Helen gulped her drink. The flavor was unlike anything she'd ever tasted, but very agreeable. She listened to Max, tuning in just long enough to make sure he was still at it. Yes, he'd gotten onto the history now. Missions and all that, Father Kino, was it? Never mind.

Something nudged delicately at her mind. The taste of the Damiana. The scent of a lemon room spray, with the aerosol can sitting on the table next to Sally's elbow. But it was neither of those, it was a heavy familiar scent that cloyed at her nostrils. Reminded her of the sex-swapping parties. She raised her head and looked around blankly. If she'd stopped to think about it, she'd never had done it. But she wasn't considering the implications, only the solving of a puzzle. Her wild lovemaking with Tim must have addled her senses, because she moved without thinking.

Helen leaned toward her husband, nostrils flaring, eyes widening. She sniffed audibly. Then she took a step toward the dinette table. Max stopped talking and his face turned red as she inhaled deeply.

"What's the matter, Helen? What are you doing?" he asked anxiously.

"I don't know." she looked around, still puzzled. "It sure as hell smells like-" She stopped, and blushed as red as Max. "I don't know," she mumbled. "Just my imagination, I guess."

Sally and Tim exchanged a quick glance and the shadow of a smile, but their parents looked down, away from each other. Two guilty consciences and two bursting secrets filled the room.