Chapter 8

She was tired; not too sleepy, just pleasantly lazy, and she lay on the chaise lounge behind the decorative hedge in Elena's backyard, letting her hair dry in the late afternoon sun. Charlotte was quiet, stretching from time to time like a well fed cat, and she thought the simile was apt. She was a pussy, and she had sipped cream.

The sunshine was warm, and the scent of mown lawn sweet. In shorts and halter, she baked luxuriously, and thought that in the desert states, she'd take all the time she needed to bake into a deep tan. A suntan went well with her black hair and the surprise of her blue eyes. Black Irish, they said, and she always remembered the legend of the sailors shipwrecked when the Spanish Armada went down, those swarthy and lusty men who were supposed to have interbred with the fair-haired, blue eyed Gaelic women to produce the Black Irish.

She was dozing when she heard the low rumble of voices on the other side of the hedge. Her eyelids fluttered against her cheek, but she was sun-warmed and drowsy, and just lay comfortably on the lounge chair, not eavesdropping, but unable not to hear the talk.

Blair's voice; she'd know it anywhere, and it said, "Yeah, I guess we can talk about it. I mean, we're good friends and all, and we're intelligent enough not to get uptight about anything, right?"

Duncan's voice, then; her son said, "Right, man. We have to be cool, you and I. Everything has to stay cool for everybody. Man-if one of us screwed up this party, he'd have to be out of his tree. We never had it so good."

Blair agreed. 'You know it. But it's going to get better all the time, soon as we loosen up. It has to be done easy, one thing at a time, but when we're really grooving together, it has to be the greatest."

They were quiet for a few seconds, and Charlotte came more alert, wondering if she should make her presence known.

Then Duncan said, "Blair-how is it with her?"

"You mean is she good? Man, yes; your mother is fine. She's beautiful when she's all naked, and when she gets going, it's like she's on fire. You've been kind of thinking about her, yourself?"

"Yeah; since I was maybe thirteen years old. You know how it is, how you catch a peep of her coming out of the bathroom, with the robe open just a little, and you can see just a flash of soft thigh. Or when she leans over and brushes your arm with one of those great tits; or when you can see the fine her panties make across her tail as she walks. Man, oh man; I've been going crazy over her for a long time. I bet you know what I mean."

Blair said, "I sure do. My mother is a doll, too. Small and cute and sexy all the time. I mean day in and day out, she's sexy. She's always been careless about her robes, too, and I used to get a good peep at her tits, nipples and all. Once when I was about fourteen, I saw her whole snatch, and the sight of that almost ran me ape. But in a way, it was rougher on me than on you."

"How do you mean?" Duncan asked, and Charlotte stiffened on the couch at the vibration, the husky eagerness in her son's voice.

"Well-your mother never balled around. But Elena, man! She went out with this guy and that one, and sometimes she'd even go out with my stepfather-her last husband. In between her other lovers, I mean. He knew she was making it with these other dates, but he was always hot for her, anyway. Then they'd have a fight and mother would be out with a new guy."

Duncan said, "What's so tough about that?"

"Look, Dune-you were hot to get into your mom's pants, right? Only you were still cherry and scared shitless to even touch her tit. And as long as she was all holy-like, all upright and not doing anything wrong, she was untouchable-not only for you, but for everybody else, so that wasn't bad. But me, man-me; look, I came in the back door one night because I had to push my bike home when I had a flat. I guess I came in quiet, because when I got to the end of the hall there by the living room, I saw them. I saw my mother and this tall guy, and he had her bare-assed on the couch, putting the prick to her."

"Wow," Duncan breathed. "That must have shaken you up, man."

"Believe it. I stood there not able to move, and I watched this guy lay it in and out of her cunt. I got a real good view of the action, and he had her rolled up on her shoulders, feeding this long rod into her while she wiggled her tail and threw her legs around him, and moaned and all that shit. I was losing my mind, Dune; I was going right out of my head. I stood there and stared bug-eyed at my mother fucking this guy I never saw before. I stared right into that pussy I'd been craving, and saw this thick cock juicing around in it. And you know what?"

"What, man?" Duncan asked.

"I didn't hate her, man. I didn't even hate him. But I was jealous of the son of a bitch. I wanted to run out there and pull him out from between her smooth legs and jump in there myself, so I could get some of that fabulous golden cunt. Of course, all I did was get a big hard-on, and wait until they were folded over on each other after they came. Then I sneaked up to my room and jacked off."

"That was rough," Duncan agreed, and Charlotte could hear the understanding in his voice. Now she had waited too long, and couldn't let them know she was there, listening. She slid down lower on the couch and tried to make herself very small.

Duncan went on, "I don't know how you took it, man. I'd have cut out, run away from home or something. I mean, it's bad enough to have a thing for your own mother, but to see somebody else put it to her ... "

"Tell me," Blair said. "How do you think Elena is, as a lay? I know she's the only chick you ever balled, but you ought to know by now if she's really a hot screw or not."

"Far out," Duncan said. "I'm glad I never laid some kid first. I mean, your mother goes all out, and she's so pretty, all that golden hair and skin, and she does all those things..."

"What things?" Blair cut in.

"Man, I don't know if I ought to talk about . .

"Nothing between us, remember? Everything up front, Dune?"

"Okay; all right. Well, she showed me how to make it straight, on top of her. Then she mounted me, and then she took it dog fashion. I-she's been talking about me putting it up her-her ass, but we haven't gotten around to that yet."

Blair's voice was shaky. "Does she-go down on you, man?"

"Well, yeah. But it's okay, Blair-I swear, I think it's fine, not dirty or anything. And I do it to her, too. She showed me where the clit is and how to eat her, and-I like it fine."

Blair was silent, and Charlotte's heart beat madly to keep time with the frantic pulsing in het throat. Would Blair-could he-tell her son all the things they had done together? She wanted to vanish, to somehow melt and run down between the cracks in the flagstone walk that curved across the lawn of Elena's backyard.

"How about mom? My mother? Does she do everything?"

"So far, Dune. She's not like Elena, you know. I think my old lady was born fucking, but your mother is kind of uptight about sex. Your dad was the only guy she ever screwed, before me. And he must have been a real square, because she acts as if she never really made it. I know she never had anybody go down on her, and let me tell you, man-that fluffy black pussy is sweet as honey. When she stopped fighting it, I thought she was going to shove my whole head up her cunt."

Charlotte shrank within herself, and the sun had suddenly turned chill. She was ashamed and afraid, and now she wanted a drink very badly.

There was a catch in her son's voice as he asked, "How about her blowing you? Did she-does she do that, man?"

"Today, for the first time," Blair said. "I had to cram it in her mouth at the start, but then she began to swing and gave some real fine head. We swung over into the sixty-nine and got with it good. We were just lying there, getting our breath back when you guys came home."

"Yeah; I caught a glimpse of her flying up the stairs, but I pretended I hadn't seen anything. I got a good look at her naked ass, though. She's beautiful."

"Lush and full," Blair said. "Ripe like a pretty peach gets, all juicy and sweet. I have an idea, Dune."

"Anything you say, man."

Charlotte held her breath, waiting to hear what they had in mind, but they must have moved away across the patio. All she could hear was the buzz of their voices, and she was afraid to sit up and stare after them.

It was terrible. Practically everything she had feared from the beginning of this-this illicit relationship, this son-swapping affair, was coming to pass. Duncan knew; he knew that she had allowed his friend to-to go down on her, to give her oral gratification. Her son knew that his mother had gone down on his best friend, that his mother hadn't balked at taking Blair's penis into her mouth and sucking it until the boy came. Not only that, but she hadn't even tried to spit out the hot, sticky semen that ejaculated into her throat. Instead, she had devoured it like the immoral bitch that she was turning into.

After awhile, she sat up, her skin cold and the shadows falling across her soul as well as the garden. There wasn't much she could salvage from this sordid chain of events, but she was certainly going to try. All day, she'd been so peaceful that she hadn't needed the prop of alcohol, but she needed it now. And they needn't try to great her into some other strange, twisted liaison. She was going to tie one on, and then Charlotte Mason was going to take herself to bed-alone.

Walking slowly through the patio, she thought over the dialog she had overheard. Blair didn't even try to keep a secret, and Duncan-her son, by his own admission, had gone into the sensual life with an utter abandon. Really, she thought; Elena should have at least held off from all the deviations, instead of plunging Duncan right into them.

And Duncan himself; the boy had admitted other things-like peeping into her robe, like feeling her breast when she so accidentally brushed it against him, like eyeing the line of her panties and-and seriously thinking about doing it to his own mother. That was so insane that it might be laughable, if she didn't remember the hungry catch in his young voice when he talked about her.

The poor boy, in so much of a strain for so long-almost as much pressure on him as there had been on her, over the years. At least, he had been a virgin, and didn't actually know the magnificent release of sex. Charlotte was certain that she hadn't thought of her son in anything like the way he had been thinking about her. Oh, she had admired his youthful slimness, the blooming maleness of him, and she'd been proud of his good looks, as any mother would be.

Charlotte climbed the steps to the back porch of the house and hesitated, with her hand upon the door knob. She had noticed Duncan's flat belly and the way his jeans snugged his crotch, too. But she had never, never carried a look, a word, or even a thought beyond that. Incest was a shocking word. It implied everything dark and evil, and it frightened her merely to form the word in her head.

Adultery, living in sin, even statutory rape-these words didn't have the sharp edge to them that incest carried. If she had ever thought of that before now, it was as something a drunken father might do to his daughter, if the father was stoned, smashed, and the girl was a sexy little bitch who had probably brought the act upon herself.

But a mother and her own, natural son? Charlotte shuddered, and pushed back the heat that swept cunningly across her breasts. Duncan said he had caught a glimpse of her as she ran up the stairs earlier that day; he said her naked ass was beautiful.

She had been a quiet, faithful mother to her sod and daughter. There was money enough, and she hadn't denied them anything they could afford, Was it denial, to unconsciously tantalize her sexually awakening son, by flaunting her body before him, by considering him only a child, when in reality he had been a male animal?

No; Charlotte shook her head to clear it, and went into the kitchen. Nobody there; the boys had gone somewhere else to talk over all the details of their mother's seductions, to exchange notes on who did what to whom. Jan and Elena? Gone shopping for groceries, she remembered.

Going through to the bar, Charlotte poured herself a big one on the rocks. She drank it down and poured another double jolt of bourbon. Aimlessly, she wandered about the room, sidestepping the particular spot on the rug where she and Blair Chapman had exchanged oral love. She touched buttons on the stereo, and that sexy music came thumping out to fill the room.

Harassed, Charlotte sipped her drink, sipped some more and frowned at the empty rattle of ice cubes. Blair should have been a gentleman, and not said anything. She hadn't gone to his mother with a description of the way he screwed, or how he licked into her vagina. Splashing more liquor over the ice, Charlotte considered that Elena had acted as if she was curious to know exactly that; curious, but only hinting around and not being up front about it.

Up front. She was even getting to talk and think like a juvenile. Although lord knows those boys couldn't truly to considered juveniles, or even kids in the usual sense. They could screw mature women into frenzies, turn them on so that they went out of their heads with the tremendous release of sex.

Was that any more than a man could do? Less, Charlotte thought, recalling the timid, hurried efforts of her husband. It was a good thing that her genes were dominant in her children, else Duncan and Jan would have turned out to be the same kind of bloodless, guilty loser their father was.

She was surprised that her glass was empty, and she swayed a little to the beat of the sensuous music. They'd been surprised, too-all shook up that a middle-aged lady type could grind and shake it with the best of them. She could dance their own land of dances, and as well as they could; better, maybe, since she had more equipment.

Moving around the room, she bumped it some, and wiggled it some, and giggled at the way her tits bounced in the shaky confinement of the halter. For a minute, she considered taking it off and letting her nipples jiggle in the wind, but she was still too sober for that.

But Duncan said she had a beautiful ass, and that the touch of her tit drove him crazy. And Blair said he'd always had a hard-on for his mother, and it was getting so screwed up that Charlotte didn't know which goddamn end was up.

"Bottoms up," she announced to the empty room, to the primitive music. "Bottoms up, and if you've got a beautiful bottom, up it."

She took a full glass up the stairs with her, not caring if Elena ever got back and cooked dinner. Charlotte wasn't hungry now; she was woozy and mixed up and a little sleepy. But she paused at the head of the stairs and blinked owlishly at the wall while deciding that she wouldn't punish Blair after all. Not right away, that is. When he came slipping into her bed that night, after little Jan was asleep and Duncan was doing whatever the hell Elena was leading him into, then she'd wake up and give Blair some loving.