Chapter 2
Three days later Norma Dunham placed the last of the dinner dishes in the automatic dishwasher, then went into the living room and sat down.
Her son lay on his stomach on the floor staring up at the big, built-in color television screen. He wore his bathrobe and he was propped up on his elbows with his chin in his hands. Norma could tell he wore only undershorts beneath his robe by the distinct cleft of his buttocks through the lightweight material. For some reason he detested pajamas. He was watching a western.
Norma stared at Roger's buttocks and remembered it thrusting so savagely between the legs of young Sheila. "You haven't been seeing much of that rattle-brained Sheila who was here the other day, have you?" she asked.
"No," Roger said. "Just at school. I don't see what you have against her. You haven't even met her. How can you be so critical?"
"I know, but from the way you described her I know her kind. Shallow. And she lives north of Sunnydale Road. If it weren't for our gerrymandered zoning system she wouldn't even attend the same school with you."
Roger didn't bother to answer.
"We ate dinner very late," Norma continued. "Don't you think it's about time you went to bed?"
"Soon as this is over," he said.
Norma feasted her eyes on her son's strong, firm body. Even beneath the bathrobe he exuded youth and agility. He had taken a bath before dinner and used some of that manly scented talcum she'd given him for Easter.
She could smell it.
Oh, he was such a handsome and healthy specimen of a boy! His shoulders were broad and his hips were narrow. His face was squarish, his chin strong and determined, and the light brown, wavy hair framing his almost angelic face shone and had not yet receded like his father's. A dream of a boy ... a dream...
She wished he would hurry and go to bed. Then she could put her plan into effect. She had thought the whole thing out very carefully. She would give him a few minutes to get settled and relaxed and then she would enter his room and sit down on the bed beside him. So far, perfectly normal. She had performed this ritual a thousand times in the past.
But tonight would be different.
Tonight as she rubbed his back and spoke soothingly to him she would rub differently and with a different goal in mind. Her hand would move lower and more ticklingly and, when the moment was right, there would be kisses. She felt certain he wouldn't resist her if she proceeded smoothly, gradually. His response would be the inevitable male response, although it would require a certain degree of passivity on his part. Still, she felt certain she could lead him to the point where he could not turn back despite any inner struggle that might arise within him. She would be naked beneath her own robe and the outcome would be natural, instinctive. Their lovemaking would merely happen.
Tonight would involve only Phase One of her plan, of course, and an important part of the plan was to quell her son's inevitable guilt feelings which would follow. She had given this part of her plan the most careful consideration of all, for if his sense of guilt following tonight could not be erased then Phase Two would never happen. And it was this second phase that was all-important to Norma Dunham.
Phase One involved bringing her son to orgasm-at least with her hand and, she hoped, with her mouth.
Phase Two involved sexual intercourse for the rest of their lives!
Tonight she would introduce him to a new delight which only a skilled and mature woman could perform. Then would follow a lull, a period during which she would remove his shame and condition him for an all-out physical relationship.
"Your hair's awfully long, son. I wish you'd get a haircut," she remarked rather reprovingly.
"Oh, Mother-" He ignored her and went on watching the television film.
"Well, I'm going now and take my bath. The movie should be over by then. I want you in bed within fifteen minutes, do you hear, Roger? "
"Yes, Mother."
A commercial interrupted the film just then and Roger rolled over onto his back. His robe parted slightly and Norma could see her son's pubic hair and part of his large penis. She forced herself not to stare at his genitals.
"Listen, Mom," he said. "I've been thinking. Do you suppose we could take down all those stuffed animals and some of those younger toys cluttering up the shelves in my room? I'm not a kid anymore, you know? When my friends come over I have to explain that you are a toy buyer at Bartlett's and that's why I still have all the baby stuff. But it's embarrassing. It really is. Naturally, the football and basketball and baseball equipment are fine, but I just gotta throw that kid junk out."
Norma's first impulse was to fly into uncontrolled rage, to lash out and remind her son that each and every toy-the stuffed animals, the train, the cars and little trucks, the animal pictures, the baby booties-represented a loving gift, a phase in his life that was sacred to her. But then she caught herself. She realized once again that everything did happen for a reason. Yes, the timing could not be more perfect. Her son was indeed about to become a man-in every respect-and it was time to remove all memories of his childhood from his room.
"Certainly, Roger," she said. "I don't know why I didn't think of the idea myself. It is silly having all those kid's things in a grown boy's room."
Roger seemed a little surprised at his mother's immediate agreement with him. The commercial finished just then and the movie once again flashed on the TV screen. "Uh-thanks, Mom," he said, puzzled, and rolled over on his stomach again.
"In fact, we'll toss them in the hall closet with your baby books right after I finish my bath," Norma said.
"Great," he said. "Good riddance!"
Norma filled the tub extra high with unusually hot water. She wanted it that way. Tonight was special. She wanted to be scrubbed clean, pure and without a speck of odor on her; worthy. Then she would apply talcum and cologne to her body-prepare herself for her son's true indoctrination. That meaningless affair with that teenage tramp, Sheila, had been only a prelude. Roger's knowledge of life and the true meaning of femininity would come tonight ... with his mother.
The water in the tub was too hot to bear, Norma decided as she tested it with her toe. Ouch. Scalding! She decided to let it cool just a bit while she did her facial exercises in front of the mirror. She stood there, moving the muscles of her face up and down and from side to side, massaging away any possible future wrinkles. She was a good-looking woman and she knew it; prevention is the best policy. After a while, she backed away from the mirror and studied her body. Firm and curved and indented in all the right places. She had her sitting-up exercises and careful dieting to thank for that! Thirty-four was not old by any means (friends told her she looked younger than thirty!) but she intended to go on looking youthful and trim and attractive-for Roger. What son wanted to have sex with and fondle a haggard and saggy-looking mother?
Norma tested the tub water once again, then eased into the very hot water and, finally, lay on her back to soak. She lay there remembering all the wonderful times with Roger while he was growing up. She remembered his first day at school. He'd wet his pants and rubbed sand on the wet thinking it would go away, but of course it had only made things more obvious and he'd come home crying. She had hugged him and patiently assuaged his embarrassment. How many times had she hugged him and made him the confident man he was today? She couldn't count them.
The good times, too, were innumerable. Countless. Norma recalled trips to the beach before she'd divorced Roger's father. And there were delightful weekends in their mountain cabin: sailing, water-skiing, hiking; toboggans and snow fights in the winter.
The beach house had been fun, too, and the trips to Mexico on their yacht. Well, Norma thought, now that Roger's father led his own life, many of the former pleasures were no longer possible, so it was all the more important that she and Roger share life intimately-live as one. Tonight would mark the beginning of an era in their lives.
When Norma was certain she had soaked herself spotless-even more antiseptic than on her wedding night-she got out of the tub and toweled herself with great care. Then she applied the talc and cologne. No facial creams tonight, and no pins in the hair either. No sir. She brushed her hair until it glistened, then went to her room and entered the huge walk-in closet. She decided against her bathrobe in favor of a white negligee, very sheer and almost transparent. Then she stood before her long mirror and admired her jutting, prominent breasts and firm body once again before putting on her slippers and joining Roger in the living room. Fortunately, the movie had just ended and the coming attractions were on. She smiled to herself and thought: Everything happens for a reason. She had a few "Coming Attractions" of her own in mind for young Roger.
"Well, dear," she sing-songed, "shall we tuck all those kid things in the closet and tuck you in for bed?"
Rising, Roger did a double-take at the sight of his mother in the see-through negligee. "Uh-yes, Mom," he said, trying to keep his gaze from loitering on any vital places. "It's-uh-really swell of you to agree to dump all that junk. I thought you might object?"
"Nonsense, darling," she said. "What on earth ever gave you that idea? I want you to be happy. I've always wanted nothing but your happiness."
He was looking at her a little skeptically and still having trouble deciding where and where not to look. Good, Norma thought, he's trying not to stare at my tits and the little patch between my legs.
"You're a big boy now, Roger-a man." She wrinkled her nose in a fun-loving gesture. "Come on now. Let's get that baby junk out of my big man's room and get him to bed." She offered her hand and he took it.
It took several trips, even with both of them carrying armfuls, to unload the shelves and stash all the articles from Roger's childhood away in the closet. When they had finished the room looked barren, unfurnished.
"We'll get you men's things to fill those shelves," Norma said. "Adult books, a sailing ship, an antique dueling pistol, things like that." She laughed. "Maybe even a pipe rack! Or how about a few pin-ups on the wall?" she said, winking.
"Really? Could I?"
"Certainly. Why not? You're a man, aren't you?"
Roger stood there delighted, grinning.
"I'm going to brush my teeth," Norma said to her son. "Slip into bed and I'll be back in a minute to tuck you in." It was a lie. She had already brushed her teeth, but she wanted him in bed when she returned. She would leave the hall light on for just the right effect and then she would make her approach with the door slightly ajar.
She left him then and flitted idly about the house, turning off lights and locking doors.
After just the right amount of time had elapsed, she returned, left the door partly open and sat down on the bed beside Roger. He lay on his back. She kissed his cheek lingeringly and told him to turn over onto his stomach so that she could rub his back. He obeyed and she turned back the covers all the way down to his knees. Only his tight-fitting undershorts marred her view of his splendidly muscled body. She began massaging his back with both hands in the usual casual manner. She scrunched his shoulder blades together, squeezed his firm upper arms and neck and pushed lightly at the small of his back just above his shorts.
"We've gotten along fairly well these past few years-just the two of us-haven't we?" she asked, her hands still working.
"Ummm," Roger grunted, lulled by the massage.
"Yes, we've even become good friends. Yes, that's important ... a deep friendship. Sometimes I think of you more as a friend than my son, did you know that? Well, I do. And friends can tell each other anything and everything. They can share everything imaginable, Roger."
Norma's hands moved lower with each stroke of his back, encompassing more and more of his buttocks. Occasionally she let her fingers slide under the elastic band of his shorts, preparing him for even lower attention. Finally, at least every third stroke of her hand included his outer thigh and the cheeks of his buttocks.
"Feel good?" she inquired.
"Great," he said. "Nice."
There was no alarm in his voice and she began concentrating exclusively on the lower half of his body, kneading the cheeks of his firm rear-the same cheeks she had patted lovingly or spanked when he'd been a child. She managed to move his trunk from side to side and up and down, creating friction between the mattress and his genitals. She doubted that his organ could remain limp after such stimulation even if he willed it so and, who could tell, maybe he longed for the same physical intimacy with her as she sought with him? Such a thing was not impossible, was it? Perhaps his beautiful man's prick was rigid and eager this very instant. She wondered if it was.
And then several wonderful things happened that brought fierce hope and desire to the pit of Norma's stomach. First, Roger's cheeks clenched tightly together beneath his shorts and he seemed to indulge himself in several subtle pelvic thrusts at the bed. Ah, so he is responding, she thought. Despite himself he was becoming sexually aroused. Then, best of all, her son casually raised his bottom and reached down with his hand to adjust himself. His penis was enlarging! Its growth had brought momentary discomfort and he had found it necessary to align it so that it lay flat! What other explanation could there be?
Norma's hands worked on, pressing even harder now to create even more friction. Her beautiful son's penis was erect now, she was certain of it, and she grew bolder as she indirectly drove her boy's genital region faster and harder against the bed-so rapidly and firmly that the bedsprings began to squeak. And still no resistance-no resistance at all. In fact, he began to squirm slightly, almost imperceptibly, and twice she thought she heard him moan. Yes, she thought, bending lower, he was moaning. She was sure of it! The thought of him erect and ready for direct sexual contact drove her to near frenzy. Her breath came faster and so did Roger's.
Should she be satisfied this first time with merely bringing him to a climax by pushing his organ against the bed, or dare she attempt to lower his shorts and touch his erection directly? The thought that she should conduct her seductive campaign in stages running over a period of several nights occurred to her, but her pulse quickened wildly with desire and she could not control herself. No, no, she thought. She had to have him tonight-touch and mouth his beautiful body. It was sacrifice enough to restrain herself from seeking actual sexual intercourse this first night!
Her heart slamming against her ribs now, she bounced his buttocks into the bed with one hand and ran her other hand ticklingly up and down the length of his back. His moaning increased in intensity and she resisted the urge to hurl herself onto him and take him by force!
"This will make you nice and drowsy and help you sleep," she cooed, desperately hiding the tremor in her voice. "Yes, you'll sleep like a baby. Maybe-maybe you're even asleep already?" This question, she realized, was a master-stroke! It would provide him with the perfect excuse for letting her have her way with him. He could pretend he was asleep and therefore blameless. She wondered why she hadn't thought of this tactic before. Perfect! Perfect! She decided to continue this approach.
"Yes, nice and drowsy," she repeated. "You're probably asleep right now. Well, that's all right. I'll just go on rubbing my darling's back even though he is asleep. He doesn't even know what I'm doing but this is good for his backmakes it nice and straight and strong. He's sound asleep but I'll just go on rubbing ... making him feel good all over..."
Gently, Norma tugged at his undershorts and lowered them to his knees. Still, there wasn't the slightest hint of resistance-only the reward of a slight writhing of his body as her hand made contact with his bare flesh. She maintained the pressure against his buttocks, still pushing firmly up and down, up and down, and with her free hand she began running her fingers tantalizingly between the sheet and the front of his hips, digging her fingers a little further toward the organ she knew was erect by now with each urgent stroke.
Finally, her hand rubbed his stomach-his abdomen-and she knew she was perhaps an inch away from her goal, if that! Just then, her son groaned and then, almost fitfully, turned slightly so that he lay a bit on his side. It was a perfect move-a move one asleep might very well make-and it gave Norma complete and total access to her son's waiting cock. She extended her fingertips perhaps a hair's length and at last made contact with her son's dribbling, hot erection. She emitted a little gasp and took a deep breath before she gingerly took the firm, round giant in her hand and tested Roger one final time by squeezing it before going into all out action.
To her delight, he rolled over on his back and lay still, as though in a deep sleep. His eyelids quivered rapidly though, and his heaving chest betrayed his consciousness. Good, she thought, her own body trembling all over now, he'll be aware of everything I'm going to do but he's saved himself the embarrassment of admitting he's awake.
Norma took a long time massaging her son's pectoral muscles, his nipples, his abdomen and muscled thighs as she eyed his meaty monster jutting at the ceiling so firm and erect in the dim light. When finally she lay her cheek on his abdomen with her lips just inches from its stalk, she took it delicately in her palm the way a connoisseur of fine sculpture might appraise something fragile.
It was not fragile.
It pulsed and even jerked slightly as she grasped it more openly and even his scrotum seemed to hum with excitement (Was it his love fluid, his semen, scurrying about his love-almonds that produced such an effect?) as she milked the ruddy-textured sack of flesh.
Norma took a long time admiring and petting this object of unspeakable beauty that she had lusted after for so long now. It stood so straight and true and craving and, more important than anything, so close to her eager lips preparing to lave and cleanse and devour it. Oddly, it now functioned as a kind of magnet, tugging and begging the rising tide within her mouth to encircle and envelop it. She licked her dry lips.
She could hold back no longer. And neither could Roger! The poor boy's hips raised tremblingly from the sheet as he sensed that even greater stimulation and warmth than her hand awaited him. She jacked his foreskin over his gristly hard on, squeezing hard for a moment longer, and then she began kissing and lapping at the lubricant that dripped from his swollen, bulbous cock-head.
Finally, her mouth worked entirely over the rigid shaft and her son's pitiful, "MO-THERRRRRRRRR," as she took his scalding meat deep into her oral cavity nearly drove her insane with the knowledge that he knew. He knew! He knew and the pleasure was so great, so overpowering and all-consuming and incredibly pleasant that he could no longer feign sleep and this gasping admission that his own mother now mouthed his prick had come forth from the depths of his being. "MO-THERRRRRRRRR," he groaned again. Involuntary? Perhaps. But he knew! He knew ecstasy and by whom it was being delivered. She, Norma, was bringing the ultimate pleasure to her son, Roger-the love of her life!
Now Norma began the feast she had so carefully plotted. She gorged herself with all the gluttony of a half-starved gourmet. Her son's penis was a lollipop to be savored, an object to be teased, prompted, coaxed, urged. Her tongue bathed, snaked, bathed every pore of this stout rod that seemed to grow longer with each adoring lick. Nor did she spare the tender globes beneath his taut tower. No speck of flesh surrounding his testicles-no matter how remote-escaped her searching, hungry mouth. She had intended to restrain herself this first time, but she assaulted her son's genitals with a tender fury that astounded even herself. Her only regret was that Phase One of her plan did not call for her son to reciprocate.
She was certain that he was far beyond the ability to decline any action she might initiate, but she managed to adhere to her original plan. In Phase Two she could clasp him to her bosom and feel his swollen shaft plunge to the depths of her, but for now she would only drink from his flesh fountain.
She worked efficiently now, molding her mouth in a slick-wet and steady rhythm over the delicious contour of Roger's jabbing and engorged hard on ... Oh he was reciprocating ... yes, yes ... driving for the depth of her throat ... even touching her head ... pushing and groaning as his balls ached to spew forth...
He was nearly there, she could tell. She mouthed harder, making a tight glove of her mouth ... nearly there ... nearly there. THERE! A geyser of a man, her son ... brimful ... such quantity she'd never known! More and more and still more. And the blessed sounds that emerged from deep down in his throat were music to her ears as he found his release. Few mothers would ever know such total devotion to their sons, she thought as she swallowed again and again. Few mothers would ever know such complete and exquisite feelings of passion for their offspring. She drank greedily from her son and as she did so she told herself that perhaps only a very few would ever know the true meaning of ultimate joy and bliss.
It was a very long time before her son showed even the slightest change, but she remained with her head pressed against his stomach until at last he began to dwindle as all flesh must. Then she pulled his undershorts back on, covered him and kissed his cheek. He rolled over and curled up, facing the wall. She was certain he was still awake and she delivered the final, important message softly in his ear.
"I know you were sound asleep, Roger. You didn't know a thing your mother did. You couldn't help what happened because you were asleep. How could you help something you knew nothing about? It was all just a dream. Yes, a dream. But Mother will visit you again and bring you even more beautiful dreams. If you don't like the dreams you need only awake and ask Mother to go away and she will. But if you like these dreams with Mother she'll bring them to you as often as you like."
Norma Dunham kissed her son's cheek. "But of course you can't hear me because you're sound asleep, aren't you, Roger? Yes, I must be crazy talking to myself this way to a sleeping boy. I love you, my darling, and I wish you sweet drams. I wish you many, many more sweet drams-just like tonight. It's up to you, my sweet. Either you wake up or you remain asleep and dream and dream and dream. Yes, it's entirely up to you, isn't it?"
Norma Dunham tiptoed softly to the door and shut it behind her. Then she hurried for the vibrator in her dresser drawer. Thank God for the vibrator! she thought. She had to get relief! Phase One had been exquisite but frustrating. Phase Two would be different. She could hardly wait.