Chapter 1
Roger Norris could hear the shower running in his mothers bathroom as he entered her bedroom suite. He hadn't been out of his own room in a couple of days but Stacy, his mother, hadn't been home long enough at any one time to notice, he was sure. Now he wanted to talk to someone. Roger was just fifteen and suffering from the mental and physical ache of unrequited love.
The door to the bathroom was partly open and he could hear the voices of his mother and her secretary, Hester Bard, over the sound of the water.
"Stacy," Roger called, tapping lightly on the door, "can I see you for a minute?"
"Is that you, Rog?" Stacy's voice was clear and vibrant and reached him just a second before Hester's red hair and freckle-sprinkled face appeared in the doorway.
"Your mother is taking a shower," Hester announced in her clipped English way. "What is it you want?"
"I want to speak to my mother," Roger said, disliking having to explain to this tall, slender woman who was his mother's right hand in all her numerous endeavors. "Alone, if you don't mind."
Hester sniffed and stared at him coldly. She was twenty-nine and rather attractive in a stiff, no-nonsense way, unmarried and as nearly as Roger could determine, unbedded as well. Except for the sprinkle of freckles, she had one of those peaches-and-cream complexions that the English climate seemed to produce. She always stood very erect and seemed to deplore her long, shapely legs and firm, up-thrust breasts. And since Roger was, like most young males his age, in an almost permanent state of sexual excitement, he had several times entertained fantasies in which Hester was flat on her back in his bed with her legs spread and the reddish muff of her womanhood open and ready for his strong young cock.
But even those dreams had remained incredible because he was sure he'd never met a more unassailable woman than this prim, efficient female who was so devoted to his beautiful mother.
"I'll see if she can afford the time," Hester said, staring down the look Roger was letting sweep down from the firm mounds of her breasts to the smooth round knees and trim ankles. "She has a tight schedule today."
"You might remind her that I'm her son," Roger said as Hester turned and shut the door. He couldn't help sniping at the redhead because she seemed to resent every second he had spent with Stacy since his arrival in Los Angeles from Kuwait, where his father had been an engineer in the oil fields until he'd been cut down by a terrorist bullet.
Stacy was a terribly busy person. She edited and published a magazine devoted to the rights and welfare of children and teenagers, she acted as legislative lobbyist for such groups as Children's Rights Now and the Juvenile Justice Congress, and still found time to attend to her lucrative law practice. That was probably why he had been placed in the custody of his father when his parents had been divorced when he was ten, although Stacy claimed it was because the judge was prejudiced against her because of her efforts to reform the juvenile justice system. And he had to admit she had seemed pleased to have him with her since he had showed up tired and grieving from the Near East even though she couldn't spend a lot of time just visiting or talking to him. But right now Roger felt he needed advice on how to deal with the cute and cuddlesome Kathy Conroy and her kittenish mother, Lucille, who hung around so close when he was with her daughter.
Of course, he couldn't expect the same type of advice from Stacy that his father would have given him. He wouldn't even dare tell her how he longed to sink his cock between Kathy's plump white thighs, nor could he complain of how after repeated heavy petting sessions the girl was still sending him home with the stone aches every night. No, Stacy had a heart that bled for the young of the world and was astonishingly broad-minded about the sexual affairs of other people, but Roger suspected that she herself was something of an icicle. His father had hinted at something of that nature, and the dates she'd had since he'd been home seemed more like social business meetings than romantic interludes.
And then she seemed to be totally lacking in any understanding of the sexual nature of a normal fifteen-year-old boy. She was completely oblivious to the fact that her son was mature sexually, if not intellectually, and that her careless semi-nudity could have such a devastating effect on him. She was quite capable, for instance, of appearing in his room late at night wearing only a transparent negligee and bikini-type panties, of kissing him full on the mouth, or even of inviting him into her bed on a Sunday morning for a mother-son tete-a-tete.
The door to the bathroom opened and Stacy came striding out with Hester behind her, looking grim and disapproving. Roger sucked in his breath as he saw that she was wearing nothing but a terry cloth sarong and her own creamy white skin. At thirty-four, Stacy Norris, at least in the opinion of her son, was the most beautiful woman in the world. Despite her intellectual ability and dedication, Stacy didn't look the part of a reformer at all. With her blonde hair spilling about her shoulders as it was now, she looked more like a young Valkyrie just come from a dunking in the chill water of the Baltic. She positively glowed with good health and vitality as she moved quickly toward him, each step exposing the full length of her superbly curved thigh almost to the point where it joined her torso.
Roger stared at the tall blonde dynamo who had borne him, seeing the surge of the full out-thrust breasts against the restraining cloth and getting a glimpse of the deep cleavage between them. She stopped before him where he perched on the edge of the bed, put a hand behind his head and kissed him full on the lips with open-mouthed warmth.
"Well, sweetie, what does mother's big boy want? Are you feeling neglected, my darling? I really can't blame you if you are, but you know how busy I am; you know how much time it takes to try to make the world a decent place to live in for all the kids who don't have your chance in life."
The kiss and the words made him give up any idea of mentioning Kathy and her mother. Stacy still thought of him as a child when she thought of him at all, when she could spare a moment from her devotion to the welfare of every other child in the world.
Stacy turned and walked across to her dressing table with its three big mirrors and sat down on the upholstered bench in front of it. Roger had gulped as he watched the smooth rolling motion of his mother's buttocks as she walked, and now his eyes threatened to bulge out of his head as she calmly unsnapped the top of the terry cloth sarong and began to dust powder over the big mounds of her breasts, an action that was repeated in triplicate in the mirrors, showing him every outline of the magnificent cones and their cherry-tipped nipples.
Conscious of Hester's hostile violet eyes and aware that the spectacle of six perfectly shaped breasts was giving him an erection, Roger tried to tear his eyes away.
"What was it my big boy wanted to talk about?" Stacy asked, smiling at him in all three mirrors as she pulled the short wrap the rest of the way open and began to dust her belly and thighs. Luckily for Roger's peace of mind, nothing below the navel was visible in the mirrors. If it had been, he would have had to run from the room or suffer the shame of coming in his pants right then and there. "Does my little man need more money to entertain his little friend Kathy?"
"N-no," Roger managed to stutter, "money isn't my problem. My allowance is really more than enough. I never got used to spending a lot of bread like the kids here do."
"Oh. Well I do want you to have everything you need that I can possibly provide."
Roger groaned inwardly. If she only knew what he needed! He needed it so much that it was like a fireball in his testicles. There had never been any trouble about girls when he had been in Kuwait. Women were cheap and plentiful there and only an early acquired sense of discrimination had kept him from sampling everything offered. In the last year or so before his father had been killed, he had had all the sex he could use. Once back in the States, however, he had found himself in an entirely different situation. Here, where sexual mores were supposed to be mod and the girls liberated and available, he was doing without and suffering at the hands of a plump little blonde tease who was eager to engage in endless sessions of groping without ever thinking of a need to climax.
"Do you need some advice, dear?" Stacy asked. "I know a boy needs an older person to confide in, and I do want to be that person for you, but you'll have to speak up quickly. My schedule is terribly tight, you know."
"No...no, I don't really need any advice. I just wanted to talk a little and-"
"And, of course, now that I'm adding the school," Stacy said, interrupting him without seeming to notice, "I'll be busier than ever. It is exciting though because this will be the big test of my theories about the essential goodness of teenagers, Rog. Judge Upton has given me complete charge of the new experimental school for teenage boys who have gotten tangled up in the ridiculous web of our juvenile code. I'll have a staff of three and the judge's full backing to replace the old outmoded, vicious treatment juvenile offenders have received with a new type of humanistic, relevant involvement that will bring out the essential goodness of their natures."
Trying to keep his eyes off the way her breasts bounced when she combed her hair, Roger remembered his father telling him once about Stacy's belief that there was no such thing as a bad boy. "If there isn't," Brad had said with a grin, "then some good kids are capable of doing some awful rotten things."
"Judge Upton is one of the few sensitive human beings in the juvenile system and he's convinced that, my ideas of justice and freedom for the young are the only acceptable ones," Stacy rattled on while Hester glared angrily at Roger and Roger struggled not to look at the tempting allure of Stacy's body. "That's why he's assigning a dozen boys to my care and diverting funds from Juvenile Hall to Stepping Stone School and placing me in complete charge."
"And you're going to try to reform a dozen young thugs with love and kindness?" Roger asked.
"Roger, dear, I have neglected you!" Stacy said, turning toward him so that she was exposed from belly to thigh with even a hint of the golden brush between the creamy columns of her legs. "If I hadn't, you would know that the greatest power in the world today is love and kindness."
"Stacy, you'd better get dressed," Hester said, tight-lipped as she stepped between mother and son, blocking Roger's view with her own slender, erect body. "Here are your under things."
"I don't feel neglected," Roger said, leaning forward and pressing his legs together to hide the fact that looking at Stacy's loveliness had caused his super-sensitive young cock to swell painfully inside his tight jeans.
"I do wish there was more I could do for you," Stacy said, absentmindedly slipping the ivory glories of her breasts into a bra while Hester hovered close to block the boy's view. "Isn't there anything I can help you with?"
"No," Roger said. Not unless you can tell me how I can get Kathy to let me fuck her, or just show me a more available target so I won't have to just sit around getting a hard-on every time you dangle that lush frame of yours in front of my eyes without even realizing what you're doing.
'Incidentally, those poor boys are not thugs, Roger. They are simply lads who have gotten into trouble.
Some of them come from very good families, you know. Ricky Benson, for instance. I know his mother quite well and his father is one of the most distinguished men in Los Angeles. How could anyone think a boy like Ricky could be really bad?"
"Probably because he raped a twelve-year-old and beat her up when she threatened to tell her parents," Roger said. "Yeah, I know Ricky Benson. Everybody at school thinks he's a prize louse."
"Well, they've got to be wrong. He's one of the nicest, most intelligent and politest boys I've ever met," Stacy said.
"Oh, he's got a smooth front, all right," Roger said. "He's used that super line of his on nearly every groovy chick in school, and mostly he scores."
"Really now, Rog, you shouldn't let rumors like that prejudice you against the boy," Stacy said, putting out a leg and beginning to draw the sheer pantyhose up its smooth white column.
Rog moaned deep in his guts at the sight of the smooth rounded flesh, at the satiny softness of inner thigh, at the tendril of ash blonde hair that was barely discernible at its apex. God what an innocent you are, Mother of mine! I hope you never have to find out what Ricky Benson is like first hand.
"How do you explain that rape rap that landed him in the slammer?" he asked aloud
"Oh, you know how the police are," Stacy said airily. "To them a youngster is just like a black or a chicano. Ricky must have been framed."
'Yeah, framed, sure," Roger said. Despite her intelligence, his mother was as naive as a child, much more naive than he had ever been. Kicking around the world with his father had taught him that everyone wasn't basically good, that there were people like Ricky Benson in every society.
Stacy stood up and leaned forward to smooth the pantyhose up her thighs, the terry cloth sarong still clinging to her hips. Roger sucked in his breath and shifted on the bed, trying to ease the pressure of his tight jeans against his erection. Hester glared at him over Stacy's head and moved again to cut off his view as the robe dropped to the floor leaving Stacy's back uncovered.
Roger gulped and almost fell off the bed as the magnificent buttocks appeared, a dimple at the top of each where they flared out from the lower back and curved gently down to the smaller mound where they joined the perfect columns of her legs.
Hester snatched up the robe and held it around her employer to hide the twitching bottom as the pantyhose were tugged into place. "Please, Mrs. Norris, you're embarrassing your son."
Stacy's tinkling laugh rang out. "Roger? Don't be silly, Hester. To a boy his age, I'm nothing but an old hag."
Having dismissed the subject from her mind and her son along with it, Stacy turned to other affairs. Pulling on the bottoms of a green knit pantsuit, she let Hester help her with the matching scarf and jacket, then reached for the papers the secretary had placed on one corner of the dressing table.
"Those are the proofs of three articles for the next issue of Juvenile Rights," Hester said. "Miss Tompkins proofed them but she wants your final approval."
Stacy leafed through the pages. "Why don't we hold this article by Strathmore until the next issue? I want to do a long editorial about the new school and the wonderful group of boys we're going to be working with."
Roger eased himself off the bed and started toward the door, keeping his back to the two women so they wouldn't see the swollen front of his pants if they happened to look in his direction. He thought he'd better give Kathy another try. If he didn't get sexual relief of some kind, no woman was going to be safe around him very much longer, and that included his own mother.
"Strathmore will have a fit," Hester said "He thinks his ideas on the proper development of the adolescent libido were handed down at Mount Sinai."
"He's a crypto-chauvinist," Stacy said. "Let him wait, it'll be good for his soul."
Roger slipped through the door and closed it quietly behind him, walking down the hall to his own room with some difficulty because of the painful pressure of the tight jeans on his engorged cock. He had to do something, find some way of assuaging his terrible need. Maybe if he could separate Kathy from the overly watchful eye of her mother for an hour or so, take her on a beach party...yeah, that was a good idea. Some skinny-dipping in the surf might turn her on, or at the very least bring her looking for warmth in his arms.
Feeling a little better now that he had a plan and something to work on, he picked up the phone and dialed the Conroy number. Lucille answered on the second ring in her usual school-girlish way.
"Oh, hi, Rog!" she said, giggling and letting her voice drop to an intimate purr. "How nice to hear from you."
"Is Kathy there, Mrs. Conroy?" Roger asked politely, suppressing the urge to tell her to act her age.
"No. No, she isn't," Lucille said with another giggle. "Jerry Henderson picked her up a while ago. He's a freshman at UCLA, you know. He's taking Kathy to one of those neat little off-campus restaurants. They're so full of atmosphere, you know."
"Oh." Roger couldn't keep the disappointment put of his voice.
"Not that Kathy is all that impressed by Jerry," Lucille hastened to add. He's a nice boy, but after all, a girl with Kathy's looks and figure has so many fellows hanging around that it takes someone kind of special...someone rather like you, Roger, to...well, you know."
Roger didn't know what to make of that. He wasn't sure if the woman was saying Kathy thought of him as being special or if that was her own opinion. Certainly Kathy hadn't been acting as though she thought he was very special. Fortunately he didn't have to comment. Lucille wasn't the type to allow any pauses or gaps in the conversation, so she rushed right on without waiting for him to say anything.
"I know she'll probably be home early, Rog, and if you'd like, you can come on over here and wait for her. I'm sure she'd love to see you and I know I would. You and I can have a nice long talk and I might even be persuaded to fix you a nice little drinkie."
Rog was more confused than ever. Surely Mrs. Conroy couldn't have any ideas about him. No, that couldn't be. Lucille was older than his own mother and not any way near as good-looking. She was just trying to be friendly in her silly, kittenish way.
"That's very nice of you, Mrs. Conroy," he said, "but I don't want to put you to all that trouble."
"It's no trouble; it will be a pleasure," she bubbled. "I'm not doing anything but watching television and I'd like a little company. There's some groovy game shows on and I'm sure you'd like them-they're so educational and everything, you know. A smart young man like you should really dig them."
"Yes, ma'am," he said automatically. Drinkie, game shows? What was he letting himself in for? Still, there was the possibility that Kathy would come home early and if he was nice to her mother, perhaps it wouldn't be so difficult to get the girl off by herself later.
"Are you coming over then?" Lucile asked coyly.
"Yes, thank you, Mrs. Conroy," Roger said. "I'll be there in just a little while."-
He lowered the phone back into its cradle with Lucille's conspiratorial giggle echoing in his ear. "Oh man," he muttered to himself, "the things we do for the sake of our cocks!"
But then the thought of Kathy cavorting in the surf in her innocent nakedness wiped out the thought of her mother. He could almost see that plumply pretty little body buoyed up and rocking gently on the incoming waves while he frolicked around it like a friendly porpoise, maybe even diving between the sweet young thighs and planting a devastating kiss on the precious furry mound at their juncture. He could almost taste the tangy wetness of that previously untouched pussy. The hair would be crisp and curly and the tender flesh would be a blend of salt from the water, spicy cologne and intoxicating girl juice.
With the prospect of what might happen after that driving him, Roger stripped off his jeans and shirt to change into something looser and more comfortable.
He was sitting on the side of the bed in his shorts when the door to his room opened and Hester Bard stepped inside and closed it behind her.
"You dirty-minded, filthy little pig!" The clipped accent was more pronounced than ever but the cool English manner was gone.
"Wh-what?" Roger asked and tried to cover his obvious state of erection with his hands. "What the hell are you doing here?"
"I came to have a talk with you, a serious talk," Hester said, fists clenched at her sides and lips set in a grim line. "A talk about you and Stacy."
"I have a date," Roger said. "I'm getting ready to go out."
"That can wait," Stacy said, "but this can't. Your behavior back there in Stacy's room was inexcusable."
"My behavior? I didn't do anything," Roger said. Who the hell did this broad think she was to come on like this? Who had appointed her guardian of Stacy Norris?
"I saw the look in your eyes! I saw how lust consumed you when Stacy innocently disrobed in front of you! You ought to be ashamed! Your own mother!"
"All I did was look," Roger said defensively. "What was I supposed to do? It was all there hanging out for me to see."
Hester flushed and her lips curled in contempt. "I can't imagine how vile you must be on the inside! I can't imagine a boy so evil that he would look at his own mother with lust!"
"Now, look, Hester, just because you're my mother's secretary doesn't give you the right to come busting in here like her guardian angel. I know my mother is a decent, dedicated person, but she's also incredibly naive. She thinks I'm still a child and it never occurs to her that running around naked in front of her little boy is wrong, but-"
"A child! Look at you!" Hester's voice was rising and her violet eyes flashed fire. "It sickens me to see you like that and know it came from lusting after your own mother!"
Roger threw up his hands. He didn't care what she saw now. "Okay, I was there. I couldn't avoid looking at her and it gave me a hard-on. I didn't want it to, but it did. It made me feel like a rat, but I couldn't help it
My cock doesn't know the difference between one beautiful female and another."
"You. You filthy little degenerate. I think you would have raped her if I hadn't been there."
"You're crazy," Rog said. "You've flipped out, Hester, old girl."
"You stinking, incestuous little pig!" Hester raged. "You wanted to rape her!"
"But I didn't and I never would," Roger groaned. "Sure, I get all kinky inside looking at her, but she's my mother! I'd never do anything to hurt her."
"Yes, you would! I know you would! You don't care about anything but your own beastly lust! You'd destroy that wonderful woman just for that!"
Hester's voice was more than a little hysterical and she certainly was being overly dramatic. What did she want from him? He felt badly enough about what had happened without her beating him over the head with it
"Look, Hester, I'm sorry. What else can I say? Now, if you'll please run along, I have to get dressed and go-"
"No! Sorry isn't enough! I won't allow you to look at Stacy that way!" Hester advanced on him, eyes wild. "I am personally going to see to it that you never lust for her again!"
The look in her eyes and the tone of her voice was so fanatic that Roger felt a decided uneasiness. "Come on, Hester, knock it off. Get the hell out of my room and leave me alone."
She stopped a foot or two away from him, determination in every line of her face and body. "No. I won't let Stacy's son defile her. Take down your shorts!"
"What?" Roger was really frightened now. Did she intend to try to castrate him? This gal was coming un-glued and maybe that was the only way she could think of to make sure he never had another evil thought about Stacy. "Look, Hester, I promise. I'll never-"
"You have no strength to resist evil, but I will help you," she said, the words more like a curse than an offer of aid. "Take down your shorts."
"Hester, please. If you pull a knife on me, I'll-"
"You fool! I wouldn't waste my time using violence on you! Now do as I say if you want sexual relief
Roger's mouth fell open in astonishment "If I want what!"
"You heard me! And hurry up, I haven't got all day. I have a lot of important work to do, but first I have to make sure you're in no condition to harm Stacy when she gets home. Now, take down those shorts or I'll do it for you!"
When Rog continued to stare at her in consternation, she stepped closer, put her hands on his shoulders and pushed him flat on the bed. Then she reached for his shorts and yanked them down to his knees.
"Hey, for Christ's sake, lady!" Roger gasped as his swollen shaft came into full view.
"You're an animal," Hester said, a look of utter disgust on her face. "An absolute animal, a danger to every woman or girl you meet but I'll soon take care of that."
She pulled his shorts the rest of the way off and tossed them aside, and Roger still wondered if she was going to whip out a knife and start slashing. He had heard of man-hating women doing that. He felt her hands on his knees and then saw with mixed relief and amazement that she had dropped to her own knees between his legs and was seeking the thick pole of his young shaft with her mouth.