Chapter 13

ALL MAMA'S CHILDREN LOVE SEX

A close association was not what I got next. I ran into sort of a mother-child syndrome for a while. A double dose of it in fact.

First, I had Molly and her darling daughter Babikins. Babikins was a darling all right ... if girls turn you on. She reminded me of my sister Margeen.

Babikins had long silky blonde hair. And on her pussy she also had silky blonde hair. Very little. You had to look twice, or see it glimmer in the light, or else feel it, to be sure.

But inside that naked V was a real hot box of yearning. Tongue yearning.

Babikins didn't like boys. When she was ten, a dirty old man grabbed her one night on her way home from a birthday party and gave it to her in the mouth. Consequently she 'hated smelly pricks.'

Babikins, now nineteen, who had a close relationship with her mother Molly, told her how terribly she hated cocks, but how desperately she constantly yearned to get her rocks off.

Molly, who had a guilty conscience over letting Babikins walk home from the birthday party, even though it had been only four houses away and barely dusk, promised to satiate Babikins to her dying day.

And Molly did do a wonderful job. I watched. I heard. I participated.

The hitch was; Molly liked to get her rocks off too. And because she gave Babikins all of her attention, Molly's husband had divorced her. Yes, Molly took expert tongued, lovely care of her daughter. But Babikins refused to reciprocate. In other words, Babikins wouldn't put her virgin tongue to Mama's old cunt.

She would suck her Mama's titties until I expected to see her give milk any second, but she left Mama's cunty crying (to be had.

Daddy, when he left them, graciously left plenty of bread behind. Molly and Babikins, both of whom I met in a high class boutique in Beverly Hills when I went on a bus tour, offered me four times my usual fee if I would come to their home once a week and service Molly, as she ate out Babikins.

I agreed. Why not. For a woman, Molly wasn't bad. She was in fact a very good looking big knockered female of thirty-eight years.

So she had a thing for her daughter. It didn't bother me. She was immaculately clean, could be trusted not to blab, and had the money I needed. I wasn't any psychiatrist. I was a sexpot. Spelled SEX.

I did refuse to go to Beverly Hills though. I knew Molly wasn't likely to bring me any extra customers. The main thing she insisted on was that none of us even HINT of our relationship. So I told her I didn't have time to waste riding buses, and I didn't have a car. Molly and Babikins came to me.

COME TO ME. COME TO ME. COME TO MAMA DO ... I remember my daddy playing a record with those words and when I saw Molly and Babikins at my door, it always ran through my head.

They sure did come to me all right. COME with capital letters. On Monday and Friday afternoons. We closed ourselves in my bedroom and I always took the phone off the hook.

I'd never had a female threesome. But it was the same as any other sex session. Just do what comes naturally.

Sometimes I don't know how we got untangled. We did it all. With the one exception. Molly could get so hot her cunt threw off steam ... but Babikins would not put her fire out.

So, for the most part, while Mama ate baby, I ate Mama, and baby ate me. And for variety, I taught them to use dildos on each other. Babikins didn't bulk at this artificial means of a man's pecker. And Mama was juicy come all over herself at getting cock again, fake though it was.

These rounds made me come all right. But I'm for real live cock myself, and plenty of it. I always made sure I had a good dependable dick's appointment follow this female threesome.

Molly said not to tell a word about our tete a tete. Maybe she just 'confided' to her best friend ... sort of hinted around the edges ... and gave out my phone number.

At any rate, I soon had a friend of Molly's as a new customer. Sort of. Actually I never came in a hands length of Mrs. Winters except when she handed me my pay. She hired me by phone, to take care of her son who was pining away for 'his dead lover.'

"I will admit," Mrs. Winters told me, when she discreetly confided in me, "that my son fell in love with my maid. Oh, she wasn't a bad sort at all. I wouldn't have let Jakiepoo have anything to do with a ... well, a common slut who might give him some disease. (Molly tells me you are very careful and particular.) Joanna was a nice girl. Quite fat, chubby I should say, but she had a very sweet face. And she was very good to my son. Now that she's gone, he sits in a corner and sulks."

"Why did she die . so young?" I inquired nervously. Because, if she said Joanna was killed in a jealous rage by an irate husband who didn't go for her fucking the boss's son, or that Jakiepoo did it, I wasn't having any part of Jakiepoo.

"The poor girl went to the hospital to visit her sick mother, and tripped and fell under the wheel of a bus."

I shuddered and asked no more.

"There is just one problem," I said. I live in Long Beach, and your son is in Beverly Hills. I doubt if he will want to come all the way to my apartment if he is brooding over his ... lover's death. And I can not travel such distances. I lose out on other customers if I am gone for any length of time."

"Oh, no problem. I prefer to bring Jake to you. He won't have anything to say about the matter. I will simply get him into the car and drive him to your place. Once he is there, I am sure you can persuade the poor boy to forget his heartbreak. For ... shall we say four times whatever your normal fee is?"

"Right on," I said.

I will admit an agreement is an agreement. And I did agree to take care of Jake. Mrs. Winters did put me on though. She called Jakiepoo her son. She treated him like a spoiled brat only child type. And probably no doubt had him in her will.

But I almost fainted when I first laid eyes on Jakiepoo. He could have only been Mrs. Winters' son by adoption ... or whatever. Jakiepoo was an enormous type dog. The breed escapes me still.

At first I said no. A flat out, uncertified NO. I'm not screwing any dog. Especially not that monster! At which point Mrs. Winters started babbling something about his cock being no larger than any ordinary man's.

I was on my white rug when Mrs. Winters came. I'd been taking a nap ... for which I certainly don't dress. And actually, I'd set up this scene purposely. When she knocked, I knew who it was because of the time. I'd also purposely left the door unlocked. I figured if Jakiepoo, her distraught son, needed coaxing, I would have jumped the gun a little.

I quickly sat up when Mrs. Winters and her 'son' entered. And just as quickly began my 'No!'

Just as quickly Mrs. Winters flopped in the nearest chair and began crying. Wailing, actually.

Jakiepoo had been faking his mama about being in love only with Joanna. He was sulking because when she went to the great beyond, or wherever, she took her nice wet pussy hole with her.

Right while I was vehemently spouting NO at Mrs. Winters, Jakiepoo walked straight up to me and put his paws between my feet, which were about a foot apart, and nudged them further apart.

Momentarily upset with the weeping woman, I wasn't paying any attention to the dog. Standing between my legs he lowered his head to my pussy and whimpered sadly.

"He likes your cuntie," Mrs. Winters told me, wiping her eyes with a fancy handkerchief. I knew he would from Molly's description of you. She was right. You look juicy and ripe. I can see in there, the way you are sitting. You have a nice pink clitoris. Jakiepoo just adores young pink clits."

"Oh crap lady. Take your dog ... your son ... and go home."

I was wiggling as I talked. Trying to escape. That damned dog already had his long red tongue darting in and out of my pussy. To tell the truth, I really didn't know if I was wiggling to get away, or if I was wiggling out of sheer delighted ecstasy.

I mean don't knock it until you try it. That tongue was a yard long, and as expert as a French whore. I didn't like the idea of letting a dog eat me out. But I sure had to admit I liked the delightful feeling that resulted from it.

Man, it was a trip! Who needs dope? Sex will take you to the far beyond. I think I moaned between the 'NO'S.' And with every 'no' jerk, I gave a 'yes' wiggle. I couldn't help it. It's just like with a guy. Once he starts fucking and gets to a certain point, he's not about to stop until he gets his rocks off.

I felt like I was floating on air. I didn't have any strength at all. At first I had been propped up on my elbows and they just gave way like deflated rubber, and I fell back on the rug.

I did keep saying no. Honest. But Jakiepoo didn't speak my language. When I fell back, he moved up closer and buried that long tongue deeper.

"Oh God Lady, get him out of here! He's ... he's ... OWWWOWW."

"You will love it honey," Mrs. Winters kept telling me from her chair. I looked up at her, and damn her. She had a whole handful of fingers up her cunt.

I didn't try to talk anymore. I couldn't. I was wild. I wanted a cock. I wanted a cock to fill that tongue teased hole so bad ... now I was the one who was crying.

I couldn't stand it anymore. I would faint! I would die! I was absolutely hysterical with passion. With a lunge I rolled over on my stomach to get away from that unbelievably talented tongue.

As I landed on my hands and knees, that tricky-dick dog humped me so fast I didn't even have time to gasp.

It all happened so quickly. I could feel 'Sonny's' huge powerful tool trembling with hot eagerness, as he slowly and gently, yet wildly thrust his stiff shaft into my already madly throbbing pussy. That tonguing was more than I could bare. And after all, Sonny was actually raping me.

Almost crazed with a combined fear, and shame, wild excitement and uncontrollable sex passion, I tried to crawl away. But I couldn't get loose from the big wild pushing and thrusting pole.

I could feel an orgasm like a Fourth of July celebration coming on. Fast, fast, faster, that horny dog humped me. Until the end I cried "NO. NO. NO! OWWWWWIIIIIEEEEE!"

I rolled over on the floor on my back, so blind with the after-sensations of a rocking roaring come, I couldn't hold my eyes open. Jakiepoo was lying contentedly on my rug wagging his tail ... thank. you ... thank you ... it said.

Mrs. Winters was standing over us. "Now my son will be happy again," she cried ... sort of moaned actually. And I'll be damned if she didn't sprattle her legs over Jakiepoo and let her juice pour on his back.

Then he turned his head and licked it off. Lopped it in a couple of swipes.

Then, like she was paying for groceries in a supermarket, she went back to the chair for her purse and said: "Now dear, how much will that be? I promised you four times the normal fee. What is the normal fee?"

"Well damn you, you sneaky bitch," I thought to myself. 'My son!' And I doubled my fee first, before I told her how much ... then smuggly let her multiply and pay up. After all ... I had been raped by a dog.

The tale of Jakiepoo's cock was one of those incidents I would put away in my own 'skeleton closet.' But I would take it out now and then in my own mind. Unbelievable! Wild! But no more!

I still wanted a lover. Not a fucking pet.