Chapter 4
"Who was that young man I saw leaving here this afternoon when I drove up, dear?"
Patsy continued to watch the television. She pretended not to have heard her mother.
"Patsy, I asked you a question."
She still didn't respond.
"PATSY!! "
Patsy turned.
"Huh?"
"Don't you 'huh' me, young lady, or I'll turn you over my knee and-"
"Hey mom, why don't you stick it."
Patsy's mother was momentarily silenced by this. Then she was in the living room and before Patsy knew what was happening, her mother was all over her, slapping whatever she could get her hands on.
"Hey, MOM, cut it out!! ! What do you think you're doing? Ouch, that hurt!! Dammit!! ! That hurts."
It had been several years since Patsy's mother had given her a spanking. Now, it felt very awkward to the lady to be striking her daughter like this, but enough was enough. The little monster was doing drugs, listening to that awful music, and she refused to let her hair grow back out to its normal color....
As a matter-of-fact, thought Mrs. Devlin, that hair was the most visible symbol of her daughter's rebellion.
"All right, young lady, I've had enough. Do you hear me!! I've had enough!! ! "
"Damn you, you stupid whore," Patsy yelled, losing control now.
Her mother surprised her. Years of docile acceptance of virtually anything she'd wanted to do had left her unprepared for this outburst.
Now, her mother shifted into high gear.
She was taking more careful aim, and several sharp blows landed right on Patsy's face.
The girl felt like she had her back against the wall, and the only thing she knew to do was to fight back.
She started to kick, landed a couple of good ones right onto her mother's shins.
"You brat. You stupid BRAT!! ! "
Suddenly, Patsy was lost in a blizzard of hands and feet, all of them seeming to strike her at once. She started to cry. Her body was hurting badly, and she still wasn't sure that she could understand why it was happening. Mother's aren't supposed to behave like this. They were supposed to keep their mouths shut and take whatever you gave them.
"You've been getting out of hand far too long, you little monster, and now I'm going to show you a thing or two."
Patsy was stunned by her mother's fury, and also by the woman's strength.
She had her daughter in a hammer lock now and there was nothing that Patsy could do to break loose. Her mother started to hit her on the face again, and also on the exposed parts of her body, striking her breasts once or twice.
"Mom, please, you're hurting me. Stop it. Stop it STOP IT!! ! "
But Mrs. Devlin couldn't stop. She was releasing years of pent up frustration against her daughter, and against her husband who seemed to care nothing about either of them.
It was a miserable life, and the ultimate indignity had been having to come here to Multon, a nothing town with nothing people, and even though her husband was the manager the new plant for MagnaDyne that had opened up here, and they were among the most affluent in the county, she didn't like the feeling of being a big fish in a little pond.
She yearned for the glamour of Los Angeles again, for the sun and the surf, and the magically tanned bodies of young men, all of whom were more than willing to take a turn with an older woman who cared nothing about attachments....
The only young men here still had cow shit on their boots. It was distressing as hell.
And now, here was this multicolored little bitch who dared to call herself a product of Angela Devlin's womb ... well, if that was the case, this little bitch was going to do some changing, and pretty damn fast. It was long over due.
She had Patsy clamped against the chair in the living room, with her arms pinned behind her.
"You've got a bad attitude, little girl. Do you know that? You've got a very bad attitude indeed. Do you hear me?"
Patsy spit at her.
Angela slapped her face as hard as she could.
Patsy spit again.
Angela slapped her again.
Once again, Patsy spit, although she was losing some of the force that she'd had before.
Angela hit her again, this time with more of her fist.
Patsy started to cry.
"Oh, now you're crying, wanting my sympathy, is that it. Well, you little monster, if you ever want my sympathy again, you're going to ask for it. Do you understand me?"
"I'm sorry, mom," said Patsy.
"Bullshit."
Patsy's eyes widened. It had never occurred to her that her mother was anything other than the prim, reserved lady she seemed to be around family.
"You're not sorry. Not a bit. But I promise you, you're going to be. Do you hear me, you're going to be very sorry. I'm sick and tired of you talking back to me."
She began to slap Patsy without letup now, and the girl went hysterical, screaming and squirming, trying to break free.
It was futile. Angela Devlin wasn't a member of a health spa for nothing. Every day for the past ten years, she'd gone in for her daily work-out, and now, at the age of forty-three, she was in better shape than many girls half her age. She knew it, and she was proud of it. When she looked in the mirror, she saw no where near the amount of lines she'd been afraid that she might see at her age. Her skin was a clear, smooth texture, and her face and not the faintest hint of a sag to it.
Neither did her breasts.
The only bleak element in her life, was the fact that she had a lousy family to deal with. A husband who was next to impotent and didn't even care, and a daughter who didn't care one way or the other about her.
Well, she was going to change that, and she was going to change that tonight.
Keeping Patsy in a hammerlock, she pulled her stockings off.
Patsy right away suspected something out of the ordinary, and began to struggle even more fiercely.
"Stop it, I mean it, stop this squirming, or you'll really regret it." Patsy refused.
Angela said, "I'm sorry about this, I wish you'd given me some other choice," and then reached down and took one of her daughter's ample breasts in her hand.
She squeezed it just as hard as she could, twisting the soft flesh as she did.
Patsy screamed a bloodcurdling cry of anguish, but her body ceased it's struggle.
She lay there, momentarily collapsed in pain and exhaustion, and Angela seized the moment to bind the girl's wrists behind her back, tight and secure.
Then, with the other stocking, she did the same thing to her ankles.
Patsy lay on the floor, bound tight and helpless.
Angela laughed.
It felt good to see her rebellious daughter lying there, looking up at her with a helpless expression on her face.
"Momma, please, don't do this."
"Ha! You don't even know what I'm going to do yet."
Patsy squirmed against her bonds, but saw that it was useless.
"Please, momma, please...."
Angela was starting to calm down now, and for a moment the implications of her outburst left her dazed. She couldn't believe it. After all these years, swallowing her daughter's shit, keeping quiet when there was so much she wanted to say, she suddenly had done exactly what she'd always dreamed of doing.
And now that she'd done it, she was afraid to confont the fact that she didn't know where to go from here.
My God, she thought, how bizarre. I've won, but I don't know how to make the best of it.
She could hear her daughter whimpering on the floor behind her.
She turned. "Shut up. I mean it. Shut up, or you'll get hurt a lot worse than you are now."
Patsy shut up. It made Angela feel very good to suddenly possess a measure of control over the unruly girl.
But still, something needed to be done. It couldn't be brutal, or else she'd blow her credibility completely. But on the other hand, if she didn't do something that would stick in the girl's memory, then she'd have lost all that she'd unexpectedly gained.
She looked down at her daughter. Her alien looking daughter with her rainbow hair....
That's it! She'd cut it off!! !
No, that would be too brutal. No need to humiliate the poor girl.
But she could certainly dye that shit. By God, that's what she'd do. She'd dye that shit, turn her daughter back into a normal looking human being. Maybe she wouldn't act like it, but she'd damn sure look like it.
The minute Angela slid her arms under Patsy's and started to drag the girl upstairs, she began to scream again.
"You can either shut up, or you can make me gag you."
"Mother, you are sick!! ! DO YOU HEAR ME!! ! SICK!! ! ! ! "
"Fine, I'll gag you."
Which is what Angela proceeded to do.
She even used Patsy's own socks for that added touch of humiliation. She balled one of them up after pulling it off her foot and stuffed it in her mouth. The girl tried to bite Angela, but a few sharp slaps halted that behavior.
Then, she took her upstairs to her own bathroom, made her sit next to the tub, and began to pull out the items necessary.
Patsy, as soon as she saw what was getting ready to take place, bolted and tried to run. She fell, of course, but she wiggled enough that Angela realized some further measures would be called for.
"All right, Patsy, since you insist on making this difficult for both of us...."
She looked around, and saw what was called for.
"Get up. Come on! GET UP!! " Patsy cowered.
Angela was forced to reach down and grab her daughter by her hair, yanking hard as she could until Patsy once again stood up. Hatred filled the girl's eyes.
"Oh yes, I can see you hate me. Don't worry little girl, the feeling is quite mutual, let me tell you."
She then, without a second's thought, tore
Patsy's shirt from her body.
Patsy stared at her in utter horror now, convinced that her mother was going to butcher her any moment.
Then, she tried to remove her shorts, but finding that impossible, and not wanting to untie the girl's legs, she decided to leave them on her.
"Get in the tub."
Patsy did not move.
"I said get in the tub!! "
Patsy still did not move.
Angela reached out and took a nipple in each hand. She began to pinch, starting out lightly, and steadily increasing the pressure until it was excruciating.
Patsy began to shake, but still she did not make a move to get into the tub. Angela continued to pinch her daughter's nipples, finding it much more enjoyable than she would have dared predicted.
Harder and harder, until with a massive jolt, Patsy collapsed, shaking and gasping.
Angela calmly lifted her into the tub, and then she pulled the belt from a robe that was hanging behind the door. It was long, long enough to pass around the stocking that bound her daughter's wrists, and then pass over the bar that held the shower curtain....
Patsy offered no resistance.
When Angela had finished, her daughter was bent far over, with her arms up in the air, unable to move more than a few inches in any direction, for fear that she'd pull her arms out of their sockets.
Angela laughed.
"You'll find that I can be pushed only so far ... " she said, opening the bottle of hair dye, laughing some more....
The doorbell rang. Angela answered it and saw that it was the young man she'd seen driving off today as she'd driven up. Or at least, it looked like him.
He was very polite.
"Um ... you must be Patsy's mother. I was wondering if she might be home."
"Yes she is, but I don't think she'll be wanting to see anyone. She's been ill. Won't you come in though. I'll check."
"Thank you, ma'am. My name's Johnny Swanson."
"Aren't you the quarterback for the high school football team?"
He blushed. "Yes'm. I am."
"I see. And you're coming to see ... Patsy?"
"Well, yes ma'am, that is, if she's able to see anyone."
"I'll check."
Angela walked upstairs, wondering furiously what her daughter was doing with a handsome stud like that. It was definitely not in keeping with her character, or with that of the usual fare of suitor that came around. What was the name of that last moron ... Sot Madden? Lord, what a retarded piece of shit!
She knocked on Patsy's door.
There was no answer.
She turned the doorknob and walked in. Patsy lay on the bed with her back toward Angela. Even from that angle, Angela could see that her daughter's more natural brunette color had taken admirably. The multiple dye might make it a little frizzy, but at least it was better than the splotched patchwork that she'd been wearing.
"There's a Johnny Swanson downstairs. Says he wants to see you."
Patsy turned over slightly.
"He's down there?"
"Um-hmmm. What should I tell him?"
She rolled back.
"Tell him you'd like to fuck him. He's about your speed."
Angela was seized by a flash of anger, and she wanted at that moment to take her daughter apart.
Patsy continued, "You thought I never knew what you were doing behind daddy's back in California? Hell, I knew half the guys you fucked."
Angela was shocked. Somehow, she knew that her daughter was not bluffing. For one thing, she'd been very careful. The only way Patsy would have known....
Oh my God, she thought, what have I done.
Then Patsy turned around. "Look, I don't like Daddy any more than you do. I wouldn't say anything now if I didn't say anything then. I'm not as petty as you are."
She rolled back over. Angela was truly taken aback. Her daughter was full of surprises, it seemed.
"So, you don't want to see him?"
"No. But I'm telling you, if you want to go after him, you ought to. He's real fresh."
"That's enough, Patsy."
"Yes Mother," she said, a bored tone in her voice.
She walked out of her daughter's bedroom, a strange mixture of emotions racing through her. In a sense, it was a great load lifted from her shoulders. She'd always been so frightened of discovery ... to realize that she'd been discovered, and that it had happened long ago ... it was a kind of freedom, actually.
Her daughter knew!
That was incredible. Utterly incredible. Whatever was she going to do about it?
Well, the first thing she was going to do was to get that young man out of her house.
She walked back down, and found herself distracted almost without even realizing it by the sight of his well muscled arms, the thick bulging tendons in his neck ... he was a fine physical specimen. There was no doubt about that.
"Patsy's not feeling well. She says that she's sorry, but she really can't see you tonight."
His disappointment was obvious.
"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that. Do, uh, you think that she'll be in school tomorrow?"
"Well, I don't know. That will depend on how he feels tomorrow, I would think."
He nodded, but seemed reluctant to leave.
"Have you known Patsy for long?"
"Oh, uh, well, sure. I mean, since she moved here and all ... but we didn't actually get to be friends till, uh, recently, uh, that is...."
"I see." Angela lit a cigarette. "Recently being ... today?"
He started to look very uncomfortable.
"Well, uh, I mean, that is...."
"Today," Angela answered for him.
"Well, yes. I mean, we'd never gone out on a date or anything, and uh, well, like I said, we sort of got to know each other better today and I just wanted to see if she might like to, uh, go get a soda ... or something like that."
Angela started to laugh.
"Young man, getting a soda was a dubious cover story when I was a little girl. I seriously doubt that they even have genuine sodas any more. Tell me, where are your wits."
"Ma'am?"
"Oh cut it out. Are you screwing my daughter or aren't you?" His mouth hit his lap.
"Why the surprise. I'm sure you found my daughter to be somewhat progressive. Am I right? Well, does it surprise you that she comes from a progressive household?"
Johnny looked like a fish out of water.
"Your embarrassment is showing. Maybe you'd better go. I don't want to make you uncomfortable. But in the future, if you're going to come for my daughter to take her out and fuck her, you should lay your groundwork a lot better."
Johnny seemed hopelessly confused.
Angela paused a moment. "Would you like something to drink."
"Ma'am?"
"Oh, give me a break. Don't you have any other reply than that? I've never gotten used to this phony Southern gentility."
Poor Johnny. He was no match for Patsy, but against her mother, he was an utter wreck.
"Well, do you want a drink or don't you. You aren't going to bullshit me about not drinking, are you? I know all you jocks drink. It makes you think you're men. Am I right?"
"Listen, I have to go, I think."
"Maybe. But I'd be willing to bet that you won't. You're too interested in finding out what's on my mind. It's even occurred to you that I may be making a pass at you, and if you want to know the honest truth, you may be right."
"Ma'am?"
He was completely out of his element now.
"Oh, I'm not saying that I'd ever actually let anything take place between us ... but don't try to kid me into thinking that you wouldn't take advantage of the situation if I offered it."
She purposely moved very close to him. "Would you?"
"Urn ... I have to go."
"Bathroom's down the hall to your right."
"Ma'am?"
"Ma'am!! ! ! Ma'am!! ! MA'AM MA'AM MA'AM!! ! Cut it out, would you"
He looked utterly lost. "I don't understand...."
"You know, you are one of the most humorless young men that I've ever met. Whatever made my daughter want to fuck you?"
"I'll tell you what," said Patsy from the doorway. "He was over here hoping he could fuck Suzie, and I wanted to prove that I could get someone away from her."
Angela looked at Johnny. "You thought you could get my other daughter into bed? Nonsense. No one gets her into bed. She's in training to be a nun."
Patsy regarded her mother with open curiosity.
Johnny was staring at her hair.
"What happened...."
"To my hair? I had a little accident," she said, sitting down next to Angela, who was regarding her daughter with a mixture of confusion and respect.
"I think I'd better go."
"Why," asked Patsy, "things are just getting interesting, don't you think?"
Patsy turned to Angela. "Didn't I tell you? He's just your type."
Angela grinned, after a moment's hesitation. "You know, I think you might just be Tight."
Angela stared at Patsy with a mixture of shock and pleasure. My God, she thought, it's true. All you need to do to get your children's respect is to show them who's boss. She'd never expected the transformation to be so quick, or so seemingly total, but there was no doubt in her mind that the look in Patsy's eye was one that had not been there for years. The girl was staring back at her, and for the first time that Angela could remember, Patsy didn't look like she was bored, annoyed, disgusted, or trying to plot something.
Of couse, she may just have been turned on by the idea of the two of them seducing this rather timid looking quarterback, come to think of it. That would appeal to Patsy's kinks in a way that mere rebellion could never do.
It didn't matter. What did matter was the fact that, for whatever the reason, Angela found herself intrigued by the idea. Utterly intrigued.
She had a flashback ... to Los Angeles, to sun, to white sand, to bronzed bodies and brick-like muscles.
She remembered herself, looking ten years younger than her thirty-eight, or thirty-nine or forty years ... wearing the smallest bikinis that the law would let her get away with.
It was always so easy to pick one of them up. They're attention was already guaranteed. There was nothing that she needed to do; no eye contact that needed to be established, no come on. The incredibly tiny patch of material covering her crotch, surrounded by smooth, tanned, clean flesh, could only mean that she shaved her pussy. That alone was enough to raise eyebrows and attract attention. For why else would a woman go to the trouble of shaving her pussy, and then being so obvious about it, if she hadn't intended it as bait?
But her breasts, scarcely contained behind the thin straps and small bits of material (large enough to cover her nipples, but not much else) were the final payoff.
She would simply walk down the beach, checking out the bodies from behind the protective shades that she wore (tinted a jet black), and when she saw one that particularly appealed to her, and that seemed to be particularly fascinated by her outfit, she would merely drop something ... it seldom mattered what. The point was to pop out of the halter, something that took virtually no prompting whatsoever.
That was usually all it took. Then, when she was absolutely certain that they were staring, and hard, she would walk right up to them. Occasionally, that would prove to be too direct an assault, but those were not the men she'd be interested in anyway. The ones she wanted were ripe, ready for action, and sporting enormous bulges beneath their briefs, bulges that they were not afraid to show off. When you're in the market for sex, you go for the proven product. It's the only method.
"Excuse me," she would say, a small self-deprecating grin on her face, "but I seem to have locked myself out of my car. I don't know if I left my keys inside there or what, but I have an extra set hidden under my front seat. You don't suppose you could help me break into my car, do you?"
Sometime during the course of having a coat hanger stuck between the side window, and actually springing the lock, an embarrassed discovery would take place.
"Oh my God, do I feel silly. You're not going to believe this...."
At least she hoped they wouldn't believe it. Anyone stupid enough to believe that the whole thing had been an accident was not the type that appealed to her.
They never did. Would they care for ... perhaps a drink, just out of gratitude for their trouble? They always accepted. It became a ritual, one not practiced often, but one that she got amazingly adept at performing.
She made appearances too seldom to become a recognized fixture. Each new encounter had always been new, unexpected, and anonymous. That's the way she'd liked it.
But of course, she had two daughters and a husband to worry about, too. She couldn't very well just flaunt such behavior, not if she wanted to keep her lifestyle.
But now, one of those reasons was a partner in the deed ... that altered the equation somewhat. But she still felt a little strange, actually sitting in her living room contemplating a combined seduction with her daughter. It made no sense. For that very reason, it appealed to her sense of the absurd. It made her giddy. It made her body tingle with the thrill of doing the unheard of, of performing the unthinkable act.
In a town like Multon, Fla., there were a lot of unthinkable acts. That's what made it all the more fun. There were so many ways that one could play with fire here, if that's what was preferred.
Johnny Swanson was making moves to get up and leave.
"Please," said Angela, glancing once more at Patsy to make certain that she read her daughter's intentions correctly, "don't leave just yet. We really would like you to stay."
"Listen, Patsy," said Johnny, ignoring Mrs. Devlin, "Let's just call all this off. I'm sorry about today if that upset you, but I don't think this is very funny. Not at all."
"Don't think what's very funny?" asked the girl innocently.
"Tell me about today, Patsy," said Mrs. Devlin, well aware that that was the question that had originally made things between them blow as badly as they did.
Patsy now grinned devilishly. "I just showed Johnny a few things that he'd never thought about before."
Johnny looked shocked. "What, do you tell your old lady everything?"
"My 'old lady', as you put it, could shock you right out of your skin, I'll bet."
Angela realized that Patsy was speaking with a tone of awe and respect in her voice. How amazing. The one side of her nature that she'd always been scrupulous about hiding from her daughter was the one that succeeded best in gaining her respect.
"Look, I'm just going to leave, if that's all right with you two ladies...."
Johnny was backing up now, inching towards the door, a look of uncertainty and fear on his face. Angela felt it necessary to reassure him.
She also felt it necessary to physically lure him.
She stood up, and quickly moving around behind the chair that Johnny had been sitting in, effectively cut him off from any further escape from the room. He started to look actually frightened.
"Look, I don't know what all this is about, but honest to God, I didn't hurt your daughter." He looked back at Patsy, eyes wide with fear. "Tell her. Go on. Tell her that you forced it. You wouldn't let me leave. Go on, tell her."
He was getting a little hysterical now, and Patsy looked a little confused herself.
"Johnny, what are rattling on about? She knows you didn't hurt me, and take my word for it, she can tell that I initiated anything that went on between us. You miss the point entirely."
Angela, standing between Johnny and the front door spoke. "Johnny, if you really want to go, you can. We won't stop you. But I'm going to speak frankly, and I'd like you to listen to me, very closely."
He stared, seeming to be mesmerized by the sound of her voice. "Are you listening?"
Johnny nodded.
Patsy giggled when he nodded.
"What's funny," he asked her, indignantly.
"I think you already know."
"That's it. I don't need this," he said, and turned around to go. Angela blocked the doorway. She was not going to let him pass. At that moment, her mind was somewhat confused as to what the best approach would be, but she knew that she was going to have to do something that would short circuit the anger and fear that was propelling him out the door.
She began to unbutton her blouse, talking all the while.
"Johnny, I get the impression that my daughter gave you an experience today that you might not have been very familiar with. I get the impression that you feel a little strange about it ... you shouldn't. There's absolutely nothing at all that's unhealthy about exploring your body and discovering the joy of sexual experience. It's a God-given joy that should not be denied."
Her blouse, though still tucked into her skirt, was now unbuttoned to the waist. Johnny moaned as he watched her flesh grow more and more exposed.
The two fleshy mounds of her breasts bobbled into view, although the folds of her opened blouse, held in place by the waistband of her skirt, remained partially closed around them. But Johnny knew exactly what was going on underneath the material. The knowledge was giving him a very intense hard-on. It bulged through his jeans, sticking out very prominently, and what looked to be very painfully.
"Johnny, like I said, "Angela went on, "you're free to leave. But I think you'll be denying yourself of an experience that some men go their entire lives without enjoying. Although they all dream of it. Haven't you, one time or another? Haven't you wanted to make love to two women, satisfying them both at the same time? Can you imagine it?"
She opened her blouse, and began to toy with the catch on her bra, between her two breasts. Johnny's eyes were riveted to her fingers, and he seemed to almost lick his lips in anticipation. He wanted to see that bra pop open. He wanted to see those two breasts pop into view. He wasn't going anyplace until he did, either, and Angela would have bet hard cash on that.
"Can't you imagine the feeling it would give you? This is something I'd bet your father hasn't even done, Johnny, and I'll bet he'd love to."
Patsy thought of cold, staid, sterile Mr. Swanson in history class, and wanted to laugh. But she'd already learned how Johnny reacted to laughter when he was trying to get aroused. The man simply had no sense of humor when it came to sex.
Angela popped the catch on the two large cups that held her breasts in place.
Johnny's eyes widened even more, as he waited to see them bouncing free ... but she held them together with her hand, as she continued to speak to the boy.
"What do you want to do, Johnny? Do you want to leave? Is that what you want to do?"
Behind him, still on the couch, Patsy watched all this unfold with obvious glee. Talk about violating your taboos!! This was the all time grand slam, as far as she was concerned. She'd no idea her mom was such a horny, hip lady. But boy! She sure was handling this guy, and doing a first rate job.
She felt that the time was right for her to enter the conversation, but she was afraid that Johnny would think they were ganging up on him, and really bolt.
But she was getting quite caught up in the erotic atmosphere, perticularly watching her mother slowly disrobe like that and entice Johnny more and more. It was clear that she'd done the job. Johnny was totally in her spell. But then, he was also in her own spell. She mustn't forget that. That's the reason the lunk came back tonight. He couldn't wait even a day. He was hot and horny, and there was no two ways about it.
Well, then, if it would frighten the poor fool to have the two of them gang up on him, why not do something that would make him even hornier?
She slowly unzipped her jeans and loosened the material, pulling them down her thighs just enough to make sure that she could get her hand between them.
Angela saw what she was doing, looked her daughter in the eyes, again feeling a sense of strange joy that the two of them could be fulfilling such a twisted fantasy together. The evening had already been the most bizarre she'd ever spent in her life, but it wasn't over yet, not by any means.
Not if they had their way.
She let the cups of her bra fall apart, and as her breasts popped out and bobbed gently on her body, she lowered the material of her blouse, pulling it down her shoulders, finally slipping her arms out and letting it hang from her waist. The straps of her bra were next, and she let them fall down her firm, naked shoulders, and let it drop to the floor.
She gave them a pert shake, and Johnny was done in. It was all over, as far as he was concerned. Angela could see it, Patsy could see it, and if he couldn't see it yet, he would soon enough.
Angela stepped up to the boy and draped her arms over his shoulders.
"Johnny, I want you to just relax. This is going to be the most memorable evening you've ever spent, and if you live another fifty, years, I can confidently say that you'll have a hard time topping it."
He licked his lips, trying to moisten them. They seemed to have dried out from the tension.
She felt the thick muscles in his shoulders, all knotted and solid ... she knew that he was well developed, and that his muscle tone was supposed to be good, but this was purely from tension. The boy was one clenched knuckle.
She let her fingers begin a soft pressing motion against what felt to be the hardest cord of muscle, running almost along the entire width of his shoulders.
"Mmmmmmmm, that feels so tense, so full of tension ... you really should just relax, take it easy, let yourself unwind...."
She began to knead the hard muscle like it was a piece of dough. "Yes ... I feel how hard it is. You're in great shape, did you know that ... but you shouldn't let yourself get so worked up."
"Mom," said Patsy, and Johnny's attention momentarily flagged as he glanced back to the girl who'd deflowered him that very afternoon, "I can think of one muscle that you'll want to keep hard."
Angela grinned impishly. "Ah yes. The muscle of love. How is that muscle," she asked Johnny, reaching down between his legs. She pressed the flat of her palm against his jeans, and felt the point where his glans, sticking straight out from his body, was jammed tight against his thick denim pants.
"Ummmmm, isn't that a little uncomfortable?" she asked him.
Still not really able to figure out what was going on. Johnny nodded.
"He doesn't talk much Mom," Patsy said, giggling again, but with none of the taunting flavor or her earlier teasings that she'd subjected the boy to. "He just sort of stands there and watches."
"Oh ... well, in that case, why don't we let him watch something that will do him some good."
Patsy understood what her mom was talking about right away.
She started to pull her jeans down even further. Johnny was staring at her now, watching her head, for the most part. Patsy had almost forgotten the violent scene that had taken place between her and her mother earlier that afternoon.
The fact that they were getting ready to have such a good time together was something that she'd never have thought possible. Most likely it was the way her mom had reacted when she'd shot that crack at her about fucking all those beach bums in LA. It was something that she'd never known how to bring up with her mother, and now that it was out in the open, it seemed all of a sudden that they had some common ground. Hell, they'd even fucked some of the same guys! And now, they were getting ready to formalize the situation. It was exciting. There was no other way to look at it. It was darned exciting.
She pulled her jeans down past her knees. For some reason, she put on a pair of underwear that evening, after finally drying off from the shower that she'd had to take after getting her hair dried. Her arms still hurt a little, and so did her cheeks, but her mother hadn't hit her as hard as it had felt like at the time ... most likely, the only thing that had been really hurt had been her pride.
She wiggled out of her jeans now, and felt Johnny's eyes boring into her crotch. The poor fool. He didn't have a chance. It was a little cruel to be treating him like this, but he must have been horny as hell. To stumble upon such a sex-feast, was something that no male could refuse, particularly one who was just waking up to the world of fucking.
Angela stood behind Johnny now, and wrapped her arms around his waist and started to unbutton his shirt.
He offered no resistance at all. Not knowing what to say, he seemed to be content to say nothing.
That was, as a matter-of-fact, fine with Patsy. She found him intellectually vapid, and much better to simply watch than to have to listen to.
Angela now had his shirt off.
"Oh my," she said enthusiastically, would you look at this chest."
She stepped around to the front of him and gazed appreciatively at his well structured chest. She let her fingers roam freely over the surface of his skin, playing a little with his chest hairs, tickling his nipples.
"You're a very well built young man," she said, repeating herself, but she felt that it might be necessary to give Jlim a little confidence. He was inexperienced and had seemed to genuinely distrust their motives. Best to just let him know up front that there was only one reason for this scene ... that was to get all three of them laid. Fully, completely, and with as little confusion as possible. She recalled how easily she'd managed to pull it off in California. This was all the way across the country, but she had no reason to suspect that it would be any more difficult here. Not if he was willing.
Which, he seemed to be.
His eyes kept jumping from her bulbous breasts, swaying gently with every move her body made, to Patsy's crotch, the black hairs showing through her sheer panties. Angela had a quick flash of her husband coming home ... or Suzie. It would never do, for either one of them to walk in. Thank God her husband was away on a business trip and Suzie was at the library. She always stayed out late on
Wednesdays, and then usually went over to her friend's house and just spent the night there, since it was right across the street from the school. Angela had never believed in keeping a tight rein on her children, no matter what it was that they wanted to do. It was far better that way. Maybe they'd get themselves in trouble, but it was the best way for them to learn.
She reached down to Johnny's crotch, unbuckled his belt and pulled his zipper down. His cock seemed to be straining hard for room, and she imagined that it must have been quite painful for him. How did they do it, she wondered. How did young boys get along with those awkward, clumsy things, with their erections popping up at all kinds of odd moments during the day, and their balls always feeling like they needed to be emptied. It was something that she'd never understood, the male genitalia, but she'd always been grateful for it.
Johnny's cock now poked through his zipper like a battering ram. The head was swollen, and a deep purple in color. She unbuttoned his jeans and gently pulled them down his legs.
"Urn ... " he interjected, uncertainly.
"Yes?" asked Angela, looking up at him with a smile.
"Is this ... I mean ... are you sure this is ... I mean ... all shucks, I don't know what I mean."
"We know," said Patsy, standing up and taking her shirt off. "Isn't it lucky for you that we do?"
Patsy's perky little titties sprung out from under her shirt as though they were on springs.
And Johnny's cock seemed to have a spring coiled tight near the base of it. With luck he'd feel that spring twang, like a snapping G-string.