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All Characters In This Story Are 18+ Years Old
Saturday, December 22, 1962
In the Palm Court restaurant at the Plaza Hotel, eighteen-year-old Patricia Maxon and her thirty-eight-year-old stepfather, Phil, were finishing breakfast after their planned daytrip to New York City to shop for Christmas had become an unplanned overnight stay because of an unexpectedly severe winter storm. Besides being married to Patricia’s mom for the past ten years, Phil was also Patricia’s deceased dad’s twin brother. In the course of their evening, during the night, and yet again that morning when they wakened, Phil had discharged his parental and avuncular duties by discharging his semen in mass quantities multiple times into the sweet teen’s formerly virgin vagina. Now, over eggs Benedict, orange juice, coffee and hot chocolate, she had just informed him, very confidentially, that she was precisely midway into her menstrual cycle.
Patricia truly loved Phil. She also loved that she had given him her maidenhood and that he had fucked her silly, but she wondered how likely it might be that he had impregnated her. When he helped her to understand that even under the most optimal fertility conditions, pregnancy only occurs about eight or nine percent of the time, she felt oddly conflicted. Babies had been inexplicably in the forefront of her mind ever since she saw an enormously pregnant woman on the MTA coming into The City Friday morning. Now, she did not know whether to hope her period would come on in two weeks, or to hope it would not.
Upon hearing the news, Phil had his own thoughts, after he shouted at himself, “Damn, Damn, Damn! How could you be so stupid?” He optimistically estimated that Patricia had not been nailed, since he had, after all, used a rubber the first time, and that was in his favor as well as the general odds. Sighing inwardly, he resigned himself to the fact that only time would tell if his baby-making juice had done its job. As he sipped his coffee, he reflected on his old WWII sergeant’s philosophy, “Hope for the best but prepare for the worst.”
Phil squeezed Patricia’s hand reassuringly and said, “C’mon, Trixie, let’s take care of our bill and get back to Westport. You’ll feel better about all of this when we’re home again. I know it!”
Patricia nodded, dabbed her napkin at her eye corners and said, “Okay, Uncle Phil. But I’m not going to breathe a word about any of this to anyone. Ever. And especially not to Mom!”
Signaling their waiter, Phil agreed, solemnly, “Me neither, honey. It’s our secret.”
While Phil worried how his fucking, and possibly impregnating, Patricia would impact his marriage, twenty-two-year-old Becky Barnes was eating a bagel and wondering how he would accept her breaking off their nearly two-years-long affair. She still very much liked him and being with him: He was an excellent lover and, since August when he hired her as his personal assistant, he was also a very good boss. What he was not, however, was her own age and this was becoming increasingly bothersome. She wanted to get married, have kids, and be primary to a man, rather than be just his away-from-home fuck, or under-the-desk blowjob.
Reaching across the table in the Soho delicatessen, Becky took twenty-three-year-old Kevin Horton’s hand in hers and smiled as she thought, “Maybe he’s the one.” Aloud, but not very loudly, she said, “I’m glad the snow stopped and the cabs were running. Take me home, I want to fuck you until Spring!” Laughing her unique tinkling laugh, she added, “Or, at least until I have to go to work tomorrow!”
Meanwhile, in Westport, Becky’s eighteen-year-old brother, Barney, was drilling Patricia’s mother on her walnut pool table’s scarlet baize felted slate. He remembered how much she liked it when he thrust deep, then flexed against her cunt roof while he slowly withdrew before plunging fast and furious to his limit again. With her arms flopped over her head, among scattered rolling pool balls, four glorious sequential orgasms overwhelmed her. She could not remember the last time Phil had filled her and pushed her over the edge like this young stud was now doing.
As volley upon volley of virile vitality vacated Barney’s nuts for Roberta’s warm welcoming womb, she bleated, moaned and agonized deliriously, “Will it ever stop? Oh, PLEASE God, don’t let it stop!”
Half-an-hour later, with her hair disheveled and her Fifth Avenue Red lipstick all but gone from her mouth, Roberta watched Barney pull on his boots as he prepared to return to his home next-door. She felt both satisfied and needy; elated and sad. She wondered, “How can I make this happen again, and again?”
Weirdly released from his sorceress’ spell, Barney shyly kissed Roberta’s right cheek and mumbled, “Thanks for the cocoa, Mrs. M. I’m, uh,… ” Whatever he was going to say melted like a dream in daylight. As he scuffed one boot toe against the other, he said quickly, “I…I gotta go. Mom’s waiting for me.” Not wanting to hear her own voice break, she nodded that she understood, held open the door, then watched Bomonti Escort him as he picked up his aluminum snow scoop from the porch and trudged down the sidewalk he had scraped for her an hour-and-a-half ago.
In between houses, and out of anyone’s sight, Barney knelt by a snowbank. Picking up a generous handful, he slathered the icy melt all over his face and vigorously rubbed until his cheeks were numb. At his own back door, he looked into its dark mirroring mullioned window panes and satisfied himself that all traces of Roberta’s lipstick were gone; the cold rosiness in his face would cover for other blotchiness that remained from her avid kisses. As he turned the doorknob he took a deep breath, put on what Coach Davis called a ‘game face’, then entered the house hoping his mother would not think it strange that he needed another shower.
Two hours earlier, while Roberta Maxon set her kitchen aright after preparing her special cocoa recipe, forty-one-year-old Judith Barnes’ weatherized son had stepped from their house into the bitter cold, but clear, winter morning. At the sink, while she rinsed away egg bits and then loaded the breakfast dishes into her roll-away dishwasher, she had watched him collect his snow shovel from the garage. Once again, she felt a pang in her heart and tugged her upper lip over her teeth as she closed her eyes. Not minding that her hands were wet from the faucet’s running water, she left her coffee cup on the drainboard, inhaled deeply, then touched herself high and low.
Judith was proud of Barney’s unselfish willingness to shovel the snow plow’s mess away from the Maxons’ driveway as well as their own, but she could not help her other competing feelings. Whether right, or wrong, it was a plain fact that her own boy had fucked her twice and made her come alive as a woman in a way that she had not known for a long, long time. She knew it was irrational, but she resented losing him, even for a brief time while he performed a mundane good deed. Her pussy twinged as she thought of things that her son could do for her.
Judith’s already moistening cunt dampened further, externally as well as internally, as she pressed her undried right hand onto it between her quilted satin periwinkle bathrobe’s opening folds. Likewise her dripping left hand, inserted beneath the brighter lavender smooth satin lapels, wetly slid her flower-patterned white flannel nightie across her aching right breast. She shuddered as she simultaneously tweaked her plumped hard nipple and reactive clitoris. Jolting electric currents raced toward each other and collided deep in her abdomen.
When Barney snicked the back door closed behind him, the kitchen was empty and silent except for the owl-clock’s clicking eyeballs as it ticked away the seconds. After parking his rubber boots against the baseboard, he hung his parka and knit cap on a wall rack peg above them, then turned to head for his bedroom. Halfway up the stairs, he saw his mother with her hands on the hall railing as she peered down at him and said, “Hi, BeeBee. I thought I heard you rustling around in the kitchen. Did Mrs. Maxon like what you did for her?”
Cagily, Barney admitted, “Yeah, I think so. At least, she didn’t complain.”
Judith walked along the upper bannister and met Barney as he stepped to the landing near his bedroom door. “Well, I should think she wouldn’t,” she opined. Then, as she looked him over more closely, she declared, “Why, BeeBee! You’re still flushed! You aren’t feeling unwell, are you? And, my goodness, look… Your fly is undone! However did that happen?”
Barney stared at his crotch, aghast, and stumbled, “Uhm, I… uh, don’t know. I guess I forgot to zip up?”
Judith stepped forward and replied, “Obviously. Well, it doesn’t matter, I suppose. Apparently Mrs. Maxon didn’t notice or, like any mother would, she would have said something.” Then, in a maternal manner of her own, she pulled his zipper tab back to the top. Meanwhile, in a definitely unmaternal manner, she allowed her trailing little finger to brush against his package as she closed his fly. He rolled his eyes and suppressed a groan.
Smiling, Judith kissed Barney’s nose and asked, “That’s better, now, isn’t it?” Then, sniffing him, she said in a no-nonsense tone, “You need another shower, young man! You must have had quite a work out!”
Barney nodded and answered, “The berms the snow plow made were ice, Mom. It was really hard to break them up and clear them away. Sorry I’m stinky. I’ll go shower right now.”
Judith wiggled Barney’s cheek between her thumb and index finger as she beamed, “Fine. But use my bathroom.” Winking, she grinned and reminded him, “We used up the towels in your bathroom, remember?”
“I remember, Mom,” Barney mumbled as he slipped around Judith and obediently walked the corridor to the master bedroom. In its baby-blue-and-cream themed bathroom, he closed the door, stripped down and stepped into the shower cubicle. He was glad to find the water heater had already Bostancı Escort recovered from running cold while he fucked his mother to a standstill three hours earlier.
On the bathroom door’s other side, Judith heard its lock turn. She chuckled softly, then called through the wood panel, “Don’t put those smelly clothes back on after you shower, BeeBee. Use the terry robe hanging on the door hook.” Barney’s reply was muffled by the sound of the shower spray beginning.
Judith went to her maple double bed and pulled back the covers on the fresh sheets she had changed out while her son was being neighborly at Mrs. Maxon’s house. Then, opening the cedar chest at the bed’s foot, she pulled out a sexy ice-blue nylon nightie which, with no reason to be the least bit sexy since she divorced Ralph in 1956, she typically wore only on the hottest summer nights. “No reason to be sexy until now, that is,” she thought smugly as she laid the gown and her lavender-blue satin robe across her turned-down bed.
Stepping over to the bathroom door again, Judith raised her flannel nightgown over her head and dumped it in a heap on the carpet by the wall. She looked at her mature 35-28-36 figure in the full-length dressing mirror hung on the door and appraised herself critically. “You don’t look so bad for forty-one, Dear,” she said to herself. She hefted her breasts, then turned about and spanked her soft bottom smartly on both sides as she looked over her shoulder at her reflection and thought, “You’re curvy and firm, with just the right amount of extra oomph. It’s no wonder that BeeBee got excited when he saw you sleeping.”
Returning to the bed, Judith slipped into her summer nightie and adjusted its draped deep ‘V’ neckline so that her full C-cup boobs were centered nicely behind the sheer flower-patterned lace. She deliberately pinched her caramel-color nipples until they stood stiffly against their inefficiently flimsy cover. At her dresser, she applied the Bésame Exotic Pink lipstick she had bought for herself on a whim for her birthday, but had never used. Then, picking up an atomizer filled with Angelique White Satin spray cologne, she spritzed a squirt on either side of her neck behind her jaw joints and a third shot, for good measure, at the base of her décolletage, precisely on her sternum’s xiphoid process where she hoped it would have its greatest potential effect.
Judith had just finished covering her surprise for Barney, by loosely knotting the brighter smooth satin sash on her pastel robe, when he entered the room after his shower. Clean-scrubbed and mostly dry, he wore his mother’s terrycloth robe as he had been instructed. Stepping up to her boy, she clucked, “Mmmm, don’t you smell fresh, now!” She kissed him warmly and nestled herself against his hard chest behind the nubby cotton.
Barney pulled back from Judith’s unmotherly kiss with mixed reluctance and guilt. He protested, weakly, “M-mom? Really? Again?”
Judith spread the white robe above its belt and pushed her hands firmly across Barney’s developed pectoral muscles as she replied, breathily, “Sometimes, BeeBee, a person picks up a new book and reads a page or two, and then just can’t put it down. It’s like that for me, with you, today.” She leaned in and kissed his neck, then his chin and finally pecked his lips before she continued, “You want to be good to your mother, don’t you?” Dropping her right hand below the terrycloth sash, she slid through the opening folds, cupped his balls up against his hardening dick and breezed, “It certainly seems to me that you do.”
Barney groaned as Judith played with his nuts and cock. Her closeness brought her sweet flowery elegant perfume to his nose and filled his head as his rushing blood filled his traitorous penis. While she pumped his prick, she flicked and scraped his stony right nipple with her left forefinger’s red enameled nail edge. Feeling dizzy, queasy, and oddly parched, he clutched her upper arms as he widened his stance to keep from keeling over.
“You’re teetering, Son,” Judith buzzed into Barney’s left ear. “Maybe you overexerted yourself with those hard icy berms.” Looking down between her elbows, she saw his full-size eight-inch ice-hard erection stand proudly on its own as she uncurled her fist and then squeezed it closed again on his near-side ass cheek. “Lay down on the bed, BeeBee,” she gently ordered. “Let Mom nurse you.”
Sliding her left hand behind Barney’s back, Judith pulled him with her, as she walked backward. At the mattress edge, she turned him about-face then guided him while he obediently lay back on the cool bottom sheet. She smiled broadly and clinically studied his naked athletic body supine on her spread out rough white terry robe against the ironed smooth white linen sheet. The morning sun rays through her near dormer window illumined his angled fat pointer and cast a long shadow on the sandy down trail across his gut to his navel.
Barney lay still, with his neck raised and his head propped on the pillow Esenyurt Escort on Judith’s side of the bed. He swallowed with difficulty around his arid Adam’s apple as he watched his mother untie her shiny belt, then shoulder-roll her opened robe’s sleeves down her arms to remove it completely. Her belly undulated one way, while her hips shifted the opposite direction and her breasts jiggled perilously within her pale blue gown’s lace pockets. From her brown areolae, with their prominent poking peaks, to her slight pot above her untrimmed, but naturally sparse, shaded butterscotch muff, there was nothing he could not see, and yet, the sheer nylon lent an unfathomable mystery which made his chest swell and his temples pound.
Judith’s pendant jugs swung in their fragile hammocks while she carefully folded her robe and laid it across the cedar chest’s lid. She felt a thrill run along her spine as she saw Barney’s balls roll in their hairy loose bag and his dick wiggle. Stepping around to the head of the bed, she took his lax left hand and pressed it through her negligee against her Mound of Venus. His eyes glinted.
Judith purred, “Can you feel what you do to me, BeeBee? You make my insides melt.” Crowding him, she raised her nightie hem to her waist and thrust his hand between her inner thighs. He involuntarily licked his papyrus-dry lips as he stared at the beading dew glistening in her curly bush. “That’s right, Honey,” she said huskily. “My honey is here just for you.”
Barney happily let his mother control his hand. She pushed it down over her thin separating outer labia to her dripping winking vaginal os. He turned his wrist in her grip and stuffed his first two fingers, past their second knuckles, into her. She sucked in a deep breath as her pussy sucked his digits deeper in.
“Mmmm, that’s nice, BeeBee,” she murmured. “But Mom needs something more. Kiss me.”
Barney began to raise up on his left elbow as Judith leaned toward the bed. She surprised him, however, when she climbed onto the mattress, facing his knees with her shins straddled on either side of his arms. His left fingers were still curled in her twat, but suddenly her broad bare bottom was only inches above his nose. Her redolent sex-scent pervaded his lungs and drove him wild.
With no more thought than a sneeze, Barney lifted his shoulders from the bed, held himself steady with his right hand firmly grasping Judith’s right quadriceps, and buried his nostrils in the deep crack between her anus and his other hand. She pushed back against him, lowered her hips and drove his fingers web-deep into her cunny as he nuzzled north toward her coccyx while his lips landed on her rosebud. “Oh, yes, right there, BeeBee,” she soughed. “Kiss my bottom. Lick my juicy juice!”
Barney intuitively stabbed his tongue through his mother’s tan iris as he smacked his pursed mouth on the surrounding tight wrinkled rim. Her salt made him thirsty. Removing his left hand to her other thigh, he pulled himself closer and dredged her perineum to her leaking hole where he lapped her liquor. She moaned and mewled as he slaked himself in her slot.
While Barney busily ate her beaver, Judith flattened her chest onto his rippling abdominal muscles and nursed his cock as she had promised. Taking its head into her mouth like a jumbo marshmallow, she raked her teeth lightly on the following sturdy stalk until the velvet glans had slipped well past her gag reflex and was lodged deep in her throat. She held him there briefly while she wuffled her cheeks and compressed his rigid rod as much as she could against her hard palate. Then, slowly, she retreated and inhaled through her nose as the fat bulb slid back to her gums.
Barney reflexively hitched his pelvis and simultaneously shoved his pubes against Judith’s lips while he stuffed his tongue further yet into her nectar’s source. She shook in his hands and came on his cheeks. Inconceivable pressure built through his body. Already as deeply imbedded in her as possible, he crunched his abs against her tits, slammed his nuts on her chin and vised her creaming cunt to his hermetically sealed mouth while he shot his wad straight down her gullet.
Judith raised her head from her son’s spitting dick, swallowed and swiftly knee-walked away from his leg-hold. Quickly, she braced her hands on his ankles and sat back onto his cement spire, while her orgasm continued unabated. “Now, BeeBee,” she coached. “Take your time. Love me slow and long.”
Barney moved his hands to Judith’s love handles and held her. While she stirred her bottom, and raised herself up and down a few inches on his undying ardor, he considered the prodigious load he had dumped in Mrs. Maxon, on top of her pool table, less than an hour ago. Frankly amazed that he had had anything left in his balls for his mom to suck out, he exclaimed to himself, “And now she wants me to fuck her!”
Even though his erection was as strong as ever, Barney had serious doubts that he could measure up to his mother’s expectation. Hoping against hope that at least his cock would stay hard, he mentally prepared himself for disappointment as he began hiking his hips and slowly powering long deep strokes as she requested. Judith sighed, then moaned. The eight-inch coupling slid deliciously through her sleeve, snugged tight against her womb and then receded by small half-steps as her gripping Kegels lovingly impeded it.
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